Amanda Quick - Mischief.txt

by Mischief (lit)

  to avenge yourself against me."

  Hugo's hand clenched around his walking stick. He stared out

  the window." I have no intention of hurting Lady Patricia."

  I am, of course, pleased to learn that." Matthias flexed his

  fingers absently." Because if anything were to happen to my sister,

  I would be obliged to take action. I am responsible for her."

  Hugo turned his head swiftly to stare at Matthias." Are you

  warning me to stay away from Lady Patricia?"

  No. I confess that I had intended to do just that, but Lady

  Colchester advised against it. I am, however, warning you not to

  use my sister in any scheme of vengeance that you may have

  concocted. If you feel that you must blame me for your father's

  suicide, then come after me directly. Deal with me man to man. Do

  not hide behind a lady's skirts."

  Hugo flushed." I am not hiding behind Patricia's skirts."

  Matthias smiled fleetingly." Then there is nothing more for us to

  discuss. I shall inform my wife that we had this pleasant little chat

  and perhaps she will give me some peace."

  Do not tell me that you did this just to please your lady wife.

  That does not sound at all like you, Colchester."

  What would you know about me?" Matthias asked softly.

  I know what my mother told me after my father died. I know

  of the rumors surrounding your association with Rutledge. I know

  that you were accounted wild and reckless. That you shot a man

  named Exelby several years ago. Some say you killed Vanneck in

  cold blood only this morning. I know a great deal about you, sir."

  So does my wife," Matthias mused." She has heard all the tales

  that you have heard. But she married me regardless. What do you

  think prompted her to do that?"

  Hugo looked taken aback." How would I know?" He cleared his

  throat." Lady Colchester is said to be an Original."

  She is that. Definitely one of a kind. And I suppose there's no

  accounting for taste." Matthias pulled himself out of his brief

  reverie." She told me that you and I have something in common."

  What could we possibly share?" Hugo demanded scornfully.

  Fathers who chose not to take responsibility for their sons."

  Hugo stared at him. That is outrageous. The most outrageous

  thing that I have ever heard."

  An hour ago I told my wife that she was talking nonsense. But

  now that I've pondered the matter further, I do believe she has a

  point."

  What point?"

  Does it occur to you, Bagshaw, that your father and mine both

  left their sons to pick up the pieces of the messes that they them

  selves had created?"

  My father did not create a mess," Hugo retorted passionately.

  You ruined him at cards."

  As I told Imogen, this was a complete waste of time." Matthias

  glanced out the window and recognized the neighborhood. The

  hackney coachman had followed instructions.

  So it was," Hugo said sullenly.

  Matthias rapped on the roof of the carriage to signal the

  coachman to halt." I believe I shall walk from here. I need some

  fresh air."

  Hugo glanced out the window, confused." This is not your

  address."

  I am aware of that."

  The hackney rumbled to a halt. Matthias opened the door and

  got out. Then he turned to look back at Hugo." Remember what I

  said, Bagshaw. Pursue your vengeance if you feel you must. But do

  not use my sister as a shield. You are not your father. Something

  tells me that you are made of sterner stuff than he was. You can

  face your problems as a man."

  Damn you, Colchester," Hugo whispered.

  You might start by making a few inquiries of your father's old

  solicitor. He can tell you what really happened to the family

  finances." Matthias started to close the carriage door.

  Colchester, wait."

  Matthias paused." What is it?"

  You forgot to warn me that I must not pay my addresses to

  your sister."

  Did I?"

  Hugo scowled." Well?"

  Well, what? I have other matters to attend to this evening,

  Bagshaw. You must excuse me."

  Are you telling me that I will be welcome in your house?"

  Matthias smiled slightly." Why don't you pay a visit and find out

  for yourself?" He slammed the door and walked off down the

  street without a backward glance.

  He was in a quiet, respectable area of Town. The dark expanse

  of a long, narrow park loomed between two rows of modest town

  houses. A few of the residences were dark, but windows were still

  lit in the majority. The rumors had been correct on one point,

  Matthias thought. Vanneck's fortunes had definitely plummeted.

  Until a few months ago Vanneck had lived in a much larger house

  in a wealthier neighborhood.

  The notion of paying a late night visit to Vanneck's residence

  had occurred to him that afternoon as he reflected again on the

  events of the morning. Matthias had said nothing to Imogen of his

  plans because he suspected that she would have insisted on

  accompanying him.

  He came to a halt and studied the twin rows of town houses.

  The one in which Vanneck had lived was darkened.

  Matthias stood on the street for a long time, reflecting on the

  various possibilities that presented themselves. Eventually he

  walked around the corner and found the shadowed alley that

  would lead him to the back of Vanneck's town house.

  There was sufficient moonlight to allow Matthias to find his

  way to the gate that opened onto the small garden. The hinges

  squeaked in the darkness.

  He closed the gate as gently as possible and went through the

  garden to the kitchen door. Fortunately, he was able to see very

  well at night. The ability had come in handy over the years.

  He was surprised to discover that the kitchen door was open.

  The departing servants had evidently forgotten to lock up

  securely before they left for their own homes.

  Matthias stepped into the kitchen and paused to allow his eyes

  to adjust to the deeper shadows. Then he removed the candle he

  had brought with him from the pocket of his greatcoat. He lit it.

  Shielding the weak flame with one hand, he started down the

  long hall that divided the first floor of the house. He was not

  certain what he was looking for, but he intended to start his search

  in Vanneck's study. It was the most logical place to begin.

  He found the cluttered chamber on the left side of the hall.

  Vanneck's desk was littered with a jumble of papers. Matthias

  glanced at the inkstand and saw that the lid was open on the small

  bottle of ink. A quill pen lay nearby. It was as if Vanneck had been

  interrupted in the midst of writing a letter or a note.

  Matthias set down the candle and picked up the first sheet of

  foolscap. He paused when he noticed several small, dark stains on

  one of the papers. He held the paper closer to the light. Not ink

  spots. It was possible that the dried droplets had been caused by

  spilled tea or claret, but Matthias did not think that was the case.

&n
bsp; He was almost certain that the stains were dried blood.

  Glancing down, he saw a much larger, more ominous-looking

  patch on the carpet near the toe of his boot.

  Something stirred the hair on the nape of his neck just as he

  bent down to take a closer look at the dark stain. He did not need

  the almost inaudible scrape of a shoe on the carpet to warn him

  that he was not alone in the study.

  He flung himself to the side just as something very large and

  very heavy slammed downward toward his head. There was a

  splintering crash as a heavy candlestick struck the edge of the

  desk.

  Matthias twisted and came up out of the crouch just as his

  attacker raised the candlestick for another blow.

  Chapter 15

  Matthias avoided the second swing of the candlestick by no more

  than scant inches. He did not allow his assailant time for a third

  attempt. He slipped to the side, using one of the movements he had

  learned from an ancient treatise on Zamarian fighting methods.

  Before his opponent could alter course, Matthias kicked out

  with his booted foot. The blow slammed his attacker back onto the

  top of the desk. Quill, papers, and inkstand cascaded off the far

  side.

  The attacker grunted heavily and scrambled to get off the desk.

  He was hampered by his cloak and a thick woolen scarf wrapped

  around the lower half of his face. His hair was covered by a cap

  that was jammed securely onto his head.

  A rustle of sound in the hallway alerted Matthias just as he was

  about to launch himself across the desk. There was not one, but

  two people in the house with him. The face of the second figure

  was lost in the shadows of a cloak hood and scarf.

  Even as Matthias watched, the newcomer raised one arm.

  Candlelight glinted on the barrel of a small pistol in a heavily

  gloved hand. Matthias seized the candlestick that had nearly

  broken his skull and hurled it toward the figure in the doorway.

  The pistol exploded just as the heavy candlestick struck the

  second attacker in the chest. Matthias heard the ball thud into the

  oak paneling behind him and knew he now had some time. It

  would take a few minutes for the second assailant to reload the

  tiny one-shot pistol.

  Matthias leaped over the top of the desk and came down on top

  of the first man, who was struggling to get to his feet.

  The impact sent both men down onto the carpet. They rolled

  violently into a chair and then back toward the desk. Matthias

  avoided a bunched fist and raised his own hand for a blow. At the

  last instant he sensed the approach of the second villain.

  Resorting again to one of the Zamarian techniques he had

  practiced for years, he twisted to the side and uncoiled to his feet.

  Cold fire lanced through his arm.

  He ignored the pain and lashed out with one booted foot in a

  swift, brutal arc that caught the first man just as he rose from the

  floor. The man reeled back against the desk.

  Matthias readied himself for the next onslaught, but to his

  surprise, both of his assailants turned and rushed from the study.

  Their shoes echoed on the tiles in the hall as they dashed toward

  the rear of the house.

  Prepared and braced for another attack, Matthias was momen

  tarily disconcerted by his opponents" flight.

  He raced out of the study into the hall, but he knew he was too

  late. He heard the kitchen door slam shut behind his quarry.

  Hell's teeth."

  He put out a hand and flattened it against the wall to steady

  himself while he drew several deep breaths. He was feeling oddly

  dazed.

  Matthias frowned. What the devil was the matter with him? he

  wondered. The battle had not lasted more than a few minutes, and

  he considered himself to be in excellent physical condition.

  It occurred to him that the fire in his left arm was no longer an

  icy flame. It was now a hellish blaze. He glanced down and saw that

  the sleeve of his coat had been slashed open. There was enough

  light from the single candle that still burned in the study to see the

  color of his own blood as it saturated the expensive fabric.

  His opponents had been well armed. One had carried a pistol.

  The other had wielded a knife. Whatever it was that they had

  sought in Vanneck's house had been very important to them.

  Matthias wondered if they had found it.

  He ripped off his neck cloth, tied it quickly around his bleeding

  arm, and then turned back to examine Vanneck's study. He made

  himself think the way he had trained himself to think when he had

  searched the ghostly ruins of ancient Zamar.

  An hour later Matthias reposed on the dolphin sofa in the comfort

  of his own library and listened as Imogen flew down the stairs. He

  grinned in spite of the discomfort he was experiencing as Ufton

  finished stitching up the knife wound.

  Injured?" Imogen's voice penetrated the closed door of the

  library with no difficulty. Matthias would not have been astonished to learn that passersby outside in the street heard her." What

  the bloody hell do you mean, he is injured? Where is he? How

  badly is he hurt? Has Ufton sent for a doctor?"

  Imogen's rapid string of questions was punctuated by the staccato beat of her footsteps on the stairs." Ufton is tending him?

  Ufton? Ufton? Ufton is a butler, for heaven's sake, not a doctor."

  Madam is concerned," Ufton noted as he carefully secured the

  white bandage around Matthias's arm.

  Apparently." Matthias closed his eyes and leaned his head back

  against the sofa. He smiled to himself." Odd, having a wife around

  the house."

  No offence, my lord, but Lady Colchester is a trifle more odd

  than most wives."

  Yes, I suspect she is," Matthias said.

  He listened contentedly as Imogen continued to hurl orders

  and demand more information.

  See to it that his bed is turned down at once," she said to some

  one." You, Charles, yes, you. Prepare a litter of some sort that we

  can use to carry his lordship upstairs."

  Matthias stirred and reluctantly opened his eyes." I suppose one

  of us had better stop her before she converts the entire house into

  a hospital."

  Ufton blanched." Pray, do not look at me when you suggest that

  someone should attempt to halt Lady Colchester's chosen course

  of action, sir."

  I have never before known you to lack nerve and fortitude,

  Ufton."

  I have never before been obliged to deal with a lady of

  madam's peculiar temperament."

  That makes two of us."

  Outside in the hall, Imogen's voice rose." That is blood on the

  tile, is it not? Colchester's blood. Dear God. Bring bandages.

  Water. And a needle and thread. Hurry, for God's sake."

  Brace yourself, Ufton." Matthias glanced toward the door." She

  is almost upon us."

  Ufton sighed as he tended to the bandage.

  The library door slammed open and Imogen, garbed in a chintz

  wrapper and a frilly little white cap, rushed into the room. Her

  wide, alarmed eyes went
instantly to the sofa. Matthias tried to

  look both heroic and tragic.

  Matthias, what on earth has happened?" She skidded to a halt

  near the sofa. Her eyes flew to the white bandage around his left

  arm and then to the torn, bloodstained shirt that lay wadded up on

  a tray. Matthias could have sworn that she paled.

  It's all right, Imogen," he said." Calm yourself, my dear."

  Dear heaven, this is all my fault. I should never have sent you

  off alone in a hackney carriage tonight. The streets are so dangerous. If only you had come home with the rest of us. Whatever was

  I thinking of when I told you to talk to Mister Bagshaw?"

  Matthias raised his hand, palm out." You must not blame

  yourself for this, my dear. As you can see, I am not at death's

  door. Ufton has had some experience with this sort of thing. He

  is far more competent than the average London doctor, I assure

  you."

  Imogen glared suspiciously at Ufton." What sort of experience?"

  Ufton looked down his austere nose." I accompanied his lord

  ship on his travels abroad in search of ancient Zamar. Accidents

  and adventures of all varieties were rather commonplace. I

  became quite adept at attending to wounds, broken bones and the

  like, suffered by our companions both on board ship and during

  the excavations."

  Oh." Imogen looked briefly nonplussed. Then she nodded,

  seemingly satisfied." Well, if you are certain that you know what

  you are about, Ufton, I suppose we can rely upon you."

  Yes, we can," Matthias assured her." Ufton has always had a

  flair for medical matters. During our travels he picked up all sorts

  of interesting techniques and recipes for medicines."

  What sort of techniques and recipes?" Imogen asked.

  Ufton cleared his throat." As an example, I poured brandy into

  his lordship's wound before I closed it. Many sailors and military

  men believe that strong spirits ward off infection."

  How very interesting." Imogen gave a dainty sniff." I collect that

  you also poured some of the brandy down his lordship's throat.

  Was that part of the treatment?"

  Absolutely critical," Matthias murmured.

  Ufton coughed discreetly." I also held the needle in the heart of

  a flame before setting my stitches. It is a technique favored in the

  East."

  I have heard of it." Imogen crouched to study the white

  bandage on Matthias's arm." The bleeding appears to have

  stopped."

  The cut was not terribly deep," Ufton said. His voice softened