The Duke's Messenger

by Vanessa Gray

  In no time. Nell had penned a note to him and entrusted it to Grigg, a footman she had brought with her to alleviate the strain on her aunt’s household by her own requirements.

  “You must deliver this, Grigg, directly to my brother at Oakcliff. It is of the utmost urgency, and if he is not to be found then I don’t know quite how I shall go on.”

  She would have sent word to Oakcliff before, when it was desperately to be desired that Tom receive Rowland’s offer for her. But it would take two days at the very least for Tom to reach London from the Cotswolds and Rowland had departed the next day. Urgency had ebbed, therefore, only to return with Mr. Haveney’s parcel.

  Grigg, brought up in the Aspinall household, adored Nell. He straightened his shoulders, clearly ready to brave polar regions if that were required of him, or even, if Miss Nell wished, track down Lady Hester Stanhope, last heard from three months before at an outlandish place called Mesh-mushy.

  In truth, the footman did not return when Nell expected him. But she had every confidence, if not in the footman, then in Tom’s own curiosity about Mr. Haveney’s request. Once he learned that exciting news waited for him, he would travel to London without even penning up his cattle.

  Chapter Seven

  While Nell waited the return of her footman, she raised her plans on the foundation stone of Tom’s arrival. She must be ready, for if Tom were to take this mysterious small parcel across Europe, she must make it inevitable for him to include her and Aunt Phrynie as part of the expedition.

  Mr. Haveney’s presentation of his need for Tom indicated that the parcel must be carried without fanfare to Vienna. Surely, Nell reasoned, if camouflage were desired, what better than a simple family group traveling for their own pleasure?

  If a traveling family party were required, Nell would see that one was provided. Lady Sanford proved less recalcitrant than Nell had expected, and in the end she was surprisingly easy to persuade. Clearly, she too felt the lure of lights and music emanating from far beyond the horizon, and as she said privately to her maid Mullins, “Even Tom is better than nothing.”

  Even though Nell heard nothing from the messenger sent after her brother, she had wrought such a change in her aunt that on the morning of their proposed departure Phrynie was out of bed even before her first cup of tea, harrying Mullins over her attire.

  “What makes you think I shall wear that puce traveling suit? You know what traveling does to my complexion, and puce is the last thing I should wish to wear. Take it away at once, and lay out the Persian-green one. I declare, Nell,” she added, turning abruptly to her niece when she entered, “I don’t know why we are doing all this. I told you we would not travel to Vienna.”

  “That was before you knew that Tom was going with us,” said Nell serenely, even though she had had no word either from Tom or from the office of the mysterious Duke of Whern. She had written to Mr. Haveney to inform him that Tom was returning posthaste to London and would be prepared to receive the parcel and deliver it to Castlereagh. “Now, Aunt, we must be ready to leave the moment Tom gets here.”

  “Which will be hours late, if I know anything about him.” Something in Nell’s attitude aroused suspicion in Lady Sanford’s breast. “Nell, are you conniving?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Aunt.”

  “You know very well. To be quite plain, are you planning some nefarious scheme? Where is Tom? And what makes you certain he will allow us to accompany him to Vienna? I have not so far seen any sign of his amiability in ordinary matters, let alone an affair of such moment as a veritable expedition.” She eyed Nell with misgivings. “I have the strongest feeling,” she declared, “that he will simply tell us we are to stay at home and be gone before we have an opportunity to convince him to take us.”

  Phrynie touched an echoing chord in Nell. However, Nell had taken certain precautions of her own. “The carriage is ordered for an hour from now,” she informed Phrynie, “and Stuston is prepared to drive us all the way. Samuel is coming with us and another footman and a groom as well. And Mullins, who will make you comfortable, you know. Should you think these were sufficient servants? I am sure that Tom will have a man or two with him. So you see we shall be well equipped.”

  “I confess I have grave misgivings, Nell. I cannot think why, for all seems convenable. I wonder whether there is any merit in premonitions?”

  “Nonsense, Aunt. I am persuaded we will go on excessively well. Whitcomb has sent ahead to take rooms for us this night at the Ship Inn and has arranged our passage across the Channel. Don’t worry, dear Aunt. All is in train.”

  All except Tom, she told herself. But she could do nothing about her brother now, and she must turn her thoughts to the messenger who would bring the parcel. She recalled her exact words to Mr. Haveney — her brother would arrive during the night just past and would be on hand to receive the mysterious parcel at the earliest convenient hour this morning. She had not precisely told an untruth, for she was not informed that he would not come.

  It was already past the earliest hour convenient to Nell. She could only conclude that Where’s office kept late hours.

  But, a half hour later, when Nell was ready to climb the maroon velvet draperies and scream in an attempt to relieve her taut nerves, the messenger from Mr. Haveney arrived.

  She had dreaded the likelihood that Mr. Haveney himself would come. It was in the highest degree probable that he would make difficulties over the preparations, which could not be concealed. The traveling chariot before the door, vast amounts of luggage strapped on the back and even encumbering the roof, Lady Sanford’s coachman ready to swing up to his seat — it must be obvious to the dullest intellect that Lady Sanford was taking to the road.

  If Mr. Haveney demanded the actual presence of Tom Aspinall, Nell was undone.

  Just as she began to sink below the surface of depression, Grigg reappeared, grubby and breathless, having ridden far into the night before and taken to the road again before dawn. Like a faithful retriever, he handed Nell an equally soiled and ill-written note. Tom’s formal education had slid off the surface of his brain like water over a smooth rock. With some difficulty, she made out the sense of his missive.

  Sorry, Nell, be a little late. Tell Whern I’ll get there as soon as I can walk. Fell off a sorry hack that Charlie Puckett sold me, nothing wrong, just a bruised knee. lsnt he a grate fellow. Whern, 1 mean. Not Charlie.

  Nell’s spirits, not at their most vigorous just now, were dashed completely. She had not fully realized how much her scheme depended upon Tom’s immediate presence. She was prepared to anticipate his arrival, even to the point of falsely informing Mr. Haveney that Tom was still abed upstairs. But now that she had word from her brother that he was not now even on the road to London, her heart failed her.

  If Tom could not come in the next hour, then her entire project was in vain. Her aunt would never again trust her, nor would she consent to postponing their departure for several days. Besides, Nell, always honest at least with herself, recognized that if urgency were required, Tom could much more easily travel swiftly without the cumbersome addition of his family.

  In addition, Nell saw clearly that if Tom came to London to do Whern’s bidding, then he was perfectly capable of going directly to whew, obtaining the parcel, and, realizing that time was of the essence, sending word to his sister from Paris that he was on his way. Alone.

  Already three days had been lost waiting for him, and who knew how many more would elapse before his knee would serve him?

  For want of a nail, she remembered, the battle was lost.

  Not Nell Aspinall’s battle.

  “What did Tom’s note say?” demanded her aunt.

  “He’ll be along soon,” said Nell, distorting the message slightly, but scrupulously adding, “his hand is all but illegible.” Then, rejecting half measures, she continued, “He says we should take the parcel and begin the journey. He will overtake us at the Ship Inn.”

  “But,” object
ed Phrynie, “where is the parcel? I wish to meet this Mr. Haveney. Do you think that the duke himself will come? I have the liveliest curiosity about him. I wonder, do you know, whether he might not be a better catch even than young Foxhall. The old duke was a veritable nabob, and clench-fisted at that. I never met him but once.” She sighed. “Too late, of course.”

  Nell said, primly, “We are not apt to meet the present duke either. At least, he sent Mr. Haveney in the first instance. But don’t trouble yourself over Whern, Aunt. I am perfectly satisfied with Rowland. I love him, you remember.”

  Drily, Lady Sanford commented, “What does that signify?”

  Whern’s messenger arrived within the hour. To Nell’s great relief, it was not Mr. Haveney. The note handed to her on his behalf was brief.

  Urgent business came up. The bearer of this parcel is instructed to place it only in the hands of Thomas Aspinall. Aspinall. in his turn is to deliver the parcel directly into the hands of Lord Castlereagh. Any violation of these instructions will be gravely dealt with.

  Nell bit her lip. “ Gravely dealt with.” It was almost, she thought, as though Mr. Haveney had read her mind and found it necessary to warn her against carrying out her devious plot.

  Impossible that Haveney knew what she was planning!

  Even though her scheme rested firmly upon Tom’s presence, she was not averse to improvisation. Besides, she had gone too far to be intimidated — at least at present — by the probable nature of the threatened “ grave consequences.”

  She smiled dazzlingly at the messenger, a red-haired boy of no more than fifteen, and without great effort was soon possessed of the parcel.

  In short order the Sanford chariot rolled away out of Grosvenor Square to South Audley Street, heading toward Great George Street, the nearest way to Westminster Bridge. It was barely out of sight before the messenger realized that he had allowed the parcel to leave his hands even though the designated receiver was nowhere in sight.

  He had failed in his mission. His mind whirled with visions of the unpleasantness that would be his lot, he believed, when his lapse became known. It did not occur to him to call upon his masters to retrieve the parcel from illegal hands.

  He walked aimlessly toward the river. He had no intention of ending it all, but he could not bring himself to face Mr. Haveney, to say nothing of the duke. Instead, he thought only of delaying his punishment as long as was possible.

  The luckless messenger was sunk in despair, rising in intervals to contemplate the lovely lady who had led him — or rather his parcel — astray. At odd moments he was visited by the recollection of Mr. Haveney’s definite instructions, along with a veiled suggestion of punishment to follow deviations from duty.

  But then he remembered the very ordinary look of the parcel. Big enough so that he must hold it in his hand as he traveled from Duke Street to Lady Sanford’s, it was wrapped in plain paper as though it were merely a bundle of letters. If it had been wrapped in tape and sealed with red wax, it would have been important. By degrees, the boy convinced himself that Mr. Haveney was simply returning personal missives. Why should he be overwrought if his messenger simply told him the truth — that the young lady had taken them with a promise to deliver them to her brother?

  Eventually, he believed that wherever the fault lay, it was not with him. Nevertheless, twilight was blanketing the city before he returned to his employer.

  *

  For want of a nail was a myth. But for want of an early warning, the Sanford carriage was allowed to trundle on toward Dover without hindrance.

  As they left London behind and moved steadily out on the Dover road Nell settled back against the blue velvet squabs with a contented sigh. She had succeeded so far. Her aunt was in the carriage, committed to the journey to Vienna. Nell had no fears now that Tom would go on his own, bypassing his family, to Austria.

  After all, Nell had the famous parcel tucked safely away in her own jewel case!

  Chapter Eight

  When Nell saw Lady Sanford’s blue traveling coach unloaded from the ferry on the far side of the Channel, she began to relax. Even though Mr. Haveney by now had learned the truth from his pliable messenger, there was little that he could do. The storm that threatened as they left the Ship Inn for the ferry had worsened, and theirs was the last vessel to cross for a while.

  There was no way, other than by a private yacht with a foolhardy captain, to set anyone from England down on the French shore.

  The Channel crossing had been very trying. The November seas, driven by near-gale winds from the North Sea, had risen in tumult, tossing the ferry unmercifully. Lady Sanford, never a strong traveler, had taken at once to her bunk, moaning incessantly.

  Since Mullins was, if possible, even more prone to respond disastrously to the motion of the waves than her mistress, it was left to Nell to tend them both, until their heartfelt pleas simply to leave them to die had driven her up to the deck.

  This journey was Nell’s very first crossing, and she was gratified to find that her sea legs — such a vulgar expression! — were strong, and she truly enjoyed the rowdy winds and the tossing waters.

  Lady Sanford found that one night’s rest in the Blue Dolphin, the small but comfortable French inn where they lodged, was not sufficient to restore her to health. No matter how anxious Nell was to place more distance between them and Mr. Haveney, she could not but feel sympathy for the patient in the back bedroom of the inn. When Lady Sanford was ill, so it seemed, she expected the world to stop and commiserate with her.

  The proprietors of the Blue Dolphin found that the new influx of English tourists, after the famine resulting from the Revolution and the belligerent tendencies of the Emperor, brought prosperity beyond their wildest dreams. Certainly the advent of this English milady and her ah si belle niece, accompanied by an equipage and staff of some opulence, was welcome custom, and the landlady had promptly installed the ashen-faced milady in the best bedroom, looking out upon a garden now winter-dead. Tisanes which were guaranteed to restore her from the rigors of the crossing were furnished hourly to her.

  While Mullins had been equally indisposed on the ferry, she felt the pull of duty in addition to a well-developed sense of martyrdom. By the second afternoon on land, she was able to totter downstairs and take a little gruel.

  Nell entered her aunt’s bedroom. “How good it is to see color in your cheeks again, dear Aunt.”

  “I shall never again set foot on a vessel of any kind,” declared Phrynie. “Never.”

  “I shall hope our French improves, then, for we shall of necessity not return home again.”

  Phrynie, quite properly, ignored her niece’s remark. “I should have simply insisted, Nell, on refusing to embark on this — this mad journey.” She lay back on the down pillows and closed her eyes. “I must say that even the word ‘embark’ makes me queasy.”

  Nell silently blessed the mal de mer that afflicted her aunt — heartless, of course, but at least there would be no question now of returning to London!

  Nor would there be for the moment any probing questions on the subject of the nonappearance of Tom Aspinall. Lady Sanford would soon enough notice that Nell’s assurances of Tom’s imminent arrival were not fulfilled. But, thought Nell, buoyed by her success thus far, she would deal with her aunt’s renewed suspicions when required to do so.

  “Now, child,” said Lady Sanford faintly, “go away and let me sleep. I have not the slightest doubt that my looks have faded entirely away, and I shall not wish to see a mirror for days.”

  Nell had no hesitation in leaving her aunt asleep in the care of the fawning but competent landlady while she set out for fresh air and to explore her first French town. She of course had a thorough grounding in French, and had at the outset had little doubt that she could make herself understood. But speaking the language in the schoolroom was a different affair from being fluent in the streets of Calais.

  Nonetheless, the lure of the exotic and unknown drew her, and wit
hout fear but with commendable caution and mindful of the conventions, she took Mullins with her. “Besides, Mullins, you’ve been indoors too long. I cannot understand why you loathe fresh air so much. It is beyond all things health giving. Get your shawl, Mullins.”

  The maid, fearing for her life if she set foot on a French street, made clandestine arrangements with the footman Potter to follow them at a distance.

  “These frogs would soon as not cut a throat,” Mullins informed him, “and my throat suits me the way it is.”

  “Aye,” responded Potter, “and a purty throat it be, too!”

  “Mind yourself,” retorted Mullins loftily, “my throat’s me own, and not for the likes of you to gaze on!”

  Properly, but not seriously, chastised, the footman followed his mistress and the abigail as they set out for the waterfront. The Blue Dolphin was only a short way up a side street, and there was little there to attract a pedestrian.

  The waterfront was a broad street lying parallel to the quay. No trees lined its edge, but because of the recent storm an abundance of fishing vessels tossed at their sheltered anchorages. Innumerable masts moved back and forth in stately fashion. If she watched them long enough, Nell suspected they might exercise a strong hypnotic effect on her.

  Here in the harbor the ferocity of the seas was tamed, even though the lingering swell was sufficient to lift the decks of the smaller vessels at times above the level of her eyes. Imagine going out on such small boats to find fish, of all things! Yet she was intelligent enough to realize that if this were all one could do for a living, it did not behoove one to complain.