“Very nice. Your butler was kind enough to show me a few rooms.”
His voice expressionless, Kincraig said, “If Barnard was still there, I fancy my son Duncan was in residence.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t see eye to eye. Not surprising. I suppose Duncan noticed the family resemblance?”
“Yes.”
His lordship’s smile was brittle. “You can say a lot with one word, Jack. The boy was offensive, I gather.”
“I’m afraid we had a—er, a small turn-up, sir.”
“Which you won, of course.” Kincraig shook his head and said with a sigh, “Poor lad. Poor lad. It’s not his fault. His mother…” He shrugged and the words trailed off.
Vespa waited through another silence then said, “You will think this vulgar, my lord, but—I have a small inheritance from my mother’s parents. I won’t touch the Vespa funds or properties, but I’ve an old house in Dorsetshire I’m fond of, and I have no need— That is to say— I mean—I am not a pauper.”
“Duncan accused you of being a fortune-hunter, did he? What nonsense. I’ve more than enough for both of you.”
“But I don’t want anything from you, sir. Except, perhaps, your affection and—and acceptance. If your son could be made to see that—”
“I’m afraid he cannot. To an extent I understand his resentment. You see, when my wife died, I was involved in a rather chancy business. I made a new will, under the terms of which, upon my demise everything would go to my legal heir—Duncan. Although you cannot be named a legal heir, I mean to acknowledge you as my son, and make suitable provision for you. No! Please do not argue. It is my wish, and my right. Duncan knows me. He knows what I will do. His nature is such that—Well, I’m afraid he won’t like it!”
No, Duncan Keith wouldn’t like it, thought Vespa. Unless perhaps his man with the crossbow shot straighter next time.
* * *
The morning dawned bright but cold. Vespa rose early, started a fire and carried a bowl of hot water to the tent. Consuela answered his call drowsily but then demanded that he wait, and next instant her tousled head appeared through the tent flap, and her eager eyes were searching his face.
“What did he say? What did he say? I tried to keep awake so that you could tell me, but I was too tired, and you must have talked the night away! Is he willing to acknowledge you?”
He tugged on an errant curl. “He doesn’t seem averse to the notion.”
She squeaked and gave a little leap of excitement, causing the tent to rock ominously. “Oh, how splendid! Nonna will give us her blessing then, I am sure! Now why must you look troubled? Ah! You think his lordship may not approve of me, is that the case? Well, let me tell you, Captain John Wansdyke Vespa, I have done nothing of which I am ashamed, and in fact—”
He laughed and tweaked her little nose. “Get dressed, Signorina Fiero! It should not take you above an hour, do you think?”
“Monstrous man! I shall be cooking breakfast in ten minutes!”
A quarter of an hour to complete a lady’s toilette, he told her, would break all known records. Her indignant vow to make him eat his words followed him as he went down to look at Bruine, his heart light and his hopes high.
He had ascertained that there were no pebbles or stone bruises on the mare’s hoof and was preparing to feed the horses when Manderville joined him, looking flushed and sleepy and speaking in the stuffy voice that accompanies a cold. Scooping oats into a nosebag he said, “Well? Well? Are you the acknowledged son and heir?”
Vespa grinned at him happily. “I am. One of ’em, at all events. Do you know, Paige, the dear old fellow really seems pleased to welcome me to the family.”
Manderville slapped him on the back and said he couldn’t be more pleased. “This means your path to the altar is clear, at last. Have you persuaded Lord Kincraig to turn for home now?”
“He says he cannot: that he’s to meet a fellow who really may have a scrap of this fabulous Khusraw carpet. It’s nonsense, of course, but I must tread carefully. Still, I hope to persuade him to change his mind.”
While the men shaved, Pierre was assigned the task of being their lookout in case any strangers approached, and Consuela prepared a breakfast of coffee, rolls and omelettes. She was timid with Lord Kincraig until he bowed and kissed her hand with stately gallantry, and told her his ‘son’ had explained matters. “I gather it is thanks to you that Jack found me, my dear,” he said. “I can only hope that my future daughter-in-law will forgive me for my hasty judgment.”
She was overjoyed and, to his great delight, his lordship was hugged and a kiss pressed on his cheek. She was, he told Vespa when the two men were poling up the cart-horses, a darling of a girl, sunny natured and full of spirit. “To see the way you look at each other is heart-warming. I think you have found a love that is not given to many. It reminds me of when your dear Mama and I—” He broke off, then finished quickly, “Don’t let it slip away, Jack. Guard her well.”
“I mean to, sir. And in that connection, I want her back in England as fast as may be.”
“Excellent! She can say what she likes about being protected by her Italian ancestry, but she is at high risk here. You must leave at once.”
“Very good. Do you think it safe for us to all travel together? Or shall you lead the way while we follow?”
Lord Kincraig chuckled. “Blandly said. But as I told you last night—”
Vespa raised a delaying hand. “Your pardon—father.” The word came unbidden to his tongue, and for a minute he was too moved to continue. Then he asked shyly, “Do I—presume too much, sir?”
Kincraig also was overcome, and stretched out an unsteady hand which Vespa took and held strongly. “If you knew,” said his lordship. “Of course, you cannot know, but— Consider your little signorina and how deeply you love her.”
“More than my life, sir.”
“That is how I felt about your mother. To discover that she bore me such a fine son … There are no words, my dear boy! I shall be proud to have you name me so!”
Such a display of emotion was an embarrassment to both British hearts, wherefore they avoided each other’s eyes and became very much occupied with straps and buckles and harness. As soon as he could master his voice, Vespa said, “Thank you. But—you must know that Consuela refuses to go home unless I do. And I have no intention of leaving until you come also.”
Kincraig turned and looked at him squarely. “So soon, you challenge me,” he said with a faint wistful smile.
“I have been pursued, shot at and beaten, since I commenced to search for you,” said Vespa, meeting his gaze steadily. “It’s very obvious that several groups think you have found your jewelled carpet and mean to have it. With all due respect, my lord, I have had the deuce of a time finding you, and I will be damned if I will now run the risk of losing you!”
Kincraig gave a shout of laughter. “I see how it will be. So long as I behave myself I will be ‘father,’ but if we don’t see eye to eye, I am doomed to exist as ‘my lord’!”
Vespa reddened. “No, really, sir! My apologies if I spoke harshly. I’ve no thought to challenge your authority, but—”
“But you demand that I do as you wish.”
“Not demand—never that! Only—I do beg of you to reconsider. No carpet ever woven is worth your life—or worth risking Consuela’s life. How you’ve managed to wander about Europe like this in time of war is beyond me, but no man’s luck holds forever. It’s long past time that you were safe home in Suffolk—or Scotland.”
Kincraig looked worried. “The girl presents a problem, no doubt of that,” he muttered. And you’re quite right. I shall go home. Just as soon as I’ve met my friend. No—don’t argue with me, Jack. I have no alternative, you see. He waits a scant three leagues away. I gave my word to meet him, and I’ve never broken my word yet.”
Vespa’s jaw tightened. “Then you leave me no choice but to accompany you, sir.”
“
Nonsense! Your first thought must be for your lady. Take her home, lad. Take her home.”
And so it went, the young staff officer using every wile and stratagem at his command, the nobleman smiling and genial and immovable, until Manderville came to join them with Pierre leaping along behind him. “Is this a private quarrel?” he enquired with a grin.
“May I have my sweet?” cried Pierre.
“One only,” said Kincraig. “You know where they are.” Pierre jumped onto the tail of the waggon and clambered over the rugs to a crate at the far end.
“It isn’t a quarrel at all, Paige,” said Vespa sharply. “I’ve merely been trying to persuade his lordship to come back to England with us.”
“Jolly good,” said Manderville. “The only sensible thing to do. And I think we shouldn’t delay. Those are thunderheads unless I mistake ’em.”
One glance at the threatening skies and Kincraig scurried for the tent saying in that odd, shrill voice so different from his usual manner, “I must strike camp! If we get much rain it will be difficult … very difficult!”
Vespa looked after him uneasily.
Manderville said, “I wonder you convinced him, he seems so determined to go his own way.”
“I didn’t convince him. Dammitall, he’s stubborn as any mule!”
“You resemble him in more than looks, I see,” said Manderville with a grin.
“I’m glad you find it so blasted amusing. You won’t object to taking Consuela home.”
Manderville’s response was pithy and profane.
Vespa said intensely, “Paige, you must! I daren’t leave him—not with that unholy crew at his heels!”
“It appears to me they’re at your heels. And he has gone on very well by himself these many years, from what I can gather. Come now, own he’s dished you. You’ve done what you could, and he’ll have none of it. You cannot compel him to your way of thinking, and if he’s given his word of honour—”
“To do—what? Meet some cloth-head who fancies he’s found a piece of that confounded ancient rug? It’s not possible, you know that as well as I!”
“Lord Kincraig don’t appear to know it.”
Vespa muttered, “Small wonder they call him crazy. I’ve a damned good mind to take him home by force, if only to protect the dear man.”
“You’d catch cold at that, I think.” With rare austerity Manderville said, “I for one would have no part in such a scheme, I promise you.”
“Confound you,” exclaimed Vespa, turning on him angrily. “Then why did you come if you meant to refuse your help when most I need you? If Toby were here, I’ll warrant he’d—” He broke off and ran a hand through his hair. “No—forgive me. I don’t mean that. You’ve been very good, Paige. It’s just that—I’m at my wits’ end. I must get Consuela safe home, and I cannot abandon my—my father to his probable death! Please! If you will just—”
“Do what?” interposed Consuela, who had come up unnoticed. “Bundle me off again? Paige won’t try it, for he knows very well I’d get away and follow you.”
“Not if I tied you up and threw you in the coach.”
Her blue eyes widened. “Jack! You wouldn’t!”
“To protect you from yourself? Oh, my dearest girl, be sure I would!”
“Then it would be a coach you’d have to drive,” said Manderville.
Lord Kincraig screamed, “Why do you all stand there? Can you not see there is going to be a storm? Tend to your horses, quickly!”
The clouds were heavier and ominously dark. Even as they all looked up great cold drops began to patter down. His lordship was carrying crates and blankets to the waggon, Vespa ran to help him and Manderville hurried to harness his own borrowed pair.
Jumping up and down, Pierre shouted, “What about Bruine?”
Vespa was reminded that the little mare must be reshod. He called, “Hold up, sir. I’ll get Manderville on his way, then ride with you till I can find a smithy.”
Lord Kincraig nodded and proceeded to strike the tent. The rain threatened to become a deluge. Consuela pulled up her hood and retreated to the carriage with Pierre. As soon as de Coligny’s animals were harnessed and poled up, Vespa went to Bruine who was grazing farther down the slope. He started to saddle her, hearing in his mind Kincraig’s words, ‘A scant three leagues away…’ Three leagues; nine or ten more miles of enemy territory for Consuela to risk, and they were not a great distance from the war zone. No, it would not do! She and Pierre must be returned to the chateau immediately. He frowned, thinking that if Manderville refused to help, he’d resort to his army rank and order the thimble-wit to take her back. He himself would accompany Kincraig on what appeared to be this last lap, and that was all. His lordship had promised to go home after he met up with his friend, and by heaven, but he’d see that promise was kept, even if he had to resort to dragging the old gentleman back to England by force!
Deep in thought he finished saddling Bruine, and led her up to the camp. It was deserted. Both waggon and carriage were gone. Knowing he would not ride the mare, they’d slithered off and left him to manage as best he could! It was Consuela’s doing, of course. The little minx knew he would follow Lord Kincraig and she had no doubt persuaded Manderville to drive out before he could insist that she and Pierre be sent back to the chateau. That blasted weak-kneed Paige! The silly block should have known better, but he was like putty in her hands!
It was as well his beloved was not within earshot as Captain John Wansdyke Vespa voiced his reaction to such dastardly conniving in furious and unrestrained barracks-room language.
He had trudged less than a mile through the now-driving rain when he came upon a commotion. A goose girl hurrying to shelter with her flock had incurred the wrath of a farmer whose load of apples had shifted when he swerved his waggon to avoid the geese. The farmer was bellowing, further frightening the geese; the dray horses were stamping about agitatedly; the girl was in tears as she ran about trying to gather her flock together; and apples were strewn across the muddy road. Vespa stopped to help pick up the apples, and managed in the process to calm the distraught girl and placate the farmer by buying a bag of his fruit. The girl left him with a tearful smile and a blessing, and the grateful farmer directed him to a forge located in a lane “just a scant distance to the south—two hundred meters at most.”
For once the directions proved reliable, Bruine was soon being shod by a gregarious blacksmith who had no objection to a foreign accent and in no time Vespa was able to ride out in pursuit of the dastardly conspirators. He came up with them a quarter of an hour later. The carriage was pulled off to the side of the road and barely discernible through the grey curtain of the rain. Manderville had climbed down from the box and was blowing his nose and peering despondently at the right rear wheel.
As Vespa rode up, he said unrepentantly, “Well, it’s past time you arrived!”
“No thanks to you, my good and loyal friend! You succumbed to the signorina’s blandishments again, didn’t you!”
Manderville gave him a resentful look. “You try and gainsay her! I wish—I wish…” he sneezed, groaned and finished, “I wish you joy of it!”
He looked quite haggard and was getting thoroughly soaked. Vespa thought ‘I’ll have him down with the pneumonia if I’m not careful!’ He said in a kinder tone, “What’s the difficulty now?”
“A damn great blade from a broken pair of scissors or something of the sort has stuck itself in the wheel. I’m afraid it’ll split if I don’t get it out, so—”
Consuela called from the open window, “Jack! I am so sorry, but we have lost his lordship again!”
He stared at her then asked Manderville, “Lost him? How the deuce could you lose him in bright daylight?”
“It ain’t all that bright. He drove around a bend in the road and when we came up, there was no sign of him. He’s slippery as any eel, and could have hidden himself in any of a dozen spinneys we passed.”
“Stay here,” said Vespa tersely.
“I doubt you’ll be noticed in this deluge. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
Manderville grunted, and from behind his handkerchief enquired, “What does that mean? A sennight from Wednesday?”
Ignoring him, Vespa reined Bruine around. Consuela watched him penitently from the open window. “I know you are cross, dear Jack. Have you decided to abandon me?”
“Yes,” he said, fighting the urge to kiss her rosy but drooping lips.
She giggled and clapped her hands. “Your eyes give you away! I am very naughty, but you still love me. Where are you going?”
He had remembered that when he’d left the forge he’d noticed some deep ruts in the lane. Lord Kincraig’s waggon left just such marks. He said, “I passed a lane where his lordship might have turned off. Keep out of sight, and do please try to be good.”
“For a change?” she prompted mischievously.
He nodded. “For a change.”
“Be careful,” she called after him.
He rode fast but not so fast as to draw attention to himself. Traffic was lighter in the rain but he scanned each coach and rider going south, alert for a fine black horse, or two dapple greys, or Duncan Keith’s unlovely trio. The wheel tracks were still visible when he reached the lane and he turned Bruine down it. Paige had been right about his lordship hiding; there was a spinney ahead and the tracks led right in amongst the trees. It was rough going for Bruine; for the big cart-horses to haul the heavy waggon over such muddy and rock-strewn terrain must be downright murderous. Why on earth his lordship would come this way was—
Vespa’s irritation was banished abruptly. The waggon was just ahead, balanced on the two left wheels and tilting crazily against a tree. His first dismayed glance told him that Kincraig had been driving along a narrow track when the weight had caused the ground to give way under one wheel: probably a rabbit warren or some such thing. The horses did not appear to be harmed and were standing patiently, but there was no sign of Kincraig. Vespa rode up quickly, calling his father’s name. He thought he heard a faint response from under the waggon and he threw himself from the saddle to peer underneath. His lordship lay sprawled a few feet from the tilting side. Vespa raced around the horses, his eyes flashing to the tree that was the only thing keeping the waggon from toppling. It was a young birch and it was leaning perilously. At any instant it might snap under the weight, or be uprooted, and Kincraig would be crushed. He fell to one knee beside the inert figure. “Sir—I must get you out of here! Are you hurt?”
The Riddle of the Lost Lover Page 24