To their mutual surprise, the man ignored the coin and continued to stagger after them, waving his hat and calling gaspingly, “My … lady! Wait! Please … wait a bit!”
“Good gracious,” said Naomi, reining to a halt. “He must have a message for me.”
Falcon swung his mount between Naomi and their pursuer, and demanded, “What is your business with this lady?”
The runner, however, was so breathless he could not at once reply, but stood clinging to the railing outside a great house, and wheezing distressfully.
Watching him, Naomi said, “Why, I do believe I know you! Were you not at Promontory Point the other day?”
Falcon looked at her sharply. “He may have been, but what the deuce were you doing there?”
“I will tell you later. Oh, he is exhausted. Follow us to Falcon House, poor soul, and you shall have something to eat and then tell me why you have come.”
“Now see here,” grumbled Falcon. “I’ll not have any of Rossiter’s people hanging about my father’s—”
“I know what it is, dear August,” said Naomi. “Your arm troubles you, that is why you are so out of sorts. I am scarce surprised. You had no business riding today. Truly, you are a most difficult patient. Come along now, do not sit there mumbling or you’ll be taken up for a drunkard!” And with a furtive twinkle, and a flourish of her whip, she was off, Falcon following her perforce, and Mr. Tummet bringing up the rear.
Despite his exasperated protests that he was not tired, and that he would take his breakfast with the ladies, Falcon’s arm was indeed paining him, and he was secretly repenting his earlier decision to accompany Naomi on her morning ride. With a great show of indignation, he eventually obeyed his sister and stamped upstairs. Once inside his bedchamber, he submitted meekly to the strictures of his man, was divested of riding boots and coat, and went grumbling but grateful to rest on his bed. He had dropped off to sleep by the time a tray was brought to him. His valet rested his fingers lightly on the pale forehead, noted the slightly flushed cheeks, and shook his head worriedly.
Mrs. Dudley Falcon was a plump and amiable widow who might have inspired the term “creature comforts,” for she was a creature who had dedicated her life to comfort. No matter what the circumstances, she was always to be found in the coziest corner, in the softest chair, or commanding the prettiest view. She was never disappointed in achieving her aims, for if an occasion carried even a whiff of discomfort, she avoided it. It pleased her erratic brother, Mr. Neville Falcon, to suppose that his sister-in-law made an exemplary chaperone to his beautiful daughter. Actually, Mrs. Dudley, as she was known, paid small heed to the activities of her charge, beaming on her fondly from a comfortable distance while comfortably convinced that the gentle Katrina could never behave improperly. She never arose before noon, and at this early hour she was, as usual, comfortably in bed, a tray across her lap, while she enjoyed the scandalous gossip conveyed in the several letters which lay about the eiderdown.
Downstairs, Katrina and Naomi chattered merrily over breakfast, deciding which of many invitations to accept for tomorrow, and what to wear to the musicale they were to attend on Monday afternoon. These were lengthy discussions and half an hour had passed before Naomi rang the handbell and told the footman he might bring “that poor man” to her if he had finished his breakfast.
“I hope you will not object, dearest,” she added turning to her friend. “He was following us along the street, and looked half starved, so I sent him to the kitchen for a meal.”
“But—who on earth is he?” asked Katrina.
“I believe he is one of Gid—the Rossiters’ servants. He admitted me to Promontory Point when I called there yesterday morning.
“You called there? Again? Good heavens!”
“Well, never look so sanctimonious. I told you that my papa was enraged because I lost his silly chess piece.”
“Yes. But—what has that to do with—”
“Only that he thought Captain Rossiter might have found it. So he asked me to enquire.”
Knitting her brows Katrina said a mystified, “But—surely, your papa should better have sent one of his menservants on such an errand?”
“Perhaps, but”—Naomi shrugged airily—“I was curious to see what my notorious ex-fiancé looked like after all these years, and I thought ’twould be fun to watch him implore my forgiveness for his disgraceful behaviour in Europe. To say nothing,” she added, with a sudden scowl, “of how he tossed me into the carriage, the wretch! And then I could trample him! In the mire!”
“La, Naomi,” exclaimed Katrina, admiringly. “How daring you are. You told me none of this. They have lost the estate, you know.”
Naomi blanched. “Oh, no! That lovely old place? Gideon must be—” She caught herself up. “’Tis passing tragic!”
“Well, so I think, but August says Sir Mark brought it on himself by placing his faith in idiots. And that he has dragged many innocents down with him. Which is truth, I suppose. But pray tell what you said to Captain Rossiter? What did he say? Was he repentant? Did you trample him in the mire?”
Naomi gazed down at the pearl ring she wore, and did not at once reply. Then she said in a low voice, “He bragged to me of his children.… Three! All born out of wedlock, poor little things.”
“My heavens!”
“Yet he dared to name me—guttersnipe!” That recollection brought a blaze into Naomi’s eyes. She said through her teeth, “And dared to imply I had jilted him because his father is disgraced and the fortune lost.”
“Oh, my dear!” Katrina reached across the table to clasp her friend’s hand fondly. “What a narrow escape you have had! The man is beneath contempt!”
For another moment Naomi was very still and silent. Looking up then, she said lightly, “And I am inconsolable, for I was unable to trample him in the mire. We did our quarrelling inside the house, you see, and alas, there was none. At least, not in evidence.”
They were both laughing merrily at this when the footman announced in a most disapproving tone that Mr. Enoch Tummet awaited my lady’s convenience.
“Very well.” Naomi stood. “With your permission, Trina, I will see him in the red parlour.”
“Yes, of course. But you cannot see him alone. I’ll come with you.”
“Now you must not be Gothic, dear. Johnson will wait in the hall, and I am very sure one of Rossiter’s people will not attack me. You know you are anxious about August. Do you run along, and I shall be up directly to change my dress.”
Katrina hesitated, looking dubiously at the shabby individual who waited in the hall behind Johnson. It was very clear that Naomi wished to talk to the man alone, however, and she really was rather worried about her brother, so she nodded and hurried off.
Hat in hand, Mr. Tummet followed Naomi along the hall, his one functioning eye taking in the luxury all about him, and his lips registering a silent “Cor!” as he was shown into the elegant red and gold parlour.
“Remember your manners, my good man,” adjured the footman in a lofty aside.
“I’ll try, me good cove,” said Tummet, dropping him a clumsy and exaggerated curtsy.
Naomi stifled a laugh. The footman gave Tummet a frigid glare, and took up a position outside the door.
“Well now,” said Naomi, seating herself on a gold brocade sofa. “Were you given a satisfactory meal, Mr.—er, Tummet?”
“Thankee, yus milady. Fork and gaiters.” Noting her puzzled look, he grinned broadly. “Pork and taters, to you, ma’am. Most ample to me innards they was, and more’n welcome arter being on the road all night. E. Tummet thanks you kindly fer the ’orspitality.”
Amusement danced into Naomi’s eyes. ‘A proper rascal,’ she thought. ‘But an engaging one.’ She indicated a straight-backed chair. “Pray be seated. You must be tired.”
He sat down gingerly. “Orl right, ma’am, though I ain’t dressed fer it. I’ll get on me way, if you’ll be so very kind as to tell me where ’e is.”
“Me? I am confused. Do you not work for Captain Rossiter?”
“No, melady. I’m a guard. Or was. I was ’ired to guard Promontory Point ’til the Courts make up their minds what to do wiv it.”
“I see.” She was vaguely disappointed. “I had thought you came with a message for me.”
“Well, that’s right, in a manner o’speaking, ma’am. The message is from E. Tummet. And it says, ‘Please to ’elp ’im find Cap’n Rossiter,’ on account of which gent I lost me sovereign nation—er, sittyation, that is, melady. And got one o’ me daylights darkened.”
Mystified, and groping, Naomi said, “Captain Rossiter caused you to lose your situation? And er…?”
Tummet jerked a thumb at his face and explained patiently, “Me daylight, ma’am. Me orb—or ogle.”
“Oh! Your eye! So that’s what ‘a darkened daylight’ means! The captain gave you a black eye!”
“Not ’im, melady. Them other coves what come arter ’im and the lieutenant ’ad sloped orf. Knocked me abaht something awful they done, then searched the premises fer something Cap’n Rossiter ’ad, what ’e shouldn’t oughter.”
Naomi frowned. “I will own Captain Rossiter’s character leaves much to be desired. But—I cannot think him a thief.”
“And ’ow right you are, melady,” said Tummet, beaming at her. “A fine gent, if ever I see one. But them coves, they kept carrying on about ‘the Squire.’ The Squire said as it musta bin Rossiter, they says. And they better find it, or it would go ’ard with ’em. And ’cause I didn’t know what they was a talking of, they went ’ard with me, they did! And then they started searching about, and by the time they was done searching, you’d’a thought fifty-nine bulls ’ad been chasing one o’ they Spanish matty-doors through the ’ouse!”
“Good gracious! Do you say they ransacked Promontory Point?”
He eyed her doubtfully. “As to that, I couldn’t say, ma’am. But they fair tore it to shreds, and I knowed if they still didn’t find what they was looking fer, they’d come arter me agin. So I managed to creep orf and I ’id, ma’am. ’Til they sloped. But not long arterwards, ’oo should come riding in but the gent what ’ired me. Cor! Was ’e in a me-and-you—er, that means—”
“Let me guess,” said Naomi, fascinated by her first exposure to rhyming cant. “Me-and-you … hmm. Stew?”
“That’s it, melady. We’ll ’ave you talking the King’s English yet! But the thing is y’see, my gent blames me fer all the mess. And so I loses me—”
“Sovereign nation—situation,” she interpolated, gaining confidence.
He nodded. “Yus’m.”
“And you feel that since all this took place in Captain Rossiter’s home, because of some mischief he’d been about, he is responsible.”
“Well—I asks you,” said Tummet, giving her a pontifical look. “Put yerself in my shoes. Proper case of nobly siege, I calls it.”
Here, Naomi was out of her depth, and it took a moment for her to translate. “Noblesse oblige! Yes, of course. You are quite justified, and you may tell Captain Rossiter that in my opinion he should hire you himself, to make amends for having placed you in so unenviable a position.” She scanned her disreputable-looking caller, and added with exquisite enjoyment, “As—his valet, perhaps.”
Mr. Tummet gave her a rather startled look, received an encouraging smile, and pursing his lips declared that he “might consider” such a post.
Restraining her mirth with difficulty, she asked, “However did you know I was in London?”
“I didn’t, ma’am. Knowed the Cap’n was coming to London, so I cadged a ride with a carter yesterday and a ’edge and stable—er, vegetable—merchant let me kip on ’is waggon last night. ’S morning I was lucky enough to see you out riding, so I ’oped as you could find it in yer beeootiful and kind ’eart to ’elp me.”
Naomi said staunchly that she would do so, and calling in the footman asked if he knew Sir Mark Rossiter’s new direction. The footman was able to oblige, and shortly thereafter Mr. Tummet departed, bowing, and expressing the depth of his gratitude—a gratitude that deepened when Naomi made him the richer of a gold crown. “Out of sympathy,” she said rather fallaciously, “with your tragic tale.”
She stood at the window, smiling, as she watched him hurry along the flagway. “Let that be a lesson to you, Captain Gideon Rossiter,” she murmured. “And never say this guttersnipe has not done her very best for you!”
* * *
Gideon slept late and awoke feeling much refreshed and cheered by the bright sunshine that flooded his room. His tug on the bell pull brought his brother’s servant, Henri Delatouche, with a breakfast tray. Gideon had never cared for the unctuous little valet and had decided long since that the man’s humility was as suspect as his accent. The breakfast was excellent, however, and as soon as he had done justice to it he turned his attention to his wardrobe.
Six years had not effected a great change in fashions, and although there was now some talk of making waistcoats sleeveless, the style had not as yet been widely adopted. He had feared that his long illness had left him so thin that his civilian clothes would be useless, and was rather pleased to find that, if anything, the coats were a trifle snug across the shoulders. He selected a coat of dark grey velvet, the great cuffs and pockets rich with scarlet embroidery. His waistcoat was silver brocade patterned with red, and his breeches grey silk. Delatouche groaned over so sober a habit for a young man, and when he learned the captain did not intend to have his hair cut short to accommodate a wig, he threw up his hands in despair.
“I did not wear a wig in the Low Countries,” growled Gideon.
“But, monsieur, consider, I implore. ’Ere in London, ze gentleman of fashion ’e would as soon go naked about ze streets as to appear in ’is natural ’air! If no wig, Monsieur le Capitaine must but ’e must certainement ’ave ze powder and ze patches!”
The patches Gideon refused in so stern a voice that Delatouche tearfully surrendered, but an appeal to consider the feelings of his noble papa overcame his resistance to powder and he was ushered to the powder closet, enfolded in a wrapper, and subjected to pomatum and pounce pot. Whatever his vices, Delatouche was skilled in his craft. By the time Gideon was dressed, a great ruby ring slipped onto his hand, and a tricorne tucked under his arm, his mirror showed him an elegant stranger. Even Delatouche was mollified, and said that Monsieur le Capitaine would “drive ze mademoiselles distracted!”
Seconds later, the much tried valet was clutching his brow in despair once more, for no sooner did the Captain step into the hall than Miss Rossiter rose from a chair and with a cry of joy flung herself into his arms.
“Gwendolyn!” Gideon swept her off her feet. “My cheerful sparrow,” he said between kisses. “How lovely you are grown! Why a’God’s name did you perch here in the hall as if I’ve not been yearning to see you? You should have come in at once!”
“I am only thankful you are home safe!” Gwendolyn wiped away happy tears. “I knew you had been wounded, and was fairly beside myself with anxiety. Oh, Gideon, can we talk before you go downstairs?”
“Of course.” Of all his family, this frail, crippled girl was closest to his heart, and with his arm tight around her, he led her back into his room. They sat in the window seat together and scanned each other hungrily; he with prideful approval, she with such obvious anxiety that he tugged a glistening ringlet and asked laughingly, “Am I such a shock, Gwen? You said you knew I’d been brought down. How, by the way?”
“Papa and Newby said I was silly, but I just … knew.”
Naomi had also said she’d thought he’d been hit. He frowned a little. Was it possible that she really had sensed—He dismissed such nonsense impatiently. Such prescience must also argue affection, and if Lady Naomi Lutonville gave affection to anyone it was to her innumerable flirts.
Deeply moved by her brother’s sombre expression, Gwendolyn seized his hand and nursed it to her cheek. “You are alive and w
ill be your old self again in no time. But mon pauvre, I see that it must have been very bad.”
His eyes became blank, and she said at once, “No, please, Gideon, do not shut me out. I have worried for such a long while.”
Repentant, he murmured, “My poor little one. What a fellow I am not to have written. But in truth at first there was small opportunity, and when the opportunity was there,” he gave a wry grin, “the ability was not. Besides, I had no wish to send you bad news. Which was as well, I am persuaded. You had enough already! Gwen, what can you tell me of this disaster?”
“Very little, I fear. I only know there was a run on the bank and that all the other investors backed away and left poor Papa to take full blame. And he did, Gideon. He made no attempt to save what he could for himself, but was concerned only in trying to repay as many as possible of those who had lost their money. You’d scarce believe the nightmare of it. The people who would shout curses after our carriage in the streets … the stones they threw at the windows of the house … the dreadful things that were written in the newspapers!”
He groaned. “Had I been here I might have been able to avert this. At least I could have stood by my father. Small wonder he is disgusted with me!”
“No, no! Just a little put out, perhaps, when you did not sell out as he asked, but I am very sure that now he is only relieved that you are safe home. At all events, it has not been quite so horrid since we moved here. Only … Papa is so proud, you know, and I think it broke his heart when we had to leave Promontory Point.” Her voice became a little scratchy. “I don’t know how long we will be able to stay here. Or … what will become of us.”
She looked very small and wan suddenly, and he pulled her close and gave her a buss. “Silly chit. Had you forgot Emerald Farm? If we are obliged to leave Town, we all can go and live there. You would like that—no?”
Her woebegone face lit up. “Oh, Gideon! I should love it! I had indeed forgot. But—’tis yours, you will be wanting to marry and—” She broke off, her eyes opening very wide. “Or—are you already wed, perchance?”
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