The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy

by Patricia Veryan

  Sir Brian Beech and his son gravitated to Elspeth’s side, as did her diplomatist dinner partner and two eager young gentlemen who had shown a marked interest when they were presented to her before dinner. A quartet of musicians began to tune their instruments. Elspeth was laughingly attempting to choose a partner for a country dance when she caught sight of a familiar head above the throng and her heart leapt.

  Nicholas Drew was impressive tonight, his thick hair powdered and neatly tied back, his evening dress impeccable, and the sabre cut on his cheek piqueing feminine interest. He made his way towards Elspeth and she disappointed her admirers by declaring that she had promised the first dance to an old family friend.

  Her uncle and cousin wandered off at once, but the remaining admirers were made of sterner stuff. Drew came up to bow over her hand, and with a nice blend of humour and expertise he succeeded in detaching her from the ardent little male group without incurring too much animosity. Leading her to a quiet corner near a large potted plant, he said, low-voiced, “How glad I am to find you, Ellie. Were you able to enlist Skye’s support?”

  “Alas, no. Pray do not think me foolish, but—I could not bring myself to ask him.”

  He looked at her curiously, and she gave him a brief account of the situation and of her decision not to involve a faithful friend in so precarious a venture. Drew was silent, his expression grave, and she said anxiously, “You likely think I should put my brother’s life ahead of any other, and that I am involving you, regardless. But—I could not, Nicky! I—I simply could not ask him. I am very sure he would have agreed to do whatever he might, but he scarcely knows Vance, and his papa is so…”

  He took up her hand and patted it comfortingly. “I know. Colonel Skye is a proper tartar and I doubt would hesitate to take out his anger on his wife, which understandably would distress her son.”

  “That’s it exactly. Joel adores his mama and she is so frail, poor lady. But in the meanwhile—I am nigh distracted! My dear brother is hurt and so far away; time passes and I am doing nothing to help him!”

  “Never fret, m’dear. I suspect we’ve several days before they’ll dare question Vance, and I have—” He paused, eyeing her uncertainly. “What is it?”

  In her agitation Elspeth had faced him, her back to the big room. On the wall beside them a great gilded mirror reflected a colourful picture of the guests and the dance that was now ending. Across the room Sir Brian Beech and his son were deep in converse. Even as she saw them, Conrad turned his head and looked towards them. He turned away almost instantly and said something to his father. Sir Brian’s gaze flashed to them. A gentleman and his partner left the dance floor and blocked Elspeth’s view. When they had passed by, Sir Brian and his son were no longer to be seen.

  Drew scanned the room and demanded, “What has disturbed you? Has someone been annoying you?”

  “No, no,” said Elspeth. “My uncle and cousin were here and I’d hoped to introduce you, but I think they have had to leave and—Oh, dear! Here comes Godmama to fetch me. Now tell me quickly, if you please. I failed. Were you more successful?”

  “To an extent—yes. I know of a wealthy peer who has been most influential in helping Jacobite fugitives escape our shores. I went to see him and he promised to find me a boat and perhaps one or two men. We have to be extreme cautious in our dealings, for Lord Geoff—the gentleman is suspected of Jacobite sympathies. He warned me not to come to him again but promised to send instructions to you when he has found a way to help us.”

  Overjoyed, she exclaimed, “When he can help? He did not say if? Oh, but that’s wonderful, Nicky!”

  Bowing to Madame Colbert, Drew said, “I give you good even, ma’am. You are looking very lovely tonight.”

  Madame smiled and said she was glad to see him again. “I thought you were with your uncle, Elspeth. He was anxious to speak with you, and your cousin hoped for the favour of a dance.”

  “I believe they just left,” said Elspeth, glancing again around the room.

  Drew suggested that perhaps they had gone into the card room and offered to find the gentlemen. He returned shortly, having been unable to locate them, and soon was saying his farewells, apologizing that he had an engagement this evening that must be kept. “You know where I live, Miss Clayton,” he said, meeting Elspeth’s eyes steadily. “I would be most grateful if you would let me know when you receive word from Vance.”

  She agreed to this and watched fondly as his tall figure blended into the crowd.

  Madame said, “Such a charming young man. Come now, child. I wish to make Sir Brian and Conrad known to my brother. They must be here somewhere, and Mortimer will scarce believe they are come, after all this while.”

  Her wish was not granted, however. Neither Sir Brian nor his son were to be found, and upon applying to their hostess, Madame was told that they had slipped away quietly since Sir Brian had been slightly indisposed during the voyage from France and tired easily.

  Encouraged as she had been by Drew’s progress, Elspeth could not dismiss her anxieties and had to work hard to appear light-hearted through the hours that followed. Fortunately, Sir Mortimer was not what he termed a “break of day fellow,” and very shortly after midnight he gathered his ladies together and carried them home.

  It had been an eventful day and Elspeth was very weary. She knelt to offer up earnest prayers for Vance’s recovery and begged heavenly assistance in their rescue attempt. Climbing gratefully into bed she found that as is so often the case, once her head touched the pillow her mind began to whirl. Her main concern was for her brother. She could no longer count on Joel’s help, but Nicholas, bless his heart, had said they had about a week in which to act, and he had also given her new reason for hope. Somewhat of an unknown quantity was Mr. Nicholas Drew, in that, aside from the fact that he had fought in the Low Countries, she really did not know how he occupied his time nowadays, or if he still cherished ambitions towards a military or diplomatic career. Whatever the case, she was perfectly sure that he would do everything in his power to free Vance, and not just because of their friendship; woman-like, she had known for some time that he was extreme fond of her.

  Not until she was at last drifting off to sleep did she recall her long-lost relatives. There was really no reason why the reflection she had glimpsed in the Bottesdales’ mirror had disturbed her. It was illogical to have imagined that Conrad had stared at Nicholas with pronounced disfavour. Unless … could it be that he suspected Nicky of trying to fix his interest and judged him an unworthy candidate for her hand? She frowned into the darkness. Despite their relationship she scarcely knew her cousin. What right had he to criticize her friends? Which he might not have done at all … She yawned. More likely, she was being silly because she was worried and upset and her fertile imagination was making a mountain out of a molehill as it tended to do … Vance would have laughed and teased that her “mental charades” were active again …

  She had made many new acquaintances this evening … aristocrats of charm or beauty or high position … Yet the one who stood out most vividly in her memory was that funny little dowager … though she did not seem old enough to be termed such … Elspeth’s last awareness was of Lady Elmira Bottesdale and the bright dark eyes that had seemed determined to penetrate every corner of her mind …

  * * *

  The morning dawned bright and sunny, although, once again, there was a characteristic March wind. In the breakfast parlour, Geroux, Madame’s butler, a tall and stately Frenchman of indeterminate age, immaculate appearance and a good command of the English language, kept an eagle eye on the maid who waited on Elspeth. There was the breeze, he imparted, meeting the maid’s eye and nodding towards the coffee pot. “But the air she is not so cold as on the yesterday.”

  Inadvertently, he disappointed Elspeth when he answered her carefully off-hand question by saying that no messages had been received this morning, aside from a large bouquet of flowers that Sir Brian Beech had sent to Madame.


  Elspeth told herself that she was being foolishly impatient. The mysterious “Lord Geoff” gentleman who had promised his help was himself under suspicion, so Nicholas had said. He probably had to proceed with great caution; she must not expect an immediate response. Knowing this, she was unable to dismiss her anxieties and having taken a light breakfast wandered about the house restlessly. Her godmother had said she would sleep late this morning and breakfast in bed. It was only ten o’clock. Sir Brian and Conrad were to take tea with them this afternoon. Elspeth told herself sternly that she must keep busy during the intervening hours and not allow her mind to dwell upon terrible possibilities.

  She’d scarcely reached that decision than the doorbell and an outburst of barking announced the arrival of a caller. Elspeth’s heart jumped into her throat, but so far as she was aware Nicholas had brought none of his dogs to Town. She went into the morning room, wondering if this might possibly be the delivery of the message she so anxiously awaited, but her hopes were dashed when Geroux announced, “Lieutenant Skye,” and Joel hurried into the room.

  Bright-eyed and windblown he said, “I know it’s a trifle blustery outside. But my mother’s puppy needs exercising and since I’m free until noon I’ve come to persuade you into accompanying us.”

  Elspeth was more than willing and was soon walking beside him along Tyburn Lane, her hands tucked into a warm muff and her hood gathered close against the wind.

  Mrs. Skye’s puppy was named Busy. He was a little past the puppy stage and seemed to Elspeth to be all ears and long legs that flew about rather haphazardly. His name suited him, for he was an energetic animal. Skye could not name the breed and said with a twinkle that his family tree hinted at the hound clan, “among others.” Clearly delighted to be out, Busy’s tail wagged constantly and he had a way of turning his head and looking up with what the Lieutenant said could only be a grateful grin.

  Elspeth was amused by him and by Joel’s comments on his antics and the Colonel’s reaction to “the blasted mongrel,” but her thoughts kept returning to Vance and the knowledge that this was the second day since Nicholas had broken the dread news of his peril. Two days, and what had she accomplished save to run up against a brick wall? Perhaps in leaving the house she had been unwise … Perhaps the message she so anxiously awaited would arrive during her absence …

  Skye began to look at her uneasily, and when they had crossed into Hyde Park he took a ball from his pocket and invited her to throw it for the puppy, who had become wildly excited at the sight of it. “He won’t jump up,” he promised.

  Elspeth saw the concern in his face. She made an effort to be more cheerful for the sake of this dear friend and said laughingly that she would hold him to his word.

  Brightening, Skye apologized for the lateness of the hour. “Had we only been here at six or seven o’clock,” he said blithely, “you might have been treated to a real spectacle.” He leant closer and said in a dramatically low-pitched voice, “There are often duels fought here, you know.”

  “Good gracious!” she exclaimed. “How came you to be so remiss, Joel? If there is one thing I have ever yearned to see, ’tis a duel!”

  Knowing her aversion to such violence, he chuckled and a moment later gave a gasp of dismay as Busy, who had waited with little patience for the next toss of the ball, began to jump up and down, his muddy paws leaving their mark on Elspeth’s cloak.

  “Oh, you naughty little beast,” she scolded, and involuntarily dropped the ball. Busy plunged for it, but Skye was faster. He retrieved the ball and tossed it back to Elspeth, who caught it before either of them realized it was now covered with mud.

  “Ugh!” she exclaimed, and attempting to avoid the prancing dog who clearly did not believe he was in the least naughty, she threw the ball with all her strength towards a nearby clump of trees.

  Ears flapping, Busy tore after it.

  “I’m sorry, Ellie,” began Skye repentantly.

  “Hell and the devil confound you, sir!” roared the tall exquisite who had caught the ball squarely in the eye as he emerged from the trees.

  Skye moaned faintly.

  Elspeth’s shocked gasp died away as she recognized the extremely irate gentleman whose tricorne now resided in the mud and who was wiping more mud from his face. “Dear me,” she exclaimed. “’Tis the same nasty creature who was being so unkind to his servant yesterday!”

  Skye hurried to take up the tricorne and offer it to its fuming owner. “My apologies, Valerian,” he said, failing to look at all remorseful.

  The Dandy snatched his hat and slammed it upon his head. “So it’s you again,” he snarled, dabbing a handkerchief at one eye while the other flickered over Elspeth. “One might suppose you and Madam Disaster live in the park!”

  The tall young clergyman who accompanied him today murmured, “Just an accident, Gervaise. I’m sure Skye did not intend—”

  Busy interrupted this well-meant remark by barking shrilly while bouncing up and down on Valerian’s shoes and sending splashes of mud onto his once spotless hose.

  “Get away, damn you!” shouted the Dandy, the handkerchief held to his streaming eye.

  “Control your temper,” snapped Skye. “There is a lady present.”

  “Control your blasted mongrel,” snarled Valerian, taking an abortive swipe at the exuberant Busy.

  “Do not hurt the poor puppy,” cried Elspeth in alarm.

  “He’s taken a liking to you, is all,” said the cleric soothingly.

  “It ain’t mutual,” snorted the much-tried Dandy.

  “And it ain’t true,” said Skye. “He merely wants you to give back his ball.”

  “I haven’t got his bl—his stupid ball,” declared Valerian.

  “Yes you have,” argued Elspeth. “It’s in your hat.”

  Glowering at her, he wrenched off his tricorne. The muddy ball rolled down his forehead and fell from the end of his nose.

  Momentarily speechless, he blinked down at Busy, who snatched up his prize and pranced off in triumph.

  Skye’s ready sense of humour could not be stifled and he gave a shout of laughter.

  Viewing the unlovely trail the ball had left down the slim nose of this much-admired Dandy, and his almost pathetic bewilderment, Elspeth could not restrain herself and joined in.

  Regaining his voice, Valerian howled, “You’ll pay for this, Skye! Curse you, only look at my new tricorne! And my stockings! Thought it amusing to hurl that filthy ball in my eye, did you? Well, devil take it, you’ll not be laughing when I’ve done with you!”

  “Oh, for goodness sake stop fussing so,” said Elspeth, losing patience with him. “Lieutenant Skye didn’t throw the ball. I did. I’m sorry if your eye smarts, but—”

  “Smarts!” he cried indignantly, still mopping his handkerchief at the damaged article. “You’ll be sorrier if I am blinded, madam, I promise you!”

  “Come now, Gervaise,” put in the clergyman soothingly. “It don’t look that bad to me. I’ll take you to my rooms and—”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” exclaimed his ungrateful friend. “I’ll not have your duchess maudling over me!” Starting away, still holding his eye, he turned back. “As for you, Skye. You’ve not heard the last of this!”

  Watching the fiery individual and his friend march towards Tyburn Lane, Elspeth said uncertainly, “He would not really call you out over so trifling a thing, would he, Joel? Is he dangerous?”

  “I’ve heard he’s a fellow to be reckoned with. Of late his temper’s a bit more hasty than usual, but I think his bark’s worse than his bite.”

  “Like Busy,” said Elspeth with a giggle. “Oh, Joel! Did ever you see a man so astonished as when that ball rolled down his nose?”

  “Fairly conflummerated, wasn’t he?” Laughing, Skye said, “I doubt Valerian is well acquainted with mud!”

  “His clergyman friend is apparently acquainted with a duchess. Or is he wed to the lady? He seemed a likeable enough gentleman.”

  “O
h, yes. I’m sorry I had no chance to present him to you. His name is FitzWilliam Boudreaux. He is related to Lord Boudreaux and he’s Chaplain to the Duchess of Waterbury. Salt of the earth is old Fitz.”

  “Perhaps he’ll manage to calm his volcanic friend.” She asked with a smile, “Do you think I should have offered to replace his tricorne?”

  “We certainly didn’t improve it, did we?”

  “Or his nose,” she said, hilarious. “Did you see that glob of mud that hung off the end?”

  They were still chuckling over the incident when they returned to South Audley Street. Skye pleaded the call of duty and, refusing an offer of refreshment, allowed Busy to propel him homeward.

  From the morning room windows Elspeth watched his erratic progress, smiling fondly as he turned to wave and was jerked away. Such a good man was Joel Skye. It was always a pleasure to be in his company, even if she had been unable to ask his help this time. She allowed the footman to take her cloak before she climbed the stairs to the withdrawing room. The walk in the fresh air and the episode with the muddy Dandy had lightened her spirits. There would surely be a message from Drew today, she thought. Thank heaven she still had his strength to lean on!

  Her godmother was not in the big room but came hurrying in as Elspeth prepared to return to her own bedchamber. “There are roses in your cheeks, child,” she said fondly.

  “And mud on my shoes,” said Elspeth ruefully. “We took Lady Skye’s puppy for a walk in the park, and…” She paused, noting that Madame was wringing her hands, a sure sign of agitation. “Are you displeased, Godmama? The mud will come off, I’m sure.”

  “I am displeased because I have news that must grieve you, dear child.” Madame took Elspeth’s hand and led her to a sofa. “Sit here beside me for a moment.”

  A dread premonition was chilling Elspeth. She said falteringly, “Is it—my brother? Have you had word of him?”

  “No, no. Thank goodness this is not to do with Vance. ’Tis his good friend, dearest. Mr. Drew.”