Stunned, she sat motionless for a minute. So that rake, Valerian, had come to the very same inn to which she had been bound! Infamous as was his abduction of her, at least it had served some purpose. She must confront him at once. The knowledge that she could accuse him of kidnapping a lady of Quality must terrify even so hardened a rake, and he would lose no time in restoring her maid and coachman to her side. She reached for the door, then drew her hand back as another carriage pulled into the yard. A gentleman alighted and assisted a lady down the steps. Mercy, but she could not face respectable people with her hair hanging over her face and her skirts all anyhow. She could hear the young Herbert giving crisp instructions to the ostler and demanding the whereabouts of an apothecary. She must hasten or Valerian would manage to hide his wicked self while instituting his frenzied search for “a woman”!
Not delaying to retrieve the small comb and mirror from her reticule, she scraped her hair into a semblance of tidiness, restored her hood and straightened her skirts. Then, ready to do battle, she climbed from the coach.
Aready the team was being led away. There was no sign of Valerian or his cousin. The ostler turned and gave a yelp of surprise as he saw her. “Apologies, marm,” he gasped, touching his forelock respectfully. “Me helper’s gone orf to fetch a poor lady from a wrecked coach, else I’d’ve see ye ’fore this, but I didn’t know as you was still inside.”
“That’s quite all right,” said Elspeth, smiling on him. “My—brother told me to follow him, but quite forgot to tell me where he was going.”
The faint look of disapproval faded from his weathered countenance. Elspeth could guess what he had been assuming, logically enough if the Deplorable Dandy was a frequent visitor to the High Tide! She added another item to her inventory of Valerian’s misdeeds.
“The gent went into the house, marm,” said the ostler. “In a rare hurry, he wuz, though he shouldn’t oughter have left a lady like you waiting out here. Mr. Langley will show you where he be. Mr. Langley being the propri’ter, marm.”
Elspeth thanked him and hurried across the cobbled yard. The air was more chill now that the sun had gone down, but the cloudy skies were lit by the brief late winter twilight. Opening the back door, she entered a warm and welcoming parlour enriched by the pleasant aromas of burning logs and dinner preparations. The lady and gentleman who had just arrived were talking with a jolly-looking little man at the desk, but there was no sign of Valerian. She was torn between the need to confront him with his villainy and the even more pressing need to find the Reverend Mr. Boudreaux.
The little man at the desk, presumably Langley, the host, rang a handbell and his customers were led away by a maidservant. Elspeth moved forward, saw curiosity come into his eyes and said hurriedly, “I am here to meet a clergyman, Mr. Langley.” She kept her voice low, adding, “The Reverend Mr. FitzWilliam Boudreaux.”
“Ah. Well, the gentleman be upstairs, miss.” Langley’s gaze moved past her, obviously seeking.
“I am accompanying my—brother,” Elspeth lied. “He came in just now, but I do not seem to see him anywhere.”
The host looked relieved. “You’ll be meaning Mr. Newell.” He rang his little bell once more. “We’ve two nice rooms available for tonight, miss, should your brother desire to stay.” The maid descended the short flight of stairs and was told by the host to guide “Miss Newell” to Room 4.
The girl scanned Elspeth with a shrewd female eye that immediately detected an untidiness at odds with garments bearing the unmistakable stamp of an expensive modiste. She bobbed a curtsy and led the way to the stairs. “Will ye be a overnight guest, ma’am?” she enquired.
“My brother will doubtless make suitable arrangements,” evaded Elspeth as they reached the top of the flight. “No, pray do not knock.” She smiled and said in woman-to-woman fashion, “The Reverend is an old family friend and I mean to surprise him.”
The maid looked puzzled but then grinned conspiratorially and hurried to the stairs again.
Elspeth could hear the murmur of male voices inside. She had hoped to find Mr. Boudreaux alone, but determined not to be thwarted, she lifted the latch with caution and eased the door open. The explanation for the housemaid’s perplexity was at once apparent. “Miss Newell” would have little chance of surprising the “old family friend” since her “brother” was even now conversing with him.
‘Valerian!’ she thought indignantly. The wretched rake was yet again ruining her plans! The two men were seated beside the hearth, the clergyman raking at the glowing coals while Valerian leaned forward in his chair and made his desires known in so irate a voice that the new arrival was not noted by either.
“No, I cannot wait,” he rasped. “I need a wench tonight! You’re acquainted hereabouts, Fitz. You likely know a score of women who would jump at the fee I offer!”
“Oh!” gasped Elspeth, outraged that the Dandy would involve a man of the cloth in his lecherous quest.
“’Tis such short notice,” the clergyman demurred hesitantly. “I don’t know if I can in good conscience—”
“The devil fly away with your conscience,” raged Valerian. “I’d not ask you save that poor Bertha’s ankle is severely sprained and, however willing, she cannot serve me.”
Through her teeth, Elspeth hissed, “Foulness! Roué!”
The roué declared hotly, “I am desperate for someone—tonight, I tell you! And you must find me a woman capable of meeting my needs. No, don’t sit there looking righteous, Fitz! It’s your mission in life to be of assistance to your fellow man, and I need assistance in the worst—”
“You evil libertine!” cried Elspeth, advancing into the room, afire with righteous zeal.
Both men sprang to their feet and turned to her, consternation clearly written on their paling faces.
“I knew you were a selfish care-for-nobody,” she accused, flourishing her reticule at Valerian. “But that you would dare tempt a man of God into assisting your salacious debaucheries—”
The Dandy was perfectly white. He gasped out feebly, “L-libertine … debaucheries…? What a’plague ails you, ma’am?”
The Reverend Mr. Boudreaux stammered, “I—I think I have not the pleasure, Miss…?”
“Miss Elspeth Clayton! And ’tis no pleasure to me, sir, that I find you listening to the—the heathen blandishments of this disgraceful creature!”
The clergyman’s jaw dropped.
Glassy-eyed, Valerian declared, “The woman’s daft, Fitz! Never heed her babblings!”
“I collect I am daft because you ran us off the road,” snapped Elspeth, her own eyes flashing with anger. “I suppose you will deny that you stole my coach and kidnapped me away from my servants and—”
“Gervaise!” exclaimed Boudreaux, much shocked. “You never did?”
“I borrowed her coach, merely,” argued Valerian stormily. “As for kidnapping you, ma’am, fustian! Even were you my type of lady—which I assure you is not the case—I’ve not yet found it necessary to kidnap any woman, much less one who is clearly short of a sheet!”
“I distinctly heard you bullying this poor gentleman to obtain you a—a woman because your unfortunate Bertha could not—er, serve you,” said Elspeth, feeling her cheeks become heated.
A gleam of laughter danced into Valerian’s grey eyes. He said, “Jupiter! The light begins to dawn! Fitz, spare my blushes, but I think this witless beauty takes you for my procurer!”
Boudreaux’s eyes opened very wide. He said faintly, “Miss Clayton! Why on earth would you suppose me capable of such a dreadful thing?”
“Because she’s far and away too hot-at-hand,” interjected Valerian. “Just like her brother! And she was incensed because I dared borrow her coach after her idiot coachman had wrecked mine. She followed me here to call me to account.” He bowed mockingly. “Swords or pistols, ma’am?”
“In the first place,” said Elspeth, breathing hard and yearning to scratch his mocking face, “after you stole my reticule—”
“Innocent,” cried Valerian, raising one hand as if under oath.
“It was in my coach when you commandeered it,” Elspeth went on. “And since it contained all my funds, I ran to retrieve it. You slammed the door and drove away, paying no heed to my pleas to be released and driving as if the devil himself sat on your shoulder! Furthermore, I have urgent business of my own with Mr. Boudreaux. You shall have to find your—‘woman’—yourself, Mr. Valerian. And now, pray be so good as to go about it and leave us. At once.”
Valerian clapped his hands. “Jolly well done, Queen Elspeth! I acknowledge I may have been—just a trifle—impetuous, so I will pay the price of your supper. Now, be a good girl and go down to the dining room. As soon as my cousin returns—”
Elspeth sat in the nearest chair. “My business with the Reverend Mr. Boudreaux is of an extreme vital nature—”
The amusement faded from Valerian’s eyes. He said grimly, “And mine is a matter of life and death!” He strode to fling open the door. “Good day, ma’am!”
“You shall have to carry me out,” she declared. And as he smiled without mirth and advanced on her chair, she added shrilly, “Screaming at the top of my lungs!”
“Heaven forfend,” cried the clergyman, paling. “’Twould be the undoing of us all, Gervaise!”
“Then we’ll gag the wench, and—”
“And toss me in the sea?” said Elspeth, judging him perfectly capable of such infamous conduct.
Valerian slammed the door and strode to face her, his eyes deadly and his fists clenched. He said in a soft voice that chilled her blood, “Do you think for one instant, Fitz, that I’ve fought and struggled and spat in Death’s face for nigh three years, only to be defeated by this cloth-headed chit?”
Very frightened, Elspeth managed, “Do you think for an instant, you immoral ruffian, that a British clergyman would stand by and condone the murder of a lady of Quality?”
There was a moment of breathless silence, and trying to keep her voice from shaking, she added, “My servants are nearby, don’t forget! And I told the host I came here with you!”
Glaring down at her through narrowed eyes, Valerian swore deliberately.
Elspeth’s heart was hammering and she began to feel sick.
Boudreaux said, “No need for that, Gervaise. With no little justification the lady holds her cause to be every bit as desperate as your own.”
Valerian looked at him sharply, “She really does seek your aid? Aha! I begin to see! ’Tis that firebrand of a brother, I’ll warrant. What kind of morass has he got himself into this time?”
The clergyman said slowly, “There just may be a way out of this, you know.”
Hope resurging, Elspeth searched his face. “How, sir?”
Valerian snapped, “Well, don’t just stand there looking judgmental, Fitz! Unscramble your teeth!”
Boudreaux said mildly, “I wonder it ain’t occurred to either of you. The simple fact is that Miss Clayton needs—a man! And you, Gervaise—need a female.”
Elspeth screamed.
5
Setting down her glass of ratafia, Elspeth said disdainfully, “I thought you were merely a Deplorable Dandy, but what it is, you are a Demented Dandy! Monstrous mad, in fact! You cannot seriously believe that I—or any other lady of Quality—would lend herself to what appears to be an improper if not downright shocking scheme!”
An hour had passed since the clergyman had uttered his inflammatory remark. A crowded hour during which Freda and Abraham Coachman had arrived at the inn to be reunited with their mistress; Valerian’s young cousin, the shy and unassuming Mr. Herbert Turner, had found an apothecary; and Mrs. Bertha Hoylake had been gently conveyed to a bedchamber at the inn where the unfortunate lady’s sprained ankle was now being tended by the apothecary and the local midwife. Valerian had remained with the victim until convinced that her injury was not of a serious nature and had then rejoined Elspeth and Boudreaux. The clergyman, however, with an uneasy eye on Elspeth’s stormy countenance, had refused to outline his plan until they had dined. The servants had been sent down to take their supper in the coffee room and a private parlour had been hired wherein a surprisingly good meal had been served to Elspeth and the three gentlemen.
The plan the clergyman had then sketched out was greeted by Elspeth with horror, by Herbert Turner with obvious, if speechless, dismay, and by Valerian with delight. “By Jove, Fitz, but you’re a genius,” he’d proclaimed exuberantly. “Take after his lordship, be da—dashed if you don’t! I’d never have thought you’d the wits to concoct so neat a scheme!”
“Nor I have suspected that a man of God could propose such an appalling venture,” said Elspeth tartly.
“Aye, ’twill be chancy, that’s certain,” Valerian acknowledged. “But if we arrange it right and tight, we may just do the thing.” He slanted a glance at Elspeth’s scornful face and added, “Of course, you must decide whether your brother’s life is worth the risk to yourself, ma’am. If it’s too much for your sense of propriety, I’ll find myself a lady with more backbone.”
Elspeth flushed, and Herbert Turner said in his diffident way, “You’re asking Miss Clayton to risk ruining herself, Gervaise. If such an escapade should be discovered—”
“If it should be discovered, we’ll all be in very hot water,” admitted Valerian. “I have no hesitation in running the risk, but if Miss Clayton sets her reputation above her brother’s life, I shall have to find a less timid female.”
Elspeth did her best to vanquish him with a frigid glare, but perceiving his sneering grin to be unshaken, she said coldly, “Since I am judged a ‘timid female,’ let me see if I have sufficient wit to perfectly understand Mr. Boudreaux’s plan. ’Twould seem that one of Valerian’s ‘friends’—” She paused and said ironically, “A lady friend, no doubt?”
Valerian waved a languid hand. “But of course.” Laughter danced into those darkly lashed grey eyes. He added in a provocative whisper, “A widow, in fact!”
With a curl of the lip, Elspeth murmured, “I wonder why that should not surprise me. This—friend—had expected to come into a considerable inheritance, is that the case?”
He nodded. “Her late husband’s home and fortune. Instead, she learned that everything was to pass to a distant male relative whereupon she would be dispossessed with no more than a pittance.”
“It seems excessive harsh,” she said, eyeing him dubiously. “Surely her husband must have made some provision for her?”
“I dislike to speak ill of the dead,” he declared. “But to say truth, her husband was a nip-cheese. In fairness I own that he was carried off very suddenly, and being in generally good health and on the light side of fifty, he had seen no urgency in drawing up a will. The courts decided that the house and property—the whole estate, even to the bulk of the widow’s jewels, must pass to some fellow living in—South America, I believe. Poor Geraldine would be rendered quite penniless. One can scarce blame her for fighting for what she considers to be her own.”
“By which you mean she has decided to skip across to France with as many of her valuables as she can convey,” said Elspeth dryly.
“A justifiable course of action that the authorities, being a lot of fumble-wits, would deem to be theft.” Valerian glanced at his clerical friend, who appeared to have been struck dumb by this summation, and asked, “Right, Fitz?”
“Oh,” gulped the clergyman.
“You see?” interposed Elspeth, alarmed by the stunned expression on Mr. Boudreaux’s face. “Your friend is a godly man, and he knows that the lady is in the wrong of it.”
“Stuff!” exclaimed Valerian rudely. “Fitz has gone off into one of his wide-awake snoozes is all.” He reached over and shook Boudreaux’s shoulder. “Wake up! You know Geraldine has right on her side!”
“Who?” mumbled the clergyman.
“Merciful mackerels! Geraldine—you pious great lamebrain! My lady friend!”
“Ah!” Boudreaux blinked
owlishly. “Geraldine. Just so!” He drew a deep breath, smiled brightly at Elspeth, and remarked, “That’s the barber!”
Valerian turned his head and murmured in a confiding manner, “A jolly good fellow, but wits to let at times. Fell out of a tree when he was six.” And in a more normal tone, “So you understand now, do you, ma’am?”
Elspeth forced her attention from the clergyman’s vacuous grin and said tartly, “What I understand, sir, is that this lady, Mrs. Geraldine…?”
“Nugent,” supplied Turner. “Mrs. Geraldine Nugent.”
“Newell!” said Valerian sharply. “She dare not use her own name for this journey so we decided to name her Newell! You’ve not forgot already, I trust? For Lord’s sake keep your wits about you, Herbert!”
Herbert flushed scarlet and stammered an apology.
Valerian glared at him and growled, “You’d a question I believe, ma’am?”
“I hope you’ll correct me if I’ve the wrong impression,” said Elspeth coldly. “I gather the lady, whatever her name may be, is using a Bath chair so as to smuggle her jewels and valuables out of the country, which is unlawful. And that I am to become a fellow conspirator by pretending to be her nurse. Though for the life of me I cannot see how that is to help my poor brother, nor what a black cat has to do with the scheme! And since we are rapidly running out of time, I wish you will make it clear to me.”
Valerian appeared to grind his teeth. “Had you been listening when Fitz spelled it all out—”
“I was in a state of shock. Understandably.”
“The cat is the clue to the thing, don’t you see? Geraldine has this revolting black kitten—”
“What is revolting about a kitten? Are you one of those nasty men who dislike cats?”
“But of course! Ascribe every villainy to me if ’twill set your mind at ease. The Deplorable Dandy loathes cats! Which has nothing to say to the fact that my Geraldine loves the little yowlers. When we enter France she will be cuddling Pixie (its name is Pixie) in her lap—”
The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy Page 7
