The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy

by Patricia Veryan

  “Someone outside,” said Valerian, swinging the cabin door open and sticking his head outside. “Very well,” he called, then turned back to say, “’Twas the cabin boy to say we’re putting in to port at last. Come along now, ma’am. You should be packing your frills and furbelows so as to—”

  “But it was not from outside,” argued Elspeth, drawing back. “I feel sure it came from in here.”

  “That is because we have the haunted cabin,” he said, tugging at her arm. “Did I not tell you?”

  “Really, Gervaise,” scolded his aunt. “’Twas but poor Herbert, my dear. He is so wretched, and—”

  With a crash the wardrobe door burst open. A dishevelled figure leapt out and sprang towards Valerian, who at once pushed Elspeth away from him.

  “Murderous traitor!” shouted the newcomer, drawing back his fist.

  Herbert jumped from the bunk and reeled forward and the blow intended for Valerian sent him sprawling.

  “Joel!” cried Elspeth, recovering from her momentary stupefaction.

  Equally astonished, Skye halted as if turned to stone. “Elspeth,” he gasped. “What—on earth…?”

  Valerian’s powerful left jab caught him under the ear and he went down as if shot.

  “Oh! You horrid, horrid brute!” exclaimed Elspeth, and snatching up Mrs. Newell’s reticule from the wash-stand, she swung it with all her strength at the head of the Dandy. It occurred to her even as she did so that the reticule was much heavier than she had anticipated and there came a brief half-formed thought that perhaps it did contain the jewels Valerian had listed. Whatever the case, the impact brought a smothered cry from him. He went to his knees, then sagged and lay inert on the floor.

  8

  For an instant the cabin was very still. Elspeth stood staring numbly at the three young men spread out at her feet, fully expecting that Valerian, whom she had begun to believe was indestructible, would get up at any second. He made no move, however. She thought, horrified, ‘God forgive me! I’ve killed him!’

  The murder weapon fell from her nerveless hand and landed with a heavy thud.

  As if restored by the sound, Mrs. Newell left the bunk and ran to kneel beside Valerian, whispering his name in a distraught fashion that struck Elspeth to the heart. She half-sobbed, “Oh! I didn’t think—I didn’t mean—I am so sorry!”

  Valerian moaned faintly and moved his head.

  Elspeth drew a steadying breath and said defiantly, “No, I’m not! He deserved it!” She bent over Skye, who was still motionless. “Joel, dear, please wake up!”

  Mrs. Newell commanded authoritatively, “Get some water and a rag, Miss Clayton! Quickly!”

  Elspeth went at once to the wash-stand. She soaked a towel in the water jug, took up the jug and, turning back, saw that Herbert was stirring. She poured a little water on his face and, as he spluttered and coughed, proceeded to pour a much larger amount of water over the Dandy.

  Valerian jerked up, swore and clutched his head.

  Elspeth knelt at Skye’s side and bathed his pale face gently with the dripping towel. “My poor dear,” she said sympathetically. “Are you feeling better?”

  He blinked up at her and muttered, “I must be … dreaming…”

  “How are you, Herbert?” asked Mrs. Newell. Her voice sounded odd. Glancing at her, Elspeth gained an impression of unladylike abandonment. But even as she wondered that her mind could hold such a prim and nonsensical thought at so tense a moment, she compounded the felony by a vague awareness that the lady had rather big feet.

  Herbert said a muddled, “Very—good … thank you, sir.”

  “You little—wretch!” On one elbow and with his aunt’s arm still about his shoulders, Valerian was holding the reticule that had struck him down. He sounded faintly admiring rather than enraged, but there was a streak of blood on his temple and he was very white. “Never had so many men at your feet at one time, I’ll warrant,” he said ironically.

  Elspeth felt a pang of remorse, but said a defiant, “I’m sorry if I hit you harder than I’d meant, but you had no business to knock down Lieutenant Skye so viciously!”

  “Oh, had I not!” Coming to his feet with the assistance of his aunt, he swayed slightly, then drew a long pistol from the reticule.

  Taken aback to discover that so gentle a creature as Mrs. Newell should bravely carry a weapon that she almost certainly would not know how to fire, Elspeth exclaimed, “Good gracious!”

  Valerian rasped, “Stand away from him!”

  “No! I will not! Are you gone mad, sir? Lieutenant Skye has very kindly come to help me, and there is no—”

  “Nonsense! He hadn’t the vaguest notion you were here, nor has he come to help your foolish brother, if that’s the melodrama you’re concocting!” His eyes were narrowed painfully, and he allowed his aunt to guide him to sit on a bunk, but kept the pistol trained on Skye as he called, “How do you go on, Herbert?”

  “Better, I thank you.” Herbert’s voice was still shaken, but he was on his feet and clinging to a bunk. “What’re we going to do, Gervaise?”

  Skye struggled to sit up and Elspeth helped him lean back against the wall. Bewildered, she said, “Joel, I don’t understand. Does Mr. Valerian mean that you’ve been sent to arrest his poor aunt?”

  Valerian uttered a snort of mirthless laughter, then ducked his head, wincing.

  Glancing at Mrs. Newell, Skye said coldly, “No, m’dear. I am assigned to arrest an enemy of the Crown we’ve been chasing these three years! And what in heaven’s name you are doing on this packet, and with this unholy trio, is what I cannot fathom! Unless—are you perchance travelling under the protection of Sir Conrad Beech?”

  “By no chance! The lady travels under my protection,” declared Valerian with deliberate double entendre.

  “You—lie!” Skye dragged himself to his feet. “You filthy-mouthed swine! Miss Clayton wouldn’t cross—cross the street with you! Elspeth, if he has involved you—”

  “I’m afraid that is not the way of it,” faltered Elspeth miserably. “The truth is—”

  “You’ve no need to explain anything to him,” snapped Valerian.

  “You prefer to ‘explain matters’ to my Commanding Officer,” Skye flung at him.

  Herbert said wearily, “He’s right about one thing, Gervaise. We have involved the lady. She will likely be judged an accomplice.”

  “For Mrs. Newell to claim her own jewellery is scarcely treasonable,” said Elspeth.

  Skye frowned and asked a perplexed, “What jewellery? Elspeth, what jiggery-pokery Canterbury tale have they hoaxed you with? You surely must be aware that this person is not Mrs. Newell?”

  Elspeth said uncertainly, “Perhaps the lady had to use a false name whilst we were still in England, but—”

  “Enough!” The firm command came from Mrs. Newell, though the voice was harsher than her usual soft tones. Standing, she declared, “I think our charade is done!”

  Valerian argued, “Not necessarily. We shall have to be rid of Skye is all. He knows—”

  Horrified, Elspeth interposed, “What do you mean—‘be rid of’ him?”

  “He means I’m to be thrown overboard,” said Skye grimly. “Or murdered and my corpse stowed away somewhere.”

  Valerian sneered, “Jolly good thinking!”

  “How can you be so wicked?” cried Elspeth. “I know that I promised to help you, ma’am, but no jewels ever bought are worth the sacrifice of a human life!”

  Skye demanded tersely, “Why would you have made such a promise, Elspeth? Never say you are betrothed to this villain?”

  “Of course I am not,” declared Elspeth.

  Valerian grinned and muttered something sotto voce.

  Ignoring him and the sensation that, stupidly, her face was red, Elspeth went on: “Mr. Valerian has agreed to help me get Vance home safely, Joel. He has been arrested for acting as courier for Madame de Pompadour. He is wounded and imprisoned somewhere near Rouen, and I am—I am s
o terribly afraid he will be sent to the guillotine before we can rescue him!”

  Skye growled angrily, “And you turned to this traitor for assistance instead of to me?”

  “How could I ask you to help me again, when I knew your father would be enraged if you agreed? And poor Nicholas cannot help, because he is recovering from being attacked by Mohocks. Mr. Valerian needed a lady to assist his aunt on a—a matter of personal business, and I needed a gentleman to help poor Vance, so we—we reached an understanding. I know you cannot like it, dear Joel, and that my reputation is very likely ruined, but—truly, Mr. Valerian is neither a villain nor a traitor!”

  “Anyone who gives aid to an enemy of the King is a traitor,” said Skye inexorably.

  “I am not an enemy of the King,” declared Elspeth, incensed, “no more is Vance!”

  “But I am!” The individual Elspeth knew as Mrs. Newell stood and took off her elegant wig to reveal close-cropped greying hair. With an imperious gesture she commanded in a cultured but decidedly masculine voice, “Be still, Gervaise! I shall make my own apologies, if you please!”

  Valerian, who had come to his feet also and attempted to intervene, gave a resigned shrug and was silent.

  Gazing from one to the other, bewildered, Elspeth stammered, “You—are a traitor, ma’am—er, sir?”

  “I am also Sir Simon Valerian.” With a weary sigh, the erstwhile ‘Mrs. Newell’ sat down again.

  “Who harbours a fondness for Jacobites,” grunted Skye.

  Valerian snarled, “Who has a generous heart and a willingness to risk his own life so as to help anyone hunted to a cruel death!”

  “They took arms ’gainst their country!” said Skye hotly.

  The little cat, which had taken refuge somewhere, now jumped onto the bunk again and made itself comfortable on Sir Simon’s lap. Stroking it fondly, he argued, “They fought bravely for a cause they believed best for England, and when they were defeated they had a right to be treated as honourable men, instead of which they were persecuted and slaughtered like animals!”

  Valerian said, “My sire’s heinous crime was that he sought nothing more evil than to help them, and—”

  “And was so foolish as to get in the way of a musket ball,” interposed Sir Simon with a wry smile. “As a result of which my very faithful and gallant son has struggled for three years to keep me hidden, win me back to health and bring me safely to France.”

  Trying to take it all in, Elspeth said, “But—but everyone believes you and Mr. Valerian are hopelessly estranged.”

  “A clever ruse,” muttered Skye. “Concocted to screen Gervaise Valerian’s efforts to protect his father.”

  Her eyes glowing, Elspeth said, “Oh, my! Well, I think it splendid! So there were no jewels at all, Sir Simon?”

  “No jewels, child,” he admitted. “My son has a ready imagination. And he strives to see me reunited with his mother, who awaits us in Italy. I’m sorry we had to lie to you, but Gervaise thought that for your own sake the less you knew the better.”

  Elspeth nodded. “I quite understand, and I am so glad he has stood by you. I’ll keep my word and help in any way possible, but—”

  “Devil you will!” interrupted Skye angrily. “D’you not realize that by taking part in this crazy scheme you may well be putting your pretty head on the block alongside theirs?”

  It was a fearsome truth and Elspeth was suddenly very cold. Her voice trembled slightly when she said, “Mr. Valerian has promised to help free Vance. The least I can do in return is to keep my word to them.” Turning to Sir Simon, she added, “But you must not kill Joel, sir.”

  Valerian said impatiently, “It’s his life or ours, and your precious brother’s, to boot! Have some sense, do!”

  Elspeth smiled into Skye’s strained and bruised face. “You will not betray us, will you, my dear friend?”

  Skye knew that resolute tilt to her chin and his heart sank, but he did not answer.

  Herbert, who had said very little during this intense discussion, now pointed out quietly, “He is a serving officer, Miss Elspeth. He has no choice.”

  Elspeth looked searchingly at the unhappy Skye. “Joel…? I beg you. Surely, you could just look the other way? Does your Commanding Officer know you suspect us?”

  Valerian interposed, “Who is your CO, by the way?”

  “A friend of yours, I believe. Joshua Swift.”

  Father and son exchanged grim glances.

  “Well, that throws the fox in with the hens,” muttered Sir Simon.

  Gervaise said slowly, “Swift is Military Intelligence. You’re Navy. Temporary assignment?”

  Skye nodded.

  “With your future resting on success, I’ll wager,” said Sir Simon.

  “And your father watching you like a hawk.” Elspeth sighed. “Poor Joel. Herbert’s right—you have no choice. But if we—you gentlemen—were to tie him up and lock him in—in the hold or somewhere, he could not be blamed.”

  “Were he under my command I’d blame him,” grunted Valerian. “Besides, he’d break free and be after us again! We’re far from safe yet, Miss Elspeth.”

  Herbert said, “Perhaps the Lieutenant can offer a solution.”

  For a moment while they all watched him, Skye was silent, looking down, his lips set into a thin, uncompromising line. He raised his eyes then and gazed at Elspeth. How anxious she was, poor girl, how dear and desirable and foolish. He loved her so very much and he knew how she adored her brother … With a sigh that was something of a groan, he said, “If you will allow me to take you back to England, I’ll give my word to say nought to the authorities that would jeopardize Sir Simon, or hinder his son’s attempt to help Vance. That’s the best I can offer, Elspeth.”

  “And it’s not good enough,” grated Valerian.

  Deeply moved, Elspeth said, “’Twould mean the ruin of your career, Joel.”

  “And the breaking of your oath to serve your country,” murmured Sir Simon.

  Skye reached out and took Elspeth’s hand. “My dearest girl—you know how I feel where you are concerned. How I have always felt. You love Vance, but he’s a grown man, and must have understood the chances he took when he worked for La Pompadour. He’d not thank me if I allowed you to run yourself into danger. You’ve taken too many chances already in this forlorn venture. You’ve tried, Ella. Be done now, and come home with me, I beg you!”

  Tears dimmed Elspeth’s eyes. She knew how hard he had fought to rise in his chosen career and how much it meant to him. She said huskily, “It is so very dear of you to make such an offer, but—I cannot, Joel. Mr. Valerian really needs me to go with them. Besides, I gave my word!”

  “No!” Skye pulled Elspeth aside and faced Valerian, demanding fiercely, “Do you want her to die? Release her of her promise, you conscienceless care-for-nobody!”

  Valerian drawled, “Of course I don’t want Miss Clayton to die. To the contrary, I shall do all in my power to prevent such a disaster. But I care for my father, the lady cares for her brother, and forlorn or not, we are partners in this endeavour. ’Twould appear you are the one who puts us all in jeopardy.”

  Sir Simon said gravely, “Even so, Gervaise, the Lieutenant is correct. Miss Clayton has taken great risks to assist us and should not be held to a promise that will further endanger her.”

  With the pistol still steadily aimed, Valerian argued, “Without her help it will be more risky to smuggle you ashore, sir. Or smuggle her silly brother out of France! If she chooses to break her given word, however, I’ll accept that, and we’ll manage somehow. If not—Skye must be dealt with. Make up your mind, ma’am.”

  Elspeth wrung her hands distractedly. “What a dreadful choice you give me! My beloved brother—or my dear friend!” She reached out to Sir Simon. “Sir—please! I cannot abandon Vance to a cruel death! I cannot! If Mr. Valerian will but promise not to murder Joel—”

  Sir Simon looked at his son steadily.

  Valerian’s eyes fell. “Oh, ve
ry well,” he growled. “I hope we may not all pay a bitter price! Herbert, find something to tie and gag this military opportunist, and we’ll stow him away somewhere!”

  After a brief and subdued consultation, Herbert and Sir Simon began to tear a sheet into strips.

  Dabbing a handkerchief at her eyes, Elspeth said a choked, “Thank you, Mr. Valerian! I swear I’ll do all in my power to help. Joel, dear—forgive me, but—”

  Very white, Skye said harshly, “How can I forgive? Not that your friends threaten me, but that your dear life is endangered by their probably ill-conceived schemes. Valerian—at least tell me you do have a plan to rescue Vance Clayton.”

  Valerian said, “We know where he’s being held and we’ve been promised help along the way. To what extent I cannot say.”

  Skye groaned, “Is that all? My dear God! You’ll walk into a hornet’s nest and drag this precious lady with you!”

  Sir Simon, who was looking increasingly troubled, said, “Gervaise, I am so very grateful for all your care of me, but—”

  Valerian intervened, “I know, sir. But ’tis the lady’s brother. The decision must be her own.”

  Skye drew a despairing hand across his eyes, then drew his shoulders back, took a deep breath and said, “Never mind about your blasted makeshift rope. I can’t leave Miss Clayton in such careless hands. I shall have to go with you.”

  They all stared at him speechlessly.

  Then, “You’ll—what?” said Valerian.

  “I mean what I say. I’m coming with you, if only to protect Miss Clayton.”

  Valerian smiled cynically. “And to report us to the authorities as soon as we land, no doubt! A real feather in your cap that would be, eh, Skye?”

  “Joel never would do such a thing!” said Elspeth firmly. “I’ve known him most of my life. His word is his bond.”

  Sir Simon observed, “I think we do not have the Lieutenant’s word as yet, Gervaise.”

  “Then you have it now,” said Skye resolutely. “I will help in whatever way I am able. I’ll not betray any of you. I swear it.”

  Elspeth gave a smothered sob and threw her arms around his neck.