Suddenly shy, she met his eyes squarely and saw the fury in their grey depths soften into an expression that took her breath away. It was a brief awareness, then she bent to her task again.
The room was hushed. Neither of the two men who witnessed that revealing exchange spoke, and their reactions were very different. Sir Simon was faintly smiling, but it seemed to Joel Skye that time was frozen and he watched the little tableau as from a great distance, a smile very far from his eyes and his lips set into a thin, tight line.
Elspeth finished her bandage as Herbert came to announce that Madame Bossuet urged them to prepare for dinner. They were all tired; Elspeth longed for her bed and had to force herself not to snap at Freda, who gabbled on incessantly about their “drefful ordeals,” and that she “dursn’t think” what dear Mrs. Clayton would say if any of it reached her ears.
Elspeth’s thoughts had taken a different turn. She judged Valerian to be near exhaustion, but her recommendation that he lie down upon his bed, where a tray could be carried to him, was flatly rejected. She protested indignantly that she’d done her best for him but he must face the fact that he had taken a nasty cut and she could only do so much to help. Her efforts, he acknowledged gratefully, were very much appreciated but there were still plans to be made, and speedily. Persisting, she turned to Joel and pleaded that he add his “always sensible” opinion to her own, only to be shocked when he replied with unusual acerbity that Valerian was a grown man who must be aware of his limitations. Sir Simon promised he would see to it that his son retire directly after they dined, with which she had to be content, and Valerian bowed and thanked “Nurse,” then went off to find another shirt.
It was a weary and subdued group who gathered in the dining room shortly afterwards. Valerian came downstairs, his elegance restored, bringing with him a cheerful attitude, reminding them of their successes to this point and urging that they not put on the airs of a funeral party.
The stout and rosy-cheeked maid who carried in a large tureen of leek soup looked pleasurably excited rather than distraught. Madame Bossuet seemed less nervous as she filled serving bowls and explained to “Madame Newell” that Cook had done her best to ensure that the guests would enjoy a splendid dinner. Cook fulfilled this promise, following the excellent soup with a steamed fish stuffed with crabmeat, creamed mushrooms, tiny potatoes tossed with butter, and fragrant freshly baked rolls; the second remove consisted of chicken wrapped in flaky pastry, green beans with pearl onions, and thinly sliced beef stewed in red wine, which latter dish was provided, declared Madame Bossuet proudly, especially for the English palates around her table.
Sir Simon and Herbert did justice to this excellent repast, but Elspeth noted that Valerian ate sparingly and took no wine, which his father murmured was “very wise.” She was rather ashamed to discover that in spite of the ordeals of this hectic day she was ravenous, and she even indulged herself with a small portion of the caramel creme that was served with sugar wafers and tarts as dessert.
Conversation was guarded while Madame Bossuet or the maid were in the room. When the meal ended and the ladies adjourned to the front parlour, Valerian, Skye and Herbert lost no time in joining them.
“Now we must decide our route,” Valerian began, then stopped as his father lifted a delaying hand.
“A moment, Gervaise,” said Sir Simon, stroking the little cat which had again taken possession of his lap. “Do you know what our unwelcome visitors wanted with you, Miss Elspeth?”
Valerian had leaned back wearily in his chair but at this he jerked upright, flinched involuntarily but demanded, “What’s this?”
The fierce struggle and her impromptu attempt at nursing had driven the memory from Elspeth’s mind, but she now felt a pang of apprehension and exclaimed, “Good gracious, that’s right! I’d quite forgot! And indeed, I’ve no least notion, sir.”
“About what? Tell me!” demanded Valerian.
Skye said, “As far as I recall, one of them, the ringleader, I think, said that Miss Clayton is of the Quality, and English, and that they should take her away at once!”
“My dear God!” gasped Valerian. “Did they think to hold an English lady for ransom? Is that why they followed us?”
Sir Simon pursed his lips, then said slowly, “I rather doubt it. They were definitely looking for someone. In fact—this was while you were down, Lieutenant—one of them said that Miss Elspeth was dressed like a servant, and he thought they had been … ah, ‘misled’ was the word, as I recall. I was surprised, as I’d assumed they’d come for me!”
Valerian lifted a hand to his temple and muttered dazedly, “As had I. Jupiter! I’m properly bowled out!”
“But since they apparently didn’t want you, sir,” said Herbert, “why would they have tried to abduct Miss Clayton, unless it was for the white-slave traffic?”
Valerian said, “Or perhaps they planned to use her to force her brother to tell what was in the letter he carried and what has become of it.”
Skye saw that Elspeth was looking frightened and he said gently, “Never fret, ma’am. They didn’t succeed and you may be sure we’ll guard you from now on.”
“But how could they know who I am, or why I am in France?” argued Elspeth, bewildered. “Nobody knew. Even my poor godmama doesn’t know! ’Twas such a scrambling last-minute arrangement.”
“What other reason could there be?” said Herbert. “If it were just a matter of kidnapping an English lady for ransom, heaven knows there are plenty of them in France. Not only did they go to the trouble of following us here, but they appear to have been intent on you and you alone, ma’am. No, to my … mind…” He glanced at his cousin and the glare in the grey eyes caused him to falter, “Not that I want to—to alarm you, Miss Elspeth.”
“How glad I am to know that,” snarled Valerian.
“I think ’tis a puzzle we’re not like to solve tonight,” interposed Sir Simon. “Gervaise, you should be in your bed, and I’m very sure Miss Clayton is weary. Let us retire now and—”
“Before we do, and by your leave, sir,” said Valerian sharply, “I must tell you that a coach will come early in the morning to convey you to meet Mama.”
Sir Simon’s eyes blazed and a flush warmed his haggard cheek. “You believe we are safe, then?”
“Unless our naval gentleman has a surprise for us,” answered his son, his sardonic gaze turning to Skye.
“Did I intend to spring that surprise, I’d have arrested Sir Simon at the port, where I’d have had plenty of help,” said Skye with cool deliberation. “As it is, I go wherever Miss Clayton goes.”
“Which is—where, lad?” asked Sir Simon anxiously.
Valerian glanced to the closed door, then leaned forward and said softly, “To a chateau on the Seine near Rouen.”
Herbert asked, “Do we ride, or hire a boat?”
“You and the Lieutenant ride,” answered Valerian. “Miss Clayton and her maid will travel in the coach Lord Boudreaux has so kindly provided us.”
Elspeth’s heart had sunk at the prospect of another water journey, but at this she said, “How very helpful he has been. Shall we be driven by the same coachman? The little man who drove us today?”
“Just so. He is called Marcel and I gather has worked for Lord Boudreaux on several occasions.”
“You are sure he’s trustworthy?” asked Herbert uneasily. “If you’ve doubts about the fellow, I can drive us. I can handle a four-in-hand, you know.”
“Heaven forfend,” said Valerian. “The last time you drove for me—”
Flushing darkly, Herbert interrupted, “That’s not fair. You said yourself it was the fault of Miss Clayton’s coachman.”
Elspeth opened her mouth to argue this point, but meeting Herbert’s unhappy glance closed it again.
“True,” said Valerian, adding with a teasing grin, “I apologize, cousin.”
“Now I know you are not well,” said Elspeth. “Sir Simon, cannot the rest of it wait till tomorrow morn
ing?”
“It can, and shall,” he said, Pixie in his arms as he rose from the Bath chair. “By Jupiter but I shall be free of these con—er, these confining garments at last!”
Ushered to the stairs where their candles waited, Elspeth heard him say to his son, “Thanks to you I’m free, and very soon I shall see my dear wife again! I can scarce believe it!”
Joel handed Elspeth her candle and wished her good night. She smiled at him, but her thoughts turned to Vance. How wonderful it would be if within another day or so she would see him and, somehow, they would succeed in freeing him from those who held him prisoner in the Rouen chateau.
11
Elspeth came downstairs early the following morning drawn by the fragrance of freshly baked bread. A weak sun slanted its pale beams through the windows of the dining parlour where Sir Simon, clad in his own garments, had arrived before her. He was bright-eyed and cheerful and wished her a good day. Joel Skye sprang up from the table to pull out her chair, from which Pixie then had to be evicted. The table was laden with various cheeses, little pots of preserves, slices of cold veal and ham, warm bread, rich fresh butter and bowls of apples and pears. The maid came bustling in to pour Elspeth’s coffee and gather her selections. The coffee was excellent and Elspeth was spreading butter on a slice of bread when Valerian came from the stables grumbling because the coach that was to carry his father to Italy should have arrived by this time. He greeted Elspeth with rather forced courtesy and responded to her enquiry with a brusque assurance that he felt very well this morning. Herbert, he announced, was “earning his keep” having ridden out to conduct a reconnaissance of the neighbourhood. With a stern glance at Elspeth he added, “In case more of Miss Clayton’s admirers are lurking about.”
She had learned by now that he disliked being, as he put it, “maudled over,” so she retaliated by commenting sweetly that despite his alleged “recovery” he looked pale and she was sure Madame Bossuet’s cook would gladly prepare him some gruel. Sir Simon looked amused but nodded in agreement. Valerian growled under his breath and, having already helped himself from several of the platters on the table, proceeded to convey an additional slice of cheese to his plate while eyeing Elspeth defiantly.
She said with a sigh, “Why must men be such naughty little boys?”
He grinned at that, but before he could comment Herbert ran in to announce cheerfully that he’d seen no sign of their former antagonists, so they could breakfast in peace.
His optimism proved justified and the meal was almost over when the rumble of wheels outside announced the arrival of a coach. Sir Simon sprang to his feet, but Valerian, hurrying to the window, said a frowning, “Wait, sir!” and his father sat down again. A moment later Valerian reported that both the expected coaches were here.
Through a sudden silence Valerian and Sir Simon gazed at each other and scarcely noticed when the others quietly left them alone.
* * *
Soon afterwards, they gathered to bid Sir Simon farewell. He thanked them profusely for their help, but clearly he was reluctant to part from his son and he lingered, worrying for his injury until Valerian laughed at him and said he knew very well his father would forget all about him the moment he saw his beloved wife again. He gave Sir Simon a letter he’d written to his mother, the two men embraced, and having caressed Pixie and made Valerian promise to restore her to him at the earliest opportunity, Sir Simon walked hurriedly down the steps to the yard, where a servant and two outriders waited beside a fine carriage.
They all waved as the team leaned into their collars, and Valerian stood watching until the coach was quite out of sight. Pulling back his shoulders then, he said brightly that a great weight had been removed from him now that Sir Simon was at last safely delivered into the hands of his mother’s people.
Elspeth was not deceived. Father and son were deeply attached and that their parting had been wrenching she knew very well. She hurried upstairs to help Freda gather their belongings while Valerian and Skye went out to confer with Coachman Marcel and the guard Lord Boudreaux had hired to transport them to the unknown chateau near Rouen. Valerian had muttered something to Herbert, who’d been about to accompany them but had at once glanced at Elspeth and stationed himself at the foot of the stairs.
She’d said teasingly, “Does your cousin fancy I mean to run away, Herbert?” And he’d answered, “He wants you guarded, ma’am, lest more of those varmints come after you!”
It was a chilling reminder and she had to concentrate on the belief that she had been chosen to be abducted at random and not for some evil purpose connected with her brother’s captivity. She was relieved when Valerian came back as she was descending the stairs. He waved a folded paper at her which he said contained instructions as to the fighting men who’d been hired to assist Elspeth’s rescue attempt, as well as a map to the chateau where they would find Vance.
“Do we have a plan to free my brother?” she asked eagerly.
He shrugged. “We’ll have to play the cards as they are dealt.”
“But we do know he’s still alive?”
“We know he was when this map was drawn.”
Impatient, she said, “When was that? Do you know? Where are we to meet these men who will help us? What are you not telling me? Is there—”
He clutched his hurt wrist, bowed his head and groaned loudly.
At once all concern, she lifted his chin gently and scanned his face. The twinkle in his eyes gave him away.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You’re teasing! How can you when you know how worried I am!”
He protested indignantly, “I am a severely wounded man and entitled to freedom from persecution, so—”
“And so is my poor brother!” she flared. “Tell me, I beg you!”
Sobering, he answered, “When there is something worth sharing, ma’am, I’ll tell you. Meanwhile, you’d do well to check your room again for the things you’ve neglected to pack. You women always forget something!”
“As you know from your vast experience,” she said with a curl of the lip.
“But of course.” He bowed. “Freda, run to the kitchen and be sure Pixie’s food and water bowls and her—ah, personal commode are put in the coach. Oh, egad! And did I make you blush, Nurse Cotton?”
Elspeth ignored him and went, she trusted with dignity, upstairs, where she found to her chagrin that she had indeed overlooked her reticule that had been accidentally covered by the eiderdown. When she went downstairs again Valerian was no longer at the foot of the stairs and she was spared the ironic lift of his dark brow, which she’d feared would await her.
At last their valises and trunks were packed into the boot, Herbert and Skye mounted up, the carriage door was slammed, the guard climbed to the box, Coachman Marcel cracked his whip, chirruped to his horses and the coach rumbled out of the yard and into the lane.
Pixie wandered restlessly from lap to lap and stood on her hind legs to peer out of the window. Clearly distressed, she began to wail and the attempts of Elspeth and Freda to console her were unavailing.
Valerian was morose and silent. Suspecting that he and the cat shared a similar grief, Elspeth tried to amuse Pixie with a piece of ribbon and eventually the little animal curled up on her lap and went to sleep.
In a few minutes Valerian apologized for being “poor company” and pointed out the numerous ocean-going barges and quite large vessels that were making their way to and from the estuary. He drew their attention also to the chalk cliffs and the numerous churches with which he told them Normandy abounded. Elspeth and Freda were intrigued by the differing architecture of the structures they passed, their comments amusing Valerian until the coach turned onto a lane lined with poplars. Valerian stiffened, and Elspeth watched him uneasily. He let the window down, and as Skye rode alongside, called, “Why do we turn off? More varmints?”
“Not that we’ve seen. The coachman wants to change teams and knows of a fine inn about half a league ahead.” Skye bent his
head and peered in at Elspeth. “How do you go on, Ellie? This is tiresome for you.”
“Nonsense,” snapped Valerian. “Miss Elspeth’s concern is for her brother and with luck, we’ll free him before nightfall!”
Skye gave him a hard look.
Elspeth called, “But—thank you, Jo—!” The name was cut short as Valerian jerked the window closed again.
“Joe,” he muttered, “Is that how you call him?”
“You know perfectly well what I call him. And you hurt yourself when you so rudely slammed the window in his face. Which serves you right.”
“He’s supposed to be keeping watch for rank riders, highwaymen, Mohocks, or their ilk—not slobbering over you. Disgusting!”
“’Tis odd,” said Elspeth demurely, “but I’d not describe Lieutenant Skye’s demeanour toward me as either slobbering or disgusting.”
He growled, “You will if fifty Mohocks take us by surprise!”
At this point Pixie woke up and wailed again.
Valerian said, “Can’t you keep that brute quiet? She’s disturbing poor Beck.”
In fact, Freda had dozed off and was snoring softly.
Elspeth picked the kitten up and cuddled her. “She’s pining for your father, poor little dear.”
Incredulous, he said, “Pining for—If ever I heard such fustian! She’s a cat, ma’am! A dog may pine. A cat don’t give a button! They’re aloof creatures, I give ’em credit for that.”
“She was devoted to Sir Simon. She misses him.”
“Likely because my father pampered her and would persist in having her by him all the time. She amused him.”
“Whereas you prefer dogs.”
“Infinitely!”
“Then how very kind it was of you to find her for him. Oh, never look so taken aback. Sir Simon told me you brought her to keep him company. In which case, you must take some responsibility for the little girl.”
“Little girl?”
“Well, she’s not a boy cat, is she?”
The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy Page 16
