Elspeth paled and gasped a distressed “Oh, surely not! If you would but listen to—”
“You will have your chance to make a statement, Miss Clayton. As Mr. Valerian has said, we must not detain you. I have already called up a coach and you will be conveyed home directly.”
“Very good,” said Valerian.
“Stuff and nonsense,” said Elspeth. “I go nowhere, Major, until I am satisfied that Lieutenant Skye is being treated fairly!”
“Give me strength,” muttered Valerian, irked. “Order your sister to go home, Clayton!”
His lips twitching, Clayton said mildly, “Go home, Elspeth.”
“Do not imagine I’m unwilling,” she answered. “We are all very tired, Major Swift. My brother has been handled cruelly and is still weakened; Mr. Valerian took a nasty wound and is in a deal of pain, though he’ll not admit it; Lieutenant Skye was brutally beaten, and Mr. Turner—”
“Such a litany of disaster,” said the Major, shaking his head sympathetically. “The more reason, ma’am, for you to obey your brother and allow us to take you to Madame Colbert’s home.” His voice rose. “Sergeant…!”
The large dragoon marched into the room, shook the floor as he sprang to attention and barked, “Sir!”
“Escort Miss Clayton to the home of Madame Colbert on South Audley Street!”
Elspeth drew back.
The sergeant stamped towards her.
“Take one more step,” she warned, “and I shall scream at the top of my lungs all the way to the carriage!”
The big dragoon quailed and cast a terrified look at his Major.
Valerian gave a hoot of laughter. “She’ll do it, too,” he declared. “Never cross a lady in love, Swift! Only think of the picture you’ll paint for the people in the street!”
Elspeth turned her head and stared at him.
Swift said in a near purr, “I was thinking more along the lines of having Miss Clayton confined to a cell, or gagged and—”
Valerian said as softly, “Do—not—dare…”
* * *
In years to come Elspeth would remember the two hours that followed as an unending nightmare. They were conducted to a bleak and dim room wherein a few candles cast light on their various faces so they seemed to loom against a spectrally dark background.
Major Swift commenced what he called an “interview,” but which Elspeth considered to be a merciless inquisition. Lieutenant Skye was required to stand as questions were hurled at him in an endless stream. Time after time he offered his version of the train of events and time after time Swift would repeat his question in a slightly different way, then insist that the answer differed from that given previously. Occasionally, one or other of the rest of them was “interviewed,” and although Elspeth was spared, Freda was reduced to tears when her replies were judged “contradictory.”
Infuriated, Elspeth’s protests were stilled when Valerian bent to her ear and murmured, “You would have this, ma’am. Take care; Swift is an extreme dangerous man. The more you antagonize him the harder it will be for Skye!”
It was all too clear that Skye was tiring and that his defense was not impressing the Major or the two other officers who had entered and stood in the shadows behind them.
Elspeth was startled when a harsh voice from the back of the room exclaimed, “For the love of God, sir! You must have more sensible reasons than you have offered for disregarding your orders! If the woman entrapped you—say so!”
‘Joel’s horrid papa!’ she thought, her heart sinking. It was an ominous development. She was well aware that Colonel Sir Walter Skye had always intimidated his son and his presence here could only add to Joel’s misery.
Skye had jerked around at the sound of his father’s voice. He looked strained and haggard, but he said firmly, “If by ‘the woman’ you refer to Miss Clayton, sir, there was no attempt at entrapment. Her brother, to whom she is devoted, was held by force at the chateau of—”
He was interrupted by a muffled groan, and Valerian sank to his knees and bowed forward, clutching his injured arm.
Dismayed, Elspeth exclaimed, “Oh, my heavens!” And bending over him, she said angrily, “Now see what you have done by forcing a wounded gentleman to endure this inquisition!”
Swift looked momentarily alarmed and motioned to the sergeant to pull up a chair, Herbert half-lifted his cousin into it and Valerian slumped weakly, murmuring apologies for being “such a Milquetoast.”
“You are nothing of the sort,” stormed Elspeth. “Your wound is badly inflamed and should have had treatment long since! Only look how pale he is become, Major Swift. You should be ashamed! I insist that you have Mr. Valerian conveyed to his flat, where his physician can attend him!”
Colonel Skye barked, “Certainly not! Valerian was the instigator of this conspiracy as well you know, Swift! He is the one whose scheming resulted in your quarry slipping through your fingers! You will be wise to have him clapped up at—”
Herbert threw his arm around his cousin as Valerian sagged in the chair clearly near complete collapse. “Fiend seize it,” exclaimed Herbert in an unprecedented outburst of wrath. “Your pardon, ladies, but this is past permission! My cousin’s wound is bleeding again! I demand—”
“What you demand pays no toll,” roared Colonel Skye. “Valerian is as good as a traitor, and must be held accountable for—”
He had gone too far, and resenting this usurpation of his authority, Major Swift interrupted harshly, “I think, Colonel, that I am quite aware of Mr. Valerian’s schemes, but I hope the British Army has not sunk to such a level of barbarism as to refuse aid to a wounded gentleman!” Ignoring the Colonel’s purpling countenance and menacing glare, he said, “If Mr. Valerian will give me his word of honour to hold himself available for questioning and not leave the City…”
Valerian lifted his left hand in a weak gesture of acquiescence and said faintly, “You … have my word … Major.”
“In that case,” said Swift, “call up a coach, Sergeant. You are free to take him to his home, Mr. Turner.”
Herbert helped his cousin to stand and Elspeth moved closer to peer into the stricken man’s drawn face and asked anxiously, “Will you be all right, Gervaise? I’ll call on you as soon as—”
Valerian lifted his drooping head and looked squarely at her. “Not at all the thing, ma’am,” he muttered, with cutting sarcasm. “My debt to you is paid in full, I believe you will agree. I bid you farewell and wish you a happy future unencumbered by—Deplorable Dandies.”
Pale and stunned, she stepped back. Herbert avoided her eyes and supported his cousin’s uncertain progress from the room.
Colonel Skye snarled, “If I do not ask the impossible, perhaps we may now try to come at the truth of this farrago of nonsense!”
“If you care to take a seat, Colonel,” said Swift icily, “I will pursue my investigation—without further interruption! By all means be seated, Miss Clayton. Now, if I understand you, Lieutenant Skye, you were attempting to apprehend Sir Simon Valerian aboard the packet—um,” he consulted his notes, “the Sea Lassie, when you were attacked by his son and nephew. You claim you had not laid eyes on Sir Simon at this point…”
On and on it went. Elspeth thought wearily that they had already gone all over this, but she was no longer afraid of the “very dangerous” Major Joshua Swift. She was instead prey to an aching grief. Gervaise had spoken to her with such biting scorn—he had as well have struck her. He had looked terribly ill and worn, yet he’d made not the least attempt to persuade her to accompany him. Not that she could have done so, of course; not and abandon Joel to face this terrible ordeal alone. But Gervaise should have known how deeply she was indebted to this dear and faithful friend who had risked his career, his very life, to help save her beloved brother. She’d been so sure Gervaise had understood, and had sensed how much her feelings towards the Deplorable Dandy had changed. She’d even fancied that of late a tenderness had crept into those very expressi
ve grey eyes when they rested on her. That he might even … But she’d been mistaken, quite mistaken. She could hear again the contempt in his voice when he’d said so softly, so acidly, “My debt to you is paid in full … I bid you farewell … and wish you a happy future unencumbered by Deplorable Dandies.”
Suddenly unable to see clearly, she blinked away scalding tears. She had been a fool. He’d only used her to help his father escape. At least he hadn’t deserted her then, but like an honourable man had kept his promise and rescued Vance. Whatever else, she must always be grateful for that. But a door she’d thought open had been slammed in her face. His cold “farewell” had clearly said that it was over now, and whatever tendre he might have felt towards her had been a transitory thing and was also over. It was his right, certainly, and—
Vance’s hand closed over hers and he scanned her face anxiously.
Major Swift thundered, “I shall ask you again, Miss Clayton. I find it extraordinarily difficult to comprehend that, however clever the disguise, any woman would have failed to realise that the ‘lady’ she was hired to assist on the voyage was actually a man; probably Sir Simon Valerian, a traitorous fugitive! Exactly how long did it take you, ma’am?”
‘What, again?’ she thought wearily. “Major, I have answered that question at least three times before. I cannot think—”
“That is all too apparent, ma’am!” interrupted Colonel Skye explosively. “’Pon my soul, but I cannot think why a lady of your birth and breeding should—”
“Be so good as to allow Miss Clayton to answer my question, sir,” snapped Swift, reddening. “If you persist in interfering with my investigation—”
“D’ye call this an investigation?” roared the Colonel. “I’d rather describe it as a molly-coddling fiasco, not worthy of the name!”
“Whereas I would describe it as a well-intentioned but no longer necessary interrogation.”
At that quiet voice all heads turned to the door, which had opened unnoticed by the occupants of the tense room.
Two gentlemen stood there.
The younger of them was tall and good-looking, with reddish-brown hair and a pale face scarred by a sabre cut, at the sight of whom Elspeth’s heart gave a leap and she whispered a joyous “Nicholas!”
The other man was older, frail-appearing and leaning on a cane, but with firm, thin lips, hard eyes and an undeniable air of authority, at the sight of whom Joel Skye’s heart also gave a leap and he gasped disbelievingly, “Uncle Clifford?”
Swift and Colonel Skye both came to their feet.
Swift bowed. “Your lordship!”
The Colonel’s bow was little more than a nod. “Thought you was confined to your bed, Hayes.”
Lord Clifford Hayes, until recently a director of the mighty East India Company, answered Elspeth’s curtsy with a graceful bow, shrugged and said mildly, “As you see, your brother-in-law is still ambulatory, Walter. Your servant, ma’am. Good day t’you, Swift. Hello, Joel. I gather you have offended. Are you still browbeating the boy because he chose Navy instead of Army, Walter?”
Colonel Skye’s jaws champed. He practically spat out the words, “My son chose also to disobey orders. We’ve always been aware he is your favourite in the family, so perhaps you countenance such behaviour. I do not!”
His lordship gestured, and Nicholas Drew pulled over a chair for him. Sinking into it with a faint sigh of relief, Hayes said, “What you or I, or Swift here countenance has little to say to the matter.”
Colonel Skye scowled, but before he could comment Lord Hayes added blandly, “Oh—forgive me, I believe you and your brother know this rascally fellow, Miss Clayton, but perhaps the gentlemen are not acquainted with Mr. Nicholas Drew.”
“I certainly know the bounder,” said Vance Clayton, crossing to exchange a warm handshake with Drew.
“How glad I am to see you home safe,” said Drew, adding a rather stern “And you also, Miss Elspeth.”
Sensing that the atmosphere in the room had changed markedly, Elspeth dropped a polite curtsy and Drew grinned and bowed an equally polite response.
Swift grunted, “We have met, my lord.”
“Know of him,” acknowledged the Colonel with obvious reluctance. “Though what the devil he has to do with this escapes me.”
“No doubt,” agreed his brother-in-law. “It escapes me, on the other hand, why your presence here is either needed or desired, my dear Walter.”
Elspeth’s tired eyes brightened.
Joel Skye grinned faintly.
Major Swift put a hand across his lips.
His face taking on a purple hue, the Colonel snarled, “I might say the same of you, sir! This is a military matter! And I—”
“Are retired, I believe.” His lordship raised a thin hand and added sweetly, “I fancy you would say that I also am retired. You would, to an extent, be mistaken, Walter. Really, you must not write me off yet. In certain—ah, diplomatic matters His Majesty still relies on my—er, expertise.”
Quick to adjust to the shift in the balance of power, Major Swift said, “I’m very sure his confidence is well placed, my lord. Was—er, that what you implied when you said what the Colonel or I countenanced had little to say to this matter?”
“You have a quick ear, Major,” said his lordship with a faint smile.
“Well, I thought it a rude remark,” blustered the Colonel, “and should like it explained, if y’please.”
“But of course. I am only too happy to explain matters if it will help your understanding.” Lord Hayes glanced around the room and, with an eye on the sergeant who stood at attention beside the door, murmured, “However, this is a sensitive matter, Swift.”
The Major asked that the sergeant escort Miss Beck to a waiting room where she could be comfortable, after which he should remain on guard outside this office.
As the door closed behind them, his lordship said, “I am not at liberty to go into detail. I presume you have already had a report from Mr. Vance Clayton, Major?”
Swift’s colour was heightened. He said uneasily, “My first concern was with the failed apprehension of a traitor, sir. Sir Simon Valerian by name.”
“What a pity.” Lord Hayes tapped the handle of his cane against his pursed lips, then murmured, “Have you then obtained evidence of Sir Simon’s treasonable activities? I had thought the gentleman was presently residing with his wife in Italy.”
“To the contrary, my lord, I have personal knowledge that Sir Simon conspired to aid several Jacobite rebels to escape to France,” rasped Major Swift defensively.
“And this, ah, ‘personal knowledge’ of yours can be substantiated and presented in a court of law?” murmured his lordship. Swift hesitated and Lord Hayes leaned forward and, in a voice of ice, snapped, “In other words, Major, have you absolute proof, or reliable witnesses who will swear to Sir Simon’s involvement in treasonable activities? Or is it all so much inadmissable rumour and hearsay, which could be manufactured and spread about by a jealous relative with an axe to grind, or some employee who bears the gentleman a grudge?”
“The point is,” growled Colonel Skye, “that instead of apprehending him, as ordered, your nephew assisted him to escape!”
“Walter, Walter, you mistake it, as usual, I fear,” said his lordship, as cool as the Colonel was heated. “The point is that His Majesty was advised that Vance Clayton carried a letter from a certain—um, lady of the Court of Versailles. A letter of great interest in diplomatic circles. Unhappily, Mr. Clayton was wounded and held captive on the estate of an—um, ambitious nobleman of France. It was feared that Mr. Clayton would be forced to reveal the location of this letter, which could then be used to create great mischief internationally. Thanks to Mr. Clayton’s physical endurance and the efforts of Gervaise Valerian and an intrepid group of others, including my nephew, Mr. Clayton was rescued and can now safely divulge the location of this vital document.” He paused and turned enquiringly to Vance Clayton.
Moving forwa
rd, Vance said, “When I realised I was being hunted down I was able to send it to my sister in Wales for safe keeping, not knowing Ellie had removed to London, sir. No doubt my mama is holding it for her. However, I swore an oath to—er, to the French lady who hired my services. I am still bound by that oath, you will understand. I must deliver it as instructed.”
His lordship smiled. “I appreciate your sense of honour, Mr. Clayton. Have no fears. My agents have already been in touch with the lady, and she gives her full permission for you to give her letter into my hands.” He chuckled as Clayton hesitated. “You are apprehensive I see. Very good. Here—” He held out a folded letter. “You recognize your employer’s hand, I feel sure.”
Clayton scanned the note swiftly, then looked up and said a clearly relieved “Thank you for your patience, my lord. Yes, I am absolved of any further responsibility.”
Lord Hayes glanced to Major Swift. “I suggest a troop, Major. At the double!”
The Major nodded and started to the door.
“Also,” said his lordship, “it is his Majesty’s wish that in the absence of verifiable evidence to the contrary, the matter of Sir Simon Valerian’s being judged a traitor be at once dismissed. Therefore, no charges are to be pressed ’gainst any of these good people. In truth, we owe them instead a great debt of gratitude!”
20
“How glad I am that you enjoyed such a delightful visit with your friend.” Madame Colbert rustled into the parlour of her cosy London house and beamed at her godchild, who was sitting by the fire and rather listlessly scanning the London Gazette. “Do but listen to that wind! ‘The Tides of March,’ I think those winds are called, or some such thing. Why learned professors or philatelists or whatever they are should name winds ‘tides’ I cannot fathom. Perhaps ’tis because, like tides, winds can quite ruin one’s coiffure, to say nothing of blowing smoke down the chimney, horrid things! Though tides do not come down chimneys, of course. I am only sorry I was from home when you arrived yesterday, my love. But how fortunate it is that you encountered your dear brother, for, to tell the truth I was afraid I may have been remiss in my duties to have allowed you to go off to those friends of yours when I really knew practically nothing of them! Still, one can always rely on Coachman Abraham, and your abigail, however pert, is clearly devoted to you, so I was confident nothing untoward would befall you.”
The Riddle of the Deplorable Dandy Page 28
