Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns

by Patricia Veryan

  'Sixty-five, apparently." She flung out an arm to bar the door. "Oh, no, you shan't escape, sir! Papa, I believe we have caught Major Diccon with his fingers in the ginger jar!"

  Sir Lionel was much shocked, and leaning forward in his chair, protested, "That's not an accusation to be made lightly, Marietta!"

  'You shall be the judge," she decreed. "And pending the verdict the accused may not leave the court-room! Sit—down— sir!'

  She advanced determinedly, and Diccon retreated and half-fell into a chair while declaring that he knew nothing of Chinese Funds.

  'It is what we call the ready cash we keep in our Chinese ginger jar," she said. "The case is, Papa, that I tallied up the funds last night and arrived at a total of forty-two guineas. I took out twelve with which to shop and pay some bills today. But when I put back the change just now, the jar was much heavier. It now holds sixty-five guineas, twopence three farthings!"

  Sir Lionel frowned. "I really see no cause to discuss such matters in front of our guest. Perhaps your aunt—"

  ''Aunty Dova had borrowed ten shillings, not added a groat. So—unless you made a deposit, Papa… ?"

  He shook his head, and they both turned and looked at the accused.

  Diccon said, "This is ridiculous. How could I know of your secret vault?"

  'Because you move like a shadow," said Marietta, "and likely saw one of us open the jar at some time or other."

  'By Gad, sir," exclaimed Sir Lionel. "If you fancy we charge our guests for their accommodations, I don't scruple to say I am affronted!"

  'I think I am the one to be affronted," said Diccon, rallying. "You accuse and judge me with not a shred of proof. Doubtless Miss Marietta was tired when she took her reckoning last night and made a small error. I will tell you that I do not make a habit of spying on my friends, nor do I interfere in their financial matters. However, you remind me of an obligation. I must pay the apothecary for his services, and will insist that you give me his reckoning."

  This resulted in a heated argument that was terminated when Mrs. Cordova came and called them to luncheon. Not in the least anxious to question such a fortuitous windfall, Sir Lionel at once made a show of formally escorting his sister-in-law to the dining room. Diccon lost no time in emulating his example and offered his arm to Marietta. Taking it, she looked up at him. His eyes slid away from hers, guiltily. She leaned nearer and said with a twinkle, "I think you are very sly, Major. No wonder you were in such a hurry to escape us."

  Relieved, he answered, "Unfortunately, I really must leave, Miss Warrington. You have been more than good, but I've business—er, matters to be dealt with. I—er, I was rather hoping I might tempt you to ride down to the manor with me."

  She glanced out of the window. They were already well into autumn; there would not be many more of these golden afternoons. "I wish I could," she said as they walked into the corridor. "But I was out all the morning, and there is so much mending waiting to be done."

  ''And lots of grey and rainy days in which to accomplish it," he argued. "Please come. You must grant me a favour, you know, since you so cruelly accused me of playing—er, the spy."

  She glanced up at him in mild surprise. He was evidently becoming more at ease with her and his pale eyes were suddenly lit with sparkling glints of laughter. Belatedly, it occurred to her that he was a very attractive man. "If I owe you anything, sir," she said, "it is my thanks for your patience with Arthur. I know bachelor gentlemen do not much care to be pestered by small boys."

  ''Very true. That rascal is rapidly ruining my reputation in the district! So you see, ma'am, you have no choice. You must protect me from his cunning blandishments, for I am putty in his hands!"

  She laughed. "I will come on one condition—that you permit me to ride your magnificent grey."

  Watching them from the dining room, Mrs. Cordova enquired, "Do you two mean to join us today?"

  Orpheus balked at the unfamiliar side-saddle, and, evidently feeling that he had been sufficiently put upon today, made a bared-teeth grab at Diccon's hand. His reward was a sharp rap on the nose and a reprimand in the tone that he knew meant business. However, Diccon began to unbuckle the girths and said apologetically that he should never have entertained the notion that the stallion could be ridden by a lady.

  Indignant, Marietta protested, "But you agreed! Besides, I am not an inexperienced rider. Come, sir, you must give me the benefit of the doubt!"

  Diccon hesitated, Marietta coaxed, and, unable to resist, he at length tossed her into the saddle while Bridger kept a firm hand on the bit.

  As if chastened, Orpheus started off meekly, and they rode side-by-side down the slope, Diccon keeping his borrowed mare close to the stallion, ready to intervene if the different balance angered the high-strung animal.

  The meadow grasses tossed to a light breeze, the air was warm, and beyond Lanterns the blue waters of the Channel glittered as if spread with diamonds.

  Marietta exclaimed happily, "What a perfect afternoon!"

  ''Perfect, indeed," agreed Diccon, watching her. An enchanting smile was turned to him. He thought, 'Lord, but she's a lovely little thing!' and managed to say more or less sensibly, "But you would rather be in Town, I think?"

  ''Sometimes, yes. I miss the home where I was born, the social whirl, our friends." Her smile became rueful. "Rather more than some miss me, I fear. There is something to be said for being reduced to—to a lower standard of living. Only your real friends still come to call."

  ''And the false friends you are better off without. Were you deeply disillusioned, ma'am?"

  ''In a few instances. For the rest, I was fairly sure of the reaction I could expect. Oh, dear! Does that sound dreadfully harsh and cynical?"

  He shrugged. "Sensible, rather. To put humanity on a pedestal is to invite disaster."

  ''Yes. We all have our failings. And however we try to hide them, I think most people are not deceived." She added with a chuckle, "I could wish they were!"

  ''On the other hand, some people have so many good points that without a few failings they'd be nigh unbearable."

  She glanced at him in time to see him turning his head away. "I suppose you think I was fishing for that compliment," she said mischievously.

  ''Were you? My apologies. In point of fact, I was referring to myself."

  That won a laugh. She said, "It certainly might apply to your horse, sir. He has a silken gait. My own favourite mount—" She broke off, suffering a pang as she thought of her loved little white mare.

  ''You had to leave her in Town, did you?" he asked, eager to chase the shadow from her eyes. "Shall you try to buy her back when you return?"

  Marietta stared at him.

  He said innocently, "Well, you do plan to restore your fortunes, do you not?"

  ''Do you mean by wedding one of the fabulously rich princes and potentates lining up before my father's front door?"

  ''Just so. Do but ally your beauty to a positive outlook and you will be a wealthy young matron in no time, comfortably restored to a Curzon Street palace, and a position as leader of London Society."

  ''What a picture you paint!" she said merrily. "Thank you for it. That would answer my father's dream, Fanny could have a proper London Season, and I could meet all my friends again."

  ''Is that what you would like?"

  Was it what she would like? She pondered for a moment, and he watched her and marvelled at how charming was the change from gaiety to gravity.

  She said then, "For my family—yes. But—do you know, I would miss this place. It is so peaceful and beautiful. Even poor old Lanterns."

  ''You're not repelled by the manor, then?"

  ''No, indeed. I feel sure it was once a happy home. Though I'll own I'd not dare be alone there. Even in the daylight. How can you be so brave as to stay after dark?"

  His lips quirked. "Nerves of steel. Poor Mr. Fox shares your fears though, and demands that I hold his hoof once the sun goes down."

  ''No, be seri
ous. Have you never witnessed strange lights at night time? Or seen the—the—"

  ''The ghosts? Oh, yes."

  ''Good gracious! Or are you teasing again? There have been so many stories and Aunty Dova says there must be some fire behind all that smoke."

  ''I expect she does." He pursed his lips. "I haven't told anyone this, Miss Marietta, but there is a knight in black armour who trots along the corridors at midnight, howling, and slicing about him with a great war axe, and—"

  ''I wouldn't think a knight in full armour, carrying a war axe, could 'trot' anywhere without his horse," she put in, her eyes mirthful.

  ''Ah, but ghostly axes likely don't weigh much. And besides, if what one reads about the times is truth, they were a sturdy lot."

  ''Hmm. Why does he howl and slice about?"

  ''From what I can gather his admired lady ran off with a wandering minstrel, and the knight longed to—er, do him in."

  ''If the knight was so bloody-minded, she probably made a wise choice."

  ''More likely she regretted it. Life with a wandering minstrel must have had its drawbacks."

  ''Unless she was a music-lover."

  He looked at her sharply. "Are you, ma'am?"

  ''Oh, yes. Indeed I am! Isn't everybody?"

  A grim expression drove the smile from his eyes. He said a clipped, "No, Miss Warrington. Most decidedly not!"

  They had by now reached the courtyard at Lanterns. Diccon dismounted, looped the reins over a post, and reached up to lift Marietta down.

  As she leaned to him, Orpheus, who had endured to that moment, lost his temper and shot stiff-legged into the air.

  Marietta became the second Warrington to be hurled from the stallion's back. She gave a shocked cry, but then was caught and held firmly. "Thank heaven!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "You… were…" The words faded. His arms crushed her close. His head was bent above her. She knew now what Fanny had meant by her remark that when he looked at her his eyes were far from cold, for they glowed as if lit with silver flame. She was neither afraid nor angry. That scorching light was replaced by a deep tenderness. For a breathless moment she thought he was going to declare himself. Instead, his eyes became veiled. He set her down, and asked with quiet courtesy if she was all right. "I should never have let you ride the silly brute."

  ''I enjoyed every moment," she argued, shaken, but trying to match his poised control. "Still, I am very glad you were so quick to catch me, Major. No, do not unsaddle him. I cannot stay."

  ''I know. It was good of you to come. But you will ride the mare home, ma'am."

  There was a set to his jaw that told her it would be pointless to object. Not that she intended to do so. In fact, his sternly protective air brought her an odd sense of comfort. This man guarded those he cherished. She experienced a fleeting sense of envy for the lady who would become his wife.

  He exchanged the saddles with swift, practised hands and asked if she would care for a cup of tea or a glass of ratafia before starting back. "I could bring it out to you," he added, bowing to the proprieties.

  Curious, she asked, "Do you really have ratafia?"

  His eyes danced but he replied gravely, "Let us say I could lay my hands on some."

  ''Oh, how silly of me! I quite forgot your—er, trade."

  He put a finger on his lips. "Careful, Miss Warrington. The walls have ears and you'd not want— What is it?"

  Gazing at the house she felt chilled and said, "I would have sworn… Oh, I expect I am being silly, but—I am sure someone was watching us from that upstairs window!"

  He scanned the house narrowly. "Did he wear armour, ma'am?"

  ''No, and I wish you will not make light of it. I saw him!"

  ''Then it is likely just some poor Waterloo veteran starving politely. Now, if you will mount up, Miss Warrington, I—"

  ''I shall do no such thing! What if it is a—a thief, or a real highwayman? No, do not be brave and noble. I know you mean to investigate, and I'll not leave until you're sure all is well."

  He looked down at her with the whimsical half-smile that she was coming to like so well. "I'll have your promise," he said, "that if you should hear an uproar, or if I'm not back in five minutes, you will ride ventre à terre for the dower house."

  She nodded, and watched as he avoided the drawbridge, sprinting lightly across the moat to the main entrance. He paused there for a second. A pistol, long and gleaming, appeared in one hand. The door opened, and he seemed to melt into the inner shadows. It occurred to her that he'd made not a sound.

  The instant he entered the house, Diccon sensed that someone was there. It was an instinct that had served him well in the past and that he never ignored. He stood behind the door, unmoving, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. If there was more than one intruder, which was very likely, they must not be in this room, or they'd have attacked when he was silhouetted against the light. He drifted across the hall to the main staircase, alert, tense, one finger hovering over the hair trigger of the pistol.

  The faintest creak.

  He stood motionless, looking up.

  Someone was moving along the balcony. He shouldn't have let Marietta come here. If this intruder was Ti Chiu… ! He glanced swiftly behind him, but the entrance hall was empty.

  Aiming steadily, he called, "One more step and I fire!"

  The response was immediate and indignant. "Hoot, toot! And is this the thanks I get for being tossed aboot on that miserrrrable ship forever and a day?"

  ''Mac!" Diccon released the hammer with respectful caution and ran up the stairs to grip the hand of his valet/groom/ general factotum. "Welcome back! Tell me quickly, is it done? Nobody knows?"

  ''Aye, 'tis as ye wished, though in a court o'law I'll swear I had nae hand in the wicked business, ye ken?"

  ''I know, you old curmudgeon. And I do thank you! Man alive, but I'm glad you're home at last!"

  ''Home is it?" grumbled the Scot. "A fine home this is! Are ye aware ye've had callers? When I came in the kitchen door, a body ran oot the front. And y'r pairsonal belongings hae been rummaged and mauled aboot something shameful! Come and see fer yer ain self."

  Accompanying him, Diccon muttered frowningly, "Likely just a tramp."

  ''Hah!" MacDougall opened the door to the vast bedchamber. Light flooded in at the windows, revealing the chaos wrought by ruthless hands. "Dinna be telling me ye left it in this state," said the Scot, and turning to face his employer in the bright room, he gasped, "Whisht mon! Ye're something changed!"

  ''Oh—a slight accident, but—"

  ''I'm thinking there's more changed than that! I've nae seen that look in y'r eyes since—"

  ''Well never mind that," said Diccon, his face rather red, "Let's see what the varmint made off with, and you can tell me about Italy. But be quick. There's a lady waiting."

  ''Is there then?" said his man smugly. "I'd a wee bit thought there might be!"

  The moments dragged past and with each one Marietta became more tense and apprehensive. Surely, five minutes had gone by?

  There had been no uproar, in fact she'd heard nothing in the least ominous, yet the very silence seemed to throb with menace. She kept her eyes fixed on that great front door. It still stood partly open, the afternoon sunlight slanting in to paint a bright bar across the inner darkness. He should be back by now. If all was well he'd not leave her standing here for so long, worrying. She began to creep forward, as if drawn to that open door yet ready at the least sign or sound of danger to run, as she'd promised.

  But when the sound came she halted and stood very still, transfixed. It was the last sound she would have expected; the mellow strains of a violin, masterfully played. Astonished, she began to move forward again, and the music grew louder, swelling into a soaring and proud melody. She was so intrigued that she paid no attention to the hoofbeats until they were directly behind her. With a yelp of fright, she whirled around.

  Orpheus tossed his head at her and walked on past, ears forward, hooves thu
dding hollowly on the ironbound planks of the drawbridge.

  Marietta drew a sobbing breath of relief and closed her eyes for an instant, a hand pressed to her galloping heart. When she looked up, the big grey was half-way up the steps, peering into the hall. She hurried forward as the melody rose to a crescendo and died away. Diccon came to the door, replacing a violin in its case and watching her with a diffident smile.

  She clapped her hands with genuine admiration, and he bowed, then patted the grey's neck as the big horse nuzzled him. "I told you he follows a tune," he said, propping the violin case against the wall.

  ''So you did! And how splendidly you play, Major! When did you learn such skills? And why did you never mention it? And how could you have been so horrid as to leave me worrying here all this time without so much as calling to me that everything was all right?" Anxious again, she asked, "It is—isn't it?"

  He took up Orpheus' reins and they began to follow the moat along the north wing. "To answer your last question first, Miss Warrington, you were perfectly right. There was someone inside the house."

  ''And you stayed to chat, did you? With whom, pray? The lady?"

  She had a brief impression of utter stillness, then he said, "Actually, she is rather difficult to converse with, since she carries her head in a bucket. However—"

  ''Wretch!" she said with her lilting laugh. "Next you will say you've had a chat with Saladin!"

  ''Oh, several chats. He won't tell me where it is, if that's what you mean. The fellow's a real marplot."

  ''Then you know the legend of the jewelled picture?"

  ''But of course. Why do you suppose I stay here?"

  ''Well, to say truth, I thought it was handy to the beach and your free-trading friends. Now, will you answer my other questions, or do you mean to fob me off on that subject also?"

  He smiled at her use of the cant term. "My grandfather was an accomplished violinist. He began to teach me when I was three years old."

  ''Surely that was very early. Was it hard for you?"

  ''No. It was my greatest joy. Grandpapa had a small violin made for me. In fact I still have it, just in case someday I may teach my own son—" He broke off abruptly, the steely look returning to his eyes.