The Riddle of the Lost Lover

by Patricia Veryan

  “And it is Pierre to whom I am very deeply indebted,” said Vespa, bowing to him.

  “Such a terrifying experience for a gentle lady,” murmured the chevalier, who was still not a little shocked by such behaviour. “I am very sure my dear wife would have swooned away.”

  Consuela stared at him. “She would? But it was a great adventure. Though, I’ll admit I was a little bit afraid. Just now and then, you know. And I am very glad that Jack has come and everything turned out so nicely.”

  “Oh, are you?” said Vespa, feigning indignation. “I take it that you care not a button that I have knocked down an innocent gentleman!”

  “Not the tiniest button,” agreed Consuela, her eyes sparkling at him.

  “And I must question the innocence of that particular gentleman,” said de Coligny. “He has the reputation most unsavoury.”

  “Yes, indeed.” Having kept her most exciting piece of news to the end, Consuela said, “And now you must listen closely, Jack, for I have learned something of the greatest importance, that you will be very happy to know.”

  He smiled at her tenderly. “I can think of nothing so important as to know that you are safe, my little Signorina.”

  For a moment there was silence as they exchanged glances that betrayed their love with more eloquence than mere words could have done.

  Amused, the chevalier coughed politely behind his hand.

  Vespa started and flushed with embarrassment.

  Consuela said, “Oh, dear! Now what was I saying?”

  “It cannot have been so very important if you’ve already forgot,” said Pierre, bored, and went out onto the deck.

  “But it is!” said Consuela. “Jack—Lord Kincraig is here! In Brittany! That’s why Imre Monteil came. He means to find him!”

  “What?” He said incredulously, “But are you quite sure? Manderville heard that he was gone to Suffolk.”

  “No, no! I was hiding in the coach when the messenger brought the news to Monteil! He said the ‘Crazy Carpet Collector’ had been near Rennes last week, and Monteil was very pleased! Isn’t it wonderful that we’ve found him?”

  “That you’ve found him, clever girl! And it’s wonderful indeed, if—”

  “So here you are!” Paige Manderville stepped into the cabin and closed the door quickly.

  “Yes.” Vespa stood, his mind a whirl of excitement and new hope. “Has Imre Monteil reported us to the authorities?”

  “Don’t think he found any to report to! He seems to think you’ve gone inland, and the silly clunch has taken his monstrous coachman and gone haring off after you. Jolly good luck to him! I’ve arranged with Willy Leggett for our passage home. I fancy you’ll want to go ashore, de Coligny?”

  The chevalier confirmed this, and Vespa also declared his intention of going ashore.

  “Consuela has been telling me how she came to be in Monteil’s coach,” he explained, responding to his friend’s astounded expression.

  “The man is a scoundrel, no doubt of it,” said Manderville. “But to follow and demand satisfaction would be the height of folly, dear old boy.”

  “I’ve no least intention of doing either. Though, I suppose he is entitled to a meeting. I did knock him down, after all.”

  “Stuff! You’d every right to knock him down. But if you don’t mean to follow the villain, why do you wish to go ashore? Ain’t much of a place, so far as I can see. No offence intended, de Coligny, but there’s not much here outside of granite and sand and a lighthouse every few miles.”

  “There will be,” declared the chevalier. “We’ve plans to improve roads and transportation and to plant crops to enrich the soil. Soon, this will be a grand agricultural centre.”

  “And besides, I found out that Lord Kincraig is here,” put in Consuela. “Isn’t it marvellous?”

  Manderville gave a snort of derision. “Marvellous fustian! What on earth gave you that notion? Kincraig is in Suffolk—and likely even now preparing to hop over to Belgium. Someone’s been filling your ears with treacle, Consuela.”

  “No such thing!” she argued fiercely. “I heard a courier tell Imre Monteil that the ‘Crazy Carpet Man’ is in the vicinity of Rennes! It is your informant who is wrong, Paige Manderville!”

  “In which case,” said Vespa, “we’re closer than we’ve ever been, and I mean to lose no time in—”

  “In—what? Running your head straight under the nearest guillotine? You’re as bacon-brained as he is!” Exasperated, Manderville declared, “I tell you, Jack, Kincraig’s nowhere near Rennes!”

  Vespa said dubiously, “I suppose Monteil’s man could have erred.”

  De Coligny said in his courteous fashion, “Forgive that I interfere, but may I know why you would wish to find this poor mad gentleman?”

  Consuela and Manderville both looked to Vespa and were silent. He improvised quickly. “It is a family thing, Gaston. My mother believes this carpet collector may be her long-missing cousin, and she has charged me to find him.”

  “Ah,” de Coligny nodded sympathetically. “It is a sad task, that. I cannot help, for I know very little of him. From what I have heard of Imre Monteil, his people would not dare to bring him false reports. But Lieutenant Manderville speaks truly, Jacques. Even had you the means, to venture into France would be to write your death-warrant.”

  “That does not appear to weigh with Lord Kincraig,” said Vespa.

  “No—because he is, you will forgive, demented, and knowing this, people do not pay him heed. With you, it would be otherwise. And of a certainty you must take Miss Consuela out of harm’s way.”

  “Paige will escort her home for me, won’t you?” said Vespa, turning to his friend.

  “We both will take the lady home,” argued Manderville stubbornly.

  “You will do no such thing,” said Consuela, her little chin setting. “Whatever you say, Jack, I know what you mean to do, and I am not going to be packed off home to worry myself into a decline while you rush out and get yourself slain! No, and no!”

  His heart warmed by this declaration, Vespa said fondly, “You are very dear, but you must see that I can’t drag you about all over France, with not the whisper of a chaperone. Even if your lovely head were not forfeit, your reputation assuredly would be.”

  “Look about you, Captain John,” she commanded. “Where are the crowds? The leaders of the ton? The gabsters and gossips and rumour-mongers? Who will know I am here? Rennes is not very far away, and you certainly do not mean to journey through France wearing a scarlet uniform—”

  “Blue,” corrected Manderville absently.

  Consuela swept on, “—you will go in some sort of disguise, no? And I shall be your sister—or your affianced, or the Lady Consuela of Ottavio, whom you escort to the duchess, her Grandmama, and who would be an asset, rather than—”

  Someone pounded on the door and bellowed, “All ashore what’s goin’ ashore!”

  Vespa led Consuela to the door saying in a lowered voice, “My little love it will not serve. I have no coach, and may have to ride on a donkey if I can hire one, or travel many miles afoot. To be always responsible for your precious self would be a constant worry at a time I’ll need to keep my wits about me. You must allow Paige to take you home so that I can know you’ll be safe.”

  “’Fraid not,” said Manderville. “If you go, Jack, I’m going with you.”

  Consuela clapped her hands and did a little jig of delight.

  Dismayed, Vespa said, “But I can’t let her go back to England alone! That would really cause an uproar!”

  “I agree. So abandon this foolish plan and you’ll find I am in the right of it.”

  “It is not a foolish plan! Don’t listen to him, Jack,” said Consuela. “We will journey to Rennes, you and I, and find your carpet collector!”

  Vespa shook his head. “Whatever the case, your safety must be my first consideration,” he said firmly. “I’ll take you back to your Grandmama, and then come—”

  Sh
e gave a wail of mortification, and said she had been so eager to tell him her wonderful news and now that horrid Paige Manderville had spoiled everything.

  Manderville looked aghast and hurried off to advise Leggett the decision had been made.

  Pierre came back and with a disgusted look at Consuela said, “What? Crying again? What watering pots you ladies are!”

  The chevalier told his son to apologize at once, and then sent the boy off to call their coachman to come and get the luggage.

  The next few minutes were not pleasant for either of the remaining gentlemen. Consuela wept bitterly and lamented between sobs that she was now the cause of Jack losing Lord Kincraig. Vespa’s attempts to comfort her were to no avail, and he could not have been more relieved when de Coligny’s coachman and footman arrived to collect the portmanteaux.

  The chevalier murmured excusingly, “She has endured much, the little lady.”

  “She has indeed. There’s no end to her courage and resourcefulness, but I fear she is quite exhausted. It is as well she’ll be able to rest on the return passage.” Vespa took Consuela’s arm. “Come, my signorina. I’ll see what Leggett has arranged for your cabin, and you can say adieu to your new friends.”

  The wind was rising when they went on deck. Consuela clung sadly to Vespa’s arm, but thanked the chevalier for all his kindness to her, and waved goodbye to Pierre, who had followed the bear’s cage onto the quay and was leaping about “as though,” said his amused sire, “he went on springs!”

  Shaking de Coligny’s hand, Vespa said, “I shall never be able to thank you for taking such good care of her, Gaston. If ever—”

  He was interrupted by Consuela’s shriek. A chorus of shouts went up, interspersed by squeals and screams and a frenzied scattering of those on the quay.

  Consuela squeaked, “Pierre has let that terrible bear out of its cage!”

  “Mon Dieu!” gasped the chevalier, and ran for the gangplank.

  “Oh, heavens!” exclaimed Consuela. “Pierre thinks he can play with the creature!” Vespa was already limping rapidly after de Coligny, and she called, “Jack—do be careful!”

  Willy Leggett roared a frustrated, “I ain’t a’waiting, Captain Vespa! If we’re to catch the tide we must leave—now!”

  Vespa scarcely heard him; his entire concentration was on the distraught father who, in an effort not to further alarm the bear, was now walking smoothly towards his son.

  Pierre was prancing about in great excitement and advising the bear to “cut and run” while he had the chance. Misunderstanding, the bear reared up onto its hind legs. Beside the small figure of the child, the animal appeared enormous.

  De Coligny drew his pistol and aimed it.

  A shabby looking little man raced up and sprang in front of the chevalier. “What do you intend for my beast?” he demanded with wrathful indignation. “Your child, he release my poor Étudiant with much malice, and in return you seek to destroy the dear soul! My very livelihood! Such wickedness!”

  Scanning the bear, who stood at least six feet tall, Vespa thought he had seldom seen a less promising ‘student.’

  De Coligny said, “If that brute touches my son…!”

  The little man called, “Come to Papa, Étudiant, my dear. We will not suffer these evil men to harm you. Come!”

  The bear snorted and snuffled and threw its head about a few times, then dropped to all fours and ambled to its master, the long nose searching out a likely pocket. Something was withdrawn from the pocket and deposited into a front paw, that was, Vespa noted, well equipped with very long claws. ‘Papa’ said with some embarrassment, “He likes the currant buns. It is that he have only four teeth, you know.”

  The chevalier snatched up his son, and snarled something that abruptly dampened the child’s exuberance.

  Recalled to his own interests, Vespa glanced to the Saucy Maid.

  She was moving!

  “Oh, Lord!” he groaned, and rushing to the edge of the quay made a desperate leap for the vessel. He landed safely, but was unable to hold his balance on the rolling deck and fell to his knees.

  In his ears was a beloved voice, shrieking his name.

  From the quay!

  He clambered to his feet. Consuela, looking far from exhausted, stood beside the chevalier, waving frantically.

  Snarling English, French and Spanish curses, Vespa ran back a few yards and again launched himself across the widening band of dark water.

  He landed hard, wrenching his damaged leg painfully, which did not improve his temper. Some people who had recovered from their terror of the toothless and now-leashed Étudiant set up a cheer.

  De Coligny steadied Vespa while imploring him to exercise some self-control.

  Impressed by the Englishman’s athletics, Pierre was applauding even as tears of mirth glinted in his eyes. “These English, they move from one place to another very swiftly, Papa,” he chortled.

  Consuela’s mischievous face peeped from behind the chevalier. “I am truly sorry, dear Jack,” she pleaded, with not a tear in sight and her eyes alight with laughter.

  “Yes, I can see you are,” panted Vespa, scarlet with embarrassment and momentarily forgetting how he had grieved and worried for his exasperating love.

  “Jack!” Running along the deck to the stern of the Saucy Maid, Paige Manderville howled, “What the devil are you doing over there?”

  “Sorry, Paige,” shouted Vespa breathlessly. “But— No! You maniac! It’s too far!”

  It was. Manderville jumped, notwithstanding.

  Fortunately, he was a good swimmer.

  Ignoring the hilarious onlookers, and Pierre, who had crumpled to the ground and was rolling about, convulsed, Vespa rushed to assist Manderville onto the quay. Such selfless devotion was astounding, and gazing in awe at his gallant but drenched comrade, Vespa said, “My dear fellow! How very good of you! But—oh, egad! Your new coat!”

  Manderville dashed salt water from his eyes and peered down at the disaster. “My … new … coat!” he wailed through chattering teeth.

  Vespa took off his cloak and wrapped it about the swimmer. “I must get you out of this wind, before you catch the pneumonia.”

  De Coligny waved imperatively, and a small carriage drawn by four ill-matched horses was driven to them.

  A liveried footman opened the door. Pierre clambered onto the box beside the coachman, and de Coligny ushered Consuela, Manderville and Vespa up the steps, then climbed in to sit beside Vespa. “Shall you wait for the next boat?” he enquired, as the footman closed the door.

  Consuela, who was chafing Manderville’s icy hands, said, “No! Jack, I will not have you lose this chance to find Lord Kincraig, only so as to escort me home! Besides, with that horrid Monsieur Monteil after him the gentleman is in great danger, and must be warned! You cannot turn your back on a kinsman! We are here!”

  “Y-yes. And dash it all, C-Consuela, we shouldn’t b-be!” complained Manderville. “Use your—your wits, Jack! The people on the quay know we’re British! We’ll be l-lucky to get away from here alive, l-let alone go farther inland!”

  Troubled, Vespa turned to de Coligny. “Have I already put you at risk, Gaston?”

  The chevalier shrugged. “Long ages past the Bretons migrated here from your land, did you not know it?”

  Vespa nodded. “From Cornwall and Wales, I believe.”

  “Yes. Which is why this peninsula was once called Petite Bretagne—or Little Britain. The common folk dislike foreigners, Parisians especially, for throughout our history France has often tried to conquer us. You will think it odd, but I believe my Bretons would be less likely to arrest you, or to blame me for your presence, than they would if you had come from Paris. Still, Manderville is right. To leave my area and travel inland will involve much risk for you, mon ami.”

  “Perhaps. However, Miss Jones is dark-haired and part-Italian, which would, I believe, guarantee her safety and not endanger you or your family. Gaston—may I impose on you to
guard her for me while I go on to Rennes?”

  De Coligny looked thoughtfully from one to the other of their anxious faces. He said slowly, “I owe you my life, Captain John Vespa. And as I have said, I am a Breton. Even so, I fought for Napoleon. I will have one thing from you before I answer: your word of honour that your quest has nothing whatsoever to do with this war, and that for France it holds no threat.”

  Vespa said fervently, “On my honour, and as God be my judge, I swear it!”

  “In that case,” said the Frenchman with a smile, “my home is but three leagues distant, and I am very sure my wife will be delighted to have Miss Jones’ company.”

  Manderville threw up his hands. “You’re all mad!” he declared. “S-stark, raving l-loobies!”

  * * *

  The drive to the Château de Coligny was far from comfortable. The road was poorly paved and full of potholes, and the terrain was very ridged. It seemed to Consuela that she was constantly either almost jolted from the seat when the coach was moving down some steep slope, or in danger of having Jack deposited in her lap when they were climbing one of the innumerable hills. The bumpy ride did not disturb Manderville; evidently tired from his impromptu swim, he soon fell asleep.

  Vespa wanted to hear more about Consuela’s meeting with de Coligny, and the chevalier told laughingly how he had been terrified by her threat to attack him with his own umbrella.

  “My lady is an Amazon, véritable,” said Vespa, his eyes saying something very different.

  Blushing because of that look, Consuela declared, “It was all because of Pierre. He told me such a story! He said Monsieur de Coligny was his wicked uncle, who had arranged to have him thrown overboard.”

  “In order to seize control of his fortune, no doubt,” said Vespa, amused. “I wonder you believed the little scamp, Consuela.”

  The chevalier shook his head ruefully. “He has too much of the imagination, alas.”

  “He was certainly very convincing,” said Consuela. “And one does hear of such things. Only think of the little Princes in the Tower, poor boys. I remember when Nonna told me about them.…” The words trailed off into silence.