Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns (14 page)

Diccon grabbed for the reins, but the widow's piercing tones
further
upset poor Mr. Fox, who essayed a buck. The cart rocked wildly, and
"Lady Leith" was tossed out.

Arthur had been correct. Marietta hadn't quite finished the
"lady."
In fact, parts of "her" were only tacked in place. The fall was fatal.

Mrs. Maitland's was not a kindly nature, but she had not seen
this
latest addition to Mrs. Cordova's collection, and believed she
witnessed a decapitation. Her shriek was ear-splitting and sent Orpheus
into a shy that propelled Sir Lionel into a soaring flight cut short by
the law of gravity. Fortunately, his plump form cushioned the widow
when she slid from the saddle in a dead faint.

Marietta and Fanny had encountered Innes Williard in the
village,
and the gentleman had insisted that he and his head groom escort their
coach on the return journey. They came upon the scene in time to see
Sir Lionel sprawled in the dirt, clutching the widow in his arms.

'Papa!" cried Marietta, trying to open the coach door.

"
Whatever
are you doing?" gasped Fanny.

Not one to miss an opportunity, Mr. Williard thundered,
"Unhand my sister, sir!"

'Eh?" said Sir Lionel, dazed.

Escaping the coach and running to bend over her sire, Marietta
asked, "Are you all right, Papa? Whatever happened?"

'Sir Lionel very gallantly saved Mrs. Maitland when she
fainted and fell from her horse," said Diccon, battling laughter.

'As usual you talk rubbish!" Mr. Williard dismounted and
thrust the
reins at his groom. "M'sister never fainted in her life. And if she
did," he contradicted himself, dropping to one knee beside the widow,
"there must have been some damned good cause."

Recovering, Mrs. Maitland moaned, "Oh, oh, oh," and threw her
arms
around his neck, wailing, "Poor woman… she has lost her head!"

'And so have you, by the look of things," snapped her
insensitive
brother. But for the first time, catching sight of the unfortunate
figure in the ditch, he recoiled, aghast.

'No, no. Pray do not be distressed, ma'am," said Marietta,
kneeling
and taking one of Mrs. Maitland's hands. "It's my aunt's newest
effigy—not the real Lady Leith."

'As anyone can see, who's not half blind," snarled Williard,
pulling
himself together and casting a blighting glare at his sister.

With comprehension came rage. Mrs. Maitland turned on Diccon,
shrilling, "Oh! How horrid you are! You deliberately tried to frighten
me!"

'A shameful and dastardly trick to play on a helpless lady,"
roared Williard.

'Nonsense," said Diccon coolly. "I regret the lady was
frightened, but it was an accident.

'If you would be so kind as to—get off my lap, ma'am?"
ventured Sir Lionel.

Williard pulled the widow up, and Diccon left the cart and
helped Sir Lionel to his feet.

'It wasn't the Major's fault, sir," quavered Arthur, clutching
his
"pistol" and looking very scared. "We was just playing Highwayman, but—"

Williard boomed, "I hold you responsible for your son's
deplorable
conduct, Warrington! And you had best pray my sister ain't seriously
hurt! As for you, Major, dash it all, I'd think a grown man could find
something more worthwhile to do with his spare time than to play games
with children!"

'We differ," drawled Diccon.

'By grab!" exclaimed Mr. Williard's groom who had been
watching
Diccon narrowly. "I thought I reckernized you! We was in the same
company at Waterloo. D'you remember me, Sergeant?"

Marietta's eyes flashed to Diccon's expressionless face.

Fanny, who had come to stand close to her, murmured, "
Sergeant
?"

Innes Williard gave a bark of laughter. "Sergeant, is it? I
knew
you were no officer! Lie your way out of this, fellow!"

Ignoring him, Diccon put out his hand. "Of course I remember
you,
Skipton. I'm glad to see you survived. Not many from our company did."

The groom drew back, eyeing his employer uneasily. "Beg
pardon, sir. Wasn't me place to have spoke up."

''You did well," said Williard, grinning broadly. "Now I'd
like to hear what our pseudo major has to say for himself."

Marietta said, "I am sure we all honour any gentleman who
fought in
that terrible battle. Regardless of his rank. But instead of standing
about talking, we must get my father home, Maj— er, Mr.—"

'Major is correct, ma'am," said Diccon, his smile awakening
tiny laugh-lines at the corners of his eyes.

'Ware deception, Miss Marietta," jeered Williard, helping Mrs.
Maitland to mount up. "I fancy he'll claim a battlefield commission."

'Are you subject to such flights of fancy?" Diccon raised his
brows.
"From sergeant to—major? Egad! It's clear to see you've never served in
the army!" He turned to Sir Lionel. "You must go home in the carriage,
sir. You've taken a nasty spill."

Sir Lionel's eyes turned longingly to Orpheus. "But, I—"

Marietta took his arm. "This way, Papa," she said firmly,
leading him towards the coach.

'I want our physician to look at you, Isolde." Williard raised
his
voice and called vindictively, "And you'll be hearing from me,
Warrington. In more ways than one, I promise you!"

Sir Lionel sat in his favourite chair in the book room and
stared at
the empty hearth, pondering Fate. Marietta had gone upstairs to put
Arthur down for his nap; Dova was in the withdrawing room, fussing over
her decapitated "friend"; Fanny was setting out luncheon, and Diccon
was at the stables attending to his hack. So, as usual, here sat the
head of the house, deserted; with no one to confide in, or offer him
sympathy. It had been thus, ever since his darling Elsa died. Trying to
cope, all alone. And life was so deuced full of traps. It was clear
that Innes Williard meant to be difficult over that unfortunate wager.
And very likely Diccon would march back in here, claiming that
confounded brute of a horse had a strained hock, or some such thing.
Lord knows, he'd meant no harm when he'd taken the stallion out for a
little jaunt, but—

The faintest silvery sound alerted him, and he looked up to
find the Major—or whatever he was—standing beside his chair.

'By George!" he exclaimed. "You tread softly, man! I didn't
hear a
sound till your spur jingled. You don't mean to ride out again after
luncheon?"

'No. Before, sir. I rather think I've outstayed my welcome."

'Fiddlesticks! Now sit down, do! Never think I care whether
you're a
major or a private! You keep m'cellar well-stocked and I'd be a fool
not to comprehend that in your line of work small— ah, deceptions, are
sometimes a necessity. Truth is, I owe you an apology for borrowing
your hack without asking permission."

Settling into the chair indicated, Diccon said, "No harm done,
though I seldom allow anyone to ride Orpheus. He's a tricky brute to
manage."

'Speaking of which," put in Marietta, coming into the room,
ginger
jar in hand. "However did you manage to double our Chinese Funds, Papa?"

Diccon, who had stood when she entered, acquired an
apprehensive expression and edged towards the door.

Mystified, Sir Lionel said, "How's that again?"

'What is twelve from forty-two?" she asked, stepping in front
of Diccon and looking up at him enquiringly.

'I—er—," he mumbled.

She nodded. "Too difficult, sir?"

'If you can't deduct twelve from forty-two, you ain't even a
sergeant," said Sir Lionel, laughing. "It's thirty of course, m'dear.
What else?"

'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!"