Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns (15 page)

''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 serious. 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 thudding 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.

''You play splendidly. You must know I mean to demand that you
play
for us at the dower house. Unless—" She hesitated and added with care,
"Am I intruding on very personal ground? If so, I beg pardon."

At once his expression lightened. "How could I be anything but
pleased? Amateur musicians love a captive audience, you know."

''Your performance just now did not sound in the least
amateurish. How is the piece called?"

''The Honourable.'' I wrote it for Sir John Moore, who was one
of the most truly honourable gentlemen I have ever known."

Marietta stopped walking and put an impulsive hand on his arm.
"
You
composed that beautiful music?"

He nodded, her admiration causing his lean cheeks to flush
with pleasure.

''But—how wonderful! What a great gift! Is
that
why you stay here, all alone? To concentrate on your composing? What
else have you written? Oh, I must hear it all!"

''I'm afraid you have, ma'am. At least, that is my only
concert piece."

Bewildered, she said, "But—why? How could you have thrown away
such
talent in exchange for a military life? You should have studied with a
famous composer, or at some great school of music, like—like that
university in… in Paris is it?"