Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns (18 page)

It was past time to take the child home, and, very aware of a
small
and drooping lower lip, Diccon told MacDougall to saddle Orpheus. He
thought it would be a treat for the boy to ride in front of his saddle,
but Arthur tugged at his sleeve and put in a request that they walk.
"To ride would take quicker," he said.

It was still drizzling when they set out, Arthur swamped in a
seaman's jacket that Diccon wore when on a voyage with Yves and his
crew, and Friar Tuck cleaning one paw on the back step and paying not
the slightest attention to their departure. Arthur was busily occupied
with keeping the sleeves under control, but between bursts of hilarity
he imparted the news that Mrs. Gillespie had gone to a fair at Lewes
and had seen a giant; that Mrs. Maitland had visited the great Madame
Olympias and had been very cross because of something she'd been told;
and that Mr. Coville was always at the dower house. "I 'spect you know
that, though," he added. "Oh, there goes Friar Tuck! Look at him run!"

Diccon glanced at the cat which flashed past and up the slope
at a
great rate of speed. "Why would I know that Mr. Coville was there?" he
asked.

" 'Cause he comed down here to see you, a'course. Is you
coming back,
Diccon? He can't play, you know. He just talks to Etta and to Fanny."

So Coville had visited Lanterns. Looking for Lady Pamela no
doubt,
thought Diccon with a grim smile. If so, it had been a covert search;
certainly, he'd not come to the front door.

''… do you?" asked Arthur.

''Er—your pardon? Do I—what?"

''Like him. I don't. He's always patting me on the head an'
telling
me to 'run along like a good boy.' An' he smiles a lot, but he doesn't
laugh. Not even when Friar Tuck chased a mouse all round the kitchen
'fore dinner las' night, an' Aunty Dova an' Fan screamed an' screamed.
Papa an' me, we laughed."

''I expect you did, you rascal. What about Miss Marietta? Did
she laugh?"

''Yes, but she opened the back door an' Friar an' the mouse
runned
out. Mr. Coville just smiled. Papa likes him. I heared him tell Aunty
Dova he's a fine fellow. An' Fanny says he's very han'some an' that
he's payin' Etta interest, or something."

Diccon scowled, but said quietly, " 'Fixing his interest,'
perhaps?"

''I dunno. Oh, here comes Etta now. I found Sir G'waine, Etta!"

Marietta was walking down the hill towards them, her cloak
billowing
in the wind. Diccon's heart convulsed painfully. He halted, watching
her. The wind had blown her hair into a tangle and painted a becoming
glow on her cheeks; raindrops sparkled on her dainty nose, and she
looked predictably cross. But she had come herself, not sent Lem
Bridger or Mrs. Gillespie to fetch Arthur home.

Longing to see those stern lips curve into her enchanting
smile, he said, "Good morning, ma'am. I was just bringing him home."

''Yes." There was no smile and after a brief cold glance, she
avoided his eyes. "Thank you."

''This is Major Diccon's seafarin' jacket," said Arthur
importantly. "Isn't it fine, Etta?"

''It was very kind of the Major to let you borrow it, dear.
But I brought your coat, so you must give it back now."

''Let me wear it home, Etta. Please do. I want to show Papa,
an' Sir G'waine can take it back when—"

''No, dear. Major Diccon is very busy, and Papa told you not
to come
to Lanterns any more. You disobeyed him, after you promised to do as he
said. That was naughty."

He said rebelliously, "I crossed my fingers, so it wasn't a
real live promise. An' 'sides, he's not busy, are you, Sir G'waine? He
likes me to go there, an' so does Mr. Fox an' the Lord of the Larder,
an'—"

Marietta blinked. "Who?"

''MacDougall," supplied Diccon.

''Oh."

''An' he played the pipes, an' I drummed, an' Diccon played
his
fiddle, an' we marched all 'round the house!" Arthur jumped up and down
in his enthusiasm, shouting, "It was such
fun,
Etta!"

Marietta watched him fondly, marvelling that this was the same
child
who had for the past two days been so listless and silent. The hurt
look of bewilderment and loss was banished from his face now. He was a
happy little boy again, bursting with energy and enthusiasm. How
perverse was Fate that her little brother should have taken such a
liking to this treacherous individual, and that so ruthless and
deceitful a man would spare the time to be kind to a child he scarcely
knew. And how could she, loving the boy so much, fail to be grateful to
anyone
who had given him such joy? She said
smilingly, "It
sounds lovely, dear. That was kind in you, Major. Even so, you will
understand that he must obey my father."

''Yes, of course. You see, old fellow, we cannot always do
what we
want to." Diccon met Marietta's eyes and said, "Even if we want it more
than—more than anything in the world. And an honourable gentleman
doesn't break his promise, young Warrington."

''I 'spose not." Arthur looked crushed, then said brightly,
"Thass
all right, Sir G'waine. You can come an' see me. Can't he, Etta?" He
tugged at Diccon's hand. "I'm not too busy. Come now, an' after lunch
you can tell me one of your stories 'bout—"

''I'm afraid I won't be able to do that. For a while. But—"

''You're goin' 'way!" Arthur peered up at the tall man in new
anxiety. "Don't go,
Major. Please don't go 'way. You're my bes' friend, an—" His voice
broke. He said scratchily, "Can't I come an' see Mr. Fox, even?"

Diccon touched the tumbled curls and looked regretfully at the
tearful little face.

Marietta thought miserably, 'Oh, if only he was a different
kind of
man! Someone Arthur could really look up to and respect!' But "if
onlys" paid no toll, and smothering a sigh, she reached out. "Come,
dearest."

Arthur turned on her, his eyes gemmed with tears. "It's your
fault!"
he sobbed. "You taked 'way Harry Rogers, an' Spotty Bill, an' the
milkman, an' now I've found a new bes' friend you're making him go 'way
too. You don't want me to have friends! I don't—I don't love you… no
more!"

Diccon said sharply, "Arthur! You mustn't—"

But the boy was gone, running madly towards the dower house,
the jacket sleeves flapping and his sobs echoing after him.

Distressed, Marietta said, "Now see what you have done!"

''Yes. I'm very sorry. I didn't dream—"

Turning on him, she interrupted, "What? That you might become
fond of him?"

''That he would become fond of me. I suppose I should have
sent him away, but—" He gave a rueful shrug.

''Only think, my lord. Had you told a few truths instead of
very many untruths, this could have been averted!"

She looked vexed, but she was talking to him, and she made no
move
to follow her brother. He said, "Perhaps, it could have been averted
had you not been so willing to believe ill of me."

Her little chin tossed upward. "How should I not believe what
you yourself admitted, sir?"

''That I am Lord Temple and Cloud, for instance?"

''Among other things—yes."

''No."

She stared at him. "But, you said—"

''Your pardon, ma'am. You asked if that was my ancestral
title. It is. The thing is, you see, that I don't want it."

Her eyes widened and the rosy lips formed a pretty 'O.' She
echoed
in astonishment, "You won't use—the title? Good gracious! Why ever not?"

He shrugged. "Pride, I suppose you might say. I like to earn
my
honours. No, really, Miss Marietta, why on earth should I expect other
men—men probably more deserving than I—to bow and scrape and call me
'my lord' because of something my grandfather-several-greats-removed
did? I won my military rank on my own merits, but—"

Recovering her wits, she interrupted, "Which is what, exactly?
Sergeant? Or major? Or is it perhaps sergeant-major?" And fearing that
she might again be judging him too harshly, she asked quickly, "You
were not really promoted at Waterloo?"

''No, Miss Marietta. I was awarded my majority in 1813."

''I suppose you will claim that you have renounced that, also."

''I'll own I've almost lost it a few times. But my demotion at
Waterloo was—er, a matter of expedience."

Intrigued, she asked, "Are you allowed to speak of it?"

He hesitated. "Yes, if you will keep it to yourself, ma'am."

She nodded, and to his delight raised no objection as he began
to walk up the slope beside her.

'There was a clever thief about Town," he explained, "who
specialized in safes and strong-boxes. My superiors had reason to
believe that during his illicit pursuits he had come upon some
particularly vital information. The robbery was not reported by the
victims, but he'd been identified and was hunted. He had no idea of the
importance of what he had seen, or why he was so relentlessly pursued,
and when an attempt was made on his life he became very frightened and
hid himself in Rifle Green. We never dreamed then that Bonaparte would
really strike, and I was sent in to try and smoke out our man, as it
were. But I'd never have managed it as an officer."

''And so became a sergeant. I see. And were you able to 'smoke
him out' before the battle?"

''Fortunately, I was. During the battle."

The empty look had come into his eyes at that memory, and
seeing it, Marietta said, "There is a story there, I think."

''Yes, ma'am. Perhaps you will permit that I tell it to you—
sometime?"

He sounded so hopeful. Almost, she was lured into a smile, but
then
she remembered, and said hurriedly, "I had prefer that you tell me—"
And she paused, for she had no real right to demand information about a
family matter.

Diccon watched the swiftly changing play of emotion on the
face that
had become for him the epitome of feminine beauty. "You want to know if
I have really murdered my mother."

Her eyes shot to his with an eagerness that both angered him
and
warmed his heart. He said grimly, "I see my dear stepbrother has been
spreading his vitriol."

Marietta frowned. "Mr. Coville is understandably anxious for
the lady."

He gave a shout of bitter laughter. "Oh, understandably! Good
grief, madam, can you really believe that of me?"

He had stopped walking. She stopped also, and searching his
face,
said hesitantly, "I can believe that if someone were spreading such
untruths about my brother, he would call them out in an instant!"

''Then—you know them for untruths? Marietta," he stepped
closer to her, "is that what you're saying?"

That dreadful silver flame was in his eyes again, frightening
her
yet making her heart thunder with excitement. She said, "How can I
know
anything except—except that you do not deny it?"

He caught her hand and drew her closer, demanding huskily,
"Can you
look into my eyes and judge me capable of such a thing? Can you?"

She tried to steel herself against the tenderness that was so
clear
to see, but her attempt to break away was feeble in the extreme. It was
all wrong, she thought in desperation. Blake should be looking at her
in this unnerving way. Blake should be the one to make her heart pound
so violently. He was the man who could provide for her family. Not this
man of mystery who was so enigmatic and intense about things, and who
lacked Blake's looks and light-hearted charm. Yet Diccon had shown
unexpected depths of kindness, and of a strength that would be such a
bulwark against the world for the lucky lady who— She thought, 'Good
gracious!' and struggling to hold on to common sense, heard again
Coville's sombre words, "He is the most dangerous man I have ever
known."

''Even if I did not believe it," she said, turning her head
away, "so
long as you do not speak up, my family must have doubts. Who are we to
believe? Sir Gavin and Mr. Coville have been most kind to us. Why would
they lie about such a dreadful thing? Why even tell us of it? We are
not long-time friends."

He relaxed his hold on her hand. "But you live very close to
Lanterns, Miss Marietta. I'll warrant my step-father desired you to
keep him informed of what goes on at the manor."

It was true. Walking on slowly, she said, "But if they wanted
to
watch Lanterns, why would they have leased us the dower house in the
first place? Why not stay there themselves?"

''Probably because I had not at that time loomed as a threat
on their horizon."

Shocked, she said, "How do you constitute a threat? Sir Gavin
is a
very wealthy gentleman, and—" She bit her lip and did not finish the
sentence.

''And Lanterns is a ruin and I am very far from being
wealthy?" He
nodded. "Quite. And I forget my manners. It is very bad form to slander
members of one's own family behind their backs. Therefore, ma'am, I
must say no more, and can only beg you to believe that as God be my
judge I never have, and never will, I pray, harm a lady."

Troubled, she was silent.

He touched her hand tentatively, and she stopped once more and
faced him.

''Will you trust me, ma'am? May I be permitted to see the
dauntless
Outlaw of Sherwood Forest again? And… and your— very lovely—self?"

Marietta hesitated. Surely, no man could meet her eyes so
steadily,
so worshipfully, and be a liar and a murderer? And dear little Arthur
loved him so.

''Please?" he murmured.

''I shall have to speak with my father. I think I can persuade
him to
allow my brother to come down and see you, even if he will not permit
you to come to—" She laughed suddenly. "How silly of me! It is, after
all, your own house!"

''Not by the law of the land, Miss Marietta. The lease is
signed. For
its duration, Sir Lionel is the legal owner. But—I thank you for
allowing me to hope."

He took her hand and bowed over it with courtly grace.