Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns (21 page)

He grinned and presented his back to her. Marietta replaced
her
stocking and the broken sandal and sat down again, inviting him to join
her. "Are you in a hurry? Or could we rest for a little while? It's
such a lovely morning."

He assured her that he had "all the time in the world," and
sat
beside her, lowering himself cautiously. "You have been blackberrying,
I see."

''Yes, with Fanny. But my sandal broke, so I left her to do
the rest
of the work. My brother is come home from Cambridge laden with gifts
for us all…" For just an instant her eyes became troubled, then her
bright smile dawned and she went on: "Eric loves sweets, so Fanny's
going to bake some pies. I'll allow you to share some of these berries
if you tell me about your 'uninvited caller.' "

She offered the basket. Its dark harvest gleamed richly and
temptingly, and Diccon accepted the bribe at once. He gave her a
light-hearted version of the attack, dismissing his injuries as "just a
few scrapes logically come by as a result of not pausing to wake Mac
before charging the enemy."

Undeceived, she said with a concern that delighted him, "It
does not
look like 'just a few scrapes' to me. You make it all sound of little
consequence whereas it was more likely a desperate struggle. How
fortunate that you were able to drive him off!"

He smiled wryly. "I wish I could say I'd put the fellow to
ignominious flight, ma'am, but after he tossed me at the wall I was in
no case to defeat a cockroach."

She paused in the act of popping a blackberry into her mouth
and stared at him. "You mean he pushed you against the wall?"

''No, ma'am. I mean he objected when I gave him a whack with
my pistol, and he quite literally took me up and threw me aside."

She blinked. It didn't sound very heroic. "If you had a pistol
why ever did you not shoot the nasty creature?"

''I did. I think I hit him, in fact. It was too dark to see."

Envisioning Lanterns' gloom, even by daylight, she revised her
earlier opinion. "You should never have gone after him alone and in the
dark. And how very odd it is that anyone could hope to find a lost
treasure at night time! I suppose there is no chance of your
recognizing him if you saw him again?"

He said slowly, "That's why I was riding over to see you.
Arthur
mentioned that your Mrs. Gillespie had gone to a fair at Lewes, and I
wanted to talk to her about it. Did she come today, ma'am?"

''Yes, and she'll be glad to tell you about the fair. She
could speak of nothing else last time she came."

''Arthur said she saw a—giant?"

''So she claimed. He quite frightened her. I thought she meant
he was
part of a side-show, but she said he was just walking about and
everyone was staring because he was enormous and of extreme strange
appearance."

His lips tightened. "Did the lady say that her giant was from
the Orient?"

''That is what she thought, but—My heavens! Diccon! You do not
suspect he was your intruder?"

''I think it more than possible, yes. He had great strength,
and if
he's the man I suspect, we've met before. It would explain why he was
obliged to do his searching under cover of darkness, for he's instantly
recognizable and not the type who could venture abroad unnoticed." He
frowned, thinking that if Imre Monteil had heard of the legend he'd be
the very man to lust after
The Sigh of Saladin.
In which case
last night's break-in might have no connection with— He glanced up.
Marietta looked frightened. He said quickly, "That's probably the sum
and substance of it. A thief after a treasure that likely doesn't
exist, and who poses no danger to you or your family."

''But considerable danger to you?"

He shrugged. "Fore-warned is fore-armed. Speaking of which,
forgive me, but—why has your brother's arrival upset you?"

His eyes, which had been abstracted, were now piercingly
intent.
Dismayed, she thought, 'How could he possibly know?' and she protested,
"Really, Major! Why ever should you think such a thing? It makes me
very happy to welcome Eric home. If I seem a little excited, it is—"

''No." His long fingers closed over her hand. "Please do not
freeze
me, Miss Marietta. I am aware that I have no right to intrude in your
affairs. I can only say that nothing would give me greater joy
than—than to serve you in any way possible. If I were able to—" He bit
off that useless wish, and amended, "I have nothing to offer you but my
friendship; and that I offer with all my heart. If you are ever
distressed and need someone to just talk with perhaps, or—or if I could
be of help, you have but to call."

She knew by now that his nature was proud, yet he had spoken
so
earnestly, so humbly, and he sat there with devotion plainly written on
his bruised face, both hands holding hers as if he took some ancient
oath of fealty. With an odd ache of the heart she realized that here
was love; implied even if it could not be uttered. Here was a strong
shoulder to lean on; a confidante when she so badly needed
one.
Her eyes blurred and she had to turn away, so moved that she could say
nothing for a moment.

To Diccon, her silence and her averted face were ominous.
Likely, he
had made a proper fool of himself, and she was trying not to laugh at
him. 'Clumsy idiot!' he thought, and retreated behind his customary
sauvity, saying with a smile, "Jupiter, what a speech! My friends would
never believe it. You must think me a proper windy-wallets."

''Don't spoil it!" Marietta dabbed furtively at her tearful
eyes. "I
think it quite—quite the nicest thing that was ever said to me."

''You do?"

''I do. Thank you, my—friend. You are, of course, perfectly
right. If
you will be so kind as to let me sit in front of your saddle you can
carry me home, and along the way I will tell you, in strictest
confidence, what is worrying me. You can be very wise and knowing, and
say I am being a silly widgeon and making mountains out of mole-hills."

He chuckled and said he thought he was a reasonably brave man,
but
would never dare tell any lady that she was a silly widgeon. Because of
the stallion's uncertain temper, he swung into the saddle first and
held the horse steady while Marietta used the tree-trunk as a mounting
block. In no time he had settled her before him. He reined Orpheus to a
walk and kept one arm about Marietta's slender waist, joying in the
feel of her clasped so close against him, breathing the sweet fragrance
of her, listening as she told him of her beloved but headstrong
brother, and her fears for his sake.

By the time they approached the dower house quite a lot of the
blackberries had vanished and so had the few lingering doubts Marietta
had entertained. Diccon had a way of making her feel that he was not
only deeply interested in what she had to say, but that he respected
her opinions. It was a courtesy she seldom received from gentlemen.
Papa and his friends tended to exchange indulgent smiles when she dared
air her views on events, and invariably she would be told not to
trouble her "pretty little head" with such deep subjects. Even Blake,
who showed such partiality towards her, didn't seem to have much
interest in her remarks, and on one or two occasions had changed the
subject so abruptly that she'd been convinced he hadn't heard a word
she said.

When she finished her account, Diccon said gravely that in his
view
Eric Warrington was to be commended for striving to help his family.
"However," he added, "he does seem to be venturing into deep water at a
rather young age. I think your concern is justified and far from
widgeon-ish."

She turned and looked at him searchingly. "What must I do? If
I try
to advise him he'll just say I'm being a nag and spoiling his triumphs.
Should I speak to Papa about it?"

Having formed a very good idea of her father's mental accuity,
he
advised against such a step. "You don't want your brother to think
you're going behind his back. On the other hand, I agree that a
sensitive young fellow might balk at accepting advice from his sister.
I wonder if he would come down and meet me? I might be able to find out
a little more about the scheme and drop a friendly hint if it sounds at
all smoky."

She was delighted by this suggestion. Eric, she said, was
exceedingly fond of Arthur, and when he knew how kind Diccon had been
to the boy he would certainly want to go down to Lanterns and meet him.

They parted at the lodge gates. Dazzled by her smile, Diccon
watched
Marietta pick her way cautiously up to the house. She paused on the
terrace to wave to him. He returned the wave, then reined Orpheus
around to the south once more.

He rode down the hill slowly, reliving their moments together,
dreaming foolish dreams. But he must not indulge such thoughts. With an
effort he forced himself to stop mooning like a lovesick boy and use
his mind to some purpose. He pondered what she'd said and tried not to
be influenced either by his love for her, or by cynicism. If Eric
Warrington was a financial genius everything might be perfectly legal
and above-board, and what a blessing that would be to his family. On
the other hand, there was no denying that for a young fellow to have
come by such a large amount and so quickly, sounded somewhat
havey-cavey.

Plagued by unease, he relaxed his grip on the reins and
allowed Orpheus to spring into a thundering gallop.

MacDougall ran to take the bridle when Diccon rode into the
courtyard at Lanterns. There was a frantic look in the Scot's eyes, an
expression so foreign to the usually phlegmatic individual that Diccon
stared at him in astonishment and, dismounting, asked, "What is it?"

''I'd nae bargained for this, y'ken," gabbled MacDougall, his
accent
so thick as to be barely understandable. "A muckle bonnie brrrawl has
the MacDougall fecht wi' a musket or a dag i' his clout, but bogles and
goblins and witches, bonnie though they may be, isna whaur I'll bide,
mon! I'll nae…" The words faded as he led Orpheus away, shaking his
head.

''I suppose you know what you said, Mac." Shaking his own
head, Diccon muttered, "Be damned if I do!"

He crossed the bridge, entered the house by the front door,
and
wandered along the corridor his thoughts still on the lovely Marietta.
"My friend," she'd said, with such a warm smile. And how sweetly
trusting she had looked while telling him of Eric Warrington's
grandiose plans. He pushed open the door to the kitchen which was at
present the most habitable room in the manor. He'd have to see what—

A soft chuckle, and the door slammed shut behind him.

Whirling about, pistol in hand, he gasped, "Gad, ma'am! Never
do that!"

Emma Cordova spread her skirts wide and sank into a low
curtsy. "As you command, my lord."

''I am not—" he began, restoring the pistol to his pocket.

''—What you seem," she finished, and curtsied again.

He grunted and pulled out a chair for her. "Is anyone?"

''Something wicked this way comes,' " she quoted. "If I
thought 'twas
you, Temple and Cloud…" She leaned forward, arms on the table, peering
up at him.

''My name is Mallory Diccon Paisley. A mouthful, I agree. So
most
people simply call me Major Diccon." His unexpectedly endearing smile
chased the grimness from his eyes. "And what would you do, ma'am?
Inform against me as a free-trader?"

''Oh, no. I would kill you."

She spoke matter-of-factly, but his smile died and he stood
staring
down at her. "By Jove, I believe you would make a try at it."

''I love my family. And what I see in your eyes tells me—"

''That I am the evil coming this way?"

''Very possibly. In spite of how much you love her."

He stiffened, then turned away to open a cupboard. "May I
offer you a glass of ratafia, ma'am?"

''Only if you have nothing livelier. Ah. You are exceeding
attractive
when you smile, which you know, of course. Yes, the Madeira will do
nicely, thank you." She sipped the wine he handed her and watched as he
poured himself a glass and pulled a chair closer. "You don't bother to
deny it, do you, Major?"

He said blandly, "Deny what is the threat I pose? I've not the
benefit of your Mystical Window Through Time, ma'am. Perhaps you will
tell me."

''That's not what I meant, as you are well aware. I suppose
'twould
be a waste of my time to try to wring a plain answer from you, and as I
know the truth at all events I won't make the effort. As to the
other"—Mrs. Cordova sighed heavily—"it is very confused just now and
difficult to understand. But I must warn you because there is trouble
and danger, and a visitor who seems to threaten you, and…"

''And—ma'am?"

In a sudden and disconcerting shift of mood she giggled and
said
coquettishly, "And this is excellent wine, sir. I will take a teensy
bit more, if you please. Thank you. I do hope there has been a great
tragedy in your life? Oh, dear. Now I've made you spill the wine!"

Slightly breathless, he said, "You've a way of catching a man
offstride, Mrs. Cordova."

''Good. Has there been? I don't mean the war or anything
connected with your—er, occupation."

In the act of taking up his glass again his hand stilled for
an instant. Then he said expressionlessly, "When I was eighteen."

To his astonishment she choked on her wine, sprang up, and
began to
pace round and round the table, wringing her hands and wailing. "Oh,
no, no, no! Too long ago! Then, it will be here! It will be here!"

He was silent, watching her, wondering if she was quite sane
or if
she really did possess clairvoyant powers. Fortune-tellers, mediums,
mystics were very popular nowadays and although he'd always viewed
matters of the occult with scepticism he knew several people of fine
intellect whose decisions were influenced by the advice of their
astrologers.