Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns (24 page)

''What—on earth?" Another lady, very wet and dishevelled and
wrapped in a large apron, hurried to join them.

''Don't look!" cried Vaughan, flinging up a gallantly
protecting hand. "It's horrid! Is your master still alive?"

Marietta's lower lip sagged, and Fanny stared at this
(astonishingly handsome) young lunatic speechlessly.

''There has been a most frightful tragedy," said Vaughan,
drawing his
handkerchief and wiping his pallid brow. "This poor demented maid
appears to be the only survivor! We shall have to call in the
authorities at once. Are you the housekeeper? Or is there someone who
can—"

''Survivor… of what?" asked Marietta, bewildered.

''Mass murder in the drawing room," spluttered Fanny.

''Oh, dear me! Another visitor! The Mystical Window Through
Time was
right again!" A startling figure came in from the front hall and peered
up into Vaughan's face. "So you have this way come," she remarked. "But
you don't look very wicked."

He was unable to return the compliment and gazed at her,
stunned. A
tangle of wet hair was plastered to her forehead, thick face paint was
running, giving her a most ghoulish appearance, and a voluminous cloak
sagged, drenched, about her.

A small boy clad in what appeared to be chain mail, and with a
most
odd helmet on his head came clanking down the stairs accompanied by a
large ginger cat that flashed across the dining room and launched
itself into the visitor's arms.

''I knowed he wouldn't keep his promise," the child wailed.
"I'll split his wishbone!"

Vaughan whispered, "Oh… my… God!"

Fanny could not contain herself, and laughed till she cried.

When the explanations and introductions had been made Vaughan
was
invited to stay for tea. In the absence of their groom he took his
mount to the barn and tended to its needs with the swift efficiency
learned by all those who had been members of the Duke of Wellington's
dauntless cavalry.

When he returned to the house the younger ladies and the pile
of
washing had disappeared somewhere. Mrs. Cordova was in the kitchen and
offered a curtsy so deep and flourishing that he was taken aback, but
with the paint removed from her face, she looked far less frightening.
Despite her odd appearance he was astonished to find a lady of Quality
working in the kitchen, but there was no doubt that this was a very
unconventional household. Mrs. Cordova seemed not at all disconcerted
by his presence but bustled about making preparations for tea, and
chattering endlessly about his uncle, John Moulton, of whom she spoke
very highly. Enquiring after Lord John's bride, Lady Salia, she smiled
nostalgically at the tea strainer, and murmured, "She was of the
gypsies, I know, but such a beautiful creature." Before he could
comment, she burst into song. "She has healing hands of green. But
through my window she's not seen!" 

He had not the faintest notion of
how one responded to such odd behaviour and was murmuring a feeble,
"How—ah, nice," when to his great relief Miss Warrington reappeared
and ushered him into the drawing room. She had changed for
dinner
and he thought her very pretty in a white gown trimmed with red velvet.
A moment later her sister arrived, and his breath was snatched away. In
a gown of primrose and gold, with a golden fillet threaded charmingly
through her dark curls, Miss Fanny was so dazzling that he was scarcely
able to respond properly when Mrs. Cordova left them, saying she had to
"make some necessary repairs."

''You must think me a proper cloth-head," said Vaughan, taking
the
cup of tea Fanny offered. "I can only plead that I should have
recognized Miss Warrington at once save that the light was rather dim,
and—er—"

''And one sees what one expects to see," said Marietta, adding
a log
to the now merrily blazing fire. "You could not have expected to see me
here, and considering the way I was dressed I'm not surprised that you
were confused."

Miss Fanny's big hazel eyes laughed into his as she proffered
milk
and sugar. A dimple flickered at the corner of her mouth reminding him
that he was staring again and had not replied to her sister's remark.
He said hurriedly, "You are very kind, Miss Warrington. I'll confess
I'd not known you had removed from Town."

''We have suffered reverses, you see," explained Fanny in a
frank,
unspoiled way that he thought enchanting. "We lost our own home and in
fact this house is only leased."

''I would never have guessed," he declared staunchly. "Leased
homes
are so often rather stark, whereas this is perfectly charming." And
indeed, now that the candles were lit and firelight warmed the room, it
was very different. So different that had he been offered the choice of
any mansion in the land at that moment, he would have wanted to be
nowhere else.

'It is a nice house," said Marietta, taking a seat nearby.
"But I
can appreciate what a great shock it was for you to come upon my
aunt's—er, 'friends' in a darkened room in the middle of a
thunderstorm."

''Oh, a very great shock," said Fanny demurely.

He grinned. "You had a jolly time laughing at my
consternation, Miss
Fanny. If I had suffered a heart seizure, you'd have been sorry!"

''How could I help but laugh?" she countered. "You looked so
funny, and clearly feared you'd wandered into a mad-house."

''And indeed we would have been very sorry," said Marietta,
quite
aware of the becoming blush on her sister's cheeks and the mischievous
sparkle in her eyes. "I promise you the figures were not made with the
intent of alarming people, but to console my aunt. She misses her
friends, you see."

Fanny said, "I expect you think it odd that she pretends
they're really here, chatting with her."

It seemed to him excessively odd but he said heartily, "Now
that I
see them in a better light I have to say the likenesses are remarkable.
Miles Cameron especially. You'll have to make a change though; Miles
was promoted. And about time!"

This news was received with delight. "He's a charming
gentleman,"
said Marietta. "A close friend of your cousin, Lord St. Clair, unless I
mistake it. Were you all at Waterloo?"

''Lucian and Miles were. I was knocked down at Quatre Bras, so
can't
claim the distinction of having survived the big battle." He paused, a
far-away look creeping into his dark eyes.

Marietta was reminded of just that same haunted expression in
Diccon's eyes when he'd spoken of Waterloo.

Fanny said earnestly, "I think most people think of Quatre
Bras as
being a part of the battle. You may be sure we are all very proud of
the men who fought for us so bravely."

Touched, Vaughan flushed and stammered that although his own
participation had been minimal, there were countless splendid fellows
who deserved such accolades.

''No such thing!" Mrs. Cordova surged into the room clad in an
impressive purple gown and a turban in which a single rather threadbare
feather soared skyward. "Lucian St. Clair never tires of telling people
that you saved his life," she went on, "and very nearly lost your own
in the process. One cannot like a braggart, but false modesty is
tiresome."

Vaughan had stood politely when she entered. Red as fire, he
wished
the floor might open under him, and said with an embarrassed laugh that
it was hard to know where one began and the other left off. And
maligning the cousin who was as close to him as a brother, he added,
"Besides, St. Clair is a very frippery fellow, ma'am. I'm not eager to
go about claiming responsibility for his continued existence!"

Viscount Lucian St. Clair's exploits had won him widespread
admiration, and at this they all laughed.

Fanny said, "I am going to guess that is why you are in the
neighbourhood. Lord Temple and Cloud was also at Waterloo, and is a
friend of yours."

Grateful for this change of subject, Vaughan sat down again.
He had
not met Temple and Cloud, he said. "I intruded on you so rudely because
I thought this was a manor called Lanterns. Am I very far off?"

''About two miles," said Fanny, puzzled.

''You are on the Lanterns estate," explained Marietta, passing
a dish of warm scones. "But this is the dower house."

''Do you mean to call on Lord Temple and Cloud?" asked Fanny.

In the act of reaching for a scone, Vaughan paused, looking at
her curiously. "No, ma'am. Should I?"

Marietta said, "I understood you to say you had mistaken this
house
for the manor. I believe there is no one else there, unless perhaps you
are calling on Micah MacDougall."

Relieved, Vaughan exclaimed, "Oh, good! If Mac's there, Diccon
must
be somewhere nearby." The scone was light as a feather, and he was
about to compliment the cook when he saw their exchange of glances. At
once apprehensive, he said, "Something is wrong, I collect. Never say
Diccon has met with another accident."

''Oh, several," said Fanny.

Watching him over the rim of her teacup, Mrs. Cordova said,
"That disturbs you. Are you close friends?"

''I think not," Fanny interpolated. "When Mr. Vaughan arrived
he called the Major a traitor."

Vaughan said tersely, "Your pardon, ma'am, but I said
'trader,' not
'traitor.' And we are indeed friends. Is he badly hurt this time?"

Marietta answered, "Fortunately, not," and hid her surprise
that even his friends did not know of Diccon's title.

Less tactful, Fanny exclaimed, "But if you are his friend you
surely must know that Diccon Paisley
is
Lord
Temple and Cloud?"

Vaughan stared at her speechlessly. Then laughter gleamed in
his
eyes. He said, "Miss Warrington, I think someone has been hoaxing you."

Mrs. Cordova sighed. "I fear you are right, Mr. Vaughan. On
more counts than one."

''Of all the chawbacons!" exclaimed Vaughan stretching his
cold hands
to the kitchen stove at Lanterns. "How could you not have expected it
would pass to you? After your great-uncle's death surely you realized
it was a possibility?"

Diccon tilted his chair backward, settled his spurred heels on
the
kitchen table, and regarded his friend drowsily. "With one great-uncle,
one uncle, and two cousins between me and the title, why should I
suspect that illness would claim two, the war another, and a hunting
accident the last?"

''Even so, anyone who turns down a proud and ancient title
such as yours should be placed under strong restraint!"

''Did you gallop all the way from Town to give me that
unwanted opinion? Or have you joined the ranks of treasure hunters?"

''Treasure?" Vaughan sat straighter. "What treasure? I demand
that you tell me at once!"

Diccon groaned and appealed to MacDougall, who was busied with
potatoes at the sink. "I can't bear it. You tell him, Mac."

The Scot obliged, inserting several pithy opinions of his own
which
made Vaughan chuckle and Diccon swear. When the tale was told however,
Vaughan's eyes were alight with enthusiasm. "What a jolly good hunt
we'll have! Is that why you're here, Major, sir?"

''Oh, no," said Diccon mildly. "I came to murder my mama so as
to get my hands on my inheritance. Past time, wouldn't you say?"

MacDougall threw down the potato and waved his hands in the
air, muttering a furious burst of Gaelic at the
ceiling.

Vaughan watched Diccon uncertainly, then laughed. "Long past
time.
I'll keep your ghoulish secret provided you do not give me the room in
which the poor lady is buried 'neath the floor' boards."

Diccon's rare and brilliant grin was slanted at him. "You'd be
better advised to go back to Greenwings, Joss. Ti Chiu is fouling our
good Sussex air."

''Ah," said Vaughan, sobering. "So you know."

''Did you come to warn me?"

''I did. How did you find out?"

''He found me. Broke in here a few nights back and we had a
slight tussle."

More Gaelic rumbled from the direction of the sink.

''And you're alive?" said Vaughan, incredulous. "I thought you
looked
a shade wrung out, but the great lout must be losing his power. Last
time we encountered him he levelled… how many of us?"

''Six, or was it seven? But I think he came here only for
The
Sigh of Saladin
, not for me. If he'd recognized me…" He
shrugged.

''It would be a case of
'de mortius nil nisi bonum,'
" said
Vaughan lightly. "So you want to run me off from a jolly good
adventure! Blister it, Diccon! That you have survived to the ripe old
age of three and thirty astounds me, but the fact that you're six years
my senior don't make you my grand-papa, so stop being a marplot!"

''My good idiot, in the spring we spoiled Imre Monteil's
scheme to make off with a fortune in stolen
objets d'art
.
We extricated his chosen lady, who is—"

''Who is to become Mrs. Valentine Montclair next month. I
brought your invitation, by the way."

Diccon's eyes brightened. "Did you, by Jove! That's good news!
Which
doesn't alter what I was saying. Between us, we ruined and infuriated a
very dangerous man, and he swore vengeance on—"

''On all of us. After you let him get away!"

''I let him—" Diccon swung his feet down from the table and
said
indignantly, "Devil take you, Vaughan! I did my damnedest to—" He
checked, glared, then said reluctantly, "Well, I suppose you're in the
right of it. I did. The more reason—"

''For me to tuck my tail 'twixt my legs and scamper off, eh?
What
good would that do? After they dealt with you, they'd come after me,
sure as check! There's safety in numbers, my tulip." Vaughan raised a
silencing hand as Diccon started to speak, and added airily, "Besides
which, I've a far more compelling reason to stay at your tumble-down
ancestral pile."