Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns (42 page)

"It was splendid of you to take such a risk. I'm sure you have
her
safe and happy somewhere, but you are tired, my love. Do not—"

"In Italy," he muttered. "But I am still liable to…
prosecution if
he ever… should press charges. I wanted you to know, in case… I'd like
you not… not to think too badly of me."

Dr. Avebury came in. "I'm afraid I must ask you to leave now,
Miss Warrington."

She looked up at him, her face tear-streaked and full of dread.

He smiled, and patted her shoulder. "There's a young gentleman
in the corridor who needs you."

She bent over Diccon and kissed him full on the mouth. "God be
with you, my brave one," she said.

"But—yesterday you said he came through the surgery
splendidly."
Holding Fanny's hand tightly and sitting very close beside her on the
drawing room sofa, Marietta asked anxiously, "Is it a relapse? He
is
—oh
please
say he is going to live."

Dr. Avebury pursed his lips. "Temple and Cloud, or Major
Diccon as
you call him, has kept himself very fit. But he is no more immortal
than the rest of us, my dear ma'am. For the system to suffer such a
shock, and relatively soon after the other surgery is—um—a risky
business."

Marietta started to shake, and Fanny put an arm about her.
"Now,
dearest, don't fly into the dismals. Dr. Avebury hasn't said Diccon is
failing."

"No," whispered Marietta, the tears very close. "But—oh, Fan!
I don't think I could bear it if—"

"And I don't like it when people put words in my mouth,"
scolded the
doctor gently. "As I told Sir Lionel, we have to expect the Major's
condition to worsen before it improves. I'll not sugar coat matters;
for a week or so he's going to have a nasty time of it. But I have
installed a competent nurse, and with you charming ladies pampering
him, I don't see how he can help but make a recovery. Just don't expect
too much, too soon." He saw tears beading Marietta's lashes, and came
to his feet. "Enough of my blathering." He took her hand. "Keep him in
your prayers, Miss Warrington. It's the best remedy I know."

Marietta said something in a scratchy, unintelligible voice,
and the
doctor turned to shake hands with Sir Lionel. "You must be very
grateful that your little son was spared to you, sir."

"Yes." Sir Lionel's smile was wan. "I am, of course. Only… I
have another son, you see."

Marietta exchanged a quick glance with Fanny, and Vaughan
frowned.
The doctor decided there were murky waters here, and took his leave,
promising to call in the morning.

His prognosis proved all too accurate. Diccon's life became a
dreary
ordeal in which his only escape from pain was to plunge into a dark
world of searing heat and the re-living of the most nightmarish
episodes of his past. His moments of full consciousness were plagued by
fears of life with one arm, and his mind seemed determined to conjure
up every possible difficulty that might face him. Longing to see
Marietta, he dreaded to see her eyes full of pity. Loving her with
every breath, he shrank from the thought that she might consent to be
his wife only out of a sense of obligation. He knew from experience
that such anxieties would not help him, but was too weak to overcome
them.

After a long and exhausting period of hopeless confusion he
roused
to the awareness that he was very ill indeed, and to a sense of
indignation. What was left of his arm was aching fiercely, his head
pounded, he felt as if he was on fire, and as though he were not
sufficiently miserable, something was tickling his nose. He lacked the
strength to brush away whatever so tormented him, but managed to open
his eyes. The room was dark except for a shaded lamp that provided a
soft circle of light at the foot of the bed. Someone was sitting there,
reading. Closer at hand, two big green eyes stared into his own.

He said in a croaking voice that shocked him, "Get your
whiskers off… my nose, Friar!"

A pair of disembodied hands came to take up the cat. Mrs.
Cordova scolded, "Oh, you wretched creature! How did you—"

"Please." Diccon sighed. "Don't take him away."

"Of course, my dear," she said gently, restoring the miscreant
to the bed. "Whatever you wish."

Not finding a hand on one side, Friar Tuck sought out the
other. It
failed to bestow the caress that was his due, but he was an
accommodating animal. He squirmed and nudged and wriggled until the
fingers, if they did not exactly stroke him, at least curved around his
back. It would do, he decided, and snuggling closer, began to purr.

Diccon smiled faintly, and fell asleep.

Sitting gingerly on the side of the bed, Vaughan was heartened
by
the fact that Diccon had improved sufficiently to ask questions.
"Tuesday," he answered. "Or to be more exact, eight days since you
decided to play the hero."

Feeble but indignant, Diccon said, "Damn you, Joss! What a
wretched
thing to say! Had you been in my shoes you'd have done exactly the
same!"

Today there was a tinge of colour in the drawn face, and
although it
was all too clear that the poor fellow was still miserably
uncomfortable, his spirit was evidently undimmed. Vaughan said slowly.
"I hope I would. The thing is, you did, and never think people are
going to let you forget it. Your lady, especially."

Diccon closed his eyes. Vaughan thought he slept again and was
preparing to creep out when his friend asked, "Did Ti Chiu come and
help? Or did I dream it?"

"He came. As nearly as we can work it all out, Monsieur Imre
Monteil's one-man brigade met young Arthur while the boy was searching
for Friar Tuck, and took a liking to him. Ti Chiu showed fear when he
ran away from Mrs. Cordova's flying "friends," and by his standards his
honour was besmirched. To restore it he must defeat in battle someone
he respected. Odd reasoning, I grant you. But in the long run it saved
you and the boy. He was the only man could have held up that damnable
beam long enough for us to get to you."

"What you mean is that you risked your neck to crawl in there
and
haul us out. And you've the unmitigated"—Diccon shifted
restlessly—"unmitigated gall to name me a—"

"You see?" interposed Vaughan hurriedly. "You're hurting
yourself
and if I cause you to fall into a fever again my life won't be worth
living, so behave, or I'm off."

"Aye, aye, sir. But I'll thank you, just the same, Joss. No,
don't go—please!"

"All right, all right! Don't fly into the boughs. Two more
questions, is all though, I warn you."

"What about Ti Chiu? Any more sign of him?"

"No. When he trundled off he appeared to think his honour was
restored. Smollet's had men combing the entire area and patrolling the
coast. Monteil's nobody's fool, and likely took ship from some lonely
spot in the west country."

"How has Sir Lionel taken all this? I don't think he's dropped
in to chat."

Vaughan hesitated. Luckily, before he was obliged to answer,
Diccon fell asleep again.

Marietta awoke when Vaughan shook her gently. She had sat down
in
the kitchen for a moment, and dozed off. She sprang up with a
frightened gasp. "What is it? Is he worse again? Is—"

Vaughan smiled and put a finger across her lips. "He's going
on much
better, so Avebury tells us. Smollet has come. He's in the withdrawing
room with Sir Lionel. I thought you might want to see him."

"Yes. Yes, of course." She said nervously, "I must run
upstairs and tidy my hair. You're sure Diccon is all right?"

"Your aunt and the nurse are with him." Vaughan's eyes
twinkled.
"Mrs. Cordova tells me that someone is coming. No, don't start worrying
again. She didn't say it was someone wicked."

She reached out impulsively. "Joss, you've been such a tower
of
strength through this terrible time. I don't know how we would have
gone on without you!"

"I'm glad." He pressed a kiss on her hand. "Because I don't
mean to give you the chance to try."

She gave him a misty smile, then hurried away.

Fanny came in from the scullery, and went to Vaughan, and he
slipped
an arm about her. She said, "It's been almost two weeks. Has he said
anything?"

"No. I've thrown out a few hints and he either pretends to go
to sleep, or changes the subject. I'm afraid…" He frowned.

Fanny said indignantly, "I'm not! He adores her. You know he
does!"

"Oh, yes. And I know him. He has a fierce pride, Fan. Coville
stole
his inheritance and even if that could be proved, the lying bounder
would doubtless claim that it all went on medical costs for Lady
Pamela. All Diccon has left is a good deal of back pay and this estate.
And now, he's lost an arm."

"Poor dear man. But he's taken it so bravely. Not a trace of
despair or self-pity."

"No. But he probably regards himself as a considerably less
than excellent matrimonial prospect."

"What stuff! He saved my dear brother's life! Marietta could
not
wish for a finer husband! Besides, he cannot be penniless, surely? He
must have had a fine return from his free-trading activities?"

"All of which went to pay for his mother's care and her little
house
in Italy. That's the only reason he went back into the trade, you know.
To provide for her."

Mrs. Cordova danced in from the dining room. "You must come!
You
must come! General Smollet has something to tell us!" She danced out
again, singing, " 'Love makes those young whom age doth chill, And whom
he finds young, keeps young still.'"

Curious, Vaughan and Fanny followed her.

In the drawing room, the stocky little general stood with his
back
to the fire, a glass of Madeira in his hand. A thin, blushful lady of
middle age sat in an armchair peeping curiously at the effigies. Sir
Lionel, very proud and haughty of aspect, presented Vaughan and Fanny
to Miss Deerhurst, who blushed fierily and twittered some incoherent
half sentences.

Smollet wrung Vaughan's hand. "I hear you pulled Major Paisley
out of that hell-hole. It was well done, Lieutenant!"

"Thank you, sir. I couldn't have done it without that rascally
Chinese colossus."

"Possibly not, but you did splendidly, just the same." The
General
turned to bow over Marietta's hand as she hurried to join them. "Ah,
we've met before, ma'am. Am I correct in believing you are betrothed to
Paisley? He's a dashed lucky man if that's the case."

From the corner of her eye Marietta saw her father's irritated
scowl. Before he could comment, her chin lifted and she answered, "I
fear you are a little previous, General. But I hope very soon to
confirm your belief."

Smollet blinked and looked somewhat taken aback, but Miss
Deerhurst
dabbed a handkerchief at her eyes and murmured, "Oh, how very
affecting!"

The General's expression softened as he looked at her. "I
think you
are unaware of my relationship to this lady," he said. "I am very proud
to announce that she is soon to become my wife."

There was an outburst of surprise and congratulations. The
ladies
pressed in upon the even more blushful Miss Deerhurst, who twittered
happily. The General jerked his head to Vaughan, and the two men
slipped out.

Beaming, Mrs. Cordova said, "Is it not romantic? And—
we
are responsible, my dears!"

Marietta asked, "How so, Aunt?"

"Why it was my clever brother here who recommended to the
General
that he lodge at Beachy House in Eastbourne. The proprietor chances to
be a friend of Miss Deerhurst, and—"

"And we met at her gate in a most dreadful thunderstorm,"
interposed
Miss Deerhurst excitedly. "We have had such a horrid wet summer this
year, have we not? I slipped on a leaf and was rather shaken, and the
General was so kind. He carried me to my house, and my uncle invited
him to dinner."

"Miss Deerhurst is an exceptional cook," put in Mrs. Cordova
merrily.

"Well, yes, I am, if I say so—" The newly betrothed lady
paused, and
asked in bewilderment, "But how could you know that, ma'am?"

Her eyes dancing, Fanny said mischievously, "Yes. How could
you, Aunty?"

Unabashed, Mrs. Cordova said, "Madame Olympias told me."

"Oh! Do you consult that wonderful lady, also?" Her eyes
alight, Miss Deerhurst said, "She
told
me that this was going to happen! She said a gentleman was going to
come who would change my life, and he has, oh but, truly, he
has!
To think that she would know! She looked into her Magical Window—"

"Mystical Window," corrected Mrs. Cordova absently.

"Yes, that's right. Her Mystical Window Through Time, and—she
knew
!
Isn't it marvellous? She must be indeed a very great mystic!"

All earnest admiration, the newly betrothed lady was rather
offended when Sir Lionel gave a whoop of laughter.

Diccon had been permitted to sit up in a chair on this late
autumn
afternoon. The mellow sunlight slanted across the room and illumined
the voucher in his hand. He blinked at it speechlessly.

Watching him in amusement, General Smollet said, "Too bright
in here, is it?"

Diccon looked up at him uncertainly. "If I seem dazzled,

General, it's because I think there's been a mistake made. I'm
more
than grateful for my back pay, but—Jove! It doesn't amount to this,
surely?"

"Interest," said the General with a bland smile, drawing a
chair
closer. "If ever a man deserved compensation, you do. Prinny's well
aware of your devoted service to your country, and of how often your
life was at risk while your warnings were ridiculed. This is his doing."

"With your prompting, eh, sir? To say thank you, seems
inadequate."

"I accept it, just the same. Now, are you going to wish me
happy?
The old war horse settling down at last, is that what you're thinking?
You're right. I've never had a lady to care for me; to give a tinker's
damn whether I lived or died, or see that my neckcloths were clean, or
my cook capable. And what a run of cooks I've suffered from, Diccon!"
He patted his ample middle and declared, "Indeed, it's a wonder I'm not
a wraith! Well, I've found a lady who must be the best cook in the
world! And who has a kind and gentle disposition. Oh, she's not one of
your beauties, I suppose, but then, neither am I!"