The Riddle of Alabaster Royal (14 page)

“You were certainly with them when I found you.”

“This, it was because I saw them. I was watching from my window, for I know that evil men come here and—” She broke off. “Ah, the dear little thing! See how they have hurt him, and he came so heroically to my rescue!”

Corporal limped into the room, holding up a front paw and whining.

Vespa swore under his breath and picked up the animal gently. “My poor fellow! Let me see.”

“It is that
I
shall see. Not you!” Two small hands attempted to remove Vespa's hold.

“He's my dog!” he protested, swinging Corporal away. “I will care for him, thank you just the same.”

“You! What do men know of caring—for anyone? How to fight and eat, and drink too much—
that,
men know!” She flashed her eyes at him and said darkly, “Besides other things which I am too much the lady to speak of, but that male animals lust after twenty-four hours of the day! You did not even care enough to think of him till now!”

“Of all the—I'll remind you that I was caring for
you,
Miss Graceless! I would certainly—”

“You rang, sir?” Thornhill rushed into the room, a tasselled nightcap on his head, a startling red and purple dressing-gown wrapped about him, and a great blunderbuss clasped in his hands. He checked, looking from the disarrayed Consuela to his employer's torn garments. “Ah—perchance I come, ah—inopportunely.”

Vespa said tersely, “Restrain your imagination! Miss Consuela was attacked by would-be burglars. Wake Lady Francesca and desire her to come down here. Then take a lamp into the cellar and find some way to secure the outer door—or doors. You'd best keep that monstrous weapon by you. I believe they've gone, but they're a vicious pair.”

Thornhill scanned him uncertainly. “Are you all right, sir?”

Consuela peered into Vespa's face anxiously. “You are damaged? Where? Here? Here?” Her hands were probing his shoulders and arms. “Why do you not speak? Are you a Spartan, or keeping the stupidly stiff upper lip?”

“I am not—Ow!”

“Ah. It is the shoulder. Oh, my! Look here.”

“Good Gad, madam!” exclaimed Vespa, attempting to pull away. “Keep your hands to— Stop it, woman! I'm perfectly—”

“Consuela!” The duchess hurried into the room clad in a voluminous gold wrapper, her hair rolled up in little rags all over her head so that she put Vespa in mind of a latter-day Medusa. “Whatever are you doing to the Captain? And in your night-rail! Have you
no
sense of propriety? I declare I was never more shocked!” She glanced at Vespa and her indignation was replaced by alarm. “My heavens! What on earth has been happening here?”

Consuela suddenly burst into tears and rushed into her grandmother's arms. “Oh, dearest, it was ghastly! They tried to … murder me!”

Vespa snapped, “Thornhill, do as I bade you. Now!”

Thornhill hurried out.

The duchess drew Consuela to the sofa and held her close. “Were you spying again, my wilful child?”

Scattering teardrops, Consuela nodded. “It was two men, this time. I saw them creep around to the back of the house, and I followed. And they—they went into the
cellar!
And—and, it
smelled
—oh, foul!”

“You might well have been killed,” said Vespa, sitting down with Corporal on his lap and examining the damaged paw.

“Wretched girl!” exclaimed the duchess, shaking Consuela gently. “Did I not tell you to come at once to me if ever you saw something of auspicious? How fortunate that I have ask St. Peter to keep his eyes on you! Have they hurt you?”

“They caught me, dear G-Grandmama. And they tried—they tried to
strangle
me! See!”

The duchess inspected the welts on her granddaughter's throat and turned pale. “The villains! My sweet little one! Oh, but I should spank you for being so foolhardy!”

“If your granddaughter had but roused me, ma'am,” put in Vespa, feeling very much to blame, “there'd have been no need for her to suffer such harsh treatment. I've pistols and ammunition, and I am perfectly capable of—”

“Had I taken the time to make my way to your bedchamber and interrupt your snoring, and assure you I had no improper designs upon your body—”

“Consuela!” exclaimed the duchess.

“Well, he would have thought it,” said Consuela sulkily. “And by the time I enlisted his help—
if
he had believed me, which I doubt—they would have been half-way to London with their booty.”

Vespa said, “I doubt there's much in the way of booty in my cellar. Strickley already unpacked the silver and linens that were locked away down there. I fancy they were simple thieves.”

“If they are thieves,” argued the duchess, “no matter what you say, Captain, there must be something very valuable in your house. This is the third time Consuela has seen men lurking about at night.”

“Strickley says he's chased away some varmints during the daylight,” admitted Vespa thoughtfully.

“Just so,” said Consuela, holding her throat, but speaking in a less shaken voice. “The men Strickley saw came here to ransack the house. The men
I
saw came here with one purpose only. To silence me. Just as they s-silenced my darling Papa!”

“If that were the case,” argued Vespa, “they would have come in by the south side door, and gone upstairs; not broken into my odiferous cellar. Besides, what do you know of them that you must be silenced?”

“My father knew, and they may think that he told me.”

Vespa stared at her. “He
knew?
What, exactly?”

“I don't
know.
” She gave a moan of exasperation. “But they killed him because of it!”

“Lord, give me strength,” he muttered. “Ah, Thornhill! Any sign of the varmints?”

Thornhill shook his head. “But a most obnoxious odour, sir. I barricaded the outer doors. And I found—this.” He held up a small pocket pistol.

“You see?” shrilled Consuela, clinging to her grandmother. “I was to be murdered in my bed!”

“Then you will be very well advised to deny me the benefit of your parlour-maid expertise and return to your own home, post haste.” Vespa stood and tucked Corporal under his arm. “In the meanwhile, I suggest you go back to bed. First thing tomorrow morning I'll report our murderous intruders to Constable Blackham.”

“You will waste your time. He is a foolish man! I have told him and told him about my dear Papa, and he smiles and says kindly that I am to be brave! Pah! He will do nothing! I learned long ago that if anyone is to ferret out the truth about my father's murder, it will be me! Now”—Consuela crossed to stand close before him, her eyes very soft—“you will permit that I shake your hand and express my thanks for your very brave charge to the rescue.”

It had been more of a hop and skip than a charge, he thought wryly, but she had never spoken to him so kindly. Gazing into her piquant little face, he saw the bruising on her throat and rage seared through him. How
dared
they abuse a lady in his house! “I wish I'd come sooner,” he said, reaching for her outstretched hand.

“So do I.” She whipped Corporal from his relaxed hold. “But this one did, and I will repay him as best I may.” She eluded Vespa's snatch and darted behind Lady Francesca, who had also risen. “Good-night, Captain!” she trilled.

“You are a scamp, Miss Consuela,” said Vespa.

*   *   *

There were no further alarms in the night. Next morning, Thornhill brought a ewer of hot water to Vespa's room, together with the information that poor Miss Consuela was “a trifle indisposed,” but that Manning was assisting the duchess in the kitchen. As a result of their efforts, Vespa enjoyed a hearty breakfast. Later, Thornhill impressed him by setting out his blue riding coat with not a crease in sight, a snowy shirt, three equally snowy neckcloths—“Just in case you might require more than one attempt, sir”—and a spotless pair of cream buckskins.

Before he went downstairs, Vespa handed the valet a bank draft with instructions that he was to order himself a new wardrobe. “Suitable for a gentleman's gentleman.”

Thornhill's dark eyes opened very wide and flew to search his face. He said eagerly, “Then—then can it be that you really mean to keep me on, sir? I've not dared hope.…”

“I think we shall go along nicely.”

Glancing down at the draft, Thornhill gave a gasp. “But—such a sum, Captain! Are you sure—I mean, well, you scarcely know me!”

Vespa smiled. “I called you a rascal, but I've come to think you're an honest rascal, and if you're to stay on as my valet, you must look the part, you know.”

“I wish—” Thornhill sounded close to tears. “I don't know what to say. That you'd be willing to take a chance on me— It means so much more than … than you can know.”

“I have my consequence to consider,” said Vespa, with a twinkle. “My father is a stickler, Thornhill. Were he to visit and consider my man not up to snuff—” He shuddered realistically, and when the valet gave him a misty-eyed look and tried to smile, he patted him on the shoulder, and warned, “Never think I'm an easy master. I rely on you to find me an excellent staff, which won't be easy. And if my coaches and my trunks don't arrive soon, you are going to get very tired of restoring these poor overworked garments. Now, I must hurry and report to our good Constable.”

Thornhill ran to open the door. “I won't let you down, Captain Vespa,” he promised hoarsely. “I swear it! You—you give me back my self-respect. God bless you, sir!”

The morning was overcast and blustery, and after an exhilarating ride, Vespa reached Gallery-on-Tang feeling quite ready to face the world. Two fine coaches were drawn up at the inn, and a boy was chasing a wind-driven hat along the street, a well-dressed gentleman urging him on.

Constable Blackham was chatting with Young Tom in the smithy, and having exchanged cordial greetings with the sturdy blacksmith, Vespa was able to persuade the officer of the law to accompany him to the Gallery Arms. The small dining room rang with the laughter and talk of the travellers, but Ditchfield led the two men to a side table, saying softly that here they would have some privacy. They ordered a pot of coffee, and as the host went off, Blackham said shrewdly, “That's a nasty bruise under your ear, Captain. Trouble?”

“You don't miss much, do you? Yes. We had a break-in at Alabaster last night.”

Blackham sat up straighter. “And you tackled the rogue, did you, sir? Any hope that you have him locked up for me?”

“No. And you can make that plural; Londoners, unless I mistook their accents. I didn't see them well enough to be able to recognize them again, more's the pity. It was too dark. Have there been any strangers lurking about?”

Blackham waited while Mrs. Ditchfield brought their coffee, and then answered, “None that I do know of, sir. But if they'd robbery in mind, they'd likely stay least in sight.” He took out a notebook. “Can you tell me more of it?”

Vespa gave him the few details he knew, omitting all mention of Consuela until the finish, when he said, “I understand that Miss Jones has seen men lurking about Alabaster on several occasions.”

“Aye. So she claims. The poor young lady has it set in her mind that her father was done to death deliberate.” The constable shook his head. “There's nothing to show that was the case, but she upsets herself worrying at it, besides doing just what her father done—wandering about where she's no business going. I warned her repeated, but—not meaning to give offence, mind—she's a stubborn woman, and don't like listening to the advice of them as knows better'n she do.”

After a pause, Vespa said slowly, “What baffles me is why anyone should bother to break into my house. Now, I mean. It sat empty for two years, at least. If they were after the silver, why didn't they break in then?”

“Might not've been in the neighbourhood then, sir. You said they sounded like Londoners. 'Sides, they might not've been after the silver. There's some fine old pieces of furniture in the manor. Though I'd've said no one would go in after 'em at night. Even Londoners.”

“Well, they did. And I know the place has been ransacked by daylight. I myself ran off Sir Larson Gentry and some of his hirelings when I found them slithering about inside the manor.”

“My Lor'!” His eyes very round, Blackham gasped, “Sir Larson
Gentry,
sir? But what would he want with—” He broke off as Vespa's eyes lifted to meet his own. “What I means is … If ever I heard of such a thing!” He stared hard at the cruet and asked carefully, “Was there—er—anyone else about at the time, Captain?”

“His own men. And Hezekiah Strickley came up after a while.”

The constable pursed his lips. “Ar. Strickley. He, er, works for ye, don't he, Captain?”

“Yes. So his word would be unreliable, is that it? I did
not
imagine the business, Constable!”

“No, sir! Oh, no. I never thunk— That is—ah, does ye want to press charges?”

Clearly, the officer of the law was convinced he was mentally unstable. Gritting his teeth, Vespa said tartly, “I am scarcely in a position to do so. Even if I could prove what I say, Gentry claimed he was returning a desk that he'd borrowed from my grandfather.”

“Now I must say as
that
ain't likely! First off, your Grandpa's furnishings is not— Ah, what I means is—”

“Don't hide your teeth, man! Sir Larson's home is in the first style of elegance, I understand, and my furnishings are too old and out of the current style to have charmed him. Correct?”

The constable looked miserable. “More'n that, Captain Vespa. Sir Rupert Wansdyke, your Grandpa, sir, had no use for Sir Larson. Wouldn't allow him to set foot on Alabaster Royal, much less loan him so much as a teaspoon!”