The Riddle of Alabaster Royal (43 page)

They all settled down around the fire, with Corporal at the centre of the circle watching hopefully for scraps. When they were warmer, and appetites and thirsts had been assuaged, Jack could wait no longer. “I am much better, as you see. It's quite safe to tell me. What happened? Did you go to the Horse Guards? What have the authorities done about the horrid mess?”

“Nothing,” said Broderick, answering the last question first. “At least, nothing we're privileged to know. We went first to Bow Street and then to Whitehall, of course, where we were shunted from pillar to post, and it was very clear nobody wanted to touch the business.”

Consuela said darkly, “Constable Blackham's report had likely gone to the very men who were most involved in the scheme!” Her eyes softened. She added, “Except for Colonel Adair, of course.”

Jack frowned slightly. “Who's Colonel—”

“When we found that, as you suspected, there'd been little progress, we went to m'father,” said Broderick hurriedly. “Most sensible gentleman I know.”

Dusting crumbs from his breeches, Manderville nodded. “Which is the reason we didn't go to mine. Good old boy, you know. But not famed for his needle wit.”

“Professor Broderick is
very
learned,” put in Consuela. “Though I must say, Toby, he uses the most dreadful language.”

Broderick sighed ruefully. “'Fraid that's right, m'dear. But he's used to talking to students, you see. I remember one lecture he gave—”

“He took us to his solicitor,” inserted Manderville.

“Who thought we were all gone demented,” said Consuela.

Amused, Broderick nodded. “But he took the case to the Horse Guards again and demanded action, and the very next morning we were all dragged from Claridge's by a troop of dragoons.”

Manderville appended mischievously, “Under the command of Consuela's prize Colonel.”

“He is not my
prize
Colonel,” argued Consuela, her cheeks rather pink. “He was very kind and at least he listened to what we had to say. And he told us their preliminary investigations would almost certainly result in the dismissal of two highly placed civil servants.”

His gaze turning from her heightened colour, Jack exclaimed, “
Dismissals?
Good Lord above! Two murders, at least! Bribery and corruption! A complete indifference to the safety of the residents of an entire village! And all they can achieve is
two dismissals?
”

Manderville said carefully, “This Colonel fella said warrants have been issued for the arrests of old Alperson—”

“Now believed to be in Ireland,” muttered Broderick with a scowl.

“And Gentry—”

“Who took ship for Italy the day after … everything,” said Consuela.

“But they're wanted for questioning, merely,” finished Manderville. “No specific charges. As yet.”

Seething, Jack said, “As yet? Are they waiting for the turn of the century?”

Manderville began to examine his fingernails.

Broderick said uneasily, “Well, ah, the problem is, you see, we avoided naming your, er—”

“And anyway, Professor Broderick's solicitor said we could name no names without we had definite proof—or witnesses,” explained Consuela.

“They seem to feel that a snuff bottle and a bowl and some vanished paintings ain't enough evidence,” said Manderville with a wry look.

Jack said, “Josiah Hawes heard most of it. He's a witness.”

“Not a very reliable one, apparently.” Broderick tossed a morsel of currant bun to the patient Corporal. “After he had the truth from Dicky-Boy, Hawes followed your coach, as you know, but lost it in the downpour. He stopped several travellers and demanded to know if they'd seen you pass, and declared his intention to murder your—er— Well, you know.”

“He's afraid,” said Manderville, “that if there's a full-scale investigation, he'll be accused of just such a deed.”

Jack said in a controlled voice, “Hawes swears they were separated by the floodwaters and that Sir Kendrick was—swept away.”

“Josiah is a poor man,” Consuela pointed out gently, “and known to hold a grudge and have a violent disposition. He'd have small chance of being believed.”

“What about Durward Cramer? He was in it up to his neck.”

“Which got broke in a tavern brawl in Westminster,” said Broderick.

“Jupiter!” muttered Jack, shocked. “He was the weakest link. They must have feared he'd talk out of turn.”

“You may be sure I will testify,” said Consuela with determination.

“And—er, I'm afraid you may have to do the same, Jack,” said Broderick. “Sorry, dear boy. But—there 'tis.”

“Don't be such a clunch,” exclaimed Manderville, revolted. “How can a fellow testify against his own—well, I mean, against the man the world
believes
to be his own—father? He'd be despised by the
ton
for sullying a fine old name, and he'd be damned lucky if he didn't have to leave the country!”

Consuela said fiercely, “Even if his father tried to—”

Corporal burst into a flurry of barking, rushed to the hall door and leapt up and down frantically.

Consuela ran to the window. “Oh, it's Grandmama's coach!”

“Escorted by a whole troop of dragoons by the look of it,” said Broderick, peering over her shoulder.

Many hooves were clattering over the cobblestones.

“And Colonel Adair!” exclaimed Consuela, dancing to the door.

“Be damned,” said Manderville. “Must've followed us from Town!”

The hall was suddenly full of uniforms. Consuela was gushing something about how glad she was to see someone again. A man's voice remarked with predictable inanity that the pleasure was his. Jack tightened his lips and waited. Lady Francesca demanded to know if “Captain Jack” was well enough today to receive “so many visitings”.

The doors were flung wide. Jack was astonished to see that Thornhill—holding a long-handled shoe horn; Harper—armed with a musket; Strickley—hammer in hand; and Peg—gripping a murderous-looking meat cleaver—stood firm in the hall, presenting a united front against the sea of red coats.

Lady Francesca swept in on the arm of a tall colonel who looked too young to have attained his exalted rank.

Preparing to stand, and to dislike this man, Jack was instructed firmly to stay where he was while Colonel the Honourable Hastings Adair was made known to him. The colonel shook his hand, a pair of intensely blue eyes measured him in a swift appraisal, and then glinted smilingly. Bending lower, Adair said, “Very sorry, Captain. But I'll have to request a private word. D'you think you could call off your hound and your faithful retainers? They're frightening my poor fellows to death!”

Jack sighed inwardly, understanding why Consuela was so obviously taken with this gentleman. He was touched to find Broderick standing close to one side of his chair and Manderville equally close to the other.

He said, “Are you here to arrest me, Colonel?”

Adair chuckled. “Gad, I'd not dare! His lordship would have my ears!”

Manderville asked eagerly, “Lord Wellington knows about this?”

“He knows about Captain Vespa,” evaded Adair.

Jack reached out, and Lady Francesca hurried to take his hand and pat it affectionately, saying, “Am I to chase these soldier-boys into the snow, my dear?”

He pressed her fingers to his lips and asked that she instead tell his faithful staff that he was not to be rushed off to the Tower for immediate decapitation, and would appreciate it if the military contingent could be offered refreshments in the kitchen.

Five minutes later, alone with the colonel, he watched Adair sample his Madeira and said, “What are you sent to discover?”

“Everything your friends were so careful not to tell us. For instance, where is your father at this moment?”

His smile a little twisted, Jack said, “I haven't the remotest idea.”

Adair held his glass up and admired the glow of the flames through the tawny liquid. “That won't do, I'm afraid, Captain Vespa. We've already confirmed a good deal of your story, and thanks to your efforts you may be sure there'll be no more talk of locating a subsidiary arsenal here. But we must know the whole. Even if we appear to do nothing with what we learn.”

Jack looked at him thoughtfully. “In confidence? I cannot bring more grief to my mother, you understand.”

One of Adair's dark brows lifted. “A confidence for a confidence,” he said. “I am here officially as a representative of the Horse Guards. Unofficially, I am here at the behest of your C.O.”

“Then Wellington
does
know of this business!”

“Let us say ‘whispers' have a way of reaching his ears.”

“Through his brother, Lord Richard, perhaps?”

Adair smiled. “I didn't say that. At all events, he has a war to win, but he wasn't pleased with some of the whispers, and I was assigned to investigate. Whatever you choose to tell me will, I must warn you, be relayed to him. An—ah—edited version will go back with me to Whitehall.”

Jack was silent through a long, troubled pause. Then, he told Adair everything. When he finished, he was trembling.

Adair took a deep breath, said softly, “My dear God!”, took both glasses to the credenza and refilled them. “You've been in a beast of a pickle,” he observed, handing Jack his glass and restraining the sympathy he felt. “Shall you change your name?”

“I've thought about it. I'd like to. I cannot. It would shame my mother, you see.”

“Yes, of course. It's as well you've decided to let us handle it.”

Jack said ironically, “Is that what I've done?”

Adair nodded. “You'll be kept out of it. At least until we've run Alperson and Gentry to earth. As for Sir Kendrick…” He shrugged.

“He's—dead.”

“Oh, very likely,” said the colonel. “But I'm afraid you won't be able to touch the estate until we're sure.”

“Devil take you!” said Jack angrily. “I've no intention of touching anything to which I evidently have no right! I've an ample inheritance from my mother's parents to which I've
every
right, and that I
will
claim!”

“I see what his lordship meant about your temper,” said Adair, grinning. “Will you strike me if I enquire whether your ‘claim' extends to Miss Jones?”

Fortunately, Lady Francesca chose that moment to hurry in, saying that her patient had been sufficiently tired, and that Colonel Adair had better come and take charge of his men before they ate poor Captain Jack out of house and home.

Much later, when colonel and troop had departed, and an excellent dinner had been enjoyed by Lady Francesca and her granddaughter and the three young men, they were all gathered around the drawing-room fire again.

The wind was blustering about outside and Watts had already been told to prepare the carriage to take the ladies home.

Manderville broke a comfortable silence. “I suppose I must say my farewells,” he said. “Imposed on your hospitality for long enough, Jack, and you'll be anxious to get back to Town, I expect. This house must hold too many memories for— What I mean to say is—er—nothing.”

“Clumsy blockhead,” muttered Broderick. “But he's right, dear boy. Time for us to fold our tents, as it were.” He quoted rather wistfully, “‘When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain?'”

Perched on a footstool beside Jack's chair, Consuela finished the quotation, “‘When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won.'”

With an eye on her granddaughter's pensive face, Lady Francesca said, “I suppose that—it is truth. Your battle was both won—and a little lost. So what do you mean to do with your life now, my Captain? A Town beau, or a country gentleman?”

Vespa stroked Corporal's ear, and said, “A little of both, perhaps. Somebody once said to me that if I had any rumgumption I'd bestir myself to find out who was my real father.”

Consuela gave a start and looked up at him guiltily. “Wicked one! You were listening!”

He laughed. “I had a right. I was the one being scolded.”

“I say!” exclaimed Toby, brightening. “Now
there's
an interesting prospect. You might need intelligent help, old lad!”

“And expert advice,” said Manderville hopefully.

“I thought you'd never volunteer,” said Jack.

He insisted on walking out to the front door with Consuela. Snow was falling lightly, and a full moon shone through the drifting curtain and reflected from the white blanket of the lawns. Corporal rushed about biting at the snow and accumulating a small white pyramid on the end of his nose. Thornhill and the duchess had already reached the coach, and Jack drew Consuela to a halt.

She looked up at him, her eyes very tender, and gazing deep into those dark eyes he knew that this valiant girl had become very dear to him, so that life without her bright presence would be a dull business. He touched her cheek gently. “Consuela, you are very lovely tonight.”

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“I'm not limping so markedly. Had you noticed?”

“Of course. In a week or two you will likely not limp at all. And you are not so thin, indeed you begin to look quite robust, and very like your portrait.”

Surprised, he asked, “What portrait?”

“Oh, dear! The one of you and your brother that hangs in Wansdyke House. Yes, yes, I can see the questions boiling up, but desist. Toby and I called in there, hoping your Mama might be visiting your uncle. She wasn't, of course, but Sir Reginald was most kind, and he gave—er, that is, he gave me permission to see the portrait.”

“Ah.” He said haltingly, “The fellow in that portrait has no right to the name he bears, it seems. Which makes it impossible for him to—in honour, offer it to a lady.”