The Riddle of the Lost Lover (28 page)

His eyes blazing, Vespa turned on her and said through his teeth, “Sit … down and … be quiet!”

Consuela blinked, backed away and sat on the carriage step.

Vespa bent over the fallen. “You swore to me that you would keep her safe! You know what she is! You
swore
you'd not let her run into danger!”

“I had … no choice,” moaned Manderville, feeling his jaw tenderly. “Damn you, Jack, you've cut my lip!”

“Why do you just lie there like a limp crêpe?” demanded Consuela, disgusted. “Why do you not jump up and strike the ingrate?”

“Because half Wellington's army knows about Vespa's right,” he answered without a trace of shame. “He'd just knock me down again. What I should do, of course, is call him out.”

“And what I should do is to cut your feeble heart out,” snarled Vespa. “Where the blazes did you think you were taking her?”

“Taking her?”
The picture of outraged innocence, Manderville sat up, sneezed, and said stuffily, “The chevalier sent me after her when she went tearing off—”

Consuela ran to kneel beside him. “You have taken such a cold, my poor Paige. But what else could I do, after that horrid female called me ‘Captain Vespa's
woman
—'”

“And said you were a trollop,” put in Manderville helpfully.

Taken aback, Vespa demanded, “Why on earth would a well bred and gracious lady like Madame Thérèse—”

“She forgot to be gracious and well-bred when she got wet,” said Consuela tartly.

Manderville grinned. “By Jove, but she did! Wet as a whale! But you'll have to admit, Consuela, if you hadn't giggled—”

“I tried to stop myself,” she said with a remorseful sigh. “But how could I help it with her standing there in half a gown, while the Mayor and the curé and all those other gentlemen gawked at her—er, limbs.”

Vespa gasped in horror, “Gawked—at—
what?
Oh, egad! Whatever did you do to the poor lady?”

“I did
nothing,
” snapped Consuela, scowling at him.

“It came on to rain, you see,” explained Manderville. “Madame Thérèse was wearing a charming woollen dress—”

“And—it shrank,” said Consuela.

“And—
shrank,
” wheezed Manderville.

“Up … and up…” squeaked Consuela, overcome.

For all the world like two naughty children they clung together at Vespa's feet, laughing helplessly. Watching them, his wrath faded. He sat down on the hay bale. “All right, you two rascals. Tell me the whole.”

He could not restrain a chuckle when the tale was told and, knowing his lady's mercurial temperament, he could understand her indignation.

“It's too late to change now,” he said to Manderville. “But why—once you'd come up with her, did you not take her back to the château?”

Consuela said stubbornly, “Because I would not go! And besides, I was so worried about you, Jack.” She reached out and he pulled her to her feet. Touching his cheek anxiously, she said, “And I was right, do you see, Paige? Only look at his poor bruised face.”

Vespa hugged her tight. “Are you surprised, after beating me so mercilessly with that murderous umbrella?” She smiled and leaned to him. She was soft and yielding in his arms. Gazing down at her, he forgot all about danger and disgrace and jewelled carpets, until an angry shout outside brought him back to earth. Reluctantly, he put her from him, and said, “But it was well done, little meadowlark, and properly fooled our pompous sergeant, I think.”

“Then I am glad I was such a shrew. We have told you why I ran away, Jack. Now I want to hear what happened to you.”

He gave them a brief account of his journey. “They're not amateurs,” he said, holding up the torn cape of his cloak. “This was skewered by a crossbow bolt.”

Consuela clung to his hand and said in a shaken voice, “Merciful heaven!”

Manderville's brows went up. “There's a bounty on spies. D'you think that's what they're after?”

“I do not. I think there are several interested groups. Monteil, we know about; the fellow on the black horse, who keeps his distance but is definitely tracking me; two men riding dapple-grey horses, who question travellers about Kincraig; and another three, two of whom are hirelings, and the third—the unkind Mr. Duncan Keith, who has instructed his man with the crossbow to shoot straight next time!”

“Jupiter! Your half-brother?”

“He apparently believes that to be so. Though what he stands to gain by my death, I've no notion.”

He went to the door and peered through a crack in the weather-beaten boards. The trooper stood guard, augmented by a farm-hand with a long-tined hay fork. He and Manderville could probably overpower the pair without much trouble, but then the hunt would be up, and Consuela deeply involved. “Monsieur Corporal,” he called. “My lady is anxious to be on her way. We must—”

“You must do as the sergeant orders,” interrupted the corporal harshly. “If you and your mistress are placed under arrest, you will be taken to the barracks at Rennes.”

“Confound it,” muttered Vespa. “I
must
get on!”

Consuela said remorsefully, “Were it not for me, you would slip away and find Lord Kincraig. Well, you go, Jack. Paige will take care of me, and—”

“And who's to take care of Paige?” demanded Manderville. “If you mean to abandon us, Jack—”

“As if I would, you great gudgeon. Now tell me how you contrived to pass me by. You must have made excellent speed.”

“For one thing we had a pair of horses, and we didn't have to lurk about and avoid roads, as you did.” Manderville chuckled. “Consuela was really splendid as the arrogant Italian
grande dame,
and had everyone bowing and scraping.”

“I believe that,” said Vespa, lifting her willing hand to his lips. “Thoroughly enjoyed your charade, did you not, my rascal? But how did you know where I was?”

“We knew you would most probably ride towards Rennes,” she replied, “so we went straight to the city and made enquiries for the Crazy Carpet Man. Every child in the area seems to know him. It was the children who told us he'd gone to St. Just, so we left the city on that road, guessing you'd follow the same path.”

Manderville put in, “Good thing you come up when you did. That confounded sergeant was within Ames-ace of flat-out arresting us.”

“Yes, and if he were under my command he'd be a private! He was so interested in the bottle I'd brought that he made no effort to verify
my
identity. What a blockhead!”

Consuela said with a saucy glance, “You should thank your stars that blockhead did not know any Italian, Captain Jack!”

“I thought you looked hilarious when I came up,” he said. “Doesn't
mi perdoni
mean ‘beg pardon' or something of the sort?”

“It means ‘will you forgive me?'—which was quite
convenable.
But when you said that you were
chicchi-richi
— Oh, my poor Jack! How I kept my countenance I do not know!”

Manderville asked curiously, “Why? What did he say?”

“Jack said he was—” she gave a choke of mirth “—he said he was ‘cock-a-doodle-doo!'”

Manderville howled, and Vespa clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned that he'd never live it down.

A familiar voice was raised. “If you are finished with your quarrelling, may I please have something to eat? I'm fairly starved.”

They all whipped around.

Standing beside the boot of the carriage, Pierre de Coligny watched them hopefully.

12

“Why should I not run away?” Pierre said with defiance, “Miss Consuela did. She knows what it is like there! Madame, who is not my
Maman,
hates her. As she hates me.”

“Your poor Papa will be frantic,” said Consuela, dispensing with insincere reassurances.

Vespa said, “And searching for you.”

Frowning, Manderville nodded. “And if he blames us, as he probably will, he'll likely tell the authorities who we are and we'll have every soldier and policeman in France after us!”

“I doubt that,” argued Vespa. “Too many people know we were his guests. De Coligny would incriminate himself. Consuela, you and Paige must take Pierre home.”

“No!” said Consuela, Manderville and Pierre, emphatically and in unison.

“You've got too many enemies,” Manderville declared.

Consuela pointed out, “You may need help. And how can Paige drive me back to the château, when we've told this silly sergeant I am returning to Italy and my Grandmama?”

“In which case, you should be turning east,” said Vespa worriedly. “You are heading towards Spain, rather!”

“I wish you will all stop arguing and find me something to eat,” complained Pierre.

There arose a sudden flurry of shouts and activity outside. Manderville made a wild leap onto the box of the carriage and Consuela scrambled inside. Pierre ran for the barn door, and Vespa caught him just as it was thrown open.

The sergeant stamped inside and halted abruptly, staring at the boy. “Hello, hello, hello! What's all this?”

“I am the farmer's son,” lied Pierre. “And these bad people have kidnapped me.”

His accent gave him away. The sergeant said with a chuckle, “Oh, ho! You'll not hoax me with such a tale, fierce one. Your talk is more of Paris than St. Just, and those clothes on your back were never worn by a poor Breton farmer's brat.”

Vespa met his enquiring glance and said, “He is Lady Consuela's nephew, sir, and she fetches him from his school in Paris to see his great-grandmama.” He added, low-voiced, “He's a rare handful!”

“This I can see.” The sergeant's gait was slightly erratic as he moved closer. “Well, he comes by it honestly, I'd say. Now—” he hiccupped, and then called, “Are you awake, Lady Signoriny? I'll have the truth of it all, if—if you please.”

There was a strong aroma of brandy on his breath. Vespa gave a mental cheer. His little ploy with Jules' bottle had born fruit. If the fellow was half-foxed, he'd be easier to outwit.

Consuela said, “Leonardo, what have you been telling the sergeant?”

“My name is not Leonardo!” Pierre scowled. “It is—”

“Come, that's no way to talk to your aunt,” scolded the sergeant, wagging a finger under his chin.

“If you had but half a brain in your head—” began Pierre haughtily.

“Be still!” said Consuela, frowning at him. “You have my apologies, Sergeant. My nephew is rude.”

“He is young, madame.” The sergeant rocked on his heels and gave Pierre an indulgent smile. “I didn't know you'd a boy with you. I've sons of my own. Four. And scamps, every one. Now, I feel sure we can come to a quick resolution of our problems. Tell me, young Leonar-ardo. What is the full and real name of this lady, and where do you live?”

Vespa held his breath and from the corner of his eye saw Manderville preparing to leap from the box.

Pierre folded his arms across his chest and said heroically, “I shall tell you nothing, my good fool. Lead me to Madame Guillotine!”

The sergeant's jaw dropped. Then, with a shout of laughter he turned to Vespa. “You were right,
mon ami.
He's a handful. Since you are the Lady Signoriny's servant, you
assurement
can confirm for me her full name and where is her home.”

“She is the Lady Consuela Carlotta Angelica of Ottavio, sir. And I escort her to her grandmother, the Lady Francesca, Duchess of Ottavio.”

“
Bon!
” The Sergeant snapped his fingers. “At long last we arrive at the answer. So you may be upon your way, and I can get to my own fireside. Do you see how simple it is, Lady Signoriny? Had you but told me the truth to begin with…” He clicked his tongue, shook his head at her, and reeled from the barn.

*   *   *

Vespa was inclined to believe Pierre's claim that Madame Thérèse had no love for him. He was sure however, that the chevalier was deeply fond of his son, and he was troubled by the awareness that the poor fellow was probably frantic with anxiety. Even if de Coligny did not at once guess that Pierre had run away, he would certainly by this time have instituted a thorough search. Vespa liked and respected the Frenchman and, under normal circumstances, he would not have hesitated an instant before turning about and taking both Pierre and Consuela back to the château. But the circumstances were far from normal, and he was torn between the need to catch up with Lord Kincraig and his responsibility for the safety of Consuela and the boy.

To an extent she was correct in believing herself protected by her Italian heritage and, if she was apprehended again, the chances were that at worst she would be ordered to leave the country. But if he and Paige should be challenged and it was revealed that she was travelling with two British officers it would be a very different story. The possible outcome made the sweat start on his brow.

As they left the barn and turned onto the road once more, Manderville watched him and called ironically, “Second thoughts,
monsieur le capitaine?
Justified. If we keep on this road much longer you're unlikely to persuade anyone that we're bound for Italy.”

“What do you suggest?”

“When we started this journey you told me that your first concern was for Consuela's safety. If you really meant it, we should at once make a dash for the château. That, or turn east towards the Franco-Italian border.”

Irritated, Vespa said, “Do talk sense! Every minute we're in France we run the risk of discovery. To travel clear across the country would be madness. And you know very well that to attempt to cross the Alps in winter is unthinkable.”