The Riddle of Alabaster Royal Read online

  “She did. And I’ll confess I was tempted to take my horse-whip when I called on Warrington.”

  “Good Lord! You didn’t—”

  “Call on him? Yes. The man’s a fool. He’s whistled most of his fortune down the wind since his wife’s death, and I’ve no doubt the rest will follow. If he’s to send his boys to University and provide for his daughters, he’ll likely have to sell up. Or—Miss Marietta Warrington will have to find herself a rich and indulgent husband.”

  Jack stared at his papers and said nothing.

  “Have you called on her since you came home?”

  “No, sir.”

  “But you did offer, I understand.”

  “Five times.”

  “Indeed! You must be extreme fond! Does the lovely Miss Warrington return your affection?”

  “I—I believe she does. Perhaps not as fully as— But we have both accepted that it is hopeless. Marietta is still under age, but even if she were not, she has a strong sense of duty, and Sir Lionel will have none of me. He has no choice, I suppose. Certainly, I couldn’t provide for the whole family.”

  “No more could I. As you know, my fortune is comfortable, but while it enables us to enjoy the luxuries of life, it would not stretch to support that brood!”

  “I am aware, sir. And the responsibility would be mine—not yours.”

  “Well said! Then so soon as you’re fully recovered, you must start to look about. There are plenty of sensible females who will not be put off by a limp and a few scars. Find a well-dowered wife and we can all live here together very comfortably.”

  ‘Heaven forbid!’ thought Jack. “Perhaps,” he said. “But I’ve a fancy—for a while at least—to just live quietly.”

  “Very quietly! That blasted great barracks of a house would cost a fortune to repair and bring up to style, and another fortune to maintain. You’d need a staff of twenty inside servants at a bare minimum, to say nothing of gardeners, gamekeepers— Now why do you laugh?”

  “Your pardon, Father, but I’ll only require a kitchen and one bedchamber, and I can—”

  “One bedchamber? You’ll take your man and a groom with you, surely?”

  “No, sir. Pence has no taste for country living. At least, that’s what he says. I suspect there’s a pretty parlour-maid lurking in the picture somewhere.”

  “Hmm. I wonder.” Sir Kendrick pursed his lips. “Very well, I’ll send one of the grooms along with you. Don’t be too proud to admit you’re in no condition to care for your hacks.”

  “No, I’ll own that.” Jack took up his cane and limped towards the door, his father and the dogs accompanying him. “But I prefer to hire a local man to serve as groom or major domo. Someone who can acquaint me with the area. And, have no fear, sir. I don’t mean to be a recluse, if that’s what troubles you.”

  “What troubles me,” said Sir Kendrick gravely, “is that you may have no choice. Now go on up and see your mother. She’s waiting for you.”

  * * *

  “I lay the entire horrid business at your brother’s door.” Reclining on a white velvet chaise-lounge in her private parlour, Faith, Lady Vespa, took a scrap of cambric and lace from the bosom of her pink satin negligée and dabbed it at her large blue eyes. She waved her other hand to silence her son’s response and went on, “No, pray do not at once leap to his defence as you always do. Sherborne was my first-born, and I loved him. But he was selfish and inconsiderate and never gave one single thought to the inevitable consequences of his ridiculous escapades. With a fine future ahead of him, he chose to throw it away! When I think of how many disasters he dragged you into…”

  Seated beside the chaise, Vespa argued gently, “Now, Mama, you must not hold Sherry’s patriotism against him. He died bravely, for his country. And as for his pranks, you know he never intended—”

  “Oh, but of course! He never intended that my horse should bolt that day in Hyde Park when he came thundering out of the trees for all the world like one of those dreadful Tartans or whatever they’re called. Had you not ridden to rescue me, I dread to think what might have happened! He never intended that we should lose tutor after tutor because of his silly practical jokes, and reduce my delicate nerves to shreds. He never intended…”

  Jack resigned himself to the inevitable recital of Sherry’s faults, and watched his mother patiently. She really was a fine-looking woman, he thought, and had managed to keep her figure. It was unfortunate that her nature was so pessimistic. She doubtless couldn’t help it, but it was her maudlin tendency to whine, and to dwell upon tragic events and the shortcomings of others, that had long since driven her husband into less tiresome arms. The knowledge that her famous spouse had a mistress only a year or two younger than herself exacerbated Lady Faith’s sense of ill usage. She complained to all who would listen that Sir Kendrick seldom visited his Richmond house, but when he did come she sniped at and reproached him, with the result that his visits became less and less frequent.

  When she removed to Town for the Season, Sir Kendrick was unfailingly sent on ‘a diplomatic mission’ elsewhere. The efforts of friends and family to support her dwindled when they were regaled with long and tearful accounts of the ills of her situation, and even the reminder that she had two fine sons could not alleviate her gloom. Sherborne’s strong resemblance to his father irritated her, and although she would grudgingly admit that her younger son favoured her own side of the family, Jack’s efforts to cheer her usually ended in failure, just as an amused Sherry predicted.

  Bringing her grievances up to date, Lady Faith wailed, “But for Sherborne, you would never have got into the war, you know you would not.” She stretched out a hand to him pleadingly. He had been holding his cane, and discarding it hurriedly, he brushed against a bowl of sweet peas on the table beside her, sending it tumbling to the floor. “Oh, no!” she wailed, ringing the bell for her abigail. “My new bowl! Is it chipped? I so seldom receive gifts any more! Oh, my poor nerves!”

  He rescued the heavy and charmingly enamelled bowl, and scooping the blossoms inside, told her soothingly that it appeared to be undamaged. “It’s a pretty thing,” he said, attempting to turn her thoughts. “From Papa, or one of your cisisbeos, love?”

  “Cisisbeos, indeed! At my age?” Despite the dismissing tone, she looked pleased. Her maid hurried in and brought a towel to wipe up the floor. Jack limped aside and the abigail gave him a sympathetic glance that was not lost upon Lady Faith so that before the door had closed behind the woman she moaned, “My poor boy! Barely able to totter about, and—your face! Whatever will my friends say when they see you?”

  “I hope they won’t faint,” he said with a whimsical grin. “Cheer up, it’s not that bad, surely? And this scar will fade, so the doctors tell me.”

  “Doctors! Who can believe one word those quacks utter? You are thin as a rail and will never regain your full health. Only to think”—the tears started to flow—“of how proud I was when you were small and I would go with Nurse into the park. All the ladies would so admire your curls, and say how much you took after me. And you did, for you have always had beautiful eyes, John, even if they are that unfortunate tawny colour. Sherborne cast everyone into the shade, of course. But you grew into such a good-looking boy. And now…!” Her voice almost suspended, she sobbed, “I can scarce bear to—to look at you!”

  He took a deep breath and said lightly, “Well, you will not be obliged to do so for very long, Mama. I have decided to live down at Alabaster Royal for a while, and—” He drew back, his ears ringing to her horrified shriek.

  “What? You cannot be serious! No, no, you must not! It is a dreadful, dreadful house!”

  “How so? It has walls, and a roof. And it stands in beautiful grounds, so I hear. If it is somewhat run-down, why, walls and ceilings can be repaired.”

  “I do not speak of such mundane things as bricks and mortar!” Lady Faith sat up straight, her face pale and her manner so agitated that he took her outstretched hands and held them
firmly. “It is evil!” she declared, her eyes wide and frightened. “Even as a child I hated going down there in the summer-time. And your dear Grandmama Wansdyke loathed it also. I was never more pleased than when she told my father she would sooner stay in London’s heat! There are spirits, John! Drifting about—everywhere! And that dreadful cat! Ugh!” She shivered. “It was always so … cold! And I saw…” Her voice trailed into silence.

  He said teasingly, “You’re surely not saying you believe in ghosts and goblins and such nonsense?”

  “I am saying I saw something in that horrid old place! Something terrifying. To this day I often wake in a panic, just to recall it. Ah. You choose to laugh at me! So why do I trouble to warn you?”

  “No, really. I only—”

  “Never mind. I am accustomed to being slighted and ignored. It is my lot in life. You are a typical male and will go your own way, no matter what I say, or how my poor nerves are overset. Well, go then, and be done! Abandon me in this l-lonely house w-with no one to care about me!”

  Dismayed, he said, “But Mama, even when I am here, you seldom have time to see me. You have Cousin Eve to keep you company, and all your charities and bazaars and card-parties, and your friends. I’d not thought you were lonely. Perhaps you should move to the town house, where there is so much for you to—”

  “There is no call to pretend you care about poor me,” she declared, dabbing at her eyes again. “Go to your country monstrosity! It is all of a piece. You are every bit as s-selfish as Sherborne was, and so I tell you! When I look back, I wonder why I wasted my youth … c-caring for the pair of you, for all the affection I was given in return. If ever there were ser-serpents’ teeth…”

  Among his friends Captain Jack Vespa had the reputation of managing to surmount any obstacle with cheerful persistence, seldom allowing his temper, which could flare unexpectedly, to get the best of him. He persisted now, soothing his mother’s lamentations and attempting to win her to a happier frame of mind. But in the end, perhaps because by then his head was aching fiercely, he promised to stay by her side for at least another week.

  Sir Kendrick was “called away” that very evening. Solomon and Barrister, of course, escorted him.

  * * *

  Ten days later, Jack rode through the gates of the Richmond house and breathed a sigh of relief. It had not been easy, but he was free at last.

  The word of his return had spread like wildfire, and friends and neighbours had flocked to welcome him home. Lady Faith had been in her element. She had presided over luncheons, teas and dinner parties with the air of an inwardly heart-broken mother struggling gallantly to present a brave face to the world. Her martyrdom, and the sympathetic glances that came his way as she recounted ever more dramatic tales of his narrow escape from death, had tried his patience to the limit. His attempts to leave had been blocked with what he had to admit were superb tactics. He was grateful to those who had come to see him, but that the constant society functions might prove exhausting to a semi-invalid had never seemed to occur to his mother.

  The promised week had stretched to nine days, and yesterday afternoon he’d told her he must depart. She had dismissed this with a merry laugh and a list of upcoming events and invited guests whom he “simply could not” disappoint. He’d done his best to please, but he was beginning to feel worse than when he’d left the hospital, and he was not such a fool as to endanger his health only to provide his mother with an excuse for a continuing round of parties. Accompanying her up the stairs after a particularly tiresome evening, he had told her politely but with determination that he would drive out for Alabaster Royal first thing in the morning. This had precipitated a flood of tears and reproaches, but the fact that Lady Faith had not once enquired as to his own well-being had helped him to withstand her demands, and he had left instructions that his curricle was to be at the door early in the morning, with Secrets, his black mare, tied on behind.

  Lady Faith was nothing if not determined. When he came down to breakfast, he was informed that the curricle would not be available due to the fact that my lady had driven out in it to visit some friends in Purley, but that she would return shortly. In view of the distance involved, this was unlikely, and since her ladyship had never in living memory been known to leave her suite before noon, or to be driven in a sporting coach, there could be no doubt but that this was a deliberate attempt to further delay his departure.

  Irked, he’d ordered out his phaeton, only to be told it was at the wheelwrights. His rare temper had flared and he had instructed his man to fill a valise with immediate necessities and send his curricle and two trunks to Alabaster Royal the following day. The valise had been strapped to the saddle, he had said his farewells to his dismayed and protesting valet, the butler and the housekeeper, and with the aid of an equally dismayed groom had mounted Secrets and ridden out.

  Now, he looked about him, his spirits lightening. The day was bright, with a warm breeze blowing and the old Thames threading like a diamond-studded ribbon through the low, rolling hills. It was England at her best, and as he skirted the town and entered open country he was warmed by the beauty of his native land.

  Like all Wellington’s aides-de-camp, he was a splendid horseman, but he was shocked to find that he now tired quickly. He was obliged to rest at a wayside inn near Farnborough, and not until late afternoon did he reach the outskirts of Andover. He acknowledged to himself that he’d been too sanguine about his state of health, and gave up, taking a room for the night at a pleasant hedge tavern where he ordered dinner sent to his room and fell asleep twice while eating a plain meal of fish soup, roast chicken accompanied by overcooked vegetables, and a gooseberry tart. He grinned drowsily, knowing that Sir Kendrick would have been appalled by such a menu, but compared to the roots and berries that had often been the only food available in Spain, he’d found it satisfactory.

  In the morning he awoke to leaden skies and a chill wind. His injured leg was making it clear that a day in the saddle had been unwise, and getting down the narrow stairs became a painful and difficult task. He was short of breath by the time he reached the ground floor, and much embarrassed to look up and find that two men were watching him narrowly. They were big fellows, fashionably if not elegantly dressed. The taller of the pair smiled sympathetically. Vespa nodded and hurried into the coffee room, knowing that his limp was pronounced, and dreading that he would be the object of all eyes. Fortunately, only one other table was occupied, the elderly lady and gentleman seated there being too involved in low-voiced but fierce bickering to pay him any heed.

  By the time he finished breakfast, he had come to the reluctant conclusion that he must either rest here for another day or hire a coach. He consulted the host, a cheerful little man who had already drawn his own conclusions about this guest. “Home from Spain, are you, sir?” he asked with a kindness that forbade mortification. “Ar, I reckoned as much. I’ll send my youngest over to the Green Duck. It’s a nice house no more’n five miles west of here, and they’ve got a post-chaise for the hiring that’s likely gathering dust. Not what you’re accustomed to, I don’t doubt, but it’ll get you where you’re going, and easier than riding in this weather.”

  It developed that the host had a young cousin who had served with the Fourth Division at the Battle of Salamanca, and while Vespa waited, the two men spent a congenial hour discussing the war in general, and Lord Wellington in particular. A sullen-faced youth arrived at last, with an ill-matched team harnessed to an equipage which had indeed seen better days. The host was embarrassed and said he hadn’t remembered its being quite this shabby, and that perhaps the captain would be better advised to drive into Andover and secure a more suitable vehicle. Jack was eager to reach Alabaster Royal before the sun went down, however, and in no time Secrets was tied on behind and the antiquated chaise rattled out of the yard.

  The miles slipped away, and far from springing his team the postilion had all he could do to keep them to a steady trot. By mid-afternoon t
he weather closed in and the view from the windows was obscured by misting rain. Despite the poorly sprung coach and lumpy cushions, Vespa felt relaxed and drowsy and eventually slipped into a doze.

  He was awoken by an outburst of shouts and curses. Starting up in confusion he thought for an instant that he was back in Spain, but then a large coach loomed up dangerously close to his own. The post-boy screamed with fear and fury. Vespa reached for the window, but he was too late. He had a fleeting glimpse of small, dark eyes in a coarse-featured face that grinned at him from the other coach. A violent shock was followed by screams, a sense of falling, and the swift fading of sight and sound. His last thought was that the man in the big coach was one of the two who had stared at him this morning when he came down to breakfast.…

  2

  He was cold and uncomfortable. His leg was even more painful than usual and his head throbbed so spitefully that he didn’t want to wake up. In addition to all the rest, it was most unfair that he should have this heavy weight on his chest. Reluctantly, Vespa opened his eyes.

  He was lounging about in somebody’s garden, evidently, and it must be getting foggy because it was hard to distinguish who bent over him. He blinked. A remote voice spoke unintelligibly. He began to sort out his unknown companion’s features. It was an odd face. Small, and heavily bearded, and with a long nose that looked almost like— He gave a gasp and opened his eyes wider. A small bedraggled dog was sitting on his chest and peering at him hopefully.