Strange Capers (3 page)

By four o’clock, our nerves were stretched taut. There was nothing more to be done but prepare our own toilettes. I had some trouble finding what I wanted in my new room, for my belongings were thrown helter-skelter on the bed and chairs. At least the gowns were hanging in the clothes-press, and I went to select one. Despite my hazel eyes, Rachel has approved of my wearing light blue. It is my favorite color, and my blue silk is my favorite outfit for an elegant evening at home. It has a low neckline and is embellished with a bit of Mechlin lace and velvet ribbons. Besides a deal of trinkets, my jewelry box holds two necklaces. One is a small strand of pearls, from my grandmother, the other is an even smaller set of sapphires and diamonds. Rachel calls the stones “chips,” but they are so cleverly set in gold that they look larger than chips. I fastened the sapphires around my neck and stood back to admire the effect.

I brushed my hair till it shone, then arranged a wave to fall forward on the left side and scooped the rest of it up on the back of my head in the basket style. It looked well, but, to impress Aiglon, I decided it wasn’t quite grand enough and hence entwined the pearl necklace amidst the basket of curls. This done, I went to Rachel for her approval. She nodded and handed me her bottle of perfume. One of the small perquisites of living with her was that I was allowed to use her perfume when we entertained or went out.

I noticed an old book sitting on her dressing table. Its title was
An Anecdotal History of Folkestone and Environs.

“Is that the book you bought for Aiglon?” I asked, looking at it.

“I’ve changed my mind about giving it to him. It smells musty and the pages are all spotted,” she said, and whisked it into a drawer. “What do you think of this, Rachel?”

My attention was distracted immediately by her latest theft. There, hanging from her ears and looking for all the world like monstrous diamond drops, were two pendants from the crystal chandelier lamps Willard had polished yesterday. I could only gasp in admiration of her cunning.

“Rachel, you really
are
up to all the rigs!” I laughed.

“You must make yourself a pair, too, Constance, but we shan’t both wear them at the same time. Be sure you take them from the inner side of the lamps. They’ll never be missed. I took mine from the lamp by the door, so you get yours from the other one.”

“Aiglon will think they’re diamonds and won’t be so generous in future,” I warned.

“Generous?” she asked, staring. “It is news to me if running this shambles of a place for one hundred pounds a year is generosity!”

“A hundred pounds! You never told me he
paid
you!” I gasped.

A pink blush suffused her face. She hadn’t meant to reveal that fact, and if I had had my wits about me, I would have realized she was quite upset. In retrospect, I wonder if she carefully chose the moment of revelation to put that book, which she had so swiftly shuffled into her drawer, out of my mind. I wouldn’t put it past her.

“It doesn’t begin to cover the expenses,” Rachel said, and arose. But I knew the expense of the servants was covered separately from this salary. “We shall have a glass of wine before dinner. I hope he comes on time,” she continued, dismissing the former topic. “His note said he’d be here for dinner. I daresay he will he expecting city hours, but he shan’t find them here.”

As we descended the stairs the view of the front hall was unusually fine after all our hard work. The old marble floor shone, and the lamps twinkled cheerfully, casting a glow on the woodwork and gilt frames. This seemed to put Rachel in a good mood.

“Perhaps we’ll have
one
party while Aiglon is with us,” she said. “It seems a shame not to show off our work to the community. We owe Lord Ware an invitation, and the Wigginses—any number of people.”

I was already excited by the approaching visit of Aiglon. I peered hopefully into the near future and envisioned a whole new style of life, with parties and beaux. We discussed the party while awaiting Aiglon’s arrival. After fifteen minutes, we had settled the guest list and menu.

After half an hour, we had taken our second glass of wine and begun to lose interest in the party. The talk now was of overdone meat and whipped cream that had begun to return to liquid. As the sun’s rays lengthened and grew weak, Rachel more than once mentioned eating without Aiglon. She wouldn’t do it, of course, but she seemed to take some satisfaction in making the threat. “I’ve never been so hungry in my life,” she said wearily.

Then it happened. We discerned a distant thud of hooves and darted to the window. Soon a few moving dark spots—horses or carriage—showed above the thornbushes that guard the road, and before long the horses came into view. It looked and sounded like a whole herd of animals.

“Good God, I swear there weren’t less than a half dozen horses pounding by the window!” Rachel squealed. “Does he expect me to stable
six
horses?”

Aiglon didn’t stop at the front door but drove directly to the stable and entered the house via the kitchen. The glory of shining marble and polished chandeliers would not be his first impression of her housekeeping after all. What he would see was Meg in the kitchen surrounded by pots and pans. Rachel refused to budge until he came to her. Her nose was nearly pulled into her mouth by the time his tread was heard coming along the hall toward the saloon.

The door opened and a well-knit young gentleman, outfitted in the highest kick of fashion, glided into the room. His dark hair was carefully clipped in the stylish Brutus do. His face was lean and rather tanned, the nose well-sculpted but hawkish, giving him a predatory air. His eyes were dark, their color not distinguishable in the shadows of the saloon, but they glittered, and darted about from myself to Rachel to the window. I noticed he wore a well-cut jacket of blue Bath cloth, and at his neck was a pristine maze of intricate folds and creases that shone immaculately white. He had Rachel’s knack of remaining elegant even during travel. There wasn’t a wrinkle in his faun trousers, and considering the rain, his Hessians were remarkably shiny.

The apparition advanced toward me, hand extended, with a smile lifting the corners of his lips. “Cousin Rachel, delighted to see you again. How long has it been? Over a decade, I warrant. You look lovely as usual.”

“I am not Rachel!” I exclaimed, mortified to have been mistaken for a forty-year-old dame.

Rachel’s thin laugh floated on the air. “Pay him no heed, Constance. Aiglon is playing off one of his little jokes. He is a famous jokesmith,” she said, not displeased with this particular effort. “Come here and kiss your cousin, you rogue,” she commanded easily.

Aiglon made a show of embarrassment and confusion, but there was a spark of mischief in those dark eyes. He bestowed a peck on Rachel’s arid cheek and then returned his attention to me. “And this would be Miss Bethel,” he said, extending his hand.

“Pethel,” I corrected.

“Quite. A relative of Sir John, I believe?”

“Yes, he was Mama’s brother.”

“It is kind of you to bear Rachel company. Are you making a long visit?”

“Yes, rather. I live here,” I replied.

Aiglon seated himself on the far end of my sofa, halfway between Rachel and myself.

“A glass of wine, Aiglon? Tell us all the news from London. How is your dear mama?” Rachel asked. She filled a glass of wine from the side table and handed it to him.

“She was enjoying a fit of vapors when I left.”

“She should have come with you. The sea air would do her any amount of good,” Rachel said.

“She prefers the smoke and fog and clamor of London. I am the one who seeks respite from it.”

“And is that why you’re here, to rest and take the sea air?” Rachel inquired politely. “You look stout enough to me, I must say. What is the trouble, Aiglon?”

“The lungs,” he answered readily, and gave a little cough to bolster this claim to invalidism. “But I am by no means a bed-case. I’ve brought a few mounts to do some riding. In fact, I drove my curricle down, and my grooms are bringing my traveling carriage behind me. I hope my stable here can accommodate eight extra nags.”

“Eight!”
Rachel exclaimed in horror. “I thought it was only six. I mean, six,” she corrected, for she didn’t wish to give the notion that even six were acceptable.

“Yes, only eight,” he agreed. “But you must not think I mean to be a burden to your people. I brought my own grooms and valet and footmen to attend to my needs. I shall be very little bother to you, Cousin.” He smiled blandly at the end of this awful revelation.

“How many? Grooms and footmen, I mean?” Rachel asked, her face blanching.

“Just a couple of grooms and two or three footmen. I hadn’t realized Thornbury was so small, or I could have made do with one groom.”

“Yes, it is very small,” she told him, hinting that he might still return the excess staff to London.

His next speech showed me that Rachel had met her match. “Then I shall write to Riddell and tell him not to come. I don’t want to be any trouble to you at all.”

His expectant face said as clearly as words that he anticipated praise for his consideration, perhaps even a polite insistence that Riddell come by all means.

“Unless your man of business enjoys sleeping in the cellar, you had best not ask him to come” was Rachel’s reply. It was delivered in faint accents. The fight had been shocked out of her for the moment.

There was a little edge returning to her voice when she continued speaking. “I don’t want to rush you, Aiglon, but dinner has been waiting an age. We keep country hours here.”

“Dinner? I couldn’t eat a bite. I am fagged after the trip and shall retire now for the night. Perhaps a cup of broth in my room in about an hour. I could eat no more. Tomorrow I shall look forward to trying some of the local seafood.”

“Just as you like, Aiglon,” Rachel replied, perfectly livid around the mouth from her efforts to control her spleen.

“Thank you so much. I don’t want you to go to any special trouble for me. Will you have the servants bring me up plenty of hot water for a bath now? Oh, and there is just one other thing. I am rather a light sleeper. If you could keep the noise down tonight and in the early morning, I would appreciate it. You don’t keep a rooster, I hope?”

“Of course we keep a rooster! How shall we have any increase in the henhouse without a rooster?” She was vexed into replying.

“Pity.”

“You won’t hear it if you keep your window closed,” she said through thin lips.

“I always sleep with my window open. I came for the sea breezes.” He arose languidly and sauntered toward the door. “Ah, there is just one other thing,” he exclaimed, turning back to Rachel.

She stiffened in preparation for some new outrage but said nothing, and Aiglon spoke on. “I have a small favor to request. It won’t cost you a penny,” he added, unable to quite control some little unsteadiness of his lips. “I would prefer you not tell anyone I am here. If I am seen driving about the countryside, as I probably shall be, you might say that your cousin, Lance Howell, is visiting you for a month or so.”

“A month!” she asked, staring, and forgot to be angry at the bizarre request he had made.

“More or less.”

“But why do you want to use your name rather than your title?”

“Why, to tell the truth, Cousin, my visit here is a secret,” he answered reasonably.

“A secret from whom?”

“From the law. There is a little matter of murder that I am currently involved in,” he explained calmly.

“You are wanted for murder?” she asked, nonplussed, as I was myself.

“I am wanted in that regard, yes.”

“Aiglon, are you brazenly standing there and telling me you killed a man in cold blood?” she asked, her voice trembling. It takes a good deal to make Rachel tremble.

“No, no, of course not. It was done in hot blood—a duel,” he explained as though that were justification enough.

Then he made a graceful bow to his cousin, another to me, and sauntered out of the room and toward the stairs. Within seconds there was a loud thumping as his foot became entangled in the newly laid carpeting. A curse rent the air.

Rachel jumped up to go to his aid, and I followed her. Aiglon was pushing at the bellied carpet with his toe. “There is something amiss here,” he said, frowning.

“It is newly laid—the workmen did shoddy work. I shall call them back to fix it,” Rachel said hastily.

“Newly laid? But why did you have a spotty old carpet put down?” he asked. “You should have bought a new piece while you were about it.”

She rushed on to distract him, no doubt relieved that he hadn’t taken the time to glance at her note to Riddell. “Aiglon, about this secrecy business you mentioned. I have already told a few people you are coming. The fact will be well known in the countryside by now. You should have told me it was a secret when you wrote to me. I really think the best thing would be for you to dart on to Westleigh immediately.”

“That’s the first place they’ll look for me,” he answered. “No one knows I even own this little place. It’s a pity you announced my arrival, but you can always claim I didn’t get here after all. If the Bow Street Runners show up, I may have to leave, but I wouldn’t expect to see them for a few days yet.”

As he spoke, his eyes went from her dangling pendant earrings to the lamps in the hall, comparing the design. “You will rehang those crystals when you’re through with them, won’t you, Cousin? I know you take excellent care of Thornbury for me. I look forward to touring the house tomorrow and seeing all the pretty new carpets and curtains and things you’ve had put in. And now I bid you good night once more. And you, Miss Pethel,” he added, with a bow in my direction and an impish eye that told me he knew a good deal more about Rachel’s housekeeping than he let on.

Rachel was struck mute. She nodded and dragged her feet slowly back to the saloon.

“Let’s eat,” I suggested,

Rachel plopped down on the sofa and took up her glass of wine. She looked quite dazed. “You eat, Constance. I have a little planning to do before I retire,” she said.