Delsie (22 page)

Miss Milne did not bring Roberta, but at three deVigne dropped around, looking heavy-eyed, grouchy, and holding his head at an odd angle.

“You mean to continue with this nonsense?” he asked in a surly tone, taking up a post at the fireplace and declining a seat, to indicate that his call was a courtesy merely.

“Certainly I do,” he was told by a good-natured widow, much easier in her mind since her action had the approval of Lady Jane.

“It would serve you well if they came in force,” he answered.

“I hope they may. We had a flat time of it yesterday, and Lady Jane assures me they are not at all a bad lot who bring in the brandy these days. She feels a tap on the head is the worst we have to look forward to.”

“I might have known there would be no counting on her to act with propriety when it was necessary.”

“I think it very bad of you to be picking on Lady Jane. She has Sir Harold to contend with, and that is enough for one woman.”

“There is half the trouble! Harold has never controlled her as he ought.”

“You forget she is of the same blood as yourself, quite set on
having her own way.”

He glared belligerently at this speech, then began pacing the room. Delsie smiled to see him perform exactly as had been described. “How does my stepdaughter go on?” she asked, to divert him.

“Miss Milne has taken her over to the Dower House for luncheon. They worked upstairs in the nursery this morning.”

“Which she could have done with perfect safety here. What is the matter with your neck? Have you got a crick in it?” He held it to the left.

“Yes, I must have slept with it at an odd angle last night.”

She wondered on what log or rock he had rested it, and felt a qualm of compassion, for the weather was not kind in December. “You look tired. I don’t think you can have slept well.”

Pity was not desired. He stated in a flat voice that he had enjoyed an excellent night’s repose, while he walked briskly from grate to window and back.

“It would be a result of all the exercise you get, pouncing around the room,” she suggested lightly.

He sat on the edge of a chair. “I think you should go to the Dower House with Lady Jane tonight. It is hard on her, an older woman, being out of her bed. It is clear the smugglers don’t intend to come while you are here. You are causing everyone a vast deal of bother with this cork-brained scheme.”

“It is no such thing. Lady Jane enjoyed herself excessively. She agrees with me it would be very mean-spirited to let them go without finding where they have been hiding the brandy.”

“We’ll discover that all right!” He rose again from the chair and paced in the other direction across the room this time.

“It has already been arranged. Lady Jane comes to me again tonight. You waste your time, deVigne, trying to bring us round your thumb.”

They were interrupted by a knocking at the front door. “My first creditor!” Mrs. Grayshott exclaimed.

“I’ll get it,” deVigne said, heading to the door. When he came into the saloon, it was no creditor who accompanied him, but Andrew’s uncle, Clancy Grayshott, known slightly to the widow from his having been presented to her at the time of Andrew’s funeral. He resembled Andrew, but was older, an altogether bigger man, and less refined.

After a few common civilities, Clancy said, “Where is Bristcombe today?”

“The Bristcombes are no longer with me,” Delsie answered. “Mrs. Bristcombe’s mother required them in Merton. They left yesterday.”

His nod held no surprise, and she took the idea that Clancy Grayshott already knew this. As he lived in Merton himself, it would be odd if he did not know it. Certainly in Questnow all items of gossip were known in an hour. “Ah, then you are left short-handed, ma’am. Perhaps you will be inclined on that account to accept the offer I am come here to make you.”

“What offer is that, Mr. Grayshott?” she asked, suspicious.

“I am eager to have my great-niece come to me for a few days. I had expected the pleasure of being her guardian, as you may have heard, but, being deprived of that, I would ask you to bring her to visit my wife and myself at Merton till the weekend.”

“I’m afraid it is impossible for us to go at the present time,” she answered promptly. A visit to this man’s home would be her last choice at any time. She was sure that on this point, at least, deVigne would agree with her. Her marriage had been arranged to keep Bobbie away from Clancy Grayshott, but she soon found herself to be in error. Really there was no accounting for the strange quirks deVigne took into his head.

“I see no harm in your taking Roberta to visit the Grayshotts for a few days, cousin,” he said.

“She is not here,” Delsie pointed out.

“She is only at the Hall,” she was reminded.

“The Hall!” Clancy was immediately on his feet. “Roberta was left in Mrs. Grayshott’s care! It was her father’s express wish that she not be under your guardianship, Lord deVigne.”

“She is not under my guardianship, but only paying a short visit of two days to her uncle—myself—as she will soon be doing with you. Nothing forbids that.”

“No, no! She lives here with me,” Delsie explained hastily, yet she felt foolish. It must appear to Grayshott as though her marriage had been a ruse to get Roberta into the hands of deVigne.

Clancy appeared to accept her explanation. “If you can let her visit her maternal uncle, I see no reason why you cannot bring her to me. My wife is particularly eager to see her.”

Delsie was not happy to see Roberta go off to Clancy Grayshott’s home, yet his request seemed justified. She noticed too that he had not asked her to
send
Roberta, but
bring
her. This was hardly more pleasing, but it removed her one excuse to forbid the visit. Clearly he was not trying to get Bobbie away from her. No, he wanted a short visit from her, along with her stepmother.

“I shall take her to you one day, Mr. Grayshott. I promise that, but this happens to be an impossible time for me to leave home.”

“On the contrary, it is a perfect time,” deVigne said. “You are without a housekeeper. I shall undertake to find you one during your absence. A few days in Merton will be a pleasant change for you, and when you return, you will find your house in order.”

“I cannot leave now. There will be creditors, after the notice in the papers,” she parried. His reason for wishing the visit was becoming clear to her. He wanted to get her out of the house to let the smugglers come and get their brandy. He would even send her and Roberta off to this horrid Clancy Grayshott to achieve his aim. She dug in her heels.

“I’ll be happy to meet the creditors for you,” he said.

“I had hoped to bring you and the child to my wife today,” Clancy went on, unconvinced that he had failed, with the unexpected support from deVigne. “She has not had the pleasure of your acquaintance, ma’am, and you may imagine how eager she is to meet Andrew’s wife.”

‘I could not possibly be ready to make the visit on such short notice,” Delsie insisted.

“Tomorrow, then. I’ll put up at the inn in Questnow for the night...”

“Stay at the Hall,” deVigne invited. Delsie directed an incredulous stare at his speech. DeVigne loathed Clancy. To offer him the hospitality of the Hall was done only to make her position more difficult.

“I fail to see the great urgency for this visit,” she said angrily. “I have promised to take Roberta to you in the near future, Mr. Grayshott. In a week or two
—”

“With winter coming on, it’s best to do the thing before the roads become bad,” Grayshott pressed on urgently.

“It is only early December. I cannot think we’ll be snowbound within the next week. I’m sorry. I am very busy—everything in a mess here. It is impossible to leave at this time.”

“My wife will be ver
y disappointed,” Grayshott said, peering at her to see how this new tack was working.

“I will be happy to receive her here at any time. I cannot leave at the present.” The mulish set of her chin at last convinced him that his errand had failed.

“I’ll tell her, then,” he said, arising. DeVigne too arose, and together the two men left the Cottage. From the window, Delsie saw them stroll together down the walk and off towards the stable.

* * * *

“That young lady has a mind of her own,” Clancy said. “She’ll come to grief, mark my words.”

“She had better not,” deVigne answered in a quietly menacing tone. “You understand my meaning, Clancy?”

“Can’t say as I do,” the man answered slyly.

“Let us cut line. We have discovered what is going on here, as no doubt Bristcombe told you.”

“Bristcombe? I haven’t seen him in a dog’s age.”

“Not since this morning, at any rate. How long will it take you to get the stuff out of the orchard?”

“You found that out too, did you?” He laughed. “Pity. Such an ingenious idea, I had hoped we might go on using it. Andrew was a drunken fool, but he had a way with mechanical contrivances, no denying.”

“Is one night sufficient?”

“Oh, an hour is time enough, but not with a sharp-eyed busybody looking over our shoulders. That wouldn’t do at all. The gentlemen are right shy.”

“She won’t be here tomorrow night. Come any time after midnight.”

“What have you in mind to do with her? She won’t budge for
me,
and I fancy you’ve already tried your hand at leading her.”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve yet. Tomorrow night. And Clancy, this will be the
last time
the orchard is used.”

“Aye, so it will. Pity. But I daresay I can arrange the same setup at my place, now I know how he did it.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” deVigne agreed, just as though he knew what they were talking about.

Chapter Sixteen

DeVigne did not return to the Cottage after leaving with Grayshott, but at about four, Lady Jane came, bringing a picnic basket of comestibles and a ray of sunshine with her.

“What’s new?” she asked merrily, throwing off her cape. “Did anything happen while I was away?”

“I had a visitor. Clancy Grayshott was here,” Delsie replied.

“Has he been pestering you already?”

“Yes, he wanted me to take Bobbie to him at Merton for a few days.”

“It is not to be thought of.”

“I have promised him a visit—I felt obliged to when he discovered she is presently with deVigne.”

“Max won
’t like that,” she cautioned.

“DeVigne was here at the time, pacing about the room as you described to me.”

“He came down off his high ropes, did he? I made sure he would be sulking and deprive you of his cheerful presence for a few days, to trim you into line.”

“He cannot be so foolish as to think that would have any effect, but in fact he was in favor of the visit. He wanted me to go at once. When I declined the honor, he invited Clancy to stay the night at the Hall.”

“What!” This startling intelligence brought Jane to indignation. “Glory to goodness, he’s run mad! He and Clancy have been enemies forever. Why, he calls him a mushroom, and worse. I cannot believe he would let you go to Merton.”

“Oh, yes, he quite tried to push me out the door. But it was only to get me out of the Cottage. He
would send me to hell itself to have his own way. I wouldn’t leave now if I were to receive an invitation to Carlton House to meet the Prince of Wales.”

“That certainly would not be worth the trip, my dear. So what happened?”

“I refused to go today, but am promised for some future time. Clancy and deVigne left together, chatting as friendly as a couple of schoolmates. Cooking up some vile scheme between them, very likely.”

“I’ve a good mind to nip up to the Hall and discover what is going on. Shall we send Nellie up to see how Bobbie is doing, and have her find out from the other servants?”

“That won’t work. He would not have told the servants anything.”

“Harold is coming over after dinner. He would not be put off, Delsie, but there is a decent library here, and he will not tax us unduly.”

The remainder of the day and the evening were not exciting. Sir Harold’s arrival after dinner did nothing to shorten the lagging hours. He had not seen Max, or heard any news from the Hall. Delsie missed her stepdaughter; she also missed deVigne and the family dinner. She and Lady Jane dined on cold fowl and cheese brought in the basket from the Dower House. They sat together embroidering after Sir Harold left. Mrs. Grayshott was beginning a set of seat covers for her dining-room chairs, and Lady Jane was helping her.

They both retired early, sincerely hoping they would have company in the orchard, as this cramped style of life was not of a sort that could go on indefinitely. But the only sound heard from that direction the whole night long was an owl’s hooting, followed by the terrorized shriek of some small nocturnal creature as he was picked up and carried away,

Early the next morning, deVigne came, carrying Bobbie and Miss Milne with him in his carriage. They arrived just as the ladies were having breakfast, and Max and Bobbie joined them at the table. Delsie fully expected that after refusing Clancy’s offer, she would be more deeply than ever in deVigne’s black books, that he would be pacing the floor and scowling at her, but he was in good spirits. She felt insensibly elated to see it. He complimented her on the progress she was making with her housecleaning, and also on the coffee.

“It was your Nellie who made the coffee,” she confessed. “I must get busy and find myself a new housekeeper. Do you know of anyone who is available, either of you?”

“There’s that Mrs. Lampton whose husband was drowned out fishing last year,” Jane mentioned. “She is looking for a position, I hear.”

“She’s rather old,” Max said. “She would do for a couple of years. Shall I take you to see her, cousin?”

“Yes, please, if you are going to the village. I wonder if she will be more willing to come to me than my two ex-students were.”

“It might be best to wait a few days,” Max said, then looked rather conscious, as though he had said something he hadn’t meant to.

“A few days will make no difference,” Jane remarked.