Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 01 (14 page)

           
"Now,
look here--" Marston began.

           
Jonathan
raised a hand, and Kim saw the glint of candlelight on metal. Her amusement
died instantly. "Bring it to me!" Jonathan commanded.

           
"Put
that down, you young chub," Stuggs said. "Pistols ain't a thing to go
waving around like that."

           
"Bring
me the dish!" Jonathan cried. "I won't have any more delay!" He
waved his pistol again. "Bring--"

           
Abruptly
the masked face vanished from the window. There was a crash and the almost
simultaneous sound of a pistol shot. Stuggs cursed and ran to the window. A
moment later he pulled his head back inside and shook it in wonder. "Silly
chub was standing on a bucket, an' it tipped over," he said. "The
pistol must 'ave gone off when 'e fell."

           
"Never mind!"
Jasper said. "Help me hide this
before someone else comes in."

           
"What's
going on?" a voice boomed from the doorway.
"Hi,
Marston!
Looks like you've had a bit of a turnup."

           
"I
don't care what he's been having, Mr. Bramingham, I won't have him making such
dreadful
noises in my house," said a shrill female voice from farther along the
hallway. "He's wakened all the guests
and
the servants, and I won't
have it.
Even if he
is
your brother, Amelia,
dear."

           
"Too
late," Stuggs said in a resigned tone as the occupants of
Bramingham
Place
, in various states of deshabille, began
pouring into the library.

           
The first
person through the door was an older, heavier version of Henry Bramingham; Kim
assumed he was the owner of the estate. Behind him came several other men in
dressing gowns and a partially dressed footman carrying more candles. They were
followed in turn by the ladies of the house, caps askew and clutching their
dressing gowns about them, determined to miss nothing of whatever scandalous
goings-on had been discovered.

           
Jasper
dropped the platter onto the seat of a nearby sofa where it would be
temporarily hidden by the back. "Housebreakers, that's what happened,
Bramingham," he said, waving at the broken window and the chaos of
shattered glass and broken furniture below. "I, ah, came down for a book
and interrupted them--"

           
"Housebreakers!"
A plump, grey-haired woman
wrapped in layers of ruffles stiffened indignantly.
"At
my house party!
I won't have it, Mr. Bramingham!"

           
"Of
course not, my dear," the heavy man said, patting her arm. "Good job,
Marston; I see you've caught one." He eyed Stuggs's bulk with evident
misgiving. "He looks a desperate rogue. Just hold him off a minute more,
til Henry gets here with the shotgun."

           
"What?
No, no, Bramingham, that's not a burglar," Jasper said, clearly taken
aback. "That's my man, Stuggs."

           
"Jasper!"
Lady Granleigh pushed her way to the
front of the crowd and came toward him across the room, hands outstretched.
"Dear boy, were you injured?" Her expression was at variance with her
concerned tone, and as she came nearer, Kim saw her soundlessly mouth the words
"Did you get it?"

           
"Yes,"
said Jasper. "I mean no, not at all. Ah, Amelia . . ." He gestured
toward the sofa.

           
Amelia
glanced down. She looked at Jasper and rolled her eyes heavenward. "The
very thought of your ordeal makes me feel faint," she declared, and sat
down on top of the tray, spreading out her robe so that it was completely
hidden.

           
"Clever
woman," Mairelon murmured. "Pity she's not on our side."

           
"Shh!"
Kim hissed. "You want to get us caught?"

           
"Amelia, dear!"
Mrs. Bramingham said, hurrying
over.

           
"Faint?
Lady Granleigh never faints!" a bluff voice said, and a
distinguished-looking man pushed his way through the crowd of servants and
visitors. He was fully dressed, which perhaps accounted for his tardiness, and
there was mud on his boots. "I'm afraid they got away, Bramingham,"
he said. "That boy of yours is still chasing them, but I don't see that he
has much chance of catching up with them in the dark."

           
Mrs. Bramingham
gave a faint, lady like shriek. "Henry! My son is out there with those
villains? I won't have it! Bring him back at once, Mr. Bramingham."

           
"Of
course, my dear," Mr. Bramingham said, making not the slightest move to do
so. "Did you see them yourself, Lord Granleigh?"

           
"
Somebody
was running off through the woods," Lord Granleigh replied. "I doubt
that anyone got a good look at him, though. Now, what's this about Lady
Granleigh fainting? You're not ill, are you, my dear?"

           
"I
shall be quite all right in a moment," Lady Granleigh said, leaning back
against the cushions. She looked nervous, and Kim wondered whether her husband
knew that she and her brother were trying to steal Henry's tray.

           
"I
can carry you up to your room," Lord Granleigh offered, plainly concerned.

           
"No,
no, I shall do much better here," Lady Granleigh assured him.
"Perhaps if you sent Marianne to me . . ."

           
"Mademoiselle
Marianne is in the saloon, having the hysterics."

           
Heads
turned toward a lovely young woman standing in the doorway. A lace cap lay like
a snowflake on her auburn hair, and the pale green wrap that covered her
nightdress set off her slender figure better than a ball gown. Kim felt
Mairelon stiffen. "Renee?" he breathed in tones of horrified
disbelief.

           
"Me,
I do not see that having the hysterics is of any use whatever, and I have a
great wish to know whether we are to be murdered in our beds, so I have left
her with her maid," the auburn vision went on. "I think that her maid
is very nearly as silly as she is, so they will go on well together. What has
happened?"

           
A
confused babble of voices greeted this question. Lady Granleigh objected that
her dear Marianne was not in the least silly; Mrs. Bramingham offered some
complaint about her son; Jasper launched into a highly colored and
very
jumbled account of the way in which he had run the
ruffians off; Mr. Bramingham made a series of vague and contradictory
statements that seemed intended to be reassuring. The auburn-haired woman
listened with an appearance of polite interest, though it was impossible to
understand more than one word in six. Finally Mr. Bramingham put a stop to it.

           
"Enough!"
he roared. "Miss D'Auber, I must apologize; it has been a very trying
night."

           
So the
auburn-haired woman was the infamous Renee D'Auber, whom Mairelon had gone to
visit the night before they left
London
!
Kim could not keep from glancing in the magician's direction, but it was too
dark in the cupboard to make out his expression. Frowning a little, she
returned to her contemplation of the scene in the library.

           
"It
seems to me that of a certainty someone has been trying something
tonight," Mademoiselle D'Auber said into the silence that followed Mr.
Bramingham's bellow. "But I do not yet know what."

           
Mr.
Bramingham attempted a gallant bow, the effect of which was somewhat spoiled by
the belt of his dressing gown, which chose that moment to come undone and flap
around his knees. "Nothing that need cause you concern, Miss
D'Auber."

           
"Father!"
Henry Bramingham burst into the room
with a nod and a quick "Beg pardon" as he passed Renee D'Auber. His
eyes were bright with excitement, and in one hand he held a dirt-covered
pistol. Bits of earth and grass dropped from the pistol to the carpet as he
waved it triumphantly before the eyes of the assembly. "We didn't catch
him, but we found this on the South Walk."

           
"Henry!"
shrieked his mother. "What do you mean by bringing that filthy object into
the library?"

           
"I
told you he had a gun!" Jasper said.

           
"Coo!"
whispered one of the housemaids, who was standing wide-eyed in a corner,
drinking in the uproar.

           
"Henry,
you're upsetting the ladies," Mr. Bramingham said.

           
"I'm
sorry; I didn't think." Henry looked down at the pistol as if he would
have liked to hide it under his coat.

           
Mademoiselle
D'Auber's eyebrows rose. "I see that Mademoiselle Marianne is perhaps not
so
foolish as I thought, unless your South Walk grows
pistols, which is a thing unlikely. But do you say that this person has
escaped?"

           
"Nothing
to worry about, Miss D'Auber," Mr. Bramingham said. "If you'll just
let us handle this--"

           
"But
I do not see that you
are
handling it," Renee D'Auber pointed out.
"And perhaps this villain has a second pistol and will come back to kill
us all in our beds! I do not at all like this idea,
me
,
and I will not spend another night in this house."

           
"Oh,
no
, Mademoiselle D'Auber, you mustn't leave!" Mrs. Bramingham
turned in distress from her unwelcomed ministrations to Lady Granleigh.
"Why, you've only just arrived!"

           
"I
shall leave in the morning," Renee announced, and swept out of the room.

           
"There!
See what you've done!" Mrs. Bramingham said crossly to Henry after a
moment's silence.

           
"What
I've done!" The look Henry gave his mother was full of righteous
indignation. "I didn't break into the library and smash up the display
cases. I didn't go dropping pistols in the South Walk. I suppose you'd rather I
hadn't chased off the fellow who did!"

           
"I
believe I am going to faint," Lady Granleigh announced loudly. The company
turned to look at her and she sank back against the sofa, fanning herself with
one hand. "If I could have a little
peace
," she said in
failing tones, "I might be able to recover."

           
"Of course, Amelia, dear!"
Mrs. Bramingham said.
"Mr. Bramingham, take these people into the green saloon. I'll just get my
hartshorn--"

           
"Alone,"
Lady Granleigh said with amazing firmness for a purported invalid.

           
"But,
Lady Granleigh--" Mr. Bramingham began, frowning.

           
"Very
well," Lady Granleigh sighed, cutting him off. "If you insist, I will
allow Jasper to remain in case those villains reappear. But I must have
quiet.
"

           
"But
Mr. Marston was going to explain--"

           
Lady
Granleigh raised a hand to her head. "Can it not wait?"

           
Mr.
Bramingham blinked,
then
shook his head. "Yes, of
course, Lady Granleigh, as you say. Come along, my dear. Henry, take that thing
to the morning room; I'll come by in a minute or two. Come along, everyone, we
must let Lady Granleigh recover."

           
Lord
Granleigh gave his wife a penetrating look, but allowed himself to be
shepherded out of the room along with the rest. Only Jasper and his
"man" Stuggs remained behind. As the door closed behind the crowd,
Lady Granleigh stood up briskly.

           
"Ah,
Amelia, hadn't you better--I mean, what if someone comes back in and sees
you?" Jasper stuttered. "You're supposed to be in a faint."

           
"I
am not going to sit on that object for another instant," Lady Granleigh
replied. "And if it had not been for your ineptitude, I would not have had
to. What possessed you to rouse the household like this?"

           
"I
didn't rouse the household, and if you'd listen for half a minute, you'd know
it," Jasper said bitterly. "It was that Bedlamite in the domino with
his pistol and his--"

           
"I
am not interested in excuses," Lady Granleigh interrupted. "There
will be time for that later. Right now we must decide what to do with this
platter. We can't just carry it up to your room, you know. The halls are full
of servants; it will be hours before things settle down."

           
"My room?
Why my room? You're the one who was invited
for the house party. You've got that hulking great wardrobe and at least two
dressing tables to hide the thing in. I'm just an overnight guest; all I have
is a shaving stand."

           
"You
have neither a husband nor an abigail to pry into your things. I, on the other
hand--"

           
"I
should hope not!" Jasper said. Then he looked at his sister and snorted.
"And if Stephen Granleigh has ever 'pried' in your things, I'll . . . I'll
eat my cravat."

           
"If
you dare to so much as hint any such thing about Stephen, I shall feed it to
you myself," Lady Granleigh retorted. "Stephen is the soul of
honor."

           
"Too
honorable for his own good," Jasper muttered. His sister gave him a
warning look, and he scowled. "Well, he is, and you know it, or why did
you drag me into this mess in the first place? Granleigh stands to benefit as
much as you do if he recovers the platter, but he wouldn't stand this
havey-cavey nonsense for a minute." His expressive wave included the
platter, the shattered window, the open display case, and his sister.

           
Lady
Granleigh flushed. "That is not the point, and you are wasting time. What
are we going to do with this platter?"

           
"Throw
it out the window," Jasper said in a sulky tone.

           
"Don't
be ridiculous, Jasper. There are still people combing the grounds in search of
those housebreakers of yours; someone would be sure to find it before we could
recover it."

           
"Why
don't you 'ide it be'ind some of them books?" Stuggs suggested.

           
Lady
Granleigh gave him a scornful look, but as no better idea was forthcoming, she
and Jasper set to work removing books from one of the shelves. Unfortunately
they did not think to check the platter against the size of the shelf before
they did so, and when they tried to balance it on its edge against the wall, it
proved too tall. They were forced to remove it and replace the books,
reproaching each other viciously the entire time.

           
In the
end, they hid the platter under the sofa cushions. Lady Granleigh was not
altogether pleased with this solution, and warned Jasper several times that he
must make certain to remove it before the maids came to straighten up.