Chapter Seven #2
“A florin my eye! He’ll take a sixpence and like it!” He spun the coin at their pursuer. “Now be off with you!”
To their mutual surprise, the man ignored the coin and continued to stagger after them, waving his hat and calling gaspingly, “My … lady! Wait! Please … wait a bit!”
“Good gracious,” said Naomi, reining to a halt. “He must have a message for me.”
Falcon swung his mount between Naomi and their pursuer, and demanded, “What is your business with this lady?”
The runner, however, was so breathless he could not at once reply, but stood clinging to the railing outside a great house, and wheezing distressfully.
Watching him, Naomi said, “Why, I do believe I know you! Were you not at Promontory Point the other day?”
Falcon looked at her sharply. “He may have been, but what the deuce were you doing there?”
“I will tell you later. Oh, he is exhausted. Follow us to Falcon House, poor soul, and you shall have something to eat and then tell me why you have come.”
“Now see here,” grumbled Falcon. “I’ll not have any of Rossiter’s people hanging about my father’s—”
“I know what it is, dear August,” said Naomi.
“Your arm troubles you, that is why you are so out of sorts. I am scarce surprised. You had no business riding today. Truly, you are a most difficult patient. Come along now, do not sit there mumbling or you’ll be taken up for a drunkard!
” And with a furtive twinkle, and a flourish of her whip, she was off, Falcon following her perforce, and Mr. Tummet bringing up the rear.
Despite his exasperated protests that he was not tired, and that he would take his breakfast with the ladies, Falcon’s arm was indeed paining him, and he was secretly repenting his earlier decision to accompany Naomi on her morning ride.
With a great show of indignation, he eventually obeyed his sister and stamped upstairs.
Once inside his bedchamber, he submitted meekly to the strictures of his man, was divested of riding boots and coat, and went grumbling but grateful to rest on his bed.
He had dropped off to sleep by the time a tray was brought to him.
His valet rested his fingers lightly on the pale forehead, noted the slightly flushed cheeks, and shook his head worriedly.
Mrs. Dudley Falcon was a plump and amiable widow who might have inspired the term “creature comforts,” for she was a creature who had dedicated her life to comfort.
No matter what the circumstances, she was always to be found in the coziest corner, in the softest chair, or commanding the prettiest view.
She was never disappointed in achieving her aims, for if an occasion carried even a whiff of discomfort, she avoided it.
It pleased her erratic brother, Mr. Neville Falcon, to suppose that his sister-in-law made an exemplary chaperone to his beautiful daughter.
Actually, Mrs. Dudley, as she was known, paid small heed to the activities of her charge, beaming on her fondly from a comfortable distance while comfortably convinced that the gentle Katrina could never behave improperly.
She never arose before noon, and at this early hour she was, as usual, comfortably in bed, a tray across her lap, while she enjoyed the scandalous gossip conveyed in the several letters which lay about the eiderdown.
Downstairs, Katrina and Naomi chattered merrily over breakfast, deciding which of many invitations to accept for tomorrow, and what to wear to the musicale they were to attend on Monday afternoon.
These were lengthy discussions and half an hour had passed before Naomi rang the handbell and told the footman he might bring “that poor man” to her if he had finished his breakfast.
“I hope you will not object, dearest,” she added turning to her friend. “He was following us along the street, and looked half starved, so I sent him to the kitchen for a meal.”
“But—who on earth is he?” asked Katrina.
“I believe he is one of Gid—the Rossiters’ servants. He admitted me to Promontory Point when I called there yesterday morning.
“You called there? Again? Good heavens!”
“Well, never look so sanctimonious. I told you that my papa was enraged because I lost his silly chess piece.”
“Yes. But—what has that to do with—”
“Only that he thought Captain Rossiter might have found it. So he asked me to enquire.”
Knitting her brows Katrina said a mystified, “But—surely, your papa should better have sent one of his menservants on such an errand?”
“Perhaps, but”—Naomi shrugged airily—“I was curious to see what my notorious ex-fiancé looked like after all these years, and I thought ’twould be fun to watch him implore my forgiveness for his disgraceful behaviour in Europe.
To say nothing,” she added, with a sudden scowl, “of how he tossed me into the carriage, the wretch! And then I could trample him! In the mire!”
“La, Naomi,” exclaimed Katrina, admiringly. “How daring you are. You told me none of this. They have lost the estate, you know.”
Naomi blanched. “Oh, no! That lovely old place? Gideon must be—” She caught herself up. “’Tis passing tragic!”
“Well, so I think, but August says Sir Mark brought it on himself by placing his faith in idiots. And that he has dragged many innocents down with him. Which is truth, I suppose. But pray tell what you said to Captain Rossiter? What did he say? Was he repentant? Did you trample him in the mire?”
Naomi gazed down at the pearl ring she wore, and did not at once reply. Then she said in a low voice, “He bragged to me of his children.… Three! All born out of wedlock, poor little things.”
“My heavens!”
“Yet he dared to name me—guttersnipe!” That recollection brought a blaze into Naomi’s eyes. She said through her teeth, “And dared to imply I had jilted him because his father is disgraced and the fortune lost.”
“Oh, my dear!” Katrina reached across the table to clasp her friend’s hand fondly. “What a narrow escape you have had! The man is beneath contempt!”
For another moment Naomi was very still and silent. Looking up then, she said lightly, “And I am inconsolable, for I was unable to trample him in the mire. We did our quarrelling inside the house, you see, and alas, there was none. At least, not in evidence.”
They were both laughing merrily at this when the footman announced in a most disapproving tone that Mr. Enoch Tummet awaited my lady’s convenience.
“Very well.” Naomi stood. “With your permission, Trina, I will see him in the red parlour.”
“Yes, of course. But you cannot see him alone. I’ll come with you.”
“Now you must not be Gothic, dear. Johnson will wait in the hall, and I am very sure one of Rossiter’s people will not attack me. You know you are anxious about August. Do you run along, and I shall be up directly to change my dress.”
Katrina hesitated, looking dubiously at the shabby individual who waited in the hall behind Johnson. It was very clear that Naomi wished to talk to the man alone, however, and she really was rather worried about her brother, so she nodded and hurried off.
Hat in hand, Mr. Tummet followed Naomi along the hall, his one functioning eye taking in the luxury all about him, and his lips registering a silent “Cor!” as he was shown into the elegant red and gold parlour.
“Remember your manners, my good man,” adjured the footman in a lofty aside.
“I’ll try, me good cove,” said Tummet, dropping him a clumsy and exaggerated curtsy.
Naomi stifled a laugh. The footman gave Tummet a frigid glare, and took up a position outside the door.
“Well now,” said Naomi, seating herself on a gold brocade sofa. “Were you given a satisfactory meal, Mr.—er, Tummet?”
“Thankee, yus milady. Fork and gaiters.” Noting her puzzled look, he grinned broadly. “Pork and taters, to you, ma’am. Most ample to me innards they was, and more’n welcome arter being on the road all night. E. Tummet thanks you kindly fer the ’orspitality.”
Amusement danced into Naomi’s eyes. ‘A proper rascal,’ she thought. ‘But an engaging one.’ She indicated a straight-backed chair. “Pray be seated. You must be tired.”
He sat down gingerly. “Orl right, ma’am, though I ain’t dressed fer it. I’ll get on me way, if you’ll be so very kind as to tell me where ’e is.”
“Me? I am confused. Do you not work for Captain Rossiter?”
“No, melady. I’m a guard. Or was. I was ’ired to guard Promontory Point ’til the Courts make up their minds what to do wiv it.”
“I see.” She was vaguely disappointed. “I had thought you came with a message for me.”
“Well, that’s right, in a manner o’speaking, ma’am. The message is from E. Tummet. And it says, ‘Please to ’elp ’im find Cap’n Rossiter,’ on account of which gent I lost me sovereign nation—er, sittyation, that is, melady. And got one o’ me daylights darkened.”
Mystified, and groping, Naomi said, “Captain Rossiter caused you to lose your situation? And er…?”
Tummet jerked a thumb at his face and explained patiently, “Me daylight, ma’am. Me orb—or ogle.”
“Oh! Your eye! So that’s what ‘a darkened daylight’ means! The captain gave you a black eye!”
“Not ’im, melady. Them other coves what come arter ’im and the lieutenant ’ad sloped orf. Knocked me abaht something awful they done, then searched the premises fer something Cap’n Rossiter ’ad, what ’e shouldn’t oughter.”
Naomi frowned. “I will own Captain Rossiter’s character leaves much to be desired. But—I cannot think him a thief.”
“And ’ow right you are, melady,” said Tummet, beaming at her.
“A fine gent, if ever I see one. But them coves, they kept carrying on about ‘the Squire.’ The Squire said as it musta bin Rossiter, they says. And they better find it, or it would go ’ard with ’em.
And ’cause I didn’t know what they was a talking of, they went ’ard with me, they did!
And then they started searching about, and by the time they was done searching, you’d’a thought fifty-nine bulls ’ad been chasing one o’ they Spanish matty-doors through the ’ouse! ”