Page 13 of The Count’s Charade

It was not to be expected his daughter would take his interference tamely. “He ain’t no marauder, Pa. A gennelman he is, and as handsome as a picture. Nor he ain’t no danger to nobody, being as he’s as near turning up his toes as makes no matter.”

Piper, a wiry man of no great stature, with a sharp-featured face under the peaked cap that proclaimed his calling, shot a questioning glance at Grace. “Dead, is he, Miss Grace? From what Clem told us, that don’t surprise me none. I had ought to fetch Mr Holwell to you so’s he can fix up a funeral.”

“Thank you, Joe, but you are previous,” said Grace. “He is certainly alive, and I have every hope he will grow stronger by the day.”

Joe, hovering in the parlour doorway, cast a look up the stairway. “Reckon he’ll be moving, then? Mr Mayberry is saying as how he might take the feller to his place, seeing as it’s nobbut a half mile to carry him.”

Jemima gave vent to a scoffing snort. “Aye, and have him breathe his last when he ain’t but halfway there. In no fit state to shift, he isn’t, Pa, and so Miss Grace will tell you.”

And anyone else who presumed to remove the Frenchman, in no uncertain terms. But Grace did not say it. To her surprise and relief, Mab took a hand, belligerent in defence of her nurseling.

“He’ll be moved when the right time comes, Joe Piper, and without your say-so. Meanwhile, our Reuben come over to spare Miss Grace and Jemima what they ain’t fitted for in nursing the feller.”

This intelligence appeared to afford Joe no satisfaction. Setting his arms akimbo, he squared up to Mab, tilting his head in a pugnacious fashion. “If that there Reuben Lamport is in the house, he’d best not be taking his chance to make up to Jemima.”

“Oh, Pa!”

“Don’t you Oh, Pa me, my girl! I won’t have that great lummock for a son-in-law, as I’ve told you often and often.”

“And I’ll have you know, Joe Piper,” returned Mab, fuming, “as Mr Lamport ain’t nowise fitted for our Reuben to marry no flippertygibbet like Jemima here, and so I tell you.”

“Flippertygibbet indeed,” huffed Jemima. “And I’ll have you know as I don’t have no wish to marry your Reuben. It’s Pa as has a bee in his bonnet.”

Grace intervened. “Hush, all of you! I will not have my patient disturbed by your absurd quarrelling. Come into the parlour, Joe, while I fetch the accounts from my bureau. I forgot about them in all this excitement, and perhaps you may pass them on to Mr Mayberry, for he should have had them yesterday.”

Following her in, Joe brushed past Mab, who thrust her nose in the air and shifted back to the table, while Jemima took the opportunity to escape to the kitchen. As Grace opened the bureau, Piper began upon a subject that instantly caught her attention.

“I dunno as Mr Mayberry will be home, Miss Grace, for he said as he were going to Rainham to confer with Mr Wooferton, seeing he’s excise officer and this here feller come from outside the parish seemingly. Mr Mayberry had men out on the marshes yesterday, hunting for to see if he could find no sign of them as shot yon feller. Clem and Sam went, along of Billy Oaken and most of the able-bodied men out at South Hall.”

Recalled to the danger in which Henri stood, Grace was conscious of a hollow feeling within her. She turned with the neatly copied pages of accounts in her hand. “Did they find anything?”

“Nowt to speak on. ’Cepting blood and footprints as come up from the creek to the lane.”

“Mercy me!” exclaimed Mab.

A chill crept into Grace’s chest. “His blood and footprints?”

“Seemingly. Faded out after, and trampled by others on the crossway, likely made this morning by folks on their way to work. Mr Mayberry thinks as how they could ha’ led in this direction.”

“And what of his pursuers?”

Joe shook his head. “Ain’t nothing thereabouts. Mr Mayberry said as how it were pointless hunting less’n the feller can tell him more. No saying where anyone might be in them marshes. Nor if he’d best look Rainham Marsh way or Wennington Marsh.”

“No, indeed,” agreed Grace, unaccountably afraid all at once. “And there is Avely Marsh further east. They could be anywhere.”

Except that, if they were French, like Henri himself — why had she not thought of that before? — the likelihood was they had come from the Thames. And if Henri was shot near the creek at the top of Rainham Marsh, logic would dictate a search down that marshland towards the river. Only she could not suggest it without revealing Henri’s nationality.

Glancing at her nurse, Grace thought she detected much the same sort of deduction in the plump, set features. Fearing Mab might give tongue on the subject, she made haste to usher Piper from the house, urging him to keep her informed of anything he might come across in his travels, “For you are bound to hear of it should there be any developments.”

Visibly gratified, Joe assured her he would keep his eyes and ears open. “For setting aside it ain’t to my taste for my girl to be mixed up in murderings and such, I’m certain sure as the Reverend won’t be best pleased to hear on it, for your sake, Miss Grace.”

Obliged to curb her annoyance — why must everyone insist upon setting up her brother Constant as arbiter of her conduct? — Grace got rid of him as speedily as she could. Mab offering to give a hand to Jemima while Reuben was dealing with Henri’s needs, Grace sat down at her bureau, in hope of catching up on her neglected writings. She had only just reread the last few paragraphs of Mr Staply’s paper, however, when another knock at the door brought forth Dunmow the apothecary — come, he announced, to discover whether his handiwork had been in vain.

“On the contrary,” Grace told him with a show of admiration. “You undoubtedly saved his life. And Doctor Ffrith was most complimentary of your efforts, saying that you did right to use alcohol to clean the wound, and have very likely saved the patient from falling into a fever.”

Gratified, Dunmow inflated his chest. “Ah, nothing like the old-fashioned way, there ain’t. Been used on battlefields since I don’t know when, that has. But I’m blowed if I know how he come through it, Miss Grace, and that’s a fact.”

Grace smiled. “Well, Doctor Ffrith was able to advise us how best to proceed after you had done your part, and so we have thankfully managed to preserve him thus far.” Remembering her need to exaggerate Henri’s present condition, she added swiftly, “But he is excessively weak, and I cannot answer for it that our best will serve.”