Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns by Patricia Veryan Page A

see. Then you didn't really think Mr. Diccon was a bad man,
did you?"
    He considered this in silence. Then he raised his angelic blue
eyes to meet hers. "He's got a donkey," he said simply.
    Fanny came in. "I'm baking you a gingerbread man, wounded
hero," she said, offering a skewer and a shallow pan to her brother.
"Would you like to make his face?"
    Only too willing to oblige, Arthur took the skewer and with
great concentration began to give the gingerbread man a very toothy
grin and two big eyes.
    Fanny smiled at her sister. "I see he's well on the road to
recovery. Is Mr. Coville coming to pay a call today? I'd thought he
meant to take you riding this morning."
    Marietta had thought the same thing, but said they had formed
no definite plans.
    "D'you know what I think?" said Fanny. "Your devoted swain is
a Bond Street Beau and believes no civilized person rises before noon."
    Mrs. Cordova trotted across the entrance hall waving a bulky
parcel. She had left the front door wide, and brought a breath of warm
air and a flood of sunlight with her. "Only look what I found on the
terrace!" she panted.
    "Aha!" exclaimed Fanny. "I mistake the matter, and the devoted
swain has called already!"
    "But I do not have a devoted swain," said Mrs. Cordova,
puzzled. "Do I?" She peered hopefully at her amused nieces, then
laughed. "Oh, I see! Wicked girls that you are!" Inspecting the parcel
she added, "And this is not for you, Marietta. It's addressed to
'Master Arthur Warrington.' "
    Arthur gave a whoop and reached out. Rending the brown paper,
he was suddenly very still, gazing and gazing. Mute, he held up a small
leather sword belt and scabbard. The two-edged sword was wooden but
beautifully carven, the hilt set with a great imitation ruby.
    "Oooh!" he breathed, springing up. "Quick! Quick! Help me put
it on, Etta!"
    She laughed. "What, over your nightshirt?"
    "Jus' to see if it fits," he said eagerly.
    Searching the paper, Fanny teased, "There's no card, but I
suspect Mr. Coville believes that the quickest way to a maiden's heart
is through her little brother. And you are blushing, Etta."
    Mrs. Cordova had also picked up a piece of the wrapping.
Turning it in her hands she murmured, "I think you are in the wrong of
it, Fan."
    Marietta looked at her sharply.
    "It's from the Black Knight," cried Arthur, wrenching forth
the sword. "An' it fits jus' right! Oh, isn't it sp'endid!"
    Marietta frowned.
    Mrs. Cordova pointed out, "Under the circumstances, it is kind
in him."
    "He might better have sent a book, or a toy," said Fanny
primly, "rather than a weapon of war!"
    "Wheee!" squealed Arthur, leaping about and flourishing the
sword with vigour. "I mus' go and get dressed!"
    Mrs. Cordova took the boy to the stairs, glanced out of the
front door, then hurried back to the withdrawing room. "You will want
to
change also, Etta. Mr. Coville is riding through the lodge gates! My,
what a handsome creature he is!"
    Running to peep at the "handsome creature," Fanny closed the
front door and called, "Only one horse, Etta. You won't need your
habit."
    Marietta fled to her room. She put on a pomona green and white
muslin morning dress, tidied her hair, brushed a hare's foot over her
shiny nose, and hoped Papa would not attach too much importance to this
visit.
    In the entrance hall, Blake Coville waited. His well-cut
riding coat was blue, his linen like snow, and immaculate moleskins
clung to his muscular legs. He was a sight to make any female heart
flutter and Marietta's heart was no exception as he took her hand and
said admiringly, "How charming you look, Miss Warrington. Your father
has given me leave to take you for a short stroll. May I beg that you
will agree?"
    All smiles, Sir Lionel stood nearby, nodding encouragement,
and when Marietta said she would go and fetch her bonnet and a parasol,
he told her triumphantly that he had already sent for those articles.
Mrs. Gillespie came puffing from the back stairs, her square face
flushed as she offered