108. An Archangel Called Ivan Read online

  It was very difficult for her to breathe through the thickness of the blanket.

  Although she wanted to yell out for help, she knew that it would be just a waste of energy.

  The horses, and she guessed now that there were two, were gathering speed. She leant back, because she was afraid of falling forward.

  She could not imagine what was going on and why she was being treated in this way.

  She wondered what would happen when the party at the lake discovered that she was missing and then there would be no one to tell them what had taken place.

  But the swimming would go on for another hour or so before they sat down to the picnic tea she had arranged for them in a tent.

  Even then they might think that she had just gone to the house or was likely to turn up at any moment so no one would be anxious.

  ‘Just how can this be happening to me?’ she asked herself again and again.

  But the horses trotted on and on.

  Because it was extremely hot and airless, she tried to breathe the best way she could.

  It must have been almost two hours later when she was aware that they were moving on far better roads than they had been at first.

  The horses then began to slow down and she knew without being told that they were passing through some gates and were now in a drive.

  ‘Where can I be and what can be going on?’ she questioned as she had asked a thousand times already.

  But there was no answer, only the horses coming to a standstill.

  She thought that now, at last, she would know who was behaving towards her in this extraordinary manner.

  She was taken out of the carriage and up the steps to what she was sure was the front door of a house.

  Then the two men were carrying her up a staircase.

  It all seemed so incredible and even now she could hardly believe that it was really happening and she was not imagining it.

  Then she was put down on what she thought was a sofa and she hoped that, after she had clearly reached her destination, they would at least set her free.

  Her hopes were realised.

  The men began to undo the rope or whatever it was that bound her legs together and she felt, as it had been so tight, it was at least some relief.

  Then she felt the rope round her body being taken away and now she would be able to breathe more easily.

  Then to her surprise they did not take the blanket off her, but walked away, she presumed towards the door.

  Very slowly, because she was frightened, she lifted the blanket away from her face.

  Then, with a huge effort, she managed to throw it off.

  She saw that she was in a bedroom, well-furnished and containing a four-poster bed.

  She stared round her in sheer astonishment.

  Why had she been brought here and who owned this pretty and obviously comfortable room?

  She pushed her hair, which had been pressed down by the blanket, off her forehead.

  She thought that she had enough strength to rise to her feet, but before she could do so, the door opened.

  As she turned her head, she saw that a woman was walking towards her.

  She could hardly believe who it was.

  Then with a gasp she realised that she was right and it was indeed the Countess of Sturton looking, she thought, as unpleasant as she always thought her to be.

  The Countess reached her and then Arliva cried out,

  “What is happening? And why have I been brought here in this extraordinary manner? I don’t understand.”

  “That is exactly what I have now come to explain to you,” the Countess replied. “I expect, as it’s very hot, you would like a drink of water.”

  She went to the washstand, filled a glass and then brought it back to Arliva.

  Because her throat was so dry and she felt as if her body was dripping with heat, she drank half of the glass rapidly before she repeated,

  “I don’t understand why I have been brought here.”

  “That is what I am about to tell you,” the Countess said again.

  Turning round a chair that faced the dressing table, she sat down on it.

  Arliva pushed the blanket that had covered her onto the floor and then tried to wipe some of the sweat from her forehead.

  Then she managed to say in what seemed to her a strange voice,

  “I find it very hard to understand what is happening and why you are treating me like this.”

  “I should have thought as you are so clever, as your father’s daughter, that you would have guessed by this time that, as I am devoted to my son, I want him to be happy. And I know only too well that his future happiness lies in marrying you.”

  The Countess spoke somewhat sharply in a voice that Arliva had heard before, especially when she had been listening to her through the open window at her house in London.

  She thought this was extremely odd behaviour on the part of the Countess and it was only with an effort did she manage to say,

  “You will, I hope, not think I am rude when I say that I have no wish to marry your son and I am certain he has no real wish to marry me.”

  “Of course he wants to marry you,” the Countess said sharply.

  It trembled on Arliva’s lips to add, ‘because I am rich,’ however she thought it a vulgar way of speaking and remained silent.

  The Countess went on,

  “As I want my son’s happiness more than anything else and as I believe that you are the one girl who could make him happy, I am determined that your marriage will take place and it will in a few days’ time.”

  Arliva stared at her, thinking that she must have gone raving mad.

  But she saw by the expression on her face that she was determined that the Earl should be her husband just as she had suggested it to him when she heard them talking outside her sitting room.

  With an effort she tried to sit up a little straighter than she was before and said deliberately quietly,

  “I am sorry to disappoint you, Countess, but I have no intention at the moment of marrying anyone, although I am sure that your son is very sincere in his anxiety to be my husband. My answer is still very definitely ‘no’.”

  The Countess laughed and it was not a pleasant sound.

  “Do you really believe I will accept that? In fact I anticipated how you would behave after I learnt that for some amazing reason I cannot understand you left London and are hiding at Lord Wilson’s house pretending to be the children’s Governess.”

  “I wonder who told you that story?” Arliva asked.

  Even as she spoke she knew only too well that the relations who had come to stay must have talked of what seemed to them a charming and pretty Governess who had changed everything at Wilson Hall.

  Or perhaps one of their servants knew the servants whom the Countess employed. They too would talk of the strange transformation that was happening in the country.

  She thought swiftly and somewhat bitterly that she had underestimated her chance of remaining as she was, so happy with the Wilson children and continuing to think up new ideas they would enjoy.

  She had forgotten that her disappearance from the Social world was bound to be continually chatted about by gossips.

  “I have decided,” the Countess was saying, “that, as you cannot make up your mind and your father and mother are dead, I will take their place and choose a husband for you for which service you should be extremely grateful.”

  “I have already said,” Arliva repeated, “that I have no wish to marry anyone and that includes your son.”

  “In which case I will do what your parents would do if they were alive and choose him for you,” she replied. “They would understand that any girl would be thrilled to have the title Simon can give you.”

  “Then I suppose,” Arliva said bitterly, “any mother would welcome me as her daughter-in-law, not because I am a suitable wife for her son but because my father, when he died, left me so much money.”

 
; “As we are being frank,” the Countess continued, “your money would undoubtedly be an asset in any family and certainly very welcome in ours.”

  There was a pause before Arliva retorted in a cold voice,

  “I think that this conversation is quite unnecessary. You have brought me here in a most ignominious manner that will doubtless cause a great deal of worry and distress when I am found to be missing. I therefore insist on being returned immediately to Wilson Hall.”

  The Countess laughed.

  “You can hardly expect me to agree to that after I have gone to so much trouble taking you away. In fact to save them worrying over you I have left a note for Lord Wilson saying you had an unexpected call from London as one of your relatives is dying and has asked for you to be at her deathbed. You therefore left immediately and will let him know when it’s possible for you to return.”

  “You had no right to do that,” Arliva shouted. “I can only insist that you send me back and I hope it will be more comfortable than the way I was transported here!”

  “It was the only possible way that I could take you away without you protesting or refusing to obey me,” the Countess replied. “Quite frankly, my dear girl, you had better make up your mind to accept the situation without too much fuss.”

  “I will make a great deal of fuss if you force me to marry your son. I consider it an outrageous action on your part and one which would undoubtedly infuriate my father if he was alive.”

  Quite unexpectedly the Countess laughed again.

  “I suppose that your father was always afraid of you being kidnapped and he would have to pay a large amount of ransom to get you back.”

  She paused for a moment before she went on,

  “Well, instead of asking for money, I am merely arranging for you to marry my son. If you are sensible, you will agree with the least palaver about it.”

  Arliva put the water glass down on a table near the sofa.

  Then she rose to her feet, a little unsteadily, but still with a dignity she thought her father would have approved of.

  “I just seem to be repeating myself over and over again,” she said. “But I want to make it absolutely clear to you that I have no intention of marrying your son or, as I have said before, anyone else at the moment.”

  She paused and then continued,

  “I therefore insist that you send me back to Wilson Hall where I know they will be waiting anxiously for me despite the letter you sent in my name, which I consider a ridiculous act on your behalf.”

  “I agree with you that there is no need to us to go on repeating ourselves,” the Countess said, rising to her feet. “I hope that you will be comfortable in this bedroom where you will be staying until you agree to marry my son. As apparently it is difficult for you to realise that you have no alternative but to agree to what I have planned.”

  For a moment Arliva could not think of anything to say.

  The Countess, after waiting a second or two more, walked back towards the door.

  As she reached it, she turned and snarled,

  “As it is a big mistake for you not to reconsider the situation you find yourself, you will receive no food or drink of any sort until you have made up your mind.”

  She did not wait for Arliva to reply, but went out, slamming the door behind her and turning the key in the lock.

  For a moment Arliva could only stare at the door as if it was impossible for her to fully understand what the Countess had said.

  Then she knew that what she had heard was true, although it seemed incredible.

  In fact until she agreed to marry the Earl, she would be given nothing to eat or drink.

  She would be starved into giving the Countess the answer she had demanded so unsubtly.

  Arliva walked quickly to the window and looked out. If she had thought of escaping from that window there was no chance.

  Sturton Castle, where she knew the Countess lived, had been renovated rather badly at the beginning of the last century.

  They had covered the old bricks with plaster, but kept the walls, which had been there, according to the family archives, since the twelfth century.

  Thus it was a considerable drop from the window of the room where Arliva was imprisoned onto the ground below which was part of the garden.

  Looking down she saw that there was a flagstone path round the perimeter of The Castle.

  This meant that if she attempted to jump from the window onto the ground she would smash herself to pieces on the path.

  Without looking at the door, she was quite sure that it was firmly locked and there was no exit that way.

  There was a door at the end of the room.

  She then opened it, but found that it was merely a wardrobe room and anyway it could only be reached from the bedroom.

  ‘What am I to do? What on earth am I to do?’ she asked herself.

  She then realised that she was really frightened.

  Because she had admired her father so much and always listened to everything he told her, she remembered him saying,

  “If you are frightened and I myself have often been really frightened in my travels, you must use your brain. Your body may want to run away, but it is your instinct that will guide you and show you the best and safest way of confronting the enemy.”

  ‘I know what I will do,’ Arliva thought. ‘I will offer the Countess a large sum of money to set me free. Surely she will agree to that.’

  As she thought of it, she knew instinctively that the Countess would refuse, realising that it would be better to have a daughter-in-law who was a millionairess who would have to stay in the family once she was married.

  ‘I have to find a way. I have to!’ Arliva insisted to herself.

  Then she was praying, praying fervently that God would tell her how to save herself.

  Or perhaps, by some miracle, someone would save her.

  “Help me! Please help me!” she cried. “I know if I marry this man who I dislike and have to put up with his dreadful mother, I would rather die.”

  Equally she knew that she wanted to live.

  She wanted to be with the Wilson children who by now would be wondering where she could be and having to go back to the house without her.

  How could she have ever imagined that anything so horrible would be planned, simply because she had money?

  “I hate my money!” she cried. “Oh, Papa, why did you leave me so much?”

  She asked the question aloud and felt as if her voice echoed back to her from the ceiling.

  She had run away from her money, but it had ended in her being a prisoner.

  A prisoner who was to be starved into submission.

  A prisoner who must marry a man she hated and she was certain that she had nothing in common with.

  ‘If I offer them everything I now possess,’ she told herself, ‘I am quite certain that they would rather have me simply because my money is increasing year by year and they want all of it.’

  She walked up and down her room until she was too tired to walk any further.

  Then she flung herself onto the bed, still thinking desperately of some way she could persuade the Countess to let her go.

  “What can I do?” she asked the ceiling.

  She gave a deep sigh.

  ‘Oh, help me, please help me, God,’ she prayed. ‘I cannot be so weak and feeble as to give in to the inevitable, just because, unlike other women, I have a large fortune.’

  *

  No one came near her and she lay on the bed until it became obvious that it was getting late and the sun was sinking in the sky.

  She went over to the window to watch it disappear behind the trees.

  The first star came out in the sky and it was then that she was praying again.

  Praying with a fervency that seemed to make her prayers so real and so strong that she felt they flew up into the sky and passed through the stars.

  But they must reach her father and he would guide her in what she s
hould do.

  ‘Help me, Papa, help me! It’s your money that has made me a prisoner here. Although I feel like saying I would rather die than marry the Earl, I know I will give in simply because I will be too hungry to go on any longer.’

  The stars twinkled back at her and the moon began to shine on the garden below.

  Yet there was no answer to Arliva’s question.

  How could she escape from marrying the Earl?

  CHAPTER SIX

  At the end of the second day with nothing to eat, Arliva was feeling very low and extremely depressed.

  ‘This just cannot go on,’ she thought. ‘I know that I will collapse soon and then they will do what they want with me.’

  Almost as if in answer to her thoughts, she heard the door unlock and the Countess came in.

  Arliva did not move from the chair she was sitting in. She just stared at her in a contemptible manner.

  “I have just come here to inform you,” the Countess announced, “that we are leaving tomorrow morning to see the Canon who lives a little way from here. He will marry you and Simon the next day.”

  She paused obviously waiting for Arliva to make a reply and, when there was silence, she went on,

  “You will be married in the private Chapel which adjoins The Castle. But the Canon is most insistent that he always sees the bride and bridegroom before he marries them.”

  She paused for a while to draw in her breath before she added in a harsher tone,

  “I consider it quite unnecessary when he is also the private Chaplain to Simon. However, he insists firmly and therefore we are taking you to see him this afternoon.”

  Arliva still did not speak and after a moment the Countess went on,

  “One word from you that you don’t wish to marry Simon and you will be starved until you become utterly and completely unconscious and so unable to argue about it anymore.”

  She made a little sound which was almost one of disdain before she asserted,

  “There will be no arguments that you are helpless and that is what you will be if I arrange the wedding for the end of the week when you will be unconscious.”

  Still Arliva did not speak.

  After a moment, as if she was disappointed at the reception she had received, the Countess turned round and walked from the room.