The Heart of love Read online

  Verena remained silent. Surely she had not misjudged the Marquis that he was capable of such action?

  Lord Mountjoy pulled her up from her knees and began to drag her in the direction of the docks.

  “We will see what a few hours in your cabin will do for your powers of decision making,” he smirked.

  The Seahorse was deserted when the pair arrived back to where the ship was berthed. The only sound was the creaking of the rope that tied the ship to the dock.

  Lord Mounjoy pushed Verena up the gangway and down the stairs leading to the lower decks.

  Verena prayed with all her might that Arthur or Pete might suddenly appear and come to her aid, but there was no one around.

  Reaching her cabin, Lord Mountjoy pushed open the door and shoved Verena inside so hard that she hit her bunk.

  He was breathing heavily as he looked at her – tears were running down her cheeks, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Such a pretty face, such a pity to have cut off all your lovely hair –”

  He ran his fingers through her shorn locks, a strange look on his face.

  Verena turned sharply away. Her skin crawled at his very touch.

  ‘What is he about to do?’ she shuddered anxiously, as his fingers hovered over her cheek. ‘Surely he would not try to take advantage of me whilst enjoying the hospitality of the Marquis?’

  As if he read her thoughts, Lord Mountjoy began to caress her cheek.

  Verena felt sick to her very stomach. She closed her eyes and tried to move away.

  But he gripped her face hard, pulling her towards him.

  Verena could smell his breath – it reeked of stale cigarettes, fish and garlic.

  ‘Moules,’ she thought with disgust.

  “You will submit to me,” murmured Lord Mountjoy, his lips moving towards hers.

  With all the strength that she could muster, Verena brought her feet up sharply and kicked him as hard as she could.

  In the struggle that ensued, he ripped her shirt, exposing her chemise underneath.

  Hearing the fabric tear, he pulled back and looked at Verena, red-faced and panting. Her eyes were filled with hatred.

  Softly laughing to himself, Lord Mountjoy got up and released her.

  “No, I will not rush into taking my prize,” he declared, straightening his jacket.

  “I will give you until six o’clock to make your mind up. Should you decide to refuse my offer, I will have no choice but to reveal to the Marquis who you are. Let us see how a couple of hours of contemplation will soften your attitude.”

  He took the key out of the lock and slammed the door behind him. Verena could hear the key turning and then Lord Mountjoy’s footsteps as he departed along the corridor.

  She began to weep once more. What could she do?

  Her hands were still fastened tight behind her and even if she had been free, she could not have escaped from the cabin.

  She thought of crying out – but there was no one on board, apart from Lord Mountjoy, to hear her.

  Verena glanced over at the photograph of her mother.

  ‘Oh, Mama. Help me. Please help me if you can. My very life is in peril!’ But no answer came.

  She became increasingly desperate. In the distance, she heard a Church clock strike four and then the half hour.

  ‘I must think of something, I must.’ There were noises overhead and Verena guessed that some of the crew had returned. She thought she could hear Pete’s muffled tones, laughing as always and making jokes.

  But even if she cried out, how could he hear her with so much metal between them? He would simply attribute her screams to the screeching of gulls overhead.

  ‘I have to think of another way,’ she decided. ‘I do not have much time left. Lord Mountjoy will be returning soon.’

  Weary with shock and thoroughly exhausted, Verena began to doze. As she gave herself up to sleep, she came to a decision.

  ‘Perhaps there is no other way but to confess all to the Marquis. I have to be brave and trust him. I have no other alternative. For better or for worse I must throw myself at his mercy – ’

  As she slept on, so tired was she that the sound of footsteps fast approaching her cabin failed to wake her –

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As Verena slept on, she began to dream.

  In her dream, she imagined that she was on a ship – one not unlike the Seahorse – and she was trapped below deck desperately trying to find a way out. She was no longer Jean the chef – she was herself once more and as she ran, she constantly tripped up on the hem of her dress.

  In the distance, she could hear music. She knew that for some reason she had to find its source, but try as she might, she could not locate where it was coming from.

  Every door she opened, there was nothing but an empty cabin in front of her.

  She became more and more agitated and began to cry.

  Suddenly out of nowhere a black cat appeared chasing a mouse along one of the corridors. Curious, she followed it and in a flash, the cat lost interest in the mouse and instead wound its furry body around Verena’s legs. It seemed to want her to follow it as it pawed at her skirts and mewed entreatingly. It led Verena to a door she had not seen before.

  The cat came to a halt and began to wash itself. Verena wasted no time, pushing the door. It flew open and there before her was a set of steps.

  The sound of music was growing closer. Verena hurriedly ascended the stairs.

  But the stairs went on forever. Just as she thought she had reached the top, another flight of stairs rolled out in front of her.

  At the very top, she could see the tall, elegant figure of the Marquis. He was reaching out to her, calling her name, “Verena, dearest! Come, be my love,” he cried.

  But try as she might, Verena could not reach the top of the stairs.

  “I love you! Wait for me,” she shouted, as she ran up yet another flight on the never ending staircase – Suddenly, there was a series of loud bangs and it all went dark.

  *

  Verena gradually emerged from her dream, aware that the loud bangs in her dream were in fact someone knocking hard on her cabin door.

  ‘Lord Mountjoy,’ she moaned to herself, fearfully. ‘He has returned to torment me.’

  Then she realised that he had a key and would have had no need of knocking.

  “Jean! Jean. Are you in there?” came a muffled voice. “The Marquis wants to see you.”

  Verena was too exhausted to answer. She heard the far-off Church clock strike five and next the sound of footsteps receding back up the corridor.

  She lay in silence, shaken by her strange dream. The realisation dawning on her that her words to the Marquis rang horribly true. In spite of trying to deny it to herself, she was indeed in love with him.

  Yes, she loved him!

  ‘But it is hopeless,’ she sighed, ‘the best I can hope for is that he treats me with clemency and pays me the money I have earned so far. Then at least I will have a chance of finding sanctuary elsewhere. Perhaps I could take a train to Switzerland and find work teaching cookery to young ladies in Geneva – ’

  Her thoughts was interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of a key in the lock.

  ‘Lord Mountjoy!’ she shrieked, ‘Oh, may the Heavens have mercy on me.’

  The door sprang open and there, with anxious expressions on their faces, were Arthur and Pete.

  Their looks of anxiety soon turned to ones of horror as they took in the sight of Verena, her face filthy and tear stained, her shirt torn clearly showing the white cotton chemise underneath.

  “Blimey!” exclaimed Pete, “Jean’s a girl!”

  “Now you just keep your mouth shut and come and help me,” shouted Arthur. “Some blackguard has tied the poor thing up – look!”

  He pointed to the rough rope that cut into Verena’s delicate wrists.

  “I’ll fetch the Captain,” suggested Pete.

  “You’ll do no such thing, young man, keep wat
ch at the door and I’ll help the young lady.” He produced the knife that he used to cut the seals on wine bottles and began to saw at the rope.

  “Thank you, thank you,” whispered Verena.

  She was close to fainting with relief that it was her friend Arthur who had found her and not Lord Mountjoy.

  With the rope cut, Verena sat up and rubbed her aching wrists. Arthur respectfully averted his eyes whilst she pulled on a robe that was draped over the bed.

  “Now, I think you had better tell me what has happened from the beginning.”

  Verena’s eyes filled with fear. She wanted to speak but found that no sound came from her mouth.

  “Now don’t worry, you are quite safe. Pete won’t let anyone past – not even a pack of rabid dogs!”

  Arthur moved and sat himself down on the chair at the foot of the bed, keeping a respectful distance. He knew instinctively that he was in the presence of a lady – no matter what she may have called herself previously – and that he should treat her accordingly.

  Drying her tears, Verena began to tell her tale.

  “My name is Lady Verena Rosslyn. My father, the Earl, recently remarried after my own dear mother had died six years ago. My new stepmother thought that it was high time that I was married and without any regard for my wishes, took it upon herself to select a husband for me. I was to have no choice in the matter.”

  Arthur shook his head. The story was touching him deeply.

  “I did not think that arranged marriages of this sort were still common practice, my Lady. So many gentlemen and ladies marry for love nowadays that I believed the old ways had died out.”

  “Had it been left to my father, he would have been happy to have allowed me to follow my heart,” continued Verena, “but now he is in thrall of his new wife and so supported her belief that I was too old to be unmarried.”

  “Sounds like she wanted you off her hands,” commented Arthur.

  “You speak the truth, Arthur. She has one goal and one goal only and that is to drive me away from Rosslyn Hall. I knew that I could not bear to marry a man I did not love, so I ran away.”

  “A very brave course of action, my Lady.”

  “It was either that or face a living death as the wife of a cold cruel man who wants no more than a vessel to provide him with an heir. My mother and father married for love and were extremely happy – had my mother been alive she would never have allowed such a turn of events to be put into motion.”

  “So you ran away to sea. But how did you come to pose as a boy?” asked Arthur intrigued.

  Verena pulled from the cabinet the creased sailor’s uniform she had bought in Poole.

  “I tried to board a ship to France, which I know quite well as I went to finishing school in Paris. That much of my ‘false life’ is true. But none were sailing in time for me to make an escape before my father came after me. I saw the notice advertising the post of chef for the Seahorse, but was turned down by the clerk at the counter. He informed me that his Lordship, the Marquis, refused to have women on board –”

  Arthur hesitated and drew a sharp breath.

  “Well, that much is true, my Lady. I have served his Lordship for ten years on his ships and he has never allowed a female to set foot on the deck.”

  Verena looked at him, searchingly.

  “Do you know why?”

  “I’m afraid not. His Lordship is not accustomed to sharing his thoughts and feelings with his servants. His father passed away a few years back and he has increasingly sought solitude. Lord Mountjoy has been the first guest on the Seahorse since his Lordship’s father was alive – they were at boarding school together. Anyway, my Lady, you have not finished telling me your story. We can speak about the Marquis later.”

  Once more, Verena took up the story.

  “When the clerk refused me on the grounds of my sex, I hatched a plot. I recalled the story of how Joan of Arc was forced to dress as a boy to join the French army and afterwards led them to victory – so I followed her example.

  I bribed a sailor boy to sell me a uniform. I cut off my hair and then returned to the ticket office to make enquiries about the job.

  “It was an easy matter for me to change my voice and adopt a French accent – I lived in Paris for over a year just after my mother died and I used to take much pleasure in imitating the pigeon English of my teachers. The clerk did not even look at me twice. He directed me to the Seahorse. I had to cook a dish for the Captain and here I am!”

  “But your clothes are ripped. Pete told us that he lost you in the maze of streets and decided to head back to the ship. He arrived back on board some hours ago – before the Marquis requested that I fetch you to discuss this evening’s meal. I was worried sick when you didn’t return. So tell me, what happened? And why were you tied up in your cabin? It just doesn’t make sense to me, unless I am missing a clue –”

  Arthur stared hard at Verena, but it was with the caring air of a father, rather than the scrutiny of a persecutor.

  Seeing his concern, she began to cry. It had been a long while since she felt that anyone had been concerned for her well-being.

  “I cannot tell you. It is too awful!”

  “But, my Lady, you are lucky that you were not seriously injured or worse – ” His voice trailed off. “You must tell me who has done this to you and the authorities must be informed.”

  Verena’s tears turned to sobs.

  Arthur watched in alarm as her slender body shuddered with emotion. He would have comforted her as Jean, but could not now that he knew who she really was.

  Then a sudden realisation dawned on him as he recalled the events of the past few days. That incident in the galley with the brioche!

  “Lord Mountjoy,” he blurted out.

  There was a long silence during which nothing but Verena’s whimpers could be heard. With full eyes, she looked up at Arthur and simply nodded her affirmation.

  “The cad! The utter cad!” he screamed, his face contorted with anger. “I knew that one was no gentleman.”

  “I have indeed encountered Lord Mountjoy before,” admitted Verena, “it was not long after my father brought Lady Louisa back to Rosslyn Hall as his new wife. My stepmother immediately threw a party for her intimates and Lord Mountjoy was amongst the guests. He pursued me for his entire stay, and made certain suggestions –”

  “Under the very nose of your father? The man is a no-good –”

  Verena silenced him with a look.

  “That may be as well, but I had not given it another thought until his arrival onboard the Seahorse. I had believed that the Marquis’s guest was to be his sweetheart! I could never have imagined that such a fine man would have such a loathsome creature as a friend.”

  “And the incident in the galley?”

  “That was his way of trying to intimidate me. The first time I was introduced to him, Lord Mountjoy declared that he found my face familiar but could not recall from where. Although I could fool others in my disguise as a French chef, I had not counted on having to deceive someone who knew me. It was only a matter of time before Lord Mountjoy remembered where he had seen my face before, and after that, he sought to blackmail me with a most improper suggestion.”

  “My Lady?” queried Arthur.

  Verena took a deep breath, unsure as to whether she should share the full awful truth with Arthur, but her future depended on him, so she composed herself and continued, “He followed me when Pete and I went ashore to buy provisions. We got lost in the maze of streets and we became separated.

  “As I tried to find my way back to the ship, Lord Mountjoy pounced and threatened to unmask me to the Marquis and have me packed off back to England in return for a reward from the Countess. He knew of my disappearance and seized on a chance encounter as a way of making money.

  “Oh, I cannot say what he suggested, but it would have meant the ruination of me. My reputation would have been in tatters. He brought me back here and tried to assault me, then lock
ed me up, saying that if I didn’t submit to his wishes, he would go to the Marquis and reveal me as a liar and an impostor. I have no wish to end up in a Marseilles jail. Arthur, what shall I do?”

  Arthur sat and fumed silently.

  “His Lordship must be told about this. I cannot stand to be under the same roof as that snake Mountjoy.”

  “No, no, you must not.”

  “Why ever not? His Lordship is a complete gentleman and would not hesitate to defend a lady’s honour.”

  “Even a lady who has deceived him into believing that she was a boy and a trained chef? And who had sought employment with him under false pretences?” whispered Verena.

  “His Lordship is an upstanding gentleman and a most compassionate one. Whilst it is true that he can appear aloof and unfriendly – he’s the very devil for not meeting your gaze – he has a strong sense of justice and hates to see cruelty of any kind. I once saw him whip a man who had set about a lame horse. By Jove, he gave that fellow a sound thrashing. ‘See how you like it,’ he said.”

  “But this is not the same as a lame horse being thrashed,” she replied. “I have lied to him. Surely, he will not overlook that?”

  “His Lordship has a forgiving nature. My Lady, you have no choice, he must be informed at once of what has happened with Lord Mountjoy. He is under no illusions as to his character.”

  Verena felt utterly torn. She wanted so much to trust the Marquis – her love for him was inclining her to beg for his compassion, but she ran the risk of losing him altogether if she confessed all.

  Would a man such as he view her as spoilt goods after the day’s events?

  Could he ever love a woman whom Lord Mountjoy had pursued?

  “He is returning at six o’clock for my decision,” explained Verena, “if I do not comply with his demands, he will have me arrested.”

  “Pardon me, my Lady, but I do not think his Lordship would gladly suffer a swarm of French policemen running over the Seahorse. It would cause a scandal. No, you have to tell him exactly what you have told me – with respect, my Lady, there is no other way.”