The Castle Read online

  A quick glance in the mirror soon confirmed that her appearance should please even the fiercest critic.

  As she came downstairs, Lord Waterford walked over to her.

  “You look wonderful,” he breathed before turning to his sister. “I am the luckiest of men to be accompanied by the two most beautiful women in the whole country!”

  Valeria felt an extraordinary lifting of her heart.

  The look in his eyes could almost convince her that he did still wish to marry her.

  She allowed him to hand her into the carriage and his touch on her arm seemed to burn into her flesh.

  All through the journey through the crowded streets to St. Paul’s Cathedral, Valeria was aware of nothing else but Lord Waterford sitting opposite her in the open carriage.

  “I feel quite like a Queen myself,” laughed Susan, waving at the crowds lining the Strand and Fleet Street as they cheered the long line of carriages.

  Valeria laughed with her, but her attention was for Lord Waterford who pointed out sights of interest.

  He had secured seats for them in one of the stands overlooking the steps of St. Paul’s.

  The Queen’s arrival was preceded with parades of Cavalry and endless Highlanders proudly playing bagpipes until Susan said she would scream with the noise.

  Later, all that Valeria found she could remember was the sound of cheers gradually growing louder as the Queen’s open carriage came into view.

  Her Majesty was dressed in grey and black and looked quite composed, holding a long handled black lace parasol.

  The Service was held in the open air with the Queen sitting in her carriage, too frail to climb the steps.

  “Such a minute figure to represent the might of the British Empire,” murmured Lord Waterford into Valeria’s ear as the ceremony drew to a close.

  She turned to him eagerly.

  “I was thinking exactly the same!”

  “You were?”

  His eyes met hers and there was something in them that made her blush. She could feel the colour rising up her neck to her face.

  She was rescued by a mighty cheer that went up as the Queen’s carriage moved forward to begin the journey back to Buckingham Palace.

  *

  On their return to Waterford House arrangements for the ball claimed all Valeria’s attention.

  Between all the details that needed checking and trying to soothe Susan’s nerves, she seemed to have no opportunity to spend time with Lord Waterford.

  Finally Valeria went to dress.

  “Oh, miss, you do look wonderful,” enthused Mary, when she was ready.

  There were white roses in Valeria’s hair and she was wearing a white silk dress with gathered and puffed sleeves that left her shoulders bare.

  More roses were placed between her breasts. Long white gloves and white silk shoes completed her ensemble.

  Valeria hoped that Lord Waterford would admire her appearance as much as Mary did.

  She picked up a white lace fan, thanked her maid for her help and left her bedroom.

  Downstairs, she saw Lord Waterford waiting in the hall. But instead of looking up to see her descend, he was reading a note he had just been handed. Whatever the note contained, it obviously pleased him as his face lit up.

  Then Susan joined Valeria on the stairs and called to her brother. He stuffed the note into the pocket of his dress trousers and looked up.

  “How beautiful you both are,” he murmured softly as they descended.

  “You look so distinguished tonight, Charles dear,” cooed Susan, taking his arm as she reached his side.

  Valeria envied her. She would have liked so much to feel able to slip her hand through his other arm.

  As she followed them into the drawing room, she could not help wondering what the contents of the note had been. Was it to arrange another assignation after the ball?

  The question nagged at her all evening, even when Lord Waterford claimed a waltz from her.

  “Your ball is a great success,” Valeria said as he skilfully steered her round the floor.

  He gave her the smile that she always thought held great sweetness.

  “You have helped Susan so much. If it is a success tonight, much of the credit must go to you.”

  Valeria glowed.

  She could not bring herself to conduct the sort of light conversation that was expected at such affairs.

  She just wanted above all to ask him if he intended renewing his suit, but that was such an impossible subject to raise at this or indeed any other moment.

  Maybe if he asked her to return with him and Susan to The Castle, she would be able to gauge whether he still wanted to marry her.

  Meanwhile, she said nothing, glorying in the close contact with him as he swept her round the floor.

  He was a marvellous dancer and the music seemed to flow through him and through his hands into Valeria.

  When the last strains of the waltz faded, she stood breathing rapidly beside him as they clapped the orchestra.

  “Thank you,” Lord Waterford said and, again, his eyes seemed to say what his lips were not prepared to utter.

  “I see your next partner is coming to snatch you away,” he declared as a young man came up eagerly.

  “And you must claim your next partner too.”

  His hand rested on her arm for a moment, as though he would have liked to take her away into a quiet corner.

  It was not to be.

  The evening was an enormous success.

  Everyone was talking about the Service at St. Paul’s Cathedral that morning and how fitting it was they should be attending such a wonderful ball.

  But for Valeria, the evening was bittersweet.

  There was no other opportunity to dance with Lord Waterford. Instead she watched him dance with a series of women, including Lady Mere, who seemed in scintillating form, whispering into his ear as he danced closely with her.

  Valeria then tore her gaze away and concentrated on entertaining her partner.

  Gradually she sensed that many of the guests were waiting for an announcement of Lord Waterford’s and her engagement.

  As the evening drew towards a close, the whispers grew louder.

  Now they appeared to express disappointment and many eyes were turned on Valeria.

  Her cheeks burning, she still held her head high and flirted determinedly with young men she found boring.

  She wished so much for the end of the evening.

  It was well into the early hours before she was able to retreat to her bedroom.

  Mary was waiting to help her out of her clothes and she was avid for a description of every aspect of the ball.

  As soon as her dress had been unfastened, however, Valeria sent her to bed, promising to give her a complete account the next day.

  At last she was on her own.

  Starting to brush her hair, Valeria wandered over to the window, looking out at Green Park.

  Then to her consternation she saw Lord Waterford walk steadily down the garden to the gate into the Park.

  It was as though a knife had been stuck in her heart.

  Hardly knowing what she was doing, she pulled on the nearest day dress, slipped into a pair of pumps, hastily tied her hair back and then flew down the stairs without a sound.

  There were no servants in the hall or in the drawing room as she ran out onto the terrace and down to the gate.

  Valeria was determined to find out the truth about Lord Waterford’s assignations.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The night air was warm but clouds obscured any moonlight.

  At the gate leading into the Park, Valeria paused, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness.

  She was aware of the tall pine trees and the rustle of their leaves but little else.

  Then, as she stood by the open gate, she began to see figures, obviously tramps, lying on the grass, some on newspapers, others with cardboard laid over their bodies.

  They all seemed to
be asleep.

  But where was Lord Waterford?

  Had he walked across the Park and into Piccadilly? Had he been heading for Lady Mere’s house?

  Then, suddenly, Valeria saw him.

  Even through the murky gloom, the outline of his figure was unmistakeable.

  Lord Waterford was no more than just a few dozen yards away from her and, instead of embracing Lady Mere, he seemed to be bending down over one of the down-and-outs lying on the grass.

  She shrank back against the gate afraid he would look up and spot the pale glow of her dress.

  Instead to her horror she saw a figure approaching Lord Waterford with a cudgel raised at his head.

  She instantly screamed out a warning.

  Lord Waterford looked up, but a savage blow felled him to the ground.

  Shouting for help, Valeria ran forward and then saw two tramps weigh into the attacker with their fists.

  He was very tall and looked strong, but such was the ferocity of the assault, he backed away from the doughty fighters. Valeria realised that his head was covered in an all-embracing hood that hid any identifying features.

  Ignoring the fight, she flung herself onto the ground beside Lord Waterford’s horrifyingly still figure.

  She tried to turn him, but his weight was too great.

  She ran her fingers over the back of his head – his hair felt damp and sticky whilst his breathing was heavy and intermittent.

  She looked around desperately for help.

  The recumbent figures were stirring, roused by the grunts of the fight. Several went to join in, others melted away into the darkness.

  Faced with a growing number to contend with, the attacker suddenly broke away with a curse and ran towards Piccadilly.

  Valeria longed to run for help, but feared to leave Lord Waterford unprotected.

  At that moment two footmen appeared at the gate equipped with flaming torches.

  “Over here,” Valeria called out. “Come quickly.”

  The footmen hurried over, their torches lighting a path through the darkness. They were in shirtsleeves as no time had been lost donning their usual gold-braided livery.

  “Lord Waterford has been viciously attacked and he is unconscious,” Valeria gasped as they approached.

  She suddenly became aware of how very strange it all must seem to them – Lord Waterford lying senseless in the Park, she kneeling beside him.

  “We heard you scream, miss,” volunteered John, the elder of the two footmen.

  “Thank Heavens. Now hold your torches over here so that I can see how badly his Lordship has been hurt.”

  She took a quick intake of breath as she saw the blood pouring from a wound at the back of his head. She looked at her hands and they, too, were covered in blood.

  For a moment Valeria had to close her eyes.

  She fought with herself not to swoon, then looked up at the footmen.

  “You will need to bring a stretcher to carry Lord Waterford back to the house. And a doctor must be sent for immediately.”

  “Who attacked his Lordship, miss?” asked the other footman.

  “I don’t know, Martin,” she replied distractedly.

  She looked around for the two down-and-outs who had come to Lord Waterford’s aid, but they had vanished.

  “Go, please!” she instructed the footmen. “No, one of you stay here with me. Whoever it was who attacked him could return. The torchlight should keep us safe.”

  Then, heedless of any propriety, she lifted her skirt and, using her teeth, tore a strip off the end of her petticoat.

  She folded the strip into two and, her heart in her mouth, applied the strip round the dreadful wound on Lord Waterford’s bleeding head.

  John held the torch high. An intake of breath from him underlined the seriousness of the wound.

  As soon as the bandage was wound round his head, it reddened with blood.

  Valeria became frantic to have him removed from the scene back into the house.

  “Why are they taking so long?”

  “I’m sure, miss, Martin is going just as quick as he can,” said John. “We all think the world of his Lordship. If there’s anything we can do to help, we’ll be doing it, you can be sure of that!”

  Valeria believed him.

  She took hold of Lord Waterford’s hand.

  It felt cold and clammy. She tried to find his pulse, but its erratic beat frightened her, so she just held his hand.

  Eventually a team of servants, most of them only half dressed, came running over the garden carrying a door. Among them was the butler, the only one properly dressed.

  He organised the gentle lifting of Lord Waterford onto the door.

  The wounded man groaned as they lifted him.

  “Careful,” cautioned Valeria.

  She took hold of his hand again as they raised the door and its load from the ground.

  Awkwardly the little group carried Lord Waterford through the French windows and into the house.

  “Where to, Miss Montford?” asked the butler.

  “Can you carry his Lordship up to his bedroom?”

  “Of course, miss.”

  The stairs had to be taken slowly. Valeria followed closely behind, terrified that they would let Lord Waterford slip off the door.

  But somehow the little team managed to carry him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

  George, Lord Waterford’s valet, took a towel from the washstand and placed it on the bed and then his body was lifted as gently as they could onto the bed.

  There came a thunderous knock on the door.

  “That will be Doctor Marshall,” said the butler and left the room.

  Doctor Marshall was a small busy-looking man who appeared to have dressed hastily.

  He crossed to the bed, surveyed his patient and tutted under his breath as he took in the ghastly whiteness of Lord Waterford’s face, the heavy breathing and the closed eyes.

  Placing a hand on the bandage, he enquired,

  “Who applied this?”

  “I did, sir,” volunteered Valeria. “I saw him hit on the head and when I saw the way that blood was pouring from his scalp, I had to do something.”

  Her gaze then returned to Lord Waterford’s face. It looked so white and pinched, as though he was preparing to depart this life.

  “Will he be all right, doctor?”

  His kind eyes looked at her closely for a moment.

  “I need to examine him,” he replied briefly. “Do I address Lady Waterford?”

  Valeria blushed deeply and shook her head.

  “I am Miss Montford. I am a guest here.”

  The doctor gave a little nod of his head.

  “I shall need two bowls of warm water, some clean towels and shaving gear.”

  Two footmen and George disappeared.

  The doctor asked for help in turning the wounded man so that he could examine the injury to the back of his head and the butler assisted him.

  Undoing Valeria’s bandage, the doctor asked,

  “Has Lady Stratfield been informed of her brother’ injury?”

  Valeria looked at the butler, who shook his head.

  “It should be done.”

  The butler looked anything but willing to undertake this task.

  “Shall I?” asked Valeria, trying not to see the mess of blood and tangled hair that removing the bandage had revealed.

  “If you would be so kind, Miss Montford.”

  Susan was fast asleep.

  Valeria gently shook her shoulder.

  Susan opened her eyes, stared uncomprehendingly for a moment and then pulled herself up in bed.

  “What can have happened? Why are you dressed like that, Valeria?”

  Her voice was sharp and anxious.

  Using as few words as possible, Valeria told her all that had happened.

  Susan shrieked.

  And then shrieked again.

  “No, no, no! It can’t be so. Tell me it isn’t so.”


  Valeria sat on the bed and hugged her.

  “I am afraid it is so, Susan, dearest.”

  “And he might die, you say?”

  “Doctor Marshall has to examine him before he can say how serious the injury is. Will you not come along to your brother’s bedside and see him for yourself?”

  Susan shrank back in her bed.

  “I can’t,” she whimpered, waving her hands around in front of her face. “Don’t ask me. I cannot bear blood. Really, I cannot. Oh, God,” her voice rose again. “I just cannot bear it if he dies – ”

  She collapsed onto her pillows crying hysterically.

  Valeria sat with her for a few minutes, stroking her hand and trying to soothe her. But her mind was back in that other bedroom with Lord Waterford.

  Soon she could not bear not to be there, so she rose.

  “I will find your maid and send her to you, Susan, but I have to go back to your brother.”

  Susan moaned.

  “Send me news. Send that he will be all right. He must be all right.”

  Valeria returned to Lord Waterford’s room and then approached the bed.

  Beside it was a bowl of reddened water and another full of locks of bloody hair and flecks of shaving cream.

  The doctor was finishing bandaging his head.

  Lord Waterford’s face remained terrifyingly white and his breathing still resembled snoring.

  The doctor then stood back from the bed, picked up a clean towel and wiped his hands.

  “Does Lady Stratfield come to her brother’s side, Miss Montford?” he asked, waving one of the footmen to remove the two bowls.

  “I am afraid that she’s too upset to come. Can you please tell me how Lord Waterford is?”

  The doctor’s jacket had been discarded and now he started to roll down the sleeves of his shirt.

  “We need to undress him,” he addressed the butler. He turned to Valeria. “Since Lady Stratfield cannot attend her brother, Miss Montford, if you will wait downstairs, I will report to you as soon as his Lordship is settled.”

  Valeria took a last lingering look at his pinched and pale face.

  His heavy breathing seemed to follow her as she walked slowly downstairs full of trepidation.

  Soup and brandy had been laid on in the morning room and despite the fact that it was a mild summer night a fire had been lit.