In the Arms of Love Read online

  They went round the house together and Aspasia was thrilled and delighted by the pictures, which were mostly of sporting subjects.

  There was so much to see and so many questions that she wanted to ask that she was quite surprised when it was teatime.

  She was pouring from a very fine silver teapot made by a Master craftsman in the fifteenth century, when the door was opened.

  “The Reverend Theophilus Stanton, my Lord,” the butler announced.

  Aspasia gave a cry of joy and jumped up to kiss her uncle.

  “Oh, Uncle Theophilus! You are here! I am – so glad to see you.”

  “I am glad you are all right, my dear, but whatever is happening?”

  The Reverend Theophilus, the Marquis noticed, was a good-looking man. Although he had the expression and the gait of a scholar who was always poring over books, there was, he was to find later, a twinkle in his eyes when his sense of humour was aroused.

  Now, however, he was only looking anxious as he held out his hand to the Marquis and said,

  “You were kind enough to send your carriage for me, my Lord, and your Agent has been relating to me some very unpleasant incidents that have occurred on the borders of your estate and the one we live in. But I cannot believe that that is the reason why you have such urgent need of my company.”

  “No, it is a little more complicated than that,” the Marquis replied.

  Aspasia asked her uncle to sit down and while she poured him out a cup of tea she told him that the Duchess had learned of Jerry’s identity.

  The Reverend Theophilus looked worried.

  “How could Her Grace have found out?”

  Aspasia chose her words with care.

  “One of her grooms called yesterday with a note for you, Uncle Theophilus, and unfortunately he saw Jerry and he must have noticed the striking likeness he has to our – father.”

  The Reverend Theophilus sighed.

  “I was afraid something like this might happen sooner or later, since Jerry is so exactly like his father. It would be impossible for anybody who knew the Duke not to notice the resemblance.”

  “Now it has been noticed,” the Marquis said, “we have to prove that Jerry is the rightful heir to the title and, because I feel that the most important thing is that he should be safe while negotiations take place, I have sent him away.”

  He explained briefly where Jerry was and the Reverend Theophilus, although slightly bewildered by what had happened, accepted it philosophically.

  “I was sure it was a secret we could not keep for ever,” he said at length, “but I am afraid there will be a great deal of unpleasantness when the Duchess learns of it.”

  “She has learned of it,” the Marquis replied, “and the reason why Aspasia and her brother came to me for my help was that they saw Bollard and some of his men ransacking your bedroom.”

  “Good gracious!” the Reverend Theophilus exclaimed and then added in a more serious tone, “I presume they were looking for evidence of a marriage.”

  “Yes,” the Marquis agreed, “but fortunately I have it safely here and I am going to take it upstairs now and put it away in a safe.”

  He rose as he spoke and Aspasia looked at her uncle.

  “Martha is upset as you can imagine,” he said. “I think, my dear, you should go and talk to her and reassure her that everything will be all right.”

  “I hope it will be,” Aspasia said in a low voice.

  Talking to Martha, Aspasia managed to hide from her that she had been to Grimstone House and what she had found there.

  Instead she told Martha that the letter, which had been brought by a groom to the Vicarage, had been to dismiss her uncle from the Parish.

  “I’ve never heard anythin’ so wicked in all my life!” Martha cried. “Her Grace’s a monster and there’s no two ways about it. If you asks me, Miss Aspasia, it would be a good thing if we could all go away from Little Medlock and never come back!”

  “I think that is what we are – going to – do,” Aspasia murmured.

  “Well, I for one shan’t cry any tears at leavin’ it,” Martha said tartly. “And now perhaps you’ll tell me what you are goin’ to wear for dinner if you’ve come here in nothin’ but your ridin’ habit!”

  “I certainly will not look very smart,” Aspasia agreed, “but there is nothing I can do about it.”

  She did, however, feel rather embarrassed when she had to go downstairs wearing her riding skirt and the muslin blouse that she wore with it.

  She was very conscious that her skirt was almost threadbare and, although the blouse was pretty, it certainly did not compare with the elaborate white evening gown that she had worn last night.

  Martha had brushed her hair and it shone with red lights like the setting sun and the Marquis found it impossible to look at anything else as she came into the drawing room before dinner and the light from the candles seemed to make her hair gleam with a light of its own.

  As he set out to make himself extremely agreeable both to the Reverend Theophilus and to Aspasia, dinner was a meal when they laughed a great deal while they enjoyed superlative food and excellent wine.

  When it was over, the Marquis was aware that, after the dramatics of last night and the fears and apprehensions she had gone through today, Aspasia was very tired.

  “I suggest you go to bed,” he said. “We shall be leaving early tomorrow morning and I want you to have a proper rest.”

  “I – do feel a little – sleepy,” Aspasia confessed.

  “Then go to sleep,” he urged, “and don’t worry about anything. Although I feel certain that you will not be disturbed tonight, there will be extra nightwatchmen on duty with instructions to wake me if anything unusual occurs.”

  “I am sure you need to sleep too,” Aspasia suggested.

  She smiled at him quite naturally as she was thinking of how early they had both risen.

  Then, as she met his eyes, she remembered how they had slept together in the same bed and she blushed.

  She said ‘goodnight’ to her uncle and went upstairs to Martha who was waiting to help her undress.

  “I’ve found a nightgown for you,” she said, “but it’s not what I considers very respectable.”

  Aspasia looked at it with interest.

  “Apparently it was left behind by one of his Lordship’s guests,” Martha explained, “Lady somebody or other, I can’t remember her name, but the housemaids tell me she was a great beauty. That’s as may be, but her nightgown’s nothin’ but a bit of lawn and lace!”

  Actually Aspasia thought that the nightgown was very pretty and she wished that she could have worn it last night when the Marquis was with her.

  Then she was surprised at herself for even thinking such a thing and quickly climbed into bed.

  “If you want me,” Martha was saying, “pull the bell that rings in the housemaids’ room. I’ll arrange for one of them to fetch me.”

  “I am sure I shall not need anything,” Aspasia replied. “Goodnight, Martha, and it is lovely to be here. I should feel very frightened if we were at home now.”

  She knew that Martha wanted to agree with her, but thought it best to say nothing and merely blew out the candles.

  “Goodnight, God bless you,” she said.

  Then Aspasia was alone.

  She fell asleep instantly and a long time later when she was having a complicated dream in which she was running away from the Duchess who was pursuing her with a glass of wine in her hand she awoke with a start.

  The room was in darkness, but there was a silver streak of light on either side of the curtain, and she knew that the moon must be high in the sky.

  She thought of Jerry and Mr. Caversham driving towards Dover and reckoned that, if they drove as fast as the Prince Regent had done on his record drive when he was Prince of Wales, they would soon be there.

  ‘I wish I could be with them,’ she thought, thinking what fun it would be to be on a yacht.

  Then, as
she thought about it, she was quite certain that she would rather be with the Marquis. He was so interesting and he had made her laugh when he was taking her round the house to view his pictures.

  ‘It must have been boring for him,’ she thought with a little sigh, ‘but very very exciting for me.’

  She closed her eyes thinking that she would recall all over again what he had said to her and then make sure that she never forgot anything.

  Then she heard a slight sound.

  It was very slight and yet it was undoubtedly a sound that was not part of the night.

  She listened and suddenly she was afraid.

  All the fears that had swept over her when she saw Bollard ransacking her uncle’s bedroom came back and with them the fear that she had felt last night from the evil that emanated from the Duchess and Mrs. Fielding.

  Then came a thousand other fears that had accumulated over the years to hang over them all like a menacing cloud that she could never escape from.

  Hardly realising what she was doing, yet feeling that she must reassure herself that here in the Marquis’s house she was safe, she slipped out of bed and crept towards the window.

  She drew the curtains aside to peep through them.

  The moonlight was blinding and her bedroom, which looked out onto the front of the house, had a view of the drive, which was bordered by high rhododendron bushes and trees.

  Everything seemed quite quiet.

  Then down the drive in the shadows she saw something that held her attention.

  For a moment it was difficult to see what it was. Then she realised that it was the back of a carriage.

  Her heart gave a frightened leap and for the first time she looked down.

  There was a small balcony beneath her window. It was merely part of the ornamentation of the house and there was no room for anybody to do anything more than just stand on it.

  It had a grey stone balustrade and in the centre of it she saw a rope that was moving.

  For a moment her brain seemed to stop functioning and she could not think and certainly could not imagine what the rope was doing there.

  Then it suddenly struck her that it was a rope that a man could climb up and into her room.

  She did not wait to see anymore.

  She only knew that the carriage and the rope told her what was happening and she was filled with a wild uncontrollable fear that drove her to seek the only person who could save her.

  She moved backwards and ran silently across the thick carpet and opened the door of her bedroom.

  Then she was speeding down the passage to the room at the far end where she had said ‘goodbye’ to Jerry.

  She did not stop to think or remember the nightwatchmen on duty.

  She pulled open the door of the Marquis’s bedroom and finding it impossible to speak, for no sound would come from her throat, she merely tore towards the bed where she knew he would be lying to fling herself against him.

  *

  The Marquis was not asleep because he found that he had so much to think about that he was not at all tired.

  He had actually been sitting up against his pillows making notes on a pad that was by his bed so that he would not forget all the things he had to do in the morning.

  He had just put the pad down and blown out the candles, but was still in a sitting position looking across the room at the moonlight that was streaming through an uncurtained window.

  He too had been thinking of Charlie and Jerry journeying towards Dover and wishing in a way he could be with them.

  The danger of knowing that they might be pursued would be exciting, but his yacht waiting for them in the Harbour would constitute a place of safety where it would be almost impossible for the enemy to encroach.

  Meanwhile, the Marquis thought, with a smile of satisfaction, everything was going according to plan, but it was always a mistake to be optimistic until one had actually won the battle.

  He was just thinking that he should throw aside his pillows to lie down and try to sleep when the door of his room burst open.

  The next minute someone small and terrified was clinging to him and he could feel her body trembling against his.

  As his arms went round Aspasia, she gasped,

  “Th-they are – there outside – my window, they – have come to take me – away, oh – save me – save me!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  For a moment the Marquis could hardly believe what Aspasia was saying as she cried in a frantic tone,

  “Bollard will – torture me to – tell him – where Jerry is. I cannot – bear it!”

  The Marquis lifted her away from him and onto the bed.

  Then, as he stepped onto the floor, he said,

  “No one will hurt you. Stay here and I will lock you in. Try not to be afraid.”

  The calm way he spoke checked Aspasia’s gasping cries for a moment. Then, as he put on a long dark robe and reached for the loaded pistol that was beside his bed, she said,

  “Be – c-careful. Please – be careful. Supposing they – hurt you?”

  “I shall be all right,” the Marquis said. “Get under the bedclothes and keep warm until I return.”

  He went from the room as he spoke and she heard the key turn in the lock.

  Then, because she wanted to hide, she did as he said and slipped into the bed and pulled the bedclothes over her head.

  The Marquis walked quickly down the passage.

  He considered whether he should call the nightwatchmen, but then decided he had no wish to let the intruders escape before he had a chance to deal with them.

  Aspasia’s door was open and the Marquis moved silently towards the window, pulling the curtain only a few inches aside so that he could peep through it.

  He saw, as Aspasia had, the back of the carriage in the shadows and the rope round the balustrade.

  It was still moving and he was aware that it had been thrown skilfully from the ground with a well-muffled hook on the end of it, to catch into the top of the balustrade, which made it easy for an athletic man to climb.

  At the window that opened onto the balcony the Marquis was in a position where he could see through the curtain and be directly opposite the rope on the balustrade.

  Everything was very quiet and he was aware that the man or men who were menacing Aspasia were very experienced at their job.

  He wondered if they were in fact anticipating that this bedroom which a light shone from might contain Jerry, as it was he they wished to assassinate.

  At the same time it seemed feasible that an alternative was to take away Aspasia and, as she had said, torture her into telling them where they could find her brother.

  The Marquis waited.

  He had very acute hearing and he was sure now as the rope tightened that the man was gradually approaching the balcony from the ground.

  It was not a very long ascent. Actually he had to admit that he had not calculated when planning his defence of the house that the Duchess’s men would be so daring as to enter from the first floor.

  A hand appeared to grasp the top of the balustrade, then another and a moment later the Marquis peeping through only the merest crack in the curtain could see a man’s face who he was certain was Bollard.

  The description he had been given by Jackson fitted him exactly and he could not help thinking that it was quite an achievement for a man who was over forty to climb so silently.

  Then, as the intruder flung his leg over the balustrade, the Marquis acted.

  With the unerring aim of a crack shot he fired to hit Bollard exactly on the kneecap, which he was aware would not only be crippling but also extremely painful.

  The explosion of the gun seemed to echo through the still air.

  With a shriek Bollard tumbled backwards and crashed onto the ground below.

  The Marquis pulled back the curtain to step out onto the balcony.

  First he saw two men running in the direction of the carriage and making no effort to go to the
assistance of their fallen accomplice.

  The fall had not however rendered Bollard unconscious and he pulled himself up onto his elbow to yell after them,

  “Help me, damn you! For God’s sake, help me!”

  The men went on running and, as the Marquis thought that by this time the nightwatchmen would have heard the shot and come hurrying from the house, he saw a horse emerge from the shadows.

  At first he thought that it was being ridden by a slim young man. Then in the moonlight he could see the rider’s face quite clearly and realised with astonishment that it was the Duchess.

  She pulled her horse to a standstill and looking down at the man on the ground she said venomously,

  “You blundering fool, you have failed! Now you will be taken away for questioning and that is something I cannot allow.”

  As she spoke, she pulled a pistol from a holster in her saddle and as she did so Bollard, as he sensed what she was about to do, took a pistol from the pocket of his coat.

  It was just a question of who was the quicker and even as Bollard pulled the trigger of his weapon the Duchess’s finger tightened on hers.

  Two explosions rang out almost simultaneously and for a moment the watching Marquis thought that they had both missed.

  Then, as the Duchess’s horse reared up in fright and threw her, he realised from the way that she fell to the ground that she was dead.

  By the time the Marquis was downstairs and had joined the nightwatchmen who were hurrying out of the house after unlocking the doors, he found that both the Duchess and Bollard were dead while there was no sign of the other men who had accompanied them.

  With his usual quickness of mind the Marquis decided that the last thing he wanted was an enquiry as to why the Duchess and Bollard were both found dead outside his house.

  Instead he had them loaded into the back of a brake and sent them back to the Grimstone Estate with two men who had been in his service for a long time and whom he could trust implicitly.

  He ordered that the two bodies should be set down near Bollard’s house and as both men knew where it was he calculated that it would not be difficult for them to unload the corpses and be back in Newmarket well before it was dawn.