The Temptation of Torilla Read online

  Then abruptly, as if he forced himself to do so, the Marquis looked away from her and said in a different tone of voice,

  “Your father sends you his love and hopes you are enjoying yourself.”

  “M-my – father?”

  Torilla thought she could not have heard him correctly.

  “I have been to Barrowfield,” the Marquis explained. “I spent some time with your father and I think you will be glad to know that everything he suggested will be put into operation immediately.”

  “Do you – mean – ?” Torilla asked, and she could hardly breathe the words.

  “The Buddle air-pump, the safety lamps, new water pumps, better safety precautions – there is a whole list of them!”

  “I don’t – understand,” Torilla stuttered, but there was a light in her eyes.

  “You were right,” the Marquis said, “completely and absolutely right in what you said to me. The pit is indeed a hell that should never have been allowed to exist.”

  Torilla could only stare at him speechless as he went on,

  “I have sacked the overseer and your father helped me to engage another man. I have forbidden the employment of children under the age of sixteen in my mine and where it is possible women will be excluded altogether.”

  Torilla clasped her hands together.

  “I think I am – dreaming.”

  “You father said very much the same thing,” the Marquis smiled. “There will be presents of money and pieces of beef at Festivals and for the old, and, as in the Fitzwilliam mines, work incentives – four shillings for ‘takking brass’ when the men work a full week of six days, besides an increase in their ordinary wages.”

  Torilla gave a little cry of joy.

  “How could you do – anything so wonderful – so marvellous?”

  “It is only what you told me to do.”

  “But I never thought – I never dreamt – ”

  She suddenly put her hands up to her face.

  “I knew afterwards that I should have asked you to help instead of attacking you as I – did.”

  “I deserved it. I am the last person to plead ignorance when it is a case of neglect. I deserved everything you said to me, Torilla, and a great deal more.”

  “And now it will – all be – changed,” she sighed and there were tears in her eyes.

  “A coal mine is always a coal mine and not a pleasant place for anyone, especially someone like you,” the Marquis answered. “But your father is satisfied.”

  “How can I ever thank you?”

  Even as she spoke, the colour rose in her face as she remembered that she had asked the same question once before.

  The Marquis, she knew, thought the same and once again her eyes were held by his.

  “Now that is settled,” the Marquis said very quietly, “what are you going to do about us?”

  Torilla was still.

  “Us?” she whispered.

  “Yes – us!” the Marquis repeated. “We both knew what happened when I kissed you, and yet I let you go because I believed I would never see you again and perhaps in time I could forget.”

  He drew in his breath.

  “But we have met again, Torilla, and now I know I cannot live without you.”

  It was what she felt about him, Torilla thought wildly, and she knew it was the answer to everything that had perplexed and confused her.

  Everything that she had been feeling, searching for and worried about was because she had fallen in love when he touched her lips.

  She had tried to fight against it, she had tried to deny it, but it was love. The love her mother had felt for her father and he for her.

  Love that was Divine, and yet very human, love that made it impossible for her to think of ever belonging to any other man.

  “I love you, Torilla!”

  The Marquis spoke the words very slowly and yet they seemed to vibrate through her.

  “B-Beryl!”

  She whispered the word, and yet it seemed to Torilla as she spoke that it was trumpeted round the room to echo and re-echo.

  “Yes – Beryl,” the Marquis answered.

  He walked towards the mantelpiece to stand looking down into the fireplace that was filled with flowers as if he thought somehow amongst them he would find a solution.

  Torilla stood looking at him, his broad shoulders, his athletic body, his dark head.

  Now the barriers were down she knew that she loved him, with her whole being, her mind, her body and her soul.

  Everything she was, was his.

  “I will go to Beryl and tell her the truth,” the Marquis suggested.

  “No, you – cannot do – that.”

  “I will ask her to release me from a marriage, which could only bring unhappiness to both of us.”

  “Beryl wants to – marry you,” Torilla said, “and you know as well as I do that it would – hurt her Socially in a – manner that would be – indefensibly cruel if you jilted her.”

  “Perhaps I could persuade her to refuse me?”

  Torilla made a helpless little gesture with her hands.

  “She would never do that. And you know as well there could be no happiness for us if we – hurt Beryl and caused a scandal.”

  The Marquis turned to face her.

  “You are saying all the things I expected you to say, but how can we go on living without each other?”

  His face was suddenly drawn and there was an expression of pain in his eyes that made Torilla long to put her arms round him and comfort him.

  She knew that what he was suggesting was wrong, completely wrong.

  At the same time she thought wonderingly that she had taken it for granted that he was asking her to marry him, although he had not actually pronounced the words.

  Once again he read her thoughts and said quietly,

  “You know that I want more than my hope of Heaven to make you my wife, Torilla. I have laughed at love – I told my mother it was something that would never happen to me. But I have been confounded by my own words.”

  He paused before he went on,

  “I love you as I did not think it possible to love any woman. Your face is always before my eyes. At night I hold you in my arms as I held you once, then, fool that I was, I let you go.”

  “It was – wrong of me to let you – kiss me,” Torilla whispered.

  “It was not wrong but inevitable, something that was bound to happen, because, without knowing it, I have always been looking for you and I think perhaps, my darling, you have been looking for me.”

  That was true, Torilla thought, but she had not been aware of it. Only now did she know that he was everything she had ever dreamt of – imagined – her ideal.

  “Would you be brave enough to come away with me?” the Marquis asked. “To go abroad where we could be married and live quietly for a few years until the scandal and gossip had died down. People forget very quickly.”

  “How could we – do that to – Beryl?” Torilla questioned.

  Equally she thought that nothing could be more wonderful, more perfect, than to be with him and to have nothing to distract their minds from each other.

  Then she told herself it would be wrong and wicked to take her happiness at the expense of someone she loved as she loved Beryl.

  “I love you,” she said softly, “I shall always – love you and there could never be – another man I could marry.”

  At her words the Marquis took a step towards her, a light in his eyes.

  “But I cannot go – away with you,” Torilla finished. “We must – forget that we have ever said such things to – each other. You belong to Beryl. She has promised to become your wife and I would not allow you to do – anything that was – dishonourable.”

  Her voice trembled on the word and the Marquis with an inexpressible pain in his voice responded,

  “I might have known it would be a punishment for all my sins that I should fall in love with someone as good and pure as you.”
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  “I am neither,” Torilla asserted, “but we could not build our happiness on – cruelty.”

  The Marquis sighed and it seemed to Torilla almost a cry of pain.

  “Perhaps we will find a solution,” he smurmured, but his voice was dull.

  “There will not be one,” Torilla answered despairingly, “but I shall pray for you and wherever you go, whatever you do – I shall pray that my love will keep you safe and – perhaps in some little way inspire you.”

  “As you have inspired me already. Ever since you and I met, Torilla, I have found myself thinking in a manner I have never thought before, wanting to give instead of to take.”

  He put his hand over his eyes as he continued,

  “What I saw the conditions in the mine that bears my name, I was appalled, humiliated and ashamed. I would not have felt like that if I had not known you.”

  “You would have had eyes to see what was wrong and you would have done something to improve it.”

  The Marquis looked at her and then he asked,

  “You believe in me?”

  “I believe in you, I trust you and I think you are not only magnificent, but very – very wonderful.”

  There was a little break in her voice and her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the Marquis.

  “Then I will try not to fail you, Torilla.”

  It was in the nature of a vow.

  As if they both knew their conversation had come to an end and there was nothing left to say, they moved towards the door.

  The Marquis opened it for her and they went out.

  Torilla felt as they walked away down the passage that they had left their hearts behind in that quiet fragrant room.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Beryl burst into the room where Torilla was writing a letter to her father.

  “What do you think, Torilla?” she asked excitedly. “Gallen fought a duel this morning at dawn!”

  As she spoke, she walked across the room to the mirror so she did not see Torilla spring up from the desk, her face deathly pale, her lips moving although no sound came from them.

  “You must admit it is really romantic,” Beryl went on, regarding her reflection, “because of course, he fought over me!”

  “He is – not hurt?”

  Torilla managed to say the words but they were hardly audible.

  “Charles tells me that Gallen received a slight scratch, but his opponent is at death’s door.”

  “Who – was it?”

  Torilla could not help the question even though she knew the answer.

  “A man called Sir Jocelyn Threnton,” Beryl replied, taking off her bonnet and smoothing down her hair. “I believe I have met him, but I cannot remember what he looks like.”

  “And the Marquis is – not really h-hurt?”

  “He should not actually have received a scratch, so Charles says,” Beryl answered, “but Sir Jocelyn fired before the referee had counted ten.”

  She gave a little laugh.

  “It is so like Gallen’s luck for him to sense what would happen and, as Sir Jocelyn fired, he stepped to one side. Instead of killing him the bullet merely grazed his left arm.”

  Beryl made a sound of delight as she went on,

  “Charles says all the Clubs in St. James’s are talking about it. Sir Jocelyn is completely discredited and, if he does recover, he will have to go abroad.”

  Torilla clasped her hands together, but she did not speak.

  “If he stays,” Beryl said with satisfaction, “no one will speak to him and he will be ostracized.”

  Torilla felt her legs could no longer support her and she sat down heavily on a chair.

  How could she ever imagine – how could she have guessed that the Marquis would solve their problem in such a manner?

  “You are quite – certain,” she said because she had to know, “that the Marquis is really not – badly wounded?”

  Beryl threw herself down on the sofa.

  “How you do fuss, Torilla!” she said. “Of course Gallen is all right. You must have realised by now that he is indestructible.”

  She leaned back against the satin cushions to add,

  “I wonder what Sir Jocelyn said about me? Charles is certain he must have disparaged me in a most disgraceful manner for Gallen to call him out.”

  She sighed.

  “I suppose I shall never know, for Gallen will certainly not tell me.”

  “Have you seen him?” Torilla asked.

  “Who – Gallen?” Beryl asked. “I imagine he is at his house and it would be most improper for me to call there without a chaperone!”

  She was not speaking seriously, but she added,

  “Not a word of this to Mama! You know how she worries over anything that concerns my reputation and it is not the ‘done thing’ to be duelled over.”

  “I will not say anything,” Torilla murmured.

  At the same time she felt like crying in her relief that the Marquis was not badly hurt.

  Supposing Sir Jocelyn had succeeded in wounding him mortally? Suppose he had died?

  She pushed the thoughts away from her mind.

  The Marquis was all right and she must not show herself to be a coward, but she knew she was one where he was concerned.

  “I think everything has happened to me now,” Beryl said. “Men have threatened before to fight over me, but it has never actually happened. This will certainly be something to relate to my grandchildren, if I ever have any.”

  She was speaking in her frivolous voice, which made Torilla wince.

  She knew that if she was in Beryl’s position at the moment she would have been desperate with anxiety.

  Whether it was conventional or not, she would have been unable to prevent herself from grushng to the Marquis’s side.

  Beryl rose from the sofa.

  “I only hope that this does not mean that Gallen will cry off taking us to the Opera tonight. It is to be a very smart occasion and we are to be in the Prince Regent’s box.”

  “We?” Torilla questioned.

  “But of course – the invitation includes you, dearest. The Prince said some very flattering things about you to Mama and, after the Opera is over, we are all going to supper at Carlton House.”

  Torilla turned her head to look at the letter she had been writing to her father.

  “I – suppose, Beryl,” she said in a low voice, “you really – want me to stay with you for your wedding? I feel I ought to – return to look after Papa.”

  Beryl gave a scream.

  “Are you crazy? Of course you must stay for my wedding! You are my bridesmaid and I want you. You know full well there would be no fun for me if you are not here to laugh about everybody and seeing the amusing side of it all.”

  With an effort Torilla replied,

  “I will stay, if you really want me, dearest. It was – just a thought.”

  “And a very foolish one,” Beryl said. “Now you are back in my life again I have no intention of losing you and if you raise more objections I shall write to your father myself.”

  She smiled as she added,

  “I shall point out to Uncle Augustus that Parsons are supposed to be unselfish and if he takes you away from me it will be very very selfish indeed!”

  This was Beryl’s parting shot as she left the room.

  Torilla put her hands up to her face.

  She was still feeling rather faint from the shock of thinking that the Marquis might have been injured and it brought home to her very forcefully how much she loved him.

  She had lain awake all last night after they left the ball, feeling one moment a strange, unearthly happiness because he had said he loved her and the next cast into the darkness of hell because she knew they could never be together and that Beryl stood between them like a flaming sword.

  She could not believe that what she felt for the Marquis and he for her was wrong or wicked.

  Love could never be that.

  What they wer
e feeling was sacred, but Torilla knew it would soil and defame what was Divine if they hurt Beryl and took their happiness at her expense.

  She had been right when she told the Marquis she would not let him do anything that was dishonourable.

  She knew enough of the world to be aware that, however reprehensibly the Marquis might have behaved where his love affairs were concerned, he had never done anything that broke the unwritten code expected of an honourable gentleman.

  Just as he would never pull his horses on a Racecourse, cheat at cards or, like Sir Jocelyn, fire in a duel before the count of ten, so he could not refuse to marry Beryl, having once asked her to be his wife.

  ‘I love him for what he is and nothing I will ever do must spoil the standing of the man who is admired as a Corinthian and a sportsman,’ she said to herself.

  When she thought of all he had done at Barrowfield because she had asked it of him, she thought that no man could have been more generous or open-minded.

  He had not made excuses for his neglect of the pit in the past, he had condemned his own ignorance and made what retribution he could.

  He had said that her father was satisfied and she knew that in that case the changed conditions at his pit would surpass all the others in South Yorkshire.

  The Marquis did not go to the Opera that night on, Beryl was told, his doctor’s orders, but Torilla fancied that there was perhaps another more personal reason.

  They both had to adjust themselves to what had been said in the privacy of the boudoir at the ball. It was going to be difficult to meet in public without revealing their feelings.

  In the days that followed Torilla only saw the Marquis when a large number of other people were present and he made no attempt to speak to her alone.

  Because they were so closely attuned to each other, she knew, even when she looked at him across a crowded room, that he was suffering.

  He appeared to have grown thinner, the lines of cynicism on his face were sharply etched, but to Torilla they were lines of pain.

  She learnt inadvertently from one of the grooms that the Marquis was riding his horses to the point of exhaustion.

  She herself found it almost impossible to eat the rich meals she had enjoyed when she first came South, and, as the day of the wedding drew nearer, Beryl asked her anxiously,