The Heart of love Read online

  “I hear we are sailing for Greece,” remarked Verena. “I have long wished to visit Athens and all its glories.”

  “So I hear,” replied Arthur, idly polishing a silver tray. “The Captain told me at breakfast this morning.”

  “I do hope I will be able to see the sights,” she continued, dreamily. “The Parthenon, the cemetery at Kerameikos. I have a fancy to see where Lord Elgin found his famous marbles.”

  “Last I heard they were in the British Museum in London, my Lady.”

  Verena smiled at his sarcasm and forgave him. He had proved himself to be a true friend. When she had first set foot on the Seahorse, she would not have believed that she could have found such an ally.

  But for Arthur’s intervention, she may well have been on her way back to England and a desperately unhappy marriage.

  “It’s his Lordship’s favourite peaches for pudding,” said Verena, smiling, “Splendid,” replied Arthur, “make sure there are some left for me. I dream of eating those almond-stuffed peaches.”

  As she began to clear up the dishes, Verena caught sight of herself in the polished surface of a silver tray.

  She picked it up and peered at her distorted reflection. She felt sad that the Marquis had not seen her with her glorious long hair, but last night he had made kind comments about her shorn locks.

  As she had left the Saloon to retire for the night, he had gently touched the top of her head saying, “Don’t worry, it will soon grow back but I think that short hair becomes your loveliness even more.”

  She had blushed deeply and modestly cast her eyes downwards. The touch of his fingertips had sent shocks along her spine. She felt wonderfully alive and it kindled hope in her heart that the Marquis could fall in love with her, as she was with him.

  And now, they were on their way to Greece! Home of her beloved Gods and Goddesses.

  She felt quite sure that the islands and Athens would weave their spell and bring the pair of them close together.

  ‘Who could fail to fall in love in that atmosphere?’ she thought, as she slid the stuffed peaches onto a glass dish.

  Everything she had cooked today was completed with more than her usual care and attention. She wanted to woo the Marquis with her fine cuisine, lovingly prepared. She wanted to show him what a wonderful wife she would make –

  ‘But I am being premature,’ she scolded herself, ‘I must not tempt fate by thinking such thoughts.’

  Even so, she went about her duties for the rest of the day in a complete dream.

  *

  And so Lady Verena soon found that she fell into a routine with the Marquis.

  Each day she would prepare breakfast and then luncheon. Next she would rest or read as the Marquis had allowed her access to his library.

  After dinner, she would wait anxiously to be invited into the Saloon where they would spend the rest of the evening discussing everything from Greek legends to the Marquis’s various archaeological expeditions.

  One evening, he took out a gold torque bracelet and placed it around Verena’s slender wrist – it fitted her perfectly.

  “It is as if it was made for you,” he declared, his amber eyes burning into her hers with a fervent intensity.

  Verena tilted her face upwards, hoping that their lips would meet – but to no avail.

  Even though the Marquis was most solicitous and showered her with compliments, the final confirmation of love was sadly lacking.

  ‘There is plenty of time,’ she told herself one evening as she hurried along the deck to the Saloon, ‘we still have at least three days sailing before we arrive in Athens. As Arthur has said, he is not used to female company.’

  The evening began well. The Marquis had allowed her to choose a disc to be played on the gramophone and as the last few notes sounded, he became strangely thoughtful.

  “There is one thing I do not understand,” he said at last, “and that is why your father married Lady Louisa in the first place. You say that he was in unremitting mourning for quite some years after your mother died, yet this marriage of his seems so sudden and without thought.”

  Verena sighed and straightened her gown.

  “It is true, one day he sent for me and informed me that he was to visit London on business. He said that he was to be gone for almost a month – which was quite unusual – but as he was visiting my aunt, Lady Armstrong, and her husband has been ill for many months, I thought that maybe it was family business that made him linger.”

  “But then he arrived home with a new wife, you say?”

  As the Marquis drew closer, she could feel his breath upon her skin and it sent waves of delight throughout her whole being.

  “Yes, it was most unexpected. We had received hardly any news of him for quite some weeks, apart from a few brief notes, and none that presaged his arrival back at Rosslyn Hall. He appeared one day whilst I was out riding and I was shocked to find that he was not alone.”

  She paused, clearly reliving the emotions of that day.

  “I arrived back at Rosslyn Hall and proceeded straight to the drawing room. I was in a most dishevelled state. Jet, my mount, had taken me through the old quarry and I was covered from head to foot in dust.

  “I was deeply shocked to be told that the strange woman who sat with him, Lady Louisa Middleton-Jones, was my new stepmother. Not that Papa should consult me before marrying of course, but I had thought that he might have at least written and told me.”

  “It sounds to me like this marriage was a business deal. I have come across many such transactions in London society. They say that the age of the arranged marriages is dead, but let me tell you, my dear, there are many bought and sold over the gaming tables of Mayfair!”

  Verena looked at him, quite taken aback. The Marquis was wearing a strange expression.

  “James, I do not think that Papa bargained for my stepmother over a game of cards!” she exclaimed.

  “No, no, I meant no ill by that remark,” the Marquis replied, “I simply refer to the fact that we dutiful sons and daughters are sometimes but pawns in the game of life. But tell me, I wish to know more about this marriage that the Countess attempted to foist upon you. Had you no warning?”

  “None whatsoever. The matter was broached over dinner one evening. At first it was presented to me as a choice. But as the meal wore on, it became quite apparent that the deal had already been brokered.”

  “And the man she selected as your intended?”

  Verena shuddered.

  “The Duke of Dalkenneth. I do not know if you have made his acquaintance, but he comes from Scotland. His first wife died, leaving no issue – a most unfortunate situation for man in his forties. And so he sought to rectify this turn of events by approaching the Countess for my hand in marriage.

  She had met him at one of her London soirées and he had mentioned that he was searching for a suitable wife. The Countess leapt at the opportunity and I was to have no say in the matter.”

  “I have nearly fallen foul of such schemes myself,” murmured the Marquis, darkly.

  He paused and looked into the distance.

  “My father, on his very deathbed, expressed his concern at what he construed as my lack of willingness to wed. But I refused to be traded like a bullock in a market. He died reproaching me for it.”

  Verena’s blood suddenly ran cold. As she searched the Marquis’s handsome face for some sign of warmth, she looked and found none. She was not sure that this conversation was proceeding in quite the way she would have liked.

  “And do you still find it necessary to avoid such a union, James?” she asked, fearful of the reply.

  Her hands were trembling in the long seconds that ticked by without a response from the Marquis. Then suddenly he stood up, his manner at once cold and distant.

  “If you will forgive me, madam, I am quite tired this evening. The meal was excellent as always, but I find myself in need of an early night. I bid you good evening.”

  Verena slowly
arose from her chair, feeling utterly disheartened.

  “Good night, James,” she said stiffly as he left the Saloon.

  Wandering along the deck, she could not help but feel the grip of panic fastening itself around her heart. Why had the Marquis become so cool towards her? It was a valid enough question. He had made enquiries of a far more personal nature over these past few evenings and she had not flinched from any of them.

  ‘I have touched a raw nerve,’ she thought, as she paced the deck.

  She was far from sleepy and this unsettling turn of events had upset her deeply.

  ‘But why did he react so when I mentioned marriage?’ She wandered along the deck for some time, watching the pitching waves and the twinkling stars overhead before retiring.

  But sleep would not come. She tossed in her hard bunk for hours before finally closing her eyes.

  *

  The next few evenings the Marquis failed to request her presence in the Saloon after dinner. By the third evening Verena was beside herself.

  ‘What is this secret that he holds so close to his chest?’ she wondered, as she retired to her cabin each night after the evening meal had been cleared away.

  ‘Why does he find the idea of marriage so repugnant?’ She considered asking Arthur, but a sense of propriety prevented her from doing so. Even though he had become a friend, she could not ask him something so intimate. As Jean, she may have ventured such a question, but as Lady Verena, it was unthinkable.

  The next day dawned and on the horizon the fair City of Athens was visible.

  Before she made breakfast, Verena climbed up on deck and watched as the ship steamed slowly into the harbour.

  In her dreams she had imagined that she and the Marquis would be standing side-by-side for this momentous occasion, but instead she found herself alongside Pete as the Seahorse made its approach.

  The ship eventually dropped anchor in the bay, so with a sigh Verena returned below decks to prepare breakfast.

  Supplies were now running low as they had been at sea nearly a week, so she made kedgeree with some leftover fish and garnished it with a few hard-boiled eggs.

  It was with a heavy heart that she picked at the food that Jack had made for her and the rest of the crew. She could hear the men shouting in the mess next door. They were relieved to be on extended shore leave – the Marquis had told them they were docking for at least two if not three days.

  Verena had been hoping that she would be spending that time alone with the Marquis. He had promised to show her places that the tourists did not visit. Amongst his many accomplishments he also spoke Greek and she had been looking forward to visiting some Athenians in their own environment.

  ‘Alas, that will not happen now,’ she sighed, stacking the dishes in the sink.

  “Erhem,” came a coughing noise behind her.

  She whirled round to see the Marquis standing in the doorway of the galley, his hand just covering his mouth.

  “Ah, Verena, I want you to come on a trip with me,” he said refusing to meet her eyes, “there is something I wish to show you.”

  Her heart leapt, this is what she had longed to hear. Her spirits soared for an instant and then she composed herself.

  This intriguing offer may not be what she imagined.

  “I would like that very much, my Lord,” she replied formally.

  “Good.”

  The Marquis appeared quite awkward, so unlike how he had been with her during their long evenings together.

  “The ferry to the shore will leave in twenty minutes. I suggest you take some kind of head-covering with you – we may be visiting Churches where to go bare-headed would cause offence to the local people.”

  “Naturally,” replied Verena.

  She wanted to skip and dance, but still smarting from the Marquis’s rebuff, she did not allow herself the luxury of indulging her emotions.

  Back in her cabin she changed into her white muslin dress and pulled a thin scarf from her luggage.

  ‘I am in desperate need of some new clothes,’ she said to herself, ‘I must take some money with me in case there are any shops or dressmakers. If we are here for a few days then I could easily get something run up.’

  She counted out some coins and a few pound notes, which she folded tightly into her black silk bag. She was certain that the Marquis would know where she could change her money into drachmas – there would surely be a bank nearby.

  When she emerged on deck, the Marquis was already waiting by the harness.

  “I am afraid we will have to swing you over the side and lower you to the boat,” he said gruffly.

  Two of the crew helped Verena into the harness. She sat nervously on the thin plank that constituted the seat and held her breath.

  “Mind how you go now, my Lady,” shouted one of the men, as he winched the harness up and over the side.

  Verena could not look as the harness descended slowly. She fixed her gaze on the Parthenon while she slowly shuddered downwards.

  “Take care, my Lady!” came the cry from the waiting boat.

  Verena came to her senses as the man steadied the harness and unclipped her.

  Stepping gingerly onto the moving boat, she let out a cry as her foot slipped on the wet wood.

  “Verena, are you all right?” called the Marquis from up on deck.

  “Yes, I am, thank you.”

  A few minutes later, the Marquis was lowered onto the waiting ferry. He stepped neatly out of the harness to join her.

  “Ready to go, my Lord?” enquired the seaman on board.

  The Marquis nodded his assent and the man began to row towards the shore.

  They made the journey in complete silence. Verena was longing to ask him what it was that he so urgently wanted to show her, but she found she could not.

  Stepping ashore onto a little jetty, Verena walked on ahead, anxious to stand on Greek soil.

  The Acropolis rose magnificently in front of her. The sun blazed down as she shielded her eyes to gain a better view.

  “We will make our way to the Parthenon first,” explained the Marquis as they walked towards the hill, “and from there, we will proceed to Kerameikos. There is also a wonderful museum full of artefacts that I wish to see after lunch. I think you will enjoy seeing their fine collection of statues.”

  Verena’s heart ached as the Marquis walked alongside her, so stiff and formal. She could sense that he was not at all relaxed.

  The Parthenon was everything she had imagined and more. The Marquis was incredibly knowledgeable about the site and pointed out where Lord Elgin had chipped off the famous marbles.

  They took a carriage to the cemetery of Kerameikos and she was entranced by the ancient graves.

  “Now for some luncheon,” declared the Marquis, as they picked their way over broken gravestones. “I know a most agreeable taverna back down in the town.”

  Ever the gentleman, he helped Verena up into the waiting carriage. It was open and had no canopy to speak of. The sun was so fierce overhead that it hurt Verena’s eyes.

  It was not an easy ride – the driver seemed to pay no heed to the carts and animals that wandered into the road in front of him, and more than once he waved his arms shouting in Greek at the poor unfortunate who got in his way.

  By the time they reached their destination, Verena was feeling quite faint. She was unaccustomed to such heat – even though she had visited the South of France in summer, but that was nothing compared to here in Athens.

  “I am afraid we will have to walk for a while,” said the Marquis, “the taverna is concealed up a back street and although it is not that far from here, it is inaccessible for the horses.”

  Verena stepped down from the carriage feeling most unwell. As she waited in the soaring heat for the Marquis to finish his parley with the driver, she was suddenly overcome with dizziness.

  Before she knew it, she had collapsed in a heap on the cobbles outside a jewellery shop.

  “Verena,”
cried the Marquis, as she sank to the floor.

  In a stream of Greek, he entreated the driver to help him move her into the cool of the shop.

  An old man with white hair and a bushy moustache was sitting outside on a wooden chair. He immediately stood up and gestured to the Marquis to place Verena on it.

  “Please, some water,” he called in Greek.

  The old man shuffled inside the shop. Very soon a crowd was gathering to witness the event.

  After some minutes an old lady dressed entirely in black peasant clothes came out of the shop carrying a tray with a jug of water and a glass.

  “Drink, drink,” she exhorted in broken English.

  As the old woman wetted Verena’s parched lips, she gradually came to.

  During the commotion, Verena had let go of her black silk bag and it lay at her feet.

  In a flash, an unseen hand snatched the bag from the floor and a shout went up from the crowd.

  “Thief, thief!”

  “Please, look after the lady – I will return,” ordered the Marquis, “Do not chase them,” the old man said in Greek, waving his arms, “they are dangerous men, they will kill you!”

  Without a second’s hesitation, the Marquis sped through the crowd after the thief.

  “What happened?” mumbled Verena, coming to at last. “Where am I?”

  The old Greek lady patted her hand and gesticulated at the Marquis’s rapidly disappearing broad back.

  In her daze, Verena could not understand what the lady was saying to her.

  “I am sorry, I do not understand. Oh, where is the Marquis? James, James. Where are you?”

  “We wait, you see,” said the old man. His command of English was tenuous but there was no doubting the kindness of his heart.

  In rapid Greek, he spoke to the old lady, his wife, who tottered into the shop.

  Five minutes later, she reappeared with a plate of pastries and sweetmeats. She gestured to Verena to eat. Absent-mindedly choosing a sticky confection full of nuts, Verena put it in her mouth and chewed without really tasting what she was eating.