To Heaven With Love Page 12

  “It is just a small cut. I must go to my cabin and lie down.”

  The Earl lowered her carefully to her feet and held onto her arm as Dorianna fought to keep her shaking legs straight.

  There was a sharp gust of cold air as the door to the library was pushed open.

  It was the chef, carrying a fresh tray of tea.

  His eyes bulged in his kind fat face as he saw the blood trickling down Dorianna’s cheek.

  “The lady has had an unlucky fall,” said the Earl. “This is not the weather for her to be out on deck. Please, chef, will you escort her to her cabin and make sure that she has ice, iodine and bandages – and whatever else she may need.”

  The chef put down the tray and held out his hand.

  “My poor dear,” he lisped. “I’ll take care of you, never fear!”

  Dorianna clasped his plump hand.

  She leaned on his arm and was about to move to the door when the Earl reached out to her.

  His fingertips brushed aside the hair on her temple, stroking the sensitive fine skin there and a thrill of warmth and aliveness flooded through her whole body.

  “I think it is not such a deep cut, but you must be careful. You must rest for a good long time.”

  “Thank you!”

  “And as soon as you are well and the weather has improved, you must dine with me.”

  “No, no!” she cried, shaking her head and wincing with pain. “I shall leave your boat as soon as I can. Once we have crossed the Channel, I must go!”

  “Whatever you wish,” the Earl responded.

  Dorianna could not read the expression in his dark eyes as he continued,

  “But now you need to rest. The chef will bring you anything you need, and he will also bring back news to me of how you are. I have indeed behaved unforgivably.”

  He turned away, looking out over the white-capped peaks of the waves.

  *

  Dorianna had never felt so glad to lie down.

  The bunk in her cabin was warm and welcoming.

  She lay back on her pillow and taking the bowl of ice, the bottle of iodine and the towels the chef had brought to her, she tidied up her cut as best as she could.

  The wound was not that deep and the bleeding had stopped, but her head ached badly and her whole body felt cold and drained of energy.

  All was dark out of the porthole, but she could still hear the crash of the waves and the creaking of timbers as the Athene pressed forward through the storm.

  Laying a towel under her cheek, Dorianna stretched out on the bunk and let herself fall into the sweet escape of sleep.

  All at once she found herself back in the woodland garden at Ashburton Hall.

  It was dark and she was walking along the path that led down to the stream.

  Above her head a strong gale was blowing and the trees creaked and groaned, tossing and twisting as if their trunks would snap. She quickened her pace, fearful in case one of them might fall.

  Soon she realised that she was lost.

  ‘I must have taken the wrong path as I should have come to the statues of Pan and Aphrodite a long time ago.’

  All around her the trees swayed and behind her she heard the crack of a branch breaking off.

  ‘I must find the clearing and I must get out of these woods!’ she cried to herself as she ran on, fighting her way through tangled leaves and twigs.

  She had always felt at home, peaceful and happy in the woodland garden, but now she began to feel anxious.

  Something had changed and she no longer felt safe and welcome.

  Up ahead the trees were thinning out and then she found herself in the open glade she remembered so well.

  It was gloomy and dark, as there was no full moon, just a faint glimmer of light coming from the sky above the trees.

  She peered around, hunting for the white shape of Aphrodite, but the square stone pedestal was empty.

  “Where are you, Aphrodite?” she cried out and felt a surge of horror as she realised that something terrible must have happened at Ashburton Hall.

  Could it in any way be that her old home had been sold and someone had come and taken the statues away?

  Did she no longer have the right to be there?

  Could she never go back?

  And where was her Mama?

  What was happening to her?

  She awoke with a cold sweat of fear drenching her whole body and sat up in her bunk.

  Her head was throbbing and outside the wind still screamed and the waves crashed against the porthole.

  ‘The Hall cannot have been sold,’ she murmured to herself, struggling to clear her confused mind. ‘I only left England this morning. It’s just a bad dream.’

  Filled with unease she thought again of her Mama, wondering if she was still at Rouston Hall.

  ‘Dearest Mama, I do hope all is well with you,’ she prayed. ‘I only hope that I am not feeling so bad because something has happened to you! I should never have left you. As soon as I am able, I will go ashore and try to send a message to you!’

  It was the longest night Dorianna had ever known.

  She sat on her bunk, shivering, her head throbbing and watching the foamy water slide over the glass of the porthole for what seemed like a lifetime.

  At last the sky began to lighten and she then heard a tapping at the door of her cabin.

  It was the chef, bringing a breakfast tray for her.

  “I must leave,” Dorianna said to him. “I need to go ashore at once – ”

  The chef looked horrified.

  “No, no, my dear!” he answered, putting down the tray. “We cannot make port with this gale blowing.”

  “But I have to! Surely we must be near the French coast by now!”

  He shook his head.

  “Wait, my dear, just a little. Be patient and we will help you when we can.”

  He poured some tea and passed it to her, careful not to spill any as the cabin was still rocking and heaving.

  Of course he was right. She must try to be patient, although she was longing to be on dry land and desperate to find someone who would know what was happening to her Mama back in England.

  She sipped the warm tea and felt a little better.

  She nibbled at the corner of a piece of toast, which was delicious and it reminded her she had not eaten since leaving Mr. Jackson’s yard, almost twenty-four hours ago.

  “Please, tell his Lordship that I must leave as soon as possible!”

  The chef nodded and smiled, patting her hand.

  “I will tell him,” he agreed, and, putting the plate of toast close by her on the bunk, he left the cabin.

  ‘All will be well, all must be well,’ she whispered to herself. ‘For it is true that we cannot land anywhere in this terrible storm, so I must wait until it is safe.’

  She lay back down on her bunk.

  The horrible memory of her dream had faded and once again she slept, this time peacefully and deeply.

  *

  Sunlight was streaming through the porthole when she awoke many hours later.

  Her head no longer ached and she felt hungry.

  She reached for the toast, but it had disappeared, and in its place was a white envelope with her name written on it.

  ‘How did I not wake when this letter came? I must have been asleep for a very long time.’

  She opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

  The gilded coat of arms of the Earl of Claremont was embossed at the top of the thick paper and as she saw it, Dorianna felt her face grow warm.

  She forced herself to read the words he had written.

  “My dear ‘Dorothy’,

  I can only apologise to you for such inconsiderate behaviour. Whatever the circumstances may be that have brought you on board the Athene, I had no right to treat you with anything other than due courtesy and respect and I struggle to find words to express the remorse I feel.

  It is my fervent prayer that you are now rest
ed and recovered from this terrible storm and that your injury is healing – as indeed chef leads me to believe.

  Now that we are blessed with fine weather again, I beg you to allow me the honour of dining with me, so that I may make some reparation for the harm I have caused you.

  Yours most respectfully,

  Claremont.”

  Dorianna folded up the letter, trying to control her shaking hands.

  The words that the Earl had written to her could not be more different from all he had said in the library.

  There he had seemed so angry and so cold.

  ‘I should at least meet with him again,’ she said to herself, ‘and explain to him that I must go ashore as soon as possible.’

  Her heart sank at the idea of being left in a foreign country where she knew no one.

  But that was her plan and she could not change it.

  ‘At least I may find some news of Mama, if there are English people to be found and I can get a message to her,’ she reflected and felt a little better.

  There was no clock in the cabin and though the sun appeared high in the sky, she had no idea what the time was.

  ‘I had better tidy myself up,’ she decided, catching a glimpse of her pale face in the mirror.

  Her hair looked limp and tousled and there was a bruise and a patch of dried blood at her temple.

  She filled a jug of water and washed, combing the tangles out of her hair.

  Then she searched in her carpetbag and found the pink dress that her Papa had given to her and put it on.

  The dress still fitted her perfectly and she loved its soft pink colour and the delicate, embroidered vine leaves that trailed over the skirt.

  There was a tap at the door and Dorianna opened it to find Mrs. Farley standing there, looking imposing.

  The housekeeper raised her eyebrows.

  “I expected to find you still an invalid! I have heard all sorts of reports of your injuries.”

  “I am quite recovered, thank you, and I hope that you too are feeling well again.”

  Mrs. Farley sighed and shrugged.

  “Of course. As soon as the rough weather subsides, I am always able to return to my duties. I had hoped you would be able to stand in for me, but it appears that you are here under false pretences.”

  Dorianna blushed.

  “I am very sorry, Mrs. Farley. I did not realise that this was Lord Claremont’s yacht and that I would be recognised. I shall be leaving as soon as I can.”

  Mrs. Farley sniffed.

  “Indeed! And in the meantime, his Lordship now requests you dine with him. I am here to inform you that he is taking a turn about the deck before dinner – if you would care to join him.”

  Dorianna felt her face grow even warmer.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Farley, I will do so.”

  The housekeeper left and Dorianna made her way up the narrow metal stairway and out into the open air.

  The wind caught at her hair and her skirts and she blinked in the bright sunshine.

  Across the glinting tossing waves, she could see a dark outline of land.

  ‘Could that be France?’ she asked herself, trying to make out any landmarks.

  “It is Portugal,” she heard the Earl remark over her shoulder and suddenly he was beside her.

  “We have left the Channel behind and the stormy Bay of Biscay and we are heading for the Mediterranean.”

  “Portugal? How could we have come so far?”

  Dorianna felt a tide of anxiety rising inside her, for she knew nothing of the country or the language, and did not know how she would cope if she was put ashore there.

  “You have slept for a very long time,” said the Earl.

  He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips for a second.

  “I hope that you are feeling quite recovered.”

  Dorianna could not meet his eyes, but she nodded.

  For a moment he stood silently at her side, as they gazed across at the coast of Portugal.

  She felt her anxiety fading.

  She now felt safe and comfortable, just as she had done when they had stood together in the window at Lady Carysfort’s.

  On the distant coastline she could see silhouettes of trees and a glimpse of golden beaches.

  “It looks like a beautiful place,” she sighed.

  “Indeed it is, but that is not where we are going.”

  The Earl turned to Dorianna.

  “Let’s go to the dining salon, for we have much to talk about.”

  The salon was much smaller than any dining room Dorianna had ever seen, but it was exquisitely laid out and the table gleamed with polished silver, gilt-edged china and pristine white linen.

  She caught her breath as she saw the centrepiece of the table, a huge silver shell filled to the brim with cherries, apricots and grapes.

  “What a lovely piece!” she cried.

  The Earl drew out a chair for her.

  “You like it? It has been in my family for more than a hundred years, yet I feel it has found its rightful home at last, here on the yacht.”

  “I can almost imagine it lying at the bottom of the sea,” she murmured, looking at the ornate silver curves of the shell and imagining it surrounded with tiny fishes and swirling seaweed.”

  “A fitting tribute maybe for foam-born Aphrodite!” commented the Earl with a laugh.

  “Aphrodite?” asked Dorianna, puzzled to hear the familiar name on his lips.

  “Yes indeed, the Goddess of Love, who rose out of the sea,” the Earl’s eyes shone with an inward vision. “I had thought to call this yacht after her, but I was afraid that certain people might make a joke of it – and so I named her for the Goddess of Wisdom.”

  The Earl’s eyes turned to Dorianna and he smiled.

  “Forgive me. I am being too erudite. Let me offer you some champagne.”

  He lifted the bottle from its silver ice bucket to fill a glass and she watched the cloud of tiny bubbles rising into a mass of foam.

  “And now,” he proposed, “a toast to the old Gods and Goddesses and to the Fates, who all brought our paths together again in such an unexpected fashion.”

  He filled another glass and raised it to Dorianna.

  “Thank you, my Lord.”

  She raised her glass too.

  But she could not drink from it until she had spoken to him.

  “I did not realise that this was your yacht and – I am very sorry for any inconvenience – I have caused you,” she stammered, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “I must leave – and make my own way as soon as is possible – ”

  The Earl frowned, swirling the champagne around in his glass.

  “I know nothing of how you came to be here. Mrs. Farley tells me she took you on board to assist her and she did not seem to recognise that you are really a woman of quality – a lady. Why have you been deceiving her?”

  A storm surged in Dorianna’s mind.

  What should she say to him?

  Could she trust him?

  And what would he think if he knew the truth?

  “Dorianna – ” the Earl was saying.

  She started at hearing him say her name.

  “You remember – ”

  “Of course! How could I forget? Even though the first time I heard your name it was that fool Lord Buxton – but – I’m sorry, I don’t wish to distress you again.”

  The Earl fell silent, watching the bubbles slowly rising in his glass.

  “I have left all that behind me now,” said Dorianna, after a moment. “I did not marry him, I could not. I must now make my own way in the world until the whole thing is forgotten.”

  When she dared to look up at the Earl, his face was pale and serious and he had picked up his glass and was now twisting the stem in his fingers.

  “You have put yourself in a very difficult position,” he remarked after a pause. “I do not ask to know exactly what happened, but, of course, I will do everything in my power to help you. I d
on’t like to think of you all alone on the Continent, but if that is what you wish – ”

  “Yes, it is, my Lord! I have a little money and I am quite sure that I will find work, perhaps as a Governess or a Companion.”

  The Earl frowned once more.

  “It will not be easy, determined as you are. But let me at least suggest that you stay with us until we come to Gibraltar. It is a British territory and it will be easier there for you to find whatever you need.”

  Dorianna felt a great surge of relief as she heard his words.

  Surely he was correct and in Gibraltar, there would be many respectable British families who would be able to help her and offer her work.

  ‘All will yet be well!’ she mused optimistically and raising her glass, she took a sip of the champagne.

  The bubbles flooded through her body in a wave of joy and for just a moment she forgot everything except the beauty and delight of the moment.

  The light of the sunset flooding in through the salon windows, catching the silver and glassware on the table, and, opposite her, the Earl’s dark eyes gazing into hers.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next day Dorianna found a chair in a sheltered spot on the deck and sat down looking out at the sunlit waves.

  Her mind was full of everything she and the Earl had talked about at dinner the evening before.

  “What do you think of the Athene?” he had asked her as he sipped his champagne.

  “She is beautiful! I did not know that a yacht could be powered by steam, but she is so elegant, not a bit like the steam engines on the railway.”

  The Earl smiled, a proud look in his eyes.

  “Yes, indeed, I took great care that every part of her design should be the most up-to-date. The Athene is surely the fastest of her kind.”

  He paused, watching Dorianna and then asked,

  “But what is the matter? Something has upset you.”

  Dorianna pressed her napkin to her eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were slowly filling them.

  “I’m so sorry. It’s just – ”

  The Earl poured a little more champagne into her glass.

  “Please, don’t be distressed. Tell me exactly what is troubling you.”

  “It is really nothing. When you said that the Athene was the fastest of her kind, I remembered that when I first saw her, I thought that she looked like a racehorse.”