A Hazard of Hearts Read online

  Serena, after her walk in the gardens, which she had reached through the old Marquis’s private entrance, had returned by her usual route to her own apartments.

  She had hurried along the panelled passage feeling an uncontrollable shudder of horror and disgust shake her as she reached the foot of the staircase and knew that, if she sought in the panelling, she would find the spring which opened the secret door.

  For one wild moment she had been half-inclined to press the spring and pass through, to go down the long steep steps and find out if the cave was empty and if, as the Marchioness had commanded, the man she had murdered had been taken away.

  What had they done with him? Serena questioned and she knew the answer even while her nerves shivered at the thought.

  The impulse to such madness was little more than a passing thought and Serena had hurried up the stairs to the safety of her own bedchamber.

  She had sent Eudora with a message to the Marchioness to say that she was indisposed and to beg that she might be excused from appearing at dinner.

  It was indeed the truth. She was in fact suffering from shock and when Eudora had undressed her, she slipped between the cool linen sheets to lie shivering and trembling until Eudora brought hot bricks for her feet and warm milk for her to drink.

  But youth is elastic and, despite a second night when she had lain in sleeplessness, Serena found that the morning brought her renewed health and a desire to escape from the company of her own sombre thoughts.

  She had been glad enough when Isabel had sent word to say they were going riding and hoped that she would accompany them. The dark fears and the horrors of the night seemed to pass away or at least they appeared less formidable in the summer sunshine.

  Last night Serena had believed that the only course open for her was to flee from Mandrake, to run away and find somewhere else to dwell, however humble and however unattractive.

  This morning her better judgement made her realise that running away would solve nothing. She was still under an obligation to pay her debt to Justin if he required it of her. She was still as completely in his debt as she had been when she had left Staverley. His mother’s behaviour, however horrible and however lawless, was not her concern.

  She was Justin’s prisoner, imprisoned by a debt of honour that could only be cancelled by him and ,until he gave the word, to leave Mandrake would be merely the action of a coward and one who desired to evade a just claim.

  She would not allow the Marchioness to bleed her of her courage. That at least was her one armour against the future and against anything that might befall her now. Serena threw up her head, forgetting for the moment that she was not alone, until Isabel’s voice, amused and teasing, asked,

  “Who has vexed you, Serena? I declare you look quite fierce.”

  Serena laughed a little shamefacedly.

  “I am not really vexed,” she answered. “I was but thinking.”

  “Thinking!” Isabel exclaimed. “Then it is of someone who has made you sore. But, of course, it is that odious creature, Harry Wrotham.”

  “I am not surprised that Serena dislikes the fellow,” Nicholas said. “He is an outsider if ever there was one.”

  “He is repulsive enough, I will grant you that,” Isabel said, “but it’s no use Serena making such a dust about him. It is obvious that he will stay here a long time for the Marchioness makes much of him.”

  “I cannot think why, for he wins vast sums from her,” Lord Gillingham remarked.

  “That is so,” Nicholas agreed. “He took several hundred guineas from her last night, for I saw him making a note of them.”

  “Maybe, but she is going to get some of it back,” Isabel answered.

  “What do you mean?” her brother asked.

  “I don’t know exactly what it is about,” Isabel replied, “but last night, no, the night before, I saw that Serena was retiring and I hurried across the room to bid her ‘goodnight’. But she was too quick for me and, as I reached the Marchioness’s table, where she had been standing, she disappeared through the door and I realised that it was no use trying to follow her.

  “I hesitated, intending to return to my own game, when I heard the Marchioness say, ‘Fifteen thousand, Harry. It’s worth it to you, you know it is,’ and he answered in that horrid oily voice of his, ‘Ten thousand guineas is all I am prepared to give you, Harriet, and that, of course, when the goods are delivered, not before.’ He said ‘the goods’ with a strange accent on the words and with that I realised that I was eavesdropping on a private conversation. I turned away, but not before I had heard the Marchioness say, ‘You are cursed mean, Harry, you want this – ”

  Isabel stopped speaking and after a moment her brother prompted.

  “This what?”

  “That is all I heard,” she replied.

  “Dammit, Isabel, having listened to so much and whetted our curiosity, you might have paused a second longer.”

  “Just what I thought myself later,” Isabel said, “but what do you make of it? What do you think, Serena?”

  Serena turned her face away.

  “I don’t know – I have no idea,” she said quickly, stammering a little. “Oh, it’s too lovely a day to talk of such creatures as Harry Wrotham. Let’s race. Look, there is a small Temple over there. Are you game?”

  They all accepted her challenge and she was thankful for the moment that she had diverted their attention to another subject. It was only too obvious to her what the Marchioness’s conversation had meant. How foolish she was, Serena thought, to speak openly of things that involved danger not only for herself, but for so many others!

  Were it to be discovered that there were smugglers at Mandrake, Serena knew that not only would the Marchioness suffer the utmost penalty, but her son and everyone else were likely to be involved. It would mean a huge and ghastly scandal and who knew what other secrets would be brought to light or what other revelations would follow?

  Even the existence of the old Marquis might be discovered.

  Serena shuddered when she thought what the world would say of a son who took his father’s name before he was dead and how Justin’s pride would be humbled to the very dust. He knew now, his father had made that quite clear, but who would believe that he had not known of the arrangement until it was too late for him to protest?

  He had been loyal to his mother even while Serena guessed that it must have been terrible for him to be part of such a deception. However much she disliked Justin, she was fair enough to admit that it would be against the whole basis of his character to lie and dissemble or to practise daily and hourly a deception such as this.

  No, it must have hurt him bitterly and perhaps, Serena thought, that accounted for his air of cynicism and for his detachment and his indifference to everything which in the ordinary way would gladden the heart of a young man. She could almost find it possible to pity him – and yet, was it possible to believe that he played no part in the lawlessness that took place beneath the pomp and ceremony of Mandrake?

  What about the smugglers? He had known where his mother was when the Excisemen called. Was he too benefiting from the illicit cargoes brought from France? Somehow Serena could not believe it. Perhaps like his father’s pretended death the smugglers had been something else he had learnt about when it was too late to do anything about them.

  ‘Oh, I wish I knew. I wish I understood,’ Serena thought, as she rode swiftly towards the little Temple and reached it a length in front of Nicholas.

  “I have won!” she cried excitedly, triumphant that she had beaten the other three.

  “Well done, Serena!” Lord Gillingham cried, as he came in third and then another voice also congratulated her.

  “You rode well.”

  Flushed and excited, she looked round to see that the Marquis was sitting on his horse in the shadow of the trees. He rode forward to be beside her.

  She looked up at him, smiling and a little breathless.

  “’Tis your h
orse that should be congratulated, my Lord.”

  She bent forward as she spoke to pat the neck of her mare. Lord Vulcan watched her as Isabel came trotting up. She had been left a long way behind and had made no effort to hurry.

  “La, you are too fast for me,” she said as soon as she was within earshot. “I tried to keep up with you, but I began to lose my hat and, as it is not even paid for, I decided to follow you in a more leisurely and certainly a more genteel manner.”

  Her brother and Nicholas both burst out laughing at such a demure statement from the reckless Isabel, but ignoring them, she rode across to Justin and putting out her hand laid it on his arm.

  “Stop admiring that haughty creature, Serena,” she said, “and tell me if I am not in looks this morning.”

  Justin’s eyes twinkled. The command in her voice was not without a note of jealousy. It would have been difficult not to admire Isabel in her scarlet habit with green silk facings. She was very lovely and very alluring.

  He answered her promptly,

  “You need no words of mine to tell you, Isabel, that you will always be the toast of the town.”

  For a moment she looked pleased and then she made a little grimace.

  “But not of Mandrake! Thank you, Justin, for a very one-sided compliment. I appreciate your subtlety.”

  For a moment there was a cloud over the youthful light-heartedness of the party. It was difficult to define what had happened, but somehow the morning seemed darker, the sunshine less brilliant and Serena felt suddenly weary.

  “Let’s go back,” she said and without waiting for a reply she started to canter towards the house. She reached it ahead of the others and, giving her horse to a groom, went indoors and up the stairs to her own bedchamber.

  “Have you enjoyed yourself?” Eudora asked. “It has certainly brought the colour to your cheeks.”

  “Yes, I have enjoyed myself,” Serena said and knew that it would be both ungracious and untrue to say different. She had indeed enjoyed herself.

  “Will you be dining downstairs tonight?” Eudora asked.

  Serena nodded.

  “I cannot keep indefinitely to my room,” she said, “and I have no excuse as I have been out riding this morning.”

  “What will you wear?” Eudora asked.

  “I care not,” Serena replied, “choose for me.”

  She suddenly stretched her arms above her head.

  “I am sleepy. It must be the fresh air.”

  “Lie down a little while,” Eudora suggested. “If you sleep past the luncheon hour, I will bring you something to eat when you wake.”

  “I shall not sleep for long,” Serena said, but as soon as her head touched the pillow, she fell into a dreamless slumber.

  She slept on and on and Eudora, creeping into the room at intervals to see that she had not tossed the bedclothes aside, did not waken her.

  It was evening when she finally opened her eyes and even then she lay in drowsy contentment for some time, wondering why she felt both well and at peace within herself.

  Then at last she realised that the curtains were drawn.

  “Eudora,” she called and instantly Eudora was at her side. “What hour is it?”

  “After six o’clock.”

  Serena sat up in bed.

  “You are funning, Eudora.”

  “By no means! See the clock on the mantelshelf.”

  “Have I slept for so long?”

  “It has done you good.”

  “That is true enough,” Serena answered. “I feel a different person, ready to face anything and everybody.”

  She slipped out of bed and, pulling a shawl round her, went to the window.

  The sun was sinking in a blaze of crimson and gold, the moon was rising up the sable sky. The sea was very calm and there were no waves to break the deep sapphire blue of the water.

  “How lovely it is!” Serena said, more to herself than to Eudora and, turning her head with a little smile, she added, “I am ashamed to admit it, but I am hungry.”

  “I will fetch you somethin’ tasty to eat,” Eudora suggested. “But not too much. I don’t want to spoil your dinner.”

  Serena laughed. It was a remark such as Eudora had often made to her when she was a child.

  “I could eat an ox,” she said, “so don’t worry about my dinner. I shall doubtless be able to eat a second one then.”

  “In which case you will not be able to fit into the dress I have chosen for you,” Eudora said tartly.

  Serena laughed again because Eudora always had the last word. She sat at the window seat clad only in her nightgown and shawl while she waited for Eudora to return.

  She was not cold, and she thought what a wonderful night it would be to go to sea. Even as the thought came to her, she remembered the smugglers. Would they be crossing tonight? She knew little of their business and did not know how long they rested in between trips or whether everything depended on the smoothness of the sea or the fineness of the weather.

  She looked at the moon doubtfully. It was not yet full, but it would give enough light to constitute danger to those who wished their presence on the water to be a secret. She imagined a sea mist or a fog would be best to escape the observation of the Excisemen.

  ‘I will not think about them,’ she told herself fiercely. ‘I have to forget them. If I go on remembering, it will drive me mad.’

  Eudora came back with a tray containing cold chicken and slices of ham, a cake made of layers of pastry and cream and a small basket filled with crimson strawberries.

  “They are the first of the season,” Eudora said. “His Lordship’s valet was good-natured enough to obtain them for me from one of the gardeners. Even her Ladyship has not tasted them yet.”

  “How exceeding clever of you, Eudora,” Serena exclaimed. “You know how fond I am of strawberries and, as they are the first of this year, I must wish.”

  As she said the words she thought of Madame Roxana’s words, ‘One day you will know your heart’s desire and you will gain it’. In the meantime what should she wish for?

  She picked up a strawberry.

  “This reminds me of Staverley,” she said. “Do you remember, Eudora, how I used to steal into the strawberry beds and how angry old Meakam used to be? Nothing will ever taste as good as those strawberries tasted, warm in the sunshine and sweet because I had picked them for myself.”

  Memories of her childhood came flooding back to Serena and she sat for a moment without moving.

  “Take a little somethin’ to eat,” Eudora coaxed her. “It does no good to fret continually for the past.”

  “That is true enough,” Serena responded with a sigh.

  She gazed at the strawberry.

  “What shall I wish for?” she asked.

  Unbidden a wish formulated itself in her mind – ‘to love and to be loved’.

  For a moment it repeated itself over and over again and almost as if she defied the Fates, Serena ate the strawberry she held in her fingers.

  The plate of chicken and ham was soon finished and Eudora took it away well satisfied. Serena ate the cake and turned again to the strawberries. Then she had an idea.

  She took the little basket off the tray and placed it on the window seat.

  “I have finished with the tray, Eudora.”

  “What about the strawberries?” Eudora enquired.

  “I have set them on one side,” Serena replied. “I desire to carry them to a friend.”

  “A friend?” Eudora enquired.

  “A rather special friend,” Serena said in a mysterious voice, “and I wish to begin to dress now so that I shall be ready early.”

  Eudora sniffed slightly suspiciously, but she asked no more questions, busying herself with bringing hot water for Serena to wash in and putting out the diaphanous garments that she would wear beneath her ball gown.

  Eudora’s choice for the evening was a robe of white satin trimmed at the low-cut neck with frills of lace, which al
so formed the tiny transparent puff sleeves. It was worn with a scarf of diaphanous blue gauze. The colour brought out the golden lights in her hair and the soft pink of her cheeks. Her shoes were blue and there were tiny bows of gauzy ribbon to hold her curls in place.

  When she was ready, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, while Eudora gave a little cry of pleasure.

  “You look beautiful, my little love,” she said, “I only wish that those who knew you when you were a child could see you now.”

  Serena smiled tenderly, but she asked,

  “Do you think my gown would impress them? Most of them loved me for myself, not for how I was dressed. As for my father – ”

  She paused for a moment.

  “Let’s be honest between ourselves, Eudora. He was never particularly interested in me.”

  “He cared for no one after her Ladyship died,” Eudora said slowly.

  “Not even for his only child,” Serena said. “I tried to love him, Eudora, and sometimes I feel ashamed that I do not mourn him more, but I meant so little in his life and he in mine. If we had cared for each other, he would never have made that last cruel wager.”

  Her voice broke for a moment and then resolutely she smiled.

  “But why are we being so morbid? Don’t let us dwell on such things. We were saying, were we not, that this dress is vastly becoming.”

  On an impulse she bent down and kissed Eudora on the cheek.

  “You are the one person I have always loved, Eudora,” she said and then before she received a reply she moved across the room and picked up the basket of strawberries.

  “Now,” she said gaily, “I am ready to visit my friend.”

  Her hand was on the door of the room that led into the turret before Eudora exclaimed,

  “Are you goin’ down that way again?”

  Serena nodded.

  “Do not admit anyone into my bedchamber while I am gone. This stairway is a secret, Eudora, between you and me.”

  Eudora’s reply was to bolt the outer door of the bedchamber and Serena, entering the turret room, lifted the latch of the door that led down to the old Marquis’s library.