The Marquis Who Hated Women (Bantam Series No. 62) Read online

  “Ask Hignet for anything you want,” the Marquis said.

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  When he was alone, the Marquis stood looking down into the fire and his thoughts returned immediately to his own problem.

  He was quite certain that the only sensible thing to do was, as he had decided, to leave the country. At the same time, it annoyed him that he should have to sacrifice his pride and run away.

  Yet the alternative was even more humiliating, since he was quite certain that Shangarry would extort every possible penny from him while at the same time being quite prepared to blackguard him to his friends.

  This, he told himself, would teach him to be more careful with whom he associated in the future. If he needed a woman he would be far better to keep to Cyprians.

  He had always disliked associating with Cocottes; for the fact that their favours were dispensed entirely for money had always seemed to him to be definitely unpleasant.

  Now he asked himself if there was really any difference between women who frankly charged for their services and society women who expected jewels, or any other object that took their fancy, in return for their so-called love.

  The whole thing, the Marquis thought, disgusted him, and almost like Shikara he found himself delighted at the idea of leaving London, of being free of the social octopus which seemed to be clutching at him with a thousand different tentacles.

  He thought with pleasure of his new yacht which was waiting for him at Southampton. It was indeed a blessing that it had been delivered a month ago.

  He had been looking forward to trying it out, and although he had not envisaged anything so unpredictable as the seas in January, there was every likelihood that the Bay of Biscay might be no worse than in March or in April.

  “No-one can be sure of the weather at any time of the year,” the Marquis told himself.

  He remembered with satisfaction that however rough the seas might be, neither he nor Hignet would be sick.

  They had travelled together to many different parts of the world and the Marquis knew that however many snags they might encounter during the journey, Hignet would always remain the same, unflappable, resourceful, and always prepared to make the best of any situation.

  Quite suddenly he found himself feeling like a school-boy leaving for the holidays.

  ‘I will go to one of the Arab countries,” he decided. “There it is a man’s world, where they have the sense to keep their women shut up in purdah and covered up to the eyes so that they are no temptation to anyone else.”

  He laughed, knowing at the same time that it would take him a long time to get over the situation in which he had just found himself, very nearly outmanoeuvred by a woman.

  He was still thinking of Inez Shangarry when the door opened and Shikara returned.

  She had taken off her jacket and now she wore a shawl round her shoulders.

  It covered a muslin blouse inset with lace and made her look very young and even more slender and fragile than before.

  Instinctively the words came to the Marquis’s lips to remonstrate with her that she should let him take her back to her Guardian and not embark on such a crazy escapade.

  Then he told himself to keep his mouth shut and not concern himself with someone who could not by any flight of imagination have any claim on his attention. He had met Shikara by sheer chance and that was all there was to it!

  She had been followed into the room by two footmen carrying a table, which they set down near the fire.

  “The Chef asks your indulgence, M’Lord,” one of them said to the Marquis. “But, thinking Your Lordship might be in a hurry, he has prepared simple dishes which took him the minimum amount of time. He hopes Your Lordship will not be disappointed.”

  ‘I dare say we shall manage,” the Marquis conceded.

  The second footman opened a bottle of wine and the Marquis tasted it and nodded his head.

  “I hope you will drink a little claret, Miss Bartlett,” he said to Shikara. “It will take away the cold and give you strength for your journey.”

  ‘As a matter of fact, I am very hungry,” Shikara replied. “I had a row with Uncle Hardwin before dinner and refused to dine with him, and naturally he would not pander to me by sending anything up to my room.”

  “Make up for it now,” the Marquis suggested, noting with satisfaction that despite the Chefs apologies there seemed to be quite a number of silver dishes being placed on a side-table.

  There was in fact so much to eat that long before the last course had been presented Shikara protested she could eat no more.

  “Hignet will see that you have a hamper in your carriage to Southampton,” the Marquis said, “and as we arrive so early you will doubtless find a ship sailing sometime during the day. I am afraid Bradshaw does not give us a sailing list.”

  “I wall find one,” Shikara said confidently, “and once I am at sea, I shall really feel free of Uncle Hardwin.”

  “Are you frightened of him?” the Marquis asked. "You do not seem to be the sort of person who would be frightened of anything or anybody.”

  “As a matter of fact, he does frighten me,” Shikara said in a small voice. “He is so very big, and when he says that he will beat me if I do not marry Lord Stroud I know he means it.”

  “Surely your father would not approve of that?”

  “No, of course not! Papa is the kindest person that one could ever imagine.”

  She smiled and it was rather wistful. “Unfortunately, he keeps forgetting my existence when he gets excited about some woman he has dug up in a tomb, who lived three thousand years ago, or a carved animal that has lost a leg and its head as well!”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “That must be somewhat frustrating, but unfortunately it is the penalty a daughter must pay when she has a famous father.”

  ‘I only wish I knew what has happened to him,” Shikara said. “I wrote to Monsieur Mariette, but I feel he could not have received my letter, and Uncle Hardwin says he is quite certain that Papa is dead!”

  “Why should he be sure of that?”

  “Because Papa always wrote to me at least once a month ... he never missed ... just the same as he wrote to Mama every week when he left her to go exploring.”

  “I understand your mother is dead.”

  “Yes, she died three years ago. I know that if she were alive she would not let Uncle Hardwin bully me into marrying anyone I did not ... love.”

  “But I thought you hated men?” the Marquis questioned. “Yet you are hoping to love someone.”

  ‘I shall never love a man,” Shikara said positively. “I hate them when they try to bully me, and I hate them when they have that stupid, swimmy look in their eyes and want to touch me.”

  She gave a little sigh.

  “When I told Uncle Hardwin that, he said I was unnatural; but I cannot see why one should say one likes people if one does not, and men repel me ... every one of them.”

  “I suppose really I should feel affronted when you say that,” the Marquis said.

  She looked at him and he thought to his surprise that she was considering him as a man for the first time.

  “But you are different because you say you hate women,” she replied. “If you tried to bully me or look at me in a sloppy sort of way I would hate you too!”

  “I will be very careful to do neither!”

  “Now you are laughing at me again,” Shikara said accusingly. “But as we shall never see each other after we reach Southampton, I see no reason why I should not tell you the truth.”

  “I prefer the truth in such circumstances.”

  Putting her arm on the table and resting her hand on her chin, she looked at him reflectively and said: ‘I wonder if you really mean that. I have a feeling that you are used to women making a fuss of you, fawning over you. That is why they bore you.”

  “I feel you are being uncomfortably perceptive,” the Marquis remarked.

  “It is tru
e, is it not?” Shikara asked. “I can see you are very rich, and of course as you also have a title women run after you like a lot of hungry dogs. It is really rather horrifying when you think about it. They do not want you ... they want what you possess.”

  “You are too young to be such a cynic,” the Marquis remarked.

  “I am not really a cynic,” Shikara replied. “I am just truthful and very few people speak the truth. Papa says it gets them into a lot of trouble, but then he is talking about things that happened centuries ago and he has only a few people to argue with him about that. Everything I say causes an immediate argument with everyone round me.”

  “If you are always as frank with them as you are with me,” the Marquis said dryly, “I am not surprised!”

  “I am sorry if I have offended you,” Shikara apologised. “After all, I should be grateful for your looking after me, and I am certainly very grateful to you for taking me to the station.”

  She glanced at the clock as she spoke.

  “Ought we not to be getting ready?”

  “There is no hurry,” the Marquis answered, “and quite frankly, what concerns me is the fact that you will get very cold without a cloak.”

  He rang the bell as he spoke and instantly a footman appeared.

  “Ask Hignet if we have anything in the house in the way of a cloak or wrap for the young lady,” he said. “Perhaps Lady Sarah left something the last time she was staying here.”

  “I’ll enquire, M’Lord.”

  “Who is Lady Sarah?” Shikara asked curiously.

  “My sister,” the Marquis replied. “She is married and lives in the country and when she comes to London she uses this house as if it was an Hotel. She usually leaves a profusion of possessions behind her, some of which we keep until she comes again, many of which have to be conveyed to the country at a great deal of inconvenience and expense!”

  Shikara laughed.

  “Let us hope your sister has left something really useful behind this time.”

  Her wish was granted.

  A little later Hignet appeared with a cloak in his hands that was of black velvet, lined with sable. “This is the only thing I can find, M’Lord. Her Ladyship wears it when she goes to the theatre.”

  “I think that would prove quite adequate,” the Marquis said.

  Shikara gave a little cry.

  “It must be very valuable! Your sister will hardly be pleased at my borrowing it, especially as she may not get it back for some time.”

  “I think we will risk her wrath,” the Marquis said. “Think if you died of pneumonia on your way to Egypt how it would lie on my conscience.”

  “In which case,” Shikara said with a little sideways glance at him, “I accept such munificence most gratefully.”

  It was certainly very becoming when she put it on at the last moment before they left the house.

  The Marquis’s comfortable carriage, drawn by four horses, was waiting outside and behind it was another carrying Hignet and the luggage.

  Shikara’s valise went with him and she thought how small and inadequate it looked beside the great pile of trunks which belonged to the Marquis.

  She climbed into the first carriage and the Marquis followed her.

  It was still dark, but the stars were fading and there was no longer a moon to vie with the glaring gas-lights in the street.

  The horses started off at a brisk rate and Shikara leant back against the comfortable cushions of the well-padded carriage.

  “This is where my adventure begins,” she said in an excited voice, “and I think ... yes, I really think I have escaped! However, I am keeping my fingers crossed, which is always a wise precaution.”

  “Very wise!” the Marquis said mockingly.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sitting in the swaying railway-carriage, Shikara thought with satisfaction that she had evaded her Uncle and was free.

  At the same time, she thought that she would not feel really safe until the ship that was to carry her to Egypt had left Southampton.

  Hignet had procured her a reserved compartment to herself, which actually was next to the one in which the Marquis was travelling, also alone.

  She had been provided with a foot-warmer, a rug, and already she had sampled the hot soup and tea in her hamper, the containers of which were wrapped in flannel.

  The carriages on the train were new and they were certainly superior to many of those in which she had travelled with her father in other parts of the world.

  At the same time, despite Lady Sarah’s fur-lined cape, it was very cold; Shikara felt that the tip of her nose must be blue, and there seemed to be draughts coming in from every part of the carriage.

  She had taken off her bonnet before reaching Nine Elms Station and had pulled over her head the hood which was attached to the cape.

  The fur framed her small face and fair hair and made her look very alluring, but the Marquis was obviously not interested in her.

  “Hignet will see that you have everything you want,” he said, and went to his own carriage.

  Shikara had in fact tried to pay Hignet twenty shillings, which was the First Class fare to Southampton.

  Hignet had shaken his head.

  “You are His Lordship’s guest, Miss. I am sure he did not intend you to pay for your own ticket.”

  Shikara tried to insist, then told herself she was being foolish.

  She would need every penny she had in her handbag and knew that when she reached Southampton she would have to sell a piece of her mother's jewellery.

  The fare on the steam-ship to Alexandria would certainly be expensive and in actual cash she only had a few sovereigns in her purse.

  When she was alone in the carriage she opened her valise and took out her jewel-box.

  She told herself that she had taken a senseless risk in putting her jewels into her valise, which she had actually left behind on the pavement when she ran away from the Marquis.

  Supposing she had never seen it again?

  If that had happened she would have been forced to return to her Uncle’s house and doubtless would have been punished for her escapade.

  She opened the jewel-box and looked with satisfaction at the pearls, diamonds, rubies, and sapphires which reposed inside on beds of velvet.

  Some of the jewels, especially the larger diamonds, her mother had inherited.

  But her father had been a generous husband, and perhaps because he had a guilty conscience about the times when he left his wife alone or took her on extremely uncomfortable journeys, he had always tried to compensate her with expensive gifts.

  Shikara looked at the jewels and thought she could almost name the countries they represented.

  The rubies her father had brought back from India, when her mother had stayed at home for her to be born. They were exquisitely set with small diamonds and pearls and backed with a mosaic of enamel in the way that the Indian craftsmen had done for generations for the Rajput Princes.

  The pearls Shikara remembered him buying in Persia, the sapphires in Ceylon, and the opals in Turkey.

  She did not care for them, believing the British superstition that they were unlucky, but she loved the turquoises that had come from various different parts of the East.

  Although they were by no means the most valuable, they were in fact her favourite stones.

  “I will sell one of the brooches,” she decided.

  She picked out a crescent set with large blue-white diamonds, which she was sure would fetch her enough money to last for months.

  Because she thought it was safer, she pinned the brooches on the inside of her coat and hung several necklaces round her throat underneath the. white lace collar of her blouse.

  The bracelets were more difficult because she thought they would show on her wrists, so she wrapped them up in a handkerchief and put them with various other objects in her pocket.

  “Now if I lose my valise,” she thought, “I shall still have my fortune with me.”<
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  Then because after moving about and taking off her fur-lined cloak she was shivering, she opened the hamper to eat some of the delicious sandwiches it contained and to drink a little more of the hot tea.

  At Woking, which was the first stop, Hignet came along to see if there was anything he could get for her.

  “I have everything, thank you,” Shikara said with a smile.

  Tm afraid it’s very cold, Miss.”

  “I am very glad of the rug and of course Lady Sarah’s cloak.”

  “You’ll soon be warm when you gets to the sun, Miss, and I’m sure we will be beating you to it, so to speak, in His Lordship’s new yacht.”

  Shikara looked interested and Hignet explained: “The newest and fastest yacht in Britain at the moment, that’s what the Sea Horse is. I don’t mind telling you, Miss, I’m looking forward to sailing in her.”

  “I am sure you are,” Shikara smiled.

  “Well, if there’s nothing I can do for you, Miss...?”

  “Nothing, thank you, but when we get to Southampton I should be grateful if you could procure me a hackney-carriage.”

  “His Lordship told me you’d be going to the docks,” Hignet said, “but if there’s not a ship in harbour, might I suggest, Miss, you goes to the Royal Cumberland? It’s where His Lordship always stays when we have to spend a night in Southampton.”

  “Thank you. I was going to ask you which would be the best Hotel,” Shikara told him.

  The guard blew the whistle and Hignet hurriedly shut the carriage door and ran down the platform to his own compartment in the Second Class portion of the train, where he travelled with all the luggage.

  “He is a sensible man,” Shikara said to herself. “I wish Pap would find someone like that to look after him, and if nothing else, to remind him to write home.”

  She did not believe her Uncle’s contention that her father was dead, though it was in fact very strange that she had not heard from him for so long.

  But she knew better than anyone else how engrossed her father could become in any new discovery or new “dig,” as the Archaeologists called it.

  Then he would seem almost to be transported into the past. He would often go a whole day without food simply because he never thought of himself or had any idea that he was hungry.