Theirs to Eternity Page 3

  Yet she was distinctly aware that she liked it today more than she had yesterday.

  It was now noon and the sun at its zenith was merciless. Davina wished she had brought something to drink. She remembered her apple and, taking it from her purse, began to munch happily.

  A rustling sound behind her made her turn.

  She was gazing down an overgrown pathway that ran into a cool, green wood. A small deer stood trembling in her view. For a moment its liquid eyes settled on Davina. Then it shot away, its white bobtail vanishing amid the trees.

  Davina followed, drawn as much by the idea of sweet shade as by curiosity as to where the path led.

  It was man-made, a series of stones twisting and turning round the roots of evergreens and still vaguely visible beneath a layer of moss.

  Finally she came to a clump of hawthorn that had grown right across the path. Forcing her way through she found herself in a little glade. In the centre of the glade was a tombstone, horizontal in the grass. Across its inscription lay a fresh bunch of wild flowers. Intrigued, Davina pushed the flowers aside to read,

  EVELYN FELK,

  ERRANT WIFE,

  BORN 1815

  DIED 1837.

  She barely had time to muse on this find when a gust of wind shook the bushes and trees around her like rag dolls. Everything seemed to be in sudden, wild motion. The glade had darkened and peering up through the boughs she saw that angry black clouds were racing across the sun.

  With one more glance at the name on the tombstone, Davina lifted her skirts and stumbled through the bushes. It was too gloomy to make out the path and so she zig-zagged through the trees with only her own instinct to guide her.

  Alas, it was not enough! Bursting from the cover, she found herself on an unfamiliar tract of land. There was no lake and no house, only open field and sky.

  Rather than go back into the wood, seeming more impenetrably dark by the minute, she decided to skirt the trees hoping to find her way back to the lake that way.

  After fifteen minutes of hurrying through the long grass she faltered.

  Perhaps she was going the wrong way? Perhaps she should turn back and skirt the trees in the opposite direction? When she turned, however, she was facing the wind. It whipped her cheeks and tugged at her skirt and shawl. She clamped a hand to her bonnet and struggled forward. The cold made her eyes stream and, worse, she felt the first few drops of threatened rain.

  ‘I am going to get drenched and cold and – I’ll be lost forever,’ she shivered. As a low branch lashed at her face, she screamed and spun aside from the trees.

  Facing the horizon, she saw to her unbounded relief, the figure of a horse and rider wheel about at her cry and come galloping towards her over the field. When she recognised the steed as a black stallion her heart lifted even higher.

  It was Howard Delverton come to rescue her, she was certain!

  Such a fierce blast of wind suddenly stung her eyes that she had to lower her head and keep it lowered. She was using all her strength now to remain upright.

  When the stallion arrived at her side she could not look upon the rider’s face. But she was aware of the strong arms that reached down and lifted her up in one sweep to the saddle, heard the strong, commanding voice as it urged the stallion to stay steady. One hand clasped Davina’s waist and she sank with relief against the firm, masculine frame behind her.

  “We are in for a bad storm,” her saviour cried above the wind. “May I ask whither you are bound, madam?”

  “P-Priory Park,” she stammered as loudly as she could.

  Her companion wheeled his horse round and they set off at a gallop. In a moment she saw a high fence appear to their right.

  “You had left the boundary of Priory Park estate,” her companion cried.

  “Rather than return through the wood, I am going to jump the fence. Hold tight.”

  The horse and its two riders soared through the air. She felt herself gripped against Howard’s breast and closed her eyes with an unexpected sense of ecstasy. She was barely aware when they landed. Her heart was beating loudly, but not with fear.

  The lake was soon in view. Horse and riders raced towards the house and reached it just as the thin drops of rain turned into large icy hailstones.

  The horse was guided straight up the steps of the terrace and in under the protruding shelter of the portico. Its rider leapt from the saddle and turned to help Davina down. She saw his face for the first time and froze.

  It was not Howard Delverton at all! It was his elder brother, Charles.

  The grave one, the serious one, with the dark eyes.

  Charles regarded her with what she thought was impatience.

  “Well, madam, do you wish to descend?”

  “I-I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I do, of course.”

  His hands grasped her waist and she felt herself lifted carefully to the ground. She stood speechless before her rescuer, aware that her eyes still streamed and that her bonnet was askew. For a moment, Charles gazed gravely at her. Then, with a sudden reach of his hand, he gently straightened her bonnet, after which he gave her a slight bow.

  “I trust you are no worse the wear for your adventure,” he said.

  “N-no. I must thank you for your help. Please – can I offer you some refreshment?”

  “Thank you, no. I must ride on home or my aunt will imagine I am drowned.”

  For the first time Davina was aware of the hail drumming on the portico roof.

  “B-but you may well be drowned, if you venture on in this deluge!”

  “This? A deluge?” Charles smiled, almost grimly. “This is nothing compared to the rains of Africa! The hail there could stun an elephant.”

  With another bow he leapt into his saddle. He raised a hand in farewell, dug his heels into the steaming flank of his horse, and was gone.

  Davina drew in against the wall, wondering.

  She could not have imagined Felix Boyer acting with such authority.

  She was not even sure that Howard, so similar in his demeanour to Felix, would have behaved in such a commanding way. She had felt so – so safe in Charles Delverton’s hands.

  It was a new sensation for Davina.

  Looking up, she saw the butler gaping at her from one of the French doors that opened from the terrace into the drawing room. He had obviously seen her arrive on the black stallion.

  The afternoon had grown so dark that the lamps were being lit and the butler held a burning taper in his hand as he hastily opened the door for Davina to enter.

  Davina nodded a greeting, shook out her shawl and removed her bonnet, then hurried towards the hall. At the door, however, she suddenly remembered what she had seen in the wood. She paused and turned.

  “Parfitt.”

  “Yes, miss?”

  “Have you heard of the name – Felk? Evelyn Felk?”

  Parfitt stared at her, unblinking. “No, miss.”

  Davina was not sure that she believed him, but she walked on into the hallway and ran up the stairs.

  Reaching her bedchamber, she rang for Jess and then sat down before her dressing table. Her hair had come loose and fell untidily over her shoulders. The rims of her eyes were raw from the wind and her cheeks were as red as – as lobster shells. What must Charles have thought of her? She took up the hairbrush and was absently drawing it through her stray curls when Jess bustled in.

  “You should have waited for me, miss.”

  Davina sat silently for a moment, watching her maid in the mirror.

  “Jess,” she said, “have you ever heard the name Evelyn Felk?”

  “No, miss,” said Jess quickly – too quickly, her eyes flicking for an instant at the portrait that hung above their heads.

  Davina’s gaze lifted to the same portrait and at once she knew. All thoughts of her recent encounter with Charles Delverton flew from her mind.

  The mournful, romantic young woman depicted in the painting was surely the same young woman who was bur
ied out in the lonely forest.

  She was surely Evelyn, errant wife!

  *

  The next morning Davina awoke with a severe headache and sore throat.

  She nonetheless insisted on getting dressed and repairing to the large drawing room. Her father was due back that afternoon and she had no wish to be confined to bed when he arrived.

  The weather had not improved since yesterday. The sky was grey and rain pattered relentlessly at the windows. Davina felt cold and asked for a fire to be lit.

  “I think you should be in bed, miss,” scolded Jess, watching as one of the servants set a taper to the logs piled in the large hearth.

  “Nonsense!” said Davina. “What good would that do me? I am resting as much here as I would be in bed.”

  “Well, if you’re not better by lunch, I’m having the doctor called,” grumbled Jess, tucking a rug about her mistress’s knees. “His Lordship said I was to look after you.”

  Davina sighed and lay back on the sofa. There was a pile of books at her side, but she was content for the moment to simply gaze at the logs as they began to glow.

  The events of yesterday played over in her mind. The grave in the woods and Charles Delverton had become inextricably linked in her imagination, though reason told her there could be no connection between them at all. Her heart thrilled every time she relived her rescue.

  She was used to men with silver tongues and polished manners. She was used to men who smiled easily and wielded charm like a weapon. She was not at all used to men who looked grave and made no effort to impress her.

  Smoke from the fire began to waft into the room and Davina wrinkled her nose, wanting to sneeze. She was searching in her reticule for a handkerchief when Parfitt appeared at the door.

  “Lord Delverton has arrived to pay his respects, Miss Davina,” announced Parfitt.

  “L-Lord Delverton?” repeated Davina. The sudden pounding of her heart took her by surprise and her hands flew to her cheeks, which felt suddenly flushed.

  Parfitt regarded her with concern. “Shall I tell him you are indisposed, Miss Davina?”

  “Yes – I mean no. No. I will receive him.”

  He bowed with surprise and left the room. Jess opened her mouth to protest, but at a pleading look from Davina, she gave a sniff and moved to sit in the corner, a silent chaperone.

  Charles Delverton, strode into the room, but stopped with a start when he saw Davina at full stretch on the sofa.

  “You are – not well, madam?’ he asked with concern.

  Davina waved a hand as airily as she knew how. She had it in mind that Charles was used to a different species of women than she had ever encountered. The kind of women who followed their men-folk to Africa, dealing with snakes and mosquitoes and wild animals with never a word of complaint. She was determined not to appear a fragile little rich girl.

  “A c-chill, Lord D-Delverton. Nothing at all. I am s-so pleased to see you. Do sit down.”

  Charles took a seat, scanning her face warily. He was struck by the brilliance of her violet eyes, shining like diamonds in the darkness of a mine, he thought.

  “You – you were very gallant to me yesterday,” continued Davina. “I do not know how to thank you.”

  Charles inclined his head. “I did what any gentleman would have done in the circumstance, madam.”

  “I am – sure that is not the case – my Lord.” Davina found herself faltering under Charles’s gaze. It was so severe, so very penetrating.

  He must have a good deal of weighty matters on his mind, she thought, passing a hand across her brow.

  Charles made as if to rise. “I am afraid I am tiring you, madam.”

  “Tiring me?” Davina made an effort to appear nonchalant. “Oh, not at all, my Lord. I was just wondering whether – whether I might ask you a question?”

  “By all means.”

  Davina glanced over at Jess, whose head seemed to have sunk drowsily onto her chest. Then she leaned forward conspiratorially, speaking in a rapid, low voice.

  “Have you ever heard the name – Evelyn Felk? Because you see yesterday I found a grave in the wood inscribed with that name. And I found a portrait in the attic and I am sure it’s the same woman. Only nobody will tell me about her. Do you know the history of Priory Park? You must do if you grew up in the area. You did grow up in the area, didn’t you?”

  The ghost of a smile flickered on his lips.

  “Which exact question is it I am to answer?” he enquired.

  Davina fell back, her face heated. “Oh, I’m sorry – I do seem to be prattling on, don’t I? Perhaps you could answer them all and then I would – oh! oh!”

  “What is the matter?’ cried Lord Delverton, rising in alarm. Jess too sprang up and gazed bewilderedly about her.

  “I – I think I am going to sneeze!” wailed Davina.

  Charles seemed to grasp the dilemma in an instant. He thrust his hand into his waistcoat and drew out a large handkerchief. Davina seized this article eagerly and pressed it to her face.

  “A – choo. A – choo. A – choo!”

  Davina thought she detected a twinkle in Lord Delverton’s eye as she at last raised her head from the handkerchief.

  “I am so sorry,” she snuffled. “I foolishly left my handkerchief case upstairs.”

  “Why then, I am glad I was here to be of service,” said Charles, glancing at Jess as she resumed her seat in the corner.

  “Now, regarding the questions that you have asked me. I will start by telling you that I did indeed grow up in this area. My family have been settled at Lark House since the seventeenth century.

  “Priory Park was built in the late 1830’s or thereabouts by one Hubert, Lord Felk.

  “He had it built for his young wife, your very Evelyn. However they produced no children and after their deaths the house was abandoned. My brother and I and a childhood companion used to play in the grounds and in the semi-ruins when we were boys.”

  “Is that – all?” she asked.

  He turned from the fire. “All?”

  “You – you said there was a tragedy. Was it something to do with Evelyn being an – an errant wife?”

  Jess threw up her hands. “Bless me, miss, where’d you hear that? I didn’t tell you, to be sure.”

  “Indeed you didn’t,” acknowledged Davina patiently. “It was inscribed on the grave, after her name.”

  She jumped as a flaming log slipped noisily sideways in the hearth.

  Charles rose to take up the poker and re-arrange the fire. He stood staring down into the glow for a moment and then he spoke.

  “I am afraid I do not know any other details of the story,” he said. He turned and picked up his gloves, which he had left on the arm of his chair.

  “I am pleased to see that you have suffered no serious after effects from your adventure yesterday. And now, madam, I must return home to my brother and aunt. I promised to join them for lunch.”

  He bowed politely and left the room.

  Davina stared after him.

  “Lord Delverton does know the details, I am sure of it!’ she exclaimed.

  “Why wouldn’t he tell me, Jess?”

  “Well, miss, it’s a bit – a bit delicate for a gentleman to relate to a young lady.”

  “Oh, Jess, now I’m too curious!” cried Davina. “I’ll die if you don’t tell me! I will give you that Chinese shawl you like if you do,” she added quickly.

  Jess struggled with herself. She shouldn’t tell, she knew she shouldn’t, but she could just see herself at church of a Sunday in that lovely green shawl. And surely Miss Davina already guessed the gist of story, having read those words ‘errant wife’ – “I suppose there’s no real harm,” the maid said at last, “but you’re not to let on to your father that I told you, for he instructed everyone in the house never to mention it.”

  “My father did?”

  “Yes, miss. He said it wasn’t a story for a young lady’s ears, particularly one as sensiti
ve as yourself.”

  Jess continued, “Anyway, it’s like this. Lord Felk built Priory Park so as to keep his wife away from society. She was much, much younger than him, see, and he was jealous and possessive and wanted her all to himself.

  “But it didn’t do him no good, because soon after they started living here, Lord Felk took ill. He used to have fits, they say. And his wife, well – she took up with someone else.”

  “A lover!” breathed Davina.

  “Yes, miss. Apparently he wasn’t – of her class, but she was besotted with him, so they say. Lord Felk found out and he – shot the lover. Then he shot himself.”

  Davina gasped. “And what happened to Evelyn?”

  “She went mad, miss. She used to wander the grounds at night, in her shift. Looking for her lover, they say.”

  Now that she had allowed herself to tell the story, Jess was extracting all the relish out of it that she could.

  “Then one night, miss – one dark and stormy night when you couldn’t see no moon nor stars – she drowned herself. In the lake.”

  Davina’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh – the poor creature.”

  “That’s what you get for being errant, miss,” said Jess firmly. “And there’s worse. There were rumours of a – a baby.”

  An image came to Davina of the room where she had discovered the painting. A faded plush sofa, a table covered with a moth-eaten cloth and, in a corner, a little wicker cot.

  “I don’t think the baby was a rumour, Jess,” she said slowly.

  “Maybe not, miss, but there was never any sign of it. A distant cousin of Lord Felk arrived and had Evelyn buried out there in the woods. Where she and her lover used to meet. The house was boarded up and left to rot. The cousin didn’t want it, after what had happened here.”

  Jess added dramatically, “it’s said that Lady Felk’s ghost still haunts the grounds.”

  Davina shook her head wonderingly. “A ghost? Well! You certainly know a great deal about it all.”

  “Everyone in these parts knows about it. I suppose I might know more than most because my grandmother was a cook here under Lord Felk.”