Love by the Lake Page 3

  She had played with the jewels like a child with a new toy and now Lolita looked at them quizzically.

  She knew that, although her mother had left her everything she possessed in her will, she had no wish to take her jewels.

  Then she opened a small drawer which contained a beautiful ring her father had given her mother when they were engaged. It had never been sold however poor they were, although once it had been pawned but only for a few weeks.

  It was gold set with three diamonds, not very large, but her mother had always loved it.

  Lolita put it on her finger.

  Then, as she opened another narrow drawer on the other side of the safe, she gave a little gasp. It was filled with banknotes which she realised could only belong to her stepfather.

  She had no scruples about taking what she wanted, although she knew it was stealing in a way.

  ‘If I said I would marry Murdock Tanner,’ she consoled herself, ‘he would give me this and a hundred times more to buy my trousseau.’

  She took two hundred pounds in notes and gold coins, telling herself that by the time it was all spent she would have found employment or someone would befriend her.

  She was vaguely thinking at the back of her mind that there was a cousin of her mother’s, or a childhood friend, who would be kind to her.

  She closed the safe, locked it and put the key back in the drawer and returned to her room.

  Fate had been kind and helped her when she most needed it, but it was not going to be easy, in fact the future was likely to be very, very difficult.

  At least she was using her brain and if she could not outwit her stepfather, she would only have herself to blame.

  ‘I shall pray,’ she thought as she walked into her bedroom. ‘And I know God will help me, as he has helped Mama and me in the past.’

  She put the money and the ring into her handbag.

  She lay on her bed trying to think of where she could go. Her mother’s family came from the North and Lolita was sure if she made her way there she would find someone who would remember her as a child.

  Her father’s family came from the same direction. In fact the original home of the Earls of Walcott and Vernon was only two or three miles from where her mother had lived.

  Her father had been educated at Eton and Oxford where he had not particularly distinguished himself. He had then joined the family Regiment, which he had served for two years, leaving because he could simply not afford it.

  His father had died and he had inherited the title. He found there were a number of debts which easily swallowed up the money he obtained by selling the ancestral home.

  However, he and his wife had been happy in a way which made Lolita’s childhood one of colour and love and it was only when she was much older that she had recognised how poor they really were.

  ‘If I go as far away from London as possible,’ she now told herself, ‘I just hope Step-papa will never be able to find me.’

  She was quite certain that he would be determined to pursue her as when he wanted something he never gave up the fight for it.

  However, Lolita boasted the blood of the Vernons in her veins. They had fought valiantly for their country and died for it. Yet still they continued to uphold the principles and propriety in which they believed.

  ‘How could I feel anything but degraded if I was married to a man like Murdock Tanner?’ Lolita asked herself.

  When her lady’s maid came to dress her for dinner, she put on one of the prettiest gowns she possessed and added a small string of pearls which her mother, of course with her stepfather’s money, had given her the previous Christmas.

  “You look lovely tonight, my Lady,” the maid said.

  “Thank you and I hope it’s going to be an enjoyable evening,” replied Lolita.

  ‘It will be something to remember,’ she thought, ‘when perhaps I will have to scrub floors for a living or teach children in one of the village schools now being opened throughout the country.’

  She felt that she would be able to earn a living somehow. At least she spoke good English and had a fair knowledge of the ordinary subjects children have to learn at school.

  As she descended the stairs she was holding her head high and at the same time her stepfather, wearing his dinner jacket, emerged from the drawing room.

  One glance at him told Lolita he had recovered from his bad temper. Now he had got, as he thought, his own way, he was prepared to be conciliatory.

  “I hope we will not be late tonight,” he said. “I have a very important meeting tomorrow morning and will need all my wits about me.”

  “I don’t think Lady Lansdowne will want to be too late and, as you know, Step-papa, it is one of the parties you asked her to give.”

  “I have received a note from her, saying there would be twenty people to dinner and another twenty coming in afterwards.”

  The footman placed his evening cape round his shoulders and he continued,

  “There is to be only a small band and I shall be interested to hear what you think of it. Lady Lansdowne says it is one of the best which has appeared this Season and she believes that the Prince of Wales is very pleased with it.”

  “In which case it must be good,” Lolita commented without sounding sarcastic.

  She was well aware that everyone wanted to entertain the Prince of Wales and if there was a band that he favoured, it would fly to the top of the tree.

  The footman ran the red carpet down the steps and Lolita walked towards the carriage, which was an exceedingly comfortable one drawn by two outstanding horses. They matched each other exactly and were black except for a white star on their noses.

  It was the sort of detail for which Lolita had to commend her stepfather, who demanded perfection simply because he could pay for it.

  They drove off in silence and then he said,

  “I feel sure, as you are a sensible girl, you will have thought over what I said to you.”

  “I have certainly thought about it, Step-papa.”

  “Well, that is what I want you to do. Although there is no great hurry, Murdock is not a man to waste time once he has made up his mind.”

  Lolita did not reply.

  They travelled on in silence until just as they arrived at Lady Lansdowne’s house, he added,

  “Few girls have such possibilities as you. Don’t forget that the young men who will flatter you tonight keep a watchful eye on my pocket. At least that will not be the case where Murdock is concerned.”

  It was the sort of remark that he would make in exceedingly bad taste.

  If he had left the subject alone she could have admired him for it, but now she felt her anger rising because of what he had just said.

  And terror was again clutching at her like an icy cold hand.

  Lolita felt as if she had been trapped and because her stepfather was talking so confidently she realised that he thought there was no fight left in her.

  He undoubtedly believed that he had completely won the struggle.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lolita woke early and waited until she thought her stepfather had gone down to breakfast before she rang for her maid.

  “I’m a little tired after the party last night,” she told her, “so I would like breakfast in bed.”

  It was brought to her about a quarter of an hour later and she was certain that by that time Ralph Piran would have left the house.

  Then she got up and when she was dressed she asked the maid to order her a carriage.

  “You’re going shopping, my Lady?”

  “Yes,” Lolita answered, “but I don’t want anyone with me as I am meeting a friend and having luncheon with her.”

  She paused and then said as if she had just thought of it,

  “I put some dresses in a case yesterday which require a little alteration. It is in the cupboard. Will you take it downstairs and tell the footman to put it in the carriage for me?”

  The maid obeyed and Lolita finished dr
essing.

  She had chosen a pretty, but not very spectacular gown. Her hat became her and was not particularly noticeable. The whole outfit was in a soft blue which would not attract attention.

  She picked up her handbag containing her mother’s ring and the money she had taken from the safe.

  She thought later that she would be wise to hide some of the money in the pockets of each of her other garments, so if the money was stolen from her bag she would still have some left.

  She then walked along to her mother’s room where the blinds were drawn and it was in semi-darkness.

  The nurse was elsewhere and so she was alone with her mother.

  Lolita knelt down by her bed and prayed fervently that her mother would recover, but she could not help thinking that if she died, she would be with her father and be as happy as they had been when they were together.

  Lolita rose to her feet.

  Although her mother had not moved since she had knelt beside her, she felt as if in some way she had blessed her and approved what she had decided to do.

  Perhaps she was half in the next world already with her father and both of them would understand why she was running away.

  She left her mother and walked slowly downstairs.

  When the butler bade her good morning, she told him,

  “I will not be back for luncheon, in fact I may not be back until dinner-time. I am spending the day with some friends, so I shall not keep the carriage since I know they will bring me home.”

  The butler nodded and she stepped into the waiting carriage, which was the one she always used when she was going shopping and was drawn by only one horse

  She saw as she sat down that the footman had placed her case on the small seat in front of her and she hoped that she had remembered everything she would require. It would be a mistake to spend any of the money she had brought with her unless she absolutely had to.

  She told the footman to drive to the large shop in Bond Street where she usually bought her gowns.

  On arrival she sent the carriage away, telling the coachman that a friend would be waiting for her.

  As it drove off she had the feeling she was stepping out of one world into another.

  The greatest adventure that had ever happened to her had now begun.

  The assistant who usually served her came forward smiling and Lolita told her that she required a new evening gown. It was for an important ball she had been invited to next month.

  “I cannot wear anything I have worn already,” she said. “So I thought you could show me some new designs.”

  “It’ll be a pleasure, my Lady,” the assistant replied, looking questioningly at the case Lolita had brought into the shop with her.

  “Oh, these are gowns I do not need,” she explained, “which I am giving to the friend with whom I am having luncheon. She is organising a sale for one of her pet charities and has assured me that any of the pretty dresses you have made for me will bring in a good sum of money.”

  “I hope that’s true and it’s very generous of you, my Lady, to give them anything so valuable.”

  Lolita laughed.

  “I doubt if there is too much value in old clothes, but there is always someone who will benefit by them.”

  Lolita had been sitting as she was talking to the assistant and now she rose to her feet.

  “I want to go out by the door at the side of the shop,which leads into Bruton Street. I am meeting my friend in the shop next door so there is no point in having the carriage wait to carry me such a short distance.”

  The assistant smiled.

  “Your Ladyship thinks of everything,” she said flatteringly.

  She suggested that one of her staff should carry the case, but Lolita said she would do it herself.

  “It really weighs very little and, as I have just said, it is only a short distance.”

  She said goodbye and then hurried into Bruton Street.

  When she was sure she was no longer being watched she saw a Hackney Carriage and hailed it.

  “Take me to Illingworth Square,” she ordered and the carriage drove off.

  As the Square was some distance away, Lolita sat back and thought that she was covering her tracks rather cleverly.

  She was sure that when it was discovered that she was missing, her stepfather would at first be angry and then worried. As a last resort, when there was no sign of her, he would undoubtedly engage a detective to discover where she was hiding.

  She was determined to make it impossible for anyone to find her.

  When they reached Illingworth Square, she paid off the Hackney Carriage.

  She had decided that the best course to take would be to find a livery stable where she could hire a chaise to take her out into the country. What was important was that the livery stable should not be anywhere near Berkeley Square and it must not be one likely to be questioned as to whether they had hired a chaise to a young woman looking like herself.

  She thought that she should leave the Square by the road which led to the North.

  She had just reached the livery stable when a small boy in floods of tears came running from the far end of the Square.

  He was running so hard that he bumped into her and Lolita had to put out her hand to prevent him from falling.

  “Whatever is the matter? What has hurt you?” she asked.

  He looked up at her and she saw that tears were pouring down his cheeks and his hand was bleeding.

  “You have cut your hand.”

  “She beat me – she beat me,” the boy sobbed. “I have run away – and I am never going back.”

  It was difficult to hear the words as his voice was hoarse with tears.

  Lolita thought she must somehow mop the blood from his hand, if for no other reason to save it soiling her dress.

  She looked ahead and saw there was a statue and in front of it a bench.

  “Come and sit down”, she suggested in a quiet voice, “and I will bind up your hand for you.”

  The weeping boy walked obediently beside her and his tears were now subsiding and then just as they reached the bench, he looked over his shoulder fearfully.

  “They will come and catch me and she will beat me again. I won’t go back, I won’t.”

  On an impulse which afterwards she thought very strange – it was almost as if she had been directed what to do – Lolita hailed another Hackney Carriage, which had just deposited a passenger and was slowly moving away empty.

  “We will drive away,” she said to the small boy, “and then they will not be able to catch you.”

  She opened the door as she spoke and he jumped quickly into the carriage.

  “Where do you want to go, ma’am?” the driver asked Lolita.

  “This little boy has hurt his hand and I wonder if you could take me to a quiet place where I could bandage it up and perhaps buy him something to drink.”

  The cabby smiled.

  “I knows somewhere as’ll suit you.”

  Lolita climbed in and pulled the door to and they drove off.

  “Now tell me who you are,” she said to the boy who to her relief had stopped crying.

  “I am Simon.”

  “And who are you running away from?”

  “Step-mama,” he answered. “She hates me – and she is always beating me. If Papa was alive – he would not let her.”

  Lolita was looking at his hand, realising that he had been struck several times by a whip and it was one of the weals that was bleeding so profusely.

  “Does your stepmother,” she asked him quietly “always beat on your hand?”

  “She beats my back – and all of me,” Simon replied with a sob. “I screams and screams – but she does not stop!”

  Lolita felt angry.

  If there was one thing she loathed, it was cruelty to children, especially a small child who could not protect himself.

  She remembered what her stepfather had said to her in his fury only last night, but she tho
ught it was unlikely he would beat her in the same way as Simon had been beaten and yet he might in fact do anything when he was in one of his rages.

  “Now you have run away, where are you going?”

  “I am going to my Uncle James. He would not allow Step-mama – to hit me because – he loved Papa.”

  “And where does your Uncle James live?”

  Lolita was beginning to think that she would have to take the small boy there and make his uncle realise how badly he was treated.

  “It’s a long way,” Simon replied slowly, “and I will be very hungry when I get there.”

  “Tell me where your uncle lives,” Lolita persisted, “and perhaps I can help you.”

  Simon looked at her as if he had just realised she might be helpful in his predicament. Now that he had stopped crying, Lolita saw he was a very good-looking little boy. He had distinguishing features which told her he was born of gentlefolk.

  “You have only told me your Christian name. You must tell me your uncle’s name, otherwise it will be extremely difficult to find him.”

  Simon put his hand on his head as if he was thinking. Lolita guessed that he was perhaps seven or not more than eight years old.

  She thought he was working out in his mind exactly what she wanted to know and finally he said,

  “I am – Simon Brook, but Uncle James – is Lord Seabrook.”

  Lolita was surprised.

  “Lord Seabrook,” she repeated, “and you think he would stop your stepmother beating you so cruelly if he knew what was happening?”

  “Uncle James loved Papa. He would not allow Step-mama – to be so horrible to me.”

  “But why does she beat you?” Lolita asked. “Were you being very naughty?”

  Simon shook his head.

  “She hates me and everything I do is – wrong.”

  He sounded as though he might cry again, so Lolita said quickly,

  “Now you will have to tell me where your uncle lives, otherwise I cannot take you to him.”

  “You will take me to Uncle James?” Simon asked in an excited voice. “That will be spiffing, and I need never go back to Step-mama.”