The Prisoner of Love Page 3

  Just for a moment Sorilda’s eyes widened, then without replying she went down the stairs quickly and back to the stables.

  Now she knew that her suspicions about the Duchess’s interest in the Earl were well founded and she was certain that they had known each other before Iris was married.

  In the stables she saw one of the horses was already saddled and bridled and a groom, wearing her uncle’s livery was waiting to set off for Winsford House.

  Huxley, with the note in his hand, was giving the lad instructions and he turned his head in surprise as Sorilda reappeared.

  “I forgot to say,” she said to him in a low voice, “that the groom should wait for a reply and bring the note to me.”

  She felt embarrassed as she spoke, knowing that Huxley would be aware from what they had already said, that she did not know the Earl and it was quite obvious for whom the reply was really intended.

  Huxley had been in private service all his life and well understood that however strange the behaviour of the Quality was, it was not for a servant to question it. So he simply replied,

  “Very good, miss. I expects ’e’ll be back within the hour, unless he has to wait o’er long.”

  “To save trouble ’ Sorilda replied, “I will come back to the stables in about an hour’s time.”

  “You do that, Miss Sorilda,” Huxley answered, knowing that it would be a good excuse for her to be with the horses.

  He gave the groom his instructions and Jim led the horse out of the cobbled yard and mounted.

  “And hurry back!” Huxley ordered. “I knows exactly ’ow long it takes to reach Winsford House!”

  The groom grinned back at him, touched his cap to Sorilda, then rode through the arched entrance of the stables and started to trot down the drive.

  “While I am here,” Sorilda suggested, “let me have a look at Kingfisher.”

  Huxley took her eagerly into the horse’s stable and Sorilda inspected the bandaged fetlock and talked to the horse in a way that made him nuzzle his nose against her.

  “Six o’clock tomorrow morning,” she murmured to Kingfisher and felt somehow that he understood.

  *

  It was actually a little earlier when Sorilda, riding Kingfisher, left the stables by the other entrance, just in case anyone was looking out of the windows of The Castle and should see her go.

  Huxley had Kingfisher ready for her even though she was early, having woken with a feeling of excitement because she could go riding.

  She had slipped on her riding habit, but, because she knew that nobody would see her at that hour, she had not put on her hat.

  Instead she arranged her hair as she used to do, with ringlets on either side of her face. But she knew that the pomade that Harriet had applied made them less curly and certainly less attractive than they had looked in the past.

  However, there would be no one to see her except Huxley and Kingfisher and she knew that they both loved her not for her looks but because of the feeling she had for them which came from her heart.

  She knew it was important to ride Kingfisher very gently, not allowing him to break into a gallop, but keeping him to a light trot.

  So early in the morning there was a mist under the trees and hovering over the lowest parts of the Park.

  The daffodils were in bloom and the first green buds were beginning to show on the trees. It had been a harsh winter and everything was rather later than usual and in consequence Sorilda thought all the more welcome.

  She loved the spring. It always seemed to her to renew a feeling of hope and faith in the world beyond this one.

  It also told those who were willing to hear that nothing was lost, nothing died that would not be reborn.

  ‘Perhaps it will be a spring for me too,’ she thought to herself.

  She remembered how last year, even though she was often lonely without her father and mother, she felt, because she was growing up that there were new vistas and new horizons ahead of her.

  It had been an optimism that was completely unjustified and, instead of going forward, she felt now that she was going backwards.

  Last week a blow that she had half expected had fallen when her step-aunt had told her that it was a sheer waste of money for her to continue with her Tutors.

  “You are too old for any more education,” she said. “Anyway, what is the point of all that learning?”

  “There is so much more I want to know,” Sorilda answered. “Please let me go on, at least with my music.”

  “Who do you think will want to listen to you?” Iris replied sharply. “Besides, your uncle cannot afford it.”

  This was untrue, but Sorilda knew that Iris required every penny that her uncle had to be spent on her and her alone.

  Never had she imagined any woman in such a short space of time could have collected such a large number of clothes and jewellery.

  Some of the jewels were Nuneaton heirlooms, but there were a number of new pieces, which she had persuaded the Duke to give her because for the moment he could refuse her nothing.

  It seemed extraordinary, Sorilda thought, that, with a trousseau and jewels that must have cost a small fortune, she could deliberately constrict and restrain her husband’s niece not only from having attractive gowns but also from enriching her mind.

  “Please – please,” she had begged, “let me continue with my music, at least until the end of the summer.”

  “No!” the Duchess’s lips were set in a hard line.

  Then her eyes narrowed.

  “You must learn to do as you are told,” she stipulated, “and be grateful that you have a roof over your head! I should have thought that there were plenty of relations who would be willing to have you live with them.”

  “You must talk to Uncle Edmund about that,” Sorilda answered.

  She knew as she spoke that the Duke who disliked his relations would pay no attention to Iris’s suggestion that she should be sent away.

  After she had spoken, she thought that it would be better for her to go even to an elderly cousin who did not want her.

  Nothing could be worse than staying here and being subjected day after day to the petty spitefulness of her new step-aunt.

  Then she told herself that not even that way was an escape open.

  The Duke, loathing his relations, would certainly not wish to communicate with them about her and it would hurt his pride to have to tell them that she could not continue to live with him at The Castle.

  Riding was the only time that she had a chance to escape, the only time she could be alone and not expect a peremptory summons to do something unnecessary for her step-aunt.

  She rode away from the house and as she did so she remembered how Huxley had said that, if she wished to see the Earl, she would find him at the Long Gallop near the Burnt Oak.

  This landmark was a tree that had been struck many years ago by lightning, but the burnt trunk still remained standing and so many directions on the estate started by, ‘turn right’ – ‘turn left’ – or ‘go North’ from the Burnt Oak.

  Half an hour’s riding brought her to the boundary fence that divided the estates of the Duke and the Earl.

  The Duke’s land extended a long distance to the East and South. Only in the West was he constrained by the estate, which had belonged to the Winsford family for generations.

  Just over the boundary there was a long flat piece of ground that was always known as the ‘Long Gallop’.

  The previous Earl had used it for training his racehorses, but Sorilda had heard that his son was now constructing a Racecourse on another part of his estate.

  She knew from the stable talk that it was not yet finished and she was therefore not surprised, as she drew Kingfisher in under the shade of some trees, to see someone riding at a tremendous speed on the Long Gallop.

  He was some distance from her and she watched his approach with interest thinking it must be a year since she had last seen the Earl and thought that he was not only the most handsome man she had ever seen but also the best rider.

  He flashed past her and she had an impression of superb horseflesh and a rider who seemed to be part of his horse.

  ‘I wonder if that is one of his new purchases?’ Sorilda questioned.

  Then the Earl drew his mount to a standstill and turned round to pass by her again.

  Now he was moving much more slowly and she had a chance to see the horse clearly and appraise it as she wished to do.

  It was a magnificent chestnut with a long mane and tail and every muscle under its shining coat rippled, proclaiming it to be a thoroughbred in first class condition.

  Although she did not realise it, the chestnut was just a little lighter in colour than her own hair.

  Now that she had inspected the horse, Sorilda, hidden by the overhanging branches of the trees, looked at the rider.

  Perhaps it was because she was now older or because she had heard a certain amount about him in the last year, but she certainly saw him now in a new light.

  ‘He is attractive!’ she told herself, ‘so attractive that he could undoubtedly be dangerous to any woman who lost her heart to him!’

  Chapter Two

  The previous day, riding across country, Jim had reached the Park of Winsford House in well under the time Huxley had expected.

  As he saw the huge house which had been remodelled at the beginning of the century, he thought that it was not only one of the most impressive buildings he had ever seen but he also knew that the stables exceeded in every way those of The Castle.

  He rode down the drive and then having crossed the bridge over the lake, he turned right towards the side of the house where the kitchens and servants’ quarters were situated.

  Knowing Winsford House well, Jim
knew where he could tie up his horse and, having done so, he went to the kitchen door.

  He knocked and walked in, looking for someone to whom he could give the note he had brought with him. Then he saw a familiar figure coming out of the room he knew to be the servants’ hall and gave a shout.

  “Betsy!”

  An attractive face was turned to his and there was no doubt from her cry that she was pleased to see him.

  “Hello, Jim! I weren’t expectin’ you today!”

  “I wasn’t expectin’ to come ’ere meself,” Jim answered. “How are you gettin’ on?”

  “All right,” Betsy answered. “But it’s not the same as being at The Castle and a-knowin’ you’re in the stables.”

  “I miss you too,” Jim said in a low voice. “I was terrified when ’er sent you away that you’d ’ave to go further afield than this.”

  “’Twere kind of cook to take me on,” Betsy said. “She said as ’ow she’d give me a chance seein’ as she knew me Dad when ’e were a boy.”

  Jim’s lips tightened in a hard line.

  He had been as appalled as all the other servants at The Castle when the new Duchess had thrown out Betsy, whose family had served The Castle for three generations, for no reason that anyone could ascertain and without a reference.

  As if she was upset by the expression on his face, Betsy said,

  “’Tis all right, Jim. I’m ’appy enough ’ere, so long as I can see you sometimes.”

  “You’ll see me all right,” Jim promised, “if I ’as anythin’ to do with it!”

  “Mind you, bein’ in the kitchen ain’t the same as being in the ’ouse, but I were lucky to be employed at all with nought to recommend me.”

  Betsy could not help the resentment in her voice.

  Every servant knew that it was extremely important from the very moment they went into service to have a good reference.

  The Duchess’s way of dismissing those she did not like without explanation and without the all important reference, which would ensure them employment elsewhere, was talked about not only in The Castle but over the whole estate.

  “Mr. Huxley says you were sent away ’cos you’re too pretty, and ’er Grace would get rid of Miss Sorilda too, given ’alf a chance!”

  “I knows that,” Betsy exclaimed. “I’ve ’eard the way she speaks to ’er. Made me fair sick, listenin’ to it, seeing as ’ow Miss Sorilda’s never been anythin’ but kind to everyone.”

  “That’s right,” Jim agreed. “Me Mum says ’er Ladyship were just the same.”

  Betsy gave a deep sigh.

  “It just goes to show, don’t it? A man should be careful who ’e marries.”

  “I intend to be careful,” Jim said. “That’s why I’m a-goin’ to marry you!”

  “Oh, Jim, it’ll be years afore we can save enough for that. Besides, if you’re still workin’ at The Castle, I don’t suppose ’er Ladyship’d let you marry me.”

  “Then I’ll find somewhere else to work,” Jim replied. “Nobody’s goin’ to stop me marryin’ you, I can promise you that!”

  He put his arms round Betsy as he spoke, but when he would have kissed her, she looked over her shoulder in a frightened fashion.

  “Not ’ere!” she exclaimed. “Please, Jim, not ’ere!”

  “Where, then? And when?”

  “Tomorrow night. I’ll slip out after supper and meet you at the end of the drive.”

  “I’ll be there and don’t be late, like you was last time.”

  She smiled at him and then, as if she heard footsteps coming down the passage, began to move away.

  “’Ere! Half a mo’!” Jim cried. “You ’aven’t asked what I came ’ere for.”

  He put his hand in his pocket and brought out the note.

  “For his Nibs from ’er Grace!” he announced. “And I’m to wait for an answer.”

  Betsy took the note.

  “I’ll take it to the pantry,” she said. “You’d better wait in the servants’ ’all.”

  “Come back quick as you can,” Jim said in a low voice.

  As Betsy hurried away down the passage, he strolled without haste into the large servants’ hall with its long table down the centre.

  Betsy walked along the passage towards the pantry.

  She had gone a little way before she glanced down at the letter she held in her hand and thought that the Duchess was like all the other women who were always running after his Lordship because he was so good looking.

  ‘Like flies round an ’oney-pot, they be!’ Betsy thought scornfully.

  At the same time she admitted that his Lordship was certainly handsome enough to attract any woman, whoever she was.

  Because she admired her new employer she thought it was a pity from his point of view that he should become involved with the Duchess of Nuneaton.

  Betsy was a good-natured, even-tempered girl, but the unjust way she had been treated had struck her a blow from which she had not yet recovered.

  Not only had she lost her job but she also felt that she had let down her parents who had always been so proud of their service at The Castle and humiliated herself in front of all her friends on the estate and in the village.

  She had gone to work for the Duke with so much pride, flaunting herself in front of the other girls she had played with as a child, because it had been a rule for several generations that the children whose fathers or mothers were already in service at The Castle, should have preference over everybody else.

  Then, when Mrs. Bellows, the housekeeper, was pleased with her and thought that she was getting really proficient in her duties as sixth under-housemaid, she found herself sent away and no reason given except that the Duchess wished her to leave.

  ‘I ’ate’s ’er!’ Betsy thought now, looking down at the Duchess’s rather flamboyant handwriting.

  She turned the envelope over and, as she did so, saw that the seal with which the Duchess had fastened the envelope was cracked.

  It must have been the way Jim had thrust it into his pocket, she thought, and hoped that he would not get into any trouble because the flap of the envelope was now open.

  Even as Betsy looked at it and worried about Jim, a sudden idea came to her.

  For a moment she thought that it was too outrageous even to be considered. Then impulsively, driven by a curiosity and some other feeling beyond her control, she left the passage and opened the door that led into the flower room.

  There were shelves holding some of the innumerable cases that were used for the flowers that the gardeners brought in from the hot houses all the year round.

  It was empty now and Betsy, shutting the door behind her, stood for a moment staring at the envelope in her hand.

  Holding her breath because she knew she was doing something so shocking that she was ashamed even to think of it, she drew the thick sheet of crested writing paper on which the Duchess had written her note from the envelope.

  Betsy had been to school, for the Duke provided one for the children of his employees in the village nearest The Castle and paid a schoolmistress to teach them.

  She could therefore read although slowly and it took her a little time to decipher what the Duchess had said, even though her handwriting was large and clear.

  Somewhat laboriously she read,

  “He will be away tomorrow night. Come at nine o’clock to the door of the West Tower, which I will leave open for you. It will be hard to wait until then, but I shall be longing to see you, to hear your voice and to be in your arms.”

  There was no signature, but, as Betsy finished reading the note, she let out her breath in an audible gasp.

  ‘Really!’ she said to herself. ‘If ’is Grace knew what was a-goin’ on ’e’d ’ave a bit of a surprise, seeing as ’ow ’e fair dotes on that new wife of ’is!”

  She slipped the letter back into the envelope, wet her finger and pressed hard on the seal and hoped that no one would notice that it was cracked.

  Then she went further along the passage towards the pantry.

  It was only as she was hurrying back towards the servants’ hall where Jim was waiting that the idea came to her, which was so fantastic that she told herself she must be demented even to think of such a thing.

  She opened the door of the servants’ hall and for a moment she thought that Jim had gone without waiting for the reply she had told the butler to bring him.