Signpost To Love Page 4

  “So there is a gap in your historical education?”

  “Not – exactly.”

  She looked a little mischievous as she explained,

  “Of course being told that made me curious and I searched through Papa’s library when he was not there, to find quite a lot about the lovely ladies at the Court of Charles II and many references to Madame de Pompadour and the other famous courtesans.”

  “I am beginning to understand why your father thought that a Convent was the right place for you!”

  The Earl spoke severely, but his eyes were twinkling.

  “Now you are being very unkind,” Baptista protested, “and I have already told you that I was being punished not for my own sins but for Mama’s.”

  “That, I agree, is grossly unfair,” the Earl replied, “but I can understand your father not wishing you to go to Paris, unless, of course, you were very properly and respectably looked after.”

  He knew as he spoke that he was being tactless because one could hardly describe Lady Dunsford as being respectable, but he thought Baptista was not likely to realise that he had made a gaffe and went on,

  “It is the gayest and most extravagant City in the whole of Europe with a sophistication that is certainly not the proper background for a young girl.”

  There was silence.

  Then Baptista said,

  “There is nowhere else I can go – and when I find Mama I know she will – look after me.”

  “I am sure she will.”

  “Tell me about Paris,” Baptista pleaded, “as you see it, the buildings and, of course, the music and literature.”

  She gave a little sigh.

  “My Governess used to hint of all the new ideas and the interesting books that were being produced in Paris, but I was not allowed to read them.”

  The Earl told her of the splendour of the Opera House and the delightful and extremely intelligent plays that were being produced in the other theatres in Paris.

  Because she was obviously entranced by everything he said, he found himself growing quite eloquent on the subject of Offenbach’s music and the artists who were making the Academie and the Salon the art centres of the world.

  Only when luncheon was finished and he and Baptista were sipping their coffee did he return to the question he had originally asked her.

  “I spoke to you just now about money,” he said, “and I would like to know how much you have with you.”

  “I shall be – all right.”

  “That is not the answer to my question.”

  Baptista clasped her hands together.

  “Please – because you have helped me, I do not – wish to be an encumbrance or make you feel that you are responsible for me in any way.”

  “I am responsible for you whether I like it or not,” the Earl said. “At the moment you are my guest and I can hardly be so inhospitable as to turn you into the street without the means to carry you to your destination.”

  “I have told you that if Papa knows you have helped me he might make terrible trouble for you. He can be very vindictive if people oppose him in any way.”

  The Earl saw the little shudder Baptista gave and knew that she was thinking of the way she had suffered physically when her father was angry.

  “I assure you,” the Earl said firmly, “I am not in the least afraid of your father or of anything he can do to me.”

  This was not exactly true, but he felt it was something he had to say to boost his own self-respect.

  “That is why,” he went on, “I feel I must inform you that I am in fact the Earl of Hawkshead.”

  As he spoke he wondered if it would mean anything to Baptista and was surprised when she gave a little cry of recognition at the name.

  “Then you own Rollo and Apollo who won the two big races last year!”

  “That is true,” the Earl admitted. “Rollo won the One Thousand Guineas and Apollo the Gold Cup at Ascot. But I am surprised that you should be aware of it.”

  “I love horses,” Baptista said, “and, although Papa would have been very shocked if he discovered it, I always read the racing reports in The Times.”

  The Earl laughed.

  “You are certainly full of surprises, especially as you are Lord Dunsford’s daughter!”

  “Oh, I wish we had talked about horses while we were having luncheon!” Baptista exclaimed.

  Because her tone was so fervent the Earl replied almost without thinking,

  “It is a subject which perhaps we will find absorbing at dinner.”

  “I may dine with you?”

  He knew by the way she spoke that she had anticipated he might have been rid of her before then.

  “I shall be very honoured if you would do so,” the Earl said firmly.

  He wondered whether he was being foolhardy to the point where he was definitely inviting trouble.

  He rose from the table saying,

  “Because it would certainly be sensible for you to be as far ahead of your father as possible, I suggest we waste no more time but continue on our way.”

  They travelled quite a number of miles before it was dusk and they came to the town where they were to stay the night.

  For the larger part of the journey they did not converse.

  First because after luncheon the Earl left Baptista alone in the carriage while he rode and secondly, when he returned to sit beside her, she thought that he might be somewhat tired and was deliberately quiet.

  At the same time, although he was not aware of it, she had been saying a little prayer of thankfulness that she had been fortunate enough to find him and that he was carrying her further and further away from her father!

  It was difficult to explain to anyone how terrifying her life had become in the last two years when she had grown increasingly to resemble her mother and was in fact no longer a child but grown up.

  Her father’s hatred of her had seemed to increase day by day and, when he was not actually beating her he would continually slap her or hit her besides berating her for faults that she had not committed.

  She knew that it was only because he was identifying her with her mother.

  Equally it was hard to live with and at times she would wish that she could die rather than go on enduring a hatred that she knew was not normal and came from an unbalanced mind.

  Her Governesses had loved her and through reading Baptista managed to escape into a world of her own and at times be quite oblivious to her father thinking out excuses to persecute her.

  The best way she could escape from the menace of him was when she rode and fortunately for some reason she could never ascertain Lord Dunsford did not forbid her the enjoyment of riding.

  Everything else was either taken away or there was a long list of things she might or might not do.

  Her bedroom and sitting room were stripped of all the china ornaments, the pictures and even the cushions because they were frivolous and attractive.

  Her clothes were plain, austere and inclined to be ugly.

  The difficulty, however, Lord Dunsford found, was that everything once Baptista was wearing it, assumed a beauty and elegance that was part of herself.

  First he had tried to dress her in black, a suitable colour, he informed her, for those who must expurgate their sins.

  But black merely accentuated the clear whiteness of her skin, the gold of her hair and the blue of her eyes and other dark colours had the same effect.

  She was, of course, forbidden any of the frills, bows and laces that were very much a part of the fashion, but again the plain bodices seemed to accentuate the soft curves of her breasts and draw the eye to her small waist.

  Her travelling gown, which was a dull dark blue, had, the Earl noticed, made her seem very slim and its very severity made her appear almost Grecian rather than drab and dowdy as her father had intended.

  As he rode alone over the fields, keeping the coach travelling on the main highway towards Paris in sight, the Earl found himself wond
ering what Baptista would look like if she was dressed in the elaborate bustled gowns that Mr. Worth had made the rage in Paris.

  Then he remembered that she had not yet answered his question as to how much money she had with her and he thought that, when they reached the place where they were to stay the night and she had not even a nightgown, there would be various necessities she would wish to purchase through the chambermaids.

  ‘She must have brought some money,’ he told himself.

  Yet because it had made her look embarrassed and at the same time very attractive he began to think that was unlikely.

  The sun was sinking and the horses were growing tired when they saw the spires and roofs of a town ahead and the Earl said,

  “When we arrive I will provide you with a room for the night.”

  “I think I must – tell you,” Baptista said in slow voice, “that I – cannot afford to – pay for it.”

  “That is what I suspected,” he replied, “and now perhaps you will answer my question as to how much money you have with you.”

  “I am afraid – none!”

  “None!” the Earl exclaimed. “Then how on earth did you think you could reach Paris without any?”

  “I did collect a little money in one way or another, when I ran away the last time and almost reached London,” Baptista explained. “But Papa took it from me and, because he was determined that I should not escape again, he made one of the servants search my room two or three times a week. He only gave me money to put in the plate at Church when we were actually in the pew and he watched to see that I did not steal it.”

  “So how are you going to manage?” the Earl asked.

  “I just hoped that a – miracle would happen,” Baptista answered simply, “and when the accident occurred, all I could think of was getting away and, as I have already said, there you were – waiting like an answer from Heaven.”

  “God is said to help those who help themselves,” the Earl remarked, “but I am just wondering what will happen to you if I drive on tomorrow without you, as I intended to do, when you first asked me for a ride in my coach.”

  “I should quite – understand if you did that,” Baptista said, “and I would not – blame you in the slightest.”

  She spoke quietly. At the same time there was a look of pleading in her eyes that the Earl could not ignore.

  “You really must be sensible enough,” he said sharply, “to realise the dangers if you travel alone to Paris without having any money.”

  “No one could – steal anything from me,” Baptista protested.

  The way she spoke and the questioning look in her eyes told the Earl that she really did not understand that most men who saw her would not want money, but something very different.

  Because he had a feeling that she was going to question him, he said quickly,

  “I will take you to Paris and hand you over to your mother. Another time be more sensible and realise that one cannot eat and one cannot travel unless one can pay for it.”

  “I – did know that,” Baptista said meekly. “It was just that – there was no possible way I could get hold of any money with Papa watching me – and, although I prayed and prayed to be delivered, I was terribly afraid that my prayers would not be answered.”

  “Well, they have been!” the Earl said uncompromisingly, “and you now have to show a little common sense.”

  She looked at him enquiringly.

  “For one thing,” he went on, “we could hardly arrive in Paris without making some explanation as to why you are with me and the interpretation that most people would put on your presence would not be good for your reputation.”

  Baptista looked puzzled for a moment and then she said,

  “You mean people might think – because I was unchaperoned – that I was a – courtesan like Madame de Pompadour?”

  “That is one way of putting it,” the Earl fenced.

  Baptista gave a little cry.

  “But that is fascinating! I would love to be a woman whom men thought so alluring and beautiful that they built a theatre for her, as Louis XIV did, and painters, sculptors and china-makers all over France brought her their work to gain her approval.”

  “I am not actually a King,” the Earl pointed out mildly.

  “At the same time you are very important,” Baptista insisted, “and as you own such magnificent horses I am sure that the French consider you a King of the racing world – and if I could be your special courtesan – then I could ride your horses.”

  “Are you suggesting in a somewhat obscure manner,” the Earl asked, “that you should ride with me tomorrow?”

  “Oh, could I – please – could I?” Baptista cried. “It was an agony watching you ride over the fields while I had to sit in the carriage. I can ride well, I promise you, and as I am so light – I would not tire a horse as much as you do.”

  “You are very plausible,” the Earl admitted. “What about your clothes?”

  “I don’t suppose the horses will mind what I am wearing,” Baptista replied, “and you need not look at me.”

  “I have the uncomfortable feeling,” the Earl said, “that you are one of those women who get their own way by means that are not obvious to a mere man.”

  Baptista did not reply.

  She merely looked at him with pleading eyes and after a moment he said,

  “All right. You can ride tomorrow and if you arrive in Paris looking a mess, you must not blame me.”

  “I look terrible anyway,” Baptista said. “Papa would never allow me to have pretty gowns and he burned everything that belonged to Mama.”

  “Burned?” the Earl questioned.

  “Yes, he made a bonfire in the garden on the lawn and everything was taken out of her bedroom and thrown onto it. Her bonnets, her furs, her shoes, even her sunshades. I cried – but Papa said prayers all the time they were burning.”

  The Earl thought that if he read such a story in a book he would not believe it.

  He was quite certain the more he heard about Lord Dunsford that he was insane. At the same time a madman could be extremely dangerous and he had no wish to draw Lord Dunsford’s attention to himself.

  “What I was going to suggest, Baptista,” he said, “when you diverted my train of thought, was that while we are travelling together you should become my niece.”

  Baptista considered this, putting her head a little on one side.

  “Are you old enough to be my uncle?”

  “I most certainly am!” the Earl said positively. “You are only a child and I am practically middle-aged!”

  Baptista laughed.

  “No one would believe that and you are very impressive.”

  “Is that how I appear to you?”

  “I expect to everybody. You walk as if you have bought the earth on which your feet rest and, when you look down your nose at anyone, I feel quite certain that they flatten themselves on the ground!”

  “I have a feeling you are laughing at me,” the Earl said.

  Baptista’s dimples made little dents in her cheeks.

  “I would be much too frightened to do that,” she answered, “and really I am admiring you. I think you are magnificent and just what an Earl should look like. It’s only a pity you are not a Duke.”

  “I am sorry you are disappointed.”

  “Not disappointed,” Baptista said quickly. “How could I be? And I expect the French will feel overwhelmed the moment they see you.”

  “Let’s get back to my idea of your being my niece,” the Earl suggested. “I will instruct the servants that your name is Miss Baptista Hawk, which is, of course, my family name.”

  “It suits you,” Baptista said. “Although I think that you should be an eagle, which is the King of birds!”

  “I have the feeling that as my niece you should be more respectful and certainly not so personal.”

  “But I am saying nice things!”

  “Too nice and too intimate,” the Earl answere
d. “You should remember that if I was your uncle you would really be in awe of me.”

  “But I am,” Baptista said. “But perhaps it would be more fun if I was your courtesan.”

  “Fun or not, that is something you cannot be and must not pretend to be,” the Earl said sharply. “Get it into your head that you are my niece until the time when we find your mother and I can hand you over to her.”

  “You make me sound exactly like a parcel you wish to be rid of,” Baptista said a little wistfully.

  Then, as the Earl did not say anything, she asked,

  “Am I really such a – bother and a – bore?”

  There was something pathetic in the way she asked the question and, because the Earl felt sorry for her, he replied,

  “I admit you are rather a worry, but you are certainly not a bore, Baptista. And I am looking forward to the conversation we can have at dinner about my horses.”

  For a moment he was dazzled by the smile she gave him.

  Then they were driving through the narrow cobbled streets of an ancient town to the Hôtel de la Poste where the Courier whom the Earl had sent ahead from Calais was waiting on the doorstep to greet them.

  The Earl explained in a voice loud enough to be heard by anyone who was interested that his niece, Miss Baptista Hawk, had been involved in an accident on the road outside Calais and he had brought her with him, although unfortunately her luggage had been left behind.

  He repeated more or less the same story in French, when explaining why he needed an extra room on the same floor where his suite was situated.

  This was arranged and, as they went downstairs to the sitting room, the Earl said to the Courier,

  “Miss Hawk will, of course, require certain items for the night and as her gown has been torn in the accident, perhaps you could find a shop open even at this late hour.”

  “There should be no difficulty about that, my Lord.”

  “Then see what you can do,” the Earl said.

  He saw the excitement in Baptista’s face and he added,

  “I suggest, my dear niece, you tell Mr. Barnard exactly what you require and he will have it sent to your bedroom while you rest before dinner. As I also wish to rest we will dine a little later than usual and that will give him time, I hope, to purchase you a new gown.”