The Castle Page 4

  “Sir Peter,” stated Juliette, “’e say ’e should jump in, but ’e cannot swim!”

  “How extraordinary,” murmured Valeria.

  “Lord Waterford, ’e say nothing, but ’e take off ’is jacket and – and pantalons. ’E take the knife, ’e climb up and, pouf, ’e is in the water.”

  Meanwhile servants had rushed to launch the little boat.

  “We ’old our breath. When Lord Waterford rises with little Marie, we all cheer. You ’ear us?”

  Valeria nodded, but truthfully she could not recall anything beyond the girl and the struggle with the weeds.

  “Marie – she is all right?”

  Juliette nodded emphatically.

  “Marie is petite-fille, ’ow you say in English?”

  “Granddaughter.”

  “Marie is granddaughter to le Comte. ’E wants to tell you many many thanks.”

  Juliette hugged her friend.

  “All say that you are ’eroine. You ’ave such such courage, chérie. I could not jump like that, never!”

  She gave a theatrical shudder.

  “Of course you could, if there was nobody else. There was only me, you see. Sir Peter had gone to find us more champagne, though from what you say, he would not have been able to help even if he had been there.”

  “Ah, Sir Peter! ’E is so attractive, n’est ce pas?”

  “He said that he knows you well and he appears to be great friends with your Jean-Pierre.”

  A twinkle appeared in Juliette’s eyes.

  “Once we were great friends. Once – ” she let the sentence die away, a misty look on her face

  “And now you are engaged to Jean-Pierre – ”

  “Of course. And we shall be very very ’appy.”

  Then there was a knock on the door and Madame du Goncourt, Marie’s mother, entered to give her profound thanks to Valeria.

  “It is Lord Waterford you should thank,” Valeria suggested in French. “Without him, I am afraid that your daughter could not have been rescued.”

  “But you gave her so much hope,” said Madame du Goncourt. “She says she thought she would die, but then came an angel and told her she would live.”

  Valeria felt very humble.

  She had not thought that she was being brave when she jumped in, only that a child was in deadly danger.

  “And Lord Waterford, is he all right?” she asked in a small voice.

  This man had a knack of humiliating her.

  How could he pretend that his French was so bad that she should question the urchin boy this morning?

  It could only have been that he wanted her to learn how the poor lived. Had she given him the impression she automatically assumed that they were all thieves and not worth bothering with?

  “Oh, Lord Waterford is fine. His hands have been bandaged, but the doctor says they are not nearly so bad as yours – he had the knife. He is full of admiration for the way you went to the help of my darling daughter.”

  Was he really? Or did he just think she had been foolhardy?

  She told herself firmly that she did not care what he thought.

  Later Juliette informed her they were all to stay the night at the château.

  “Is Lord Waterford to stay as well?”

  Valeria was filled with both dread that she would have to encounter him the following morning and a certain strange excitement that they would be sleeping under the same roof.

  Juliette shook her head. He had refused the offer of a bed.

  He claimed that his part in the rescue had been no more testing than a morning swim.

  No doubt, Valeria reflected numbly, he considered that too much fuss was being made of her role.

  *

  The next day Valeria returned to the Desrivières’ château with the profound thanks of both the little girl’s parents and the de Gramonts reverberating in her ears.

  She had visited Marie in bed.

  The girl was pale, but otherwise seemingly full of life. Valeria laughed when the girl sweetly thanked her.

  “Do be more careful in future,” she advised, kissing her cheek. “You may not have Lord Waterford to rescue you next time.”

  “I needed you – both,” Marie replied in a breathless voice. “You are – my guardian angels now.”

  “Soon this guardian angel will be back in England, so make sure you do not need her,” Valeria teased her.

  Back at Juliette’s home, she realised her repeated diving into the water and her struggles to release Marie had taken more out of her than she had initially realised.

  That afternoon all she wanted to do was relax in the drawing room and listen to Juliette playing the piano.

  Her eyes half closed and listening to Chopin Etudes she allowed her mind to drift and she found herself thinking of Sir Peter Cousins.

  When, therefore, a servant came in to announce that an English gentleman had called and hoped to be received by Miss Montford, Valeria was sure that it was Sir Peter.

  She sat up quickly and asked for him to be shown in immediately.

  Juliette stopped her playing and smiled impishly.

  “Suddenly, chérie, you are not so tired!”

  Valeria pouted at her and straightened her skirt.

  “Lord Waterford,” announced the servant.

  Valeria’s disappointment was intense and the light left her eyes.

  Lord Waterford did not seem to notice.

  “Miss Montford, please forgive me for calling like this. I am about to return to England, but I could not leave without knowing how you were and expressing my deep admiration for your actions last night.”

  Valeria held out her hand.

  “Lord Waterford, it is I who should thank you for coming so – so efficiently to the rescue. Little Marie owes her life to you and I think I may too.”

  He bowed over her hand with none of Sir Peter’s flourish.

  “Nonsense. If you had had that knife, you would have been able to do what I did and sooner.”

  He turned to greet Juliette, who invited him to stay, then much to Valeria’s chagrin, ordered tea to be served.

  “An English custom Valeria ’as introduced ’ere,” Juliette remarked with a sly smile.

  He sat down and turned his attention to Valeria.

  “But, please, tell me that you are fully recovered.”

  “Why, as you can see – I am quite myself.”

  He regarded her keenly and she felt herself flush. What was it about this hateful man that caused her to react so strangely to his presence?

  “Your hands are bandaged. Are they injured?”

  For a moment Valeria thought he would take one in his. Automatically she buried them in her dress.

  “They are healing well, my Lord.”

  He gazed searchingly into her face then, seemingly satisfied with what he saw, sat back in his chair.

  There was a small silence that was filled by Juliette saying that her friends were to visit a carriage collection on the following day.

  “C’est une collection extraordinaire, it is great pity you cannot join us.”

  There was a short silence –

  “I hope,” Lord Waterford said carefully to Valeria, “that I may call on you in Richmond after you return.”

  “Why,” she smiled. “I should be delighted.”

  “When will that be? When do you return, I mean?”

  Valeria sighed inwardly and longed for Sir Peter’s charm and savoir faire.

  “The Desrivières have kindly invited me to stay as long as I like, but my father is anxious to see me again.”

  “Sir Christopher adores ’is daughter,” said Juliette, smiling. “But Valeria remains ’ere for two weeks, I think.”

  Valeria nodded.

  “And I may visit elsewhere on the way home. It is impossible to say exactly when I will return to Richmond. It may be that Papa will join me on the Continent.”

  Lord Waterford looked disappointed.

  Then tea arrived
and Jean-Pierre came in with the Comte Desrivières. They seemed delighted to see Lord Waterford and soon took him off to the smoking room for a discussion on politics.

  Juliette smiled as the door closed behind them.

  “I think Lord Waterford would like to remain ’ere with us, chérie. You ’ave made a conquest there.”

  “Nonsense,” muttered Valeria. “He hardly spoke to me. He has no conversation.”

  “Lord Waterford is, I think, timide.”

  “Shy? He can’t be.”

  For Valeria shyness belonged to very young men. Once past their twenties none of her friends were shy.

  When Lord Waterford reappeared later to say his farewells, she favoured him with a most brilliant smile. He seemed charmed, but there no sign of a blush such as a shy man would suffer.

  No, she decided – the man merely lacked presence.

  *

  The next day, viewing the impressive collection of carriages, she was able to contrast Lord Waterford’s poor conversational skills with Sir Peter Cousin’s ability to flirt outrageously with her.

  “What a mermaid!” he piped up as he joined the party. “To think that I missed the chance of a midnight adventure with you! I am arranging for swimming lessons immediately!”

  He bowed over Valeria’s hand and once again it felt on fire as he held it in his.

  “I am so devastated to find you still need bandages. Are your poor hands very sore?”

  He spoke to her with a quiet tenderness that almost brought tears to her eyes.

  Valeria hid her hands behind her back.

  “They are healing rapidly, thank you. Tell me, Sir Peter,” she hurried on, “are you a good driver?”

  They turned to inspect the carriages on display.

  Others in the party were exclaiming over the glories of a huge eighteenth century coach with ornate decorations, gold leaf paint and pale blue velvet upholstery.

  Jean-Pierre persuaded Juliette to climb inside.

  “See,” he cried. “It is a carriage for a fairy Princess and you are the fairest of all Princesses!”

  He bowed low to his fiancée as she sat in state.

  “He is quite right,” Valeria laughed to Sir Peter.

  But he was gazing at a high phaeton in the shape of a swan.

  “That is the carriage I see you in, Miss Montford. It would provide the perfect setting for your beauty.”

  The owner put his hand on Sir Peter’s shoulder.

  “You would like to drive this one? I had it out only yesterday – it is in fine condition and my team loves to pull it. Let me have the horses harnessed for you.”

  Valeria looked at the little seat perched high up on the extravagant wheels and her face lit up.

  “It would be a real treat, sir,” said Sir Peter. “You do me an honour, entrusting your horses and this splendid carriage to me.”

  It did not take long for a team of perfectly matched black horses to be harnessed to the phaeton – they seemed to be high spirited, snorting and shaking their heads.

  “Let me help you up,” offered Sir Peter to Valeria.

  She placed her bandaged hand into his, her foot on the platform and swung herself up into the passenger seat.

  Cheers came from below as Sir Peter joined her.

  “There is a path that goes right round the estate,” their host called out. “I suggest you take it. On your return you must do me the honour of joining us for refreshment.”

  Sir Peter set the horses off and the phaeton jerked forward.

  The phaeton was beautifully sprung so Sir Peter had no trouble handling the eager horses. As they moved forwards, Valeria found the motion delightful.

  Suddenly and unbidden the notion came to her that she would like Lord Waterford to see her sitting up here in this enchanting vehicle looking like a Princess.

  Hastily she banished the strange idea. She did not care where Lord Waterford was or what he thought of her.

  “How do you like this little foray, Miss Montford? Does it live up to your expectations?” Sir Peter asked, guiding the phaeton expertly around a corner.

  “Indeed, it exceeds them, Sir Peter. I could wish this ride could go on for ever.”

  He glanced down at her with a wolfish smile.

  “Shall we steal the phaeton and head for – where?”

  She laughed.

  “Why not Utopia? What could be better?”

  “Except that it doesn’t exist. I would prefer to take you somewhere in the real world. How about the Riviera?”

  “We could not go too far without having to change horses,” Valeria added provocatively, loving the fantasy of being whisked off to the South of France by this exciting man. “But would not the heat in Nice be too much at this time of the year?”

  “Then why not let’s go instead to Switzerland and walk hand in hand in flower-studded meadows?”

  “Oh, what fun to stroll in the Alpine hills. Do you know Switzerland well?”

  “Not well, but I really cannot think of a lovelier companion to take there. The lakes I hear are exquisite.”

  Back at the stables, as the groom held the horses, Sir Peter helped Valeria descend.

  As she reached her foot to the ground, he grasped her at the waist and lifted her down in a broad sweeping movement.

  A thrill ran through Valeria at the feel of his hands holding her so firmly.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, looking deep into her eyes and keeping his hands on her waist.

  She was so close to him she was sure he could hear the rapid beat of her heart.

  She lifted her eyes to his and blushed as she saw the admiration there.

  For a long moment they stood and Valeria was sure he was going to kiss her.

  She knew she should move away, but something held her in his thrall. Indeed without his hands around her waist, she felt she would collapse.

  Then from the garden came the sound of the rest of the party.

  The moment was broken.

  With a supreme effort Valeria drew back.

  “Thank you so much for such a delightful ride, Sir Peter,” she breathed.

  He took her hand and raised it to his mouth.

  “I could have had no more exquisite or entertaining passenger.”

  As the party finally broke up, Juliette looked innocently up at Sir Peter.

  “We shall be very ’appy to see you at the château tomorrow, if you care to join us at dinner?”

  “Alas, mademoiselle, I have to leave tomorrow. I have business in Cannes and then I return to England.”

  He turned to Valeria.

  “Perhaps I may call upon you there?”

  The sting of the disappointment she had felt at his words eased a little.

  “Please do, my father would be delighted to meet you,” she replied eagerly.

  “Oh, it is the daughter not the father I wish to see. I must try and make some arrangement.”

  As the Desrivières’ carriage carried her away with Juliette and Jean-Pierre, Valeria’s eyes were fixed on Sir Peter and her mind replayed his intriguing last remark –

  *

  Two weeks later, Valeria returned to England.

  As her train pulled into the station, she scanned the platform for the familiar distinguished figure of her father.

  “Papa,” she called. “Here I am.”

  He hurried over and she fell into his arms.

  “Oh, Papa, I am so pleased to see you again.”

  “And I you, my darling girl.”

  “It’s wonderful to be back to our lovely home.”

  Something twisted in his face. It was only for an instant.

  Almost immediately he was organising a porter to retrieve her luggage from the baggage van.

  On the way home he was uncharacteristically quiet and Valeria grew a little worried.

  “I hope nothing is wrong, Papa?” she asked finally, looking anxiously into his classical features.

  He gave her a quick smile.
>
  “No, darling. It’s just I have missed you terribly. Now tell me about your stay with the Desrivières.”

  The rest of the trip was filled with her enthusiastic description of the events of her French holiday.

  She did not, however, mention Lord Waterford or Sir Peter Cousins.

  “Are there any letters waiting for me, Papa?” she enquired as casually as she could when they arrived.

  “Letters, darling? No, I don’t think so, in fact I am certain, for Mrs. Richards would have mentioned it.” He looked closely at Valeria. “You are expecting a beau to be writing to you, are you?”

  It was only a faint hope that Sir Peter might write to her. After all he had asked for her address. No man had ever affected her in the way Sir Peter had and Valeria was sure that he was attracted to her too.

  She gave a long sigh and realised how disappointed she was.

  Immediately she followed her disappointment with the thought that maybe he was already on his way back to England and planning to call on her. Yes, she thought with a rising of her spirits, that was it.

  Waiting for Valeria in the hall was Mrs. Richards, the Montford’s housekeeper for many years.

  “Welcome home Miss Valeria,” said Mrs. Richards. “We have been looking forward to this day for a long time, have we not, Sir Christopher? Tea will be served in the drawing room very shortly. No doubt you would like to go upstairs and refresh yourself after your long journey?”

  “Travelling is always grimy,” she laughed as she started up the stairs. “I shall be glad to feel clean again.”

  She took a last look at her father as she went. She could not shake off the feeling that there was something that he was not telling her.

  As soon as she could, Valeria returned downstairs, her jacket removed and all travel stains washed away.

  It was such a lovely day that tea was served on the lawn beneath the graceful branches of a cedar of Lebanon.

  Despite her worries about her Papa, Valeria gave a sigh of contentment as she looked across the closely cut grass to the terrace that ran the full length of the house.

  Built by the Montford family in mellow brick over one hundred years ago, it was known as The Red House.

  Valeria poured out tea for her father and herself and hungrily attacked her favourite cucumber sandwiches.

  “Let me take a good look at you,” her father sighed, putting down his cup of tea.