Lucky Logan Finds Love Page 5

  They belonged to her and if she was left with nothing else, then at least she could wear her mother’s clothes.

  She would feel that her mother was with her even if she were living in an attic.

  She closed the cupboard doors.

  Then, having strapped down and locked the trunks, she went downstairs.

  Her stepfather was in the drawing room and the inventory which he had obviously been reading again was on the table beside him.

  “Hello, Belinda! Where have you been?” he asked.

  “I have been packing up Mama’s clothes, because whatever else you may have pledged to the bank, those are mine!”

  Belinda spoke defiantly.

  Her stepfather, without looking at her, merely responded,

  “Yes, of course. They are obviously not part of the inventory your father had made.”

  As if he had suddenly thought of something, he asked,

  “What about furs? Your mother had some fine furs when I married her and I bought her some sables in Paris.”

  “Those are also mine!” Belinda replied firmly.

  In case her stepfather argued, she added quickly,

  “How could we ever allow anybody else to wear Mama’s things in which she looked so lovely?”

  Her stepfather rose from the chair.

  There was a sudden crash and Belinda knew that he had thrown his empty champagne glass into the fireplace.

  Then he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  She realised as he went that he was not angry with her.

  He was railing against Fate for taking the one woman he had ever really loved away from him.

  Belinda gave a deep sigh.

  ‘I am sorry if I hurt him, Mama,’ she said in her heart, ‘but he should not have placed us in this dreadful position!’

  Even as she thought about it, she looked round the room that her mother had made so pretty.

  It was a room she had loved ever since she had been a child.

  Then she went to the window and looked out into the garden.

  It seemed impossible with the sun sinking a little lower in the sky that so much beauty was no longer hers.

  She felt as if she knew every flower that bloomed in the garden, every blade of grass on the green lawns.

  The birds were going home to roost in the trees. She had listened to them ever since she was born.

  ‘It is mine! My home!’ she told herself defiantly

  Once again, because she was tilting at a windmill, she felt like bursting into tears.

  Then, as if her father was beside her, she knew that if she was to save her home and her stepfather, she had to be intelligent about it.

  She had to fight, and crying was only a sign of defeat.

  “I must – save it! I – must!” she murmured aloud

  As she said the words, a bird flew across the garden just ahead of her.

  It swooped upwards, silhouetted for a moment against the sun.

  She felt it was an omen, an omen that told her that, however dark things might seem, if she looked up, there was light.

  “I will fight – and I will –win!” Belinda shouted out aloud.

  She turned from the window and walking from the room, went in search of her stepfather.

  She felt that she had to comfort and support him. It was what her mother would want.

  She thought, too, that she must give him some of the strength that she herself had just drawn from her father.

  “Never give up!”

  The words seemed to be ringing in her ears as she walked across the hall.

  Chapter Four

  Belinda put on the jacket that went with her gown and a small hat that would not blow away in the wind.

  She came downstairs and saw that outside was the chaise with the two horses her stepfather had taken to London.

  Bates had brought her luggage down and strapped it on the back.

  George, the groom, grinned at her when she appeared, and she said,

  “Good morning, George. How are you? I expect your family was pleased to see you.”

  “That they was, Miss Belinda,” George replied. “And ’twere nice to be ’ome.”

  Belinda climbed into the chaise and D’Arcy Rowland picked up the reins.

  George, who had been holding the horses, jumped up on the small seat behind and they drove away.

  Belinda had not said anything to Mrs. Bates or to Bates about coming back.

  She felt that, if she admitted she was to be away for a long time, she would burst into tears.

  As they drove down the drive, it was with difficulty that she prevented herself from looking back and saying goodbye to the house she loved.

  She had the awful feeling that she was stepping from the past into the future and she had no idea what was waiting for her there.

  As they drove through the gates, she had a sudden thought and said to her stepfather in a whisper,

  “Are these horses still ours?”

  He shook his head.

  “I sold them three weeks ago to a friend of mine who kindly lent them to me so that I could bring you back to London.”

  Belinda did not reply.

  There was nothing she could say.

  She only thought that the bottom had fallen out of her world and she was falling with it.

  Almost as if she had asked the question, her stepfather added,

  “I persuaded my friend to engage George, as I could no longer afford to pay him. He is a good lad and excellent with horses.”

  Belinda knew that this was true.

  She thought that perhaps it was a good thing that there was only Rufus and one other old horse left in the stables. Bates could easily manage them, but if there were more, he would have to ask for more help.

  They drove on in silence.

  Belinda tried to enjoy the beauty of the countryside and the hedgerows in blossom. There were lambs in the fields and the birds were building their nests.

  She had the terrifying feeling that in going away from her home and everything that was familiar to her, she would never be able to return.

  They drove on and on.

  She knew her stepfather was determined to take her to London quickly.

  He was eager for her to start spying on Marcus Logan.

  She tried not to think of how degrading it was for her father’s daughter to stoop to doing something of which he would violently disapprove.

  There was, however, no alternative.

  As she had thought yesterday, she was sure that her stepfather had been truthful when he said he would not face prison and that he would rather die.

  They reached the outskirts of London and now the horses were beginning to tire.

  For the first time, Belinda thought of her appearance and asked,

  “Will I be able to tidy myself before I visit Lady Logan?”

  “Of course,” D’Arcy Rowland answered. “I have thought of that.”

  He did not explain.

  About a mile farther on he turned in through some gates that belonged to a house that stood back from the road.

  “A friend of mine lives here,” he explained, “and I asked her permission for you to tidy yourself up and have a cup of coffee before we proceed any further.”

  Belinda was glad.

  But when the horses pulled up at the front door, she was surprised by the sight of the servant who was waiting to receive them.

  He was dressed in the most fantastic livery she had ever seen.

  He seemed also, she thought, to be on very familiar terms with her stepfather.

  “Nice to see you, Cap’n,” he said. “The Mistress were a-wonderin’ where you be when you turns up like a bad penny!”

  D’Arcy Rowland gave a short laugh, but did not reply.

  The servant walked across the hall to open a door on one side of it.

  “’Ere be ’is Nibs’!” he announced cheerfully. “Now you can stop worryin’ as to what’s become of
’im!”

  D’Arcy Rowland walked into the room ahead of his stepdaughter.

  A woman was sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace and Belinda stared at her in astonishment.

  Although it was late in the morning, she was still wearing a garment that was elaborate but quite obviously a dressing gown.

  As she moved, Belinda saw that she was still wearing a nightgown beneath it. Her face was painted and her long eyelashes were mascaraed and her red hair was caught back in a bow at the nape of her neck.

  She gave a cry of delight as soon as they entered the room.

  Jumping to her feet, she ran towards D’Arcy Rowland.

  “How can you have neglected me for so long?” she complained. “Until your message came saying you would call here this morning, I thought you must have died!”

  “I very nearly have,” D’Arcy replied.

  As he spoke, he put his arm around the woman and kissed her cheek.

  She touched his face affectionately with her hand.

  “Well, you’re here now,” she said, “and – who is this?”

  There was a suspicious query in her voice as she looked at Belinda.

  “This is my stepdaughter about whom I told you in my note,” D’Arcy Rowland replied.

  “Stepdaughter?” the woman queried. “She looks suspiciously pretty to be that sort of relation to you!”

  “Nevertheless, it happens to be true,” D’Arcy Rowland answered. “Let me introduce you. Belinda – this is a very famous and glamorous lady who entrances large audiences at the Drury Lane Theatre every night.”

  He paused a moment before he added,

  “One day I must take you to see her. Her name is Madame Yvonne to you as well as to everybody else in London.”

  Madame Yvonne laughed.

  “If your stepdaughter can sit in the stalls, then why have you not been to see me? I couldn’t believe you would disappear like that!”

  “It’s a long story,” D’Arcy Rowland replied, “and what I would like to suggest, Yvonne, is that Belinda goes upstairs and washes away the dust while you give me a glass of champagne.”

  “It’s waiting for you, you naughty boy!”Madame Yvonne said. “And Jim’ll take that pretty creature up to Lottie.”

  She glanced across the room as she spoke.

  It was then that Belinda realised that the servant in his flamboyant livery was still standing by the door.

  It was obvious he had been listening to every word of the conversation.

  “I’ll look after the young lady,” he promised.

  Belinda realised that neither her stepfather nor Madame Yvonne were paying her any further attention.

  She joined Jim at the door.

  They walked out into the hall and he led her to the foot of the stairs.

  “I’d no idea ’is Nibs ’as a stepdaughter,” he said conversationally. “I suspect ’e keeps quiet about it, as it’d make ’im seem old to ’ave one!”

  Belinda did not know how she should reply to this.

  Jim was moving quickly up the stairs and she followed behind him and when they reached the landing, he shouted at the top of his voice,

  “Lottie! Where are you, Lottie?”

  For a moment there was no reply and he moved farther along the corridor.

  Then out through a door came a maid elegantly dressed and wearing a muslin cap trimmed with lace.

  She wore a gown which fitted her so tightly that it showed off the curves of her breasts and over it there was a saucy little apron, also trimmed, like her cap, with lace.

  “What d’you want?” she demanded.

  Then, when she saw Belinda, she obviously prevented herself from saying anything further.

  “We’ve got a visitor,” Jim said, “and the young lady’d like to clean ’erself up. I suppose you’d look after ’er.”

  “’Course I will,” Lottie agreed. “Come this way, miss. I’ve just finished tidyin’ up the room.”

  She went back through the door from which she had emerged.

  Belinda followed her and suppressed a gasp of astonishment.

  Never had she imagined that any room could look so fantastic.

  It was as if it were part of a stage set rather than a real bedroom.

  There was a huge bed draped with pink silk and white muslin curtains, all of which were decorated with frills, ribbon and bows and there were also bunches of silk roses.

  The bed cover matched them and again there were the bows, ribbons, and flowers.

  The initial ‘Y’ in the centre sparkled with diamante.

  The candelabra beside the bed were supported by gold cupids and they had diamante glittering on their heads and on their loincloths.

  The mirror on the dressing table was surmounted with cupids holding wreaths of flowers and most of the furniture in the room was of carved wood brilliantly gilded.

  Besides this there was a profusion of flowers. Some were in vases, others were in baskets on the floor.

  As she looked at them, Belinda realised that there had also been an enormous amount of flowers in the room downstairs. She had, however, been too overcome by the appearance of Madame Yvonne to notice them at first.

  Now she looked round the room, thinking that her hostess must have copied it straight from a scene at the Drury Lane Theatre.

  Lottie followed the direction of her eyes.

  “Pretty, ain’t it?” she remarked. “And a nice job I’ve got keepin’ it clean and tidy wiv gentlemen comin’ in at all hours of the night, an’ not wantin’ to move out in the mornin’!”

  For a moment Belinda wanted to question what she was saying.

  Then she blushed and said quickly,

  “Please may I wash my hands?”

  “Course you can, miss, and we’re very up to date. Like the Frenchies, it’s all out of sight.”

  She opened a door as she spoke.

  Belinda saw there was a washstand on which there was a very pretty china basin and ewer and there was also a profusion of bottles of every sort and description.

  She guessed that most of these contained perfume, others doubtless held what Madame Yvonne used on her face.

  Lottie poured out some water that was still warm from a brass can into the basin.

  Then she found a clean face flannel and Belinda took off her hat and washed her face and hands.

  It had been very dusty on the roads and without asking, Lottie brushed down her clothes as well as her hat.

  “Thank you,” Belinda said, “and would it be possible for me to have a glass of water to drink?”

  “’Course!” Lottie answered, pouring some out from an elaborate crystal jug. “And there’s coffee for you downstairs, or p’raps you’d rather ’ave champagne?”

  “Thank you,” Belinda replied, “but I would rather have coffee.”

  She went back into the bedroom and put on her hat again.

  She was thinking as she did so that she had never seen so many things on a dressing table before. There were not only more bottles of scent, but trinkets of every sort and description.

  There was also a stack of newspaper cuttings.

  She thought they must be reviews of Madame Yvonne’s performances in the theatre, but she recognised, however, that it would be a mistake to ask questions.

  Only when she had tidied herself did she say to Lottie, who was moving about the bedroom,

  “I think I had better go downstairs now. I have an appointment to keep and I must not be late.”

  “I ’opes ’e’s tall, dark, and ’andsome,” Lottie remarked cheekily.

  For a moment Belinda did not understand what she insinuated.

  Then she replied quickly,

  “It is a business appointment.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Lottie said. “We all ’as them! With looks like yours, you should be ’avin’ a bit of fun.”

  She opened the door before she added,

  “You never wants to miss a chance, miss, and they don’t always turn
up just when we wants ’em.”

  Belinda walked out into the corridor.

  “Thank you, thank you very much,” she mumbled and hurried down the stairs.

  As she did so, she realised that the carpet over them was a vivid red. It matched the curtains that covered the windows on either side of the front door.

  Madame Yvonne, she thought, certainly liked having everything as brilliant as possible. She knew her mother would have thought the house was tawdry and vulgar. She was very glad it was not here that she would have to work as a reader.

  She did not want to think about the innuendos Lottie had made.

  Jim was waiting for her by the door of the drawing room.

  “Feelin’ better now, are you, miss?” he asked. “I’ve brought your coffee as ’is Nibs said, but if you asks me, a drop of fizzy’d make you feel real better.”

  He opened the drawing room door as he spoke. As Belinda entered, she saw her stepfather move quickly away from Madame Yvonne.

  They were standing in front of the fireplace.

  She realised that he must have been kissing her and felt for a moment a sense of disgust.

  How dare her stepfather kiss a woman like this actress when he was still in mourning for her mother!

  Then she remembered how he had told her that he had tried in every way he possibly could to forget her mother, but had failed.

  She supposed, therefore, that Madame Yvonne was one of the failures.

  Yet it did not appear so at the moment.

  It was, however, with a great effort at composure that she walked across the room to where her stepfather and Madame Yvonne were standing.

  As she reached them, Madame Yvonne sat down on the sofa, saying,

  “Wow. Here she is – and looking even prettier than when she arrived. Are you sure, D’Arcy, that you tell the truth when you say she’s your stepdaughter?”

  “Now, would I lie to you?” D’Arcy Rowland asked in his most beguiling voice. “And would I be so foolish as to bring anyone here who could in any way cause you any displeasure?”

  “You’d do anything if it suited you,” Madame Yvonne replied. “But what are you going to do with this young woman now that you have brought her to London? There is no place for her at the theatre – I can tell you that!”

  “She has no wish to go on the stage,” D’Arcy replied quickly. “She has an appointment with a lady who requires a reader and Belinda is proficient in your language and many others besides.”