Saved By A Saint Page 5

  Even when they had to camp out without shelter on a windy Portuguese mountain, Yates’s good humour had never failed him and the Marquis allowed him liberties he would not have tolerated with any other servant.

  He had the Marquis’s bath ready for him.

  In her bedroom further down the corridor, Christina was enjoying hers.

  It had been put in front of the fire and the warm water was scented by something Mrs. Dartford had put in it.

  “I remember that scent!” Christina exclaimed when her bath was ready.

  “I’ve got two bottles of it stored away,” Mrs. Dartford answered, “which I was keepin’ for a special occasion. And what could be more special than the day his Lordship comes home to us?”

  “What indeed!” Christina agreed. “I know everything is going to be exactly as it was when I first came here as a little girl.”

  “And a very pretty one you was too!” Mrs. Dartford said. “I can remember your mother, God rest her, bringing you with her when you could only just walk. And when you grew older you used to play Hide and Seek with the young housemaids.”

  “I can remember doing that,” Christina laughed.

  “It’s somethin’ perhaps your children’ll do when you have them,” Mrs. Dartford said.

  Christina looked at her and she added,

  “His Lordship’s given orders that I’m to have as many housemaids as I needs to help me in the house. That’s a real relief, as it had gone down to just me and Emily.”

  “I am sure that every young girl in the village will want to come here to The Hall,” Christina remarked.

  Mrs. Dartford smiled.

  “News of what’s bin happenin’ here has gone through the village like wildfire!” she said. “Already we’ve had four girls knockin’ on the back door beggin’ me to employ them.”

  “You must employ them all!” Christina said. “The house is so big and his Lordship wants it to look exactly as it did when his mother was alive.”

  “I knows that,” Mrs. Dartford said. “I only hopes I can put them to work before his Lordship sees the mess the Picture Gallery’s in and the rooms on the second floor haven’t seen a duster for years!”

  There was a note of elation in her voice that told Christina how exciting it was for her to be able to engage new housemaids.

  She would organise them to make the house shine as it had in the old days, as if it was a precious jewel.

  Nanny and Mrs. Dartford helped Christina into a pretty but simple evening gown.

  The mere simplicity of it was a perfect frame for her curly golden hair and the clearness of her eyes.

  Christina, however, felt like the beggar maid at the Court of King Cophetua.

  Then she told herself sensibly,

  ‘His Lordship will not be looking at what I am wearing, but listening to what I have to tell him.’

  Mrs. Dartford was regarding her critically.

  “What you wants to freshen up that gown,” she said slowly, “be a few flowers, some at the waist, and one or two at the back of your head.”

  She went from the bedroom to a vase of flowers that had been hastily arranged outside in the corridor.

  Mrs. Dartford came back into the room and pinned a white rose and some lilies-of-the-valley at Christina’s waist and attached two roses to the back of her head.

  Looking at herself in the mirror, Christina had to admit that it made quite a difference to her appearance.

  “Thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed. “You have been very kind, Mrs. Dartford.”

  Because she was eager to be with the Marquis again, she ran from the room.

  He was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase and in his evening clothes, she thought that no man could look smarter or more impressive. His cravat was tied in an intricate fashion and the points of his collar were high.

  As she walked towards him, he thought how graceful she was.

  He was wondering how she would look if he could dress her as he had dressed Letty, choosing for her the best gowns from the most expensive shops in Bond Street.

  Then he told himself that Christina was only a child.

  It would be a great mistake for her to become self-conscious in any way about her appearance.

  When she reached him and they walked into the drawing room together, he said,

  “Miss Dickson has arrived, but, as the excitement of it all has been too much for her, I suggested she went to bed. So you must in consequence dine alone with me.”

  Christina could not help thinking with a leap of her heart that she would much rather be alone with him, fond though she was of Miss Dickson.

  Aloud she said,

  “Should I run up and see if there is anything I can do for her, my Lord?”

  “I am sure my staff will look after her very well,” the Marquis replied, “and the same dinner that will be served to us will be taken upstairs to her.”

  “I hope she is not going to be ill,” Christina said. “She was not at all well last winter, but that was because her cottage is so damp.”

  The Marquis did not say anything and she went on,

  “Papa always sent his wood from our trees, but I am sure now that you are home and she is here, she will soon be as active as she used to be.”

  “She was always very active,” the Marquis replied. “I can remember her taking me on long walks when I would much rather have ridden.”

  “I expect you did that too, my Lord,” Christina suggested.

  She gave a little sigh.

  “When your father the late Marquis was alive, he used to allow me to ride the horses in his stables, but after he died Mr. Waters sold most of them.”

  “Horses must certainly go onto the list of things to be replaced,” the Marquis said. “I shall visit the sale room at the first opportunity.”

  He saw the question in Christina’s eyes and added,

  “You can ride them whenever you like.”

  Oh, thank you – thank you, my Lord,” Christina cried. “I was hoping you would say that. I love riding! And with Ben dead and empty stables, I shall have no one to pull the pony cart.”

  “As you are here you will not need that for the moment,” the Marquis remarked. “You will have to help me acquire some carriage horses, as well as those we are to ride.”

  “I believe there is a Horse Fair taking place at the beginning of next week,” Christina said.

  The Marquis was interested and they found themselves talking about horses all during the first part of the meal.

  When dinner was over, they went into the drawing room.

  The servants were no longer there and once again the Marquis was asking what needed doing.

  They had made a long list when the door opened and Johnson came in.

  He came over to the Marquis’s side to inform him,

  “There’s a gentleman here, my Lord, askin’ to see you.”

  “At this time of night?” the Marquis exclaimed.

  “I understands, my Lord, he’s bin involved in an accident, otherwise he’d have got here earlier. But he and his valet are now awaiting your instructions in the mornin’ room.”

  “Who is it, Johnson?” the Marquis enquired.

  “The gentleman says he’s a member of your family and his name be Mr. Terence Verley.”

  The Marquis considered this for a moment and then said,

  “If his name is Verley, he must be one of the family, but I don’t remember him. Well, I suppose you had better bring him in, Johnson.”

  “Very good, my Lord.”

  Johnson left the room and the Marquis turned to Christina,

  “Have you ever heard of Terence Verley?”

  “If I am not mistaken,” she replied, “he is the son of your father’s younger brother, but for some reason he was not welcome at family parties.”

  The Marquis raised his eyebrows, but before he could make any comment Johnson announced,

  “Mr. Terence Verley, my Lord.”

&nb
sp; A man came into the drawing room and Christina saw at once that he was dressed in the height of fashion.

  In fact, his cravat was almost too high and too elaborate. His coat looked too square on his shoulders and his Hessians were over-polished.

  He walked up to the Marquis with outstretched hands.

  “My dear cousin,” he cried, “let me welcome you back from the wars! It has been a long time since we met, but I am only hoping that you have not forgotten me.”

  “As you say,” the Marquis remarked, “it has been a long time.”

  “I have thought about you so often,” Terence Verley went on, “but I was sure that, somehow, with your usual good luck you would survive Napoleon’s cannon balls.”

  “I did my best,” the Marquis said, “and, as you can see, I have managed to survive unscathed.”

  “It must have been terrible, really terrible!” Terence Verley exclaimed. “But now you are back – and Monarch of all you survey!”

  He glanced around the room as he spoke.

  “It may sound rude,” the Marquis commented, “but I cannot remember you. Did you stay here as a boy?”

  “I am afraid not,” Terence Verley admitted. “Our fathers, stupid old men, quarrelled, and I was barred from the house. Anyway, why should we worry about ancient feuds?”

  “Why indeed,” the Marquis answered. “May I offer you some refreshment?”

  As if he had anticipated this was what Terence Verley would want, Johnson came in with a bottle of champagne. He was followed by a footman carrying a tray on which there were three glasses.

  “You must allow me to drink to your health and to your most successful home-coming!” Terence Verley said.

  He raised his glass of champagne that had just been poured out and proposed,

  “To a great warrior and far more important – the Head of the Melverley family!”

  “Thank you,” the Marquis said.

  He took a sip of the champagne while Terence Verley emptied his glass in a theatrical fashion and held it out to be refilled.

  Then, as he would have sat down, the Marquis asked him,

  “Do I understand that you have travelled here specially to see me, or are you staying in the neighbourhood?”

  “I am hoping you will be generous enough to accommodate me for the night,” Terence Verley replied. “I have in fact made the journey to see you on business.”

  “On business?” the Marquis queried.

  Because of the way he accentuated the words, Christina rose to her feet.

  “I think,” she said, “as it is growing late, I should go and see how Miss Dickson is and then go to bed.”

  “That is sensible of you,” the Marquis agreed, “because we will have a great deal to do tomorrow.”

  “You have done so much already,” Christina said softly, “and a great many people are going to bed tonight very happy.”

  “I hope that is true. Goodnight, Christina,” the Marquis replied.

  She dropped him a graceful curtsey.

  “Goodnight, my Lord, and thank you for all your kindness.”

  She went towards Terence Verley, who was staring at her.

  “We have not been introduced,” he said, “but may I tell you that you are very beautiful! You shine in this room like a star in the sable of the night sky!”

  It sounded poetical, but at the same time Christina felt a little embarrassed.

  There was something in his expression that she did not like and she had the feeling that whatever business he might wish to do with the Marquis, it would be only to his personal advantage.

  Terence Verley held out his hand, but she pretended not to have seen it.

  “Goodnight, sir,” she said and then hurried to the door.

  The Marquis opened it for her.

  “Thank you – again,” she said softly so that only he could hear.

  Next she was hurrying across the hall and up the staircase.

  The Marquis closed the door of the drawing room.

  As he walked back, he noticed that Terence Verley was helping himself to a third glass of champagne.

  “Now we are alone,” the Marquis said, “I think you had better tell me exactly why you are here and what your business is.”

  “That is quite easy,” Terence Verley replied. “I am, now that my father is dead, your Heir Presumptive, and what I want, my dear cousin, is money! In fact, to put it bluntly, I need all of ten thousand pounds!”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  There was a pregnant silence.

  Then the Marquis asked him,

  “Is this a joke?”

  “On the contrary,” Terence Verley replied, “I am very serious. It is a case of either going to a debtors’ prison, which would create a family scandal, or you help me.”

  Very quietly the Marquis quizzed him,

  “I think you had better explain first how you can be my Heir Presumptive.”

  “It’s not difficult,” Terence Verley answered, “but you might not like what you hear.”

  He helped himself to yet another glass of champagne and then he sat down in a comfortable armchair, apparently at his ease.

  The Marquis stood in front of the fireplace waiting.

  “My father,” Terence Verley said finally, “was the third son of the second Marquis. He was apparently a dashing young man, which does not surprise me, but there was practically no money and he had to make his own way in the world.”

  “What did he do?” the Marquis enquired.

  “He enjoyed himself in London until his debts became so large that no one would give him credit. He then married a rich heiress.”

  “That sounds a sensible thing to have done,” the Marquis said. “And I suppose that she then paid off his debts.”

  “She paid them willingly because he was a Verley or rather her father did!”

  There was a mocking twist to Terence Verley’s lips as he added,

  “One could hardly expect the family to approve, but her father was an extremely skilful ship owner who made a fortune out of carrying slaves from Africa to the South of America to work in the cotton fields.”

  The Marquis stiffened.

  He could think of nothing more revolting than the trafficking of slaves and he could understand all too well that the family would be horrified at such a trade.

  “As you can imagine,” Terence Verley went on, “my father was kicked out of the family and I understand that my grandfather’s name was never mentioned again.”

  “I can appreciate that they would be upset by your father’s marriage,” the Marquis said.

  “I was brought up in luxury, but, of course, without the approval or support of the blue-blooded Verleys,” Terence continued. “My father lived to a great age. In fact he died only two months ago at the age of ninety-five.”

  “Certainly an unusually long life,” the Marquis remarked.

  “Unfortunately, having survived his father-in-law by twenty-five years, the money he enjoyed through his marriage had come to an end. That is why I am now in debt, just as he was.”

  Terence Verley spread out his hands dramatically as he said,

  “I am therefore turning to the only person who can help me, and that, of course, is you.”

  “And you really think that I should support you?” the Marquis asked.

  “Why not?” Terence enquired. “Now that my father is dead I am your Heir Presumptive and I just cannot imagine that you would want to see the future Marquis of Melverley behind bars.”

  “How old are you?” the Marquis asked unexpectedly.

  “I am thirty-two,” Terence replied.

  “You realise, of course, that there is every chance of my having a son, maybe even two or three, before I die?”

  “I have taken that into account. At the same time, I consider it your duty to prevent me from going to prison and to make sure, as a member of the family, that I don’t starve to death in the future.”

  The Marquis, who was a very good judge o
f men, realised that Terence Verley was putting on an extremely good act.

  Equally he was aware that the man who was making this extraordinary proposition to him was decidedly nervous.

  The Marquis was thinking quickly, as he himself appeared to be completely unmoved by his cousin’s dramatics.

  He merely seemed to be considering what he had said, carefully and conscientiously.

  “How did you get here?” he asked after a long pause.

  “I came in a post chaise from London which, incidentally, I cannot pay,” Terence answered.

  “I will see to that,” the Marquis said, “and I think, as you have had a long journey and I have had a very busy day, we should go to bed and continue this conversation tomorrow morning.”

  “I would prefer to have your answer at once,” Terence replied.

  “Even if I wished to do so, it would be difficult without consulting the family Solicitors and, of course, examining the debts in detail so that they can be paid not by you, but by those who administer the family fortune on my behalf.”

  Terence laughed.

  “You are afraid that I might abscond with the money and leave you with the debts. All right, Cousin Mervyn, I concede a point there. At the same time, you must be aware of the consequences if you throw me to the wolves.”

  He drank down his glass of champagne and rose to his feet.

  “I beg you to think of the family,” he said, “and how the name of Verley has been respected and admired all down the centuries.”

  The Marquis made no reply and Terence laughed, but the sound had no humour in it.

  “All right,” he admitted, “so I am the ‘black sheep’ of the family and every family has one! But I cannot believe that ten thousand pounds is too large an amount for one of the heroes of Waterloo to find.”

  There was no doubt of the sneer in his voice as he spoke.

  “You did not join the Army during the war?” the Marquis enquired.

  “Good Heavens, no!” Terence replied. “I have no wish to go around shooting Frenchies. They have never done me any harm. In fact I find their food and their women extremely attractive!”

  The Marquis realised that he was being deliberately provocative.

  Walking towards the door, he said,

  “I think that we should both sleep on this problem.”