Love and the Cheetah Page 5

  The Vicar led the way back to the study where he had been a few minutes before with Ilesa.

  Hanging on one wall, so that it captured the light from the window to show it at its best, was a picture.

  Ilesa, of course, knew that it was surely the most controversial and unusual of Stubbs’s masterpieces.

  As soon as the Duke looked at it, he gave what was almost a cry of delight.

  “You have the portrait of John Musters!” he exclaimed. “I have always wanted to see it.”

  “I really thought that it would interest you,” the Vicar smiled.

  Ilesa knew its story, which she had heard a hundred times from the moment her father had acquired the picture.

  John Musters had been painted by Stubbs with his wife Sophia sitting on the horse and himself standing at its head.

  Unfortunately a very unhappy relationship developed between them and he believed that his wife had been unfaithful to him.

  He then insisted on Sophia being painted out of the picture and replaced by the Reverend Philip Story.

  Stubbs had done what he intended to do by obliterating Sophia’s figure and substituting Vicar Story, but he had omitted to convert the sidesaddle that Sophia had been seated on into one appropriate to a man.

  The Vicar made sure that the Duke realised this and said laughingly,

  “Of course it is a sensible thing for me to have a picture of the Vicar, although I cannot rival his achievement of having fourteen children!”

  The Duke laughed.

  “I should hope not! But he evidently shared John Muster’s passion for hunting. Muster had a famous pack of hounds by all accounts.”

  “We have said everything that can be said about this picture,” the Vicar suggested. “Now do come and look at the other one.”

  The second picture that the Vicar had inherited from his father was on another wall.

  It portrayed a number of individual hounds arranged across the picture as if they were posed for a judge’s eye of dog, bitch, dog, bitch, dog.

  The Duke stood gazing at it for some time.

  “This is the only known work, Vicar,” he said, “in which Stubbs arranged hounds in such a manner. You are extremely lucky indeed to have it and naturally I am very envious.”

  “I am quite sure that there is no need for Your Grace to be,” the Vicar said, “when you yourself own so many superb examples of Stubbs’s work.”

  “Which, of course, you must come and see,” the Duke said. “When can you come to stay with me at Heron Court and tell me what I don’t know about my own pictures?”

  The Vicar chuckled.

  “I should have to be very clever to do so, but, of course, it would give me great pleasure to see not only your Stubbs’s but also your outstanding racehorses.”

  The Duke hesitated for a moment.

  And then he suggested,

  “I was on my way home today, but if you could be good enough to offer me a bed for the night, we could all go to Heron Court tomorrow.”

  The Vicar looked surprised.

  Then before he could speak, Doreen exclaimed,

  “That is a wonderful idea! I would really love Papa to see Heron Court, which is the most beautiful house I have ever known.”

  The way she spoke made it very clear that she appreciated its owner as well.

  Then, as she realised that the Duke was looking at Ilesa, she said quickly,

  “I am sure it would be difficult, however, for my sister to come. She has so many duties here in the village.”

  “The duties of both of us as far as that is concerned,” the Vicar then chimed in, “will be finished after Matins tomorrow morning. I have no Sunday Evening Service this week.”

  This was most certainly true. The village was so depleted since the Big House had been closed that it was possible for the villagers who were left to make up only one congregation on a Sunday.

  The Vicar had therefore for the time being discontinued Evensong and only with Ilesa he read the Service in the privacy of his own study.

  “In which case,” the Duke said, “it will give me great pleasure to invite you and both your daughters to Heron Court.”

  If he was to stay the night, it meant that he would also be present for dinner.

  Ilesa slipped away to tell Mrs. Briggs that they had an extra guest for dinner as well as Doreen.

  Mrs. Briggs held up her hands in horror.

  At the same time Ilesa knew that she was really delighted to have the opportunity of cooking for a Duke and she would be determined to do her very best.

  Briggs was resting his bad legs on a stool.

  “I think,” Ilesa said to him, “we have a bottle of claret that his Lordship gave Papa before he went to India.”

  “That be right, Miss Ilesa,” Briggs nodded, “and there be some white wine ’is Lordship brings down from The Hall, not as much as we’d like, but enough for ’Is Grace.”

  “I know I can leave it to you, Briggs,” Ilesa said.

  As she left the kitchen, she was well aware that her sister had no wish for her to go and stay at Heron Court.

  She had seen the expression on Doreen’s face when the Duke had invited them all.

  It seemed just ridiculous to her that a woman as beautiful as Doreen should be jealous of anyone especially her sister.

  ‘I must be very careful,’ she told herself. ‘Anyway, why should he even notice me when Doreen is looking so entrancing?’

  At the same time she recognised that she herself was vividly aware of the Duke and she supposed that it was because he was so different from any man who she had ever met before.

  When she had shaken hands with him earlier, she had been aware of a strange vibration that coursed through her body like some electric current.

  It was a sensation that she had never felt before in her life.

  ‘He has a strong personality,’ she told herself, ‘and that is what so many people lack.’

  But she could not explain to herself exactly what she meant by this observation.

  When she went back to the drawing room, she found herself listening to the intonations of the Duke’s voice.

  She found it hard not to watch him as he talked to her father.

  She did not stay long, but went upstairs to find Nanny and tell her that they had two extra visitors.

  Nanny had been out the whole day visiting a woman friend of hers who was ill.

  She had taken with her some of the special herbal medicine that Ilesa’s mother had made for people in the village to cure all ailments.

  When Ilesa went up the stairs to her room, she found Nanny taking off her bonnet.

  “What’s all this I hears, Miss Ilesa?” she asked. “Her Ladyship’s arrived unexpectedly and now the Duke of Mountheron. I can hardly believe it!”

  “It’s true, Nanny,” Ilesa said. “Doreen came home just before luncheon, but she is very insistent that we should pretend that she arrived two days ago.”

  Nanny looked puzzled.

  “Why should she do that, I’d like to know?” she enquired sharply.

  “Because, Nanny, she wants to marry the Duke, but she does not want him to think that she is running after him.”

  “Which I suppose she is!” Nanny finished. “And that doesn’t surprise me at all.”

  “Oh, please, Nanny, be very careful because otherwise Doreen will be furious with us and it’s very nice to have her back at home after so long.”

  “I suppose she’s given you that dress you’re wearing,” Nanny said. “You certainly looks smart for a change!”

  “She has lent it to me!” Ilesa corrected Nanny, “and what do you think, Papa and I are driving with the Duke tomorrow to stay at his country house so that we can see his famous collection of Stubbs’s pictures!”

  Nanny stared at her for a long moment.

  Then she said,

  “Well, that’s good news for a change, I must say! It’s time you got away from the village and saw a bit of life. Fr
om all I’ve heard, Heron Court’s the right place for seein’ a bit of grandeur.”

  “That is what I hope to see,” Ilesa laughed. “But, Nanny, I have absolutely nothing to wear as you well know.”

  “We’ll just have to find you somethin’, dearie,” Nanny said confidently, “and it’s a step in the right direction if her Ladyship’s givin’ you some of her clothes. She’s not given you so much as a cotton handkerchief these last few years!”

  Nanny spoke tartly.

  Ilesa knew that she had never really forgiven Doreen for not attending her stepmother’s funeral.

  It had caused a great deal of comment in the village and Nanny had expressed her views forcibly on a number of occasions.

  Doreen, being beautiful and rich, was written up in every newspaper and yet she had never made any attempt to help her father in all that he was trying to do for the villagers.

  It was an issue that Ilesa had no wish to comment on at the moment. So quickly she left Nanny’s bedroom and went into her own.

  She knew that the first problem before they went to Heron Court was to find something to wear for dinner this evening.

  She reckoned that Doreen would be very critical and she could hardly appear downstairs in the same gown that she was wearing now.

  She looked in her wardrobe and gave a deep sigh.

  She had been busy helping her father these last two years when he had been so unhappy and she had not really had any time to think about herself or her appearance.

  She heard Nanny going into one of the guestrooms to make up a bed for Doreen and she would then do the same for the Duke. And Ilesa went to help her.

  Fortunately, because Nanny was so meticulous, the rooms were clean and dusted.

  Ilesa took two vases from her own room. She put one in the room that Doreen was to occupy and the other in the Duke’s.

  “I expect that his groom will valet him, Nanny,” she said. “Poor old Briggs will never manage to do that as well as laying the table and giving the silver an extra polish.”

  “I’ll see to that,” Nanny said. “Just you go and make yourself look pretty and I’ll do your hair before you goes downstairs.”

  “Thank you, Nanny,” Ilesa answered. “Doreen has already been more than critical of my appearance and I cannot imagine what I am going to wear this evening.”

  “There be a gown in your mother’s wardrobe as will fit you perfectly,” Nanny pointed out.

  Ilesa was still.

  “You don’t think Papa would mind my wearing Mama’s clothes?”

  “I doubt he’ll even notice,” Nanny assured her. “Men are not very perceptive when it comes to women’s clothes and the gown I be thinkin’ of be a very simple one.”

  The Vicar had refused to have anything of his wife’s removed from the room they had both used. Ilesa knew that her mother’s gowns were all still hanging in the wardrobe just as they had always done.

  She felt strongly that she was somehow intruding on something very sacred.

  Then she knew that her mother, of all people, would want her to look her best if it helped Doreen.

  It would certainly seem rather strange if, while she was so smart, her sister looked like a ragbag.

  Anyway there was no time to argue.

  By the time Nanny had finished the rooms, Ilesa could hear her father bringing the Duke upstairs to change for dinner.

  She hurried into her own room and a few seconds later Nanny came in and joined her.

  She was carrying a very pretty gown that her mother had often worn when she and her husband went out to a dinner party.

  It was a very pale mauve and on Ilesa it made her look like a Parma violet.

  Nanny had then arranged her hair skilfully in the same way that Doreen wore hers.

  When Ilesa looked at herself in the mirror, she smiled.

  “I see a strange young woman, Nanny, whom I have never met before!”

  “You’ll do your father ever so proud,” Nanny said. “I’m not sayin’ more than that.”

  Ilesa kissed the old woman on the cheek and walked towards the door.

  “You had better go and see if you can help Doreen, Nanny,” she suggested. “I am sure that she is used to a lady’s maid and half-a-dozen other people to help her dress.”

  “It’s a pity she doesn’t help other people herself,” Nanny answered.

  Ilesa smiled.

  There was no use arguing with Nanny, who always liked to have the last word and she was quite certain that she would say the same thing to Doreen.

  Ilesa hurried down the stairs and was tidying up the drawing room when the Duke came in.

  If he looked very impressive in his day clothes, he was overpowering in evening dress.

  For a moment Ilesa just stood staring at him.

  And then she was aware that he was looking at her in the same way.

  Quickly, because she felt that it was embarrassing to remain silent, she said,

  “I hope Your Grace has found everything you want? We don’t often have people to stay and Papa would be very upset if you were uncomfortable in any way.”

  “I have everything I could possibly want,” the Duke said, “and you cannot imagine how exciting it was for me to see two pictures by Stubbs that I had always heard of but had never seen before.”

  “They are Papa’s joy and delight,” Ilesa told him. “My grandfather had some very fine pictures by other famous artists, but, of course, they now belong to my Uncle Robert.”

  “I have met your uncle several times,” the Duke said. “I am sure that he will be a great success in India, but I understand that closing the house has presented many problems in the village.”

  Ilesa sighed.

  “It has been terrible for Papa. Most of the people in the village worked at The Hall and they had no idea of how to find employment elsewhere. Papa has done his best to help them, but it has not been in any way easy.”

  “I heard this from my hosts last night.”

  “The Marquis has been very kind in taking on one of the gamekeepers. He is such a nice man with a wife and five children. He could not possibly support them on the small pension which was all that Papa could give him.”

  “Surely your uncle should have paid them?” the Duke asked.

  “He did pension off a lot of the old people, but it was impossible for him to do the same for everybody. I understand from what I have heard that it is indeed very expensive being the Governor of an Indian Province.”

  “That is true,” the Duke agreed, “but it was hardly right to leave all the difficulties that have ensued to your father.”

  He paused before he added,

  “And to you. I hear you are doing a great deal as well.”

  “It is only what Mama would have done if she was still alive,” Ilesa said. “And thank you, thank you very much, for asking Papa to stay at your house. It will be so good for him to get away and forget for a while all the troubles that his parishioners bring him every day however small.”

  She spoke in a way that showed how much they meant to her.

  The Duke was thinking how extraordinary it was that anyone so young and so beautiful should be concerned about the village people.

  At the same time as he had already realised, being so supremely unselfconscious about herself.

  He was used to women who flirted with him with every word they spoke, with every movement of their lips and every glance in his direction.

  Ilesa spoke unaffectedly and the Duke knew that she was thinking of her father and not of herself when she talked of going to stay at Heron Court.

  The Vicar joined them and Ilesa informed him,

  “I forgot to tell you, Papa, Mr. Craig’s arm is much better. He told me to tell you that it was all due to Mama’s herbs, which he said were ‘like a gift from Heaven itself’.”

  The Vicar smiled.

  “That is exceedingly good news. I was afraid that he might have to lose his hand.”

  “I saw it
this morning before I arranged the flowers in the Church,” Ilesa said, “and it is healing perfectly.”

  “Who is Mr. Craig?” the Duke asked.

  “He is the butcher,” Ilesa replied. “He was cutting up some meat when his knife slipped and he sustained the most frightful wound just above his wrist. He lost so much blood that we were afraid that he would have to lose his hand.”

  “And the herbs that you treated him with saved it?” the Duke enquired as if he was trying to follow the story with interest.

  “They are a special concoction that Mama always used for emergencies like this. It is very difficult to persuade a doctor to come here. Sometimes they refuse to come because there is no chance of their being paid.”

  “So you have taken their place,” the Duke observed.

  “I am not nearly as good as Mama was, but I am very excited that I have done the right thing where Mr. Craig is concerned.”

  The Duke was about to ask her more questions when the door opened and Doreen came into the room.

  She was certainly looking fantastic in a gown that must have cost more than the Vicar’s annual stipend.

  As she glided towards the Duke, she glittered in the light of the setting sun.

  Ilesa knew that she would look really marvellous in the candlelight on the dining room table.

  The Duke was watching her curiously and, she thought appreciatively.

  ‘I am sure that he will ask her to marry him,’ Ilesa thought. ‘Then Doreen will really be happy.’

  As the thought came to her, she remembered the other man, the man who had loved her for some time.

  The man about whom Sir Mortimer Jackson intended to make trouble for her.

  ‘Can Doreen really love two men at the same time?’ Ilesa wondered again.

  Then, as she saw her sister gaze at the Duke in a very flirtatious manner, she reminded herself that she was very young and inexperienced.

  There was no point in trying to understand what was going on.

  It was not her world and the world that she lived in and the kind of difficulties that faced her were very different.

  They concerned ordinary people whose problem was, quite simply, how to keep alive and survive a multitude of hardships.

  ‘That is what really matters,’ she told herself, ‘and, if Doreen becomes a Duchess, it is very unlikely that we shall ever see her again.’