In the Arms of Love Read online

  He looked again at the Duchess and realised that she was gazing at him. He thought perhaps that she was suspecting him of being critical and it was something that would not augur well for their discussions tomorrow.

  He picked up his glass of champagne, which he had hardly touched. In fact he had deliberately drunk very little the whole evening.

  He had only taken a sip of it when the respectful voice of a servant came from behind his chair,

  “Her Grace’s compliments, my Lord, and she hopes you’ll join her in a toast.”

  As the man spoke, he set down on the table a glass containing what appeared to be brandy, but almost instinctively the Marquis was on his guard.

  His inner instinct had never failed him when he sensed that there was danger. It had saved his life on several occasions during the War and he knew now in a manner that he could not explain to himself that it would be a great mistake to drink the wine that the Duchess had sent for him.

  He had already suspected that some of the guests at the table were under the influence of drugs and he knew that there were places in London where they were used to stimulate elderly men and to make women more compliant.

  The Marquis thought quickly and then he raised his glass in the direction of the Duchess who, as he expected, was still looking at him.

  She too had a glass in her hand and, as if she pointed the way, she raised it to her lips.

  The Marquis made as if he would do the same. Then he smiled at his hostess and looked down at Aspasia and raised his glass to her.

  “You have very beautiful blue eyes,” he said, “and your hair has captured the sunshine.”

  He spoke in a clear voice and then beneath his breath so that only Aspasia could hear he said,

  “Drop your handkerchief on the floor!”

  She looked at him in astonishment and he said again loudly,

  “I am toasting you, Aspasia.” Then quietly, “do as I say.”

  Obediently Aspasia took the lace-edged handkerchief that was in her lap and which she had carried in her hand when she came downstairs and dropped it on the floor between herself and the Marquis.

  Because she felt that was what he expected her to do she looked down at it and even as he lifted his glass to his lips he followed the direction of her eyes and bent forward to see what had happened.

  “You have dropped your handkerchief!” he exclaimed. “Let me pick it up for you.”

  He bent below the table and so swiftly that Aspasia thought she must have been mistaken in what she saw, he tipped the wine from his glass onto the thick carpet.

  Then he sat up, Aspasia’s handkerchief in his left hand, which he gave to her.

  As he did so, he carried the now empty glass to his lips and appeared to tip its whole contents down his throat, throwing back his head to do so.

  Then he held up the empty glass in the direction of the Duchess as if he had completed his toast to her.

  She smiled her acknowledgement.

  Then, as the Marquis leaned back against his chair, wondering what effect if he had drunk the wine it would have had on him, the music of a hidden orchestra started to play.

  Servants lifted the candelabra from the table and snuffed out the candles and for a moment the whole dining room was in darkness.

  There were cries of surprise from the guests before a second later at the far end of the room two red velvet curtains were thrown back.

  Now there was light again, but it came from footlights concealed by flowers that illuminated a small stage raised almost to the level of the guests’ eyes, profusely decorated with flowers it had a human tableau in the centre of it.

  One glance told the Marquis exactly what to expect and he recognised a posture from the Kama Sutra performed by two girls and a man all of them completely naked.

  There were cheers from the guests watching and those who were capable of it clapped their hands in appreciation.

  The Marquis thought, as after a few seconds of immobility the performers began to move, that once again Charlie had been right and what they were going to watch would doubtless make him feel, if not sick, then certainly disgusted.

  He had always hated obscenity of any sort, just as he disliked dirty jokes, which he did not consider witty and he thought that as the whole evening had been leading up to this the finale would doubtless be an orgy that he had no intention of taking part in.

  He was just wondering what would happen if he rose from the table and walked out of the dining room when a small frightened voice beside him said,

  “They are – naked! How can – women appear – naked in such an – indecent manner?”

  As she spoke, the Marquis realised that he had forgotten Aspasia.

  Now he saw that she was not looking at the stage, but down at her hands, which were clenched together in her lap and he thought, although he could not be sure, that her face was very pale.

  “I gather that this is something you did not expect,” he remarked.

  “Expect?” she replied. “How could – anybody expect a – lady to permit people to appear – naked in her dining room?”

  She sounded so horrified that the Marquis felt that she really must be sincere and yet he could not be sure that it was not part of the Duchess’s plan to make him feel that she was a very young and innocent girl who was different from the rest of the party.

  He put his elbow on the table and turned round so that he blocked Aspasia’s view of the stage before he said,

  “Look at me, Aspasia.”

  She hesitated as if she was afraid of what she would see.

  Then, as if she must obey him, she slowly raised her eyes and looked up.

  The Marquis saw that she was indeed very pale and her eyes had a stricken look in them that he could not misunderstand it and was certainly an expression that she could not fake.

  “Please,” Aspasia said pleadingly, “please – please let me go – away! I cannot – stay here! It is – wrong and wicked and I know now that the stories I have heard were – true although I would not – believe them.”

  She spoke in a low frightened voice that was little above a whisper.

  “What will happen if you show that you are shocked by leaving the room?” the Marquis asked her.

  “I cannot – tell you,” Aspasia replied. “I promised on my – sacred word of honour that I would – stay with you and – amuse you and if it does – amuse you – then there is nothing I – can do.”

  She paused and then she closed her eyes again and said,

  “I cannot – I will not – look!”

  The Marquis turned his head in the direction of the stage.

  As he expected, the three actors had now been joined by two more and the way that they were behaving was certainly touching the depths of obscenity that exceeded anything that he had seen anywhere else in the world.

  He looked around the room and then realised that excited by the spectacle on top of the amount of drink they had consumed a couple who had been clasped passionately in each other’s arms were now moving towards the door as if they would find a more private place to continue their involvement with each other.

  He looked back again at Aspasia.

  Her eyes were still closed, but her lips were moving and he had the feeling, although he mocked at himself for thinking so, that she was praying.

  “Listen to me, Aspasia,” he said. “I can take you out of this room without anybody thinking it strange that you are running away from the entertainment that has been provided for us.”

  She gave a little cry that was almost one of delight and she half-opened her eyes as if afraid of what she would see and then opened them a little wider when she realised that her vision of the stage was still obscured by the Marquis.

  “The only way we can do this,” he went on, “is to make the Duchess think that we want to be alone together.”

  He saw that she was listening and he continued,

  “You have doubtless noticed that all the other gues
ts are behaving very intimately with one another, so I am going to put my arms around you, hold you close to me and then I will draw you to your feet so that we can move towards the door.”

  His voice sharpened as he went on,

  “Our hostess must think that I have drunk too much, so I must appear to be a little unsteady. Do you understand? It is the only way that we can leave without causing a great deal of comment.”

  “I – understand,” Aspasia said. “Please – please let’s go away – at once!”

  “Very well,” the Marquis murmured.

  He reached out as he spoke and drew her against him so it appeared as if he was kissing first her hair and then her forehead.

  As he did so, he felt her tremble. She hid her face against his shoulder and because she was very frightened one hand clutched at the lapel of his evening coat.

  For some seconds he just held her, hoping that their embrace was being noticed by the Duchess.

  Then he pushed back his chair and said in a voice that could be overheard by the servants,

  “Let’sh get out of here and go sh-omewhere more comfortable.”

  He deliberately slurred his words and then walking with the careful deliberate gait of a man who is not quite sure that his feet will obey him, the Marquis moved slowly, holding Aspasia tightly against him, towards the door.

  To reach it they had to pass either behind the Duchess’s chair at one end of the room or in front of the stage.

  As they did so, the Marquis could not help noticing what was taking place behind the footlights and he thought that it would be hard to make even Charlie believe that such filth could be portrayed in England and in a house that belonged to a family who had played their part in the history of the country.

  They reached the door and stepped out into the corridor and the Marquis knew as he did so that Aspasia would have moved away from him.

  But he said quietly,

  “There are still the servants watching us, and I suggest you stay close to me until we can be sure that nobody will report to our hostess anything we do.”

  “Y-yes – of course,” Aspasia replied.

  She clung to him and he kept his arm around her until they came to the end of the passage, and reached the hall.

  They climbed the wide staircase slowly and, when they reached the top, Aspasia felt that at last she had escaped from the horrors of the dining room.

  She was just about to say so when, as the Marquis turned down the passage, she saw in the shadows of a doorway watching them was Mrs. Fielding.

  She felt her heart give a sudden leap of fear and having raised her head from the Marquis’s shoulder she hesitatingly put it back as they walked for what seemed to her to be a long way down the corridor before they stopped at a door.

  The Marquis opened it and only when they had entered and he closed it behind them did Aspasia feel him straighten himself to his full height.

  “Thank God we are away from that muck hole!” he said in his ordinary voice. “How in God’s name did you get mixed up in anything like this?”

  Aspasia did not answer and he realised that she was staring not at him but at the big four-poster in the centre of the room.

  It was a very magnificent bed draped with red silk curtains and above the pillows there was emblazoned the Grimstone Coat of Arms.

  The lights in the room came only from two candelabra one on either side of the bed, but there was enough light to see the painted ceiling, the windows with their carved and gilt pelmets and that the furniture was spectacular.

  “I have been comfortably housed, as you can see,” the Marquis commented.

  Aspasia turned to look at him.

  “B-but it is – your bedroom.” she said in a low tone.

  “That is obvious.”

  “But – where am I to sleep?”

  He looked to see if what she was saying was true and then replied,

  “I should have thought that was obvious too.”

  For a moment Aspasia was very still. Then she gave a little cry that was one of sheer horror and ran towards the door.

  She turned the handle and then, as she would have pulled it towards her, she remembered Mrs. Fielding.

  She would still be there watching to make certain that she kept her sacred word of honour and did everything the Marquis asked of her.

  She left the door, sped across to the nearest window and, pulling aside the curtains, looked out.

  The casement was open and the moonlight illuminating the garden outside made it easy for Aspasia to see at a glance that, although the bedroom was on the first floor, it was in a part of the house where the rooms were high up and so there was a long drop to the ground.

  She stood, however, looking down wondering frantically what she should do until she heard the Marquis say behind her,

  “Perhaps you had better tell me what all this commotion is about.”

  He spoke in a dry commanding voice and because it was so impersonal it was somehow reassuring and took away a little of Aspasia’s fear.

  She turned back to the room and stood still, her hands clasped together.

  “P-please – try to understand,” she said, “when I promised I would – do what you wanted – I had no idea, it never – occurred to me – that the Duchess or Mrs. Fielding could – mean anything like – this.”

  She was trembling as she said the last word and she looked the same way, the Marquis thought, as she had looked at the naked performers on the stage.

  He did not speak and she went on,

  “I did not know – what you would – ask me to do – but it is wrong – and wicked for two people to – sleep in the same bed – if they are not – married!”

  The Marquis, who had been standing ever since they had come into the bedroom, walked to the bed and sat down on the side of the mattress. He looked elegant and very masculine silhouetted against the Grimstone Coat of Arms.

  But, because he was on the bed, Aspasia trembled and she felt as if her lips were dry and that anything more she might have been about to say was already strangled in her throat.

  She knew that the Marquis was watching her and for the moment she thought that he was like an animal who might spring on her and she would not be able to escape him.

  Then he said again in his dry quiet voice,

  “I think, Aspasia, you have a good deal of explaining to do and I suggest that you sit down in a chair and try to stop being so frightened.”

  “But – I am frightened and – perhaps I shall not be able to make you – understand.”

  “I promise that I will try to do so and the easiest way is for you to tell me the truth.”

  “They – told me I was not – to do that.”

  “By ‘they’ I presume you mean the Duchess and the woman we saw watching us as we came down the corridor.”

  “Yes – that is – Mrs. Fielding.”

  “Well, she is not likely to know what is happening inside this room,” the Marquis pointed out, “so we can talk here without being concerned that we might be overhead.”

  “Are you – certain of – that?”

  “Yes!”

  The Marquis felt that the positive way he spoke convinced Aspasia and, as if she had remembered that he had told her to sit down, she moved towards an armchair beside the fireplace.

  He was aware that it was as far away from him as it was possible for her to be.

  Only after she had seated herself did he rise from the bed to take the chair opposite her.

  He thought she glanced at him as he did so as if she was terrified and he then said,

  “It will be easier if we are nearer to each other, so that there is no need for us to raise our voices.”

  “Yes – of course.”

  There was silence and after a moment the Marquis spoke,

  “You had better start at the very beginning. Who are you and what is your real name?”

  “I am Aspasia Stanton!”

  “You were christened ‘As
pasia’?” he questioned. “It seems rather a strange name for an English girl.”

  “It was chosen by my uncle who is a Greek scholar and it means ‘welcome’.”

  The Marquis was surprised that she should have known that and he continued,

  “And you live in London?”

  “No, I live here with my uncle, who is the Vicar of Little Medlock.”

  “The Vicar? And he allowed you to come to a house like this?”

  “He – does not know I am – here.”

  “Then what was the reason, was it curiosity? Or was it because you needed the money?”

  He saw the surprise in Aspasia’s eyes before she replied,

  “It was – nothing like that. It was something that – happened at breakfast – this morning.”

  “What was that?”

  “There was a letter for Uncle Theophilus and as he was busy he told me to open it.”

  Slowly, prompted by questions from the Marquis, Aspasia related what the letter contained and how, after her uncle had gone with Martha to bury her sister, she had decided she would come to Grimstone to beg the Duchess to change her mind and let him stay on in the Parish,

  The only thing she was careful not to mention was that she had a brother and that it was Jerry who had ridden with her as far as he dared before he had returned home.

  She told the Marquis how she had pleaded with the Duchess who had told her that she intended to have only young people about her because old age was infectious.

  Then because someone was ill, Aspasia was not certain who, the Duchess had said that if she took her place and stayed the night and did exactly what she was told without fuss or complaint her uncle could keep his Living.

  “Of course I – agreed,” she said. “It seemed so – wonderful that I was able to – save Uncle Theophilus and he would not have to find somewhere else to – live.”

  “But you did not expect a dinner party like the one you have just attended?” the Marquis asked.

  “How could I think – people would – behave in such a disgusting – manner?” Aspasia asked in a low shocked voice. “The gentlemen had – drunk too much, and so had – some of the women.”

  “Did you meet any of them before dinner?”