A Shaft of Sunlight Page 7

  She had put her hand on his and he thought it would be impossible to feel so intensely without dying of the wonder of it.

  When he reached his room he had pulled off his evening-coat and settled down to write a poem to Claribel.

  He thought he would tell the servants to see that it was put on her breakfast tray tomorrow morning and he could imagine how lovely she would look as she read it.

  He found it however a little harder than he had expected and he had written only two lines to his satisfaction when the door opened and he saw to his surprise the Duke.

  He put down the quill pen, wondering as he did so what his Guardian could have to say to him.

  He was surprised when the Duke shut the door very quietly behind him and crossed the room to say in a lowered voice,

  “I want you to come with me, Lucien, I have something to show you.”

  “At this time of the night?”

  “I know it is late, but it is important.”

  “Of course I will do what you want,” Lucien said, “but I cannot imagine – ”

  “Let us hurry,” the Duke said, “and I want you to promise me that from the moment we leave this room you will not speak a word.”

  “But why?”

  “Just give me your promise.”

  “Of course, if you want me to, but I would like to understand – ”

  “There is no time for explanations,” the Duke said quickly. “Come with me and whatever happens, whatever occurs, I hold you to your promise that you will say and do nothing.”

  The Viscount smiled.

  “This is all very ‘cloak and dagger’!”

  All the same he was beginning to be intrigued. He put on his evening-coat again as he spoke and the Duke opened the door and led the way down the corridor.

  Once again he traversed the staircase, the corridors and they went out through the door he had left standing open.

  Only when Lucien had followed him behind the rhododendron bushes did the Duke become aware that the moon was now high in the sky directly overhead and the Barn was as brilliantly illuminated as it would be by daylight.

  The Viscount was looking about him in sheer astonishment.

  He could not see why his Guardian had brought him here in the middle of the night, for no apparent reason, and he wondered if in fact the Duke had been over-imbibing at dinner.

  Then he told himself that was extremely unlikely and there must be a good reason, but what it could be he had not the slightest idea.

  In the meantime, as he was obviously supposed to wait, he might as well finish his poem in his head, which would enable him to write it down as soon as he was permitted to return to his own room.

  Sometime later he had added three more lines to those he had already composed and was feeling rather stiff from standing for so long.

  Then he was suddenly aware that the Duke stiffened.

  He looked at him, then followed the direction of his eyes, and froze into immobility.

  Coming from the direction of the barn, which was almost directly opposite him, two people appeared.

  It was Claribel’s deep blue cloak that Lucien noticed first, for it was one he had helped her into earlier in the evening when they had walked in the garden and she had said she was feeling the cold.

  He had placed it lingeringly over her shoulders and she had thanked him in a way which made him long frantically to kiss her, but he realised there were too many people about.

  Now he could see her talking to some man he did not recognise and was sure it was nobody from the house party.

  Claribel took a step forward and Lucien could see now to his surprise that the man was wearing riding clothes.

  Then as he could only wonder why Claribel was there and what she was doing, she turned back to the man and put her arms around his neck.

  He pulled her roughly to him. Then he was kissing her, a long passionate kiss that made the Viscount feel as if a red-hot poker was searing his forehead.

  As he realised fully what was happening he would have rushed forward, but the Duke anticipating this action took his wrist in a grip of iron.

  As he did so Lucien remembered that he had given his word that whatever happened not to speak or move.

  He thought afterwards it might have been for a few minutes or a few hours that he watched the woman he loved locked in another man’s arms.

  Then they separated and Claribel turned and ran swiftly back along the side of the fuchsia bushes in the shadow of the chestnut trees and disappeared.

  Jack Huntsman yawned before he walked not into the Barn but towards the stables.

  Only when he was out of sight did the Duke relinquish his hold on his Ward’s wrist and lead the way back into the house.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Neither the Duke nor the Viscount spoke until they had reached the latter’s bedroom.

  Then Lucien stalked in to say, “I am leaving!”

  His voice was raw and the Duke was aware how much he was suffering.

  “I think that would be a mistake,” he said quietly.

  “If you think I am going to stay here and meet that woman again you are much mistaken! She lied to me, she pretended, and all the time – ”

  Words failed the Viscount and he clenched his fingers together in an effort at self-control, but his voice broke on the last word.

  “What would be a mistake,” the Duke said, “is for them to have the slightest idea of your feelings, or what you have discovered.”

  “I want to confront them with it!” the Viscount muttered between gritted teeth.

  “I am sure you do, and it is what I would like to do myself,” the Duke said. “But you will have your revenge, that I can assure you, though not yet!”

  He realised the Viscount was hardly attending to him and after a moment he went on,

  “What I suggest we do is leave with dignity, without either Sir Jarvis or his daughter having any idea of what we have discovered, and I would be obliged if you would drive my Phaeton to London.”

  For a moment what the Duke had said hardly percolated the Viscount’s dazed mind. Then he asked in an almost incredulous tone,

  “Did you say – drive your Phaeton?”

  “That is what I asked you to do.”

  “But you never allow anybody to drive your horses!”

  “On this occasion it is important that you should do so. I have sent for my D’Orsay Curricle as I have a call to make in another part of the country before I return to London.”

  The only thing that could have soothed the Viscount’s feelings at this particular moment was the prospect of driving the Duke’s outstanding team of chestnuts, which were the envy of every owner of horseflesh.

  It was also well known that he allowed nobody other than himself to drive either them or a number of other horses in his possession, which he looked on as being particularly outstanding.

  Realising he had captured his Ward’s attention the Duke went on,

  “We depart at eight-thirty and Hibbert will call you at seven o’clock. We will leave our host believing that the visit has been a success, and only when you do not communicate with his daughter will he begin to worry, and so will she, as to what has occurred.”

  As if he thought this would certainly perturb Claribel, the Viscount’s eyes sharpened and the Duke was aware he was now thirsting for revenge.

  “Let me assure you,” he said, “that I have a debt almost as great as yours to settle with Sir Jarvis, and I am just waiting for details which will confound and, I hope, destroy him!”

  “Do you really mean that?”

  “I am not speaking lightly.”

  “Then tell me what you intend to do.”

  “All in good time,” the Duke replied, “and when you do hear it you will realise, although you must find it difficult at the moment, that you have had a lucky escape.”

  He did not say any more.

  He only opened the door, nodded to his Ward and left him to what he knew wo
uld be the misery and despair of any young man who was in love and realises he has been betrayed.

  Then when he reached his own bedroom the Duke was thinking of Giona and hoping with a fervency that surprised him that nothing would prevent her from reaching the wood where he was to meet her the next morning.

  *

  Driving across country in a D’Orsay Curricle that travelled faster than any other vehicle the Duke possessed, and which his most reliable pair of perfectly matched black stallions drew, he thought that everything had gone more smoothly than he had dared anticipate.

  When he and Lucien had breakfasted downstairs at eight o’clock there had been nobody to keep them company and only when they had left the breakfast room and were proceeding across the hall did Sir Jarvis come hurrying down the staircase.

  “I had no idea,” he exclaimed before he had reached the last step, “that you were leaving so early! I cannot imagine why I was not informed.”

  “I understood you were aware,” the Duke answered, “that I have to reach London as early as possible. You know as well as I do that His Royal Highness dislikes being kept waiting.”

  There was nothing Sir Jarvis could say to this and he turned to the Viscount,

  “Why must you go to Frome?” he asked. “I know that Claribel was expecting you to stay for luncheon.”

  The Duke was aware that his Ward had stiffened as Sir Jarvis spoke to him, and being afraid of what he might say he interposed,

  “Lucien is obliging me by driving my Phaeton,” he said. “Another reason why I have to leave so early is that I have to call on my way on an elderly relative who is in ill health. It is a bore, but a duty which cannot be avoided.”

  “I quite understand,” Sir Jarvis said in a voice, which showed he did nothing of the sort.

  He was in fact looking at both his guests with an expression that told the Duke very clearly that he was perturbed at their precipitate departure.

  What was more disturbing, the Viscount had not formally asked him for his daughter’s hand in marriage.

  “A most enjoyable visit!” the Duke said, as he moved towards the front door. “Once again, I must congratulate you both on your house and the beauties of your garden.”

  Sir Jarvis did not answer because he was walking behind the Duke, beside Lucien.

  “Claribel will be disappointed that you are returning to London so soon,” he said, “but I hope you will be able to dine with us tomorrow. We shall look forward to seeing you.”

  The Viscount was about to refuse when the Duke turned his head slightly and he changed what he was about to say.

  “You are very kind.”

  Then before Sir Jarvis could say any more he swung himself up into the Duke’s Phaeton, to take up the reins with an undisguised eagerness.

  The Duke just paused to mutter to his Head Groom,

  “Be careful his Lordship does not spring them!”

  Then he walked a few paces to his D’Orsay Curricle and his second groom handing over the reins, sprang up into the small seat behind.

  The black stallions were fresh and hard to control, but the Duke had time to notice that Sir Jarvis standing on the steps and watching them go, had a puzzled expression on his face and a frown between his eyes.

  The Duke followed the Phaeton ahead of him, until as they passed through the large ornamental gates he noted with satisfaction that the dusty road outside was empty, and there were no houses in sight.

  It was quite easy to see where the high wall of the estate ended and the wooden fence which bordered the wood began. He drew his horses slowly to a standstill saying as he did so, to his groom,

  “Put up the hood, Ben.”

  He thought the groom might be surprised for it was well known among his staff that unless it was raining torrentially or snowing His Grace preferred driving in the open.

  His groom clambered down to pull up the half hood which was skilfully designed so as to cause the least possible reduction of speed, and the Duke saw a slight figure climb lithely over the wooden fence which enclosed the trees and come running over the rough grass towards him.

  He wasted no time in words, but merely put out his hand to draw her into the seat beside him and drove on, hardly giving Ben time to scramble up behind.

  They proceeded for a little while in silence, the Duke well aware that Giona was breathless not so much from the quickness with which she had run to him, as with excitement.

  He glanced at her and saw that her eyes were shining and there was a faint flush on her pale cheeks. He also realised, now that he could see her in the daylight, that she was painfully thin, and the bones of her wrists were protruding in the same manner that he had noticed amongst the children in Portugal after the French had retreated, taking all the available food with them.

  She was still wearing the same grey gown that he had seen her wearing before, only now there was a small woollen shawl over her shoulders.

  He thought it was sensible of her to protect herself against feeling cold during the long journey that lay ahead of them.

  She wore no bonnet, and for the first time he could see the colour of her hair. It was not dark as he had expected, but the colour, he thought, one could most nearly describe as ash, but which was very much more beautiful than the mere word suggested.

  It seemed to hold both the light and darkness in it, as if the sunshine and shadow combined to make a colour he had never seen on any other woman.

  It was the perfect complement to her eyes, which were the grey of a pigeon’s feathers.

  “You have escaped!” he said with a smile.

  “I cannot believe it! Am I really leaving all that – despair and – misery behind?”

  “I swear that nobody shall ever beat you again,” the Duke said, “and the future I envisage for you will, I believe, make up for the past.”

  “How can I have been so – fortunate as to be in that one – special place when you came through the wood to look at the – view?”

  “Being a Greek, you must be aware that the gods look after their own!” the Duke said lightly.

  She gave a little chuckle before she said,

  “I am very, very grateful to – them.”

  After that they drove in silence, the Duke enjoying the perfection of his horses, Giona aware that every mile took her further away from the terror of Sir Jarvis.

  Only when she saw an Inn ahead and realised that the Duke was slowing did she look at him enquiringly and as if she had asked the question he said,

  “I am quite certain you are hungry and had no breakfast before you left.”

  “Even if it had been there, I would have been too excited to eat it.”

  “I have already warned you that I dislike women who faint from exhaustion!”

  “I shall be all right.”

  “I have no wish to take a chance on that.”

  It was as they drew nearer to the Inn that Giona said,

  “Supposing I am seen? We are not so far from Stamford Towers, and Uncle Jarvis might make enquiries about me.”

  “I have thought of that,” the Duke replied. “This is a very out-of-the-way, old-fashioned Inn where your Uncle would never expect me to eat.”

  He thought that Giona was still unconvinced, and he added,

  “You will find tucked into the side of your seat my evening-cape which will cover your gown, and I am going to suggest, as you look very young and very slight, that if you let your hair down I shall mention quite casually that you are my younger sister who has just left School.”

  Giona gave a little laugh of sheer amusement.

  “You are wonderful! You make everything so – exciting and exactly like a story in a novel.”

  As she spoke she was pulling the pins from her hair which was arranged very simply in a large coil at the back of her neck.

  As it fell over her shoulders the Duke saw that it was long and he thought that like everything else about her it was very beautiful.

  It took Giona only
a moment to slip the woollen shawl from her shoulders and instead to clasp the Duke’s black cape with its velvet collar and crimson silk lining at the base of her throat.

  As they drove into the courtyard of the Inn the Duke saw the Innkeeper approaching and knew he was delighted at the prospect of guests who owned such superb horses.

  Ben, who obviously had his Master’s instructions, jumped down to say,

  “This be Sir Alexander Albion who requires a private room where he can have luncheon for himself, and his sister Miss Juliet Albion.”

  The landlord scratched his head.

  “Oi be honoured that the gent’man should patronise moi- Inn, Oi’ve no private parlour, but there be nobody in the dining room.”

  “Then keep it that way,” Ben said and hurried to help Giona down from the curricle.

  While she washed her hands and tidied her hair Giona explained to the Innkeeper’s wife that she had lost her bonnet in the wind from the speed at which she and her brother had travelled over the open country.

  “Have ye got naught to cover ye’re head, miss?” the innkeeper’s wife asked solicitously.

  “My brother would not stop to fetch my bonnet,” she replied, “but he has consented to have the hood up, and I am quite all right.”

  “Oi might ‘ave a piece o’ribbon, miss, if that’d be any help,” the innkeeper’s wife suggested.

  “That would be very kind of you,” Giona replied.

  Accordingly when she came downstairs with her long hair neatly brushed there was a blue ribbon to keep it in place, and it was tied in a small bow on the top of her head.

  There was a twinkle in the Duke’s eyes as she explained how she got it and when they were alone having luncheon he said,

  “Now you really do look like a schoolgirl!”

  “In three months time I shall be nineteen,” Giona replied.

  Before this she had exclaimed with delight when they sat down in the small dining room of the Inn to be served first with slices of pâté.

  “How can they have anything like this here?” she began.

  Then she added quickly,

  “But of course, you brought it with you.”

  “My valet is very solicitous for my comfort,” the Duke answered. “He does not approve of the type of food which is obtainable in most country Inns.”