Hiding from Love Read online

  Señor de Guarda swirled the whisky tumbler.

  “I know. I pass that boy on his way to fetch you a drink.” He eyed her curiously. “When I meet you at the dock, this – Finny is your servant. Now he is a cabin boy. How is this?”

  Leonora felt her elbow grow weak.

  “Someone found him the situation,” she answered. “It was none of my doing. Someone who obviously took an interest in him.”

  “Or in you,” murmured Señor de Guarda.

  Leonora felt very ill now. Her elbow gave way and she slid down in the bed.

  Señor de Guarda regarded her for a second and then came towards her.

  Sitting on the bed, he put his free hand on her brow. She shrank away from his touch, turning her head sideways on the pillow.

  Her door was still open and as she looked, the door of the cabin opposite opened and Mr. Chandos stepped out.

  As if in a dream she saw his gaze settling on the scene before him – Señor de Guarda bending over her, as she lay prostrate.

  Mr. Chandos’s eyes rested coldly on Leonora’s face for an instant and then he was gone.

  Leonora gave a moan of despair.

  “There, there,” mumbled the Señor.

  She struggled up.

  “Go away. You should not – have come in here.”

  He threw up a hand and rose.

  “Forgive me, lovely lady. I was just thinking you needed some comfort. Another time, eh?”

  Winking, he then blundered out of the cabin.

  Leonora fell back, tears coursing down her cheeks.

  Mr. Chandos could not but misinterpret all he had seen. She was utterly compromised in his eyes now! He must think her an utter fool. To set herself up as a girl who rejected the suit of a Lord only to encourage the advances of a trader in whalebone!

  Not that it would matter what Señor de Guarda was if she loved him, she told herself.

  Hearing Finny approaching, she hurriedly dried her eyes on the edge of the sheet.

  “Here you are now, miss. Hot water and sugar with a dash of lemon. That’ll settle you for the night.”

  He held Leonora’s head while she drank.

  “Better, now?” he asked.

  “A little,” she lied.

  She did not feel better at all. Her stomach churned, her limbs ached and her heart felt heavy as lead, so she lay back and Finny drew the cover over her.

  “Don’t go yet,” Leonora pleaded. “Talk to me.”

  “I can’t stay long, miss. I’ve got to turn down the beds in the other cabins.”

  “Will you be preparing Mr. Chandos’s bed next?”

  Finny nodded.

  “His sheets are all silk, miss. And he has a velvet counterpane. And embroidery on his slippers.”

  Leonora pricked up her ears.

  “Embroidery? What does it look like?”

  “It looks like those things on carriage doors – ”

  Leonora drew in her breath.

  An insignia! So Mr. Chandos was connected to the aristocracy. In which case he must know of Lord Merton’s family, if not personally acquainted with him.

  How could she have been so silly as to divulge the details of her story to all and sundry?

  “Do you like Mr. Chandos?” she asked Finny.

  Finny looked strangely furtive.

  “I likes his boots and he gave me sixpence when I brought him tea.”

  “But – would you consider him a man of honour?”

  Finny turned the question over in his head.

  “He’s important,” he said at last. “Otherwise how could he have done what he did for me?”

  Leonora gave a start.

  “What has he done for you, Finny?”

  Finny’s eyes grew large with sudden alarm.

  “Why, I didn’t mean – he made me swear – it just slipped out – I didn’t mean to say it at all.”

  Witnessing his confusion, she understood at once.

  “It was – Mr. Chandos you met at the docks, wasn’t it? It was he who found you this work on board!”

  Finny, eyes darting to all corners, rose to his feet.

  “I have to go, Miss Leonora – my duties.”

  “Finny!” called out Leonora sharply. “Sit down.”

  “I mustn’t – I mustn’t – ”

  Without a backward glance, Finny flew to the door, opened it and was gone.

  Leonora placed her hand over her eyes.

  So it was indeed Mr. Chandos who had taken pity on Finny when the trap had almost lost a wheel.

  Mr. Chandos, who had heard Finny’s tale and found a solution to his unwillingness to return to Schilling House.

  It was Mr. Chandos, who was responsible for the fact that she had the company of Finny on this voyage!

  In which case, she realised, Mr. Chandos probably knew her story right from the start, for Finny would have told him the reasons why she was leaving England.

  One thing she was sure about was that he would not have mentioned that she had taken Mr. Schilling’s money.

  She knew Finny well enough to know he would not disclose information that might make his Mistress appear in an unfavourable light.

  Why Mr. Chandos wished his act of charity to be kept a secret, she could not imagine, unless he wished the extent of his influence on board the ship to go unnoticed.

  Perhaps, she thought with a sudden thrill, he has his own sad story to relate.

  Perhaps he too is fleeing an unhappy experience of love. He had after all talked about her reminding him of ‘someone very dear’.

  Her next thought plunged her into dismay.

  If Mr. Chandos had fled an unhappy love affair, he had soon recovered. How else could he have then devoted so much attention on Desirée Griddle?

  He has a shallow heart indeed she brooded bitterly.

  Yet he was so handsome, so enigmatic with such dark and intelligent eyes, such a strong physique.

  She began to toss and turn on her bed.

  She wished she could banish Mr. Chandos from her mind, just so that she could sleep.

  Next the floor suddenly arose, as if a creature was attempting to force its way in from below.

  Leonora gripped the edge of her bed, as she seemed to feel her stomach turn upside down within her.

  “Ohhh!” she groaned.

  She found herself wishing, despite the memory of her revolting stepfather, that she was now back at Schilling House, back in her own room with its window overlooking the garden – safe and still in her own dear bed.

  She felt so alone.

  If only she had not frightened Finny away with her questions. If only – oh, if only her dearest Mama was here.

  Or Isobel, her friend Isobel, whose cool hand would sooth her brow to cajole her out of this obsession with Mr. Chandos – how she would gently chide her for losing her head in this irresponsible way.

  She had heard that love was a sickness and so it was. Why the very blood in her body seemed to be on fire.

  This cabin was too stuffy.

  She could bear it no longer. She needed air, air to blow her fevered thoughts away like so much thistledown.

  Struggling to sit upright, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and felt for her shoes and shawl.

  She groaned, heaved herself to her feet and opened her cabin door.

  Her progress along the corridor and up the stairs was unsteady.

  As the ship ploughed unruly waves, Leonora clung to walls and banisters. She never knew how she made it to the deck, but next she pushed through a heavy door and there she was.

  She had imagined a fierce wind blowing, but the night was strangely still and it was only the sea that reared angrily beyond the rail.

  Leonora staggered to a bench and dropped down, clutching her shawl about her.

  The brisk salty air was welcome and after a while she felt a little revived.

  She was leaning her head, staring out into the night, when a slight movement caught her eye. She turn
ed and what she saw made her heart sink as deep as the sea.

  Mr. Chandos and Desirée stood in the shadows of the overhanging upper deck. His arm was clasped around her, whilst her head – that head with its pall of dingy hair – was leaning most intimately on his shoulder.

  Sick to her soul, Leonora rose and stumbled away, back to the dark confines of her cabin and a web of stormy bitter thoughts.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Leonora had no desire the next morning to go to the dining salon for breakfast, instead she asked Finny to bring coffee and bread rolls to her cabin.

  She had not slept well, plagued as she was by the recurring image of Desirée Griddle in Mr. Chandos’s arms.

  She had bunched up her pillow, sighed loudly and wept quietly as the night crawled by.

  Finny looked concerned when he saw that she had barely touched the bread rolls.

  “You’ll look just like a broomstick when you arrive in Brazil,” he grumbled as he took up the tray.

  “Don’t scold me, Finny. I have no appetite.”

  She waved her hand in a gesture of weary dismissal and Finny turned to go.

  “They was asking for you at breakfast,” he said.

  Leonora’s heart gave a faint leap.

  “W-who, precisely?”

  “Señor de Guarda and that Mr. and Mrs. Griddle.”

  “Oh,” whispered Leonora.

  “Is there anything else you need, miss?”

  “Was no one else at the table?” she persisted.

  “No. But the daughter came in later – the thin girl with the lanky hair.”

  “Was she – alone?”

  “Yes, miss. She had red eyes and a red nose!”

  Leonora, despite herself, gave a sudden giggle.

  “Oh, Finny. You always cheer me up, do you think she has a cold?”

  “She might have, miss. She had a big handkerchief with her. It was one of Mr. Chandos’s. I recognised it ’cos it had that emblem on it.”

  Leonora turned her head away quickly.

  “I wonder how she came to have it?”

  “She and Mr. Chandos were a-talkin’ on deck quite late last night. Maybe he gave her the handkerchief then.”

  “Does the whole world know about that late night tryst?” she asked with a hint of peevishness.

  Finny looked at her in surprise.

  “I don’t think so. I only know ’cos Mr. Chandos told me.”

  “He told you?” echoed Leonora in disbelief.

  “Yes, miss. I was layin’ out his night things when he came in. He started untying his cravat and then he said ‘Finny, I’ve just spent a troubled hour on deck with Miss Griddle. I don’t mind telling you that I take a great interest in that young lady’s future’.”

  Leonora sank back on her pillows.

  So he had spent a whole hour with Desirée – and a troubled hour too and then he was ready to openly declare his interest in her!

  It was too much to bear!

  She had determined to spend the morning in bed, trying to catch up on sleep, but realised after a few minutes that she felt too restless.

  She also realised that she no longer felt ill. Perhaps the coffee had settled her stomach and at least the ship was not lurching about in quite such a violent fashion, so she decided that she would pass the time writing to her mother.

  She felt somewhat ashamed as she took up her pen as she had almost forgotten about her poor dear Mama in the emotional turmoil of yesterday and today.

  ‘Yesterday and today,’ she repeated with a shock.

  It had taken less than two days for her to be totally discomposed by Mr. Chandos! It just seemed beyond the bounds of possibility that she should be in the grip of such passions in so little time.

  ‘I am not now who I was’, she decided. ‘It must be because of all that had happened in the last few weeks.

  ‘What a great deal I have experienced already,’ she thought with a sudden proud thrill.

  ‘What a great deal I have experienced and survived. Why, I shall survive this passion for Mr. Chandos too and Isobel and I will laugh at my folly over scones and cream, or whatever it is they have for tea in Brazil!’

  She began to write to Mama, describing everyone on board, even going so far as to tell her a little about Mr. Chandos, but not revealing the true extent of her interest.

  Leonora had by now filled up four pages and might have continued on, but she heard the gong sound for lunch.

  With a wild flourish she signed herself “your loving Leonora”, sealed the letter and put it aside to be posted.

  She still did not wish to go to the dining salon and rang for Finny. He was delighted that she felt hungry and hurried off to fetch her soup and fruit from the kitchen.

  She finished everything on the tray and after lunch decided that she needed some fresh air.

  She put on her cloak and went up to the promenade deck, taking a book with her and was relieved to see that there was no one about.

  After a stroll she sat down and opened up her book and soon found that she could not concentrate.

  The glitter of the sea drew her eye, the screech of gulls drew her ear and the book lay abandoned on her lap.

  A familiar figure stepped between her and the sun.

  “Ah! Miss Cressy! You are feeling better?”

  Leonora sighed inwardly.

  “Thank you, yes, Señor de Guarda.

  “I am so glad to hear it.” He gestured at the empty chair to the right of Leonora. “May I –?”

  Leonora blinked as, without waiting, he sat down.

  “You missed an excellent lunch, Miss Cressy,” he remarked, leaning rather intimately towards her. “Fish pie and sherry trifle. What an institution is sherry trifle!”

  Unwilling to be drawn into conversation especially one on the subject of sherry trifle – Leonora said nothing, but picked up her book again.

  Señor de Guarda was not to be discouraged.

  “Ah, you are trying to read. What is this called?”

  Reaching over her, he took hold of the book.

  Leonora froze in horror at this act of audacity.

  Suddenly she could hear the rasping voice of Mrs. Griddle coming towards them.

  “Miss Cressy, how good of the Señor to lure you away from your cabin. You have been rather hiding yourself!”

  Leonora turned her head in a daze to see both Mr. and Mrs. Griddle, staring down at herself and the Señor.

  Beyond them Desirée lingered with Mr. Chandos, whose eyes burned as they settled on Leonora.

  She flushed as she realised that Mr. Chandos had yet again seen her in a somewhat compromising proximity to Señor de Guarda.

  When she next looked up, Mr. Chandos had already averted his gaze, so she stared with longing at his profile, forgetting her determination to expel him from her heart.

  She started as Mrs. Griddle tapped her shoulder.

  “Well? Where have you been all morning?”

  “I – have been rather unwell – ”

  “Then no doubt Señor de Guarda’s attentions have reinvigorated you,” added Mrs. Griddle sarcastically.

  Leonora was unnerved.

  She looked pleadingly towards him for a rebuttal of Mrs. Griddle’s comments, but he seemed merely amused by her discomfort.

  “Miss Cressy is reinvigorated not by me, but by her reading. Her book is very very serious.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Griddle looked down her nose at the book in Leonora’s lap. “And what is the subject matter?”

  “It’s about life – in a mining town,” she replied.

  She was aware of Mr. Chandos turning to stare at her and felt her blush deepen.

  Mr. Griddle frowned down at the book.

  “Not at all a suitable subject for a young girl!” he pronounced. “I would never allow Desirée to read such literature.”

  “There’s nothing left at all that I can read,” moaned Desirée, “since you won’t allow me romance either.”

  “There
’s the Bible,” sniffed Mrs. Griddle, “and the hymn book. They should be sufficient for any young girl.”

  Desirée said nothing more and Leonora almost felt sorry for her until Mr. Chandos spoke up on her behalf.

  “I am sure Miss Griddle would benefit from a wider literary repertoire. I have some volumes of poetry with me that I am sure she would enjoy.”

  “Well, then,” deliberated Mrs. Griddle, “if you, Mr. Chandos, consider it respectable for a young girl to read poetry – ”

  “I do and I should be glad to lend her my books.”

  “Perhaps you would guide her in choosing which of the poems to study?” suggested Mrs. Griddle slyly.

  “With pleasure,” he replied, glancing at Desirée.

  Leonora was most aggrieved to witness the looks that passed between the two. It was most conspiratorial, she decided and now Desirée would have a good reason to seek out the company of Mr. Chandos.

  Mrs. Griddle looked vaguely around the deck.

  “I think we should now all sit down and order some tea.”

  Except for Mr. Chandos everybody took a seat.

  Leonora was unsettled to have Desirée sink into the vacant chair on her left.

  “You and I have had so little opportunity to become acquainted,” the girl whispered.

  Leonora shifted uneasily in her chair – she had no desire whatsoever to become acquainted with the object of Mr. Chandos’s attention.

  Mr. Chandos was standing with his back to the rail and she supposed bitterly it was just so that he might gaze unhindered at Desirée in her silly straw bonnet!

  “Are you keeping a lookout for the Steward, Mr. Chandos, so we can order tea?” called Mrs. Griddle gaily.

  “I am indeed,” he replied, but he turned his head neither to left or right, continuing to stare towards Desirée and, by default, Leonora.

  Desirée sighed deeply into Leonora’s ear.

  “Mr. Chandos is such a singular gentleman!”

  “Is he?” she responded dryly. “I had not noticed!”

  “Oh, but surely you have!” insisted Desirée. “He has such noble bearing, like a Prince or something. And yet he is so very kind.”

  “I had never considered that a Prince might not be kind,” observed Leonora haughtily.

  “No, I suppose not, but that Mr. Chandos should so interest himself in – me, I consider a great compliment.”

  “And I am sure it pleases your mother greatly.”