Sword to the Heart (Bantam Series No. 13) Read online

  Then strangely, unexpectedly she had told him she would marry him!

  He was as surprised as everyone else, and although Lord Colwall’s friends and relations begged him to do nothing so rash, and take a wife who could bring him nothing but unhappiness, he had laughed at their fears.

  He was in love as only a very young and very vulnerable young man could be for the first time in his life and they were married only three weeks after the engagement was announced, in Worcester Cathedral.

  Lady Claris made a very gay and very lovely Bride but, to everyone who knew them, they were an ill-assorted couple. Not only in age but in temperament, from the moment they walked down the aisle as man and wife.

  They came back to the Castle after a short honeymoon, and Lady Claris immediately complained of it being dull.

  It was not the right Season to be in London, so Lord Colwall had invited large numbers of guests to the Castle and there were entertainments from dawn to dusk.

  Late one afternoon a month after their marriage, the guests from a luncheon party had left, when Lady Claris walked across the Salon to the window.

  She wore the long, narrow, high-waisted Empire-style gown which was still fashionable and under which no lady wore corsets, and the sophisticates like Lady Claris no underclothes.

  Her figure was silhouetted against the sunshine, and looking at her Lord Colwall exclaimed half-jokingly:

  “You are getting very fat, Claris. You will have to be more careful of what you eat.”

  She had turned to look at him, a mocking expression in her eyes, and he had felt as if a cold hand touched his heart.

  “Can it be—p-possible?” he stammered. “No, it cannot be, and yet—are you having a—b ... baby?”

  “But of course!” she replied. “Why else should I have married you?”

  For a moment he could not understand what she was saying; then in a voice shaking as if someone had dealt him a body blow, he managed to ejaculate:

  “Whose is it?”

  She had shrugged her white shoulders.

  “I have no idea,” she replied.

  Then before he could speak to her again, she had left the Salon, and gone up to her bed-room.

  Lord Colwall had ordered a curricle to be brought to the front door, and while he waited for it he hated his wife with such ferocity that to prevent himself from murdering her, he knew he must put the greatest distance possible between them.

  Taking only a groom with him, he drove towards London to get away from her, to escape from those mocking eyes, those jeering lips.

  Fool! Fool that he had been! Dolt! Slaphead, not to have realised from the very beginning why she had been in such haste to be married!

  Why had he never asked himself the reason why she should have suddenly succumbed to his love-making when he had least expected it.

  Then, when he was some twenty miles from the Castle, Lord Colwall decided that having been a fool, he was behaving like one yet again. Why should he leave his house because his wife was unfaithful? Why should he leave her in possession of the Castle?

  He would go back and turn her out. She could return to her family.

  The arguments that must ensue as to whether he would accept the child as his own could be conducted between their lawyers decently and with formality.

  Lord Colwall turned his horses round. They were tired from the speed at which they had been driven, and it took him some time to return.

  It was nearly midnight when he arrived back at the Castle, but he was determined that he would see Claris and inform her that he would not keep her under his roof and she was to leave for her father’s house at daybreak.

  He walked into the Hall and saw the expression of surprise on the faces of the two footmen on duty. There was a cloak and hat lying on one of the chairs.

  “Where is Her Ladyship?” he asked.

  There was a moment’s uncomfortableness before the flunkey replied somewhat hesitatingly:

  “I believe—Her Ladyship is—upstairs, M’Lord.”

  He went up the stone staircase like a man possessed and burst open the door of the bed-chamber.

  His wife was in bed, but she was not alone!

  For a moment there was sheer unbridled murder in Lord Colwall’s eyes. Then he seized the man who lay beside Lady Claris and dragged him from the bed onto the floor.

  He was naked and when Lord Colwall recognised him as an older man of no social importance, someone whom he would hardly have considered worth a glance, he had laughed scornfully.

  “I would not soil my hands by fighting you,” he said. “But I intend to kick you out of my house.”

  He dragged the man just as he was down the stairs. The two servants were standing spell-bound in the Hall.

  “Open the door,” Lord Colwall commanded.

  As they hastened to obey, there was a sudden cry from the staircase above.

  Lady Claris was standing there. She had flung a diaphanous wrapper over her nightgown, her dark hair streaming over her shoulders.

  “Stop, Ranulf!” she cried. “You cannot do this! You cannot behave in such a manner! It will cause a scandal, as you well know.”

  “You should have thought of that earlier!” Lord Colwall answered.

  The man, whom he was holding tightly by his arms, made no appeal. He was obviously struck dumb by what was occurring.

  “Ranulf! I command you to let Charles dress and leave decently.”

  “There is nothing decent about him or you!” Lord Colwall replied harshly.

  He dragged the man towards the doorway and Lady Claris screamed furiously:

  “Damn you! Will you listen to me?”

  She began to run down the stairs.

  Whether it was her nightgown which impeded her or the fact that she was heavy with child, it was impossible to determine, but she tripped and fell forward with a shrill cry which echoed round the walls.

  She rolled over and over down the uncarpeted stone stairway to land in the Hall at the feet of her husband and her paramour.

  Her neck was broken.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lord Colwall came down the steps of the Castle with a pronounced scowl on his face.

  The black stallion waiting for him was being held with difficulty by two grooms and he swung himself quickly into the saddle.

  “Her Ladyship’s horse was a bit frisky, too, M’Lord,” one of the grooms said, “and I was to tell Your Lordship that she’s gone on ahead.”

  Lord Colwall looked surprised, and then a little way down the drive he saw a figure in a blue habit riding a roan mare and holding it under control with some difficulty.

  He set off towards Natalia at a sharp pace. He had not slept well and had risen that morning feeling both apprehensive and angry.

  ‘How,’ he asked himself, ‘could I ever imagine I would find myself in such an uncontrollable situation?’

  At the same time he had to admit that in the circumstances Natalia had behaved in an exemplary manner.

  She had neither wept nor berated him as another woman might have done. She had assembled her arguments well and had been logical in the manner in which she had presented them.

  At the same time he was appalled at what the future might hold.

  He reached Natalia’s side and saw that she was wearing a sapphire-blue riding-habit of velvet which accentuated her small waist.

  Her high-crowned riding-hat was encircled by a gauze veil which hung down her back and she looked very young and lovely.

  “Good morning, My Lord,” she said in a light tone as he approached. “I had hoped that you would invite me to ride with you this morning; but, as you did not do so, I presumed to order my own horse in the hope that I might be allowed to accompany you.”

  “I am delighted you should do so,” Lord Colwall replied.

  “And dare I suggest that I race you across the Park, which I feel will blow away some of the cobwebs?” Natalia asked.

  She turned her horse as she spoke and rode
off without waiting for his reply. Lord Colwall, pressing his top hat firmly on his head, set off in pursuit.

  As she galloped ahead of him, he admitted to himself that she rode surprisingly well. He had expected her to be proficient, but himself an extremely experienced horseman he recognised that Natalia was in fact outstanding.

  The sound of their horses’ hoofs thundered in their ears as they sped across the Park and on through open fields.

  Finally, when they must have gone for over two miles and Lord Colwall was two lengths ahead, they both drew in their horses and he turned to see Natalia’s laughing face.

  “You beat me fairly,” she admitted, “as I had always hoped you would!”

  He raised his eyebrows and she explained:

  “When in my imagination Crusader and I were racing my Knight, I always permitted him to win! I felt it would lower his prestige to be defeated by a mere woman.”

  “You should not be so modest,” Lord Colwall said. “You are, as I expect you well know, an exceptionally good horsewoman!”

  “I am glad that one of my accomplishments finds favour in Your Lordship’s eyes.”

  “It will be interesting to discover the others,” he replied.

  Their horses were walking side by side, sweating a little at the speed at which they had galloped.

  “I thought last night that you were extremely surprised to find that I should have a will of my own,” Natalia said with a smile. “You had me brought up in accordance with your wishes and then, unexpectedly, I disconcerted you.”

  Lord Colwall said nothing and Natalia went on with a look of mischief in her eyes:

  “I wonder if you know the story that when Adam behaved so badly in the Garden of Eden, God protested about him to one of the Angels.

  “ ‘But, My Lord’ the Angel replied, ‘you gave Adam free will!’

  “ ‘I gave him free will to agree with me!’ God answered. ‘But when he disagrees, it is just darned impudence!’ ”

  Lord Colwall laughed.

  “Are you seriously comparing me with the Almighty?”

  “Why not?” Natalia asked. “You are very autocratic.”

  “I have a feeling,” he said, noting the dimple that had appeared at the side of her mouth, “that you are being deliberately provocative! If you are not careful, Natalia, I shall lock you up in one of the dungeons beneath the Castle, or perhaps incarcerate you in one of the turrets!”

  “Oh, let it be a turret!” Natalia cried. “I can then let down my long hair to make a rope by which to escape!”

  She glanced at him from under her eye-lashes and added:

  “That is if I really wanted to leave...”

  She touched her horse with a spur as she spoke and once again she was forging ahead and Lord Colwall had to exert himself to keep beside her.

  They returned to the Castle in time for luncheon. Natalia chatted gaily all through the meal and when they had finished, she persuaded Lord Colwall to show her his home.

  He was amazed at how much she knew about the pictures which hung on the ancient walls and the furniture which graced every Salon.

  Natalia had expected the Castle to be impressive. What she had not known was that every owner for centuries had been not only an adventurer, but also a collector.

  From the time the Castle had been built, the Colwalls had acquired valuables from all over the world by conquest, by piracy and from the sheer joy of acquisition.

  There were scrolls and jade from China; mosaics and carpets from Persia, marble and bronze statues from Greece, pictures by all the great Masters from Italy, France and Holland.

  Where the scenes depicted were mythological, Natalia was better informed than Lord Colwall had believed possible. He had expected to be the teacher, but found himself the pupil.

  Finally, when they had inspected the magnificent Library which had so delighted the Reverend Adolphus, he unlocked a door which stood in a corner of it.

  It was very heavily made. The hinges were of brass and so were the studs which were deeply embedded in the old oak.

  “This is my Strong-Room,” he explained.

  When he pulled open the door for Natalia to enter, she gave a gasp of surprise.

  It was a circular room, the windows were only narrow slits, and she realised she was in one of the turrets.

  She could see that all round the room there were glass cases, rising one above the other, and they contained jewels.

  There was a case in which reposed the magnificent diamond tiara she had worn for her wedding, surrounded by a necklace, earrings, bracelets and rings, all of the same design.

  In another case there was a parure of emeralds, another of rubies, another of sapphires, and a fifth containing a diadem of pearls.

  In other cases there were amethysts, topazes, turquoises, aquamarines, gold and silver necklaces of great antiquity set with un-cut stones.

  Baroque pearls filled a bowl to overflowing, which Lord Colwall explained was treasure trove from the West Indies brought home by the Colwall who sailed with Drake.

  There was also enamel work like the pendant which Natalia wore round her neck and which had been made by master craftsmen of Venice, whose work of two centuries earlier remained unrivalled.

  Natalia ran like a child from case to case exclaiming excitedly and asking Lord Colwall to explain to her where the jewels had been found.

  She listened while he related deeds of daring and sometimes of terror, the Colwall who had acquired them sometimes escaping death only by inches.

  Finally he opened the cases and she took out the jewels one by one to touch them, to try them on her wrists and place them against her white skin.

  She could see her reflection in the oval mirror which hung on the wall. It had come from India and was encrusted with emeralds the size of pigeons eggs and diamonds seemingly too big to be real.

  “Tell me more! Tell me about this!” she kept saying, until finally Lord Colwall protested:

  “I think I have exhausted my stories. If you want to know more you will have to search through the Family Records which contain particulars of my ancestors’ journeys and the battles in which they were engaged.”

  “Perhaps we could put them all together and make a book,” Natalia suggested.

  She was just going to add “... for future generations,” when she realised what the words suggested!

  Blushing she turned to the nearest case, took out an enormous tiara of sapphires and diamonds, and set it upon her head.

  It became her fair hair, and the jewels echoed the light in her eyes as she turned towards Lord Colwall to say:

  “Now I look like a Queen, fit to sit beside your throne!”

  She was laughing as she spoke, and her voice seemed to echo round the room while a shaft of sunlight coming through an arrow-slit window made the great tiara glitter almost blindingly.

  “Why not fit to grace my bed?” Lord Colwall asked.

  His eyes met Natalia’s as he spoke and somehow it was impossible for either of them to move.

  Something passed between them until, as she saw a fire smouldering in his eyes, she took the tiara from her head and put it in his hands.

  Then she walked away, leaving him alone amongst his jewels.

  The following morning Lord Colwall returned from a meeting that he had been obliged to attend in Hereford.

  There was no sign of Natalia as he came into the Hall, nor did he find her in the Salon.

  He next tried the Library and had only just walked towards the fire-place to hold out his hands to the blaze, when the door opened and she came in.

  She was still wearing a bonnet which framed her small face and the silk ribbons were tied under her chin.

  She had not discarded the cloak she had worn, and it was obvious as she moved across the space between them that she was in a hurry.

  She reached Lord Colwall’s side and stood looking up at him, her eyes troubled, and he fancied in surprise there was something like anger in her expre
ssion.

  “You have a threshing-machine!”

  Lord Colwall raised his eyebrows.

  “Why should it concern you?”

  “I understand it has just been installed.”

  “It arrived on the Estate three days ago.”

  “How can you do anything so foolhardy at this particular moment?” Natalia cried, “and why indeed should you want one?”

  “I consider myself somewhat remiss in not having one before,” Lord Colwall replied. “Most estates of this size have moved with the times. I did in fact intend to purchase one last year, but I was not impressed with the performance of the ones I inspected.”

  “Do you realise what it will mean to the men you employ?”

  Natalia asked, and now there was no doubt that her tone was angry.

  “I cannot imagine why it should interest you,” Lord Colwall answered.

  “I have just come from a cottage where there are nine people living on the wages of one man.”

  “You have come from a cottage?” Lord Colwall repeated. ‘What right had you to visit one of my cottages without telling me?”

  “I learnt this morning after you had departed for Hereford, that an Aunt of one of the under-housemaids was very ill,” Natalia answered. “I took her some soup and food for the children and I found...”

  She paused as if it was difficult to speak of what she had discovered.

  “What did you find?” Lord Colwall asked harshly.

  “I found a household on the verge of starvation!”

  “It is not true. The labourers on my Estate are paid more than the average.”

  “I heard that,” Natalia said. “You give them eight shillings per week. Do you really call that an adequate sum for a man to support his widowed mother, his wife and seven children?”

  Lord Colwall did not answer and she went on:

  “The only thing they can look forward to after the summer, and their only chance of survival, is by threshing through the winter by which they can earn just enough to feed them until the spring. At the moment they are existing on potatoes and roots.”

  “I cannot believe this is the truth.”

  “Of course it is the truth!” Natalia contradicted. “I have read about such things, but I had not seen the actual suffering myself. Those children are skin and bones, and the cottage ... it looks decent enough on the outside, but the conditions within are indescribable.”