Joined by Love Page 9

  “Violet?” she asked, hoping that he would explain himself.

  “Yes!” he cried. “It came to me as I watched you two together. You are so much alike with your brown hair and your slim figures.”

  Lucilla was thoroughly puzzled, but the Marquis was still talking. “And when Violet spoke of you being the sister she has always longed for – why – then the idea struck me!”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Lucilla drew her hand away from his, as she was feeling more confused by the moment.

  “Don’t you see?” the Marquis continued. “Violet is so longing to stay at home. She says she will accompany me, but I just know she will be miserable. Why don’t you come, Lucilla? And pretend to be my sister? Don’t you think that would be the most marvellous fun?”

  “I – don’t know!” Lucilla stammered. It was hard to resist him when he stood in front of her smiling, his brown eyes so earnest and beseeching.

  She did not know what to think of his proposition. It would be great fun, yes, to go to Paris with him. But how would she feel if she had always to play the role of a sister? Would she be able to conceal the fact that being close to him would make her heart race with such intense and most un-sisterly emotions?

  “What do you say?” he was asking now, looking anxiously at her.

  “Yes!” Lucilla could not help but say it, for the smile was fading from his lips and she could not bear to see him sad again. “I will come.”

  As soon as the words were out, she knew that she had made the right decision. His face lit up with delight again.

  “We must tell Nanny!” he suggested. “Come, I will walk back to Holly Cottage with you.”

  He looped the reins of his grey horse over his arm and they strolled up the road and over the bridge through bright winter sunshine, listening to small birds cheeping in the trees.

  For a while they walked together without speaking and Lucilla thought that just to be with him, so quietly and companionably, was one of the most wonderful feelings she had ever experienced.

  ‘There is something so alive about him,’ she said to herself. ‘He makes everything seem more beautiful and more exciting.’

  Almost as if he could now read her thoughts, the Marquis turned to her, his face alight with enthusiasm.

  “Spring is coming,” he sighed. “You will just love Paris. It is quite perfect in the springtime.”

  Lucilla nodded. She had been to Paris with Mama and Papa, but not in the spring.

  And then they were at Holly Cottage. The Marquis tied his horse to the gatepost and came inside with Lucilla.

  Nanny Groves did not look pleased when she heard the Marquis’s plan. “Whatever are you thinking about, Dermot!” she exclaimed. “Don’t you think it’s the best idea ever?” he said, a little anxiously, as Nanny was looking fiercely at him.

  “I most certainly do not!” the old lady responded, her chin held at a very determined angle. “You are asking Lucilla to pretend to be Violet! That is not only deceitful, but is placing Lucilla in a most compromising position.”

  All the joy and excitement that had filled her heart only a few moments ago now evaporated like mist, as she listened to these words.

  “What will you do if you meet someone in France who knows Violet? You are asking Lucilla to live a lie. And to accompany you on your journey to Paris without a chaperone would be disastrous for her reputation.”

  “But Nanny – Lucilla is longing to go! Look at her, she has gone quite white with disappointment.”

  Nanny shook her head. “However she may feel about it, Dermot, does not alter the facts as I have just explained them to you.”

  “Well – ” the Marquis’s dark brows drew together thoughtfully. “How about if Lucilla became – my younger sister – what shall we call her? Letitia? The sister that no one has ever met, because she has always stayed at home?”

  He then grinned at Nanny, his head on one side and Lucilla suddenly saw the little boy he had once been.

  Nanny shook her head again.

  “Dermot, you are very naughty! I suppose it’s very slightly worse to have Lucilla impersonate someone you have invented.”

  “Absolutely!” he cried. “Of course it would have been awful, if we really met someone in France who knew Violet, but – if Lucilla is ‘Letitia’ – what’s the problem?”

  Lucilla was starting to feel a little faint, for the two of them were talking about her as if she was not there and she no longer knew if she wanted to go to Paris after all.

  Nanny turned to her. “What do you think, my dear? Do you want to go along with this madcap scheme?”

  “I – don’t know,” Lucilla replied, and then she saw the disappointment in the Marquis’s eyes, and thought of how hard it would be not to see him through all the long weeks he would be away.

  Even if she had to pretend that he was her brother, at least she would be by his side and then she found herself saying, “But – I think I – should love to go to Paris!”

  For yes, that was the truth. The thought of being left behind and of not seeing the Marquis for week upon week, turned her heart as cold as a lump of ice.

  Nanny sighed, “Then there is nothing for it. I shall have to come with you.” Lucilla caught her breath in horror. “No! Nanny Groves! You must not! It will be far too much for you!”

  She thought of how slowly the old lady moved and of how often she needed to refresh herself with a peaceful nap in her armchair by the fire. The Marquis agreed. “Lucilla is right, Nanny. We cannot tear you away from your home.”

  Nanny’s little chin was still held high. “I might like to see Paris before I die,” she said. “I always wanted to go there when I was a young woman, but I had a living to earn and there were children to care for.” A smile flashed across the Marquis’s handsome face.

  “We will travel by First Class, Nanny, and we shall stay at the best hotels. Don’t you think that, with extra special care, we will be able to make you feel comfortable and happy?”

  Hope was spreading its wings inside Lucilla’s chest like a happy little bird. Perhaps, after all, there was a way she could go to France with the Marquis.

  “If you really would like to go, Nanny, I could take care of you,” she suggested. “I would make sure that you had everything you needed and that you never had to walk too far.”

  Nanny Groves tutted and shook her head. “I don’t know, Lucilla. You are still asking me to go along with an untruth! I will think about it, Dermot. I should like to talk to Lucilla and hear what she has to say. Let’s leave it until tomorrow and then we will give you our decision.”

  He looked as if he wanted to try and persuade her on the spot, but then he thought better of it.

  “All right, Nanny,” he agreed. “I’ll leave it to you. And Lucilla, for Goodness’ sake – take that dreadful shawl off. You can’t go to Paris looking like a washerwoman. Where is that lovely coat you were wearing yesterday?”

  Lucilla’s cheeks burned as she tried desperately to think how she would reply. But before she could open her mouth, Nanny was explaining to the Marquis that the coat had been returned to the person who gave it to Lucilla. “Oh! I see,” he intoned and gave Lucilla a quick sideways glance. “Well – I should be going. Lucilla, will you see me to the front gate?”

  Lucilla opened the front door and walked with him down the garden path, praying that her face was not as red as she feared it must be.

  “This is the man you spoke of yesterday! You are returning the coat to him because you cannot accept his proposal?” the Marquis quizzed, his dark eyebrows raised.

  It would have been all too easy for Lucilla just to nod her head in agreement. But he must have noticed the confusion in her eyes, as he continued to question her,

  “He must be a gentleman of good taste to buy you such a lovely garment.”

  “Oh – no!” Lucilla found the words were slipping out before she had time to think what she was saying. “He is an American – from Texas. He would never hav
e known to buy something lovely like that – ”

  She thought of Harkness Jackson’s loud ties and ill-fitting suits and the unfashionable shoes he wore.

  “An American!” The Marquis’s face had turned suddenly bleak. He must be thinking of Ethel and of Mortimer, her fiancé.

  Lucilla felt her face growing even hotter.

  “There is a mystery, here!” he declared, looking down at her. “You received a present – a wonderful coat that makes you look like a Duchess, at the very least, if not even a Princess. Who would give you such a thing, if not a man who wanted to marry you? Or perhaps you have more than one suitor?”

  Lucilla shook her head. “No, no, it was not like that at all – it was a friend –or not a friend exactly – ”

  “It must be a suitor!”

  “No, it was a woman,” Lucilla blurted out, for she could not bear him to think that there was yet another man pursuing her. Immediately she regretted saying this and longed to escape back to the parlour and seek refuge with Nanny, as a strange look had now come over the Marquis’s strong features.

  “Ethel – ” he said, his voice deep with pain. “It was Ethel, wasn’t it, who gave you the coat? I knew there was something oddly familiar about you. We met, did we not, at the engagement party? You are – or you were – a friend of Ethel’s?”

  Lucilla’s heart could sink no lower. The Marquis’s brown eyes no longer seemed to see her. He was staring back into the past, totally absorbed in the woman he loved so much, the one who had caused him so much pain.

  “Ethel,” he was muttering under his breath. “Of course. She is marrying an American and so perhaps she introduced you to this man who then proposed to you.” He sighed. “Only she would choose such a perfect gift for you. She has such an eye for beauty. So why did you send it back?”

  Lucilla recoiled from the look of despair he threw at her. “I – cannot really – explain,” she stammered. She wanted to tell him that Ethel was not her friend and that she had not wanted to take the coat in the first place.

  And she wanted to say that, when he had told her how Ethel had betrayed him, she knew that she would not be able to wear the coat any more, that she had suddenly hated it.

  But her voice would not obey her and her heart knew that he would not hear her, whatever she said, for he was completely lost in the memory of the woman he had loved so much.

  He gave her a swift careless bow and untied his tall grey horse, springing up onto its back. As she watched him canter away towards Appleton Hall, Lucilla felt warm tears begin to slide down her face.

  ‘I cannot go!’ she gasped. ‘I cannot do it. He still loves her! I cannot go with him, pretending to be his sister, all the while knowing that he is only thinking of Ethel!’

  *

  She turned to go back to Holly Cottage, wiping her face so that Nanny should not see how upset she was.

  As soon as she felt calm and composed, she went into the little parlour and sat down on the sofa.

  “Nanny – I don’t think that I should go to Paris,” she said.

  The old lady looked at her in surprise. “Well – what a change of heart!” she exclaimed.

  Lucilla went on, struggling to keep her voice level, “All the things that you said were right, Nanny. I should not go.”

  Nanny was silent for a few moments, her bright blue eyes searching Lucilla’s face.

  Lucilla hoped that the old lady could not read her thoughts, could not see how upset she was and how deeply she minded not going and not being with the Marquis.

  “And Nanny, it would be very difficult for you to travel all that way.”

  Nanny smiled. “Now that I have made my mind up to it, I might be very disappointed not to go!”

  Lucilla now felt that whichever way she turned, she seemed to be making things worse and she leaned against the arm of the sofa with a sigh of despair, as Nanny carried on speaking.

  “My dear, a moment ago, the trip to Paris was your dearest wish. I don’t understand why you have changed your mind so quickly.”

  Lucilla looked down, trying to avoid the old lady’s inquiring eyes and saw that she was still wearing Nanny’s shawl.

  “I have no smart clothes, Nanny!” she told her and that was certainly the truth. “Paris is the most fashionable City in Europe. I cannot go there with all my old things!”

  “Ah, so that’s it. I knew you had been crying when you came in just now. Has the Marquis been teasing you about your wardrobe? He really is very naughty.”

  “No one would ever believe that I was his sister if I turned up dressed in my old clothes with a shawl of yours draped over them!”

  But Nanny was looking thoughtful. “Perhaps you might not need to pretend to be his sister, if I was with you as your chaperone.”

  “No, Nanny!” Lucilla cried, her heart in her mouth. “What if someone met me who might tell my aunt and the man who wants to marry me where I was?”

  “Yes, perhaps that's not such a good idea.”

  “No, Nanny. So – you see, I really cannot go!”

  Lucilla sat back on the sofa, believing that at last the matter was settled.

  Nanny sighed. “What a shame. As I think that Dermot would have enjoyed your company very much.”

  Lucilla’s heart turned over. “Please, Nanny, I do think we should stop talking about this wild idea. I can’t go, I have nothing to wear.”

  Nanny’s blue eyes were twinkling now in rather a mischievous way. “Your Mama always had such beautiful clothes. What happened to them all?”

  “I think they are still at Wellsprings Place,” Lucilla replied. “I expect they will all go when the house is sold. I could not take much with me when I moved in with Aunt Maud. Her house is quite small – and I was so upset, I just wanted to get away.”

  “Why don’t you go back there and see if there isn’t something you might like to wear?”

  “I couldn’t!” Lucilla cried out, thinking of her old home – sad and empty, no lights shining in the windows, no happy voices echoing through the lovely rooms. “I could not bear to see it again!”

  “Don’t you think that your Mama would want you to have her lovely clothes?” Nanny asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Lucilla thought, ‘Mama would hate the idea of her best dresses and coats and hats being sold to strangers.’ Nanny was still talking and her voice had taken on the determined tone that Lucilla recalled all too well from her childhood.

  “Now that I have had some time to think about it,” the old lady was saying now, “I have decided that I really would very much like to go to Paris after all. It is my last chance to see a little of the world and I am determined to do it. “I cannot go unless you come along too, Lucilla, to look after me. You must go back to the old house and find something to wear. I will book the Stationmaster’s pony and trap and you can go there tomorrow. It’s not far at all to Wellsprings Place.”

  And Lucilla knew that indeed Nanny had made up her mind, as when she spoke in that tone of voice, she could not be argued with.

  *

  Just after noon on the following day, the pony and trap, driven by the Stationmaster’s young nephew, drew up in front of the wide curved steps that led up to the front door of Wellsprings Place.

  As Lucilla stepped down from the trap and climbed the steps, her anxious thoughts of Paris, the Marquis and Ethel all melted away and she found herself lost in all her precious memories of the past.

  How many times through her childhood and young womanhood she had run up to the front door, knowing that a warm and loving welcome awaited her. As soon as she was inside the house, her Mama would call her into the parlour to sit by the blazing fire and tell her all about her walk, her ride or her visit to a friend’s house. And then, a little later, her Papa would come out from his study to join them, bringing a book he thought Lucilla might like to read.

  She reached up to tug on the handle of the metal bell-pull and heard the bell jangling deep inside the house, but no one came.

>   Lucilla rang again and felt her chest grow tight, as she waited and still no one answered. Maybe the servants had been sent away and the house was completely empty.

  She could not go back now that she had come all this way. “Wait for me!” she called out to the Stationmaster’s nephew, who was standing by the pony’s head. “I will try and get in another way.”

  As she walked around to the back of the house, she noticed that little blades of grass were growing up through the flagstones of the terrace. By summer the whole place would look like a wilderness.

  When she reached the tall windows of the library, that looked out over the gardens at the back of the house, there was, just as she remembered it, a broken catch on one of them.

  It was easy for Lucilla to push the window open and climb in.

  The library smelt of the leather bindings of books and of cigar smoke and it shocked her to realise that her Papa was not actually there, sitting in one of the armchairs reading. She hurried into the hall and up the stairs to her Mama’s room, not daring to stop and look at anything, for there was a great weight of sadness inside her and she did not want to let it break through until she had finished what she intended to do.

  The air in her Mama’s bedroom was very still and smelled so strongly of her gardenia perfume that Lucilla stopped in the doorway breathing it in.

  On the dressing table, lit up by the winter sunlight that was shining in through the window, she could see the silver-backed brushes and all the pretty bottles and jars, laid out as if her Mama was still using them every day. Lucilla stepped into the room and found herself walking over to the dressing table and sitting down on the stool in front of it.

  “Mama?” she then whispered, for suddenly she felt a flash of happiness pass through her, as it used to when she was a child as she came and ran into her mother’s arms for a hug. “Mama – ” she said. “I – might go to Paris – ”

  The feeling of happiness suddenly increased and it was just as if her mother was standing beside her, laughing and smiling and reaching out to give her a kiss.

  “I don’t know what to do, Mama,” she then found herself saying, “should I go? I am so confused, because the Marquis has asked me to go and I want to be with him, but – he loves someone else.”