The Star of Love Read online

  “I have done so before,” Charles observed. “It never produced this reaction. Instead I was vilified until I gave in.”

  “Because I knew you would give in. But this time I was thrown back on my own resources and it did me a world of good.”

  “For the love of Heaven!” Freddy murmured in disgust.

  “No, let him talk, Freddy,” said Charles, grinning. “It’s entertaining if nothing else. Have a care, John. I’ve known you all your life, remember? I know how good you are at acting a role when it suits you.”

  “I can think of a few times when it suited you as well,” said John, also grinning. “When we were in trouble as boys, who was it who always talked us out of it?”

  “You,” said Charles with a careless wave of the hand. “You always had the gift of a silver tongue. I’ve never denied that. But then, it was always you who got us into trouble in the first place!”

  “I was more ingenious than you,” John agreed. “And I had what every true villain needs – the conviction that I could get away with it. You never believed you could. You were always wondering what would happen.”

  “Yes, that was it,” murmured Charles. “Do you still remember that time we raided Farmer Jacob’s orchard – ?”

  “And he came rampaging up to the house,” John took up the story. “And we went to the window in the loft and dropped apples on his head. But that wasn’t as good as when we – ”

  Freddy listened to these reminiscences, aghast at the way Charles was softening. Had he forgotten John’s behaviour? He tried to signal to him behind John’s back, reminding him of what he had suffered, but Charles seemed happy to let it go. For an hour the two cousins swapped stories of childhood delinquency.

  Freddy watched in silence. He was beginning to appreciate something that Charles had told him, but which he had never understood before. These two had once been truly friends, before jealousy and the lust for money had overtaken John, and that, in losing him, Charles had suffered a bereavement like a death. Now he was like a man being revisited by a much loved ghost.

  “Remember that cook – what was her name? – anyway she was going to make apple turnovers – ” This was Charles’s contribution.

  “And we raided the kitchen and stripped it clean of apples –”

  “I let the chickens out and they got into the kitchen garden and pecked all the vegetables,” Charles remembered.

  “You can’t count that,” John objected.

  “Why can’t I?”

  “Because you did it by accident.”

  “Does that matter?”

  “Of course. It only counts if it was malice aforethought,” John asserted, refilling his glass.

  “I never was much good at malice aforethought,” mused Charles. “I was better at blundering idiocy.”

  “That’s true,” agreed John. He regarded the brandy decanter with surprise. “This is empty.”

  “It’s been empty for some time,” Charles pointed out. “Freddy found us another one in the cupboard.”

  “So he did. Where is it?”

  “That’s empty too,” said Freddy, speaking slowly from a feeling that the world would float away if he didn’t keep tight hold of it.

  “You’re drunk old fellow,” Charles informed him amiably.

  Freddy considered this. “Do you really think so?”

  “Sure of it.”

  But Freddy wanted a second opinion. “John, am I drunk?”

  But the only answer was a faint snore from the chair opposite him, where John lay with his head back.

  “No use asking him,” Charles said wisely. “He’s drunker than you are.”

  Freddy thought about this.

  “Nobody’s drunker than I am,” he said at last.

  Charles hauled himself reluctantly to his feet and went over to where John lay sleeping.

  “John.” He touched his shoulder. “John. Time to go to bed.”

  There was no movement from his cousin who lay, as relaxed as a child, all care wiped from his face. Suddenly it was possible to discern the charming young man that nature had meant him to be before bitterness and jealousy had claimed him.

  Looking at Charles’s sad face, Freddy saw that he had been affected by the memories tonight had brought back.

  ‘But it’s more than that,’ he thought. ‘Something else has happened. Something he can’t bear.’

  “Let’s get him to bed,” suggested Charles.

  Between them they hauled John to his feet and assisted him to the door. Through the darkened house they half dragged him, until they reached his room, where they found John’s valet, Raskin, waiting up for him.

  “I’ll take him now, my Lord,” he said softly to Charles.

  Watching the easy way the man steered John to the bed, laid him down and began to remove his shoes, Charles was struck by an idea.

  “Do you do this very often?” he asked.

  “Pretty often, my Lord. When he wins and when he loses. He had a huge win yesterday. Very gratifying, if I may say so. Dead to the world for hours, he was.” Raskin sounded proud of his master’s achievements.

  “So there’s part of the answer,” said Charles to Freddy as they walked away. “He had a huge win, so my refusal of cash no longer rankles.”

  “And he thought it wise to make his peace in readiness for the next time,” said Freddy. “Don’t trust him, Charles. Nothing has really changed. He’ll spend his winnings and be back.”

  “I know he will. Don’t fret my lad. I may have let myself grow a little sentimental tonight, but it doesn’t mean I am completely off-guard. Goodnight.”

  Once in his own room Charles sent his valet away and removed his coat, not sure whether to be glad or sorry that the evening was over. He had been glad to prolong the last part of it in his cousin’s company, because that way he was spared from having to reflect too deeply on what had happened earlier.

  But there was to be no escape for him now. He could still see Cliona’s face, eagerly willing to give him her love and then distraught as he rebuffed her. He closed his eyes, trying to banish her, but she would not be banished.

  He relived the scene endlessly, trying to manage everything better and to word his refusal more sensitively, but it was useless. He had meant to be kind and caring, but in the end he had been stupid, clumsy and cruel. The stain on his conscience would not be wiped away.

  In his mind he saw again her tears, sparkling like the star she had shown him, promising him that it was all his.

  His heart seemed to constrict within him. With her sweet generosity she had tried to restore his faith. She had even kissed him. And he had broken her heart.

  No. He resisted that thought. She was young and beautiful. Admirers would crowd around her. She would soon forget him and love another. It was his own heart that was fatally wounded.

  He pulled open his window and leaned out, trying to find that perfect glittering star that shone so much more brightly than the others.

  But dawn was breaking, and he could no longer see the stars.

  *

  Cliona had always risen early. When you had lived one step ahead of the bailiffs, it became a necessary habit. The morning after the dinner party she was up at her normal time, so that her uncle and aunt noticed nothing unusual in her behaviour.

  Nor were they surprised when she elected to take her normal ride, and since they were now coming under her sway they did not object when she left her groom behind.

  She did not delude herself about the purpose of her ride. She went straight to the place in the wood where she had first met Charles. If only he would come in search of her today, she could discover the truth about his strange attitude and win from him his acknowledgement in words of what she had sensed in his lips, his arms and the beating of his heart.

  If not –

  But she refused to consider that, lest her anguish should be too great to bear.

  She waited half an hour while the bright day about her grew steadily bleaker and
the ache in her heart became unbearable. But then, just as she was about to give up and ride home, she saw him riding between the trees, the slanting sunbeams touching his hair.

  Gladness flooded her. She almost called his name. The next moment she was glad she had not done so.

  It was not Charles, but John.

  She sat there, waiting for the beating of her heart to subside, reflecting bitterly on the family likeness that had cruelly deceived her. By the time he reached her, she was in full command of herself.

  John had observed her from afar and blessed the luck that had thrown him this chance. Approaching her, he smiled, on his best behaviour.

  “Lady Cliona,” he said, doffing his hat. “Your servant, ma’am.”

  She inclined her head with a little gracious gesture. For the moment she was terribly tempted to ask him about Charles, but she remained resolute. She would wear her heart on her sleeve for no man.

  “I gather I missed an excellent evening last night”, John ventured.

  “Yes, it was a pity that you arrived late. We were having such fun making music.”

  “I never thought of my cousin as a man for music.”

  “He is certainly not a performer,” she agreed. “Perhaps he likes listening. Since I have only just met him I could not say. Will your visit be a long one? I do hope so.”

  “How kind of you. I hope it may. I certainly mean to be here for the race meeting next week. It’s always a big occasion.”

  “So my Uncle Kenton tells me. I gather there is great rivalry between himself and Lord Hartley.”

  He laughed. “Immense. Last year one of Sir Kenton’s horses won a race that my cousin was expected to win. It was practically pistols at dawn, but they remembered in time that they are the best of friends.”

  She was managing to cope better, she thought, now that the first shock was over. It was not really possible to confuse them. Their builds were similar, their hair identical, but their faces were merely alike, not the same.

  But still, she could have wished they looked just a little more different.

  They didn’t act alike. She soon realised that John was putting himself out to be charming. Charles was not charming or not deliberately so. He was slightly gruff and burdened with care, so that she yearned to protect him.

  John did not inspire her with protective feelings. He was too much at ease for that. But he was pleasing company for a while, so she smiled and turned her horse to ride with him.

  She chattered, not gently and sincerely as she had with Charles, but brightly like a magpie, laughing a little too merrily at John’s witticisms, and capping them with some of her own, so that he too roared with laughter.

  They looked so attractive, so right together. Anybody would have thought they presented a delightful pair.

  But the man watching them from a short distance away did not think so. He sat very still on Lightning, scowling as they cantered away from him. Whatever might have been his object in coming to the wood, he knew now that it was pointless.

  How could he have imagined her broken-hearted or pining for him? It was laughable. He was laughable, a clown stumbling through the world, doing nothing right. He knew it now.

  He waited until they had vanished from his sight. Then he galloped back to Hartley Castle.

  *

  To Charles’s relief John did not demand to be entertained, seeming quite capable of occupying himself. He went out every day, mounted on one of the best horses and Charles heard of his activities only by rumour.

  In three days they had only one real conversation in which John said casually, “

  You probably think I’ve come here to agitate you about money again. Well, I haven’t. I have sorted my own affairs out, as you told me to.”

  “You raised all that money?” asked Charles in some surprise.

  “I won a great deal playing cards one evening. More than I could have hoped. It doesn’t solve the entire problem, of course, but I’ll take care of that myself too. You’ve been dashed good to me, old man, and very patient. But it’s all over now, I swear it.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” said Charles shortly.

  “You sound as if you’re still angry. I suppose I can’t blame you after all I’ve done. But I swear things will be different from now on. Will you shake my hand?”

  Charles regarded his cousin’s outstretched hand with distaste. But to refuse was impossible, and so he put out his own and offered the briefest possible shake.

  But John clasped Charles’s hand between his own two and shook it long and heartily.

  “Dashed good of you, old man. I won’t forget this.” He seemed on the verge of tears.

  “No need to make a fuss,” said Charles gruffly. “Go and visit our grandmother. She was asking for you.”

  When John had departed, Freddy, who had been watching the scene with disgusted fascination, said scathingly, “

  Did you hear that noise he makes as he moves?”

  “Noise?”

  “A creaking noise.”

  “Now you mention it, yes I did hear something of the kind. Why should John creak?”

  “Corsets.”

  “Corsets?”

  “Haven’t you noticed that his waist doesn’t bulge as it used to?”

  “Yes – but why?”

  “He’s after an heiress. That’s what he means by solving his problems. And I’ll tell you another thing. My valet has been talking to his valet, and Raskin has some interesting tales to tell.”

  “About corsets presumably.”

  “That too. But also about this big win at cards. That was a very fishy business.”

  “You mean he didn’t win at all?”

  “Oh, he won all right. But not money. Title deeds.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone staked the title deeds to his home, and that’s what John won. Ever since, the loser has been going round screaming that John cheated, but there’s no proof.”

  “Oh dear God!” Charles groaned. “Is there no end to it? If he doesn’t disgrace the family one way, he does it in another. Where will it end?”

  “I told you, it will end in a great heiress. He’s set on it.”

  “Then why come here? There are no great heiresses in this part of the world.”

  “But there are. According to Raskin he’s set his cap at Lady Cliona, one of the wealthiest women in the country.” There was a silence. Then Charles gave a hard, mirthless laugh.

  “You’re out of your mind, Freddy. Lady Cliona is practically penniless.”

  “Did she tell you that?”

  “Yes – well – as good as. Her father gambled away every penny and left her stranded when he died. If it hadn’t been for her uncle –”

  “Exactly,” said Freddy triumphantly. “The uncle, who amassed a huge fortune travelling all over the world – China, Egypt, India, America. Apparently he had a passion for gold and collected it everywhere.

  “When he died he left a vast collection of solid gold pieces. Some went to museums, but the bulk was left to Lady Cliona. They say she’s worth about two million pounds. I say Charles, are you all right? You’ve gone a very nasty colour.”

  “My God!” Charles groaned. “What have I done? What have I done?”

  He sat down and buried his head in his hands.

  “Well, what have you done, old chap? Nothing dreadful, surely?”

  “Nothing dreadful? Only the worst thing in the world.”

  “Would this have anything to do with the other night?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The night of the party. I found her sitting outside on the steps, crying. What had you done to make her cry, Charles?”

  “Mind your own business!” said Charles savagely.

  “As bad as that, eh?”

  “Look, my family has been at me to marry money and I had finally come to believe that it was my duty. I had no right to go into the garden with a girl I believed penniless, no right to – no rig
ht to do any of the things that I did.”

  “What exactly did you do?”

  “Freddy, I’m warning you – !”

  “All right, all right. I suppose you made love to her and then had an attack of scruples. The question is, was she crying about the love-making or the scruples?”

  “One more word out of you –”

  “My guess is, the scruples,” said Freddy, hopping nimbly out of reach. “So why worry? All you have to do is go back to her and explain that you got everything wrong.”

  “Really? And what do I tell her now, Freddy? Do I say that I turned away from her when I thought she had no money, but now I know she’s fabulously rich, that’s all right? Could any man with a vestige of honour say such a thing to any woman, even one he didn’t – ?”

  “Even one he didn’t love?” asked Freddy.

  “Never mind that. Don’t you see that this news has put it out of my power ever to speak to her about love?”

  “No I don’t see it. Either you love the girl or you don’t.”

  “But how can she ever believe that now? You suggest I parade myself before her as a common fortune hunter?” Charles asked and added sadly,

  “It’s too late, Freddy. Now she can never trust a word I say. Everything is over.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  From his place of concealment in the trees, Charles watched while the front door of the Lord Lieutenant’s house opened and John emerged with Cliona. A groom had brought his horse around. John took the reins and waited until the man had departed before taking Cliona’s hand and lifting it to his lips.

  He kissed the back of her hand, then, before Charles’s furious eyes, turned it over and kissed the palm. Lightning stirred as his rider’s knees tightened involuntarily.

  “Steady, boy,” said Charles gently.

  Since the morning he had come across John and Cliona in the wood and watched them in secret, he had taken care never to do so again. But today it was essential.

  He kept well back until John had galloped past him. Cliona was still there in the doorway, watching the departing figure. She looked enchanting in a dark grey riding habit that showed off her tiny waist and flared hips.

  They must have been riding together, Charles thought. And when the ride was over they had come back here to spend time talking and enjoying each other’s company.