An Angel Runs Away (14 page)

He looked at Ula’s wrist, then he spoke quickly in Romany to the others. Ula knew that he was telling them that what she said was true, she had exchanged her blood with a gypsy and was, therefore, as she had claimed, their sister.

Every year a tribe of gypsies had camped in a field next to the Vicarage when they came to Worcestershire for the plum picking.

Her father’s Parish was in the very heart of the plum picking district and Ula had known and talked to the gypsies ever since she was a small child.

It was typical that Daniel Forde should befriend the people who were scorned or feared by the rest of the community.

Those who did not accuse the gypsies of thieving were afraid that they would cast an ‘evil eye’ on them or perhaps steal their children.

Ula’s father had laughed at their fears.

“They are people without a land and yet are a part of the English countryside. I have always found them completely honest except with regard to the wild animals and birds which they think God created for every man.”

However, few people listened to him and the local landowners refused to have the gypsies on their estates although they used them not only for the plum picking but also for gathering in other crops for which they did not have enough local labour when the harvest was ready.

Ula had learnt a little Romany from the gypsies.

Because they were so grateful for her father’s and mother’s kindness, when she was five years old and a son had been born to their chief and her father had christened the child, he said,

“There’s little I can give you, sir, in gratitude for your kindness to me and my people, but if you’ll allow me, I’ll make your daughter my son’s sister by the joining of their blood. Wherever your daughter goes, she’ll always be welcomed and helped by the gypsies and all that they own will be at her disposal.”

Because he spoke with such sincerity, Daniel Forde knew it would have been an insult if he had refused the offer. He had therefore allowed the gypsy chief to make a tiny cut on Ula’s wrist and similarly on his son’s.

Then, as he held their two hands together and their blood mingled, he recited an incantation which had its origin in antiquity.

“Now I am a gypsy, Mama!” Ula had said gleefully.

“You don’t look like one, my darling,” Lady Louise had laughed. “But who knows, one day you may need the gypsies’ help, though as things are, they are far more likely to need ours.”

Ula knew now that the gypsies would help her and it must have been her father who had answered her prayers and brought her to them.

She sat down by the fire and explained why she was running away because she was being forced into a marriage that was repulsive.

They seemed to understand and when she asked them, ‘where are you going?’ she thought before they answered she might have guessed that once again her father had not failed her.

“We’re goin’ to Worcestershire,” one of the gypsies replied. “First there’ll be the potato liftin’, after that the hop pickin’ and then the plums afore we move on.”

“May I beg of you to take me with you?” Ula asked. “I warn you that there may be enquiries about me, so I have to hide.”

“You can hide in our caravans,” one of the gypsy women said, “and as Zokka’s about the same size as you, she’ll find you some clothes.”

“Thank you –
thank – you
!”

Because Ula was so relieved and so very grateful, there were tears in her eyes and her voice broke on the words.

*

The Marquis returned to London very late because, although he had told his grandmother he was dining with the Cavendishes, he should not have used the plural.

It was Lady Georgina Cavendish who was waiting for him when he arrived at the large house that was not far from Epsom.

Lord Cavendish, as he had anticipated, was attending an important debate in the House of Lords.

The Marquis had enjoyed an excellent day’s racing. Two of his horses had come in first and another, which he was trying out for the first time, had run extremely well and, although it was not placed, he had high hopes for its future.

Epsom was a small Racecourse, but he often thought more enjoyable than the larger ones.

It was also convenient for London and he knew that when he finally returned home the roads would be clear and, as it was a moonlit night, his superb horses would not make the journey tedious.

Lady Georgina was looking very attractive, not decorated with her famous rubies, but wearing a necklace of emeralds, which seemed to be reflected in her eyes.

They slanted up a little at the corners, which gave her a mysteriously feline expression which the Marquis had found provocative and alluring ever since he had met her.

And yet tonight, when finally he left her, he thought, although it seemed incredible when she was so beautiful, that somehow she had proved disappointing.

She was certainly everything that any man might have desired from a passionate point of view. Yet when he left her boudoir and she clung to him, her warm body seeming to merge with his, he suddenly realised that he was impatient to return to London.

“When shall I see you again, my wonderful lover?” she whispered in her low seductive voice which many men had found irresistible.

“I am not certain of my plans,” the Marquis replied evasively.

“I will let you know when George is away next,” she said, “and anyway, I am coming to London the day after tomorrow for the ball at Devonshire House.”

She waited for him to say how much he would be looking forward to seeing her, but the Marquis was actually thinking that Ula would enjoy the ball at one of the most attractive and impressive houses in London.

Georgina pressed herself a little closer, and pulling the Marquis’s head down to hers, whispered,

“I love you! I love you, Drogo! If I don’t see you again, I shall die!”

This was an over-dramatic protestation that the Marquis had heard many times before and he merely commented,

“You are far too young and beautiful to die, as you well know.”

“I cannot live without you – ”

Now her voice was even more passionate than before and the Marquis unlocked her clinging arms and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

“Go to bed, Georgina and, if you must dream of me, don’t talk in your sleep.”

Before she could prevent him, he had pulled open the door, smiled at her, then was hurrying down the passage as if he was escaping from something which no longer interested him.

Georgina Cavendish walked back to the sofa to fling herself down once again on the soft satin cushions.

It was always the same, she thought, the Marquis left her before she was ready for him to go and she had the frightened feeling that she might not see him again.

“I want him, oh, God, how much I want him!” she murmured.

Then she closed her eyes sensually as she remembered the feelings he had evoked in her.

The Marquis, however, as he drove his high-perched phaeton along the main road towards London, was thinking that he was no longer interested in Georgina as he had been and it would be a mistake to try to fan a dying fire.

He was accustomed to having his love affairs come to an end, but usually not so completely, as he realised unmistakably that this one had done.

He could not explain it to himself, because Georgina was undoubtedly very beautiful, very sophisticated and very experienced in the arts of love.

He found himself thinking of Ula’s little flower-like face and of how much she resembled an angel – a description he certainly could not apply to the sensuous Georgina Cavendish.

He thought with satisfaction that, as he would not be going to Epsom again for some time, he would not have to explain why he had not been to dine with her and it would be far easier to avoid her in London.

Then he was thinking once again about Ula and remembering what a sensation she had caused at his ball.

He was quite certain that by this time there would be a mountain of invitations waiting for her in Berkeley Square. She would be ‘the talk of the town’, while Sarah Chessington-Crewe would be forced to take a back place.

He expected to feel elated at the thought, until he remembered how Ula had said that he spoiled himself by being vindictive.

“She is right – of course she is right,” he sighed beneath his breath.

At the same time it seemed to him extraordinary that a girl of her age should not only think such a thing but be brave enough to say it.

He wished now that he had left Georgina Cavendish directly after dinner so that he could have seen Ula before she went to bed.

But he knew that by the time he reached Berkeley Square she and the Duchess would have been in bed for hours and he would have to wait until the morning.

He drove his horses with a flourish up to the front door of his house, certain that he had done the journey in record time and had once again proved that his horses were thereby superior to anybody else’s.

Two grooms were waiting and, as they ran to the horses’ heads, the Marquis threw down the reins and climbing down from the phaeton, walked over the red carpet into the lighted hall.

It seemed to him that there was an unusual number of servants waiting for him, considering it was so late and then, as Dalton, the butler, hurried forward he realised that something was wrong.

“Thank goodness you’re back, my Lord!” the butler exclaimed.

The Marquis, holding out his high hat to a footman, asked sharply,

“Why? What has happened?”

“I think, my Lord, I should speak to your Lordship privately.”

The Marquis realised that the footmen all had expressions of consternation on their faces and he was also aware that the housemaids, very unusually at this time of night, were peering over the bannisters on the second floor.

Because he knew that it was a mistake to ask questions with the staff listening, he walked quickly towards the library and, as Dalton followed him, he asked sharply,

“What has occurred?”

“It’s Miss Ula, my Lord. She’s been taken away!”

As the butler spoke, the Marquis felt as if it was something he might have anticipated and he asked grimly,

“What has happened? Tell me exactly!”

“The Earl of Chessington-Crewe, my Lord, arrived here soon after eleven o’clock with a Bow Street Runner.”

“
A Bow Street Runner
?” the Marquis ejaculated. “What the devil did he come for?”

“I think, my Lord –” Dalton began pompously, then went on, “in fact, my Lord, I happened to overhear what his Lordship says to Miss Ula.”

The Marquis knew this meant that he had been deliberately listening, but he did not interrupt, and Dalton went on,

“His Lordship informed Miss Ula that she was to return with him immediately and that, if she refused to do so, the Bow Street Runner would take her before the Magistrates, where she would be informed that she had to obey her Guardian.”

The Marquis made an inarticulate sound, while Dalton continued,

“He further informed Miss Ula, my Lord, that if this happened, he would also bring a charge against your Lordship for the abduction of a minor, the penalty for which he says is transportation.”

“Good God!” the Marquis exclaimed furiously. “Are there no depths of iniquity that man will not descend to?”

Dalton hesitated for a moment and then he said,

“There’s something else, my Lord.”

“What is it?”

“While the Earl was in here with Miss Ula, my Lord, the footman on his carriage who came with him from the country told Henry and John, who were on duty in the hall, that Miss Ula was to be married by Special Licence to a foreign Prince. They didn’t catch his name, my Lord.”

For a moment the Marquis seemed speechless.

Then he exploded,

“So that is what he is planning! I can hardly believe it!”

“The Earl’s footman, my Lord, seemed to think that the marriage would take place tomorrow morning.”

“That is something I shall definitely prevent.”

“If you’ll excuse me saying so, my Lord,” Dalton said, “I can’t help thinking that the foreign Prince is the gentleman who called the day after the ball.”

He paused before he continued,

“As I know the butler who’s working at the Turkish Embassy, in fact he’s a distant relative of mine, I thinks I should warn your Lordship that Prince Hasin’s not a fit husband for any young lady and especially anyone as gentle and kind as Miss Ula.”

“I am well aware of that,” the Marquis said.

“My relative has told me tales of His Highness’s behaviour,” Dalton went on, “which are so unpleasant, so disgusting, that I would not soil my lips by repeating them to your Lordship.”

He looked at the Marquis almost pleadingly as he added,

“There’s never been a young lady come to this house, my Lord, who’s been kinder or more pleasant to every one of us, including Willy, whose finger she healed and who thinks she’s an angel sent from Heaven to help him.”

The Marquis thought it was extraordinary how everyone high or low should react in the same way to one young woman, but he merely asked,

“Will you order Crusader to be brought round from the stables in an hour’s time, Dalton. I want a drink, a bath and I will change into my riding clothes. The phaeton is to follow me.”

There was a smile on Dalton’s lips as if this was what he wanted to hear as he hurried to obey his Master.

The Marquis looked at the clock over the mantelpiece and reckoned that he could reach Chessington Hall by about seven o’clock.

It was most unlikely that Ula’s marriage would take place before that and, if he rode across country, he would have time to plan out exactly how he could save her from Prince Hasin.

When the Marquis was really angry, those who knew him well were aware that he became icily calm and his voice seemed devoid of emotion, but had the sting of a whiplash.

As he now moved towards the door, not hurrying, but, as if he had a sense of purpose which was more effective than speed, Dalton said,

“I begs your Lordship’s pardon, I forgot to say that Her Grace asked whatever time you returned, you’d go and see her.”