Love is Triumphant (4 page)

"It's the last thing I can do for her," she said fervently. "She also asked me to protect
his
reputation. I wonder if I'll be able to force myself to do that."

But the next moment she told herself,

"Of course I can do it. I promised her. I said that I was her friend, and that's what I will be. Whatever it takes."

She changed out of her night dress into the plainest day clothes she possessed. Then she drew her hair back severely against her head, and tied it in place.

The person who looked back at her from the mirror was a stranger to her, no longer a school girl but a bitter, angry woman, driven by grim determination.

From the window she looked down at the stones below. A doctor had arrived and Miss Draycott's body was being lifted and carried away.

Taking a deep breath, Rosina left her room and went downstairs to where the Headmistress was standing, distraught.

"The doctor has just pronounced Miss Draycott dead," she wept.

"I know," Rosina said. "She was dead before I left her."

"Ah yes, you were there first to reach her, weren't you? But how?"

"I was taking a little fresh air in the garden. I saw everything."

"You saw her fall?" Miss Baxter asked eagerly. "It was an accident, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was an accident," Rosina replied quietly. "She cried out and tried to save herself, but was unable to do so."

"Thank heavens!" Miss Baxter declared fervently. "I mean that it was an accident. A scandal would be so terrible for the school."

"And for poor Miss Draycott," Rosina reminded her coldly. "Think of her reputation."

"She is dead and cannot be harmed now. People would never forget a scandal, but, with luck, they will forget Miss Draycott."

She hurried away, full of agitation, leaving Rosina standing there.

'I
will not forget her', she thought. 'Ever. And I will avenge her. I don't know how, but I swear that I will.'

A noise outside drew her to the window just in time to see a rider galloping out of the school grounds. She threw herself onto her bed and lay listening.

Presently there were footsteps outside and the door of Miss Draycott's room was opening. Somebody was going inside to look for clues to the tragedy.

'But you won't find any,' Rosina thought exultantly. 'At least I have protected her that much.'

But she knew that was all she could do for the poor heart-broken woman.

As that realisation swept over her, Rosina buried her face in the pillow and sobbed for her friend who was now beyond grief or joy, or help.

*

Next morning Rosina was summoned to Miss Baxter's office.

Before she went downstairs, she tried the door to what had been Miss Draycott's room. As she had expected, it was locked.

Grimly she went downstairs.

"I wanted you to know that I sent a letter by hand to your parents last night, saying that after your upsetting experience you would prefer to return home."

"But my parents are in London," Rosina said.

"So I understand, but I received a message to say that somebody will call to collect you this morning."

'You can't wait to be rid of me,' Rosina thought. 'I've seen too much and it makes you uncomfortable. But then I never want to see this place again.'

Aloud she said,

"I will see to my packing."

A maid came to help her, and between the two of them they finished everything by the time a closed carriage came into view. Rosina wondered who had come for her.

The carriage drew up and she watched as the door opened and a man stepped out.

Then she drew in her breath sharply.

It was Sir John.

Memories of their last meeting came flooding back to her. She had told him a part of Miss Draycott's story. How hard and unsympathetic he had been.

He was the last man on earth that she would have chosen to see at this moment.

But when she went down a few minutes later, she was careful not to show her feelings.

"Good morning," he said to her gravely. "Miss Baxter has told me what happened last night, and I agree with her that this is an unhappy place for you to remain."

"What does my father say?" Rosina asked.

"He's in London. I happened to be staying overnight at your home to study some of his papers, and collect his mail. I was there when the messenger arrived, and he told me what had happened. I'm leaving for London today, and I thought you'd like to come with me, and rejoin your parents."

"Thank you. I should like that."

As she returned to her room for her hat and coat, her boxes were already being taken away. Before leaving she tried Miss Draycott's door again. This time it opened.

As she had half expected, the room had been stripped of all sign of life. The sheets had gone from the bed, the wardrobe doors were open, showing emptiness inside. All sign of Miss Draycott had been swept away.

"She might never have existed," Rosina said bitterly.

"Yes, it's shocking," said Sir John's voice behind her.

She turned quickly.

"I came up to see if I could be of any help."

"It's too late to help," she said bleakly. "I tried, but I wasn't really any use to her."

"Maybe nobody could have been," he suggested gently.

She turned on him. "We'll never know now, will we?"

"No, I suppose not. If you're ready, we might go now."

There was a strained farewell between herself and Miss Baxter. Then she and Sir John were in the carriage, and it was rumbling away.

For a while nobody spoke, then he said,

"So Miss Draycott has died – the teacher you told me about?"

"Yes," she said in a low, fierce voice. "And she's dead because of him."

"I understood from the Headmistress that it was an accident. She said that you confirmed it."

"I said what Miss Draycott wanted me to say, but the truth is that she took her own life. I saw her do it."

"Dear God!" he said fervently.

"She killed herself because of the man you dared to defend."

"The man I – ?"

"You told me how sensibly he was behaving and how foolish she was to believe in him."

"I wasn't defending him, I was trying to avert a tragedy by putting her on her guard. Sadly I was too late, but honestly, my dear girl, her hopes were unrealistic."

"Of course they were," she said with a bright, hard smile. "It is always unrealistic to place too much faith in a man."

"What exactly happened?" he asked, refusing to be provoked.

"He wrote to her saying that everything was over

between them because he was planning a wealthy marriage. He demanded the return of his letters, and he wouldn't tell her the name of his bride. He made it insultingly plain that he thought she'd cause trouble. Well, she won't cause any trouble now – will she?"

Her voice trembled on the last words and she buried her face in her hands, a prey to violent sobs.

"Rosina," he said, putting his arms about her, and drawing her close. "Poor girl, you've had a terrible time."

"Not me," she sobbed. "She had a terrible time, and now she's dead because of him. And when she lay dying, all she could think of was that he should come to no harm. Not a thought for herself, only for him. Oh, I'm going to make him pay for it."

"Rosina, who is this man?"

She pulled away sharply and stared into his face, her eyes glittering.

"Do you think I'll tell you?"

"I wish you would. If you're thinking of embarking on some plan of private revenge, let me beg you not to."

"To be sure, he's a fellow politician, and you naturally stick together. Doubtless you would like to warn him. But you shall not, because I'll tell you nothing."

"For your own sake, I implore you – "

She lifted her chin and regarded him coolly.

"I don't think we should discuss this any further, Sir John. I expect we'll reach my home soon."

He drew back, slightly alarmed by this aloof young woman.

"I should have explained," he said. "We're not going to your home, but directly to the railway station to catch the train to London. I took the liberty of telling one of the maids to pack all your things, and your trunks are travelling with us."

She knew a pang of dismay. She would have liked to go home first and find a secure hiding place for the things she had removed from Miss Draycott's room.

But on second thoughts, perhaps it would be best to keep them with her.

Then her spirits lifted at the thought of London, with Mama and Papa and the excitement of an election. So much would be happening, and there might be a little relief for her heavy heart.

For the rest of the journey they avoided painful topics, and stayed with the safer subject of politics.

"When exactly will the election be?" Rosina asked.

"Probably not for a few months."

"A few months? As long as that? Surely, if Parliament has been dissolved – "

"It hasn't been. Even after he was defeated, Prime Minister Disraeli is still clinging on because there's a very important bill for Parliamentary reform going through. It extends the vote to men who couldn't vote before, and it breaks up some of the larger constituencies into smaller ones."

"Change the constituencies?" she echoed, alarmed. "Yours and Papa's?"

"As you know, he has East Gradley and I have West Gradley. Now there'll be a new constituency, South Gradley, formed from a bit of his and a bit of mine.

"But there's no danger to us. The area is solid for our party, so we'll get back in, and whoever they nominate for South Gradley will have a nice safe seat.

"The point is that both parties want this bill to succeed, so they won't dissolve Parliament until it's gone through. Then the election will be fought under the new rules."

"How annoying to have to wait."

"Be patient, little hothead. It'll happen by autumn. Your father is quite content with the delay, since it gives us time to plan instead of having to crowd everything into three weeks, as we do with most elections."

There was a slightly awkward silence before he added,

"Since our constituencies lie side by side, and we do much of our planning together, your father has very kindly invited me to stay with your family until the election is over. I hope you have no objection."

At one time Rosina would have been thrilled at the thought of seeing him every day. Now he just seemed like one of the enemy, to be judged almost as harshly as the man who had killed her friend.

But the decision was not hers and so she said politely,

"I would never question my father's arrangements. I am quite certain that he has made a wise choice."

Sir John sighed. "Oh dear. I predict a very chilly summer."

She did not reply, and a few minutes later the train pulled into London. After that the business of securing a cab made further discussion unnecessary.

An hour later they drew up outside a large house in the elegant part of London, called Belgravia, where the Clarendons lived.

When Rosina's parents had overcome their astonishment they were delighted to see her. Sir John explained only that she had witnessed a distressing accident at school, and had been sent home to recover. Then he courteously left the family alone and went up to his room.

In the library a maid served tea and cakes, which Rosina devoured hungrily.

"Sir John is staying with us for a while, my dear," her father explained.

"Yes Papa, he has already told me."

"That will please you I dare say," he added roguishly, for he was a kindly man and an observant one.

But now he was forced to realise that the child he knew had vanished. In her place was a dignified young woman who regarded him with cool amazement.

"Indeed, Papa? Why should you think so?"

"Well, I know you've always liked him."

"I hope I have always been polite to him."

"Oh come now, don't tell me you haven't noticed that he's a very good-looking young man," Sir Elroy said in a rallying voice.

"I consider his looks of no interest whatever."

Faced with this queenly, offended creature, he began to realise that he had committed a faux pas, although he was still not quite certain how.

"Well – I was only saying – that when a young lady – that is – "

He stumbled into an embarrassed silence. Rosina seized his hands.

"Dearest Papa, let me beg you never to speak in such a way again. If Sir John should get to know of it my position would be intolerable."

"And it would be quite inappropriate," her mother said. "I'm sure Sir John is an excellent young man and all very well in his way, but – "

Her frown indicated that where her daughter was concerned, she had much larger ambitions. At the same time she gave Rosina a tiny shake of the head, indicating that she would deal with Papa. Sir Elroy, having been put in his place by both his womenfolk, subsided into meek silence.

When they had all drunk a cup of tea and eaten some scones, the matter was past and he felt he might be permitted to speak again.

"The next few months are going to be very exciting, and I'll be glad to have you at home when we start campaigning in earnest."

"Sir John has already explained that the vote will be delayed until the autumn, because of the reform bill," said Rosina.

"That's right. So many more men will have the vote that the canvassing will have to be rethought. John has devised a plan of action that will be most demanding. This is going to be a most vital election, and for the next few months there'll be no time to think about anything else."

"Indeed there will," his wife said indignantly. "Rosina will have her coming out ball, and that's every bit as important as who runs the country."

Sir Elroy begged his wife's pardon and promised not to forget again. But he had an ally in Rosina, who was eagerly anticipating the coming contest.

"Do you really think we're going to win, Papa?"

By 'we' she meant the Liberal party, of which her father was a prominent member, and on whose behalf he held his seat in Parliament.

But she also meant her mother and herself. Politics was a family matter.