The Glittering Lights (Bantam Series No. 12) (13 page)

“But of course,” the Duke replied.

It was nice of him, Cassandra thought, not to ask questions, not to fuss, but to assist Nancy Wood out through the door and into the carriage.

She sat back in a corner and closed her eyes.

Cassandra sat down beside her and the Duke seated himself opposite them.

Nancy gave her address in a far away voice which made Cassandra think she might faint again at any moment.

They drove in silence and, as Nancy Wood had said, it was not far to go.

The streets at the back of Drury Lane were narrow, squalid and dirty. The house at which they stopped was certainly far from prepossessing.

“Have you a key?” the Duke asked.

With some difficulty Nancy Wood found it in her reticule.

The Duke opened the door and with Cassandra’s assistance they got the sick woman out of the carriage and onto the pavement.

“I had better take her inside,” Cassandra said in a low voice.

“Can you manage?” he asked.

She smiled at him.

“I am sure I can.”

She put her arm around Nancy Wood and took her inside the house which had a straight staircase running up almost perpendicular to the first floor.

The place smelt of dirt, gas and cooking. As they laboriously climbed the staircase, Cassandra could not help thinking how squalid it was.

The stairs could not have been scrubbed for years and the linoleum which covered them was full of holes.

Nancy Wood had another key which opened the door of a back room. She lit a candle which revealed an unmade bed and a terrible state of untidiness.

There were clothes hanging on the outside of a broken wardrobe. There were stockings, underclothes, petticoats and gowns thrown on a chair and also on the bed.

Shoes were scattered along the side of the wall and the dressing-table was littered with paraphernalia of every sort.

There were hair-brushes that needed washing, combs without teeth, grease-paint, mascara and artificial flowers which looked as if they should have been thrown away years ago.

“It is in rather a mess,” Nancy Wood said weakly.

“Never mind about it now,” Cassandra answered. “Get into bed. You will feel better in the morning, and if not, you must see a doctor.”

“There is ... nothing a doctor can do for ... me,” Nancy said.

She sat down on the crumpled bed and her whole body seemed to sag dejectedly.

“Why? What is wrong with you?” Cassandra asked.

“I’m having a baby,” Nancy Wood answered and burst into tears.

CHAPTER SIX

Cassandra came down the steep stairs and saw the Duke waiting for her below.

He looked up at her with a worried expression on his face.

“You have been a long time.”

“She is ... ill,” Cassandra answered, “and I do not ... know what to ... do.”

She spoke hesitatingly. When she reached his side he asked: “What is wrong with her?”

Cassandra did not answer. Then, as she realised he was waiting, she said uncomfortably, a blush deepening the colour in her cheeks:

“I ... cannot ... tell you.”

“I suppose she is having a baby?”

The Dukes words brought the colour flooding into her face and her eyes widened as she exclaimed in surprise:

“How did you ... guess?”

“There is nothing you can do,” he said sharply.

“But she is so ... distressed.”

The Duke seemed to consider for a moment. Then he said:

“Did you leave her any money?”

“I did not think of it,” Cassandra replied.

“Wait here!”

He started up the staircase.

“No! you cannot go to her!” Cassandra cried. “She is ... in bed.”

The Duke appeared not to have heard her. Before she could say any more, he had reached the landing, and she heard him knock at Nancy Wood’s door and walk in.

Cassandra waited irresolutely, not sure what she should do.

She was shocked at the idea of the Duke going into the untidy, squalid room where she had helped Nancy into bed, but she was much more shocked at having spoken to him of her having a baby.

No lady would have thought of saying anything so intimate to a man. Even with her contemporaries, a married woman would only talk of being in an “interesting condition” or of “expecting an addition to the family.”

To discuss such personal matters with anyone but her mother or her husband, was to be incredibly coarse and crude.

The actual arrival of a child into the world was to Cassandra, as to average young women of her age, wrapped in as deep a mystery as the manner in which it was conceived.

The fact that Nancy Wood had blurted out her condition had struck her with almost the same effect as a bombshell!

She did not know what to say! While Nancy wept bitterly, she could only offer some practical assistance in helping her to undress and mutter words of consolation which even to her own ears sounded ineffective.

It seemed incredible to Cassandra that the Duke should have guessed so quickly what was wrong, and when in a few minutes he came down the stairs, she found it hard to meet his eyes.

He did not speak. He merely took her by the arm, opened the front door, and when they were outside assisted her into the carriage.

He gave Cassandra’s address to the Coachman and the horses set off at a good pace, since the streets, although narrow, were at this hour of the evening empty of pedestrians.

“I did not think of giving her ... money,” Cassandra said after a moment. “It was stupid of me, but in any case I had none with me.”

“There is nothing else you can do,” the Duke said firmly.

“I must try to help her,” Cassandra argued. “She cannot go back to her family.”

“Why not?”

“Because she ran away from home to go on the stage. Her father, who is a Parson, is Vicar of a Parish in Wiltshire. She has not communicated with him since she came to London.”

“There is nowhere else for her to go,” the Duke said in what Cassandra thought was a hard voice.

“There must be ... somewhere,” she answered desperately.

“You cannot entangle yourself with this chorus girl. You never saw her before tonight, and it is just unfortunate that you should have happened to be there when she fainted.”

“I think you are being hard-hearted, and perhaps rather cruel,” Cassandra said. “She is in trouble and someone has to help her.”

“I have left her some money,” the Duke replied, “and I will take her more tomorrow.”

“That is very kind of you,” Cassandra said, her voice softening. “When she can no longer ... act, she will have to live somewhere. I doubt whether, even if she wished to keep her ... baby in that terrible little room, the Landlord would permit it.”

The Duke was silent and after a moment Cassandra said:

“I thought that the ... father of the child would help her. But she said ... something I did not ... understand.”

“What was that?”

“She said she did not ... know who he ... was! How could it be ... possible that she does not ... know?”

The Duke did not reply.

He turned to look at Cassandra’s profile in the light from the street lamps. Her straight little nose was etched against the darkness of the carriage, as was the soft curve of her lips and the firm line of her chin.

“How old are you?” he asked unexpectedly.

Cassandra thought he was deliberately changing the subject, and she did not know what to reply.

To say she was only twenty would, she thought, make her seem too young to have played many parts on the stage. On the other hand she felt a strong reluctance to lie to the Duke.

She had already told him so many falsehoods, and she wished now she could be frank and that there were no secrets between them.

“I have always been told,” she answered at length, in what she hoped was a light tone but which sounded very immature, “that it is extremely ... rude to ask a lady ... her age.”

“You must accept my apologies,” the Duke said.

They drove on in silence and it was not long before they reached Bury Street. The footman on the box of the carriage alighted to arouse the night-porter.

As they waited for the man to open the door the Duke said:

“Try not to worry, Sandra. I will call for you tomorrow at twelve o’clock and, if it pleases you, we will go to see this woman before we proceed to the country.”

“I would like to do that,” Cassandra said. “Thank you.”

The night-porter had opened the door and Cassandra put her hands down to lift her skirt so that she could step out on to the pavement.

“You will be all right?” the Duke asked. “I do not like to think of you alone in that flat.”

“I am not alone,” Cassandra answered without thinking.

She did not notice that he stiffened, nor did she see the strange expression on his face.

Cassandra was ready just before twelve noon the following morning, but it had been a tremendous effort.

First of all she had had to explain to her Aunt that she was going away until Monday. Lady Fladbury was curious.

“Who are these friends with whom you will be staying?” she enquired.

Cassandra thought it best to tell the truth.

“I have been invited to Lord Carwen’s house, which is only about three-quarters of an hour out of London.”

“The Carwen’s?” Lady Fladbury exclaimed. “I thought Her Ladyship was seldom in England. She prefers Paris, being half-French. I have never met her, but I heard she is a beautiful woman and Lord Carwen has the reputation of being extremely gay.”

“He is quite old,” Cassandra said, thinking that made it sound more respectable.

“He is only about forty!” Lady Fladbury retorted. “Of course that seems old to you, but I dare say there will be a number of young people in the house-party. Enjoy yourself, my dear!”

“I am sure I shall,” Cassandra answered, feeling she had jumped the first fence.

Hannah had been far more difficult.

“If you’re staying in a decent house, Miss Cassandra, why aren’t you taking me?” she demanded angrily. “You know as well as I do that where you have been invited before it has always been understood that you bring your Lady’s-Maid.”

“Yes, I know, Hannah,” Cassandra answered, “but this is a large house-party and I think they find visiting maids a nuisance.”

“I don’t know what your mother would say, I don’t really! Going off alone like this!” Hannah said. “And if it’s all above-board and respectable why can’t His Lordship fetch you from here?”

“Please, Hannah, help me,” Cassandra pleaded. “I told you I was acting a part, and I promise you there is nothing wrong in the place where I am going. Aunt Eleanor knows all about Lord and Lady Carwen, and if there was anything wrong she would have told me about it.”

“Well, I don’t like it and that’s a fact!” Hannah said positively. ‘While I’m able to keep my eye on you, I know you can’t get into any real mischief, but to stay in a strange place without me— Heaven knows what might happen!”

“What could happen?” Cassandra asked. “And it is only for two nights. Come to the flat on Monday morning and wait for me. If I am not there before luncheon, I shall certainly arrive soon afterwards.”

Grumbling, muttering to herself, and being extremely disagreeable, Hannah began to pack the clothes she thought Cassandra would require.

Then they took the trunks to the flat in Bury Street and she packed Cassandra’s theatrical clothes under protest.

On one thing Hannah was adamant and made such a scene that Cassandra was obliged to give in to her.

She insisted that Cassandra should travel to the country in one of her own gowns covered with a cloak which was both warm and decorative.

“You’ll catch your death of cold in these new flimsy garments in which no respectable young woman would be seen,” Hannah said aggressively. “Besides, you’ll look a figure of fun arriving to stay at a country house in something that’s only fit to be worn on the other side of the footlights.”

Finally, because it was too exhausting to argue further, Cassandra gave in and wore the gown of sapphire blue velvet which had cost her father a large sum at Jay’s.

It had a velvet bonnet in the same colour trimmed demurely only with little bows of ribbon.

It made her look very young, but it also threw into prominence the dazzling whiteness of her skin and accentuated the gold lights in her red hair.

Cassandra remembered consolingly that people thought she looked theatrical without the addition of the gowns she had bought at Chasemore’s. She doubted if the Duke would notice any appreciable difference from her appearance on the previous day.

Besides the difficulties of getting ready, moving her trunks to Bury Street, and keeping Hannah from open rebellion, she had a very special letter to write.

Once again she forged her father’s hand-writing on the engraved writing-paper she had brought from Yorkshire, as she wrote to Tattersall’s Sales-Room instructing them to buy all the Duke’s horses when they came up for sale on Monday.

As she signed her father’s signature, Cassandra knew that this action put a time limit on the length of her stay in London.

She would have to arrive home before he received a notification from Tattersall’s of their purchases for him together with the bill for them.

She was quite certain in her own mind that she was only anticipating her father’s wishes in buying the Duke’s horses; but at the same time she was well aware she would have some explaining to do, and that she would have to do it in person.

Even to herself, she would not face up to what she expected to happen between today and Tuesday morning when she must go back to Yorkshire.

Once again she was conscious of being swept along on a flowing tide. Once again she was aware that something tremendous was happening, but she could not formulate it to herself.

She only knew that she loved the Duke overwhelmingly.

Every hour she was away from him seemed to pass so slowly that it might have been a year, a century. But when she was with him, time flashed by so that the moment of parting seemed always to be upon them.

He had said that for him “the sands were running out,” and Cassandra felt the same expression was true for herself—and yet what did she hope or fear for the future?

She despatched a footman from Park Lane to Tattersalls Sales-Rooms before she travelled to the flat in a closed carriage with Hannah.

“I can’t imagine what the Coachman’ll be thinking of us going to such a place,” Hannah said sourly.

“I hope you told the servants that I had a friend I visited in Bury Street.”

“I’m not soiling my mouth with a lot of lies, Miss Cassandra,” Hannah said tartly, “and I’ve always believed least said, soonest mended.’ ”

It was true that Hannah was not a gossip, Cassandra thought, but she too had taken a violent dislike to the flat and she knew she would be extremely glad when she could see the last of it.

She left all her trunks but one in the Hall. The porter carried up only the round topped piece in which she wished Hannah to pack the gowns from Chasemore’s.

Hannah sniffed and muttered all the time she was folding them, and just as she finished, Cassandra, who had been watching from the window, exclaimed:
“The carriage is here! Oh, I think there are two of them.”

She had not told Hannah who was fetching her, and now she hurried down the stairs to greet the Duke as he stepped into the Hall.

“I am ready,” she said with a hit of joy in her voice.

She saw that his eyes rested on her admiringly and was glad that after all she had conceded a victory to Hannah by wearing the sapphire outfit.