The Glittering Lights (Bantam Series No. 12) (18 page)

Then with a little cry she turned towards the door.

“He will r ... realise I have c ... come ... here. I ... left the door of the ... Dressing-Room o ... open.”

For a moment they looked at each other. Then Cassandra whispered:

“Hide me ... he must not ... find me...!”

“No, of course not,” the Duke said, and his voice was calm and matter-of-fact.

“Shall I g ... get into ... the w ... wardrobe?”

Even as she spoke they heard footsteps, and swiftly the Duke opened the cupboard in the panelling into which Hawkins had put his shoes.

Without making a sound, Cassandra slipped past him and he closed the door behind her.

He hardly had time to take the few steps back to the hearth before the door of the room opened and Lord Carwen stood there.

He too was wearing a long robe over his night-shirt. The dark red of it seemed to echo the flush on his heavy face, and to accentuate the suspicion in his eyes.

“Hello, Carwen,” the Duke exclaimed in a surprised tone. “Is anything wrong?”

Lord Carwen looked around the room.

Then as if he spoke deliberately choosing his words with care he replied:

“I came to see if you were quite comfortable, Varro. I hope you are being properly looked after?”

“I have my Valet with me.”

“Yes, of course,” Lord Carwen said. “But my staff are often extremely careless about details. I suppose there are hangers in your wardrobe?”

As he spoke he pulled open the door and glanced inside. Then he shut it again and moving across the room looked behind the heavy damask curtains which covered the window.

“I am always finding sash-cords broken and—blinds which do not work,” he muttered.

“I have always thought that everything in your house was perfection,” the Duke remarked.

Lord Carwen came and stood beside him in front of the fire.

“If there is any—suggestion of your leaving tomorrow,” he said, “I hope you will remember that I particularly want you here for dinner.”

“But of course,” the Duke answered. “I thought Sandra and I were staying until Monday.”

“You are!” Lord Carwen said positively.

He looked at the Duke for a moment. Then he said:

“By the way, Varro, I rather fancy little Sandra, and quite frankly, my dear boy, you cannot afford her!”

The Duke did not answer and after a moment Lord Carwen went on:

“Soiled doves of her type prove very expensive, as I am sure you know. I am prepared to offer her a house of mine which has recently become vacant in St. Johns Wood, and of course her own carriage.”

“Have you suggested to Sandra that she should become your mistress?” the Duke asked and there was a steely note in his voice.

“She is at the moment showing a provocative reluctance,” Lord Carwen admitted, “which, needless to say, has exactly the effect she intends! It increases my ardour and my determination to possess her in the end!”

He laughed and it was not a pleasant sound.

“Women are all the same, Varro. They all believe that to play ‘hard-to-get’ increases their price, and in the majority of cases it does!”

“You sound very sure of yourself,” the Duke said. He spoke slowly with an intentional lack of expression.

“I am sorry to cut you out, dear boy,” Lord Carwen smiled, “but I can assure you that your interest in this little butterfly was bound to be short-lived.”

He paused to say impressively:

“Diamonds are expensive, but very rewarding, as our friend Lily knows! Sandra is well aware on which side her bread is buttered and I feel quite certain you will not put any obstacles in my way.”

“Are you so certain of that?” the Duke asked.

“Quite certain!” Lord Carwen replied positively. “I could make things very difficult for you, Varro. Like the villain in a melodrama, I can always foreclose on the mortgage, or refuse to extend your loan!”

He laughed again.

“But I do not think there need be any dramatics between us. Just fade out of the picture where Sandra is concerned! I shall take your place very ably and with an expertise which at your age you undoubtedly lack.”

“Perhaps the lady in question might have something to say about it,” the Duke suggested.

“She may prevaricate a little,” Lord Carwen replied. “She was astute enough this evening to refuse a diamond bracelet I offered her —doubtless holding out for the necklace, the ear-rings and the brooch to go with it! However, I consider it to be worth my while to pursue the matter. So as far as you are concerned, Varro, it is good-bye.”

“You have made yourself very clear,” the Duke said.

There was an ice in his voice that Lord Carwen did not pretend to misunderstand.

“Look elsewhere,” he said putting his hand on the Dukes shoulder, “and you will find me as accommodating in the future as I have been in the past. I am a good friend, Varro, but a bad enemy! Good-night!”

He walked across the room as he spoke, opened the door and closed it behind him.

The Duke waited. Then, as he saw the door in the panelling open, he held his fingers to his lips.

He stood quite still until some seconds later he heard footsteps going down the passage.

Only then did he cross to the door and turn the key in the lock.

He turned round to see Cassandra, having come from her hiding-place, standing white-faced and trembling, her eyes on his.

Then she moved towards him and hid her face against his shoulder.

“Take me ... away! Take me away now ... at once!” she pleaded.

The fear in her voice was very obvious and the Duke could feel her body trembling beneath the fine lawn of her night-gown.

He put his arms round her and heard her whisper, her voice muffled against his shoulder: “I did not... know ... I did not ... understand ... that anyone could be ... like that ... could say such ... things!”

The Duke reached out towards the bed and pulled off the silk coverlet.

Wrapping it round Cassandra’s shoulders like a shawl, he moved her towards the fire and sat her down, almost as if she were a child or a doll, in the wing-backed arm-chair.

She looked at him wide-eyed, her face very pale, and her hands which had clasped the bed-spread around her were shaking.

“Take me ... away!”

“I will do that,” the Duke answered, speaking for the first time. “But there are some questions I want to ask you.”

“Q ... questions?”

Her eyes were dark with fear.

“Yes, and I want the truth, Sandra.”

She did not answer, surprised by the sternness of his face and the manner in which his eyes looked into hers. He seemed to be seeking, searching into the very depths of her heart.

“What is ... it?” she asked, more frightened than she had been before.

“Who was with you in your flat last night?”

“My ... maid.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes ... Hannah was with me ... she is always with me ... when I am in the ... flat.”

“Have you ever had a lover?” The Duke’s words seemed to vibrate through the air.

For a moment Cassandra did not comprehend what he meant. Then the colour flooded over her pale face, rising from her chin up to her forehead to recede again, leaving her paler than she had been before.

“N ... no ...of course not ... how c ... could you think such a ... how c ... could you ... imagine ...?”

The words came brokenly between her lips. It seemed to her that he thought of her as if she were Nancy.

There was an expression on the Duke’s face which she did not understand. Then he said, although now his tone was not so fierce: “Where did you get your jewellery? Who gave it to you?”

“My father ... except for the pearls ... they belong to my ... mother.”

The Duke looked at her for a long moment and then he said quietly: “I believe you! Oh, my darling, you do not realise what I have been imagining, how much it has tortured me!”

He saw that she was so bemused by what had occurred that she did not really take in what he was saying. Then in a tone of voice which was now land and comforting, he said:

“I will take you away, but not tonight. We will leave first thing tomorrow morning. Have you brought a riding-habit with you?”

“Y ... yes.”

“Then we will rise early, borrow two horses from His Lordship without asking his permission, and ride across country. There is something I wish to show you.”

“Could we go ... now?”

The Duke shook his head.

“It is too late and might cause comment amongst the servants. But I promise you we will leave before anyone else in the house-party is awake.”

He saw a light come into Cassandra’s eyes. Then like a child who was still frightened of the dark, she said frantically:

“I cannot ... go back to my ... room ... I cannot ... sleep ... there.”

“No, of course not,” the Duke answered. “Wait here a moment.” He walked to the side of the bed, lit a candle and carrying it in his hand opened another door.

He was gone only a moment or two. When he returned he said: “Come with me!”

She rose to her feet, still clutching the bed-spread around her. The silk of it rustled as she walked towards him.

Without touching her he led the way across the Sitting-Room which she had suspected was next to his through another door which led into a Dressing-Room.

There was a large comfortable bed, but it was not so impressive as the one in the room which the Duke was using.

The Duke set the candle down on a bed-side table, then walked across the room to turn the key in the door which opened onto the corridor.

“Now listen, Sandra,” he said. “When I have gone, lock the door behind me. Do you understand? You will be quite safe here and no-one can possibly disturb you until the morning.”

Cassandra glanced around as if to convince herself that he was speaking the truth. Then she said nervously:

“Will you ... leave the door of your ... room open, just in ... case I am ... frightened?”

“It will be open,” the Duke promised with a faint smile.

He looked at her.

In the candle-light she was very young and very vulnerable.

“You will be quite safe,” he said reassuringly. “Tomorrow morning I will knock on the door at about half-past six. When you are dressed, we will go down to the stables, get our horses and be away long before anyone else has been called.”

“Can we ... really do ... that?”

“We will do it!” he promised. “But we have a long ride ahead of us, so try to sleep. For I do not want you to collapse on the way!”

“I will not do that,” Cassandra answered.

“Then good-night,” the Duke said, “and lock the door behind me.”

For a moment they looked into each other’s eyes. Then abruptly he turned away and without saying another word left the room.

In the Sitting-Room he stood listening until he heard the sound of the key turning in the lock.

With a sigh he walked on into his own bed-room.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘We have escaped!’ Cassandra told herself triumphantly as she and the Duke rode their horses away from the Stables, and, keeping out of sight of the house, moved into the Park.

The morning was sunny and fresh and the horses were frisky, so for the time being there was no chance for conversation.

But Cassandra was exultant to know that she was again alone with the Duke and free from the menace of Lord Carwen.

She had thought it would be impossible to sleep last night. But she had been already very tired when she went to bed, and the shock of what occurred later naturally had taken its toll of her strength.

Instead therefore of lying awake as she had expected, fearful and apprehensive, she had slept dreamlessly until she was awakened by a knock at the door.

For one second her fears came flooding back over her, and then she realised that day-light was coming through the sides of the curtains.

“Are you awake, Sandra?” she heard the Duke ask softly.

She got out of bed and picked up the silk counterpane in which he had wrapped her the night before. She put it once again round her shoulders and going to the door unlocked it.

He was standing in the Sitting-Room fully dressed and wearing riding-breeches.

“It is half past six.”

She smiled at him and he wondered how many other women of his acquaintance would have been quite unselfconscious about their looks at that hour of the morning.

Cassandra’s red hair was tumbled; her eyes were still sleepy; and there was a faint flush on her cheeks.

“I have looked into your bed-room,” the Duke said quietly, “and you can feel quite safe. Will it take you long to get dressed?”

“I will be as quick as I can,” she answered breathlessly.

The Duke opened the door of the Sitting-Room and she saw that it led into the same passage that she had crossed the night before from her Dressing-Room to his bed-room.

The gas-lights were extinguished and the empty passage was dim, but it was still easy to see the way to the open door of the Dressing-Room.

Cassandra, with a sense of urgency, ran to the bed-room she had left so fearfully the night before.

The door into the corridor was closed but she could see that it had been opened. The chair had been moved and was standing a little away from the door, its gilded frame damaged from the manner in which it had been thrust aside.

Because she was so anxious to get away quickly, Cassandra did not try to think now what had happened.

She washed quickly in cold water, found her riding-habit in the wardrobe and put it on.

It was a little difficult to fasten it herself because Hannah had packed her very latest and smartest habit from Busvine.

It was the habit-bodice which was widely advertised as being extremely becoming to the female figure and made so that no fastenings were visible.

It was in fact a riding-dress rather than a skirt and jacket, and was what all the fashionable lady riders had taken to wearing in the warmer months of the year.

The plain black of the material, with just a touch of white at the throat and wrists, was severe and yet extremely becoming to Cassandra.

As she dressed herself hastily, she had no time to notice the translucent whiteness of her skin or how her red hair, braided neatly around her head to wear under the black topper, glowed in the morning sunshine.

Instead she tucked a handkerchief into the pocket of her skirt, and only as she turned to run back to the Duke the way she had come did she wonder what she should do about her clothes and jewellery.

As if he anticipated that this was the question she would ask, or perhaps their minds were so attuned to each other that he knew what she was thinking, he answered the question as soon as she reappeared in the Sitting-Room.

“You have been very quick,” he said approvingly. “Do not worry about your other things. I have left a note with my Valet to have them all packed and taken to London with mine.”

“Then can we go?” Cassandra asked.

“At once,” he replied with a smile.

Despite the fact that she supposed everyone must still be sleeping so early in the morning, Cassandra tip-toed along the corridor behind the Duke.

He ignored the wide staircase which led down into the Hall and instead led the way down several corridors until they came to another narrower staircase.

Descending it, the Duke continued through less formal parts of the house until finally they emerged into the open through a door off the kitchen, finding that it was only a few minutes away from the stables.

The Duke ordered the horses he required with an authority which Cassandra thought would have infuriated Lord Carwen if he had known what was happening.

Two magnificent horses, one a black stallion, the other a roan, were saddled and brought by the grooms into the yard.

The Duke said nothing, but Cassandra seeing the expression on his face exclaimed:

“They were yours!”

“Yes,” he answered briefly, “they were mine.”

The grooms were listening and Cassandra could say no more.

She wondered why the Duke had sold his animals to Lord Carwen rather than put them up at Tattersall’s.

She could not help feeling that if her father had seen either of these horses and known to whom they belonged, he would have been willing to pay a very large price for them.

But what was important at the moment was that they should be clean away from the house and its owner.

Once they were out of the Park, the Duke led the way over the fields into the open countryside. Since their horses were fresh, they both realised without words that the first thing was to give them their heads.

They must have galloped for nearly two miles before the horses automatically slowed their pace and Cassandra looked at the Duke with laughter in her eyes.

“That has swept away the morning mists!”

“And your fears?”

“For the moment.”

He looked at her shining eyes and flushed cheeks, as he said: “You ride better than any woman I have ever seen. I was half-afraid that Juno would be too strong for you to hold, but I see I need have had no anxiety on that score.”

“Where are we going?” Cassandra asked.

“To my home,” the Duke answered. “I want you to see it.”

“I would love that!”

As she spoke with a little lilt in her voice, she remembered the long article about Alchester Park that she had cut out from an illustrated magazine and stuck into the Album.

Now at last she would see the house of which she had read so much, and which was the birth-place and the background of the man she loved.

When they had ridden for another hour the Duke said:

“Do you see that Inn ahead of us? I think we would both enjoy breakfast. I know I am hungry!”

“So am I,” Cassandra agreed.

The Inn with a thatched roof stood on the edge of a village green.

The Landlord was not unnaturally surprised to receive such obviously important guests so early in the morning, but ushered Cassandra and the Duke into a small private parlour where a maid-servant quickly kindled the fire.

There was a mirror on one wall of the room, and going towards it Cassandra took off her hat and tidied away the small tendrils of red-gold curls that had escaped from the tidy plaits.

Then she sat down at the round table opposite the Duke and the Landlord came hurrying in with eggs and bacon, home-cured ham, and a huge pork-pie, besides newly-baked bread, honey in the comb and a huge pat of golden butter.

“Oi’m afraid we’ve only simple fare to offer ye, Sir,” he said to the Duke.

“It looks very palatable,” the Duke replied agreeably.

He refused ale or cider and instead drank the fragrant coffee that had been brewed for Cassandra.

“Food always tastes good when one has taken exercise,” Cassandra said. “I have not eaten such a big breakfast since I was last out hunting.”

She realised as she spoke that it was hardly in character for an actress to hunt. But the words were spoken and she could not unsay them.

To cover the slip she had made she went on hastily:

“I think perhaps I am hungry mostly because I am so relieved to get away from that horrible house and those even more horrible people. I thought when we arrived last night that it would be interesting to study them and see what they were like. I know now that I never want to see any of them again.”

“Why were they such a surprise?” the Duke asked.

“I suppose I did not realise ... before that women who are born ... ladies, like Mrs. Langtry and Lady McDonald, would go everywhere with a man who was ... not their ... husband.”

The Duke did not say anything but his eyes were on her face.

After a moment Cassandra said almost as if she was talking to herself:

“My father told me that gentlemen liked to take pretty actresses out to supper and give them presents. I thought it was just because she was ... beautiful that Mrs. Langtry had so many ... diamonds but ... perhaps that is not the only ... reason.”

“Why did you think Lord Carwen was offering you the diamond bracelet?” the Duke asked quietly.

Cassandra tried to meet his eyes and failed.

Looking down at the table she said:

“I heard you asking him ... last night if he had ... suggested to ... me that I become his ... mistress.”

Her voice trembled before she went on:

“I did not ... understand that was ... what he meant.”

“What does your father do?” the Duke enquired.

Once again it seemed to Cassandra that he was changing the subject for some reason of his own.

She wondered wildly what her reply should be. It was obvious the Duke did not suppose her father was a gentleman of leisure as were the majority of his acquaintances.

“Father has some ... land,” she answered at length.

It was not a very adequate way of describing the 20,000 acres that Sir James Sherburn owned.

“So he farms?” the Duke said.

Cassandra nodded. That at least was true.

“Then you did not go on the stage because you needed the money. Was it because you found the country dull and you wanted excitement?”

Cassandra did not answer. She had suddenly felt ashamed of the part she had acted to deceive the Duke. She wanted to tell him the truth and yet she could not bring herself to do so.

He had said yesterday that he was in love with her but he had not said it again.

Last night when she had been so frightened, he had treated her as he was treating her now, as if he were her brother rather than a man in love.

She rose from the table and walked across the room to the mirror, picking up her hat as she did so from the chair on which she had left it.

“I think we should be going,” she said. “You said we had a long ride. I suppose we are returning to London tonight?”

“Were you expecting to do anything else?” the Duke asked.

“No, of course not,” Cassandra said quickly.

The Duke paid for their breakfast and they mounted their horses in the yard and set off again.

There was no more beautiful time of year, Cassandra thought, than Spring. The buds on the trees were vividly green, and were echoed in the colour of the young grass in the meadow-land.

They rode through woods where there were violets shyly showing their purple and white heads from under the dark-green leaves, and primroses on the mossy banks were sunshine yellow.

There were anemones so fragile they seemed like fairy flowers against the trunks of the dark pine or the white of the silver birch.

They rode beside streams winding their way beneath weeping willows. Sometimes there were purple hills in the distance, and at others flat lush valleys where fat cows grazed contentedly.

Just as Cassandra was beginning to think it was time for another meal, they rode between two high iron gates with heraldic stone lions rampant on either side of them. Ahead lay a long drive lined with ancient oak trees.

It was obvious that the drive was untended, half-covered with moss, and no-one had swept away the broken branches which had fallen in the winter gales, or cut the grass beneath the trees.

The trees ended and ahead of them she saw Alchester Park!

It had appeared large and awe-inspiring in its pictures, but in reality it had a warmth that could not be translated into pen and ink.

The brown red bricks with which it had been built in the reign of Queen Elizabeth had mellowed with age and glowed rosy in the sunshine.

There were towers and chimney-pots silhouetted against the sky, glittering diamond-paned windows and a wide flight of ancient stone steps led up to the great oak door with its huge ornamental hinges and studded with iron nails.

“It is lovely!” Cassandra exclaimed. “Far lovelier than I expected.”

The lawns surrounding the house were not as smooth as they should have been and were badly in need of cutting, but Cassandra realised that if they were tended they would look like velvet.

The almond trees were in bloom as were the yellow jasmine flowers climbing over the red brick walls of what she suspected might be an herb-garden.