But she knew that, once she reached home and he was gone, her fears would come back, especially the fear that the Duchess would not keep her word even after she had done what was asked of her and that her uncle would still have to retire and they would have to leave the Vicarage.
Almost as if he followed her thoughts, the Marquis went on,
“I had intended to leave for London this afternoon, but now I shall stay until tomorrow. Therefore if by chance you hear anything that is upsetting you can get in touch with me. You know where my house is in Newmarket?”
“Yes, I know it,” Aspasia agreed.
Jerry had pointed it out to her after they had watched Conqueror win two years ago and it was not far from the Marquis’s racing stables.
“If I do not hear from you by tomorrow morning,” the Marquis continued, “then I shall go back to London. Again, if you wish to contact me, anybody will tell you which is my house in Berkeley Square.”
“You are very – kind to trouble so much about – me,” Aspasia said in a low voice.
“What is more,” the Marquis continued, “although it is unlikely after you have fulfilled your promise, if the Duchess does dismiss your uncle, I am sure that I can find him a Living among the many I have in my gift on my estates.”
Aspasia gave a little cry and turned her head to look up at him.
“How can you be – so wonderful?” she asked. “Now I am no longer afraid for the future and I feel certain that God has answered my prayers.”
“But there is one thing I want you to promise me.”
“What is – that?”
“That whatever the Duchess says, whatever orders she may give you, you will not ever go to Grimstone House again.”
“No, of course – not,” Aspasia replied, and the Marquis felt the shudder that went through her.
He knew that she was thinking again about the horrors of last night and he said sharply,
“Forget them! Put them out of your mind and I suggest that you tell nobody, especially your uncle, what you have seen and heard.”
Aspasia knew that the one person she would tell was Jerry, but certainly not Uncle Theophilus.
If she did so, he might think it his duty to remonstrate with the Duchess about her behaviour and that would be disastrous.
“You promise?” the Marquis insisted.
“I will say – nothing to my uncle,” Aspasia promised. “He is a very saintly man and always thinks the best of everybody. I am sure that he has no idea of the wickedness that is taking place at Grimstone House.”
“Them leave him happy in his ignorance,” the Marquis said. “Most women talk too much, but I have the feeling that you are the exception.”
“I would not – wish to speak of such – things,” Aspasia said in a low voice, “and after you have been so kind I will – try to do as you – tell me.”
The sun had risen over the horizon and now not only the sky but the whole world seemed to turn to gold and the Marquis was aware that with the light on Aspasia’s hair it was as if he held a shaft of sunlight in his arms.
Never, he thought, had he seen hair of such a lovely colour and with his arm around her waist he realised how very light and slim she was. It was almost as if he held close to him some mythical nymph from the woods that they had just passed through.
And yet he knew that she was human enough to have been deeply shocked and frightened by what had occurred yesterday evening and it was something that should not have happened to any young girl let alone one of Aspasia’s breeding and sensitivity.
‘She will get over it,’ the Marquis told himself.
At the same time he was afraid that it might be impossible.
They emerged between the trees of yet another wood and then ahead of them were the roofs of a grey stone building and beyond it the spire of a Church.
“Is this where you live?” the Marquis asked before Aspasia could point it out to him.
“Yes.”
“I think it would be best if I don’t take you to the door. I don’t know what story you are going to tell your uncle and perhaps it will complicate things if he sees me.”
“I don’t think that Uncle Theophilus will be down to breakfast so early, but I will think of something to say before he does.”
The Marquis guided his horse between the trees of a small orchard to stop at the edge of the untidy unkempt garden which was, however, ablaze with flowers.
“I will drop you here,” he said. “Don’t move, but hold the reins for me.”
He put them into her hand, then dismounted and put up his arms to lift her to the ground.
As he did so, she looked down at him and, as the Marquis’s grey eyes looked into hers, she had the strange feeling that they were speaking to each other without words.
Then very slowly, it seemed to her, he lifted her down from the saddle and held her for a moment against him before he set her free.
“Goodbye, Aspasia,” he said and his voice was deep. “Take good care of yourself.”
“Thank you – again,” she replied and somehow it was hard to speak. “I shall – always remember your kindness – and how very wonderful you have been to – me.”
Again his eyes were holding hers, but because she was shy and because she felt her heart beating in a very strange manner, she turned away and started to run over the unkempt lawn towards the house.
The Marquis saw her reach the front of it and then she disappeared behind some rosebushes.
He gave a sigh and it was only when he was riding back towards Grimstone House that he remembered Aspasia was still wearing his evening cloak.
‘I wonder if she will return it to me,’ he questioned and smiled.
Then he told himself that the sooner he could get away from the Duchess the better.
Equally he would have been foolish not to discuss with her the problem that had brought him to Grimstone House in the first place.
He wondered somewhat wryly if she would be disappointed when she found that he had no wish to accept another invitation to her cleverly calculated entertainment.
*
Aspasia let herself in through the side door where the lock had been broken for some time.
She realised as she did so that the house was very quiet, since, as it was still only a little past five o’clock, nobody was about.
She wanted to see Jerry, but there was no point in waking him.
She therefore went up to her own bedroom and only as she unclasped the cloak which the Marquis had given to her did she remember that she should have returned it to him.
‘I can easily leave it at his house in Newmarket,’ she reassured herself and thought that when she did so she would write him a letter of thanks and tell him once again how grateful she was.
She took off the white evening gown and wondered if the Duchess would ask for it to be sent back.
But for the moment she could think of nothing except that she was naked beneath it and it brought back to her the spectacle of the naked people on the stage in the dining room.
‘I would like to burn this gown,’ she thought. ‘And hope that it would make me forget the whole of yesterday evening.’
At the same time she had no wish to forget the Marquis.
He was so handsome and so impressive. But he was also something else, something that she could not put into words.
Whatever it was she felt herself drawn to him in a very strange way and, when she had been close against him on his horse, it was almost as if she belonged to him.
‘I am being imaginative,’ Aspasia told herself.
But the feeling was there as she thought that it was just a sense of her security and now he had gone she would never know it again.
The whole world was suddenly dark.
‘I am tired,’ she thought, but knew that it was much more than that.
She put on her nightgown and climbed into the bed where she had slept ever since she had been too big for her cot and then she fell asl
eep thinking of the Marquis and wishing that she was still close to him.
*
Aspasia awoke to find that Jerry was standing by her bed looking down at her.
“Thank God you are back!” he exclaimed before she could speak. “I have been terrified ever since I received your message from the grooms.”
Aspasia sat up.
“You had my message?” she asked. “I thought Martha would get it.”
“Martha stayed the night with her relations,” Jerry explained carelessly. “But what happened to you?”
Aspasia could not meet his eyes.
“I – hardly know how to – tell you,” she answered, “and I am still – half-asleep.”
“I tell you what I will do,” Jerry said. “I will go downstairs and make some coffee. Put on your riding habit and after we have had breakfast I want you to come and see some fox cubs I have found. They are only just born and the prettiest little things imaginable, although they will play havoc with everybody’s chickens when they grow older.”
He went from the room as he spoke and Aspasia jumped out of bed.
Now she was back again in her own familiar surroundings and last night seemed just like a bad dream.
And yet, when she was relating it all to Jerry, the horror of it swept over her again.
They cooked their breakfast and, as it was too early for their uncle to require his, they ate it in the kitchen and Aspasia told her brother everything that had happened from the moment that she arrived at Grimstone House.
He listened first with an air of astonishment and then there was a frown between his eyes and his lips tightened as he realised the implications of many things that in her innocence she had not understood.
Only when she had finished and told him how she had slept peacefully beside the Marquis with a pillow between them on the bed did his fists, which he had subconsciously clenched, relax and he let out a deep sigh of relief.
“I can hardly believe it!”
“There is – something else I must tell you,” Aspasia went on.
“What is that?”
“When I got up this morning, while the Marquis was in the bathroom I looked around the bedroom and what do you think I saw?”
“What did you see?” Jerry asked.
The most wonderful portrait of – you know who I am talking about – over the mantelpiece.”
“I would like to see what he looked like.”
“It would be very easy for you to do that.”
“What do you mean?” Jerry asked.
“You can go and look in the mirror.”
“Am I really so like him?”
“Exactly! The picture might have been of you except that it must have been painted when he was older.”
As Aspasia spoke, she put her hand into the pocket of the jacket she was wearing and took out a miniature.
“I looked at this as soon as I came back this morning and I have always thought that this was very like you, but the portrait is, as Martha would say, ‘the living image’.”
“Well, there is nothing we can do about that,” Jerry said. “All we can hope is that the Duchess never sees me.”
“But – the grooms did who came – yesterday!”
“Well, there was nobody else to attend to them. Martha was not here and, although Uncle Theophilus was back, he was in the study.”
“Do you think – they noticed you?”
He shook his head.
“No, of course not and I did not pay much attention to them. I just took your horse and put him in the stable.”
“What were they like?”
“I really did not notice,” Jerry smiled. “But I think one of the grooms was quite young and the other was an older man who led the second horse that the groom was to ride back on.”
“I suppose it is – all right,” Aspasia said doubtfully.
“After what you have been through last night, I should not think you need worry about anything more,” Jerry said, “and for Heaven’s sake, don’t say anything to Uncle Theophilus.”
“No, of course not,” Aspasia agreed. “I will not tell him anything about the letter that came from the Duchess. There is no point in upsetting him.”
As Jerry spoke, they heard their uncle coming down the stairs.
“I suppose you cleared the breakfast things from yesterday when you had supper,” Aspasia said to her brother.
“Yes, that is right, but we left the supper plates without clearing them away.”
Aspasia laughed.
“Well, go and do that now while I cook some eggs and bacon for Uncle Theophilus.”
Jerry did as she told him and when she joined her uncle a little later he was reading a book.
“Good morning!” he murmured absent-mindedly.
She thought that it was so like him not to remember that she had been away last night.
“There are some very interesting references in this book,” the Reverend Theophilus remarked, “on the influence of Plato on the Christian faith. I think you would enjoy reading it.”
“I am sure I would,” Aspasia replied, aware that Jerry’s eyes were twinkling.
She gave him a little frown and said,
“Do eat your eggs and bacon while they are hot, Uncle Theophilus. What are you doing today? Jerry and I are going riding after breakfast.”
“Good gracious me! It’s a good thing you asked me that question,” her uncle replied. “I have just remembered that I not only told Martha I would pick her up before noon, but I have also received a message that Mrs. Winthrop wishes to see me.”
“Mrs. Winthrop!” Aspasia exclaimed. “Is she ill again?”
“I don’t think she will last very long,” the Reverend Theophilus informed her. “I therefore cannot refuse to visit her, but it will take me several hours to get there and back. As you well know, Bessie is very slow.”
“But you will be back for supper,” Aspasia said, “and please don’t forget to collect Martha. We miss her.”
“No, I will not forget,” the Reverend Theophilus promised. “Jerry, will you put Bessie between the shafts for me? You are so much better at it than I am. I will go and get myself ready.”
Aspasia knew that both she and Jerry were intensely relieved that her uncle had not been curious about her absence and that she was able to avoid telling him that she had been away for the night.
It took some time to take the gig round to the front door, find the special pair of spectacles that the Reverend Theophilus wished to take with him and pick some roses, which Aspasia felt that she should send to Mrs. Winthrop.
She was a kind old lady and, although not rich, was always prepared to support any special charity that the Vicar was interested in.
“Give Mrs. Winthrop our love,” Aspasia urged him when at last he was ready to drive off, “and hurry back as quickly as you can.”
The Reverend Theophilus merely smiled and, touching Bessie very lightly with his whip, set off down the drive.
“It is fortunate that Mrs. Winthrop and Plato are of more interest to Uncle Theophilus than you are,” Jerry teased her.
“I am very very grateful to both of them,” Aspasia laughed.
She tidied the house a little thinking that it would be a mistake for Martha to come back to unmade beds and a dining room table covered in dirty dishes.
Then they saddled their horses and set off across the fields.
They had quite a long way to ride to where Jerry had discovered the fox’s lair in the depths of another wood where there was a sandpit amongst the trees.
There were no gamekeepers on this part of the estate and as they rode they saw magpies, jays, ferrets and stoats besides a large number of inquisitive little red squirrels.
It was hot and sunny and Aspasia, happy as she always was with Jerry, began to feel that everything that had happened last night was slipping away into the mists of oblivion.
She was, however, wondering as they returned home how she could explain to M
artha the absence of her best gown and jacket and the fact that they had been replaced by a very fancy evening gown.
“We still have plenty of time to decide what you should and should not tell Martha,” Jerry said, who as usual could read her thoughts.
“She will certainly ask me plenty of questions,” Aspasia replied.
As they neared the Vicarage from a different direction from which she had come back this morning, Aspasia saw that there was a carriage standing outside the front door.
“I wonder who it can be!” she exclaimed pulling in her horse.
Jerry did the same and then the same question flashed through their minds like forked lightning.
Why should the Duchess have sent a carriage to the Vicarage?
It was closed and drawn by two horses. There was a coachman on the box, another man standing on the ground who looked like a footman and Aspasia thought that he was about to ring the bell.
Then she saw that the front door was open and it seemed to her strange that the Duchess’s servants should have walked in.
But before she could say anything to Jerry a man appeared in the doorway and they both stiffened.
It was a man they knew well, in fact nobody could live on the Grimstone estate without knowing William Bollard by sight and reputation.
“What is he doing here?” Jerry asked beneath his breath.
They saw him say something to the footman and then go back into the house again.
They waited and then Aspasia gave a little gasp for she could see that Bollard and another man were in the room upstairs that was their uncle’s.
The windows were open and the two men were moving about opening cupboards and drawers, pulling books from the bookshelves and scattering papers about.
“What are they doing?” Aspasia asked in a frightened whisper.
“They know!” Jerry exclaimed. “We had better get away! Come on, quickly.”
He turned his horse as he spoke and went back through the trees that they had just emerged from.
“Where are we going?” Aspasia asked.
There was a little pause before Jerry replied,
“To Newmarket. The only person who can help us now is your Marquis.”
*
The Marquis finished speaking and, standing with his back to the mantelpiece, waited for Charlie to comment.
In the Arms of Love Page 8