“You are very poetical, Mama,” Ajanta had teased her.
“Could I be anything else when I have your Papa – and, of course, the four most adorable children in the world?” her mother replied.
‘I will go and look at the bluebells,’ Ajanta promised herself, ‘and they will make me forget the bills that are coming in at the end of the month and the riding-boots that Lyle needs so badly.’
She worried over Lyle even more than her father. “Look after Papa,” had been her mother’s last words to her before she died.
But her father could manage, when he was writing, to slip away into a world of his own which helped him to forget for a little while the heartbreak and misery he felt at his wife’s death.
Lyle was different. He was young and so good-looking and he not only worked hard but also wanted to enjoy himself with his friends at Oxford.
But it was almost impossible to find the money for his fees, the clothes he wanted and pocket money, which small though it was, was essential if he was to have any fun at all.
‘If only I could make some money,’ Ajanta was thinking.
But what opportunities were there in a small village consisting of fewer than two hundred people?
Nevertheless, because the sun was shining and because she would see the bluebells later in the afternoon, she went on humming.
Suddenly just ahead of her brush on the flagged floor there appeared almost as if by magic two black shining objects, which she identified as highly polished Hessians.
She looked up, gave a little exclamation of surprise and sat back on her heels.
Standing in the kitchen, looking exceedingly elegant and overwhelmingly proud and handsome was the man who she considered had forced his way into the house only yesterday.
If Ajanta was surprised, so was the Marquis.
He had rung the bell and, when it was not answered, he thought it not unlikely that it was broken.
He had therefore walked in through the open front door expecting to find somebody at home of whom he could enquire the whereabouts of the Vicar.
There was nobody in the sitting room that he thought, although it was small and the carpet threadbare, had a definite charm about it.
There was nobody in the study, which was filled with books from floor to ceiling while books also were piled on every table and chair and even on the floor.
The Marquis therefore decided that the only chance of receiving the information he wanted was to find a servant.
He walked past the dining room in what he was sure was the direction of the kitchen and was just about to address the woman he saw scrubbing the floor when the glinting gold of her hair told him that it was Ajanta.
As she looked up at him, he thought she was even lovelier than he remembered.
He forgot for the moment what he had intended to say and merely asked,
“Do you have to do this? Surely there is somebody who could do it for you?”
“Of course,” Ajanta replied. “At least half-a-dozen women in the village would be delighted to have the job, but they would also expect payment.”
Then, as if she thought that it was rather undignified to reveal their poverty to a stranger, she said in a different tone and there was an undoubted note of aggression in it, “What do you want? Why are you here?”
“I want to see your father.”
“He is away for the day and will not be back until late this afternoon.”
The Marquis’s lips tightened for a moment before he said,
“In which case, I would like to talk to you, Miss Tiverton.”
“What about?” Ajanta enquired. “As you can see, I am very busy.”
“What I have to say is not only of great importance, but it is urgent and incidentally it closely concerns you.”
“It concerns me?” Ajanta enquired. “I cannot imagine how anything that you wish to say to my father, Mr. Stowe, can possibly concern me.”
The Marquis smiled and it made him seem more human and certainly more attractive.
“Most young women would not expect me to speak of anything but themselves.”
Ajanta, however, was not listening. She was looking down at the floor.
She only had half the kitchen to finish and she was debating whether it would be possible to ask Mr. Stowe to wait until she had completed the scrubbing.
Then she thought he might stay and watch her and that would be embarrassing.
“I hope you will not be very long,” she said as she rose to her feet. “I have a great deal of cleaning to do and I also have to prepare luncheon.”
The Marquis did not reply.
He merely watched her as she took off an apron made of sacking, which she wore over a plain gown made of cheap cotton that he suspected she had made herself.
It, however, did not disguise the grace of her figure, the smallness of her waist or that she had slim hips and undoubtedly, the Marquis thought, long athletic legs.
It struck him he had been right when he first saw her that she might have been a young Grecian Goddess, and a Greek name would have been more appropriate than one that came from India.
Without hurrying, Ajanta pulled down her sleeves, which she had rolled up above the elbows and buttoned them neatly at her wrists.
Having placed the bucket and scrubbing brush against the wall of the kitchen she said,
“Perhaps you will come into the drawing room, but please don’t keep me long, otherwise I shall have no time this afternoon to see the bluebells.”
As she spoke, she realised that she had been following her train of thought and had not meant to mention anything so personal to this importunate stranger.
The Marquis was immediately curious.
“Bluebells?”
“In the woods at the back of the garden,” Ajanta explained, “but it can be of no interest to you.”
The Marquis did not reply to this, he merely followed Ajanta, as she walked back along the passage and opened the door of the sitting room, which he had already visited.
He realised now as he looked at it that some of its charm was due to the masses of flowers that stood on every table.
They seemed to bring in the sunshine and the gold of the daffodils certainly echoed the gold of Ajanta’s hair.
As she stood by the fireplace and raised her blue eyes to his, he thought he could understand why she wanted to see the bluebells.
“Well, what is it, Mr. Stowe?” she asked. “I do beg of you, if you have problems, not to worry my father unless it is absolutely necessary.”
She had a sudden fear as she spoke that perhaps Mr. Stowe had come to try and interest her father in a charity or obtain money from him in one way or another.
Then she told herself, having seen the horses he drove and the manner in which he was dressed, that such an idea was ridiculous.
“What is – it you – want?” she asked again, and there was an undoubted note of apprehension in her voice. “Suppose you sit down?” the Marquis said.
He spoke with an air of authority that made Ajanta obey him without argument.
As she sat in the nearest armchair, which faced the window, the Marquis took her place in front of the mantelpiece and remained standing.
“When I came here yesterday,” he said, “I realised from the things you said and the remarks made by your father that you are finding it difficult to make ends meet.”
He saw Ajanta stiffen and thought that she was about to say that it was none of his business. Quickly he went on,
“I understood you are finding it hard to pay your brother’s fees at Oxford and you told me that it was a mistake for your sister to waste the money you paid her teachers.”
“And to waste time mooning about over you,” Ajanta added, as if she could not help saying what she was thinking. “Has she been doing that?”
“Of course she has! At that age girls are always wildly over-romantic and Charis is no exception.”
“But you did not suffer in the sam
e way?” the Marquis enquired.
“I don’t think this is what you came here to talk about to Papa.”
“It certainly indirectly concerns it,” the Marquis replied, “and, as I see you are impatient, Miss Tiverton, I will continue.”
“Please do.”
“What I am telling you is that I need your help in a very difficult and personal problem and if you will give it to me, I am prepared to pay you the sum of two thousand pounds for your services.”
If he had dropped a bomb at her feet, Ajanta could not have been more surprised.
For a moment she could only stare at the Marquis, until, when she could speak, she asked,
“Is – this a joke?”
“No, of course not,” the Marquis replied. “I am deadly serious, and perhaps it is better, now that I think about it, that I should make the offer to you rather than to your father. I have a feeling, although I may be wrong, that he is unworldly and money does not at all concern him.”
“That is true,” Ajanta conceded. “But why should you want to offer us, whom you have only just met, such an enormous sum of money and what can we possibly do to earn it?”
“The person who earns it will be you, Miss Tiverton.” “Me? How?”
“That is what I am going to explain to you, and let me say, in case you still doubt my intentions, that this is entirely serious and an absolutely sincere plea for help.”
“You – did say two thousand pounds?” Ajanta asked in a very low voice.
As she spoke, the Marquis thought that her eyes were very revealing and he could see that she was thinking what this could mean to them all.
He had the idea, although he could not be sure, that the last thing Ajanta would consider would be help in the house so that she did not have to scrub the kitchen floor.
He chose his words with care before he replied,
“I am in a position whereby it is imperative for me to become engaged to be married within the next three days. I say ‘engaged’ and it will be an engagement that may have to last three, four, perhaps six months. After that it can be terminated and there will be no question of my actually being married to the person to whom I become affianced.”
Ajanta stared at him incredulously and he went on,
“That is why I need your help for which I am prepared to pay the sum of one thousand pounds now once the engagement has been announced and a further one thousand pounds when it comes to an end. Then we will part most amicably with the explanation that we have jointly decided that we are not compatible.”
“I think you must be mad!” Ajanta ejaculated.
“I am asking, Miss Tiverton, for your help.”
Ajanta did not look at him.
“The answer is ‘no’! The whole idea is preposterous! I am sure Papa would be extremely shocked at my pretending that I wish to be married when I was aware all the time that it was something which would never happen.”
There was a slight pause and then she added with dignity,
“I think, Mr. Stowe, you should leave. I have listened to your proposition and refuse it. There is no point in our discussing it any further.”
“I quite understand,” the Marquis replied in a cold voice. “I made a mistake. I thought when I came here yesterday that you loved your family and would wish to do your best for them. Now I see I was wrong and I can only offer my apologies.”
As he spoke, he took a step as if he would walk towards the door.
“I do love my family!” Ajanta cried as he finished speaking. “I love them and would do anything for them, but – ”
“ – not help them by earning two thousand pounds,” the Marquis concluded. “If that is love, it is a very selfish emotion.”
“How dare you say such things to me?” Ajanta answered. “I look after Papa and the girls – ”
“And deny your brother,” the Marquis interrupted, “the horses he could ride, the sports he would enjoy and all the other pleasures one can have at Oxford.”
“Lyle is very happy at Oxford,” she asserted angrily.
“But he needs money,” the Marquis replied. “I was there myself and I know just how much everything costs.”
Ajanta walked to the window to stand with her back to him.
He knew that she was seeking a way of escape as he had sought last night and the answer had come to him like a star shining in a dark sky.
Now, looking at Ajanta’s hair gleaming with gold from the sun, he waited with a smile on his lips, confident that he would get his own way.
“How – could anybody – believe that – you would – suddenly want to – marry – me in such a – headlong – manner?” Ajanta asked at length, and it seemed as if the words were being dragged from her lips one by one.
“If you look in the mirror you will realise that most people will not be surprised,” the Marquis answered.
As he spoke in a dry almost impersonal voice, it did not sound particularly a compliment.
Ajanta turned round.
“I am – sure Papa will not – believe it.”
“Then you must be clever and convince him – unless you intend to tell him the truth, which I am sure would be a mistake – that it was love at first sight.”
“That is what – he felt for – Mama.”
She spoke hardly above a whisper, but the Marquis heard.
“Which makes it easier,” he said. “I met you yesterday at luncheon time and knew you were the one person I had been seeking all my life.”
He spoke in a mocking tone of voice.
“Such things do happen!” Ajanta said sharply, “and you are not to laugh about it.”
“I will certainly not laugh if you will agree to do what I want,” the Marquis replied. “In fact I will be very very grateful.”
“I don’t – really see – how I can do – such a – thing,” Ajanta said helplessly.
“You will do it because you sensibly and wisely realise what a difference this money will make to your family in the future,” the Marquis said. “And I am doing it because it will save me from a very uncomfortable situation I do not wish to discuss.”
“And you don’t – think it is – wrong of – me?” Ajanta asked.
Now she was no longer aggressive, but somehow seemed only young and afraid and, the Marquis thought, because her eyes had softened, very beautiful.
“I always consider it wrong,” he answered, “to refuse the gifts the Gods offer, in whatever form they come. Most people call it luck, but perhaps your father would think of it as manna from Heaven.”
“That is what I am – trying to – tell myself it – is,” Ajanta murmured. “At the same time I cannot help – feeling that I am doing – something that is not only – reprehensible, but – frightening.”
“There is no need to be frightened,” the Marquis said. “I will look after you and all you have to do is to agree that the announcement should appear in The London Gazette tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Ajanta echoed. “But that is far too soon!” “Not for me.”
“But what about your family, if you have one?”
“I can deal with my own family,” the Marquis replied. “All you have to do is to deal with yours.”
“I don’t know – what to – say to Papa.”
The Marquis smiled.
“I feel that you will manage him as competently as you manage your sisters. May I assume that you will help me from this moment and not try to back out?”
“If I give my word, I will not break it,” Ajanta said with a touch of pride.
“Then shall we say it is a deal?” the Marquis asked. “Let’s shake hands on it.”
He put out his hand as he spoke, but Ajanta looked at him apprehensively.
“I am frightened,” she said. “I am making a – leap in the dark and I am not – certain where I shall – end up.”
“I promise you it will be in a very soft place.”
He saw a faint smile curve her lips and she replied,
He laughed.
“I promise you it will be neither. In fact, if it is a bed, it will be one filled with goose feathers!”
Ajanta gave a little laugh as if she could not help it and put her hand in his.
The Marquis’s fingers as they closed over hers were very strong and in some way she could not quite understand reassuring.
Then he released her and said,
“Will you allow me to write a note, which my groom will then take to London?”
“Yes, of course,” Ajanta said, “and I think – it would be easier if you wrote at Papa’s desk because everything in the way of pens and paper is there in his study.”
“Thank you.”
He let Ajanta lead the way, although he had already seen the study in his tour of the house.
He sat down at the desk and once again she went to the window almost as if she needed the air coming through the open casement.
“Now I just have to get this correct for The London Gazette,” he said, “and by the way, I have omitted to tell you until now, but my name is actually the Marquis of Stowe!”
Ajanta looked at him in astonishment.
“The – Marquis of Stowe!” she exclaimed. “Then your horse won the Derby last year.”
“Yes, Golden Glory.”
“Lyle was quite certain he would win and we were all so pleased when he did.”
“I shall enjoy showing him to you.”
There was silence and then Ajanta said in a hesitating voice, “Are you – suggesting that I should – visit you at your – house?”
The Marquis, who was inspecting the quill pens lying on the desk, looked up to say,
“But of course! I shall want to take you to London and to my family seat in Buckinghamshire.”
“But – how can – I come with – you?” Ajanta asked. “I have Charis and – Darice to consider.”
“I shall be delighted for you to bring them with you,” the Marquis answered, “and I was thinking that, as Stowe Hall is only about ten miles from Oxford, your father might wish to seize the opportunity while you are there to do the research he was talking about yesterday.”
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