A Shaft of Sunlight

by Barbara Cartland

  “But of course, Papa! And I feel that once Lucien and I are married you and the Duke will become close friends. After all, between you, you own all the best race-horses in England.”

  “Not all, my dear, but certainly a great number of them,” Sir Jarvis said complacently.

  “And that is a real bond in common, is it not?”

  “Of course, of course,” Sir Jarvis agreed, “but the closest bond of all will be when you are married to the Duke’s Ward, a young man with whom I understand His Grace has deeply concerned himself ever since he was a School-boy.”

  “That is true,” Claribel agreed, “and although Lucien is nervous of the Duke he certainly admires him.”

  “As do a lot of other people!” Sir Jarvis approved. “I think, my dearest, that your future is exactly as I planned it, and you are a very lucky girl.”

  Claribel turned round from the contemplation of her reflection in the mirror and walked towards her father.

  She lifted her face to his looking so lovely as she did so that he stared at her as if he had never seen her before.

  “I shall enjoy being a Viscountess!” she said simply.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Looking round what was more a baronial hall than a dining room, the Duke thought that Sir Jarvis Stamford certainly lived in style.

  He had not expected Stamford Towers to be quite so big or to find that it was furnished inside opulently but with good taste.

  There was however, he thought, an unnecessary number of footmen in the hall and he was quite certain that his valet would tell him about the army of servants that existed in the kitchen-quarters.

  At the moment he was sizing up the guests who had been invited for dinner tonight as County and highly respectable, and Sir Jarvis himself as a very genial host.

  The Duke was well aware that for him to stay with somebody with whom he had a bare acquaintance was unprecedented, and the effusive manner with which he was greeted and Sir Jarvis’s anxiety that he should be provided with every comfort were no more than he had expected.

  When he had seen Claribel for the first time he had understood why Lucien was in love, for she was without doubt one of the loveliest young women he had ever seen.

  At the same time for his Ward’s sake he was determined to be highly critical, as he still thought that Lucien was too young to be married.

  If he was, it should be to a very exceptional wife who would help him to develop the better qualities of his character and dispense with the undesirable ones.

  That, the Duke told himself cynically, would undoubtedly be beyond the powers of any girl as young as Claribel.

  He had, however, learned before coming to Stamford Towers that since she was in mourning for her mother , Miss Stamford had not been presented at Court last year, but had been obliged to wait until this Season before she could appear and dazzle the Social World.

  It was therefore understandable to the Duke that Claribel appeared to have none of the shyness and sense of insecurity that was usual in a very young debutante, but had already a poise, which would not have come amiss on a much older woman.

  But that did not prevent her from looking as fresh as a dewdrop and every young man’s ideal of spring. Her extremely expensive white gown was exactly what a sweet young maiden should wear, and the blue ribbons which crossed over her breasts and cascaded down her back were the colour of her eyes.

  As course succeeded course, all brought to the table on gold dishes, the Duke became aware that Sir Jarvis employed an exceptionally good Chef and the wines were superlative.

  There was certainly no question, he told himself, of his Ward being married for his money.

  But he was still remembering that Mr. Middleton had said that all young girls were socially ambitious and the higher the title the better the catch.

  Mr. Middleton had also hinted that there had been a man of greater social importance in Miss Stamford’s orbit, and a few discreet enquiries at White’s Club had enabled the Duke to learn that this was the Earl of Dorset.

  He had met him several times and thought him a well-mannered, rather serious young man who was a credit to the Household Cavalry.

  But the Duke had learnt that he had sheered off and married a girl who preferred the country to London and whose father’s estate marched with his own.

  ‘That was sensible,’ he thought.

  At the same time he wondered if there had been some undisclosed reason for the Earl discontinuing his pursuit of the exquisitely lovely Claribel.

  As dinner progressed the Duke saw Lucien staring at his young hostess with what he termed ‘sheep’s eyes’, and thought perhaps he was being too critical in looking for flaws in such perfection instead of giving without more ado his whole-hearted consent to the alliance.

  In the years during which he had shown himself an outstandingly brilliant soldier and in the subsequent years of peace he had learnt to sum up people quickly and to trust his instinct.

  Strangely enough, for no apparent reason he could possibly ascertain, his instinct at the moment was giving him warning signals that everything was not quite right.

  He had no idea what it was.

  He only knew perceptively, as he had known in Spain and France when he and his men were in danger before there was any evidence of it that he had to be on his guard.

  ‘I am being ridiculous,’ he told himself and concentrated on the conversation of the lady on his right, whom he found attractive and quite surprisingly intelligent.

  When the ladies had retired to the drawing room, the gentlemen lingered for only a short time over their port.

  The conversation was all on horses, because besides the Duke and Sir Jarvis there were several other distinguished racehorse owners present.

  They talked of their triumphs and ambitions, which the Duke found distinctly interesting.

  He was actually reluctant to leave the dining room, were it not that he was aware that Lucien was fidgeting to go and Sir Jarvis was only too willing to make it easy for him to be with Claribel.

  In the huge drawing room, which was hung with a number of pictures the Duke would have been delighted to add to his own collection, there were card tables for those who wished to gamble, comfortable sofas for those who preferred to converse, and one of the guests was playing the piano in an almost professional manner.

  The Duke saw Lucien gravitating towards Claribel like a homing pigeon, and not wishing to embarrass them, he walked out onto the terrace.

  The sun was beginning to sink in a blaze of glory and the colour of the sky behind the huge oak trees in the park was very beautiful.

  Behind him the Duke heard Sir Jarvis settling the other guests down at the card-tables and decided he had no wish to gamble.

  Instead he walked over the velvet-smooth lawns, finding the garden like the house was almost too perfect to be real, and he wondered vaguely how many gardeners were employed.

  ‘It must cost Sir Jarvis a pretty penny,’ the Duke ruminated, and made a mental note to find out where so much money came from.

  The invitation to stay at Stamford Towers had arrived so promptly that Mr. Middleton had not had time to bring him the information he required.

  He decided there were a great many questions to be answered before he finally made up his mind to allow Lucien to propose to the delectable Claribel.

  He walked on, moving between two yew hedges that were clipped until there was not a twig or leaf out of place, where he saw ahead of him some steps that led up by the side of a cascade.

  Round the pool there was a blaze of flowers, and because it was so skilfully planned the Duke walked curiously up the steps to find at the top a small path leading through shrubs that were in bloom and whose fragrance filled the air.

  It was so beautiful that he could hardly believe Sir Jarvis had planned it without a professional designer, and yet it certainly was a tribute to the character of the man that he appreciated anything so exceptional.

  The Duke walked on and n
ow the shrubs gave way to pine trees and the path became a mere mossy track between their trunks.

  Through them he could still see the red and gold of the setting sun and thought having come so far he might as well finish his walk by seeing what lay at the end of the wood.

  He had an idea because Stamford Towers was on raised ground and this was higher still that there would be a fine view and as the trees thinned until they were silhouetted against the sky he saw he had been right.

  At the end of the wood the land dropped down several hundred feet and there was a view over the valley that was exceptional.

  The Duke stood looking at it, then suddenly became aware that he was not alone.

  Just a little to the right of him, seated on the trunk of a fallen tree there was a slight figure.

  The Duke was still sheltered by the trees through which he had been walking, and he realised that the girl, for that was what she appeared, was not aware of him.

  He thought at first glance that she was probably some labourer’s daughter, or perhaps a servant from the house.

  She was wearing a grey cotton gown, which looked somewhat like a uniform, and she was bending forward looking at the view.

  He thought that it was rather annoying that he was not alone, as he had wished to be, and the best thing he could do would be to turn and go back the way he had come.

  Then as if she was conscious of his scrutiny the girl turned her face towards him.

  He had the quick impression of huge dark eyes in a small, pale face and was aware that he had been wrong, for she was certainly not a servant, but somebody refined and in an unusual way, very lovely.

  Then as he stared at her she exclaimed,

  “How magnificent you are! And just as I thought you would be even though I could only see the top of your head!”

  The Duke was astonished.

  And before he could find words in which to reply the girl said,

  “I am – sorry. I – apologise. I should not have – said that – but I was so surprised to see – you.”

  The Duke walked the few steps that took him to the fallen tree-trunk and as he did so the girl rose and made him a slight, but very graceful curtsy.

  “You obviously know who I am,” the Duke said, “so it is only fair that you should introduce yourself.”

  “That is unnecessary.”

  The Duke raised his eyebrows, then deliberately sat down on the fallen tree-trunk.

  “If I have interrupted your communion with nature you must forgive me,” he said, “but it is certainly a very beautiful place in which to see the sunset.”

  She turned her head to look across the valley.

  “It is so lovely,” she said, “and when I am here I can believe I am seeing the sun set in India.”

  “India?” the Duke questioned. “You have been there?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me about it.”

  It was half an order and half a plea in a voice that many women had found irresistible.

  He realised she hesitated before she replied,

  “I think – I should – go away.”

  “Why?” the Duke enquired.

  “Because – ” she began, stopped and said, “there is no – need for me to – explain.”

  “There is every need,” the Duke contradicted. “You could not do anything so infuriating as to go away without explaining why you have only seen the top of my head.”

  She gave a little gurgle of laughter before she replied,

  “That is all one ever sees when one looks down from a top window.”

  The Duke smiled.

  “So you were peeping at me when I arrived!”

  “Yes, and through the banisters on the second floor when you proceeded into dinner.”

  The Duke was wearing his decorations on his evening-coat because one of the guests at dinner was an obscure foreign Prince, and as she looked at them she exclaimed,

  “I am sure that is a medal for gallantry.”

  “How do you know?”

  “My father was at one time in the Brigade of Guards.”

  “Tell me your father’s name.”

  Once again she looked away towards the sunset and did not reply.

  “If you will not tell me your father’s name,” the Duke persisted after a moment, “tell me yours. I find it irritating to converse with somebody who is entirely anonymous.”

  “If you are so – interested you had better – know that I am the – skeleton in the cupboard!”

  “The skeleton?”

  “Exactly! So please, Your Grace, will you promise me on your – honour that you will not mention to – anybody that you have – seen me?”

  “It would be very difficult to explain that I had met somebody who had no name and the only thing I knew about her was that she had visited India.”

  “But you must not – say that! They would know – at once who I was – and it only – slipped out because I was so – surprised to see – you.”

  “I will give you my promise that I will tell no-one we have met,” the Duke said, “if in return you will relieve my curiosity by telling me who you are and why you are here.”

  She looked at him with her large eyes, which the Duke thought were very expressive, and he was aware that she was deciding whether or not she could trust him to keep his word.

  Then as if something about him reassured her, she said simply,

  “My name is – Giona.”

  “Greek!”

  “That is clever of you!”

  “Not really. I used to be fairly proficient at Greek when I was at Oxford and I visited the country two years ago.”

  “Did it thrill you? Did you feel as if the gods were still there and the light has not changed since Homer wrote of it?”

  “Of course!”

  “I had no idea you would – feel all those – things too,” she said almost beneath her breath.

  “And now tell me why you are here and what connection you have with Stamford Towers,” the Duke said.

  The expression that had been in her eyes when she spoke of Greece changed dramatically.

  “That is a – question you must not – ask,” she said quickly. “I have told you that I am the – skeleton in the – cupboard.”

  “In Sir Jarvis’s cupboard?”

  “Please – ” she pleaded.

  “If you have deliberately set out to intrigue me and make me so curious that I shall not be able to sleep,” the Duke said, “then you have, Giona, succeeded.”

  “You promised to – forget that you ever – met me!”

  “I promised nothing of the sort! I merely said that I would not speak of you to anybody else, and I never break my word of honour.”

  She smiled.

  “That I can believe.”

  “Then be a little more explicit, in fact a little more kind than you are being at the moment.”

  “You are making everything very – difficult for – me,” she said. “At the same time – although I believe I am dreaming – it is very – exciting to sit here – talking to you. When I heard you were coming to – stay I could hardly – believe it.”

  “You have heard of me before?”

  “Yes. Papa was interested in your – successes on the – race-course and many years ago he met your father at a Regimental dinner.”

  “So your father talked about me?”

  Giona nodded.

  “Because we lived abroad, he was interested in everyone he had known before he – left England.”

  “Why did you live abroad?”

  She did not answer and the Duke said,

  “Tell me more about your father.”

  “What is the point of remembering him now when he is – dead?”

  There was a tremor in Giona’s voice, which was almost a sob.

  She turned her face away so that the Duke should not see the sudden mistiness in her eyes.

  “Was your father killed in the war?” the Duke asked gently.r />
  She shook her head.

  “No – he died – and so did – Mama, of typhoid in – Naples – two years – ago.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “If only I had – died with – them!”

  It was a cry that seemed to burst from her lips.

  “You must not speak like that,” the Duke said. “You are beautiful and life can be an exciting thing, even though for everybody there are ups and downs.”

  “For me it is very – very – down. I am in the depths – of – despair and there is no – escape!”

  “Why?”

  There was silence and after a moment the Duke asked,

  “Did your father leave you penniless so that you are forced to work for your living?”

  He thought that must be the explanation of why he had mistaken her for a servant and why her grey cotton gown seemed very much the sort of dress a maid would wear.

  Then as if she had been insulted Giona answered angrily,

  “Papa provided for me! He would never – never have left me – penniless! In fact he left me very – wealthy!”

  The Duke raised his eyebrows.

  He could not help looking again at the gown she was wearing, and he could see peeping beneath the hem that her black slippers were worn at the toes.

  “Do stop asking questions,” she said suddenly. “You will – leave me – unhappy and make me – remember the – past – which I am – trying – to forget.”

  There was something very pathetic in the way she spoke, but before the Duke could reply she added quickly,

  “I cannot think why we – started this – conversation – and although it has been more – wonderful than I can possibly tell you to – talk to you – please – go away.

  “I have no wish to do that,” the Duke said firmly.

  “But – you must – you must!” Giona said. “Besides – they might – miss you.”

  “If they do I shall have a very reasonable explanation for my absence.”

  “Then I must – go,” she said, “and please – if you want to – stay please do not – look at me as I – go.” The words came hesitatingly and the Duke stared at her in surprise.

  “You must first give me an explanation for your asking that,” he said.