There was a large number of men who disliked dancing, as the Duke did normally, standing about under the trees where there was a table containing drinks of every sort, which were also obtainable in the room next to the ball room.
Because it was a warm night most people preferred to be out of doors and as the Duke emerged with his partner on his arm he walked up to two men he knew well.
“Hello, Dawlish!” he said to the man nearest to him. “Would you be so obliging as to fetch my partner and me a glass of champagne? We have both pleased our host by dancing to his Orchestra on an overcrowded floor, and we certainly deserve some refreshment.”
Lord Dawlish laughed.
“I was surprised to see you dancing, Alverstode,” he said. “I thought you never took to the floor.”
“Shall I say that Lady Mary tempted me?” the Duke replied. “I think you all know one another?”
They did, and Lady Mary who was very conscious of her charm exerted it to keep the three gentlemen amused.
It was only after a little time that the Duke said,
“Excuse me for a moment. There is somebody over there to whom I must speak.”
“A man or a woman?” Lady Mary questioned.
“Definitely a man, and definitely about a horse!” the Duke replied and they all laughed.
He moved away from them and vanished into the shadows, before hurrying across the unlit part of the garden which led him to the cascade.
He found the steps and because he knew how late it was he almost ran through the wood.
The stars and the moon, which was high in the Heavens, made the view that he had seen last night in the sunset even more breathtaking tonight.
But the Duke had eyes only for the fallen tree trunk a little to his right, and it was with an inexpressible relief that he saw that Giona was waiting for him.
“Good-evening!” he said as he sat down beside her. “It was difficult for me to get away.”
“I knew it would be, I did not really expect you would come,” she replied. “Besides, I was quite certain you were only a – dream.”
“I promise you I am very real, and I have been thinking about you,” the Duke replied.
He saw her eyes widen in the light from the moon. Her face seemed very pale, and he thought she looked even thinner than she had been the night before.
“Have you had anything to eat all day?” he asked.
She gave a little laugh.
“How can you remember things like that? As a matter of fact everybody forgot me as they had so much to do.”
The Duke took something from the tails of his evening-coat.
“I thought that might be the case,” he said, “so I brought you this.”
As he spoke he put down on her knee one of his fine linen handkerchiefs in which were wrapped a number of finely cut pâté sandwiches.
During the dances he had managed to find them in one of the sitting-out rooms, which for the moment was empty, and had quickly transferred the whole plateful into his handkerchief.
Giona looked at them.
Then she asked, “They are pâté?”
“Yes.”
“How can you think of anything so – wonderful? I have almost forgotten what it tastes like, except sometimes in the night I pretend I am eating it again. It will be very much more delicious than the thick slabs of cold mutton which appear to be the staple diet in the servants’ hall.”
“I thought the sandwiches would please you,” the Duke said.
Giona wrapped them up again in his handkerchief and said,
“I am not going to eat them now because I want to concentrate on every mouthful, which I cannot do if you are beside me.”
“Now this is what I came to tell you,” the Duke said. “I am leaving first thing on Monday morning at about eight-thirty, with the excuse that I am in a hurry to get to London.”
Giona stiffened as if she thought that after this she would never see him again, but he went on,
“And you are coming with me!”
“Y – you mean – that?”
“All we have to decide is where I pick you up.”
Giona thought for a moment.
Then she said,
“There is a thick belt of trees about two or three hundred yards from the main lodge. They are enclosed by a fence which is easy to climb.”
“You will be there?”
“If you really mean you will – take me with – you.”
“You know I never break my promises.”
“I shall be – able to bring – very little with me.”
“There is no need for you to bring anything,” the Duke said. “Besides, it might make anyone suspicious who saw you leaving the house carrying a bundle.”
“I thought that myself.”
“Then just saunter away as if you were going for a walk, and leave me to do everything else.”
Giona clasped her hands together.
“I am – dreaming! I know I am – dreaming!”
“You are awake,” the Duke said firmly, “and you have to use all your intelligence to make sure that nothing stops you from reaching the trees you have described to me.”
“I shall never be able to – thank you.”
“There is no time for that now. I think it would be a mistake, even though I would like to see you again, for me to come here again tomorrow evening.”
Giona nodded.
Her face was turned to his and the Duke saw that now she was looking at him with an expression of trust and something akin to adoration, which he found very touching.
“Keep out of Sir Jarvis’s way tomorrow,” he said, “and remember that the darkest hour is always before the dawn.”
“Not nearly as – dark as it – was,” Giona said. “Ever since we met last night there has been a – hope in my heart that seemed to come to me from the – stars.”
“Go on believing and thinking that until Monday morning,” the Duke said. “Now I must leave you.”
“Yes – of course.”
“Your back is better?”
“Much – much better!” she answered, but he knew she was just being brave.
He put out his hand, took hers and raised it to his lips.
“Until Monday morning,” he said, “and come hell or high water I will be waiting for you!”
She gave a little laugh as if she appreciated the expression.
Then as the Duke rose to leave he asked,
“By the way, there is somebody employed at the house, or perhaps outside, who is called ‘Jack’. Who is he – ?”
The Duke knew by the way Giona started that his question surprised her.
“Why do you wish to know?” she asked.
“Is there any reason why you cannot tell me who he is?”
“N – No I suppose – not.”
The Duke waited and after a moment Giona said,
“I think you must be speaking of Jack Huntsman.”
“What does he do? Is he an employee of Sir Jarvis?”
“He schools the horses – and trains those bred on the estate.”
“Anything else?”
“I think you should – ask somebody else about him.”
“I am asking you as it might arouse suspicion if Sir Jarvis thought I am inquisitive about any of his staff or about anybody here.”
The Duke thought as he spoke that he was taking a rather unfair advantage. At the same time, here was obviously another mystery, and the sooner he solved it the better.
Giona was aware of the implications of what he said and after a startled little glance at him she said,
“He – he gives – Claribel – riding lessons.”
“Thank you.”
The Duke had learnt what he wished to know and thought it was something he might have suspected.
Giona had risen to stand beside him and he thought in the moonlight how very slim and insubstantial she looked and in her grey gown appeared to be part of the shadows.
/> There was only the light in her eyes to reassure him that she was not just a shadow.
“Goodnight, Giona!” he said in his deep voice. “Take care of yourself until Monday. We have a long drive in front of us, and I would not have you fainting on my hands.”
“I would not do that,” Giona replied, “and thank you for the sandwiches.”
“I hope you will have more than sandwiches to thank me for in a few days’ time.”
Then he was hurrying away through the trees and only when he was out of sight and she could no longer hear his footsteps did Giona sit down on the trunk of the tree again.
She looked for a long time over the moonlit valley beneath her as she prayed that what the Duke had planned would come true.
*
Nobody rose at all early the following morning because the dance had not finished until dawn came up over the horizon and the stars faded in the sky.
The Duke went riding an hour later than usual, but even so he awoke at his usual time and once again was beset by the problems of Giona, Sir Jarvis and Lucien who appeared every moment to be becoming more entangled with Claribel.
However nobody was aware that he was anything but at his ease as he joined the gentlemen at breakfast.
Quite a number of them were drinking brandy instead of eating the food waiting on a side-table in silver entree dishes kept hot by lighted candles beneath them.
“You look disgustingly healthy, Alverstode!” one of his friends remarked as he sat down at the table.
“You should not drink so much,” the Duke replied. “You know as well as I do that one pays for every glass the following morning.”
“I know that!” his friend groaned, “but I find it impossible to keep awake without it.”
The Duke ate an excellent breakfast, drank with it his usual two cups of coffee, and then left the room to find out if the newspapers had been delivered.
The butler in the hall informed him that today’s and yesterday’s newspapers were in the library and the Duke found not only the papers, but to his satisfaction that there was nobody to disturb him.
He therefore settled down to read the Parliamentary Reports and the Racing News. He had nearly finished the latter when Sir Jarvis came into the room.
“I heard you were here,” he said, “and have come to tell you that we are going down to the stables where one of my men is breaking in a new stallion, a superlative animal which I think might interest you.”
The Duke knew he would be indeed most interested and followed Sir Jarvis without asking any questions.
When they reached the paddock, which lay beyond the stables, he heard Sir Jarvis say to the man who was waiting for them,
“Bring out Rufus, Jack, and let us see how you handle him.”
The Duke had heard exactly what he had hoped for and expected, and he was more interested in the man who was handling the horse than the horse itself.
Jack Huntsman was, he thought, over thirty, a good-looking somewhat raffish man, with an insolent air, which would undoubtedly gain him a lot of success with women.
His physique was almost perfect, slim, and broad shouldered, and while definitely not a gentleman he was a cut above the grooms who worked in the stables.
Rufus was spirited, obstreperous, and determined to unseat the man on his back, but there was no doubt Huntsman was a good rider and an experienced one.
He was however, the Duke thought, a little more severe with the spur and the whip than was necessary for such a young animal.
They watched for about twenty minutes, until as if Sir Jarvis thought the Duke might be bored, he said,
“I have several other horses for you to see which were out to grass yesterday, but I have had them brought in for you to have a look at them.”
“I have a feeling you are trying to make me jealous,” the Duke said.
“On the contrary, I am still interested in the idea of a certain co-operation between us.”
The Duke wondered what Sir Jarvis would say if he replied that he would rather co-operate with the devil.
Instead he merely answered enigmatically,
“I am always interested in new ideas.”
Then he changed the subject by asking Sir Jarvis what horse he was entering for the races at Ascot.
To the Duke the day seemed interminable, the hours passing slowly while he was well aware that Lucien was becoming every moment more closely involved with Claribel.
They sat together, talked together, and in the afternoon they went driving in one of Sir Jarvis’s High Perched Phaetons.
At dinner the Viscount was naturally placed on Claribel’s right and she made no effort to speak to the man on her other side.
After dinner several of the guests wandered outside onto the terrace, but the Duke settled himself at the card-table and played for high stakes until one of his opponents threw down his cards saying as he did so,
“You are too damned lucky, Alverstode, and I am too damned sleepy. I am going to bed.”
“And so am I,” the Duke’s partner said. “I am getting too old for late nights.”
He was not the only one.
The ladies were definitely not looking as beautiful as they had the night before, and were all ready to proceed up the stairs, most of them carrying lighted candles in gold stands.
Hibbert was waiting in the Duke’s bedroom but when he came to take off his evening-coat the Duke held up his hand.
“What I want you to do, Hibbert,” he said in a low voice, “is to find out how I can reach the stables without being seen. How can I manage it?”
“Is it something I can do for Your Grace?” Hibbert asked.
“No, I want to go myself.”
“Best wait a little while, Your Grace.”
“I agree,” the Duke said, “but not too long.”
Hibbert left him to come back about ten minutes later.
There was no need for either of them to speak. The Duke merely followed Hibbert along the main corridor where half the lights had already been extinguished, and down a narrow staircase to the ground floor.
They moved through twisting passages until they reached a door Hibbert unbolted and unlocked to let the Duke out.
“You’ll be able to find your way back, Your Grace?” he whispered.
The Duke thought that if he could find his way about Portugal and France with the hopelessly inadequate maps with which the troops had been issued, he could find his way back to his bedroom at Stamford Towers.
Outside he took his bearings and set off in the direction of the stables.
He had noticed this morning that there was a large barn filled with hay set rather picturesquely amongst some birch trees.
It did not appear to be in use, or perhaps the hay was just in reserve for an emergency, but it struck the Duke it would be a very romantic place for a rendezvous and was near the house.
He moved towards it keeping in the shadows until he finally found a place where he could hide behind some rhododendron bushes.
Then he settled himself comfortably, aware that if he were wrong in his supposition, he would have a long wait and what would prove to be a pointless waste of time.
And yet his instinct, that had never failed him yet, told him unmistakably that he was on the right tack and as usual his instinct was right.
After he had been waiting for about a quarter-of an-hour there was a sound from the direction of the house and from another door came a figure in a dark blue velvet cloak over a white evening gown.
Claribel, for that was who the Duke knew it was, kept close to a hedge of flowering fuchsias overshadowed by chestnut trees.
When she had nearly reached the Barn, the Duke was aware that somebody else had come out of the darkness of it and was waiting for her.
One quick glance told him that it was Jack Huntsman and he only waited a few more seconds to see them disappear.
Then hurriedly but silently he retraced his steps back to the house, along the passage
s, and up the stairs to the main corridor where his own bedroom was situated.
He did not stop there however, but hurried on for quite a long way until he reached the room where he knew Lucien was sleeping.
Just for a moment he hesitated, wondering whether he was doing the right thing.
Disillusionment could, as the Duke knew personally, be very painful and leave a scar for a long time.
And yet, the alternative was worse, to be married to a woman who was promiscuous and who would swear eternal fidelity while she was still enamoured with another man.
The Duke’s lips were set in a hard line as he opened the bedroom door without knocking.
*
Lucien had not felt tired when he went to bed. He had been too elated at the things Claribel had said to him.
“Think how wonderful it will be when we are married,” she had said in her soft, beguiling voice. “We can give even bigger and better parties than Papa gave last night.”
“I am not interested in parties,” Lucien said, “only in being with you.”
“We shall be together,” Claribel said, “but it will be exciting to entertain and to stay with your Guardian.”
“I want to show you Alverstode,” Lucien said, “but more important to me, is Frome House. It is not so big or perhaps so magnificent, but it is beautiful, and when my mother was alive everybody said parties at Frome were more amusing than they enjoyed anywhere else.”
“Did you entertain Royalty?” Claribel asked. “Royalty is usually rather boring because there is so much pomp and circumstance involved.
“Nevertheless, that is what I would enjoy,” she said, “and you will arrange it for me, will you not?”
“You know I will do anything that you want,” Lucien had replied passionately. “Tell me that you love me, and that no other man has ever mattered to you in the same way.”
“You know that I love you,” Claribel said, “but you must not be jealous.”
“I am jealous!” Lucien insisted. “I hate your dancing with anybody but me. I hate the way men look at you, and if a man flirts with you when we are married, I swear I will kill him!”
Claribel gave a very pretty laugh.
“Oh dearest, there is no need for such dramatics. Once we are married, I will be your wife.”
“The most beautiful, adorable, exciting wife any man ever had,” Lucien said.
A Shaft of Sunlight Page 6