A Shaft of Sunlight

by Barbara Cartland

  The Duke was taken by surprise, yet he avoided the blow, which undoubtedly would have knocked him down, and it only brushed the sleeve of his coat while his top hat fell from his head.

  Then the two men were fighting in a manner which showed to Giona that they were both extremely proficient and experienced pugilists.

  For a moment she was terrified that another blow from Jake would send the Duke spread-eagled on the ground.

  She had been aware of his strength when he had carried her as if she was nothing but a doll down the steps and lifted her into the Phaeton.

  She could see the huge muscles on his arms as he struck out again and again at the Duke and found to his surprise and fury that each blow was ineffective.

  The Duke, after his first astonishment at being attacked, settled down to fight in the experienced manner he had been taught at ‘Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Academy.’

  He was hampered by his coat, which his opponent was not, and he was also aware he was fighting for his life.

  However because he was slimmer, lighter and certainly more agile than Jake, the Duke amazingly seemed to hit him frequently while he himself remained unscathed.

  Then suddenly, so quickly she could hardly believe it had happened, the Duke caught Jake with an upper-cut on the point of the chin.

  His head went back and as he staggered the Duke hit him again and Jake fell backwards on the road to be still.

  As he did so the second prize-fighter holding Hibbert at pistol-point turned his head to watch what had occurred and the valet acted.

  He brought down his hand stiff as a bar of iron on the man’s neck with a blow that was certainly not in the Queensberry Rules, but was the chop of death he had learned from the Chinese on his travels.

  The man fell as if pole-axed, but Giona was only watching the Duke.

  There was a smile of satisfaction on his face at having defeated his opponent and it was then that she was aware that her uncle had drawn his pistol from his right-hand pocket.

  “Well done, Your Grace!” he sneered, “but unfortunately Round Two is still to come!”

  As he raised his pistol dramatically to bring his aim down on his defenceless victim, Giona slipped her hand into the other pocket of her uncle’s coat and pulled out the other pistol.

  Without thinking, without even pausing, she pointed it at his heart and pulled the trigger.

  With a resounding explosion the pistol kicked in her hand and Sir Jarvis after one moment of immobility toppled forward and out of the Phaeton onto the road.

  As he did so his finger must have tightened on the trigger of his pistol, for it went off and the second explosion frightened the Duke’s horses so that they reared up.

  Hibbert desperately tried to keep them under control but they moved the Phaeton backwards and forwards and in doing so upset Sir Jarvis’s horses which until now had been quietly cropping the grass.

  There was a melee of horses and wheels, before the Duke sprang into the seat vacated by Sir Jarvis and taking up the reins tried to control the terrified animals.

  They were bucking and shuffling against each other and only when the two teams had been separated and quietened did Giona give a cry and put out her hands towards the Duke.

  “It is all right,” he said soothingly and put his arm around her.

  “I – I – killed him!” she murmured. “I killed him, as he intended to – kill you!”

  “I realised that.”

  Then as he tried to pull her closer he saw she was strapped to the back of the seat.

  He did not say anything, but undid the buckle with one hand before he asked quietly,

  “You are all right?”

  Giona rested her head against his shoulder, and with an effort she managed to say,

  “I am – all right.”

  “Try not to faint now,” the Duke said. “I have rather a lot to do!”

  It seemed such an odd thing to say that she forgot for a moment about herself as he jumped down from the Phaeton to say to Hibbert,

  “What are we to do with this lot?”

  Hibbert grinned and his eyes were shining.

  “They won’t be doing nothing, Your Grace.”

  He looked down at the ground as he spoke and the Duke realised that in the confusion after the pistol shots the wheels of the Phaeton had passed not only over Sir Jarvis, who was doubtless dead anyway from the shot which Giona had fired at him, but also over Jake.

  The Duke looked at the bodies for a moment, then he said,

  “The only people who would be accountable for this mess would be footpads.”

  “That’s just what I was a-thinking myself, Your Grace.”

  The Duke looked at the man who had been holding up Hibbert and had been felled with the pistol still in his hand.

  He then picked up the pistol, which had fallen with Sir Jarvis and placed it in Jake’s hand.

  Then as if Hibbert realised what was expected of him he tied the reins in a knot and climbed down.

  As they had been together for so long in the war he knew that his master would dislike what was obviously the next task in order to leave a misleading but convincing picture to be discovered.

  It was therefore the Duke who held the bridle of one of his own horses and one of Sir Jarvis’s while Hibbert emptied Sir Jarvis’s pockets, took his watch from his waistcoat, a signet ring from his little finger and a pearl pin from his cravat.

  He then looked at the Duke for orders.

  “Stick them in a rabbit-hole in the wood,” the latter said.

  Hibbert disappeared amongst the trees and the Duke stood watching him go, while Giona was watching him.

  It seemed almost a miracle that he had survived, and although she told herself she ought to feel guilty of having murdered a man, all she could do was to thank God fervently in her heart that the Duke was safe.

  “Thank you! Thank you!” she whispered and her prayer sounded like music that might have come from the birds in the trees.

  Hibbert came back and the Duke said,

  “The sooner we get out of here the better! Somebody will shortly be coming this way.”

  “I was thinking that meself, Your Grace.”

  “Then let us waste no more time.”

  The Duke released the bridle of the horse, which had belonged to Sir Jarvis, and going to the side of the Phaeton held out his arms.

  For a moment Giona thought she was still too frightened to move.

  Then because she knew it would be like touching Heaven to be close to him, she moved towards him and he lifted her from the Phaeton and carried her across to his own.

  He set her gently down next to the driving-seat and as Hibbert jumped up behind he turned his bays with an expertise that only a Corinthian could achieve.

  Then they were moving swiftly away from the three dead men lying in the roadway.

  They only went a short distance up the road before the Duke drove into a field and by driving the other side of the trees brought them back again onto the road which led to the Dower House.

  It was only then that he spoke for the first time, aware that Giona was sitting limply beside him, too exhausted for the moment to be able to think of anything except that he was safe and she no longer need be afraid.

  “You are all right?” he asked again.

  “You are – safe!”

  “Thanks to you,” he said quietly, “and I will talk to you about that later. Now it is very important that you should do exactly as I tell you.”

  She looked up at him with wide eyes and he went on,

  “Nobody must be aware that either you or I were present at that regrettable and dramatic event that has just taken place.”

  He drove his horses slowly as he went on,

  “In a short time we shall be informed that footpads, and there are quite a number of different types in this neighbourhood, have held up a gentleman who was on his way to call on me at Alverstode House, robbed and killed him.”

  He pa
used before he continued slowly,

  “It will seem a somewhat complicated crime, because obviously a third man must have got away with the spoils, having quarrelled with his confederates.”

  Giona drew in her breath.

  “Uncle – Jarvis,” she said with a tremble in her voice, “intended that you should appear to have been – killed by – highwaymen.”

  “But I am alive, Giona,” the Duke said. “Now you do understand there must be no question of your knowing anything of what occurred?”

  She nodded.

  “I know you are intelligent enough to act a part which is going to be difficult for you, but will save both you and me from a lot of very uncomfortable questioning.”

  The Duke thought as he spoke that nothing could be worse than if Giona was suspected even of being present when her uncle had died, let alone of being instrumental in killing him.

  “I am relying on you,” he said, “and because I believe you are clever, I am asking you to save us both by a piece of acting which would be greatly applauded if you were on the boards.”

  “I will – try.”

  “I know you will,” the Duke smiled. “What I want you to do is to walk home from here and say that your uncle only took you with him a short distance because he wished to speak to you alone.”

  “That man, you knocked down, picked me up from the bottom of the stairs and carried me out to the Phaeton.”

  “Who saw it happen?” the Duke asked sharply.

  “Only Simpson.”

  “Tell him it was a joke, the sort of thing your uncle thought funny. You must be convincing.”

  He took her hand and kissed it.

  “I will see you later today,” he said. “Remember everything depends on your appearing as if nothing untoward has happened.”

  He brought the horses to a standstill and Giona saw that the lodge gate was only about twenty yards ahead.

  “You are – safe,” she said in a very low voice, as if she was confirming it to herself rather than to him.

  “And so are you, for the rest of your life,” the Duke replied quietly.

  Their eyes met and it was difficult to look away.

  Then Giona climbed down from the Phaeton and started to walk along the road to the gate.

  She was aware as she did so that the Duke was turning his horses once more and driving back along the road.

  But as she walked on Giona was conscious of those words that repeated and repeated themselves in the beat of her heart,

  “He is safe! He is safe!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I think I will go upstairs and rest,” the Duchess said as she and Giona walked from the dining room.

  “I think you – would be wise – ma’am.”

  Giona spoke in a hesitating voice that made the Duchess look at her sharply.

  “A rest would doubtless do you good,” she said. “You are looking as pale as when you first came here.”

  “I think it is the – heat,” Giona answered quickly. “I will go into the garden and get some fresh air.”

  “Yes, do that,” the Duchess agreed. “Perhaps my grandson will be here at teatime to tell us what has delayed him.”

  Giona did not say anything and when the Duchess had walked slowly up the stairs she turned and went onto the terrace.

  She had taxed her self-control almost to breaking point in playing the part the Duke had demanded of her.

  When she had got back to the Dower House Simpson was hovering in the hall in an agitated state.

  “What happened to you, Miss Giona?” he asked. “Why were you carried off in that extraordinary way? I were a-wondering what to do about it?”

  With a superhuman effort Giona managed a light laugh.

  “It was just a joke on the part of my uncle,” she said. “He meant to surprise me, and succeeded. When we had gone a short way he told me I could walk back. It is the sort of trick he thinks is funny.”

  The anxiety in Simpson’s old eyes cleared.

  “So that’s what it was all about, miss!” he exclaimed. “I was a-fearing all sorts of strange things might have happened, and were just about to send out the grooms to search for you!”

  “There is nothing stranger than that I have got my slippers dusty,” Giona replied. “I will go upstairs and change them.”

  She went up to her bedroom and to her relief there was nobody there, the housemaids having finished tidying it.

  She sat down in a chair and for a moment the room seemed to swim around her and darkness came up from the floor.

  Then she told herself that the Duke trusted her, that it was far too soon to collapse and she must act her part so skilfully that, as he intended, nobody would have the slightest suspicion of what had happened.

  But as the morning progressed she could only think that she should be more ashamed of having killed a man, even though in doing so she had saved the Duke.

  But was he safe from scandal and from the gossip which would inevitably involve him if anybody learned by some mischance what had really happened?

  She was well aware what a story the chatterers in the Social World would make of the fact that the Duke had fought Sir Jarvis, and that his daughter wished to marry Lucien who had not proposed.

  And worst of all, she, Sir Jarvis’s niece, had somehow become entangled with the Duke of Alverstode.

  What would be thought, what would be said, and what the newspapers would print whirled around in Giona’s mind until she knew the only thing to dispel the feeling that she might go insane with anxiety was to see the Duke.

  She began to count the hours until there was a chance of his appearing.

  She had to calculate how long it would be before somebody found the three dead men lying in the road, and if – which was likely – it was one of the Duke’s employees he would report it first to the Duke’s house before there was any question of telling the Magistrates.

  Even so, Giona was certain that the Duke would somehow keep free from all the consternation and speculation and come to luncheon.

  She found herself listening for the wheels of his Phaeton drawing up outside the front door, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that she did not run to look out of the windows every five minutes to see if there was any sign of his horses coming down the drive.

  When at last there was the sound of hoofs on the gravel it was only a groom carrying a note to the Duchess.

  The Duchess, who by this time was downstairs, read it and handed it to Giona.

  For a moment the Duke’s strong, upright writing seemed to swim in front of her eyes, then she read,

  “Forgive Me, Grandmama, if I cannot have luncheon with you, as I had hoped, but I am detained by some tiresome business. However I hope I may be with you sometime during the afternoon.

  I remain,

  Your affectionate and respectful grandson,

  Valerian.”

  “ ‘Some tiresome business’,” Giona repeated beneath her breath, and prayed that he was not making too light of something that was very serious.

  Now as she walked among the roses thinking of the Duke a sudden thought made her feel as if she had been struck a heavy blow.

  If, in fact, no serious difficulties arose from Sir Jarvis’s death, not only would the Duke be safe, but so would she!

  In which case there would be no need for him to protect her any further.

  She had been so terrified of her uncle, and he had menaced her for so long, that it was only now that she was gradually realising that if he was dead then she was a free person and could go anywhere she liked.

  If this had happened to her when she was at Stamford Towers she knew she would have felt like a caged bird that could suddenly fly up into the sky.

  But now she knew in becoming free she would lose the Duke.

  He had taken care of her and helped her to escape and brought her here to safety only because he felt sorry for her! And she was aware, without his telling her, that he loathed cruelty of
any sort.

  She was sure she meant nothing to him as a woman, and that only his sense of justice and his compassion had impelled him to save her from degradation and death.

  Now he would no longer be interested!

  Instead of feeling happy about her future, she could only see the loneliness and emptiness of it.

  She would have money, for the Duke would see to it that what her father had left would be restored to her. Then he would return to his friends, his sports, the responsibilities of his distinguished position, while she would be left with nothing but an aching heart.

  ‘I love him!’ she thought, ‘but what could my love mean to him when any of the famous beauties that surround the Regent can be his for the asking?’

  She had heard of his successes from the Duchess, who liked to talk of the scandals of the Beau Monde. Without really meaning to she had said so many things that enlightened Giona as to her grandson’s attractions.

  Her comments on what appeared in the Social Columns of ‘The Times’ and ‘The Morning Post’ often brought strange stabs of pain, although Giona did not at first realise why she was distressed.

  “I see that Lady Mary Crewson was in attendance at Buckingham Palace this week,” the Duchess had remarked yesterday. “I always found her a tiresome woman, but very beautiful. I suppose I can understand what Valerian saw in her, although his interest did not last long.”

  The Engagement Column always evoked revealing. remarks.

  “So the Duke of Northumberland’s daughter is engaged at last!” the Dowager had exclaimed one morning. “I thought she was still wearing the willow for Valerian. She would have made him a very suitable wife but he would not look at her!”

  Women and more women!

  Giona was sure they were all as beautiful as the sunrise, or as the moonlight flooding the valley when she and the Duke had sat together on the fallen tree.

  Without realising where she was going, Giona found her way to the arbour and sat down on the seat. She tried to steel herself against what she was sure the Duke would say to her when finally he arrived.

  She wondered why he was so long?

  Perhaps the Chief Constable suspected that the scene they had set to suggest a quarrel among footpads was not genuine. If he suspected the Duke of having killed her uncle, then she would have to clear him by telling the truth.