But she noticed that Lord Hawkston’s clothes, smart though they were, seemed to be a part of him.
He wore them casually and yet she was well aware that they had an elegance that proclaimed all too clearly that they had been tailored in London.
He was standing at the far end of the room as she entered and she was conscious that, as she entered the room, he watched her from under his eyebrows as she walked across towards him.
The Vicar accompanied her.
“This, my Lord, is my daughter, Dominica.”
Lord Hawkston bowed and Dominica swept him a low curtsey. There was a moment’s silence and Dominica wondered why neither of the men spoke.
She had the feeling, perhaps erroneously, that they were feeling for words.
At last her father, clearing his throat, began,
“Lord Hawkston, Dominica, has brought me an unexpected and rather strange proposition and he has asked that you too should listen to what he has to say.”
Dominica raised her grey eyes to her father’s face.
“Yes, Papa?”
Again there was a pause. Then almost as if he found the situation uncomfortable Lord Hawkston said,
“I wonder, Vicar, if you would think it very unconventional if I talk with your daughter alone? I feel that I would like to make my proposition, as you call it, to her myself.”
There was an expression of relief on the Vicar’s face as he replied,
“Of course, my Lord. Perhaps that would be best. I will go and tell my other daughters to prepare tea.”
“Thank you,” Lord Hawkston nodded.
The Vicar went from the room closing the door behind him and Dominica looked at Lord Hawkston apprehensively.
She could not imagine what he wished to say to her or what he could possibly have to propose.
“Suppose we sit down?” Lord Hawkston suggested and the words brought a flush to Dominica’s cheeks.
“I-I am sorry, my Lord.,” she said quickly. “I should have invited you to do so, but I was so surprised to see you that – I am afraid I forgot my manners.”
“I think what I have to say to you will come as an even greater surprise,” Lord Hawkston replied, “but I want you to listen to me and not make up your mind too quickly.”
He seated himself as he spoke on the hard sofa that stood against one wall and he made a little gesture with his hand and after a second’s hesitation Dominica seated herself beside him.
He turned a little sideways to look at her and she felt uncomfortably that he was looking her over in a scrutinising manner that she did not understand.
She had, as Lord Hawkston had suspected, ash-coloured hair with faint silver lights in it. Drawn back from her forehead it was pinned tight into a large bun, which covered the whole back of her head, making him realise that her hair was long and thick.
Her eyes were grey and fringed with dark lashes and the winged eyebrows he had noticed in Church were dark too.
But her skin was translucently fair and very pale so that when she blushed it brought a sudden beauty to her face, almost like the dawn creeping up the morning sky.
She was very thin, but despite the coarse cotton of her gown it was moulded so tightly to her figure that the soft mature swellings of her breasts were easy to discern and her waist was very small and could in fact, Lord Hawkston thought, be spanned by a man’s two hands.
Her fingers, which had played the ancient organ so skilfully, were long and elegant and she placed them now in her lap, almost like a child in school waiting to recite a poem.
“I expect,” Lord Hawkston said at length in his deep voice, “you are wondering why I have called on your father?”
“We seldom have visitors on a Sunday.”
“I apologise for desecrating the Sabbath,” Lord Hawkston replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. “But my excuse is a feeling of urgency to meet you and explain to your father what I require of you.”
“Of me?” Dominica asked.
“This may sound very blunt,” Lord Hawkston said with his eyes on her face, “but I came here to ask your father whether you would consider marrying my nephew, Gerald Warren.”
Dominica made no movement. Only her eyes widened a little as she stared at Lord Hawkston incredulously.
After a moment she said in a voice that seemed to him to be deliberately controlled,
“Is your Lordship – serious?”
“Completely!” he replied. “But let me make myself a little more explicit. My nephew, who has been working on my plantation near Kandy, has been in this country for two years. I arrived the day before yesterday with a young lady from England who he has been secretly engaged to. They were to be married on her arrival, but unfortunately when we reached Colombo I learnt that the young lady in question had changed her mind.”
“Why did she now not wish – to marry him?” Dominica enquired.
“She met someone she preferred on board the ship,” Lord Hawkston explained, “but anyway I am quite certain that she would not have made my nephew a commendable wife.”
Dominica did not speak and after a moment he continued,
“My nephew needs someone to look after him, to give him companionship and relieve the tedium and loneliness that I am sure you will realise is experienced by planters when they are up-country for months on end.”
He paused and then added,
“When I saw you in Church playing the organ so well, coping with the misdemeanours of the choirboys and at the same time giving your father your attention, I felt sure that you are the person I was looking for.”
Dominica drew in her breath.
“How can you be – sure of that, my Lord?”
Lord Hawkston smiled.
“Shall I say I have an instinct for doing the right thing? I survived the coffee slump because I had been fortunate enough to plant some acres of tea on my plantation. It is now a flourishing and lucrative concern. But should my nephew not wish to make his home in Ceylon, I am sure that in a few years it would be possible for you to return to England.”
There was another pause and then Dominica said,
“You said just now that you arrived on Friday and that you had expected your nephew to marry the young lady you brought from England – as soon as you reached here. Was he not very upset that his intended bride – had changed her mind?”
Lord Hawkston liked the way she had worked out for herself the significance of what had occurred and was certain that he had been right in thinking her intelligent and this was the proof of it.
“You are quite right to ask that question, Miss Radford,” he said. “I will be frank with you and say that my nephew has as yet no idea that there has been a change of plan. As it happens he is ill and was unable to meet us in Colombo. I received a letter from him saying that he hopes to meet me in Kandy in a few days.”
“And will you tell him then that – as he cannot have the bride he wanted you have chosen – someone else for him?”
The question was spoken softly, but Lord Hawkston could not help thinking that spoken in another tone it could have sounded sarcastic.
“I think when Gerald realises that he has escaped a very unhappy marriage and meets you he will be quite satisfied with the arrangements that I wish to make for you both.”
Dominica turned her face away to look towards the light coining in through the half-closed blinds.
Lord Hawkston could see her in profile and realised that her bone structure was good.
Attractively dressed and with a less austere hairstyle, he told himself that she would be very pretty.
“Are you seriously – expecting me, my Lord, to say that I will marry a man – I have never met?” Dominica asked after a moment.
“I am asking you to trust me,” Lord Hawkston answered, “when I tell you that my nephew is a good-looking young man, in fact I have been told that some women find him handsome. He is nearly six feet tall, a hard rider to hounds when in England, and is, I believe, equall
y at home on the dance floor.”
“Supposing he – dislikes me?” Dominica asked in a low voice.
“I think in the circumstances he is living now he will welcome with open arms the companionship of an attractive girl who will have his interests at heart and who will make his life comfortable and pleasant.”
Lord Hawkston paused for a moment to continue,
“After all, supposing you had met him two or three times? Supposing you had danced with him? That would constitute enough acquaintanceship for him to ask you to marry him and for you to accept. All I am asking is for you to dispense with such trivial formalities and agree to be his wife, trusting me to have described him fairly.”
Dominica did not reply and after a moment Lord Hawkston went on,
“I am sure it has not escaped your notice that your father, having six daughters, may find it difficult to provide suitable husbands for them all. If you marry my nephew, I intend to settle an adequate amount of money for your comfort and there will be much more when I die.”
Dominica glanced at him swiftly.
“That will surely not be for a long time, my Lord.”
Lord Hawkston smiled.
“I am approaching middle-age and let me assure you that I have no intention of marrying. I have lived alone for so long and have become so used to my own company that I am content to remain a bachelor. In which case Gerald will eventually inherit the title and the family estates and property in England, which are considerable.”
Dominica looked away from him again.
And after a moment she said,
“Mama always said it was – unlucky to wait for dead men’s shoes.”
“But I have promised that you will be comfortable before I am dead.”
She did not turn to look at him and after a moment he went on,
“I have chosen you, Dominica, and I hope you will allow me to call you by your Christian name because when I watched you in Church I felt that you were sensible. I hope you will apply that good sense to this proposition.”
He watched her face as he spoke, liking the sensitiveness and the true calmness of her expression.
“I know it is unusual,” he went on, “unconventional if you like, but I see no reason why you should refuse it on that account. Let me take you to Kandy and up to my plantation. When you meet my nephew, I am sure that you will find you have a great deal in common with each other.”
His voice ceased and Dominica rose from the sofa and walked very slowly across the room.
She pulled up the blind on one of the windows and looked out into the garden.
Sunshine flooded in and Lord Hawkston saw her silhouetted against the golden splendour of it.
She stared out with what he guessed were unseeing eyes.
“What is worrying you?” he asked at length.
“I was thinking – about Mama,” Dominica answered, “and wondering what she would – advise me to say.”
“I think your mother would wish you to marry,” Lord Hawkston responded. “Your father tells me that you are over twenty and most girls of that age are already thinking of a bridal veil.”
“Mama was only eighteen – when she married,” Dominica replied, “but she fell very much in love with Papa – as soon as she saw him.”
“As I am certain that you will fall in love with my nephew,” Lord Hawkston said.
Dominica made no response and after a moment he went on,
“Let me ask you once again to be sensible about this. I have heard that your father does not allow you and your sisters to attend many social functions. How do you suppose any of you will get married if you never meet men and if you are not allowed to go to dances and parties?”
He stopped for a moment and then resumed.
“Do you really envisage living on indefinitely in this house in the years ahead, looking after your sisters and your father, controlling the choirboys, and teaching, as I hear you have been doing this afternoon, in Sunday school? What sort of life is that?”
“I think Mama would have wanted us to have some – gaiety,” Dominica said slowly, “and to meet many more people than we do now, but it angers and upsets Papa when I suggest it.”
Suddenly she turned round to face Lord Hawkston.
“You would not like Faith to marry your nephew?” she asked. “Faith is longing to be married. She wants to meet men and I am sure that she would be very happy to agree to your proposition.”
Lord Hawkston shook his head.
“Faith, as your father told me, is only just eighteen and I have a feeling that she has not your good sense nor your intelligence. Anyway I have made up my mind. I want you, Dominica. I want you to agree to travel with me to Kandy as soon as we have bought your trousseau.”
“Trousseau!”
The exclamation came from Dominica’s lips sharply.
Then before Lord Hawkston could speak she said quickly,
“You must understand, my Lord, it would be impossible for me to have many more gowns – than I already possess or to expend much money on buying new things. Papa would never allow it and besides the money – is not there. You must realise that we are very poor.”
“I am well aware of that,” Lord Hawkston replied, “and I promise you, Dominica, that you shall have a delightful trousseau, the best that Colombo can provide and it will not cost your father a penny.”
“Do you mean that you will pay – for it?”
“Most certainly!”
“But I don’t think Papa – ” Dominica began hesitatingly.
“Leave your father to me,” Lord Hawkston urged her. “As I have already told you, Dominica, I always get my own way. I can easily persuade your father that as far as a trousseau is concerned my way is the best.”
His eyes were on her face as he went on,
“My way is also best where you are concerned. Will you not be content, Dominica, to leave everything in my hands and to let me make the arrangements I think fit? I am quite certain you will never regret it.”
“How can you be – certain?”
“I have pointed out the alternative,” Lord Hawkston replied. “Would it not be better to be the wife of a charming, pleasant young man with a certain amount of money and the prospect of a great deal more, than a future when you will become a frustrated old maid slaving to make ends meet and finding that your efforts seldom evoke much appreciation?”
This was a shrewd thrust that he knew went home.
He had already realised from the talk that he had had with the Vicar that he had very little idea of how much his daughter did and was not in the least grateful for her efforts to keep the house going now that his wife was dead.
Lord Hawkston’s eyes took in all the indecision he could see in Dominica’s face and he knew that his arguments were, although she made little sign of it, causing a sense of chaos within her mind so that it was hard for her to think clearly.
Because he was used to leading men and getting from them exactly what he wanted Lord Hawkston applied the same technique to Dominica.
“Come,” he said in a kindly tone. “You have everything to gain and nothing to lose. Give me your hand and tell me that your answer is ‘yes’.”
He held out his hand as he spoke and hesitatingly, because he expected it of her, Dominica laid her fingers on his. He could feel that they were very cold and they trembled a little.
“Your answer is ‘yes’, is it not?” Lord Hawkston insisted.
“Yes – my Lord,” Dominica answered, but her voice was hardly above a whisper.
Chapter Three
Lord Hawkston did not wait for the tea that had been prepared for him with so much trouble.
He had learnt in the business world that having concluded a difficult negotiation it was always wise to leave before the other party began to regret that he had accepted the proposition and wished to change his mind.
“Don’t disturb your father,” he said to Dominica. “I will leave now, but I will return tomorrow morn
ing and arrange to take you shopping for your trousseau,”
Dominica did not answer and he knew that she felt as if her voice had died in her throat.
“I am very grateful to you,” Lord Hawkston said, “for agreeing to marry my nephew.”
He bowed, Dominica curtseyed and opened the front door for him.
The Governor’s carriage, emblazoned with the British Coat of Arms, its fine horses and silver accoutrements, was looking very resplendent outside the shabby Vicarage.
Dominica could not help feeling that the servants in their elaborate livery looked disdainfully at their surroundings.
A footman opened the door of the open carriage for Lord Hawkston and he stepped into it. Having put a light rug over his Lordship’s knees to keep off the dust, the footman sprang up onto the box and the horses started off.
Lord Hawkston raised his high hat and Dominica curtseyed again.
She stood watching the carriage until it was out of sight and did not know that Lord Hawkston had liked the way she stood quite still, her head held a little defiantly as if she summoned some inner courage to her aid.
‘A very sensible girl,’ he told himself as he drove away. ‘She will be the saving of Gerald and undoubtedly they will deal very well together.’
When there was no longer any sign of the carriage on the unkempt Vicarage drive, Dominica walked back into the house, closed the door and stood for a moment leaning against it as if she needed to support herself against a sudden weakness.
Then she ran into the kitchen at the back of the house where she would find her sisters.
They were all there, Faith was cutting sandwiches and Charity and Hope were arranging the fruit in a wicker basket.
They had been chattering as Dominica entered the room, but immediately they fell silent as they all turned their faces towards her, a question in their eyes.
“What did he want?” Charity asked at once.
Faith, throwing down the butter knife, exclaimed,
“You don’t mean to say he has gone without the tea we are taking so much trouble over! How could you let him go, Dominica, when we all wanted to see him?”
195. Moon Over Eden Page 5