Call of the Heart

by Barbara Cartland

  They were free now and each highwayman was riding his own horse and leading one of His Lordship’s by the bridle.

  There was one still unattended. The highwayman dropped her arm.

  “There be no time!” he said as he pushed Lord Rothwyn’s pistol into his belt. “Pity! Ye’re a pretty piece!”

  He mounted his horse and rode to join the others.

  He took the spare horse by the bridle and then so quickly it seemed incredible they disappeared amongst the trees.

  Even as they went it began to rain.

  Lalitha looked at Lord Rothwyn.

  “I will see to your arm,” she said, “but first we had best get under cover. Do you think you could walk to the shelter of the trees?”

  “Yes, of course,” he answered.

  She saw with consternation that the side of his coat was soaked crimson with the blood from the wound and there was a tight look round his mouth.

  She got out of the curricule and hurried round it to help him alight.

  But he managed without her and walked quite steadily towards the trees.

  Lalitha turned to Ned.

  “I will come and release you in a moment,” she told him. “I must first find somewhere for His Lordship to sit without getting wet.”

  “Oi be all right, M’Lady,” Ned answered.

  As they moved to where the trees were thick and the branches would prevent the worst of the rain beating down on them, Lalitha gave a little cry.

  Immediately ahead was a wooden hut roughly made of split tree trunks.

  It had obviously been put up by the wood-cutters who must have been working in this part of the forest.

  She ran ahead, opened the door, and felt a wave of hot air.

  There were only a few red ashes left in what was a roughly improvised fire-place but there had been a fire there perhaps only a few hours earlier.

  She left the door open and ran back to Lord Rothwyn, who was moving slowly and slightly unsteadily through the trees.

  “I have found a hut where we can shelter,” she said breathlessly.

  “That is a relief,” he replied, but she knew that he spoke with an effort.

  She helped him in through the door, which was so low that he had to bow his head, and he sank down on the sandy floor as if exhausted.

  When she’d left the curricule, Lalitha had carried with her the small bundle of possessions she had brought from Roth Park.

  Now she opened it, saying:

  “I am going to cut the sleeve away from your coat so that I can bandage your arm. I will try not to hurt you and it will be impossible to get your coat off without it being extremely painful.”

  “Thank you,” Lord Rothwyn replied.

  Lalitha had only her embroidery scissors, which were not large, but somehow she managed to cut through the super-fine cloth of Lord Rothwyn’s superbly tailored coat and remove the sleeve.

  She then had to cut away more of the shoulder, to find that the wound was almost at the top of his arm.

  She thought, although she was not sure, that the bullet had passed through the flesh and had not shattered the bone.

  But there was too much blood for her to be certain of anything.

  It dripped down Lord Rothwyn’s arm, ran down his side, and seemed to cover everything, including her hands, with a sticky crimson tide.

  Finally when the wound was fully exposed Lalitha made a thick pad of the lawn and silk under-clothes that she had packed in her bundle.

  She pressed it into place to staunch the flow of blood and bandaged it with her night-gown after she had torn it into strips.

  By the time she had finished she could see even in the dim darkness of the hut that Lord Rothwyn was very pale, and she knew that he must be suffering considerable pain.

  “I must now go and release Ned,” she said.

  “There is a flask of brandy in the curricule,” Lord Rothwyn said. “Will you be kind enough to bring it to me.”

  “But of course,” she answered. “Why did you not say so before?”

  She ran as quickly as she could to be curricule.

  By this time it was raining hard.

  She snatched up the brandy and also the rug which had covered her gown and hurried back to the hut.

  She opened the flask, gave it into Lord Rothwyn’s hand, and picking up her scissors went to Ned.

  It was quite a job to hack through the thick rope which the highwayman had used to bind him to the tree.

  She tried first to untie the knot, but she found it was beyond the strength of her fingers.

  “Oi’ll get ’elp, M’Lady,” Ned said when at last he was free. “Yes, please do,” Lalitha answered. “I am afraid it is quite a long way back to the last village. We seem to have passed it a long time ago.”

  “Oi may ’ave t’ go further than that, M’Lady,” Ned answered. “Those small hamlets are not likely to ’ave any sort of conveyance in which we could get His Lordship ’ome.” “No, I suppose not,” Lalitha said with a sigh. “In which case, Ned, could we not take the cushions fro m the curricule into the hut to make His Lordship more comfortable? There has been a fire there.”

  “Oi’ll re-light it for ye, M’Lady,” Ned said. ‘At least you’ll be warm and ‘ll be able to see while Oi am away.”

  He pulled the cushions from the curricule, carried them to the hut, and helped Lalitha arrange them so that Lord Rothwyn could sit on one and lean back against another.

  By this time it was almost impossible to see until Ned got the fire alight.

  Fortunately there were great stacks of logs just outside. Also, the wood-cutters, experienced in making themselves at home under any circumstances, had arranged a kind of rough chimney in the roof, which drew away the smoke.

  ‘Oi’ll be off now, M’Lord,” Ned said. Oi’ll be as quick as Oi can.”

  “Thank you, Ned,” Lord Rothwyn answered.

  He was looking better, Lalitha thought, since he had drunk some brandy.

  As she replaced the top of the flask she was thankful that the highwayman had not noticed it in the pocket with the pistol.

  Ned disappeared into the darkness outside, having first brought in a pile of logs which Lalitha reckoned should last them for several hours.

  She sat down on a cushion.

  Noticing that Lord Rothwyn was holding his wounded arm in a somewhat uncomfortable manner, she gave an exclamation and rising went out of the hut.

  A few seconds later she was back again, carrying in her hand her petticoat, which she had removed outside.

  She laid it out on the ground and with her scissors cut out a sling.

  Very gently she tied it round Lord Rothwyn’s neck so that it supported his elbow.

  “Is that better?” she asked.

  “I can see you are a very competent Nurse!”

  “I am only praying I have done the right thing,” Lalitha answered. “Mama was so good at bandaging. They always sent for her if anyone was injured in the village, especially the children. But while I have helped her I have never had to do it all by myself before.”

  “I am very grateful.”

  She looked at him a little uncertainly and said in a low voice:

  “It is all my . . . fault that this has . . . happened to you. How can I ever . . . pay you back for the . . . loss of your horses?”

  “We might have lost worse things!” Lord Rothwyn replied dryly.

  She thought that he was referring to the fact that the highwayman might have killed him.

  Then she remembered her sudden fear as the highway man had put out his hand towards her and felt herself tremble.

  “It is all right!” Lord Rothwyn said quietly, as if he read her thoughts. “It is all over now. We only have to endure a long wait until Ned brings help. I suggest you sit closer to me and the rug can cover us both.”

  “Yes, of course,” Lalitha agreed. “That would be sensible.”

  She moved her cushion and could not help a little thrill that passed t
hrough her because she could feel his body against hers.

  She was with him, touching him, and she had thought only a short time ago that she would never see him again!

  She felt a little paean of thanks giving rise in her heart.

  “I am afraid we shall miss our dinner!” Lord Rothwyn said. “And it was to be a very special occasion!” “I am very . . . happy as it is,” Lalitha answered.

  “You were extremely brave,” Lord Rothwyn remarked in a low voice, “and because I am afraid all this will have overtired you, I want you to drink a little brandy.”

  Lalitha was about to expostulate that she did not like brandy, but then she thought that it would be a mistake to argue.

  He was wounded and she must do as he wanted. She also thought that his arm might be hurting him, and therefore it might be a good idea for him to have another drink.

  She took several small sips from the flask and felt the brandy burn its way down through her body.

  It dispelled the last little quivering feeling of fear that had not dispersed even when the highwaymen went away.

  She knew when she began to think about it that she was still shocked from that moment of terror when she had seen Lord Rothwyn shot.

  She handed him the flask.

  He drank quiet an appreciable amount of what brandy was left, and she screwed the top back onto the bottle.

  “Are you warmer?” he asked.

  “I am . . . quite ... all right. It is ... you we must . . . worry . . . about.”

  She rose to put a few more logs on the fire, and when she rejoined him she saw that he had slipped a little further down against the cushions so that he no longer had to hold his head upright.

  “The most sensible thing we could do,” he said in a tired voice, “would be to try to get some sleep.”

  “Let us try to do that,” Lalitha agreed.

  He yawned and she knew that it was the reaction of what he had passed through, and also he had lost a lot of blood.

  He shut his eyes and she turned her head to look at him in the light of the fire.

  He was so incredibly handsome! she thought. She was here alone with him and did not have to say good-bye to him forever.

  What had happened? What had he said to Sophie and why had he followed her?

  There were a dozen questions to which she wanted the answers, but she knew that this was not the moment to ask them.

  All she could do now was to be content with what the gods had given back to her.

  The man she loved was beside her and whatever the future held, she could be with him for at least a little while longer. “I love you!” she wanted to say aloud.

  Instead she said it in her heart over and over again!

  ‘I love you! I love you! ’

  Chapter Six,

  Lalitha was awakened by a house-maid coming quietly into the room to pull back the curtains.

  Without moving she lay for a moment watching the golden glow of the sun-shine spread over the ceiling and envelop the whole room.

  The maid was followed by Nattie, bringing in a collar and lead for Royal so that he could be taken for a walk in the garden.

  It was over a week, Lalitha thought, since they had come back to London.

  When Ned had finally brought a conveyance, it had been a shorter journey for them to Rothwyn House than back to the country, and also, Lalitha knew, it was important for Lord Rothwyn to see a Surgeon immediately.

  It had been dawn before she had heard foot-steps coming through the wood towards the hut.

  Lord Rothwyn was asleep and very gently so as not to startle him she said quietly:

  “Ned has returned.”

  He opened his eyes and realised that Lalitha held him in her arms and his head was against her breast.

  At first when he had suggested that they both should go to sleep he had relaxed with his head back against the cushions brought in from the curricule.

  It did not look very comfortable but at least his injured arm was free of all contact which could have hurt it.

  As Lalitha lay awake beside him, thinking of him and of her love for him, he became a little restless.

  He murmured in his sleep and she guessed that his wound was hurting him and he might have a fever.

  She did not know what to do, but sat as near as possible watching him in the light of the fire for fear he should move about roughly so that he would start his wound bleeding again.

  Then unexpectedly slipping still lower against the cushions, he had turned towards her. Automatically her arms went round him.

  He put his head against her breast and, as if that was what he had been seeking, fell into a deep slumber.

  At first she was too frightened to move, almost to breathe, but then the feeling of him so close against her awakened a strange sensation she had never known before.

  She loved him desperately but what she now felt was not only love for a man who was strong and masculine, as she had already told herself, out of reach.

  It was also a love that had something protective, compassionate, and maternal in it.

  She wanted to save Lord Rothwyn from all that was unpleasant, harsh, and evil in life.

  For the moment she felt as if he were a child whom she must defend against unhappiness, misery, and loneliness.

  Her arms tightened round him and now by just bending her head a little she could touch his hair with her lips. It was soft and silky and as she kissed it she felt ashamed of her own daring.

  But he would never know, she thought, and when he was no longer interested in her she would always have this moment to remember, when she could feel the nearness of his head against her breast and he had turned to her as if seeking something which only she could give him.

  She did not sleep and although her arm became numb and cramped she did not move.

  She knew that this was an ecstasy and a wonder that she had never known before and which in some strange manner made up for all she had suffered in the past years.

  This was something no-one, not even Sophie, could take away from her and for the rest of her life she would treasure it in her heart.

  When Lord Rothwyn awakened he realised how he was lying and for a moment he did not move, but just as Ned reached the door of the hut he straightened himself.

  Without looking at him Lalitha moved away from his side, conscious that her arm was very painful, yet she forced herself to speak quite naturally as she asked:

  “You have brought a carriage with you, Ned?”

  “A comfortable one, M’Lady!”

  “That is good!”

  “Help me to my feet, Ned,” Lord Rothwyn commanded.

  As the groom hastened to obey him Lalitha, pulling her cloak around her shoulders, walked ahead to where the carriage was

  waiting.

  They drove the few miles to London almost in silence.

  When they reached Rothwyn House Lord Rothwyn was helped upstairs and Lalitha, because she was concerned only with his health, asked that a groom go at once in search of a Surgeon.

  “His Lordship employs Mr. Henry Clive, My Lady,” the Major-Domo informed her. “He is one of the Specialists who attends His Royal Highness.”

  “Then ask him to come here as quickly as possible,” Lalitha said. “Who is His Lordship’s Physician?”

  “That will be Sir William Knighton,” the Major-Domo answered, “one of his Royal Highness’s Physicians-in-Ordinary.”

  They had both been sent for and only after she had heard their report on His Lordship did Lalitha, tired and exhausted, go to bed.

  She slept until late in the afternoon and when she awoke it was to find that Nattie had arrived from Roth Park, bringing Royal with her.

  She had been delighted to see them and Nattie had immediately with unchangeable authority made rules and regulations which Lalitha was forced to keep.

  Despite all her protests she had been made to stay in bed for three days and then only been allowed to take a short walk in the ga
rdens surrounding Rothwyn House.

  Afterwards she was allowed to read and occupy herself with nothing more strenuous than putting together the poem written by Lord Hadley.

  “I am well! I am quite well, Nattie!” Lalitha had protested.

  “There’s two opinions on that!” Nattie replied darkly.

  Although Lalitha would not admit it, she did feel weak and listless.

  “It was the shock of seeing Lord Rothwyn shot,” she told herself.

  But it was also, although she tried to forget it, the misery and sense of despair she had endured when Sophie had forced her away, into what was to have been obscurity.

  Now she was back at Rothwyn House, but at the same time her pleasure was in some ways spoilt because she could not see Lord Rothwyn.

  She hoped and expected that he would send for her, but the days passed and although Nattie told her how he was getting on, he did not invite her to go to his room.

  At last shyly she asked Nattie:

  “Could I not . . . see His Lordship?”

  “Sir William said His Lordship was to have no visitors for the first two days,” Nattie replied, “and since then he has not asked for Your Ladyship.”

  Lalitha hesitated and then she said:

  “I would like to see him. Why does he not ... wish to see

  me?”

  Nattie smiled.

  “I think all men, M’Lady, and perhaps Master Inigo more than others, feel ashamed when they’re laid low. He was always the same even when he was small. He would not admit he felt ill or in pain. Many’s the time I’ve said to him: ‘You might be an animal for all you tell me about yourself! ’” Lalitha gave a little laugh.

  “And what did he reply to that?”

  “He would not talk about weakness,” Nattie replied. “Once when he was really ill and he didn’t hear me coming into the Night-Nursery he was repeating to himself over and over again: ‘I am well! I am well! I am well!’”

  Lalitha remembered how brave Lord Rothwyn had been about his wounded arm although it must have been very painful.

  So it was comforting in some way to think that he did not wish to see her for a reason which amounted to conceit, rather than the fact that he felt no need of her presence.

  At the same time she yearned for him.