He did not know why, but all the women he had known, and there had been quite a number of them, had always eventually disappointed him.
Although when he had first kissed them he had thought that the feeling they evoked in him would be different, he had known even while they aroused in him a very human desire that something else was lacking.
But when he had kissed Larentia last night it was quite different from any kiss he had ever given or received before, and the rapture and the divine ecstasy that she felt communicated itself to him so that he felt the same.
Never with any other woman had he felt as if he touched not only the wings of ecstasy, but became part of the divine, and yet that was what Larentia had given him, and as he looked at her now, he wanted to kneel at her feet.
Because the train was noisy it was difficult to talk, but they both felt that because they were together that there was little need for words.
The Duke’s eyes were continually on Larentia’s face. And when she looked at him he knew that they were as close as if she was in his arms.
At noon because they had breakfasted early they opened the picnic basket.
It was filled with so many delicious things that Larentia protested that it was hard to make a choice. But she knew that because the Duke was there anything she ate would taste like ambrosia and when he made her drink a little wine, it was nectar.
She thought that if he imagined she was the Goddess Diana, to her he was god-like himself in his appearance and in the nobility of his mind.
At the first station they stopped after luncheon, one of the servants came to clear away the picnic basket and bring them coffee which had been kept hot in a hay-basket.
“This has been a very luxurious picnic,” Larentia teased, remembering how she had been too nervous to go to a station refreshment room on her journey to the Castle.
“It is only the second of many meals we will share,” the Duke said, “and, my darling, if I cannot find exactly the right background for you at first you must forgive me. As soon as I reach Garon House I will make arrangements to find something at least adequate so that we need not wait.”
When he had finished speaking he was surprised at the blush sweeping over Larentia’s cheeks and the way in which she turned her head away to look out of the window.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
He told himself she was shy at the idea of being alone with him, and while he thought she looked more adorable and attractive in her shyness than anything he could imagine, he was puzzled as to why what he had said should have affected her so deeply.
“I have so much to discover about you,” he said in his deep voice, “and so much to teach you, my darling, about love.”
Insidiously, and he could not prevent it, he had a vision of his uncle’s debauched face and the memory of what he had been told of his revolting vices.
For the moment the Duke asked himself if he was insane or whether an exceptionally brilliant actress was deceiving him.
“Look at me, Larentia!” he ordered sharply.
She turned her face and when her eyes met his he saw in them an expression that was almost one of adoration. Then because something fastidious in him made him feel that it would somehow belittle their love if he kissed her in the train he merely raised her hands to his lips, kissing first one then the other.
He went back to his seat opposite her, content to know that every time she looked at him her eyes softened and her lips parted as if she found it difficult to breathe.
The train was a fast one stopping at only two stations, and yet when they reached St. Pancras Larentia felt exhausted, not by the journey, but by the knowledge that after today she would never see the Duke again.
She had made up her mind what she must do and planned it very carefully, not only during the night but while he was sitting opposite her, and now she wanted to throw herself into his arms and ask him to kiss her just once more.
“How can I go through life without him?” she asked herself. “How can I leave him knowing that he is somewhere in the world and I may not see him?”
And yet she knew what she was doing was right. Firstly because what he wanted her to do was wicked, and secondly because to confess to him that she had lied and made his acquaintance under false pretences would be to invite his contempt.
She was sure that he was so upright and noble that he would despise all liars, especially women who perjured themselves to extract money from him.
She was vividly conscious of the envelope in her handbag and when she searched for a handkerchief and saw it against her worn purse she wanted to tear it up and tell him she had no right to it.
Then she remembered it belonged not to her but to Isaac Levy, who would be waiting for it with a greedy glint in his eyes because it would bring him a hundred per cent interest on his loan.
“Goodbye, my love, goodbye!” Larentia was saying in her heart, and it was as if the rumble of the wheels beneath her repeated the words over and over again.
Then because she loved the Duke so desperately she opened her lips to tell him the truth – she was not Katie King and having paid her debts she would do what he asked.
If she became his mistress and he made love to her, perhaps it would be even more wonderful than his kisses had been!
Then she was appalled that she could even think such things! What would her father, with his high ideals, think of her?
He had looked after her and protected her, and the knowledge of her belonging to a man to whom she was not married would, she knew, be a greater pain than anything he had suffered from the cancerous growth within his body.
“There is nothing I can do but disappear,” Larentia told herself, and knew that her thoughts had gone round in a full circle and come back to where they had started.
“There will be a carriage waiting for us,” the Duke was saying, “because I sent a servant to London on the midnight train telling my comptroller we were arriving and to have everything in readiness.’
Larentia murmured something and he continued,
“I will drop you off first. I want to see where you live.”
Larentia had anticipated that he might wish to take her home and she knew it was something she must prevent.
“I wish to go where my uncle is staying with the friends who have looked after him while I have been away,” she replied.
“Yes, of course,” the Duke agreed, “and where is that?”
“It is a house in Harley Street.”
“That will be easy,” he smiled. “Harley Street is on the way from St. Pancras to Berkeley Square.”
As the Duke had expected there was one of his senior servants waiting on the platform to escort him and Larentia to a carriage, and they only had to wait for her small trunk.
The servants who had travelled in the other carriage looked after the rest of the luggage.
“What is the number in Harley Street?” the Duke asked, as the footman placed a fur-lined rug over Larentia’s knees.
“Twenty-nine,” she replied.
The door was shut and the carriage started off. The Duke took Larentia’s hand in both of his and held it closely.
“May I call for you later this evening,” he asked, “and take you out to dinner?”
“I think that might be difficult.”
“Then luncheon tomorrow?”
“That would be wonderful.”
“I will call for you at a quarter-to-one.” He gave a little sigh. “It will be a very long time to wait, but I do understand you have to see your uncle and it may be difficult for you to explain to your friends who I am. Perhaps it would be best if they were not told the truth?”
“Y– yes – of course,” Larentia said in a very small voice.
“Oh, my precious, I hate these lies! “ the Duke exclaimed. “But I know you understand that it would be a mistake for us to cause a lot of gossip, and I am afraid that a Duke is always vulnerable not only to what pe
ople say, but also to the newspapers.”
“I would certainly not wish to subject you to that,” Larentia said quickly.
“Tomorrow we will decide how we can be together at every possible moment,” the Duke said.
He gave a little laugh before he went on,
“It seems impossible that I should have fallen so madly, crazily in love when I have known you for such a short time, but actually I have loved you for years. You have always been in my heart.”
“I feel too as if I have – loved you since the – beginning of time,” Larentia said.
“That is the real truth,” the Duke agreed. “We have been together in other lives, perhaps in other worlds, and now we are only taking up the threads from where we left off when we last parted.”
“And that will – happen again?”
“Let us not talk of being parted in this life – we have only just found each other,” the Duke said. “We shall have many, many years together. Oh, my precious, what is it about you that makes me know you belong to me, and I to you, and nothing can separate us?”
Instinctively Larentia’s fingers tightened on his because she knew there were only a few minutes left before they would be separated forever.
He thought it was not a touch of agony but one of pleasure, and he raised her hand to his lips, kissing first her glove, then pulling it aside to kiss the blue veins of her wrist.
Feeling his lips, the pressure of them, and the closeness of him made her feel as if her heart leapt from her body and her love enveloped him to the point where it was difficult to think of anything but the glory of it.
Then the carriage came to a standstill and they both of them realised with a start that they had reached Harley Street.
“It is – best that you should not be seen,” Larentia said hastily, her words a little incoherent, for it was difficult to speak.
“I understand,” the Duke said. “Goodbye, my precious one! Take care of yourself until I see you tomorrow.”
She tried to smile at him and he saw that her eyes seemed to fill her whole face and were for the moment tragic.
He thought how wonderful it was that she should feel so deeply affected at such a short parting.
“Goodbye –”
Larentia could hardly breathe the words. Then she stepped out of the carriage and the footman carried her trunk up the steps and into the hall.
A servant was looking at Larentia in astonishment as the trunk was put down. Then the Duke’s footman went down the steps again and back to the carriage.
When he was out of earshot Larentia said,
“This is 39, Harley Street, is it not?”
“No, madam, this is twenty-nine, the house of Mr. Frederick Baldwin.”
“Oh, how stupid of me!” Larentia exclaimed. “I have come to the wrong address.”
The servant had half shut the door, but she could see the carriage had driven away and now she said,
“Number thirty-nine cannot be far. As my carriage has gone I will walk there, and perhaps you will kind enough to keep my trunk until I send somebody to collect it?”
“That will be quite all right, madam, and number thirty-nine is only five houses up, the street having the odd numbers on this side, and the even ones on the other.”
“Thank you,” Larentia said. “It was very foolish of me to have made the mistake.”
“People often get muddled in this street,” the servant remarked confidentially. “What with so many doctors moving in, there’s callers every minute of the day and night!”
“I can understand how it could cause confusion,” Larentia said sympathetically.
The servant opened the door for her and she walked into the street seeing that by this time the Duke’s carriage was out of sight.
She passed number thirty-nine and went on to forty-nine where she had been before and asked for Mr. Sheldon Curtis.
Now all the anxiety and worry over her father seemed to sweep over her again and she was suddenly apprehensive that she would learn that his operation had not been successful or perhaps the growth had been too severe for them even to attempt to save his life.
She was shown into a dark impersonal waiting room, and when she was alone she found herself praying that because she had been happy with the Duke she would not be punished by learning now that she had lost her father.
She knew it was childish to think that life should balance itself out in such a way, but nevertheless the idea persisted because she knew she had been doing something that intrinsically was wrong.
Her love for the Duke had overwhelmed her to the point where for moments of time at any rate, when she was with him, she even forgot how much her father meant to her.
‘Oh, please, God – please let Papa live!’ she prayed silently.
As the door opened and Mr. Curtis came in she could only look at him in a kind of terror in case what she feared had happened.
“I am glad to see you, Miss Braintree,” the Surgeon said holding out his hand. “I am sure you have been very anxious about your father while he has been in my care, so I am going to allow you to see him for just two or three minutes.”
“T – to – see him?”
“He has been asking for you when he has been conscious. He is still very drowsy, so I cannot allow you to stay with him for long.”
“He is – all right? The operation was – successful?”
“I hoped you would trust me,” Mr. Curtis said with a smile. “Very successful, Miss Braintree. In fact, everything went exactly as I hoped and your father will soon be back at work – I am looking forward to reading his next book!”
Larentia found it impossible to speak.
Then her relief made her look so lovely that Mr. Curtis thought as they walked up the stairs that she was, without exception, the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen.
The blinds were drawn to keep out the sunshine, but Larentia could see her father looking pale but extremely handsome as he lay on his bed.
She went to his bedside and took his hand in hers.
“Papa!” she said softly.
He did not move, and after a moment Mr. Curtis said,
“Speak to him again.”
“Papa! I am here!” Larentia said in a louder tone.
Now there was a smile on the Professor’s lips and his eyes opened slowly.
“Larentia! Are you – all right?”
“Quite all right, Papa, and so glad, so very, very glad that you are!”
“I will be home – soon – I must – get that book – finished.”
“Yes, Papa. We will finish it together.”
The Professor shut his eyes and Larentia bent forward to kiss his cheek.
Then as she knew that Mr. Curtis wished her to leave, she followed him silently towards the door.
Outside he said,
“I want to keep your father as quiet as possible during the next few days. Then we will discuss how soon he can come home to you.”
“Thank you – thank you, more than I can – possibly say,” Larentia said. “Had it not been for you he would have – died.”
“I am afraid that is the truth,” Mr. Curds agreed, “and I intend to send a report about this operation to Mr. Joseph Lister in Edinburgh. I know he will be interested.”
He smiled before he added,
“After all, your father is a very famous man, Miss Braintree, and I hope that more and more people will begin to realise that with Lister’s methods lives can be saved instead of lost, and we need to keep men like your father alive.”
“Thank you,” Larentia said again.
“Now do not worry about him,” Mr. Curtis went on as they walked down the stairs. “You can come in again tomorrow morning, if you like, and stay with him for about five minutes.”
“I will do that,” Larentia said. “Can it be early?”
“As early as you like.”
“Then I will come, if I may, at about ten o’clock.”
“That
would suit us all. Goodbye, Miss Braintree. Take care of yourself.”
Larentia smiled at him, then as a servant opened the door she said,
“I forgot to ask. Another of Dr. Medwin’s patients came in at the same time as my father, a Miss Katie King. How is she?”
There was silence.
Then Mr. Curtis said, “I am sorry to tell you that despite everything I could do she died this morning!”
He saw the shocked expression on Larentia’s face and added,
“The growth in her body had got too much of a hold and was different from your father’s. I do not think even Mr. Lister himself could have saved her.”
“I am sure no one could have done more than you, Mr. Curtis,” Larentia said, then added, “Would you be kind enough to tell Mr. Carrington that I am at home?”
She thought Mr. Curtis seemed surprised that she should know Harry Carrington, but he merely replied,
“I am expecting him this evening and I will give him your message, Miss Braintree.”
Larentia found herself a hackney carriage, picked up her trunk from number twenty-nine and told the cabman to take her home to Lambeth.
As she drove away she found herself thinking how ironic it was that after all the trouble Mr. Carrington had gone to in working out a way in which to obtain the money to save Katie King’s life, it was her father who had survived while she had died.
The horror and disgust the Marchioness had felt at the news that her brother had married a Gaiety Girl was now unnecessary, and the only people who could be deeply grateful for the whole deception were her father and herself.
‘Papa was able to have his operation just because my hair was the same colour as Katie King’s,’ Larentia thought.
Then she thought it was fate – perhaps Mr. Curtis was right and her father was too important to die. Perhaps God had mapped out other things for him to do?
The hackney carriage reached Lambeth and the tall house in Wellington Road.
Larentia opened the front door with her key, the cabman set her trunk down in the small hall and she paid his fare, thinking that it came to a lot of money.
When the cabman had driven away and she shut the door behind her, she looked around her with a feeling of dismay and loneliness.
The Goddess and the Gaiety Girl Page 12