An Unexpected Love
Page 11
Ravina stared at him, mystified.
“A letter to Papa? But he is travelling in the Balkans, as you know only too well. It would be weeks before a letter reached him.”
Robert Dunster smiled but the expression was far from genial. It sent a tremor of fear down her spine.
“A fast courier will be there by the end of the week. Once I have his reply, I will arrange for you to be released.”
“You cannot possibly keep me here for two whole weeks!”
Ravina tried not to let her voice shake. She refused to allow this repulsive man to see how frightened she was.
Robert Dunster shrugged.
“It is entirely up to you. The quicker you write the letter, the quicker you will be released. I need your father to sign a certain Treaty with some influential Turkish politicians. The letter will make it quite clear what will happen to you, his only child, if he refuses.”
Ravina drew herself up to her full height.
She suddenly felt all the lingering chains of childhood fall away and knew in that moment she had become her own person.
“I refuse to write any such letter. I will not be party to anything that forces my dearest Papa into doing something against his honour and conscience.”
The heavily jowelled industrialist glared at her.
“Then I will write it myself, madam. And you will still stay here until I receive my reply.”
He waved the pistol at her and grated,
“Let us both hope and pray that your father sees sense and signs the papers.”
“But how can you possibly hope to escape, even if he does? You will be hunted throughout Europe.”
She shuddered as the thought struck her that perhaps he had no intention of escaping. Perhaps he would kill her anyway and then there would be no witness to his crime.
He laughed as he opened the attic door.
“I intend to leave Europe and go to live in the Middle East where I shall buy a large estate,” he snarled.
“I am to be paid a fortune for ‘arranging’ for Lord Ashley to sign the political agreement. And the life a man of money and position can lead in that part of the world is infinitely superior to anything here, where the accident of your birth controls just how much influence you have.”
He leered at her.
“Who knows, perhaps at the end of two weeks, we’ll know each other much better, Lady Ravina! You may wish to accompany me to share my new life!”
He was still laughing as he slammed the door shut behind him.
Ravina sank down on the bed and buried her head in her hands. She could not believe what was happening to her.
She remembered only too clearly all Sir Richard’s veiled comments about safety and security and the way he had always seemed to be around during the past few days.
Had he guessed that she was in danger? Had he known that Robert Dunster was the evil genius behind the rumours he had mentioned?
Ravina questioned herself.
Would she have listened to him if he had told her?
She felt the hot tears burn her eyes, knowing that her foolish pride would have rejected his words.
Look at how she had carelessly pushed aside Bobby Watson’s warning yesterday. He had been so insistent that she did not ride alone through the woods. He must have had some idea of what was going to happen.
What a stupid, stupid girl she was.
Why had not she realised that Bobby would never have said those words to her unless he was truly concerned for her safety.
But no. She was so vain.
She had trusted her own judgement of the situation, just as she had trusted her own judgement of Robert Dunster.
How faulty that had proved to be was now only too obvious.
And now – she stared bleakly – she was a prisoner facing a truly dreadful future and, what was worse, her dear Papa was going to be blackmailed with her life as the prize!
She shuddered and flinched as thunder suddenly rumbled overhead and she heard the hissing crack of lightning.
Clasping her hands together, she sent her thoughts spiralling outwards.
‘Oh, Richard, if I am to die, I wish I had had the chance to tell you how sorry I am. And, oh, how I wish you were here to help me.’
*
At two o’clock that same hot afternoon, the fat placid pony that Dulcie always rode, ambled happily along the road leading towards the Priory.
It was, indeed, far happier than its rider. Dulcie’s face was pale, her eyes still red-rimmed from the tears she had shed all night long.
She would have been content to stay at home in her room, but she had promised Sir Michael that she would speak to his housekeeper and she would not break her word.
“If I cannot make him happy as his wife, then I can at least make sure his house runs smoothly,” Dulcie thought drearily as she guided her pony round the final corner.
Then she looked up, startled, as a group of men appeared out of the woods at the side of the road and stood watching silently as she rode past.
Dulcie kicked the pony into a faster trot.
The gang of scoundrels looked alarmingly villainous to her and she felt her heart pounding.
Suddenly a thickset man wearing a dark coat appeared to gesture the other men back into the trees.
Dulcie felt the blood drain out of her face. It was a long time since she had seen that face, but she would never, never forget it.
The man in the black coat was the man who had cheated her father out of his money, caused his death and her downfall into poverty.
She had intended to enter the Priory through the kitchens. That way there would be no need to risk of seeing Ravina and Sir Michael together.
Dulcie knew that her courage was held together by very fine threads. The sight of her young cousin laughing and smiling, maybe even holding hands with the man she herself loved so deeply, would be more than she could bear.
But as a groom came running out to hold the pony’s head, a familiar voice rang out and she flinched and staggered slightly.
Sir Michael’s hands shot out to steady her.
“My dear Miss Allen! How enchanting to see you. But whatever is the matter? Are you unwell? You look extremely pale. Come inside. You must sit down immediately. Shall I send for a doctor?”
The concern in his voice brought tears to her eyes.
“Thank you, Sir Michael. I am – I am just a little faint, I fear. Perhaps I might trouble you for a drink of water?”
Sir Michael shouted to a servant to bring some immediately and a maid came running from the house with a glass.
He helped Dulcie out of the stable yard into the shady calm of the orchard.
She sank down on a wooden bench underneath an apple tree heavy with ripening fruit.
“You will have a fine crop of apples for your cider, Sir Michael,” she remarked, trying to think of something to say that would divert his attention away from her. “I do hope your cook knows the right time to pick them.”
Sir Michael’s plain but kind face showed a flash of irritation.
“I could not care a single jot about cider, Miss Allen. I am worried about your health. You rode from Curbishley Hall in the midday sun on that slow pony. Why did you not take a carriage?”
Dulcie turned her face away, biting her lip. The answer to that question was, of course, that she was a servant to the Ashleys.
Oh, admittedly, she was a member of the family, but she was paid a salary as housekeeper and as such she would not abuse her position by riding in a carriage as if she was Ravina.
“Forgive me, Sir Michael. It was indeed stupid of me. I have, in fact, recently chided Lady Ravina for riding out in the hot sun. Now, I have taken up enough of your time. I must find your housekeeper and see if I can advise on her problems.”
She stood up and turned to face him. Sir Michael shook his head.
“My dear Miss Allen, I refuse to believe that a distress this deep is caused just by the sun. Please tell me,
what has happened?”
Dulcie took a deep breath to steady herself.
“I have just seen a ghost from my past,” she mumbled at last. “The man who ruined my father. He was in the woods, just the other side of the village.”
Sir Michael frowned and reached out to grasp her hands.
“That is truly a terrible shock. But what on earth is he doing in Rosbourne? In the woods, you said?”
Dulcie nodded, trying to catch her breath which was skipping slightly at the touch of his hands on hers.
Sir Michael felt a wave of anger wash over him. He had no idea who this man was or what knavery he was up to, but if the rogue came within his grasp in the future, he would suffer for it.
Because he had realised he no longer cared that Dulcie had fallen out of Society circles. All he wanted to do was protect her from harm, make her life easy and comfortable.
Because he loved her.
He looked at her soft dark eyes, the brave tilt to her chin. He wanted to wipe away that worry line between her eyes and see her laugh.
She was not a young girl and she had none of the beauty or spirit of Ravina, but what she did have was a serene, peaceful character that soothed him.
Being with Ravina was like being in the same company as a beautiful, tiring whirlwind. Time spent with Dulcie was restful but invigorating.
Dulcie was a splendid woman and the one with whom he wanted to share the rest of his life.
And without thinking any more, he reached forward, tilted her face and bent to kiss her tenderly.
*
The afternoon sun was striking long shadows across the velvet lawns of Curbishley Hall, gilding the profuse roses in the gardens with gold lights.
Dark eyes blazing with frustration, Sir Richard Crawford paced up and down the front terrace, slapping his riding crop against the lavender bushes that stood in ornamental stone urns along the path.
But he was oblivious to the marvellous scent that hung in the air from the crushed flowers.
All his thoughts were turned towards Lady Ravina.
He knew he should leave Curbishley Hall – indeed, his horse was saddled and waiting for him.
But, he just wanted to see her one more time. He realised they had to part permanently – she was, after all, engaged to Sir Michael Moore, but her safety was his overwhelming concern.
If anything was to happen to that marvellous golden girl – !
Sir Richard glowered, his eyes brooding and unhappy. He pulled his gold half-hunter from his pocket – half past the hour of four!
Surely Lady Ravina and Dulcie would be home soon from the Priory.
Then he felt his pulses quicken.
An open-topped chaise had turned through the gates and was heading slowly up the drive towards him, a pony trotting behind it.
Sir Richard started to relax and then felt every nerve in his body quiver with apprehension.
Sir Michael Moore was seated in the chaise, but there was only one young lady sitting next to him on the red leather seats.
Dulcie.
Sir Richard stepped forward urgently as the carriage drew to a halt and Sir Michael jumped out to help Dulcie down and even in his turmoil, Sir Richard noticed how lovingly the older man’s hands lingered on her arms.
“Sir Michael, Miss Allen, good afternoon to you both, but where is Lady Ravina?”
The couple turned, their faces twin pictures of surprise and bewilderment.
“Ravina? Why, I have not seen her at all today,”Dulcie said.
“I believed that Lady Ravina was to favour me with a visit for luncheon,” Sir Michael put in, “but she never arrived at the Priory. Indeed, when Miss Allen came over to see my housekeeper, we decided we had probably muddled up our invitations.”
Dulcie hesitated.
Sir Richard could tell that she knew only too well that there had been no muddle and that Ravina had known she was due to have luncheon with Sir Michael.
“Perhaps she felt unwell and is in her room?” Dulcie suggested sensibly.
Sir Richard felt a cold shock course through him.
“No, I have already enquired of the staff. I wanted to make my farewells before leaving. Lady Ravina is not at Curbishley Hall nor in the grounds. And her mare is not in the stables.”
Dulcie went pale and swayed. Sir Michael’s arm shot out and tenderly he led her towards a stone bench overlooking the garden.
“But where can she be? Can she have had an accident? Fallen from Sweetie? But, oh, she is such a calm horse. She never bucks or shies.”
“Perhaps she rode too far, dismounted for some reason and then the horse bolted,” Sir Michael said, producing a large handkerchief as Dulcie was reduced to tears.
Sir Richard looked grave.
“Sir Michael, may I have a private word?” he asked.
Dulcie mopped her tears and stood up, pulling herself together with a bravery that appealed to both men.
“I must go inside. I will check with Charity and the other staff. They may know something and be scared of mentioning it to Sir Richard.”
The two men watched her rush away and Sir Richard turned to his older companion.
“I must go to find her at once,” he said briefly. “Sir Michael, what I am about to tell you is a great secret. Do I have your word that it goes no further than between us?”
Sir Michael looked alarmed.
“But of course.”
“I am sometimes called upon by the Foreign Office to undertake small commissions for them. Recently I was asked by Lord Ashley to keep a watching brief on Lady Ravina in her parents’ absence.”
“What possible danger could Lady Ravina be in?”
“Through Lord Ashley, she is a target for certain groups of people, men with no honour or scruples, men who wish to influence her father in his judgements on the political scene.”
Sir Michael stared at him.
“And you believe she has fallen foul of one of these men?”
Sir Richard nodded grimly.
“I do.”
“Who would possibly harm a young girl for his own foul ends?”
Sir Richard hesitated for a long moment and then enquired,
“Do you know Robert Dunster?”
The older man looked at him in amazement.
“Dunster the industrialist? We have never met, but I know of him, of course. Why, you cannot possibly mean – ?”
Sir Richard slapped his riding crop against the palm of his hand, wishing it was Robert Dunster’s head he was hitting.
“It is a strong suspicion, no more than that at present. But he has been seen in this district with a gang of men.”
Sir Michael went pale.
“My God, Dulcie – Miss Allen – was upset earlier today because she saw the man who ruined her father lurking in the woods with a group of ruffians. Could that have been Robert Dunster?”
Sir Richard swore under his breath and nodded grimly.
“Very likely. So he was the man who cheated Mr.Allen out of his money. Why am I not surprised? And he was in the woods? God, then he has her already.”
Sir Michael opened his mouth to comment, but realised that they were wasting valuable time.
“What can I do to help?” he asked simply.
“Good man. Collect a few of the largest and strongest of the staff here and follow me as soon as you can.”
“But where are you – ”
“Lady Ravina set off for your home this morning. I saw her go, across the fields and straight into the woods. I saw the direction she took. I will track her as far as I can. There must be some sign of her – somewhere.”
Without another word, Sir Richard ran for his horse, but as he cantered across the fields and into the darkening woods, he knew that the chance of finding clues would become more and more difficult as the night fell.
He trotted through the woods. The path was not difficult to follow and he was sure that Ravina would have taken the most direct route to the Priory.
He had reached the end of the trail and there had been no sign of the woman he loved!
“Damnation!” he swore under his breath, savagely turned the stallion’s head and urged him back into the woods.
Where the hell had Ravina gone? There must be some sight of her or the mare.
Half way back towards Curbishley Hall, his horse suddenly threw up his head and neighed loudly.
Sir Richard swung round in the saddle as, from somewhere deep in the woods, an answering whinny sounded through the trees.
“That’s Sweetie,” he muttered and urged the stallion off the track. They crashed down a slope until they reached a little stream.
Trotting swiftly through the water, they rounded a bend and there was Sweetie still tethered to a bush.
The little mare threw up her head and whickered happily to see them.
Sir Richard untethered her, let her drink at the stream and, his dark face grim with terror, gazed round at the signs of the struggle that had obviously taken place.
“If only you could talk,” he said angrily to the horse. “Yes, there is where the devil stood – behind this bush. And here, oh, God, here is where he dragged her into the bushes!”
Leading Sweetie behind him, Sir Richard urged his mount into the thick undergrowth.
Now the signs were even clearer. It was obvious Ravina had not gone quietly with her kidnapper.
But once the track reached the roadway, it was harder to follow the traces of her abduction.
The ruts made by the carriage were plain in the muddy areas, but as Sir Richard trotted along the darkening road, he realised that the marks from the wheels and the hooves were becoming fainter and fainter.
He felt his frustration growing. The sun had now set and a summer storm was brewing.
Heavy clouds were gathering swiftly overhead and in the distance came the ominous rumble of thunder and his stallion started and jittered across the road, his ears laid flat to his steel grey head.
Just as Sir Richard reached a sharp bend where the road split into three, the rain began to fall. Within seconds he was soaked as the wind gusted and flung the downpour against him.