Shona shook her head. Her heart was breaking for him.
“Never mind. It is better that you do not know.”
He set down the bottle without filling his glass.
“Very well. No more tonight.”
He sighed.
“I have told you things that perhaps I should not have done.”
“You may trust me, my Lord. I will never repeat anything you have said.”
“I know. I do trust you. But what right had I to dump my burdens onto you?”
She wanted to tell him that he had every right and that she was giving more of her heart to him every moment. She wanted to say that his trust and dependence on her was the sweetest thing she had ever known.
But what was the point of hoping? He was not for her. He had just told her so.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next day a different mood seemed to fall over the party. Now they were out in the open sea again. The weather was glorious and, with no land in sight, it was possible to forget the world and become light-hearted.
Lionel flirted shamelessly with Effie, who received his overtures with a chuckle. Shona had feared that her friend and maid might end up broken-hearted, but when Effie sighed and said,
“I wonder what my Jimmy is doing right now,”
Shona concluded that if any heart was to be broken it was unlikely to be Effie’s.
As for Lionel –
“It will do him good,” Effie observed cheerfully. “Cheeky young pup!”
“Is that my heir you are referring to?” asked the Marquis, who happened to be passing them on deck.
“Is he really your heir?” Effie asked with interest. “He keeps telling me he is, but I wasn’t sure whether to believe him.”
“Why not?”
“He is the sort who would say anything to impress a girl,” Effie ventured, not unkindly, but in a practical spirit.
“But you remain distinctly unimpressed, I gather?” the Marquis asked, amused.
“Well, he’s just a babe in arms, isn’t he?” Effie replied. “Mind you, he’ll be a real catch in about ten years’ time.”
He grinned.
“Always supposing I have not disinherited him in the meantime,” he observed casually.
He liked Effie who, after her initial nerves, had fallen into an easy, unaffected way of chatting to him.
“Oh, that’s not important,” she said airily.”
“It would be important to a girl who married him, counting on him inheriting the title and then find he had been cut out,” the Marquis declared.
“Serve her right for getting married for the wrong reasons,” Effie retorted. “I was talking about him as a man. In ten years’ time he should have had some of the silly ideas knocked out of his head and be worth knowing.”
Then she added,
“But if, by ‘disinheriting’, you mean what I think you do, the sooner the better.”
“You consider that I should have a son and put his nose out of joint?” he enquired, seeming to give the matter his grave consideration.
“Of course you should,” said Effie firmly. “Finding himself a nobody would be the making of him.”
Despite her youth she seemed to regard Lionel much as a kindly aunt might view a recalcitrant infant. When he appeared and hailed her a few minutes later, she called,
“All right, all right, I’m coming. Stay where you are.”
She bustled away to meet him, clearly unimpressed by the way his handsome features lit up with joy at the sight of her.
“She is quite right, of course,” the Marquis said, watching as the two of them strolled along the deck. “A little unrequited love is just what Lionel needs to stop him becoming insufferable.”
“How unkind!” Shona protested. “The poor boy is head over heels!”
“Calf love!” he said with cheerful callousness. “Mind you, if it doesn’t pass, I suppose the poor girl may have to marry him.”
“Oh, no!” Shona said quickly. “That’s out of the question.”
“A terrible fate,” he agreed. “You naturally wish to save your friend from falling into it. But I suppose she could do worse.”
“You are making fun of her,” she said, “but I assure you such a match would be quite ineligible. Effie does not have a title or – or a fortune – or anything of that kind. And naturally the heir to the House of Chilworth would require status in his bride.”
“The heir to the House of Chilworth is a nincompoop, who should be grateful that a decent woman even looks at him,” the Marquis responded with grim humour.
“But she is not looking at him,” Shona declared. “He is not at all what Effie wants. You heard her say so.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“What exactly does she want?” he demanded humorously.
Feeling exhilarated by the sun, the sea and his presence, Shona was tempted to say,
“Dangling after her yourself, my Lord?”
His mouth twisted wryly.
“You surely know better than that.”
Then he fell silent and stared out over the water, leaving her to wonder if she had heard aright, and if so, did his words mean what they seemed to?
After a while he looked back at her.
“So you don’t think I will have to forbid the match?” he asked lightly.
She pulled herself together.
“No need. Effie would forbid it herself.”
They shared a smile.
Shona thought how his face had changed, as though the shadows that were haunting him had mysteriously lifted.
She could not help noticing how he was regarding her, with a light in his eyes that was increasingly disturbing and which made it harder for her to think straight.
“Then it looks as though I will have to take Effie’s advice,” he commented. “Establish my own family and cut him out of the line.”
“You might be happier if you did so,” Shona agreed.
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “Yes.”
There was a long silence.
“But there are things I must do first,” he said at last.
“Until they are done, I have no right to even think of – no right at all.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“Yes, you do understand, don’t you? And yet – the thoughts that I am determined to resist have a way of creeping in against my will.”
“I know that too,” she whispered.
Shona was in torment. The feeling that she could sense growing between them was unbearably sweet. Yet how could she let it happen while she was deceiving him as to her true identity?
Deceiving him about everything, she thought with dismay.
She imagined telling him the truth, seeing a look of incredulity and disgust come over his face.
And he would undoubtedly be angry when he learned the truth about Effie. However he might joke about Lionel, would any Marquis think it amusing that his heir had been led up the garden path by a maid?
Could she not put off these revelations, and let herself enjoy this delightful time just a little longer?
While she was still wrestling with her conscience, they noticed Lionel waving to them from further along the deck.
“Lunch is ready,” he called. “Hurry up. I’m starving.”
Her confession would have to wait a bit longer, she thought, without too much regret.
Lunch was a merry meal. Lionel fooled about until Effie spoke to him severely, after which he behaved beautifully, except for gorging himself with mussels.
Shona caught the Marquis’s eyes on her, inviting her to share the joke. Her heart soared with sudden happiness.
Lionel had left just one mussel uneaten. Shona, who had never tried one before, tasted it briefly, before deciding that mussels were not for her.
After lunch she took a stroll on deck, feeling suddenly unwell for the first time on the voyage. Perhaps, she thought, she was not as immune to sea sickness as she had thought.
; She went up on deck, taking deep breaths of salty air, but nothing seemed to make her feel better. She began to think longingly of her bed.
Then she became aware of a commotion below decks. She could hear the Marquis’s voice raised in anger and the Captain’s voice raised in dismay.
There was another voice that she could not identify, a man, gabbling some incoherent explanation. He was cut short by the Marquis, full of fury.
Effie came flying along the deck to find Shona.
“Effie, what has happened?”
“It’s Lionel, he’s terribly ill. He just collapsed and they had to carry him to his cabin.”
“Poor boy! Does anyone know the cause?”
“Mussels!” Effie exclaimed in dire accents. “They were kept too long before cooking.
“His Lordship is that angry! He can’t dismiss the cook right now because we are out in deep water, but he threatened to throw him overboard. He doesn’t mean to, but the cook’s run away to hide.”
The Marquis appeared, his face dark with anger.
“I have told the Captain to head for Marseilles as fast as possible,” he said. “I have a friend who lives there and who will give us refuge until Lionel is better. I will send a message to him as soon as we land.”
“Yes, it will be pleasant to be on land again,” Shona commented quietly.
She was gripping the rail as she spoke, feeling the world spin around her. With a huge effort she forced herself to smile at the Marquis.
“He will be better when he has seen a doctor,” she said with an attempt at brightness.
“I don’t think it is too serious, but he is having a bad time,” the Marquis growled. “Thank goodness he was the only one to eat mussels.”
“As a matter of fact – he wasn’t,” Shona said with an effort.
“What?”
“I only had one, so perhaps – perhaps – ”
She swayed and his arms encircled her at once.
“My God!” he cried hoarsely. “Oh, my God!”
Before she lost consciousness she briefly glimpsed his face, full of horror. As he lifted her in his arms she could hear him calling,
“Shona! Shona!”
After that everything swirled about her and then it grew dark. She awoke to find herself in her cabin, with Effie tending her.
“We have just reached Marseilles,” she said.
There was a knock on the cabin door. Effie opened it, to admit the Marquis.
He came straight to Shona’s bed and dropped down on one knee beside her.
“I have sent a message to my friend, Charles Rivalier,” he said. “I know he will invite us to his house, and as soon as we are there, a doctor will attend you.”
His face became clouded.
“But perhaps we should not wait. I could send for one of the quayside doctors now, but my friend’s physician will be better – and I want you to be attended by the best.”
He seemed quite distracted and quite unlike his usual cool and controlled self.
“Whatever you think is the most suitable,” she murmured weakly. “How is Lionel? I am sure he is worse than I am.”
“Lionel is doing all right,” he replied with a touch of impatience. “But you both need a doctor without delay. Wait! What am I thinking of? I know a better way.”
He left the cabin in a hurry and returned in a few moments to say that they were leaving immediately.
“I have hired two carriages so that you can arrive earlier,” he said. “We will take the main road to the Chateau Rivalier and meet my friend’s messenger on the way.”
He reached out his hands for Shona.
“Allow me to help you.”
He drew her to her feet.
“Can you walk?” he asked tenderly.
“Yes – yes, I am sure I can – ”
But one look at her white face told him otherwise. In a moment his arms were around her, and she was being lifted gently off her feet, high against his chest.
“Put your arms about my neck,” he commanded.
He carried her all the way to the carriage and handed her gently in. Behind them came the Captain and one of the crew members, assisting Lionel between them. They put him into the other carriage.
Effie climbed into the first carriage with the Marquis and Shona and they started their journey.
Shona lay back against the squabs, trying to rest, but she could not find a comfortable position, and her discomfort increased.
Then the Marquis’s arms were around her again, and he drew her head onto his shoulder, whispering, “There, lean on me. I will take care of you.”
“I feel so ill,” she muttered wretchedly.
“I know my dear. I am so sorry. I blame myself.”
“Not – your fault – ”
“It was my staff who did this to you. My cook will not escape lightly.”
“Poor man – don’t be too hard on him for one slip.”
“I do not employ people who make this kind of mistake,” he said grimly.
He stopped, noticing her ghastly pallor and the light glow of dampness on her forehead.
Her head fell onto his shoulder and he held her close for the rest of the journey.
Along the road they encountered a huge carriage heading in their direction, bearing the coat of arms of the Rivalier family. It had been sent to take them to the Chateau Rivalier.
Monsieur Charles Rivalier mounted on his horse hailed them eagerly.
“Now you will follow me,” he cried. “But you should remain in your carriages, so as not to disturb the invalids too much.”
So the whole convoy made its way to the chateau, where a doctor was already waiting.
He examined the patients, and declared that a few days’ rest and good food would put them right.
While he was attending to Shona, the Marquis hovered worriedly in the background. When the doctor had finished, Effie took charge, banishing everyone from the room.
Ill as she was, Shona saw that the Marquis gave her one last look, then departed obediently.
Effie undressed her like a mother, put her snugly into bed, and administered the draught the doctor had prescribed. It tasted vile, but soon afterwards Shona sank back into sleep.
In her dreams she was aboard the carriage once more, swaying back and forth, her head resting on the Marquis’s shoulders.
But was that all it was? Just a dream?
Or had it really happened?
Had he really held her with such tenderness and strength? Had she seen in his face that open defenceless look, which at other times was so carefully concealed?
Had she really raised her arms, clasping him tightly around his neck, and burying her face against his chest, as though only there could she find true safety?
She imagined it again now, and found that her hands seemed to curve naturally around the strong column of his neck.
She wanted to stay there for ever.
When she awoke, Effie was still sitting patiently beside her. Shona’s head had cleared so that she could study the room in which she was lying.
It was very large and elegantly furnished, with tall windows at which white lace curtains fluttered. She could just make out the hint of a garden beyond.
“That’s much better, miss,” Effie said, smiling when she saw Shona’s eyes open.
“Where am I?”
“The Chateau Rivalier, miss.”
“Oh yes, I remember now.”
“This is the very best guest bedroom. Madame Rivalier insisted on that. And the doctor – ”
Effie dropped her voice confidingly.
“His Lordship insisted that the doctor see you first, before Lionel.”
“How is he?”
“He is going to be all right,” Effie said.
She rose and headed for the door.
“I must go and speak to his Lordship. He wanted to be told as soon as you woke up.”
She vanished, leaving Shona to her thoughts.
T
hey were strange thoughts, troubled and confused, yet with a strange flickering of happiness.
She remembered his face, full of dread as he held her, watching her consciousness drain away.
Such terrible memories must have returned to him.
“She had only breath enough left to repeat our vows of love, for this world and the next. Then she died.”
Those had been his words about another woman he had cradled in his arms.
That was why he had looked so horrified as he held her, because it had brought back memories that were too much for him.
It was surely the only reason. Wasn’t it? She tried to be sensible, but the burst of happiness refused to be dispelled. It had been her he had held, not that other woman.
Could she not, at least, let herself hope that in that vivid moment, his feelings, his fears and his intentions had been for her? She floated back into sleep.
Several times she half awoke, and once there was a strange woman standing by her bed. She was in her fifties, with a sweet, motherly face and Shona guessed that this must be her hostess.
“So – so sorry – ” she croaked.
“Do not try to exert yourself,” Madame Rivalier said. “All that matters is that your health improves and poor Frederick can stop pacing the floor.”
“Frederick?”
Then she remembered that the Marquis’s Christian name was Frederick. She had seen it written in his passport, but had never heard it spoken before.
Madame Rivalier seemed to fade into the mists. Instead, there was the Marquis standing beside her, gazing down at her with a look in his eyes that she could not quite comprehend.
Somehow she fell asleep again and when she opened her eyes he was gone.
She wondered if she had imagined him.
Effie appeared with her breakfast. Shona’s appetite was recovering and she felt a little stronger. When she had taken a bath, with Effie’s help, she was well enough to sit up in a chair by the window.
For her first day out of bed, she was dressed in a peach-coloured satin and lace dressing gown. She appreciated that it was a beautiful garment, but when she looked in the mirror she wanted to weep.
Illness had left her pale and wan. There was no colour in her cheeks and she could barely recognise herself.
‘I look like a witch,’ she thought mournfully. ‘Just a raddled, ugly witch and no man is going to want to look at me.’ Then her eyes focused on a mountain of white roses standing in a huge jar by the window.
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