The Ship of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  "Something terrible has happened," she gasped.

  "Your aunt and my grandfather didn't have an early night, as they told us. They went out to explore Lisbon. They're not back."

  "What?"

  "We left without them. They'll return to the quay and find us gone. They are old people. They'll be terrified."

  "All right, I'm coming. Go and tell the captain – no, don't go anywhere dressed like that. I'll tell him myself."

  She ran back to her cabin and hastily dressed again, this time choosing a skirt and blouse, the plainest she could find. It was no time for furbelows.

  "Oh miss," Jenny said tearfully. "I'm so sorry."

  "Nonsense, it's not your fault," she said briskly. "But I know whose fault it is."

  Brisk and businesslike, she marched out and up to the bridge, where the Duke was conferring with the captain, who was making preparations to turn the ship.

  He too was apologetic.

  "Nobody knew that they had left the ship," he said, almost tearfully. "They informed nobody."

  "Of course. Why should they tell anyone?" Rowena asked crisply. "As far as they knew we were here for another two days." She flung the Duke a fierce glance as she spoke, and he glared back.

  She left the bridge and went to lean over the rail, watching as the lights of Lisbon gradually came into view. After a while Mark came to stand beside her.

  "I gather you consider me entirely to blame for this disaster."

  "Totally," she snapped. "If you hadn't insisted on leaving without thinking – "

  "Why didn't her maid warn us she wasn't on board?"

  "Because her maid was asleep when we returned.

  Your aunt is a kindly, considerate employer who tells Gina to rest until she returns. Gina knew nothing until she woke a few minutes ago."

  Mark ran his fingers through his hair.

  "My God!" he groaned. "What have I done? That poor old lady, stranded alone in a strange country – "

  "Pardon me, but she is not alone," Rowena said stiffly. "My grandfather is with her."

  "A good man but as elderly and helpless as she is herself. They'll be frightened to death. When they arrive and find us gone I hope they'll have the sense to stay there and wait. I'll send for a doctor as soon as we arrive."

  Gradually the lights became closer. The Duke had borrowed a pair of binoculars from the captain and was scanning the port. At last he said, "Ah!"

  "Can you see them?" Rowena asked.

  "Yes. They're there."

  He handed her the binoculars and she peered through them until she saw the two old people, who had obviously seen the boat.

  "They're waving," she said. "They seem to be all right."

  They were doing more than waving. They were beaming with delight.

  "Since all seems to be well," the Duke said, "perhaps you would like to go to bed. It's late and – "

  "I am remaining right here," she told him firmly. "Because not for the world would I miss the sight of you trying to explain to your aunt why you left without her."

  He flung her a withering look, but was too wise to say more.

  As soon as the gang plank was in place, he was down it to throw his arms about his aunt, and shake Mr. Farley's hand, then usher them quickly aboard.

  "Dear aunt, Mr. Farley, sir, how can I apologise enough – my rash impetuousness – you said you were staying aboard and it never occurred to me that you might change your minds – I will never forgive myself if you've come to any harm."

  "Oh nonsense," Lady Honoria told him. "What a fuss about a little thing! We thought we'd go out and explore, and when we found you gone we knew you'd come back for us."

  "At least, we hoped you would," Mr. Farley put it, and the two of them roared with laughter while Mark looked blankly from one to the other.

  "He doesn't understand, my dear," Mr. Farley told Honoria.

  "I know," she said. "We're old, and it offends him that we don't behave as old people are supposed to. Tell me Mark, what made you do it?"

  Rowena waited for Mark to explain about her scandalous behaviour that had necessitated an immediate departure, but all he said was,

  "Lisbon bored me, and I very rudely hurried on without waiting to see what other people wanted to do. Please excuse me."

  "Well, I will," Mr. Farley observed. "The sight of your face as you came down that gangplank – I haven't enjoyed anything so much for years."

  The two old people roared with laughter again, while Mark stood there looking sheepish. By now the others had come on desk and surrounded them, demanding to be told the night's events.

  Mark took the chance to move aside and approach Rowena.

  "All's well that ends well," he said, taking both her hands. "Do you forgive me?"

  "Of course. But I must confess I still don't really know what you were making such a fuss about."

  He stood there holding her hands and looking down into her smiling face.

  "Neither do I," he said.

  *

  There was no doubt that the party in Lisbon had relaxed everyone on board. Now they could forget to be aloof, forget worrying about whether anyone was admiring them for their looks.

  They became ordinary young people enjoying themselves with each other. The girls became soft, sweet and charming, while the men forgot they were afraid of being trapped.

  They grew warmer and more affectionate to each other.

  As the yacht moved into the Mediterranean, the voices grew louder, the laughter more frequent, and the atmosphere sweeter.

  One evening after a merry dinner, Rowena was standing on deck enjoying the breeze and listening to the sound of laughter coming up from below. Somehow it had a strange, melancholy sound, as though reminding her that, among so many happy couples, or potential couples, she was alone.

  "Don't move."

  Startled, she looked down to see who had spoken, and saw Mark standing at the bottom of a small flight of stairs, just below her.

  "You look like the figurehead on a ship," he said, "proud and aloof."

  He came up to stand beside her.

  "But what are you doing out here alone?" he asked.

  "Looking at the stars," she replied, raising her gaze to the heavens, and turning slowly in a complete circle.

  The Duke watched her with a faint smile, admiring her grace, and the elegant line from her chin, down her neck to her bosom. Not the least of her attractions at that moment was the fact that she seemed completely oblivious of her own beauty.

  "And what do the stars tell you?" he asked.

  She gave a soft laugh. "They remind me how much time your aunt spends in Grandpapa's company, and how much they both enjoy it. And then they ask me all sorts of things."

  "And do they give you an answer?"

  "Oh no. Stars only ask questions. You have to find the answers for yourself."

  Suddenly she staggered, and would have fallen if he hadn't moved quickly to take hold of her.

  "My goodness!" She put her hands to her head. "I felt so dizzy."

  "It's those circles you were turning," Mark said.

  "Yes, that must be it."

  She stood a moment, waiting for the dizziness to subside, feeling his hands firm and strong on her shoulders. She had the strangest feeling that nothing bad could happen to her while Mark held her like this. It was sweet and pleasant, and she could gladly have stayed there for ever.

  "Rowena?"

  He gave her a gentle shake.

  "Yes?"

  "Are you all right?"

  "Yes," she said vaguely. "I'll be all right. I was thinking – such strange thoughts."

  "Tell me what they were," he said gently.

  She smiled. It was directed inward, at herself, and she didn't know that it had a mysterious quality.

  "I can't," she said. "They were just – very strange thoughts."

  He dropped his hands. "Very well, I won't press you – for the moment. One day, perhaps, you'll want to share your thoughts
with me."

  She shook her head. "I wouldn't dare," she said with a touch of demure mischief. "For fear of boring you."

  "Are you making fun of me?"

  "I wouldn't dare do that either."

  He regarded her with his head on one side.

  Rowena realised that just for once she had him at a disadvantage. It was a delicious feeling. She moved away from him with almost a skip in her step, and then she noticed something on the lower deck.

  "What is it?" Mark asked, noticing her sudden alertness and coming to stand beside her.

  "Look down there. Your aunt and Grandpapa, strolling together again. Are we imagining things?" she breathed. "After all, everyone is allowed to love. Not just young people."

  "That's very true. But I think love is flourishing among the young people too."

  "Yes, it's wonderful what can happen when they feel free," she sighed. "There are so many critical eyes, so many elders disapproving of us all the time, wanting to know why we're not doing this or that – "

  "Are you thinking of anyone in particular? Your father, for instance?"

  "Well, perhaps. If he could see us talking like this he'd be crossing his fingers, hoping against hope that we were uttering words of love and that you'd be approaching him soon to ask for my hand."

  "Yes, he would," the Duke murmured.

  "And it's so nice to know that instead of that, we can talk just as friends, and nothing else, with no expectations on us, and no need even to think of love. Don't you find that a huge relief?"

  "Huge," he agreed wryly.

  "People say that men and women can't be friends," she said earnestly, "but I think you and I prove them wrong."

  "Is that how you think of me, Rowena? As a friend?"

  "Oh yes, as a dear friend, that I can trust and rely on. You don't mind, do you?"

  "No, I don't mind," he said gravely, looking at her. "I'm honoured to be your friend."

  "And do you think of me as your friend? No, no of course you don't." She held up her hands, shaking them slightly as though to ward off an absurd idea.

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because sensible men don't need the friendship of silly little girls."

  "Are you never going to let me forget those foolish words?"

  "I'm not sure that they were foolish."

  "I am. Very sure. I've been sure for a long time, and at this moment I think you're far wiser than I."

  "Now it is you who are making fun of me."

  "No. There are some situations in which women have all the wisdom of the ancients, and men flounder around making mistake after mistake."

  She laughed. "I can't imagine you making mistakes, any more than I can imagine myself being wise. But I shall grow up, and learn things, and maybe, when I'm very, very old, I'll be a little wiser than I am now."

  "You mustn't grow old," he said quickly. "You mustn't ever be any different from what you are now. I forbid it."

  The mischief was back in her voice. "His Lordship has given his orders. Can he command even that?"

  "If he could, he would. But there's one way in which I can command it.

  "In – " His hand stopped on its way to his heart and moved to his head instead. "In here, there will always live the picture of you, just as you are now. Young, innocent, and yet as wise as time."

  He saw her gazing at him, a little mystified, and hastened to add, "Your friend will always remember you at your best. After all, that's what friends are for."

  "Yes," she said happily, "that's the kind of friend I want. One who'll always think the best of me."

  This was a subtle rewording of what he had said, but he let it go at that.

  Below them they could see other couples strolling on the deck, young men and women, hand in hand under the rising moon. The scent of love was all around.

  "This trip is going to be a great success," Rowena said happily. "I'm sure we'll have some engagements when it's over."

  "And what about you?" the Duke asked. "Is the happiness of others enough to make you happy? Do you ask nothing for yourself?"

  "I don't know what I want," she said with a sigh. "Except that I want Papa to leave me alone to find my own love. Or let it find me."

  "It will find you," the Duke prophesied. "You were made to love and be loved. As surely as night follows day, you will find your own happiness in bringing happiness to a man."

  "But I wonder who he is," she said dreamily. "Is he near or far?"

  "What does your heart tell you?" the Duke asked quietly.

  "Nothing. How can it, when I haven't met him yet? But I know this much – he won't have a great title. And he'll love me to distraction."

  "If he loved you, perhaps you could forgive him for having a title," the Duke suggested.

  She considered this.

  "I'd try to forgive him," she agreed. "But it would be very hard, with Papa approving of him so violently."

  "Your father's approval would count against him?"

  "Goodness yes," she teased. "He must be my own choice and nobody else's."

  The Duke took her hand between both his and looked steadily into her eyes.

  "I hope," he said slowly, "that you have everything you want in life. I hope you marry a man who loves you as you deserve to be loved, a man who would lay down his life for you. I hope he never disappoints you or does anything to forfeit your love. And I pray that you will be happy all your days. For nothing but the best is good enough for you."

  Then he dropped his head, pressed his lips fervently to her hand, and left her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  After that the voyage settled down to being leisurely and pleasantly uneventful.

  But as they reached Marseilles there was an excitement of a most unexpected nature.

  As the boat docked there was a cry of joy from Jane Stanton. Following her gaze, Rowena saw Frank Dillon, the man to whom Jane had been engaged, standing on the quay, his eyes searching the boat with painful intensity.

  "It's him!" Jane cried. "Oh Frank, darling!"

  As soon as the gangplank was in place she flew down it and into Frank's arms. The two of them stood there, locked in an embrace, while the others crowded to the side of the boat, smiling with pleasure, and exchanging knowing glances.

  "Frank, Frank," Jane wept. "I've missed you so much."

  "Jane, my darling, please forgive me."

  "I have nothing to forgive," she said passionately. "It's all my fault."

  "No, no, it was my fault for being so pig- headed."

  "You weren't pig-headed."

  "I was, I was."

  "You weren't – "

  "Why doesn't she just let him take the blame and be done with it?" demanded Lady Honoria tartly.

  Mark's lips twitched. "Aunt, you have no proper feeling."

  "Nonsense! I've known Frank Dillon since he was born, and a bigger booby I've yet to meet. But he has a kind heart, and if he's what makes Jane happy I'm very glad for her. I just wish they'd stop blocking the gangplank."

  But when the two blissful young people came on board she was kindness itself to them. They all had to listen to the tale of how Frank had risked life and limb, tearing across Europe, desperate to reach Marseilles before the boat.

  "Your parents told me you'd probably dock there," he told Jane, his eyes shining. "I arrived yesterday and met every boat. I just had to see you and beg your forgiveness for my terrible behaviour – "

  "No, darling, myterrible behaviour – "

  "If they're going to start that again I want my lunch," Lady Honoria muttered.

  It soon became apparent that this was going to break up their party, for Frank had come to take Jane back to England. But how could they do something so improper as to travel alone together?

  The answer was for them to marry at once, and so a service was held on board, conducted by the Reverend Adrian Farley.

  Rowena led the bridesmaids, and it was to her that Jane gave her bouquet.

  Then they left in a
cloud of confetti, to go to the railway station, and start the journey home.

  "And, do you know?" Rowena mused that evening to Mark, "I never did find out exactly why they broke it off in the first place."

  "Why, because he was pig-headed of course," Mark said with a grin. "You heard him say so."

  They laughed. They were leaning on the rail looking out to sea. They had fallen into the habit of having their leisurely conversations late at night. Rowena, in particular, enjoyed them because they seemed to underline Mark's position of brother and friend.

  For some reason that was important to her. She wanted to keep him safely there, because she wasn't ready to confront the confused thoughts that sometimes assailed her. Sometimes those thoughts would come to her in dreams.

  Then she would see him again as he had been that night in Lisbon, his eyes wild as he demanded if she was in love with Brice, and later, at the door of his cabin, his shirt open. Then she would remember how he had seen her scantily dressed and blushing consciousness would flood her, yet with it a curious excitement.

  Last of all she would recall the fervent way he had kissed her hand, which sometimes tingled with the memory.

  No, she wasn't ready to confront these thoughts and memories yet. It was too sweet to drift on in this friendly companionship, knowing that later – perhaps –

  "You're doing it again," Mark said, looking into her face with a smile.

  "Doing what?"

  "Retreating into your inner world, where I'm not allowed to enter."

  He filled her inner world, if he did but know it. But she couldn't tell him, and so she smiled and said,

  "Poor Jane and Frank. Why do we laugh at them, when they love each other truly, and want nothing but to be together? In fact, they alone have fulfilled the dream that brought us here."

  "Even though they are a little absurd in their happiness?" Mark asked. "Let us be honest, neither of them is a shining intellect."

  "Exactly, neither of them. They match each other perfectly. Why shouldn't they be absurd? Is love only for intelligent, sensible people?"

  "No," he said. "You are quite right. There was something magnificent about their absurdity, because they didn't care about it, or about us, or about anything else in the world as long as they had each other."

  "Because they had true love," Rowena agreed eagerly. "And it gave them the courage to be a little foolish."