And without another word to Elissa, he stamped out of the library.
She waited there rubbing her painful shoulder until the crunch of horses’ hoofs on the gravel drive outside told her that her cousin was on his way.
*
“My dear, that is a very fetching blue,” remarked Lady Hartwell, as they sat together in the parlour.
“How generous of my grandson to bring back such lovely gowns for you from York. But I hope, Elissa, that he has not been prevailing upon you to choose any more winners!”
“He did ask me. But I told him I could not do it,” Elissa responded, for she could think of nothing better than the truth to tell her grandmother.
Then she started, as Lady Hartwell reached across and laid a hand on her arm, which was something she had never done before.
“I am so glad, my dear. He must not gamble as he does – and, although I am glad he has had such a big win, I know that it will make him want to go and win more and more!”
Elissa felt suddenly cold.
“I wish I had never had that dream!” she cried, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.
“What do you mean, girl?”
Elissa told her how she had fallen asleep and seen the dove’s feather falling into her lap.
“So – I just – when I saw the horse’s name – Wings of a Dove – I had a strange feeling and I just had to say the name, but I didn’t think it could possibly win!”
Lady Hartwell’s eyes grew deep and thoughtful.
“Do you have other dreams, like this?” she asked in a low voice.
Elissa nodded and told her, stumbling over all her words, about the other dream, where she had seen the date of her father’s death.
Lady Hartwell looked interested.
“My daughter, Helena, your mother, had just such dreams. Sometimes I look at you and wonder where you have come from and if you really are part of our family. But now I know that you are. It pains me always to think of Helena – but at least, now that you have come, a little part of her too has returned to me.”
“I do not see her in my dreams anymore, but it feels as if she is here with me,” whispered Elissa.
Lady Hartwell’s eyes glowed brightly now, but she did not shed the tears that were gathering.
Instead she gripped Elissa’s hand.
“Be careful, my dear,” she cautioned her, “I love Falcon dearly, but he is impetuous, and sometimes greedy. Do not let him force you to use this insight that comes to you for his own selfish purposes.”
“I shall not, Grandmama, and I really don’t think I could, even if I wanted to!”
She realised with horror she had just called Lady Hartwell ‘Grandmama’ – and waited to be reproved, but the old lady said nothing.
Elissa’s fears subsided and a small flame of joy lit inside her.
What was it her Mama had said in the first dream she had just before her Papa died?
“A time of great happiness is coming to you – ”
Somehow in spite of her cousin’s anger and cruel behaviour towards her, she knew that she must remember those words and hold onto them, however difficult the way might be.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“We’ve made it to the top, Nelson!” cried Elissa, hugging the little dog in her arms.
She had been carrying him for almost half-an-hour, as his short legs had given up the struggle when the little path climbed steeply to the summit of the hill.
Now they were standing among tall craggy rocks, and the sunlit valley that lay below was revealed for the first time.
It was wonderful, at long last, to have arrived here at the end of the secret trail – and the only issue that now troubled Elissa was the blue cotton dress she was wearing for her walk.
When she had awoken with sunshine streaming in through her bedroom window and Ellen had brought in the dress – her cousin’s gift – it had seemed quite perfect.
Now Elissa was alone and as she remembered her Papa, she wished that Ellen had not persuaded her to wear the dress, for no one, surely, would consider vivid sky blue to be a suitable colour for a girl in mourning.
But then she gazed at the deep valley below and she caught her breath with amazement, her sadness forgotten.
A forest of broken stone columns and crumbling walls rose up from the banks of a stream, where sunlight sparkled off the flowing water.
“How beautiful!” she sighed to Nelson. “But I am sure I have seen this view somewhere before – ”
The pug wriggled out of her arms and set off down the hillside towards the ruins barking joyfully.
Elissa realised that she should not stay out for much longer as she must return to The Towers in time for tea, but she could not stop herself from following after him and her blue skirt flared out behind her as she ran down the path.
As she reached the bottom, her feet sinking into the soft lush grass, she thought again that the smooth stones of the ruined walls seemed strangely familiar.
It was very still and the only sound she could hear was the tinkling music of the stream as it coursed by.
“What a wonderful place! Oh, Nelson – wouldn’t it be lovely to live here? It is so peaceful and the hills are all so beautiful, I could sit and look up at them all day.”
She looked down, expecting the pug to be sitting at her feet, but he was not there.
“Nelson?” she called out, searching the long grass, but he had vanished without trace.
“Hey!” a man’s voice shouted from the far side of the valley.
Elissa jumped with shock.
Was it her cousin riding back from the races?
She was about to scramble back up the steep path she had just descended, but she thought that, if she did so, she would be clearly visible to whoever had just called out.
And she could not leave without Nelson.
She called his name again as softly as she could and stepped behind one of the crumbling stone pillars to hide herself, hoping that the little dog would come and find her.
To her great relief, after a moment, she heard an excited bark.
Then a small object came flying through the air and Nelson’s white body came racing after it.
“Nelson! Here!” hissed Elissa, but to no effect as the little dog was busy snuffling around in the grass.
Someone was whistling for him and Nelson trotted back towards the sound, carrying an object that looked like a pine cone in his teeth.
Sooner or later, whoever was playing with Nelson must surely come looking for her and Elissa decided that she would rather not wait, hiding like a scared child, but should step out from behind the pillar and reveal herself.
As she did so, her heart beating fast, she saw that there was a figure sitting underneath some fir trees in front of a wooden easel.
He wore baggy trousers and an old felt hat, just like her father used to do and for a moment she thought that it was him.
But, of course, it was not her Papa, it could not be him and neither was it a ghost for now he was standing up.
She saw, as he took off his felt hat to greet her, that he was a young man with brown hair and a wide smile on his tanned face.
“Forgive me, but I think your faithless little pug has decided that I am his best friend!” he called across to her. “I should never have thrown that pine cone for him.”
As she came closer, his smile faded and turned to a look of complete astonishment.
“This I just don’t believe!” he exclaimed. “It’s you! Elissa Valentine. Don’t you remember me?”
It was the young man who had come to the house in St. John’s Wood on the day she had left for Yorkshire.
“Yes – of course!” she faltered, her voice unsteady from the shock of seeing him.
“I had no idea it was you,” said Richard, “but I saw someone flying down the path and I thought a little piece of the sky had fallen! Your dress is exactly the same blue.”
To her embarrassment, Elissa felt her ey
es filling with tears.
The sight of him only a few moments ago looking so incredibly like her Papa had reminded her again of her bereavement and she felt guilty once more for not wearing her old black dress.
“What have I said? Don’t you like your gown?” Richard now asked her, seemingly surprised.
Elissa fought back her tears and explained why she did not feel happy wearing the dress – even though it was the same brilliant hue as the glorious spring sky.
“But your father loved bright colours, so how could you lack respect for him by wearing blue?”
What he said was so true and so kindly spoken that a tear spilled over and ran swiftly down Elissa’s cheek and she wiped it away, hoping he had not noticed.
If Richard had seen that she was crying, he made no mention of it. Instead he asked her where she was staying, and what had happened to her since they last met.
She explained all about Fellbrook Towers and Lady Hartwell.
“Are you happy there?” enquired Richard. “Is your grandmother kind to you? ”
“She – is indeed very kind and I have every luxury I could wish for – ”
Somehow, she did not want to say how cold Lady Hartwell had been to her and she certainly could not bring herself to speak about her cousin to this young man.
Richard was laughing.
“You have a much easier billet than I! Luncheon al fresco with bread-and-dripping is my lot and I am sure my landlady means to be kind, but persuading her to say even one word to me is impossible!”
Elissa noticed that the long rays of the sun were slanting through the ruined walls in a dramatic fashion.
“Do you come here to paint every day?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Papa would have loved this place,” she sighed.
Richard was suddenly serious.
“I think of your father often. He is my inspiration. And sometimes, when I am sitting here, I almost feel him looking over my shoulder!”
Elissa gave a little shiver and she told him how, years ago, her Papa had lived in Yorkshire.
“So he might have come here too?”
Richard’s eyes were shining.
“I’m sure I have seen sketches of a ruined building, just like this, among Papa’s old drawings,” said Elissa. “I thought I recognised the view as I came down the hill.”
The two of them stood in silence marvelling at the coincidence that had brought Richard to the very same spot where Leo Valentine had painted so long before.
“I wish I could stay here instead of at my lodgings,” Richard murmured after a while. “Wouldn’t it be the most perfect place to live?”
“I had just the same thought only a few moments ago,” Elissa answered, and, as she spoke, she was dazzled by the same golden light she had seen in her dream and the green hillside in front of her shimmered like a silken veil.
“What is it, Elissa? You have gone so pale!” asked Richard, sounding worried.
Elissa blinked.
For a moment she had just seen a beautiful building emerge from within the golden light with its pale walls and wide high windows.
“It’s nothing,” she told him. “Sometimes I think I see things or perhaps I dream them and I thought that I saw a house just here on the side of the hill.”
“I expect that’s because we were saying we would like to live here,” smiled Richard.
“I suppose so.”
Richard was looking at her so kindly that she found herself telling him about her recent dream of the dove’s feather and how it had led to her winning a fortune for her cousin.
Richard’s jaw dropped in amazement.
“That was you, was it! I heard the story of your cousin’s win at my lodgings. Please, Elissa, if you do have any more dreams – tell me! I could use some ready cash myself!”
And he burst out laughing again.
She gazed at his handsome face, tanned from many hours spent in the open hair and he stopped laughing and looked back at her with his deep blue eyes.
He was so full of life and energy that standing next to him made her heart beat swiftly and her head feel light.
He could not possibly be more different from her dark-browed tempestuous cousin.
“I don’t think that I can control my dreams,” she replied. “They just come to me sometimes. And now – it must be tea time – I should think about returning.”
“Elissa, may I accompany you? I think you might need someone to carry your little pug – he is wiped out!”
Nelson was lying in the shade of a fir tree, panting heavily.
“But your easel and all your paints!”
Elissa’s face was growing hot and she did not know if she wanted him to come with her or not.
She would almost rather have walked back on her own, picturing his smile and recalling his vibrant voice, than have him still at her side, so warm and bold and eager, making her feel almost giddy with his presence.
He was determined to come with her.
“Oh, look – I shall just fold everything up and leave it here under this tree. Who is going to come and steal it out here?”
And then they were clambering up the steep track.
When they were over the hilltop and strolling down the green path on the other side, Richard enquired,
“Tell me more about this gentleman, your cousin.”
A wave of confusion filled Elissa’s head.
How could she possibly explain about Falcon and how afraid she was that he might put more pressure on her to choose another winning horse for him?
“Oh, you are blushing,” exclaimed Richard, looking at her. “Perhaps there is something you have not yet told me about this cousin of yours?”
He was clearly teasing her, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
How could she tell him what had happened in the library that morning? She felt so ashamed and distressed as she remembered how Lord Hartwell had threatened her.
“I – ” she began. “My cousin is – ”
But her words tangled up in her throat and would not come out.
“Now you are going red! You are fond of him! Of course you are! Oh, foolish me!”
Richard struck himself on the side of the head in a mocking gesture of despair.
“And I thought I may have asked to see you again!”
“No, no, please – ”
Now her words were flowing freely again,
“I should love to see you again. It has been such a pleasure to talk to you about Papa and – ”
Richard’s blue eyes became intensely bright as he looked at her.
“Then I am a very happy man!”
They walked on in silence for a while until the dark mass of The Towers came into view below them.
“So this is where you live, Elissa. It looks almost like a fortress or a prison with those great battlements on the top!”
“It is just a very fine house, but it is good to escape sometimes.”
Richard turned towards her and took her hand as they walked up to the door in the garden wall.
“Do you think that you might just be able to escape tomorrow?” he asked, stepping back and letting go of her hand.
Elissa nodded, wishing that she could go on feeling the warmth of his fingers against her palm.
“I will meet you here then at two o’clock.”
And he smiled as he passed over Nelson, who had been snuggled in the crook of his arm.
“Yes,” Elissa murmured, “tomorrow!”
And he was gone, striding back up the path towards the hills.
As Elissa stepped through the door in the wall, she noticed a flash of movement from one of the windows on the first floor, as if a curtain had been pulled aside.
‘Perhaps one of the parlour maids is dusting there,’ she reckoned, as she made her way to the front door.
It was quiet and cool in the hall and she thought with relief that her cousin Falcon must still be at the races.
Sh
e stood still for a moment with her eyes closed picturing Richard, imprinting the memory of his handsome tanned face in her mind and remembering the warmth of his hand against hers.
“My dear girl!” the bell-like tones of Lady Hartwell interrupted her daydream. “I was hoping as it is such a lovely day that we might partake of tea on the terrace, but the hour is long past.”
“Grandmama! I am very sorry! I forgot the time.”
Lady Hartwell descended the staircase in a rustle of violet silk skirts.
“So easy to do when the sun is shining.”
Her black eyes were very bright as she approached Elissa.
“Perhaps you will take a little turn about the garden with me before the sun falls too low in the sky?”
She reached out to take Elissa’s arm.
After so long in the fresh air and so much exercise, Elissa would far rather have sat down to drink several cups of tea, but she could not refuse her grandmother’s request.
“My dear,” Lady Hartwell began, as they strolled among the neatly trimmed flowerbeds. “I saw you speaking to a young gentleman a few moments ago.”
A cold finger of dark apprehension touched Elissa’s heart, as she remembered the twitching curtain.
“Yes – he is someone I knew in London – ” she explained, striving to stay calm and keep her voice level. “Richard Stanfield.”
“What a coincidence you should meet him again in Yorkshire!”
A curious little smile hovered over Lady Hartwell’s lips and she spoke in a low gentle voice.
She did not appear angry and Elissa found herself relaxing. Perhaps at last her grandmother’s coldness had thawed.
“And what is he doing here?”
“Oh – the scenery here is so wonderful – and he wants to be a painter.”
Elissa felt her grandmother’s hand tighten on her arm, as she continued,
“Richard is a gentleman and – he has fallen on hard times and thus he is trying to make a go of it as an artist.”
Lady Hartwell fell silent, turning away from Elissa to look at the flowers.
After a few moments she spoke again.
“Ah – delightful! The first violets are opening, my favourite flower. But I think it is a little chilly now. Let’s go inside, my dear.”
And since she said nothing further about Richard, Elissa hoped that her curiosity was now satisfied and she had forgotten all about him.
The Trail to Love Page 10