“How do!”
A stout figure approached her.
“Oldroyd! What are you doing here?”
“Waitin’ for ’is Lordship. He often likes to take a drive down to the East End late at night and make a wager on a cock-fight – or a rat-baitin’.”
Elissa shivered with revulsion.
“How horrible!”
“Tis not a pleasant occupation, but many gentlemen enjoy such things. You should have your cloak, miss, in this mizzle.”
Elissa felt cold drops of moisture falling onto her face and shoulders and she knew that the expensive gown would be spoiled.
But she would rather have died than gone back into the hotel where Richard was in the arms of another woman.
Oldroyd’s brow was furrowed with concern.
“Shall I drive you somewhere, miss?” he asked.
She could see the dark shape of the coach-and-four by the pavement, the patient horses’ heads hanging low as they waited.
Elissa swayed on the pavement and suddenly her head was full of a bright golden haze.
In the centre of the haze was a pretty little house, its white walls gleaming like snow and a beam of warm light shining out from the open front door.
“Take me home!” she exclaimed.
“Miss, it be three days’ journey to Yorkshire!”
“No, no. Take me to St. John’s Wood!”
Elissa clapped both her hands over her eyes trying hold on to the heavenly vision of the little white house that had flashed so vividly into her mind, but it was already beginning to fade.
“Miss?”
Oldroyd laid a steadying hand on her arm.
“Please! I must go there, now!”
“Come, then.”
The coachman wrapped his heavy overcoat around Elissa’s shoulders and helped her into the coach.
“Hurry, please hurry!” she whispered, as the horses lurched forward, carrying her back to her old home.
*
“We need to discuss all this calmly and rationally,” Monty now proposed, closing the door of one of the small private salons that led off the ballroom.
Mercedes’ face was drenched with torrents of tears and hysterical sobs wracked her body.
Richard’s stomach crawled with embarrassment.
“Monty, old man, can we just forget it?” he said. “I really don’t care about the money anymore.”
It was true, for all he could think of was the vision of Elissa, so cold and pale and astonishingly beautiful in the diamond-studded gown – Elissa, turning her back on him and hurrying out of the ballroom as if he did not exist.
Monty ignored Richard.
He sat down on one of the small gold chairs and pulled some papers out of his pocket.
“It is all perfectly simple, Señorita de Rosario,” he began. “All you need to do is to transfer both the capital which you have misappropriated from Mr. Stanfield, plus the money which you have made from it while it has been in your possession and we will say no more about it.”
“Oooh! I am ruined!” wept Mercedes.
“Perhaps now you will have some sympathy for the suffering that you caused to my friend, when you stole his fortune,” Monty asserted, frowning at her.
“No, you – don’t understand!” a fresh flood of tears were welling up in the Argentinian’s eyes. “I will give the money back, but Monty don’t look at me in that cruel way, I cannot bear it. I am nothing unless you can care for me.”
“As I said, simply sign this paper, just here on the dotted line and we will say no more about it.”
“I cannot bear it if you hate me!” she wailed and then turned to Richard.
“I am not a bad person! Please, tell your friend I would have given the money back to you! My family were so poor, I just needed to borrow it, to invest – and now I have three times as much! I will give it all to you!”
Richard looked appealingly at Monty, but his friend was not giving way and he was still holding the papers in front of Mercedes.
“Look here – old man. Cannot we let bygones be bygones?” suggested Richard. “If Mercedes will just give me back my Papa’s legacy, I should be quite happy.”
“Take all of it!” Mercedes wept. “Only, Monty, do not cast me out!”
“Is that what you want, Richard?” Monty asked him ignoring Mercedes. “Just the original sum of money with no interest?”
Richard nodded and Monty, with a distinct sigh of exasperation, picked up a pen and made some adjustments to the paperwork.
Mercedes had only just scrawled her signature at the bottom, when the salon burst door open and Lord Hartwell stormed in.
“Where is my fiancée?” he snarled, seizing Richard by his shirt. “What have you done with her, scoundrel?”
Mercedes gave out a cry of terror and threw herself onto Monty’s lap, twining her arms around his neck.
“I have no – idea,” choked Richard, because Lord Hartwell now had hold of his tie.
“She is certainly not here,” came in Monty, “search the place if you don’t believe me.”
Lord Hartwell looked around at the tiny salon.
There was quite clearly nowhere to hide a woman in a ball gown.
“Very well,” he grunted, giving a final sharp tug to Richard’s tie before letting him go. “But your life will not be worth living if I find that you are in any way responsible for her disappearance.”
The girl in a bright magenta gown appeared in the doorway of the salon, a bottle of champagne in her hand.
“Come back to the party now, your Lordship,” she purred. “Your poor little fiancée, I think she must have the headache and has gone to lie down.”
With a wink at Mercedes she slid her arm through Lord Hartwell’s and drew him back into the ballroom.
*
“Miss, I cannot leave you here,” moaned Oldroyd.
Elissa stood in the soft rain looking up at the house.
The walls had been repainted a pristine white, just as she had seen them in her vision and the garden path was lined with a row of pretty bay trees in tubs.
Someone had very clearly lavished a great deal of loving care and money on her old home.
But the front door stood firmly closed, not at all as she had seen it in her mind’s eye.
“Please go, Oldroyd! Don’t wait for me.”
In spite of the closed door, something deep inside Elissa knew that she must stay here.
“Very well, miss. But you should keep my coat – and, miss, if ’is Lordship be on the warpath, I shall tell ’im the ’orses were fidgetin’ and I took ’em for a trot round the block.”
“Thank you so much, Oldroyd!”
She then reached out to clasp the coachman’s rough hand and then he was gone.
Elissa pulled up the collar of Oldroyd’s coat and waited in the rain as the rumble of the coach wheels faded.
Just as silence had returned to the street, the front door of the house opened.
Exactly as she had seen in her vision, a long ray of golden light spilled out down the garden path and then a tall thin man in a smoking jacket stepped out.
“Hello there!” he called. “I heard a coach come by and I wondered if we had a visitor!”
It was Mr. Harker, the art dealer.
Elissa pushed back the collar from her face and the light from the open door lit up her golden hair.
Mr. Harker gasped and held out his hand to her.
“Miss Valentine! At last. I have been searching for you everywhere!”
The hall seemed so different, as Elissa now stepped inside. It was very warm, as if fires were burning in all the rooms and from the walls, new gaslights shone with a soft bright light over a Chinese vase on a polished pedestal.
“Oh, dear Miss Valentine!” Mr. Harker exclaimed, as he lifted Oldroyd’s heavy coat from Elissa’s shoulders and saw the silk and diamonds that gleamed beneath.
“I have been so concerned for your welfare, when I could not trace you
, but look at you! Obviously I need not have worried!”
“Mr. Harker! Dear Mr. Harker! Please – am I safe with you here? Can I trust you? I cannot go back – ”
He then directed Elissa into the drawing room, now decorated in the Chinese style with painted wallpaper and led her to the sofa, where Mrs. Harker was sitting in front of a blazing fire.
Trembling with shock, Elissa explained what had happened since she had left London, and that tonight she had run away from her demented cousin, who was forcing her to marry him.
“My dear,” Mr. Harker interrupted. “You must put all of this from your mind immediately. You are now in such a position that you will never need to be beholden to your family ever again.”
“What do you mean?” Elissa asked, unable to make sense of his words.
“Elissa, your father’s paintings are now selling for the highest prices in London. His work at long last has been discovered. You will never want for anything again.”
“Enough!” Mrs. Harker, a plump woman in a rose-coloured gown, cried. “The poor girl is about to keel over with the shock of it all. Come, dear, let me take you to our spare bedroom and tomorrow Gabriel will take you to the gallery and explain everything.”
It was a long while before sleep came to Elissa that night.
She lay in her old bedroom, now the spare room, and though the swansdown pillows on the brand new bed were incredibly soft, they gave her no comfort.
Richard did not love her and the extraordinary good news that Mr. Harker had just given her meant absolutely nothing, for she felt as if she had nothing left to live for.
*
Elissa, wearing one of Mrs. Harker’s best flowered gowns with a belt at the waist, as it was more than a little too big for her, and carrying a smart parasol, emerged from the office near the back of the gallery where she had been sitting with Mr. Harker for the last couple of hours.
He had taken her through the full inventory of her father’s works, explaining when each had been sold and for how much and she now understood that she was a very rich woman indeed.
“Now I have to find another artist of your father’s calibre! The walls are quite bare, as we have sold so many paintings in the last few weeks,” declared Mr. Harker.
“Do you have anything of Papa’s left?” she asked.
“One picture, which I cannot let go. A portrait of yourself beneath a cherry tree. Mrs. Harker and I love it, and I should like to take it back to the house one day and hang it there.”
He pointed to a small side room, which led off the gallery and, her heart full of emotion, Elissa went to look at the picture.
A broad-shouldered young man had beaten her to it, and stood still in front of the picture, blocking her view.
Elissa gave a cry of shock and dropped hr parasol, which fell to the floor with a clatter.
The young man then spun round and saw her and a multitude of emotions passed over his face – surprise and joy and doubt and then joy again.
“Elissa, Elissa, Elissa!” he called out fervently.
She wanted to run away, but her legs were too weak to carry her.
“Are you all right?” Richard was asking, “everyone is looking for you.”
“I am – fine,” she replied, holding her voice steady with a great effort.
A cloud passed over Richard’s face.
“Your fiancé is incandescent with rage – ”
“I have no fiancé.”
Elissa bent to pick up the parasol.
She had to leave at once because she could not look at him any longer without breaking down and weeping.
Mr. Harker, who had been hovering just outside the room, now came in and stood protectively by Elissa.
“Good morning!” Richard greeted him, holding out his hand politely to the art dealer. “Richard Stanfield, you may remember me. I believe that you may have one of my paintings – Old Newman.”
Recognition dawned on Mr. Harker’s lean face.
“Mr. Stanfield! Of course. Forgive me. Alas, OldNewman is no longer with me. But you will be pleased to hear that it made an excellent price. I should like some more of your works, if you have any. Leo Valentine has had such a remarkable success these recent weeks and my walls are empty!”
“Can this be true?” Richard turned back to Elissa, his eyes wide with delight.
“Oh, yes.” Mr. Harker explained. “Miss Valentine is now a wealthy woman, I am delighted to say.”
“That is wonderful!” replied Richard and much to Elissa’s surprise, he burst out laughing.
“But – what a strange coincidence! I do have some other paintings but my present circumstances have changed dramatically – and I, too, find myself quite well off. I am not so desperate for you to sell my work as I was last time I saw you, Mr. Harker!”
“But then you must not neglect your talent!” Elissa added, forgetting herself and catching hold of his arm.
“You love to paint – it’s your life! Remember when I found you at the Old Priory, Richard!”
Richard took her hand in his, suddenly serious.
“I have thought of nothing else but you since you disappeared from my life.”
Mr. Harker gave a polite cough and withdrew into the main gallery, leaving them alone.
Richard was speaking in a low voice, first telling Elissa just how much he had missed her and then going on to explain how Monty had found Mercedes and recovered his inheritance.
“But I should rather not have recovered my fortune, than lost you.
“And yet when I went to Fellbrook Towers to find you and your grandmother told me how hard life would be for you if you married me, a poor artist, I thought perhaps it was best that you married your cousin.”
Elissa could not speak.
She could only shake her head.
Then, while she gazed into his eyes he saw the truth of her feelings for him, caught her in his arms and held her so close that time stood still.
*
“Monty, old man, are you free on the 18th of June?” Richard asked his friend, as they strolled together along the Embankment.
“Possibly,” replied Monty. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, you are becoming such a cagey old lawyer! Just say yes!”
“Not without knowing what I am agreeing to.”
“I want you to be my Best Man!”
Richard slapped his friend hard on the shoulder.
Monty stopped in his tracks.
“You’ve really gone and done it! Congratulations, old man! Well, I was planning a little trip abroad for June, but I shall have to postpone it.”
“Abroad, Monty? Where?”
“Argentina,” he replied and a faint blush crept over his face.
Now it was Richard who stopped dead in his tracks.
“What?” he gasped.
“Señorita de Rosario has asked me to help her out with some business affairs,” Monty told him looking rather embarrassed.
“Oh, Monty! “Please be careful!”
“Don’t worry, Richard, I shall. Mercedes won’t be able to get anything over on me and she is rather glorious!”
Richard shook his head in despair.
A broad smile crept over Monty’s face.
“I don’t think you are in any position to advise me, Richard!” he laughed. “And yes, I will be delighted to be your Best Man.”
*
“Everyone, but everyone has deserted me,” Lady Hartwell stared up at Elissa from where she lay on the sofa in her parlour, “except for this creature!”
And she stroked the large ginger cat on her lap.
“Marmalade!” Elissa sighed, as the cat purred very loudly at her.
She remembered how he had come to her when she first arrived at The Towers, and suddenly felt very sorry for her grandmother. For if it was true that cats always went to those who most needed comfort, then Lady Hartwell must be feeling really bad.
“Falcon has run away to South America,” the old woman wa
s saying, her voice deep with grief. “They say the girl is very pretty and has money, but he has not even brought her to see me. Why, oh, why did you not marry him, Elissa?”
Nelson, hiding under Elissa’s chair, reached up and licked her hand affectionately and his friendly gesture gave her the courage to speak the words that she had come to Yorkshire to deliver.
“I could not, because I am in love with Richard.”
Lady Hartwell gave a small cry of exasperation, but Elissa continued with what she had to say.
“I did not know that such a Heaven of love and of happiness existed in the world – and now we have found each other, nothing will come between us, but Grandmama – please don’t turn your back on us.”
Lady Hartwell remained silent, scowling down at Marmalade.
“We are intending to live here in Yorkshire – just on the other side of the hill. Richard is going to build a beautiful new house for us – we will be your neighbours.”
Lady Hartwell muttered something impenetrable about irresponsible impoverished artists.
“We are not poor, Grandmama, and we will come and see you every day – and Nelson and Marmalade too.”
Elissa explained about the fortune that had come to her from her father’s paintings and about Richard’s family inheritance.
“There is only one thing we lack and that is your blessing.”
“Oh, why should you care? Please yourself. What do I matter to you?” Lady Hartwell snapped.
For a moment Elissa wanted to stand up and leave, but she could not without one more attempt.
“Grandmama, I have lost almost all my family,” she pleaded. “I could not bear to lose you too.”
Marmalade’s purr rose to a crescendo and suddenly he jumped down from Lady Hartwell’s lap and strolled out of the parlour, his tail held as high as a banner.
Elissa could see a silvery track of a tear appear on her grandmother’s cheek and her heart swelled with joy as the old woman reached out to take her hand.
*
The little Chapel at Fellbrook Towers had never looked so lovely as it did on the 18th of June. It was decked with pink and white roses that filled the air with a glorious fragrance.
Elissa looked around at the smiling faces of all those who had come to celebrate her marriage to Richard.
Not least among them her grandmother, proud and resplendent in a pale violet gown and magnificent feathered hat.
The Trail to Love Page 13