The Marquis, however, was firm.
“I am sending you back to London today, immediately after luncheon,” he said, “because it is important that you should put all your accounts together so that we can show them to the Solicitors as soon as I arrive.”
“And when will that be?” Terence asked.
“As soon as I have finished all that I have to do here,” the Marquis replied. “Unfortunately the Estate Manager whom my father trusted has proved to be a crook and a thief and I therefore have to put things to rights before I can return to London.”
“Then I think I should stay here with you,” Terence suggested.
“As I have already explained,” the Marquis continued, “you have a great deal to do so as to be ready the minute I arrive. Quite frankly, Terence, you will understand that at the moment I have no time for entertaining anyone, but must concentrate on the people who have been shamefully neglected while I have been in France.”
That at least was the truth and Terence somewhat reluctantly replied,
“Very well, I will go to London, if you insist, but two thousand pounds will not go very far.”
“Give a small amount to each of the tradesmen you owe money to,” the Marquis advised him, “with the promise that their total bills will be met as soon as practicable.”
“I doubt if they will believe me,” Terence said with a twist of his lips.
“I am sure you can persuade them.”
Just for a moment he thought that Terence was going to defy him and insist he had to have more money or he would remain at Melverley Hall.
Then, to the Marquis’s surprise, he said,
“Very well, I will do as you say, but I hope you are sending me to London in comfort.”
“I am afraid there is only the travelling carriage with two horses and, as I shall need the team for my own return here. But, as there is a change of horses waiting for you on the way, you should reach London before midnight.”
Because he had no wish to go on arguing he walked to his desk and picked up an envelope.
“There is five hundred pounds in notes here,” he said, “and a further cheque for one thousand five hundred pounds. Don’t forget to leave me your address, so that I can get in touch with you on my arrival.”
Somewhat grudgingly, Terence wrote it down saying,
“It is the address of a friend, as you will see, but if it is not convenient for me to stay there I will move into your house in Berkeley Square.”
It was a threat and the Marquis knew it.
Almost as if Christina had put a finger against his lips, he did not say what came instantly into his mind.
It was that, if Terence attempted to move into the house in Berkeley Square, he would instruct his servants not to admit him.
Luncheon was served at twelve-thirty.
And then at one o’clock Terence and his valet were driving away from Melverley Hall.
Only when the travelling carriage was out of sight did Christina say,
“They have gone and I can only pray that they will – not come back.”
“Amen to that!” the Marquis agreed, “but I have a feeling we are being optimistic. However, at least now we are free to proceed with the work we are doing.”
The Marquis decided that his first visit should be to the almshouses, which had been built by his father. They contained twelve pensioners, men and women too old to look after themselves in a cottage of their own.
Christina thought that it was decidedly very more comfortable for them than the dilapidated cottages in the village.
At the same time, there was a great deal to be done to the alms-houses themselves.
The warden told the Marquis that they had been so short of money that, on several days in the week, the old people had gone hungry.
After the almshouses they inspected the schools.
These, the Marquis learnt to his fury, had not been kept up during the war and the teachers had been dismissed.
Because the schools were situated at the opposite end of the estate, Christina had not been aware of what had occurred.
The Marquis made a note that they had to find teachers.
In one village they were lucky enough to meet a retired schoolmaster who promised to get the school started again and he said that he would supervise it until new teachers could be found to take his place.
By the time they returned to The Hall they had covered a great number of miles and Christina was obviously tired.
“I am making you do too much,” the Marquis volunteered, “and I apologise.”
“It is not that we have done too much this afternoon,” Christina answered, “but I was worried this morning that Mr. Verley would not leave. His being in the house frightened me, and I kept wondering all the time what he would do next.”
“Well, he should be in London by this time,” the Marquis told her soothingly.
Christina, however, was thinking that if she had not decided to go to the secret Chapel last night the Marquis would have eaten the soufflé at dinner.
Then he would have become completely subservient to his cousin because of the drug it contained.
The Marquis sent for the assistant chef and told him that he had discovered the trick that was to be played on him and that he was part and parcel of it.
“If you ever do such a thing again,” he said sternly, “you will be dismissed without a reference.”
The assistant chef almost wept as he apologised abjectly and the Marquis accepted his apology.
He said that he would not dismiss him this time, but give him a second chance and the man then took the sovereign from his pocket and, putting it on the Marquis’s desk, said,
“I knows I done wrong, my Lord, and I won’t do nothin’ like it again.”
“Mind that you don’t,” the Marquis admonished him, “and what I suggest you do now is to put this sovereign in the offertory box in the Church which you will find at the end of the Park. I trust you to do that.”
The assistant chef swore that he would and the Marquis sent him back to the kitchen.
He gave a sigh of relief when he sat down to dinner having learnt that Miss Dickson was not going to join them. She had sent a message to say that she hoped that the Marquis would understand but she had a headache and had gone to bed.
“Is she really ill?” he asked Christina when she joined him.
Her eyes twinkled.
“I think, if you want the truth, Miss Dickson is being tactful. She is astute enough to realise that something has upset us. She does not know what it is, but she has loved you ever since you were a little boy, my Lord, and she always knew when something was wrong.”
“I am sure that is true,” the Marquis agreed.
“She said to me,” Christina went on, “‘if you two young people have a problem, you don’t want me there and Mrs. Dartford has promised me a delicious dinner with, believe it or not, a glass of champagne!’”
Christina smiled as she remembered that she replied,
“’You are wonderful, Miss Dickson, as you have always been!’”
The Marquis thought it was very like Dickie to be so understanding and she had guessed that he would want to talk to Christina about the matters that concerned them both.
He remembered how bored he had been last night with Terence droning on about himself.
They did not stay long in the drawing room after dinner.
Christina said she wanted to go to bed and would say goodnight to Miss Dickson on the way.
“Give her a kiss from me,” the Marquis said, “and, as we have a lot to do tomorrow, I will order the horses to be round at nine o’clock.”
“I shall be looking forward to that,” Christina answered.
She walked towards the door and, as the Marquis opened it for her, she said,
“I will not go to the Priest’s Chapel to-night, but I will thank God that you sent Mr. Verley away, and you need not be – afraid of – everything you – eat or dri
nk.”
The Marquis was aware that it was still worrying her, and he said,
“Forget it! It is something he will not do again.”
Because he was so touched by Christina’s concern, he took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips.
“I do not know what I should do without you, Christina,” he said.
He saw her eyes shine, and a touch of colour came into her cheeks.
He shut the door behind her.
Then he told himself he must be careful not to let her fall in love with him.
‘She is very young,’ he thought, ‘and, apart from the ghastly Sir Mortimer, I do not suppose she has met many men.’
It would be a crime for him to go back to London and leave her with a broken heart.
Then he knew that she thought of him more as a father figure and he was worrying needlessly.
She would doubtless expect a suitor to be young, perhaps at the most, twenty-two years of age.
‘I am getting old,’ the Marquis said to himself.
It suddenly occurred to him that that was the truth and it was time he settled down and had an heir.
That, he thought, would put paid to Terence’s position as his Heir Presumptive once and for all.
*
Christina, having said goodnight to Miss Dickson, went to her own bedroom.
She now realised just how tired she was and despite Mrs. Dartford’s excellent herbal remedy to prevent stiffness, she was finding it quite painful to move quickly.
It had indeed been a long time since she had been without a mount.
‘I will be all right in the morning,’ she told herself reassuringly.
Because she was used to looking after herself, she had told Nanny not to wait up for her and she could not ask one of the housemaids either without hurting her feelings.
Nanny was delighted to be at The Hall.
She was enjoying the good food and having nothing to do except wash and press Christina’s clothes.
“I hope everything is all right at home,” Christina had mentioned this morning.
“I’m not worryin’ about that at the moment,” Nanny replied. “I’m just enjoyin’ meself and that’s what you ought to be doin’ too, dearie. We’ve put up with enough discomfort these past few years.”
Christina thought it that had not only been uncomfortable during her father’s long illness, but also that they had had so many worries.
The Marquis had swept these away for the moment and she did not have to worry now about the future.
She was just climbing into bed when she went to the window to have a last look at the stars.
It was something she had always done at home and now the stars seemed somehow brighter and the moon more silvery than it had ever been before.
The window was open and as she looked out she heard a strange sound.
She thought at first it was the cry of a bird.
Then as it came again and again, she realised that it must be the miaow of a cat in pain.
There were several cats about the place and she thought that one might have been caught in a trap.
The cry was repeated.
Although she leaned further out of the window, she could not make out where the sound was coming from.
She wondered if she could call the Marquis for help, but then she thought that doubtless he would be asleep.
If she was tired, he would be just as tired.
She put on her dressing gown, a pretty one made of blue flannel, which Nanny had made for her and it fastened down the front with small pearl buttons.
She went again to the window to make certain that the cat was still miaowing.
It was.
‘I am sure it is caught in something,’ she reasoned, ‘and if it is not a trap, it might be some wire netting.’
She opened the door of her room to find that the candles in the sconces had been extinguished with the exception of two, which were just beginning to gutter.
Running down the stairs, she decided to go to the hall and ask the night-footman to come with her.
When she reached the hall, however, she found that he was fast asleep. He was in the curved padded chair that was always used by the footman on duty.
He was a young lad from the village and Christina knew that he had not been properly fed during the last years of the war.
He was therefore very thin and pale and she reckoned, however, that he would soon be better with three good meals a day.
So she was reluctant to disturb him.
Instead, she walked quietly to the front door and slipped back the bolts.
Then she turned the key, which was so well oiled that it made no sound.
She ran down the stone steps and heard the cry come again.
She thought that it was from a big bush on the other side of the courtyard.
As she went, walking in her bedroom slippers over the gravel, she heard the same sound again.
It was very dark and the moonlight did not reach one side of the bushes.
At first Christina stood still and then she took a step forward, her hand outstretched in front of her.
Suddenly a heavy cloth was flung over her head.
She gave a cry of fear, but her voice was lost in the thickness of the material.
She felt herself being lifted up obviously by a strong man.
She tried to struggle, but the cloth that covered her made it impossible. She could not move her arms, but, as she tried to kick, she felt her feet being tied together.
She screamed, but her voice was muffled.
Then, as the man carrying her began to move, she knew without being told that it was Terence Verley.
CHAPTER SIX
Christina was being carried over rough ground.
Then, so suddenly that she gave a shriek, she was thrown down roughly.
Only as a horse started off and she was moving did she realise that she had been put into a cart.
Not only was there a rope securing her feet, there was also one round her arms over the rug, so that she could not move them.
The cart was an open one, she thought, such as the gardeners used.
One horse was pulling it and he moved very quickly.
It was agony as she was thrown from side to side and her head hit the wood on the floor of the cart.
She recognised instinctively that it was Terence Verley who had spirited her away, but she could not imagine where he was taking her or why.
She realised that no one would know why she had left the house.
The night-footman, however, might think it strange that the front door was open.
It would be Nanny when she went to call her in the morning who would be aware that her bed had not been slept in and raise the alarm.
‘Why is he – doing this? Where is he – taking me?’ she wondered frantically.
They were moving along what she guessed was just a cart track and then they were bumping along over rough uncultivated ground.
It seemed to her that she had been travelling for a long time and it was so difficult to breathe because of the thickness of the rug over her face.
At last the cart came to a standstill.
For the first time the man who was driving it made a sound.
It was a shrill whistle and a moment later Christina could hear footsteps coming towards them.
“I have got her!” Terence Verley called out and there was no mistaking his voice.
“Everythin’ be ready for you, sir, up at the top, but watch it as them stairs be creakin’,” Terence’s Cockney valet replied.
“I will be careful,” he answered.
Christina felt herself being dragged from the cart into his arms.
She was thrown over his shoulder in a ‘fireman’s lift’ and it was impossible for her to struggle. In any case, she had no wish to, in case Terence Verley should drop her.
Now he was walking over some gravel, and then it was as if he went in through a door.
&
nbsp; After that there were steps. The valet was right in saying they were creaking and Christina was afraid that they might give way under such a heavy load.
Up, up and up Terence carried her.
Then he was walking across a wood floor until he put her roughly down onto the ground.
Christina waited.
She was wondering desperately whether he would go away and leave her still imprisoned inside the rug.
To her relief, however, he pulled the ropes from her body.
As he did so, Christina heard footsteps coming up the stairs they had just climbed.
“I’ve tied up the ’orse so ’e won’t wander away,” the valet volunteered.
“Get the rope off her legs,” Terence ordered him.
The rope had been tied so tightly that it took the valet quite some time to undo it.
It cut into Christina’s ankles as he did so and, as he finished, Terence Verley lifted the rug from her.
For a moment it was difficult to focus her eyes after being in the darkness.
Then she was aware that she was in a small almost square room and he only light came from two candles on the floor.
Then, as she looked up at Terence Verley’s face, she thought that he looked as evil as the Devil.
“I hope that your Ladyship is feeling comfortable,” he drawled in a mocking tone, “because it is where you are going to stay and perhaps die, if his Lordship does not come to the rescue.”
“Wh-what are you – s-saying?” Christina asked. “Why have you – brought me – here?”
Terence Verley gave an unpleasant laugh.
“I should have thought that was obvious. Naturally the Marquis will want to rescue anything so young, pretty and attentive as your good self.”
Because the way he spoke was so insulting Christina did not answer.
The valet, who was standing looking down at her then said,
“Come on, sir. Gimme the letter. It’s gonna take me sometime to walk back after I’ve left the cart.”
“Leave it exactly where you found it,” Terence ordered. “The letter is ready, except for one little bit of extra.”
“What’s that?” the valet enquired.
“I want this pretty bit of muslin to add her plea to mine,” Terence Verley replied. “If I cannot reach the Marquis’s heart, hers should do it.”
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