“I want nothing,” he declared in a low voice.
Maud glanced at him and then stiffened slightly as she noted his intense focus on Leonora.
She turned round and, raising her glass to her lips, surveyed Leonora over its rim.
“Do you like dancing?” she asked sweetly.
“Yes, I do,” responded Leonora.
“Rather a shame, then, to be tucked away into this corner all evening, isn’t it?”
Her voice betrayed a note of false commiseration.
“Well, at least I can watch it all,” replied Leonora.
“Oh that’s just not good enough!” exclaimed Maud, as she clicked her fingers at the orchestra.
“Violinists, could you strike up please!”
Leonora saw the violinists glance at each other and then lift their violins to their chins.
“There,” crowed Maud as the first strains of a waltz rose up.
“Now you can dance. There’s nobody here to see. They’re all far too busy at supper. Go on.”
Leonora shrank back.
“I-I cannot – madam.”
“Of course you can. My companion here will be only too happy to partner you. Won’t you?” she added, turning almost fiercely on the gentleman in the black mask.
The gentleman stood silently for a moment. Then he drew on his gloves and held his hand out to Leonora.
“Come,” he invited.
Leonora’s jaw clenched.
She guessed that Maud wished to humiliate her in some way and she was determined not to allow it.
“Thank you, but no, sir.”
His next move disarmed her. Reaching forward, he took Leonora’s hand and drew her from behind the table.
“Come,” he repeated.
Much to her consternation she felt herself yield.
There was something compelling about this man’s character and tone that made her will melt away like snow in the rays of the sun!
“Splendid!” hissed Maud through gritted teeth as the two passed her and entered the ballroom.
“M-my apron,” whispered Leonora unhappily. “I cannot dance in an apron!”
In response her partner reached out behind her and deftly untied the apron strings.
In an instant Leonora was transported into a world she had never dreamt of, let alone experienced.
She was in a realm of air. Held close against this stranger’s chest, she was weightless and dreaming.
The music seemed to penetrate her very soul.
“Oh – this is so wonderful,” she breathed.
The gentleman said nothing, but gazed down into her ecstatic face for a moment.
Then he clasped her more tightly to him.
Too soon, far too soon, it was over and the violins fell silent.
The gentleman in the mask stood back and bowed as the sound of applause came from the antechamber.
“Bravo!” cried Maud Broughton in withering tones.
“Your apron,” she hooted, holding out the article to Leonora.
“You will have to revert to being a servant again, I’m afraid, after that taste of the high life!”
Leonora thought that she heard the gentleman draw in his breath, but she could not be sure.
She took the apron with fingers that trembled a bit.
“I am afraid that you are under a misapprehension,” she said in a low voice to Maud.
“I am no servant. I am here because the Rector asked me to volunteer my services for which,” she added more coolly, “I am not being paid.”
Maud toyed with the sleeve of her dress.
“Well, I suppose I must apologise. Not a servant, eh? So who are you? What is your name?”
“Leonora Cressy.”
Maud pursed her lips.
“The daughter of the widowed Mrs. Cressy? Then isn’t your name now – Schilling?”
Leonora tossed her head.
“I suppose my name is what I choose it to be!”
Maud gave a dry laugh.
“I interpret that answer as meaning you don’t care to be known as Mr. Schilling’s daughter? Well, who could blame you? His manners – or lack of them – have attracted a good deal of unfavourable comment already. He must be a trial to live with.”
Leonora was stunned.
She was well aware of the gentleman listening. She wondered why he, who had treated her with such gallantry a moment ago, should now permit his friend to address her with such effrontery.
With a degree of bitterness she thought of the old adage that ‘birds of a feather stick together’.
Maud and her companion were both aristocrats and would close ranks against someone considered an outsider – even though that outsider’s own grandfather was at least a Squire who had owned a large estate of his own.
“Whatever the merits of Mr. Schilling may be,” she said now with conviction, “he is my stepfather and I do not take kindly to your describing him in that manner.”
Maud seemed unabashed.
“A flash of claws!” she sighed, almost approvingly.
Leonora might have responded even more fiercely, but that at this moment a footman passed with a sconce of fresh candles, all burning brightly with their light falling on her and illuminating her features.
“Good Heavens!” exclaimed Maud. “What a little beauty we have here!”
Leonora was totally taken aback by this unexpected change of subject. She had no idea of the alluring spectacle she presented.
Her eyes gleamed like emeralds.
Her skin, so milky and translucent by nature, after the exertions of dancing, flushed deeply with redness, resembled a lovely pink rose after rain and her golden curls tumbled loosely about her brow.
“Quite exquisite,” added Maud with an obvious but grudging admiration.
She turned to her companion.
“Don’t you agree?”
Leonora could not help but glance at her erstwhile dancing partner, who had remained so silent.
She was immediately struck by his attitude. It was as if he had not only been watching and listening intently, but had also been – deliberating.
His gaze that she believed with a sudden rush of pleasure had never left her face was broken.
“Exquisite indeed,” he agreed in a bored manner.
Leonora’s sudden feeling of elation at his interest in her faltered, particularly as Maud seemed so satisfied with the tone of his reply.
“Well, come along now,” she said, taking hold of his arm and leading him away.
“I’m absolutely starving.”
Leonora watched them depart. Then she put on her apron again and resolutely tightened its strings.
For a few delicious moments she had tasted what the girls at Fenfold had discussed so ardently – romance.
She had experienced its highs and lows within the space of less than twenty minutes and she had survived – though whether unscathed was another matter.
It would be so difficult to forget the strength of the arm that had encircled her waist and the muscular chest to which she had been so firmly grasped.
The maids brought more pitchers of lemonade and the orchestra resumed as guests began to stream back from the supper tables.
Leonora was soon busy filling up the glasses once again and she tried not to watch the couples dancing.
Several times out of the corner of her eye, she caught Maud Broughton swirl by, but not always in the arms of the gentleman with the black mask.
Towards ten o’clock she took a glass of lemonade for herself and wandered to the window. It overlooked the sweeping driveway at the front of the house.
A carriage waited outside, its steps set down and its door open with a footman standing to one side.
Light streamed out onto the gravel as the front door opened. Leonora’s heart skipped two beats as a figure in a black mask strode elegantly down the steps and, gesturing to the coachman, climbed into the carriage.
The footman then slammed the carri
age door.
‘The crest!’ she thought. ‘It is surely the same one I saw on the carriage that had splashed my dress by the Black Jack Inn!’
Which meant that the gentleman she had thought so arrogant was the very same as the masked stranger in whose arms she had swooned this evening!
She rubbed the glass with the edge of her apron and pressed her face more closely to the pane, but the carriage was already turning.
She could not see the crest now, but she could make out a figure at the window.
As she watched, the figure seemed to look her way.
Too far to make out any features, it was yet near enough for her to see the gloved hand that waved in tender farewell!
Entranced, she intently watched the carriage move away under the elms that lined the drive.
In a moment carriage, crest and passenger were all swallowed up in darkness.
CHAPTER THREE
For the next few days Leonora found herself in an unfamiliar state.
At the sound of horses’ hooves on the road beyond the cottage, her heart would begin to beat quickly.
When passing Broughton Hall on her way to see the baker or butcher, she could not refrain from stopping and peering through the gates in the ridiculous hope of seeing that carriage bowling towards her.
When the postman arrived, she could not help flying down the stairs two steps at a time as if one of the letters might be from him!
After all, he did know her name, so it would not be so difficult to find out where she lived.
He had held her close in the dance – closer she was certain than was usual in these affairs – closer than she had seen him hold Maud Broughton.
She had even heard him agree with Maud that she, Leonora, was indeed exquisite.
Admittedly he had indicated a certain boredom with the subject, but might that not have been to deceive Maud? Because later he had waved to her as he had departed.
Was it really beyond the realms of possibility that he would come for her?
Time and the continued silence on the part of the mystery gentleman soon disabused Leonora of this conceit, and after a few days she was forced to concede that he had all but vanished into thin air.
‘You are just a silly fool, Leonora,’ she told herself severely as she brushed her hair one morning.
‘Perhaps you are pretty – in an ordinary way – but there are so many pretty women in the world. So why on earth should a gentleman choose one in an apron, hot and bothered after serving endless glasses of lemonade!’
Resolving now that the object of her affections had merely been amusing himself at her expense, she determined to put the whole incident at Broughton Hall out of her mind.
For this reason she refused an invitation from Maud to attend a tea party to thank all the volunteers.
What Maud construed from her refusal she would never know, as shortly Maud departed on a visit abroad to some exotic islands in the Atlantic.
All this time Mr. Schilling remained in Bristol or London – exactly where, neither Leonora nor her Mama cared.
*
One morning a dray cart lumbered to a halt outside the cottage and a man jumped out and began to haul down packages.
Mama, who had seen the cart arrive and gone out to investigate, called out excitedly to Leonora.
“Do come down. These packages are for you.”
Leonora descended the stairs in puzzlement as the packages were carried into the living room.
“They are from Bristol,” sighed Mama, reading the labels.
“They must be from your stepfather.”
As the wrapping paper was removed and the boxes opened, Leonora’s astonishment knew no bounds.
Here were dresses and gloves and stoles of a quality she had never in her life possessed.
She could never imagine Mr. Schilling capable of such taste and Mama’s hands were at her cheeks in awe.
“Can that be ermine? Whatever is Mr. Schilling thinking of! He must have such plans for you, darling!”
Leonora dropped a white fur wrap back into its box.
“That’s what worries me, Mama!”
Finny carried the boxes up to Leonora’s room and offered to help put their contents in chests and wardrobes.
“You’ll look a Princess in this, miss” he marvelled, holding up a beautiful lavender silk gown.
Leonora took the gown, trying not to reflect on that night at Broughton Hall – if only she had been wearing this dress when she danced with the masked gentleman!
Mr. Schilling arrived two days after the packages and he was in such obvious jovial spirits that Leonora and Mama were almost suspicious.
“Did some parcels arrive?” he quizzed Leonora as he took off his brown mantle in the hall.
“Thank you – yes,” replied Leonora, twisting a blue handkerchief in her hot fingers. “I must admit to being – astonished. Did you choose the contents yourself, sir?”
To her surprise, Mr. Schilling deliberately ignored her question.
“What’s for supper?” he asked, turning to Mama.
“Mutton stew and baked prunes, but Mr. Schilling, Leonora wishes to discuss the generous gifts you sent her.”
“Later, later!” he puffed.
All through supper, whenever Leonora glanced Mr. Schilling’s way, he would give her a conspiratorial wink.
She was at a loss as to what this might portend.
After supper she, Mama and Mr. Schilling repaired to the parlour, where he sank into his leather chair whilst Leonora sat on a stool by Mama’s chair.
He brought out his pipe, caught her eye and gave yet another of his winks.
“No more worries about your future!” he muttered.
Leonora straightened up on her stool.
“I don’t consider my future a worry. I shall return to Fenfold and continue with my education. When I leave, I hope to find employment as a Governess.”
Mr. Schilling lit his pipe.
“You can forget about Fenfold. I’m not paying for you to return there.”
“I don’t expect you to. Mama has kindly offered to pay the fees.”
“Oh, has she?”
Mr. Schilling took a deep draw on his pipe and let out a trail of smoke before replying,
“And where, pray, will she find the money?”
Mama stared at him.
“Why, I have been saving up the dividend from my late husband’s bond. So there’s a small amount there and I shall now sell the bond and capitalise on its full value.”
Mr. Schilling gave a strange smile.
“Can’t sell what you don’t have,” he remarked.
“D-don’t have?”
Mr. Schilling pointed his pipe at her.
“It’s just like this, you see. Once a woman marries, what’s hers is her husband’s. Surely you know that?”
“The issue n-never arose b-between us – ”
Leonora was watching Mr. Schilling.
“Why don’t you get to the point, sir?”
He took another puff on his pipe.
“I took the liberty of selling that bond, as was my right,” he responded with ill-concealed relish.
“I spent so much renovating this cottage, I needed some funds to invest in new investments. And so there you have it, Mrs. Schilling. You no longer have any money, so Leonora can’t go back to school and there’s an end of it.”
“H-how could you do t-this to me – to us?”
Mama dropped her head to her breast and began to weep silently.
Leonora felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of her body.
She had guessed that her stepfather was a fortune-hunter as well as an opportunist – but that he also more or less amounted to a thief was too much to bear.
She took her mother’s hand in hers.
“Don’t cry. It’ll work out for the best, I’m sure, Mama.”
Mr. Schilling laughed and waved his pipe at her.
“And that’s where you’re
correct for once, missy. You can tell your mother that there’s no need to take on so. Not when she’s got a fortune sitting right here at her knee.”
Leonora’s fingers tightened on Mama’s hand, while she looked up slowly and fearfully.
“W-what do you – mean, Mr. Schilling?”
“I mean just this, Mrs. Schilling. Those clothes that were sent to your daughter have a purpose. They’re for her entrance into Society.”
Leonora could not believe her ears.
“Do you mean that I am the ‘investment’ you have spent my mother’s money on?”
“Sending you to Fenfold was an investment, wasn’t it? Well, I reckon I’ve found a better one, though for your information the money for those clothes didn’t come out of my purse – or your mothers. I had some other projects I wanted to invest in.”
Leonora and her mother stared at him blankly.
“Then just who – who paid for the clothes?” asked Mama in a low voice.
Mr. Schilling leaned back in his chair and surveyed his wife and stepdaughter with satisfaction.
“Her fiancé did,” he replied.
Leonora paled.
“My f-fiancé? I haven’t got a fiancé!”
“You have now! And he’s as rich as Croesus!”
“Explain yourself,” demanded Mama.
“Yes,” echoed Leonora. “Explain yourself – sir.”
“With great pleasure, ladies. One of my colleagues in Bristol invited me to his Club for a game of cards.
“We’d just taken a refreshment break when I was approached by a certain Lord Merton. He has been living abroad for some years, but he recently returned to England to find himself a young wife. He knew about my pretty stepdaughter and thought she was the ideal candidate.”
“But – this Lord Merton has never even seen me!” cried Leonora in utter bewilderment.
“Oh, yes, indeed he has,” returned her stepfather in a triumphant tone.
“Twice! Once when his carriage ran through a puddle and splashed your gown and once when you were helping out at Broughton Hall.”
Leonora’s head swam.
The masked gentleman!
She had surely wished he might come for her, but could she ever have imagined that it would be in such an underhand way – to approach her stepfather over a game of cards in an inferior gentleman’s Club that reeked of stale tobacco smoke and dirty ale glasses!
Hiding from Love Page 4