Hiding from Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “I would have pressed for good terms, of course,” continued Mr. Schilling. “But since he offered me a very lucrative business deal if I brokered the match, I shook on it there and then.”

  Leonora gasped loudly, her disillusion complete.

  “You and he – shook on it? As if I was a horse or a mule or a bale of hay?”

  Mama gave a low moan.

  “You have sold her, Mr. Schilling! Sold her!”

  He looked surly.

  “Now don’t you two give me any trouble. I’ve done the best that could be done for Leonora. How else is she going to get a husband of worth?”

  Leonora leapt up passionately from her stool.

  “I don’t consider a man who barters for a wife to be a man of worth!” she cried. “I don’t consider any man you choose for me to be a man of worth!”

  The mask was stripped from her gentleman’s face and what she saw in her mind’s eye was an expression as greedy, cynical and immoral as her stepfather himself.

  Mr. Schilling spluttered and rose to his feet.

  “What else is there for you, eh? Being a skivvy at the big house, invited to put on an apron and wash dishes? You fouled up your relationship with your aunt and ended up left out of her will. You’re not going to foul up this arrangement. You’re going to do what’s good for you and, more to the point, what’s good for me!”

  “I would rather die than marry a man I could not love,” cried Leonora. “And there’s one thing I’m sure of. I could never, never love a man of your choosing.”

  “Why you, you ungrateful little madam!” he roared. “You’ll do as I say or you both can go to the dogs.”

  Mama from her chair caught at his arm.

  “P-please, Mr. Schilling, d-don’t threaten so.”

  He threw off her hand and brought his face so close to Leonora’s that she could smell the tobacco on his breath.

  “I agreed with Lord Merton that you’ll marry him next week and that’s what you’re going to do.”

  Leonora lifted her chin defiantly.

  “Never! Never!”

  Provoked beyond control, Mr. Schilling drew his lips back in a snarl and raised his hand as if to strike Leonora across her cheek.

  Before any blow could fall, Mama rose with a cry from her chair.

  “Mr. Schilling! This I cannot permit. Lay a finger on my daughter – and I shall – order you from my house.”

  Mr. Schilling rounded on his wife in fury.

  “Your house? You forget. You’re married to me so it’s my house now. Obstruct me and it’s you who will be ordered out!”

  Blood drained from Mama’s face. She staggered back and fell in a dead faint to the floor.

  *

  Leonora scrutinised the doctor’s face anxiously as he emerged from her mother’s room.

  “H-how is she?” she asked fearfully.

  The doctor hesitated.

  “Miss Cressy, your mother’s heart is weakened, she needs peace, rest and freedom from strife of any kind.”

  “I see,” mumbled Leonora faintly.

  The doctor patted her arm kindly.

  “So you see, it is up to you and your stepfather to help her recover.”

  Leonora bit her tongue from replying.

  She was convinced that it was the strain of being married to Mr. Schilling that had made her mother ill in the first place. It was not possible for her to recover under his ministrations.

  Not that Leonora harboured any illusions as to the likelihood of Mr. Schilling helping to nurse his wife. He had shown so little concern except to mutter complaints at now being saddled with an invalid as well as a fool.

  And he had not relinquished his determination to make Leonora marry Lord Merton.

  Leonora watched the doctor descend the stairs and then turned and went in to her mother.

  Mama’s eyes fluttered open as Leonora approached the bed and she noticed that her mother’s cheeks were wet.

  “God, Leonora. I am so, so sorry.”

  “Sorry, Mama?”

  “If I had not married that man.” Mama began to grow agitated. “I thought to better our situation, but I – ”

  “Hush, Mama, hush.”

  Leonora knelt down by the bed and reached for her mother’s hand. At her touch, Mama grew calm. Her eyes closed again and she slept.

  She needed to get her away from Schilling House.

  But how?

  Aunt Doris might have offered sanctuary, but she was dead and her nephew by marriage had not even troubled to reply to Leonora’s letter of condolence.

  Even after she had tiptoed away quietly to her own room, Leonora still wrestled with the problem.

  If only she could talk to Isobel, the one friend in the world she could divulge her plight to, but Isobel was now far away in Brazil.

  She had only recently received a letter from her.

  Isobel had written that a wealthy family in Rio were seeking an English Governess. If only, she added wistfully, Leonora could take up the employment.

  Leonora sighed as Brazil was the other side of the world and she feared that she would never see Isobel again.

  She climbed into bed and lay staring at the ceiling.

  She knew that this time was when she was at her most vulnerable. This was when the image of the masked gentleman and the memory of how it had felt to be in his arms would come to torment her.

  Since she had discovered his true nature, however, she felt even more determined to dispel him from her mind.

  *

  During the next couple of days Leonora contrived to keep out of Mr. Schilling’s way. She spent much of her time at her mother’s bedside, wracking her brains as to how she might affect her Mama’s escape.

  It was Mama herself who came up with the answer.

  In a melancholy mood she now asked Leonora to go through her personal possessions.

  “In case I – don’t recover,” she explained.

  “Don’t be silly, of course you are going to recover.”

  Mama persisted,

  “My jewellery is in that box. I don’t want it to be appropriated by anyone else. I want you to take them now and hide them. There is a lovely ruby ring that was given to me by my dear friend Phyllis.”

  Leonora gave a start.

  Phyllis. Of course!

  “Mama,” she ventured. “Do you happen to know where Phyllis is now?”

  “I think she is living somewhere in Norfolk, on the coast, I have heard.”

  “Where on the coast?” persisted Leonora.

  Mama looked troubled.

  “Well, my dear, I-I don’t rightly know. She was brought up in Cromer. She might have returned there.”

  Leonora thought this was as good a guess as any.

  Later that day she sat down to compose a letter to Phyllis Godwin, care of the Post Office, Cromer. Someone at the Post Office may know of her, surely?

  She had just sealed the envelope and sent Finny off to post it in the village when she heard the sound of hooves on the road beyond her window.

  Thinking it might be the doctor calling in to see her mother, she hurried to greet him.

  She stopped in her tracks at the top of the stairs. In the absence of Finny, Mr. Schilling had answered the door.

  “Lord Merton, what a pleasure!” she heard him say.

  She sank down and peered through the banisters.

  She could make out a tall figure in a green velvet coat turned away from her, his head slightly inclined as he conversed with Mr. Schilling.

  It was he – her masked gentleman!

  She gazed down at his head and her lip curled.

  Some of his hair was grey!

  She frowned to herself. Not only was Lord Merton importunate and presumptuous, he was also obviously far too old for her. He must be at least thirty!

  She slipped back to her mother’s room.

  When Mr. Schilling appeared, as she knew he would, and invited her in whispered tones to come to the parlour to
meet a visitor, she refused.

  She said she well knew who the visitor was and she had nothing of any interest to say to him. Besides, she was unable to leave her mother’s side while she was so ill – as a gentleman like Lord Merton would surely understand!

  Outmanoeuvred, Mr. Schilling withdrew in a huff and shortly Leonora heard Lord Merton mount his horse and ride away. She would not let herself go to the window to watch his departure.

  When Finny returned, he reported that a fellow on a horse had lifted his hat to him as he passed by.

  “Did you see the gentleman’s face, then?”

  Finny shook his head.

  “Not really, miss. I was thinkin’ I liked his hat.”

  Leonora gave a shrug.

  What did it matter?

  She did not care what Lord Merton looked like anyway.

  *

  A reply arrived from Cromer.

  Phyllis wrote that she would be only too delighted to offer Mama refuge. Sadly she could not extend hospitality to Leonora as well as the house she lived in was too small.

  “No, Leonora,” Mama stipulated firmly, “I am not going without you. I just cannot leave you to the mercy of your stepfather.”

  Leonora had to think quickly.

  It was not her nature to lie, but she was convinced that this was a matter of life and death. She had to get her mother away.

  “You must not worry about me, Mama. I’ve – just received a letter inviting me to stay with – with my friend Isobel’s aunt.”

  “You have?”

  She drew out Isobel’s letter and waved it under her mother’s nose.

  Mama wavered.

  “Well, I’m sure it’s very kind of this aunt. You must give me the address so I can write and thank her.”

  “You are not to worry, Mama. Isobel’s aunt is now on her way to her estate in – in Wiltshire. She will send a carriage for me and as soon as I arrive I’ll write to you and – give you the address.”

  Mama sank back on her pillows sleepily.

  “Well, if you promise to do that, dear, then I shall be able to go to Cromer with a light heart.”

  Feeling relieved Leonora tiptoed from the room.

  She was making a list of what she should pack for her mother’s journey when Mr. Schilling appeared.

  “Lord Merton is calling after tea,” he growled. “I don’t want any excuses from you – you are to come down and be civil to your future husband. And I want you to wear one of those gowns he sent you.”

  Leonora’s face set like stone, but she said nothing.

  When Lord Merton did arrive for tea, Mr. Schilling summoned Leonora by means of the brass handbell on the hall table.

  Leonora regarded herself in the mirror with grim satisfaction before leaving her room.

  She had not donned one of the gowns sent to her by Lord Merton, as to have done so would, she believed, have signalled her acquiescence to his unwelcome suit.

  Instead she put on one of her oldest and shabbiest skirts with an ugly patched blouse and she did not trouble to arrange her hair either.

  She walked swiftly to the stairs and stared down.

  Lord Merton was below.

  The light was behind him and he carried such a big bouquet of flowers that his face was barely visible.

  Mr. Schilling was nowhere to be seen – obviously leaving the field clear to Lord Merton to exert his charms.

  “Good afternoon, Lord Merton,” she began. “My stepfather advised me that you intended to pay a visit. All I have to say is this – I do not wish to entertain you. I bear you no ill will, nor do I have any interest in you as a suitor.

  “Though I do find it astonishing that you persist in attempting to see me when you know full well that my dear mother – the only one in the world who may demand my devoted attention – remains indisposed.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Leonora turned on her heels and fled to her mother’s room.

  A few minutes later Mr. Schilling burst in.

  He was carrying the bouquet and his furious face seemed yet another scarlet bloom amidst the many.

  “How dare you,” he spluttered, vainly attempting to keep his voice low. “You have insulted Lord Merton.”

  “I have merely made my position perfectly clear.”

  “You are not entitled to any position,” he hissed.

  He threw the bouquet onto the chest at the foot of the bed and pointed at it.

  “Those were for your mother. Tell her when she awakes. You can also tell her that her daughter is confined to the house until she obeys my demands.”

  He then stormed from the room, barely preventing himself from slamming the door.

  It was a half hour or so before Leonora heard the front door open, indicating that Lord Merton was leaving. She moved to the window and looked out, just in time to see him mount his horse and ride away.

  She had to admit that his bearing was manly though his features remained as unknown to her as ever.

  When Finny returned from his daily errands in the village, Mr. Schilling sent him up with a letter for Leonora.

  The letter was from Lord Merton.

  “I am sorry that you misunderstood the meaning of my visit today. I only came to enquire after your mother’s health and bring her some flowers. I hope that she will recover soon.

  Meanwhile I look forward to the time when you will feel more disposed to see me.”

  ‘That will be never,’ thought Leonora scornfully, crushing the letter in her grip. ‘I will never ever agree to the wishes of my odious stepfather – a man who has made my darling Mama so unhappy!’

  *

  Two days later Mama left for Norfolk.

  Leonora remained cheerful, helping with all the last minute preparations.

  Then as she and Finny half-carried Mama down the stairs, Mr. Schilling looked on with a disgruntled air from the parlour window.

  Leonora waved her goodbye brightly, but even as the trap disappeared along the road, her mind was racing.

  She had told Mama that she was leaving the next day too and she felt that she somehow had to make that little white lie come true.

  Though utterly relieved that her mother would gain respite from the tensions of Schilling House, she was only too aware that she herself was now left unprotected from the machinations of her stepfather.

  Who knew what he would do to attain his goal?

  She soon found out the answer to that question.

  Tidying up Mama’s room, she was suddenly made alert by the sound of a key turning in the lock behind her.

  Spinning round, she raced to the door and shook the handle.

  Too late!

  Sensing somehow that Leonora intended to fly the coop, Mr. Schilling had decided to take no chances.

  She was now a prisoner at Schilling House!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Finny! Finny!”

  Finny put down the pail of water he was taking to the horse and listened. He was sure he had heard someone softly calling his name.

  “Finny! Up here.”

  He lifted his head and blinked as he saw Leonora leaning out from a bedroom window.

  “Miss Leonora!” he called out in loud surprise.

  “Sssh.” Leonora put a finger to her lips.

  She mouthed her next few words.

  “Is – is Mr. Schilling around?”

  “No, miss, he ain’t and I thought the house empty – till I sees you.”

  “Is the horse still in harness?”

  “Yes. I was just takin’ him some water.”

  “Good. Give him some oats as well and while he is eating, fill the trap with hay from the stable.”

  “Fill the trap with hay?”

  “Yes, then bring it here beneath the window.”

  Finny shook his head, wondering if Miss Leonora had not gone a little mad.

  “But – what are you goin’ to do, when I brings the trap round?”

  “I’m going to jump out of the window, Finn
y, into the trap. So make sure there’s plenty of hay to cushion my fall! I am depending on you.”

  Finny picked up the pail, grumbling.

  “I’ll do it. But it’s beyond me why you don’t use them stairs.”

  “Oh, Finny!”

  Leonora, amused despite everything, drew her head in from the window.

  Finny had been away for two days and had no idea of what had transpired in his absence.

  It had been two days of hunger and humiliation for Leonora. Two days when her odious stepfather wheedled and finally threatened her from outside the door.

  He threatened her with starvation if she would not agree to marry Lord Merton and as she continued to refuse, even Mr. Schilling grew alarmed.

  Last night in her sleep, she had been half aware of the sound of a key turning, the door opening and closing –

  This morning she had awoken to find a tray on the floor with a jug of water and two slices of bread and jam.

  It had tasted like a breakfast fit for a King and, as she was eating, Leonora had formulated her plans.

  The only person in the whole world who could help her escape was Finny and she prayed that Mr. Schilling would go off on one of his many mysterious errands.

  Leonora was becoming convinced that he gambled, which would explain his need for large sums, such as her mother told her he extracted weekly from his chest.

  She crossed to the bed, where a sheet lay open over the quilt, and began to throw onto it the few items she had chosen for her flight.

  She was not in her own room and had of necessity been forced to ransack her mother’s wardrobe.

  Leonora stepped back and took one last look at the room. She seized her mother’s hairbrush and then extracted two necklaces from her jewellery box.

  She closed the lid and thought.

  Then she picked up the box and carried it through to the bathroom, where she hid it in an aperture she had noticed near the rafters.

  At least Mr. Schilling would not get his hands on it!

  She returned to the bedroom and surveyed the sheet with satisfaction before knotting its four corners together to form a makeshift bag.

  She hauled it to the window and hoisted it onto the window seat. Then she turned and went to the chest at the foot of the bed.

  She rapidly found what she was seeking – a brown leather pouch with the letter ‘F’ embroidered onto it. Why ‘F’ and not ‘S’ for Schilling she had no idea.