“Lady Chiara!” Lord Darley’s voice now rang out through the twilight of the dawn. “Are you hiding out here somewhere? Your carriage awaits!”
She jumped, startled by this sudden intrusion into the peace of the garden.
“It is you who must go,” the Count sighed. “Your people are waiting.”
“But I – ”
She wanted to say that Lord Darley was nothing to do with her, that he was not one of her ‘people’. But then she remembered that he would soon be her stepfather.
“Go!” the Count urged, his voice rising. “Or they will all be upon us. I wish to be alone.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. But – ”
Chiara struggled to find the words to tell him how much she had loved dancing with him.
Now footsteps were approaching and the Count’s dark figure moved away, melting into the shrubbery.
If only she, like the swans, could climb up into the air and fly East over the sea.
If only she could escape.
“There you are!” Lord Darley came panting up. “I told Mervyn to come and find you, but, alas, the old devil has fallen asleep. He really is a disgrace. He promised he would keep away from the whisky, tonight of all nights. Come along, Lady Chiara, your glorious Mama is already in the carriage.”
The Count had completely disappeared, leaving just a trace of his clean spicy scent in the damp morning air.
Chiara, her head heavy and her heart twisting with pain, followed Lord Darley to the front of the house, where the carriage stood, ready to take her back to Rensham Hall.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Mama, what will happen after your wedding? Will you go to live with Lord Darley?”
Chiara hoped that the anxiety she felt did not show in her voice, as she took tea with her mother in the drawing room on the afternoon after the ball.
She simply could not imagine what it would be like to have Lord Darley sitting at table in her Papa’s place every day for the rest of her life.
But then what would she do, if Mama left Rensham Hall? Surely she could not stay behind all on her own?
Lady Fairfax was shaking her head.
“Oh no, darling. Poor Tom – he does not get on at all with his elder brother, Henry, who owns the estate. We could not possibly go there. We shall stay here, of course!”
Chiara felt glad for a moment and then her body turned hot and cold as she remembered Mervyn Hunter – for surely he would become a regular visitor at Rensham Hall once Lord Darley was installed here permanently.
Her feet still smarted from where he had trodden on them last night and her stomach turned over at the memory of his whisky-scented breath, so hot on her face.
Chiara looked down at her teacup, trying to hide the tears of despair that filled her eyes.
“Oh, my darling!” Lady Fairfax got up and came to sit beside her. “You must not feel sad. Tom is the kindest of men and it is my very dearest wish that we shall all live together like one big happy family.”
She took Chiara’s hand and squeezed it warmly.
“Forever, my darling!” she continued. “All together at Rensham Hall!”
Lady Fairfax was smiling at her, but there was an odd look in her shining eyes, which Chiara had not seen before, as if she was hiding something.
But perhaps it was just that she was thinking about her wedding and her life with Lord Darley and she felt that she should not talk too much about this with her daughter.
An odd wild feeling rose up inside Chiara.
She could see the swans in her mind’s eye, early that morning, flying out to the sea and she suddenly wanted to run out of the drawing room and keep running until she could go no further.
And then when she stopped running, she wanted the Count to be there, waiting for her and to hold her lightly and tenderly as he had done when they danced.
“Whatever is the matter, darling? You have such a strange look on your face.” Lady Fairfax let go of Chiara’s hand.
“It’s really nothing, Mama,” and Chiara tried hard to make herself smile.
“My darling, you haven’t fallen for someone, have you? For one of the charming young gentlemen you were dancing with? Please tell me you haven’t!”
Lady Fairfax threw her arms around her daughter.
“I cannot let you go, not just yet.”
It was all so unreal, for as much as she loved her Mama and Rensham Hall, as she heard her mother’s words, something deep inside Chiara wanted to escape more than anything.
“Darling, you must be very tired after last night. I am sure that’s why you are looking so pale. You shall take things easy for the rest of today. We are going to be very busy tomorrow.”
The odd bright look came back into her eyes and once again Chiara felt a deep sense of unease.
“Of course, Mama,” she replied, trying to keep a happy expression on her face. “I shall go and lie down.”
But even though her bed was soft and comfortable and the thick curtains were drawn to keep out the bright light of the spring afternoon, Chiara could not sleep.
As soon as she closed her eyes, everything swam before them and she saw again the swirling candelabra and the Count’s eyes looking deeply into hers as they spun and whirled across the ballroom.
*
The next morning at breakfast, Chiara’s feelings of dread and discomfort were banished by the appearance of a letter for her from Ely.
“Mama!” she cried, as she ran her eyes down the lines of Elizabeth’s neat handwriting. “I am going to be a bridesmaid. Arthur has arranged leave from the Army and the wedding has been fixed. Elizabeth will be so happy.”
“Well, well. And when is this to be? I am not sure I can spare you, darling.”
A cloud passed over Lady Fairfax’s face and she looked suddenly worried.
“It’s very soon, Mama. Oh, and Elizabeth will be going to India. That is why they are getting married so quickly. Arthur has been posted out there.”
“Well – I suppose you will not be away for too long and you must not forget in all the excitement that you have a much more important wedding to consider.”
“Of course not, Mama. I shall be a bridesmaid twice!”
Lady Fairfax then raised her eyebrows as if she was about to say something, but, although Chiara was waiting to hear what it was, her Mama remained silent.
Chiara finished her breakfast and helped herself to a handful of sugar lumps.
She was glad to leave the table and go outside into the fresh sunny morning.
Erebus’s white coat shone brightly and he showed no signs of lameness as he trotted up to the paddock gate to greet her.
She stroked his nose and whispered to him, telling him how happy she was that he was better.
But the peaceful moment was then interrupted by a clatter of hooves on the drive. Two riders were rapidly approaching Rensham Hall and Chiara’s heart sank as she recognised the tall silhouette of Mervyn Hunter.
*
“I cannot believe we will not see you again!” Mrs. Fulwell’s faded English-rose cheeks were crumpled with dismay. “Why, I have called to invite you to join us for a visit to the Opera.”
“Alas, the next time I sit down in a theatre it will be the Maryinsky!” Arkady said and his heart felt suddenly winged and light at the thought of the long journey he was about to begin.
And he mused about the glorious Maryinsky, the most famous theatre in Russia, where the very best singers and dancers in the world performed before the Czar and Czarina and all the assembled Nobility.
“You are so impulsive, Count,” Mrs. Fulwell was saying. “Why, you have only just returned from your visit to Sandringham. Marigold and Eglantine will be absolutely desolate. They have been so looking forward to seeing you again.”
‘So who can she be talking about?’ Arkady thought and then he remembered the two awkward fair-haired girls who had come to visit a few weeks previously and who had spluttered so impolitely over their glasses of Russian
tea.
He had completely forgotten about them. He looked at Mrs. Fulwell, disappointment so clearly written on her face and realised that she had been hoping he might fall in love with one of her girls.
Would he ever escape the ceaseless attentions from mothers desperate to foist their unmarried daughters upon him?
And Mrs. Fulwell was not even a member of the aristocracy. She was setting her ambitions very high.
He felt a twitch of amusement.
“Well, madame, you must look me up when you are in St. Petersburg. My mother, the Dowager Countess, will be very delighted to make your acquaintance.”
He could not believe that this little Englishwoman would ever manage the long journey to Russia. The very thought of her and her silly daughters entering the great salon at his Palace!
The expression on his mother’s aristocratic face, if they should suddenly arrive and announce themselves as his guests! That would soon put them to flight!
The laughter that bubbled up inside him subsided and a sweet painful vision sprang up in its place.
The beautiful dark-haired angel, so slim and so wild and so exquisite in her soft white dress, would not be out of place in the salon. She would easily meet the noble gaze of the Countess with perfect grace.
“Why, Count! That is most generous of you.” Mrs. Fulwell’s face was pink with pleasure. “I shall certainly do so, if we ever come to Russia.”
The Count bowed and made his profuse apologies. The butler would bring coffee for her, but he could not stay to enjoy her company. He must prepare for the journey.
He left the drawing room, his mind still full of the enchanting angel he had danced with. If only it had been she who had come to take tea with him.
He pictured her, sitting gracefully on the sofa in this cramped London drawing room, her tea glass held in her slender hand and her magical blue eyes fixed on his, full of the wildness and beauty of the open sea and sky.
If she was here this afternoon, he would not be in such a hurry to leave. But then the voice of reason spoke up, banishing his daydream,
‘Arkady, you are a complete idiot. She is nothing but a frivolous English Society girl – a little prettier than the rest, maybe, and a better horsewoman!
‘She belongs with that crowd of drunken fools who fell about on the dance floor. You are deceiving yourself, if you think she is anything more.’
His heart shrank inside him, but he could not ignore the scenes he had witnessed in the ballroom. The sooner he was back in St. Petersburg, the better.
*
“Sweetheart! Why are you being so distant?”
Mervyn Hunter’s cold eyes were fixed on Chiara’s face, as he stood with his booted legs wide apart on the carpet in front of the drawing room fire.
She flinched at the sound of the word ‘sweetheart’.
But he was behaving with unexpected politeness and formality. There was no trace of the awful lop-sided, drunken grin she had seen on his face last night and he was freshly shaved and wearing a smart suit.
They were alone together in the drawing room.
Lady Fairfax and Lord Darley were in the garden, discussing some new arrangements of plants. Chiara could see them, wandering amongst the flowerbeds and holding hands, from where she stood by the window.
“How can I speak properly to you when you are on the other side of the room?” Mervyn Hunter was saying.
“I hear you perfectly,” Chiara replied coldly.
He frowned at her and slapped his boot with the riding crop he carried. She did not like the sudden angry expression in his eyes and turned to look outside.
“What I have to say to you, Chiara, is important. I am not prepared to say it to your back, charming as it is.”
An unpleasant tone was creeping into his voice.
She heard his boots squeak as he came towards her and could not help a shiver as she felt his breath on the back of her neck.
And then his hands were on her elbows, twisting her around to face him.
“You must know how I feel about you,” he said in a low voice.
Chiara closed her eyes, blocking out his face and his fierce cold stare.
“It was agony to be away from you for so long,” he continued. “And then to see you at the ball, so exquisite in your white gown and I realised – ”
“Please, let me go!” she cried, twisting away from him, but he renewed his firm grip on her arms, pressing her back against the window frame.
“I just cannot live without you!” Mervyn Hunter breathed.
He seized her hand and crushed it against his lips.
Then, still holding her so that she could not move, he dropped to his knees.
“I adore you,” he sighed. “I must have you for my wife.”
“No, no!”
A black tide of horror rose up inside her head as he pulled her down towards him.
“Oh – look at you! Sweet creature – half swooning with bliss!” he continued, pressing his mouth against her forehead.
“I cannot – I don’t – ” she struggled against the tide of darkness that pulled her down.
“You can, you shall!” he said and now his lips were pushing against hers, demanding and impulsive. “You are mine!”
Her ears were ringing and she felt as if her soul was leaving her body, drifting up towards the ceiling, as the darkness overcame her mind and she fell to the carpet in a dead faint.
“Poor child!” Chiara heard his voice, as if he was a long way off at the end of a dark tunnel and her stomach turned over with revulsion. “She is completely overcome with excitement.”
A sharp whiff of smelling salts burned her nose and then she felt a soft cushion being placed under her head and her mother’s soft hand holding hers.
“Oh, darling, are you feeling better?” Lady Fairfax asked. “The colour seems to be coming back into your cheeks.”
Chiara opened her eyes.
The three of them, her Mama, Mervyn Hunter and Lord Darley were all standing over her.
“I-I am fine,” she managed to say, although she felt very weak and sick.
“I believe that congratulations may be in order!” Lord Darley piped up.
Chiara shook her head, trying to clear her mind.
“What?”
“Darling! Has is slipped your mind that Mr. Hunter has just proposed to you!” her Mama laughed with delight. “We are so thrilled for you!”
“No – I – ” Chiara stammered.
“You cannot have forgotten, darling. It was just a few moments ago.”
Chiara forced herself to sit up.
“Mama – I remember – ”
Then she had to close her eyes, struggling to keep herself from fainting again, as she now recalled the heat of Mervyn Hunter’s lips against hers.
“But – I – don’t – ”
“We must not rush things,” Mervyn Hunter’s voice rang in her ears. “It’s easy to forget that the charming creature we saw at the ball is still very young and how innocent! My poor sweetheart.”
Chiara then felt his rough hand replace her Mama’s, crushing her fingers tightly.
“You must rest,” he suggested. “I shall cease from plaguing you with all my devoted attentions until you are feeling stronger, my love.”
He dropped her hand and Chiara could hear him speaking to Lord Darley, their voices dwindling to a faint murmur as they left the drawing room.
“Whatever is wrong, Chiara?” Lady Fairfax asked, bending over her. “Are you ill? I have never seen you like this before. I should have thought you would be radiant with happiness. Your very first proposal! And from such a delightful gentleman.”
“Mama – I am quite well – ”
Chiara’s voice felt thick in her throat, but she had to speak the truth.
“But – I don’t like Mr. Hunter. I cannot – ”
“Not like him?” Lady Fairfax’s face fell. “But, my darling, he is Tom’s best friend!”
“He is n
ot quite – I don’t like – ”
How could she explain to her Mama the terrible distress that she felt when Mervyn Hunter touched her and thrust his lips against hers?
“Oh, my dearest Chiara!” Lady Fairfax was smiling again. “I think I can understand you. Mr. Hunter is a very passionate gentleman – he is so in love with you and he cannot help but show you his feelings very strongly. And, darling, perhaps that is a little too shocking for you. As he says, you are very young.”
“Mama – I don’t like him!”
Chiara felt her breath grow tight with panic.
“Oh, my darling!” Lady Fairfax was laughing now. “You will soon get used to him, believe me. We must just give you a little time.”
Somehow it was more difficult to argue against her mother’s amusement than if she had been angry and Chiara felt so weak and confused that she decided to say no more.
“Don’t fret, my darling, all will be well!”
She then smoothed Chiara’s hair back away her forehead.
“Just think – you and I have both had a proposal of marriage in the last few days – isn’t that a wonderful thing? You must not be afraid if you are not quite ready – there is no rush.”
And with that Chiara had to be content.
*
“This is a very unexpected pleasure. What brings you to London, brother?”
Mrs. Fulwell greeted Mervyn Hunter with a kiss on his cheek, hiding her strong irritation that he should turn up unannounced like this.
Fond as she was of him, she could not help but think how out of place he looked in the tiny sitting room of her rented flat cluttered as it was with embroidery frames and ladies’ magazines.
And she was sure that she could detect a whiff of horse coming from his riding boots.
“I’ve been thrown out!” he spluttered.
“What? But Mervyn – I thought the girl was yours for the taking. Has she turned you down?”
“She’s playing hard to get. Little fool.”
“Oh, no! Is all lost?”
“Mama says give her time and she’ll come round.”
He sighed and slumped down on the sofa.
“It’s a poor outlook for me, if Tom gets hitched to Lady Fairfax and the daughter gives me the cold shoulder.”
A Flight To Heaven Page 9