Now as the door opened – and it flashed through his mind that he should have checked that it was bolted – a young woman came in.
She had fair hair hanging loose on either side of her face and over her shoulders and she was wearing, the Duke saw, a pretty blue woollen dressing gown that fastened down the front and had a small collar trimmed with lace.
He stared at her in astonishment.
Then, as she looked at him and he expected she would retreat immediately with a murmured apology for intruding, she came into the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind her.
“Please,” she said, “would you – mind very much if I – stayed here with you for – a minute or two?”
She saw the surprise on the Duke’s face and added quickly,
“It is just that I – think a man is – going to try to get into my bedroom and I don’t – know what else to – do.”
“What man?” the Duke asked automatically. “Do you mean a traveller?”
The girl, for she was little more, moved towards him until she was standing beside him in front of the fire.
Then she said in a low voice,
“He spoke to me downstairs and – although I tried to be very cold and – haughty, he sat down at my table – and offered me a glass of port!”
She spoke quite quietly and calmly, but the Duke was aware that there was an expression of fear in her eyes and her fingers as she spoke were entwining themselves in each other.
“Then what happened?” he asked.
“I had not quite – finished my meal,” she said, “but because I did not wish to become – involved with him I rose from the table and – said ‘goodnight’.”
“Did he reply?”
“He did not stand up, but merely said as I moved away, ‘I shall be with you in a few minutes!’”
The girl drew in her breath.
Then, as the Duke did not speak, she went on,
“For a moment I felt very frightened. Then, when I reached my room, I thought I would lock myself in and there would be no reason to be afraid.”
“Was that impossible?”
“There is a lock,” the girl said, “but it is not very firmly fixed and I think that a man could quite easily, if he wanted to – push the – door open.”
She paused before she continued,
“It was – foolish of me – but I did not think of that – not until I was undressed. Then I heard his voice – talking to another man he was driving with.”
Her fingers twisted themselves together even more.
“It was then I became really – afraid of what might – happen and seeing the – communicating door I thought I would hide.”
“So you went into the room next to mine!”
“Yes. But when I saw the light under your door, I knew you would – help me.”
“How did you know that?” the Duke enquired.
“I saw you when you came – downstairs to – dinner.”
“And, having seen me for that brief moment, you thought you could trust me?”
She gave a smile that seemed somehow to illuminate her face as she said,
“You look, like a – Royal.”
It was the first time she had looked at him without fear in her eyes and after a moment the Duke enquired in a puzzled voice,
“You mean you thought I was a Prince or a King?”
The girl gave a little chuckle.
“No, I did not mean that, not that sort of Royal but one with twelve points.”
“You mean a stag!” the Duke exclaimed, knowing that a stag with twelve points on his horns was referred to as a ‘Royal’
Again the girl was smiling and he thought that there was something rather attractive and elfin-like about her.
“I suppose I should explain to you,” she said, “that I often see people as – animals and the man who is pursuing me is definitely an ugly and dangerous – stoat!”
The Duke laughed.
Then, as he did so, the girl put her finger to her lips and he found himself listening as she was.
The wooden floor of the passage outside was uncarpeted and they could hear footsteps.
Then in the distance there was a sharp knock.
The Duke knew then that not only were he and the girl listening but also the man who had knocked.
The knock came again and then there was a sound of somebody raising the latch several times.
It was followed a few seconds later by a subdued crash, as if the man had put his shoulder to the door, then, having forced it ajar, opened it as quietly as possible.
Now, as the girl looked up at the Duke, he saw that she was very pale and her eyes were wide and frightened.
“How – can this – happen?” she asked. “I had – no idea a man would – do such a thing!”
Because she looked so pale and the Duke could see that she was trembling, he said,
“Sit down, you are quite safe here and I will see that he does not harm you.”
He thought, as he spoke, that he really should go out into the passage and tell the man what he thought of him.
Then after consideration he decided it would be a mistake and the less fuss that was made the better in the girl’s interests.
If the room was empty, there would be no point in the intruder staying there for very long.
“You are quite safe,” he repeated in a quiet voice, “and, when he has gone, we will make sure he does not disturb you again.”
“Thank you – thank you! I knew I could trust you to – help me.”
“I am flattered that I should have given you that impression,” the Duke said. “But surely you should not be travelling alone? Or are you lost in the fog?”
“I was waiting for the stagecoach at the crossroads,” she said, “about three miles away. Then when it did not come and the fog grew worse, I walked here knowing that when the coach did arrive the travellers on it would, if it was early, have something to eat while they changes horses and, if it was late, stay the night.”
“So the stagecoach is lost in the fog!” the Duke commented. “I am not surprised. But where are you going – and alone?”
“To London.”
“To London?” the Duke repeated. “That is a long way. Surely somebody should have accompanied you?”
She turned her face towards the door and he had the feeling that she was blushing as she replied,
“It may seem very – reprehensible – but actually there was no one that I could ask to – come with me.”
The way she said it made the Duke remark slowly and perceptively,
“I think you are running away!”
She did not reply and, after a moment, he asked,
“Is it from school? Because if so, I must take you straight back.”
“No, it is not from school,” she said quickly. “And it is nothing to do with you. I shall be quite all right if I might just stay here until that – man has – gone.”
“Suppose tomorrow night and the night after that there are other men like him?” the Duke suggested.
She turned her face to stare at him, her eyes very wide.
“But surely – not all men are like that? After all – he has never seen me before – tonight.”
The Duke wanted to smile at the innocence of the remark, but instead he said somewhat severely,
“No decent young woman would ever travel alone. Although you may be perfectly safe on the stagecoach because there will be other women to whom you could appeal for assistance, things like this do happen and, as far as I can make out, you are in an inn alone with three strangers – all men!”
“But you are – different!”
“So you are kind enough to tell me. At the same time I might easily be another stoat like the man who has just burst into your room.”
She shook her head and gave a little laugh.
“No, you are a Royal! I knew it the moment I saw you!”
“That is something I am delighted to be,” the Duke said. “But please ex
plain to me why you see people as animals?”
As she smiled, he realised that she had a dimple in her right cheek.
“I draw them like that.”
“Draw?”
She gave a little sigh.
“I am determined to be an artist. That is why I am going to London. I am quite certain that if I can find somebody to teach me or I can join an art class, I could sell my pictures and keep myself.”
“Why should you want to do that?”
“Because I am sick of being ordered about and told I have to do things I don’t want to do! Although it is a misery to leave my horses behind, I simply have to be independent!”
“But that is impossible for a woman.”
“Why should it be?” she asked fiercely. “Men are allowed to do what they want, but women are restricted, constrained, confined and bullied. There is no other word for it – they are bullied from the moment they are born.”
She spoke so violently and at the same time looked so small and frail with her hair falling over her shoulders, so young and feminine, that the Duke wanted to laugh.
“Now listen,” he said, “you have to be sensible about this.”
“Why should I?”
“Because you cannot wander about the world looking as you do and avoid being insulted by the type of man who approached you downstairs.”
“It is unfair that there should be one law for men and another for women!”
“I think women have said that since the beginning of time, but there is nothing you can do about it.”
The girl sighed.
“First one is bullied by one’s father,” she said, “then by one’s husband. How can I ever be myself and lead my own life unless I am rich enough to be beholden to nobody?”
“However rich you may be,” the Duke retorted, “you cannot look after yourself and be alone at your age.”
“I think you are wrong and I intend to prove it.”
He did not speak for a moment.
Then he said,
“Try going back to your bedroom, and facing whoever is waiting there for you?”
There was a touch of fire in her eyes as she replied,
“That is unfair and unsporting and in fact you are breaking all the ‘Queensberry Rules’ by hitting below the belt!”
The Duke laughed.
“Forgive me, but I was only trying to prove my point, that you need somebody to look after you.”
“Would it really make things better if I had some tiresome old woman with me, fussing like an old mother hen?”
“Yes, of course it would! You would be chaperoned and strange men would not dare to speak to you!”
“The whole idea is ridiculous!”
“I did not make the social rules,” the Duke replied, “and I don’t think you have the power to unmake them.”
“Then what can I do?” she asked helplessly.
“Go home and don’t run away again until you can plan your life better and at least ensure that you don’t become marooned in a fog!”
“That is something I cannot do – or rather – have no intention of doing.”
“In which case,” the Duke said, “Royal or no Royal, I presume I shall have to wash my hands of you!”
She looked at him apprehensively.
“What are you – going to do?”
“Personally I wish to go to bed and the only suggestion I can make is that you can, if you wish, occupy the empty room through which you just came or there is another on the other side of mine which I engaged so that I could be quiet and sleep undisturbed!”
She smiled as he said the last word before she replied,
“I promise you I don’t snore and I move about very quietly.”
She paused before she added,
“Incidentally, I am very very grateful and you are just as kind as I thought you would be!”
“That is all very well,” the Duke replied, “but now I feel somewhat responsible for you. After all, this may happen again tomorrow night.”
She gave a little cry.
“No, no! You would not be there!”
“Then – go home!”
There was a long silence and he knew that she was thinking over very carefully what he had said.
“I-I cannot do – that,” she murmured at length.
“Why not?”
He knew as he watched her face while she tried to find an answer to his question that she was not going to tell him the truth.
Chapter Two
The Duke waited.
Then, as if she suddenly thought of a way of changing the conversation, the girl said,
“I would like to show you something to explain why I am going to London and have your opinion on it.”
The Duke raised his eyebrows and she went on,
“It is some drawings and paintings I have done and they are in my bedroom.”
She looked towards the communicating door and the Duke was aware that she was frightened of going back to her room.
“I will fetch them,” he suggested. “Where are they?”
“They are in a canvas bag propped against the chair in the window.”
The Duke rose from his chair.
“Before we go any further,” he said, “I think that you should tell me your name.”
“Ilitta – Calvert.”
There was a distinct pause before she gave her surname and he realised that she was wondering whether it would be a mistake to tell the truth in case he knew any of her relatives.
He did not say anything, but opened the door into the empty room he had engaged and, leaving it open so that he was guided by the light from his own room, he opened a door opposite which he knew must lead into Ilitta’s bedroom.
As he expected, by this time the man who was pursuing her had given up the chase. But the door into the passage was open and he found, as he had expected, that the lock was broken.
The Duke’s lips tightened as he thought how unpleasant it was for any woman, whatever her age or class, to be insulted in such a manner by a stranger.
He was well aware that it happened frequently and older and more respectable ladies invariably blamed the female victim in question.
The Duke was sure it was often unfair, but the argument was quite simple, no woman who valued her virtue and reputation would put herself in the position where a man could approach her so unpleasantly.
Looking across the room, which was quite small, the Duke saw that there was a handgrip in which he supposed Ilitta had packed her clothes.
It was open on the floor and beside it propped against the chair, as she said, was a large flat canvas bag.
He picked it up and as he did so was aware of a sweet fresh fragrance, which reminded him of spring flowers.
He assumed that most young women travelling alone would be unable to afford perfume.
But he was sure from Ilitta’s appearance, even though he had only seen her in a dressing gown, that she was not poverty-stricken.
Then why, he asked himself, was she travelling alone to London, determined to earn her own living?
There was an obvious answer – her clothes had been a present from some ardent admirer, perhaps her lover, who had now left her without providing adequately for her future.
However, knowledgeable as he was about women, the Duke was quite certain that Ilitta was very innocent and inexperienced.
She had undoubtedly been truthful when she said that she had not expected a man she had never met to approach her after she had retired to her bedroom.
‘The last thing I want to do is to become involved in her problems,’ the Duke told himself. ‘She must go home. It’s the only thing she can do.’
He thought cynically that it was part of the new ideas current among some of the younger generation that a girl, even if she was a Lady, should think of earning money rather than concentrate on finding a husband to look after and provide for her.
Once again he told himself it was progress. Equally
it was something, in his opinion, to be deprecated and certainly not encouraged.
He walked back again to his room and knew that Ilitta was pleased when she saw what he was carrying.
Then she asked a little nervously,
“Had that – man been in – my room?”
“He has broken the lock,” the Duke replied, “and the door was therefore open.”
Ilitta gave a little cry.
Then she said,
“Thank you – thank you – for letting me stay with you! If you had refused I would have been – very frightened!”
“And rightly so,” the Duke observed, “therefore as this sort of thing may happen again and again, the sooner you are sensible and return home, the better!”
He saw a flash of defiance in her eyes and she parted her lips to start arguing with him.
Then instead she said,
“Please let me show you my drawings. I have a feeling, although I may be mistaken, that you have a knowledge of art.”
It might have been a bold venture, but it was in fact very perceptive of her.
The Duke was a patron of the Royal Academy and, because his own collection was famous, the Queen frequently consulted him about pictures she wished to buy for Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle.
The Duke had also advised Her Majesty and the Prince Consort on which of the modern artists they should choose to paint their portraits and every time they consulted him, they had been extremely pleased with the artist he had recommended.
Now, as Ilitta put the canvas bag he had given her down on the hearthrug in front of the fire and crouched down beside it, the Duke settled himself in the only armchair in the room.
It was worn and creaked under his weight, but as he crossed his legs and sat back he looked very comfortable.
Ilitta drew out a small canvas.
Then, before she passed it to him, she said,
“I want you to be completely and absolutely truthful! If you think I have no talent for painting, then please say so.”
The Duke, who had seen a number of watercolours, fashionable for ladies of leisure to indulge in to pass the time, had always thought that amateurs should leave art to the professionals and do something else.
Now, he was quite certain that he would see work, which if in oils, would be a messy composition and if in watercolour indifferently drawn.
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