Alita paused for a moment and then went on,
“It was only a question of waiting a week or so for the money to arrive from his friend’s father. If he had not been able to pay his gambling debts – which as you know are debts of honour – it would have been very – unpleasant for him.”
“I understand – so he disappeared!”
“No – no! He would – never have done that – but he was – killed out hunting.”
There was silence as Alita paused, and then Clint Wilbur said,
“So your father was faced with having to find the money?”
“He was desperate – absolutely desperate – and he knew that it would be almost impossible for Uncle Lionel, even if he had been willing – to find such a large sum.”
There was another silence and, after a while, Clint Wilbur asked,
“What did he do?”
It was as if Alita could not bring herself to say the words.
Then at last, almost in a whisper, they came from her lips,
“He – had had a great deal to – drink and went to his – Club in – St. James’s and – and he – ”
Again there was a silence before she went on in a hurried little voice, as if she must say the words as quickly as possible,
“He – cheated at – cards! He was – seen doing it not only by his – friends but also by several – acquaintances.”
She gave a pitiable little sob.
“There was no – question of being able to – hush it up. Papa knew too that it would bring – disgrace not only on – us but on the whole – family!”
Again there was silence.
Then Alita said in a voice that Clint Wilbur could barely hear,
“He-he shot himself – he felt that it was the only – honourable thing he – could do.”
As she spoke, she bowed her head and put her hands up to her face.
She had said it.
Now he knew what had happened.
It was impossible to put into words the horror of what had followed.
Her uncle’s anger, her mother’s death a month later and the decision that she must disappear so that the whole episode would gradually be forgotten.
“No one would ever ask you inside their houses,” the Duke had said harshly. “No one would associate with the daughter of a cheat. You cannot even work for your living, because it would be impossible for anyone to give you a reference.”
He paused before saying sharply and contemptuously,
“I will take you to The Castle, but you must quite understand that you will not meet my friends and no one, except the servants, who have known you since you were a child, must even be aware that I have a niece.”
His voice had been bitter as he had added,
“I am ashamed, deeply ashamed, that any brother of mine should have behaved in such a way. But he is dead, your mother is dead and, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, you are dead too!”
The way he had spoken made Alita feel as if she was already buried.
For a long time she had crept about The Castle, feeling that she was only a ghost of her former self and being surprised when people actually saw that she was there.
Then she had worked with the horses and made some kind of life for herself.
The Duchess had always despised her and she knew that nine times out of ten when her uncle looked at her he saw a blot on the family name and hated her as he hated the memory of his own brother.
She felt tears trickling through her fingers, but still there was not the sound she expected.
She listened to hear Clint Wilbur leaving, opening the door and walking out of her life.
She felt the agony of it like a thousand daggers in her breast.
Then suddenly he spoke and she knew that he had not moved.
“Is that – all?”
There was in his voice a note that she did not understand and she could not answer, thinking that there was no reply she could give to his question, and her tears began to fall even faster.
Now she wanted him to leave, wanted him to go, wanted the agony to be over so that she could collapse completely.
Then suddenly his arms were round her and he was holding her close against him.
“My darling, my sweet!” he breathed and she thought that she could not be hearing aright. “Why did you not tell me all this before? Did you think that it would matter to me?”
“B-but – he – cheated!” she managed to stammer, thinking that perhaps he had not understood. “Papa – cheated at cards!”
“My father is always supposed to have cheated to gain an entire railroad,” Clint Wilbur answered, “and my grandfather definitely cheated his partner out of a gold mine!”
There was a note of amusement in his voice and now, as he pulled Alita’s hands away from her face, she saw, to her utter astonishment, that he was smiling.
“Do you really think, my absurd ridiculous darling, that a few cards, however manipulated by your father, could keep me from making you my wife?”
She stared up at him, thinking that she could not have heard him correctly, but he went on,
“I am prepared to cheat in every Club, to pull my horses on every Racecourse and certainly to cheat your uncle, if that is the only way I can have you!”
He paused for a moment and then added,
“And cheating him is exactly what I intend to do!”
Then he was kissing her again so it was quite impossible for Alita to answer him.
Chapter Seven
Clint raised his head and, with a smile on his lips, looked down at Alita’s flushed excited face.
“Go upstairs, my lovely one,” he said. “Collect the gown you wore last night and your other habit. You will not need anything else.”
“But – I don’t – understand,” Alita managed to say.
She was shy from the wild excitement of his kisses and being so close in his arms had aroused emotions she had never known before.
“We are to be married,” he said. “Have you forgotten?”
“Now?” she enquired.
“In a few hours,” he replied, “and the sooner we are on our way the better!”
“But – how can we – how can we – leave without telling – Uncle Lionel?”
“I will do that,” Clint said grimly. “I will leave him a note, which is all he deserves for the way he has treated you.”
“He always said that – no man would ever marry me.”
“Except me,” Clint said with a smile, “and I am glad – very glad – that I have no rivals.”
He put his hand under her chin and turned her face up to his.
“Do you realise how beautiful you are?” he said. “I shall be a very jealous husband!”
“How could you think – how could you – imagine that I would ever – look at anyone – except you?” she asked. “I love you so – overwhelmingly that it is impossible to know that there are any other – men in the whole world.”
The touch of passion in her voice moved him and he laid his cheek against hers.
“I love you too,” he said, “and there will be plenty of time for us to tell each other of our love, but now I am anxious to be on our way. The train is waiting.”
“The – train?” Alita questioned. “But – where are we – going?”
“To be married,” he answered, “and that will take place on our way to Holyhead.”
She stared at him in wonder and he explained,
“We are going to Ireland. I think it would be a new experience for both of us to hunt there this winter. And when we get back to Marshfield you will be my wife and I shall defy anyone not to accept you as warmheartedly as they accept me.”
“But – Uncle Lionel?” Alita said falteringly.
“What the Duke does or does not do is of very little consequence,” Clint Wilbur answered. “But I have a feeling that he will be wise enough to be gracious to his neighbour’s wife.”
Alita thought tha
t this was likely. The Duke would be conscious of the financial benefits he would gain in having such a rich neighbour and, once he was over the shock, he would find some explanation for their relationship.
But she told herself that nothing mattered except that she would be with her husband.
“But how – can you leave the – horses?” she asked.
She knew that he would have an answer, but because it all seemed so incredible and so amazing, she had to ask for an explanation.
“They will be in safe hands,” he answered, “including Flamingo.”
He knew that she was waiting for more and he added,
“Burt has promised to stay and look after them and he will hunt with the Quexby until we return.”
“You have thought of – everything,” Alita said with a little sigh. “But I am still – afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No, of course not! Of running – away. I know that Uncle Lionel will be very – angry.”
“He will recover,” Clint said with a sarcastic little twist of his lips. “And I do not intend you to be upset or involved in any arguments. You know how much I dislike them.”
She pressed herself a little closer to him.
“I am not arguing,” she said, “but how can I be – married in a – riding habit?”
“You look very lovely in it,” he replied. “But actually you will find a very suitable gown and a number of other things that you will require, waiting for you in the train.”
She gave a little cry.
“How could you have done anything so – fantastic? How could you be so – marvellous – to me?”
Her voice broke and she hid her face so that he could not see her tears.
This could not be happening.
This could not be real!
After three years of being despised, ignored and snubbed, that Clint should love her and want to marry her was almost too much to bear.
As if he understood what she was feeling, he said very gently,
It is all in the past and the future, my darling, is ours.”
He knew that she made an effort at self-control and he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away her tears.
It was of very soft linen and smelt of Eau de Cologne and because he was so gentle it made her want to cry all the more.
“Hurry upstairs,” he urged. “There is so much to talk about, so much to tell each other and, if you don’t go now, we shall be standing here like statues when your uncle and aunt return.”
If anything could have made Alita move quickly it was the thought of encountering the Duke and his anger or hearing the Duchess’s sharp voice reprimanding her.
She knew that even while Clint would defend her, it would spoil the dream-like quality that now enveloped her like a rainbow.
It was all so perfect, so like the happy ending of a fairy story, that she knew it must not be touched by rough fingers or spoilt by quarrels and recriminations.
“I will go,” she said simply.
Then because she loved him so overwhelmingly, she pressed her lips to his cheek.
He pulled her almost violently against him and the fire was back in his eyes, but as if he thought it was a mistake to delay things any further, he merely kissed her swiftly and said,
“I give you five minutes and not a second longer! Where can I write a note to your uncle?”
“There is a writing table in the library next door,” Alita said.
Then, thinking how much there was to do in only five minutes, she ran across the hall and upstairs to her bedroom.
No one had been there since she had left and she pulled the leather case out from under the bed.
Throwing aside her old habit and her disreputable old boots, she repacked the black habit that she had worn last night and on top of it she laid the beautiful yellow evening gown with its lace-trimmed petticoats. There were masses of tissue paper to keep it from being creased.
Having closed the case, she then fetched the hat boxes from the locked wardrobe.
One, she thought, would travel empty because she must wear the grey hat that matched her habit.
She put it on in front of the mirror and found it hard to recognise herself in the starry-eyed reflection that looked back at her.
Could this really be the same girl who when she dressed in the morning had never looked in a mirror because there would be no one to see her except the horses? No one to care if she was tidy or untidy, ugly or pretty.
A paean of gratitude rose within her as she thought about how her life had changed.
“Thank you, God! Thank you, God!” she cried out loud.
Because she felt that her father, wherever he was, would know that she would no longer suffer because of him, she sent a little prayer winging towards him.
‘I understand, Papa,’ she told him, ‘why you behaved as you did, but now the nightmare is over and I have found love – the love of a man who is not – shocked, as all the other people have been.’
Then, as she turned from the mirror, she was still a little doubtful.
Supposing Clint was just being kind? Supposing he really minded deep down inside that his wife should be the daughter of a man who had been ostracised by all his friends?
She had lived so long with the belief that a gentleman who cheated at cards could never again raise up his head and that the shame would always be there.
Supposing, just supposing –
She thought that perhaps Clint had not fully understood what she had told him!
Picking up her case with one hand and managing with difficulty to carry both hat boxes in the other, she hurried down the stairs.
But when she was halfway down them, Barnes, who was waiting in the hall, saw her and with an expression of surprise came to help her.
“You should have called me, Miss Alita,” he said in a scolding voice, speaking with the familiarity of an old servant. “Are you going away?”
It was a question that Alita was asking herself and without replying she put down the case at Barnes’s feet and ran across the hall to the library.
Clint had just finished his letter and was propping it against the big silver inkstand that graced her uncle’s desk.
He rose as Alita entered and she ran across to him.
“Are you ready, my darling?” he enquired.
“There is – something I have to – ask you. There is – something I must say,” Alita said.
“What is worrying you?”
“It is just that I want to be – sure that you – understood what I told you. You do – realise that my father’s crime will – never be forgiven? That people will look – embarrassed or – shocked when they know who I – am?”
She paused breathlessly before she added,
“Supposing – because of that – you cease to – love me and you are – sorry that you asked me to be your wife?”
Clint smiled very tenderly before he replied,
“I have already told you that I come from a family that has done all sorts of things that would make the supercilious English raise their eyebrows and look down their noses. Personally, I could not care a damn!”
As he spoke, he saw the anxiety vanish from Alita’s eyes and then he said,
“When I cease to love you, as you suggest I might do, we will worry about it together. But I don’t mind taking an odds on bet that it is something that will never happen.”
“How can you be – sure?”
“Because I love you,” he answered. “I love you as I have never been in love before.”
The radiance in her face was almost blinding and then he said,
“I have told you to let the future take care of itself or rather I will take care of it for you. But one thing is very sure, if the English don’t want us, there are lots of other places that will.”
He waited with his eyes on her and said,
“There is Ireland for one and France for another. I have always rather fancied the idea of boar hun
ting and, if we want magnificent horses to ride, what could be more interesting than a trip to Hungary?”
“Oh, Clint!”
Alita could hardly breathe the words and anything she was about to say he swept from her lips with his own, before he said,
“I have a number of other suggestions I could make, but let’s go. I have a feeling that in a short time you will be hungry. What did you have for breakfast?”
She gave a little murmur that was half a laugh, for it was so like Clint to talk about something so mundane as breakfast when his kisses had made her feel that she was disembodied and would never want food again.
He smiled as if he knew the answer.
Then, taking her by the hand, he led her out of the library and into the hall where old Barnes was standing with the case and the hat boxes.
“Will you be wanting these with you, Miss Alita?” he enquired. “You didn’t tell me if you were going away.”
“Yes, I am going away,” Alita answered. “Will you tell His Grace that there is a letter for him on the desk in the library?”
She held out her hand.
“Goodbye, Barnes.”
The old butler looked surprised, but he shook Alita’s hand.
“Goodbye, miss, and good luck, wherever you’re going.”
“Thank you,” Alita said and smiled at him.
She walked to the front door and saw outside a chaise drawn by a team of four superlative horses. Although she had seen them in the stables, she had never before seen them between the shafts.
She would have liked to stop and pat them, but she knew that Clint was eager to leave.
She stepped into the chaise and the groom who was holding the horses’ heads released them as he picked up the reins.
The groom helped Barnes put Alita’s cases in behind and then they were off, Clint driving with a skill that was comparable to the way he rode.
“Are we going in your private train?” Alita asked when they were halfway down the drive.
She looked back as she spoke. She had never believed that she would ever escape from The Castle and that she would not be incarcerated within its grey stone walls for the rest of her life.
“It is not my own,” Clint answered, “although I have one in America. I have borrowed the one we are using now from a friend, the Earl of Derby. I think you will find it quite comfortable.”
The Race For Love Page 14