“You must ask his Lordship,” Nana replied evasively. “All I know is that he wishes you to rest and then go downstairs to see him at six o’clock, wearin’ a new gown he specially ordered for you.”
“A new gown from – his Lordship!” Syringa exclaimed with a little lilt in her voice. “How kind of him. Did you bring all my others down from London?”
“They are all here,” Nana replied.
Syringa looked round the great room, so impressive with its embroidered curtains and carved gilt mirrors.
It was the most beautiful of all the State bedrooms at King’s Keep.
The great bed had a canopy surmounted by doves and the coral silk draperies were caught to the wall with gold angels.
“I suppose my clothes are in the bedroom I had before I went to London,” she said.
“That was where his Lordship took you when you first arrived,” Nana said. “Now it’s been disinfected. Everythin’, the curtains, the bed hangings, the linen were all burnt.”
“Burnt!” Syringa exclaimed.
“Gaol fever is very infectious, dearie. His Lordship was takin’ no chances. The interior of the coach we brought you here in was washed down with vinegar.”
“And nobody caught the fever from me?” Syringa asked anxiously.
“No one came near you,” Nanny replied. “Only his Lordship and I attended you.”
“His – Lordship?”
“He nursed you, Miss Syringa. We took it turn and turn about. His Lordship at night and I in the daytime.”
“I had no – idea,” Syringa said in a low voice.
Yet she thought that she must have known he was there even when she was delirious.
Someone had soothed her, someone had told her that she was safe and must go to sleep. She had thought it was all part of her frightening dreams.
Dreams when she believed that they were coming to hang her, when she was about to be whipped and the obscene creatures in the cells reached out their clutching hands towards her and she could not escape! She had been afraid – desperately afraid.
She could remember now a woman screaming – it must have been herself.
Then strong arms had held her, an authoritative voice had commanded her to forget her fears.
Feeling embarrassed at the thought of the Earl having seen her in such a state, she asked hesitantly,
“How did his Lordship – know what to – do? How could he know – anything – about nursing?”
“His Lordship said he had nursed people with fevers in India,” Nanny replied. “Very competent he was and only he could soothe you when you were in such a high fever that we thought you must die. Gaol fever is a terrible illness, my dearie. I hopes never to see it again in the whole of my life.”
“Do I – look ugly?” Syringa asked.
Her eyes were so anxious that Nanny fetched her a hand mirror from the dressing table and Syringa stared at her own reflection.
She was thinner, so that her eyes seemed to fill her whole face, but her hair was still curling luxuriantly back from her white forehead and her skin was unblemished.
‘Perhaps he will notice no difference in me,’ she thought to herself.
Because she wanted so desperately to look nice for the Earl, she made no protest as Nanny drew the curtains but lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes.
It was a hot day and she needed only a linen sheet to cover her.
But it was not like the blistering heat she had endured with the fever when at times she had felt that she must be burning in the fires of Hell.
What did the Earl think of her, she wondered, as she had screamed and cried. Had he only a contempt for her because she was a coward?
She hoped that she had not said too much while she was unconscious. How humiliating it would be if she had revealed her love for him!
She winced but she was fearful too of broaching the question she longed to ask him. What should she say if he questioned her to find out who had been responsible for her arrest.
It must have been Lady Elaine and Ninian Roth who had instructed and paid the actors to give false evidence against her and who had used her signature on the contrived will.
But how could she tell the Earl such things without any positive proof? How could she accuse his cousin and the woman he loved of such perfidy?
There were so many problems ahead.
While every nerve in her body longed to see him, her mind shrank from the inevitability of what must be said if they discussed what had happened.
Yet when Nana called her at five o’clock, brought her a bath scented with rose petals, and started to dress her in her gown, Syringa felt an irrepressible excitement that overrode her fears.
The gown was of white gauze and with an undertone of silver in the full skirts, which made it shimmer like moonlight as she moved.
There was soft tulle to frame the whiteness of her neck and cover her shoulders.
Again there was that shimmer of silver, which made Syringa look as though she was a sprite arising from one of the iridescent fountains playing in the garden.
“It is a lovely gown, Nana!” she exclaimed.
“It really needs a brooch in the front of it,” Nanny replied.
Syringa felt her heart miss a beat as she remembered that she must tell the Earl what had happened to the brooch he had lent her – the brooch that had belonged to his mother and which she had sold in Newgate Prison.
Nanny had brushed Syringa’s hair until it seemed to have new lights in it, lights that echoed the silver in her gown.
Then she brought from a side table a little wreath of wild flowers.
There were daisies, periwinkles, wild rosebuds and honeysuckle all entwined together, their fragrance very subtle and sweet.
“How pretty!” Syringa cried.
“His Lordship sent it for you,” Nanny replied. “I can’t think why he should worry with wild flowers when the greenhouses are full.”
Syringa said nothing.
She felt that the wreath had a special message for her and yet she was afraid to guess at it, afraid to put it into words even to herself.
Ready, she rose to her feet and looked at herself in the long mirror.
“You are very beautiful, my dearie!” Nanny said.
Syringa heard a sob in her voice and saw the tears in her eyes.
“I am well, that is more important than anything else, Nana,” she smiled, “and I must thank you for it.”
“And his Lordship! Don’t forget to thank his Lordship!”
“I will thank him.”
Syringa reached the door and looked back.
“You are not unhappy, Nana?” she asked.
“No, I am happy, Miss Syringa. Happy for you! Good luck, my baby.”
Syringa looked a little surprised and then she supposed that her illness had made Nanny over-emotional.
‘All the same,’ she thought to herself as she walked slowly down the staircase, ‘I need luck.’
She needed it because she was to see the Earl again and she prayed that he was no longer angry with her.
To her surprise the Great Hall was empty.
The front door was open, letting in the warm golden July sunshine, but there were no footmen in attendance, no Meadstone to lead her pompously towards the library where she knew instinctively that the Earl would be waiting for her.
She crossed the hall slowly, feeling suddenly small and insignificant.
Her heelless slippers made little sound on the marble floor.
When she reached the library door, she hesitated for a moment.
She wanted to see the Earl, she wanted so much to be with him, but she knew that it was going to be hard not to reveal her gladness and her love for him.
Things must now be different between them, she thought.
She had loved him before it was true, but without realising it. What was love she had believed to be friendship.
Now the truth made her inexplicably shy and yet overw
helmingly excited.
She turned the handle of the door and entered.
The room was bathed in the afternoon sunshine and fragrant with the scent of the roses arrayed in great bowls on nearly every table.
The Earl was standing looking out of the window.
As she entered, he turned towards her and she saw him against a background of glory.
She had forgotten, she thought, how tall, broad-shouldered and overwhelming he was.
Because her heart, turning a somersault, was beating violently in her breast, she found herself unable to speak, unable to move.
“Syringa!”
His voice was very deep and there seemed to be a note in it that she had not heard before.
He walked towards her and with an almost superhuman effort she forced herself not to run to his side, but to move slowly and deliberately.
“You are well?”
She looked up at him and, at the expression on his face, her eyelashes fluttered to lie dark against the pallor of her cheeks.
“Come and sit in the window,” he suggested.
Obediently she walked towards the wide satin-cushioned window seat.
The casements were open and the sunshine was warm against her pale cheeks and on her bent head.
“There is so much we have to say to each other, Syringa,” the Earl said quietly.
He had seated himself beside her, but somehow she dared not look up at him.
“I have to – thank your Lordship – for nursing me,” Syringa began in a low voice. “I am distressed – that I was such a trouble to you.”
“You were certainly the cause of much anxiety,” the Earl replied.
“I am – sorry.”
“There is no need.”
“But you should have been in London with the – Prince of Wales and your – friends.”
“Do you think they were important when I was indirectly responsible for your illness?”
There was something in the Earl’s tone that made Syringa feel that it was hard to breathe.
“How did – you – find me?” she managed to ask in a tight little voice.
“When your Nanny told me that Lady Elaine had taken you downstairs and put you into a coach, I went straight to her house,” he replied. “She was not there and her butler had no idea where she might be.”
He paused as if vividly remembering his frustration.
“I then repaired to Ninian’s lodgings. To my surprise, although it was only a little after eight o’clock, he had already left. His manservant disclaimed any knowledge of what his destination might be, but after some encouragement he suggested that his Master might be with his theatrical friends.”
Syringa raised her head a little.
“After further questioning,” the Earl went on, “I ascertained that during the past week Ninian had on several occasions entertained two actors at his lodgings. The manservant, from scraps of conversation he had overheard, thought that they were rehearsing a play in which a Court Room was involved.”
The Earl’s voice was harsh as he continued,
“My suspicions were already aroused because your Nanny had told me of a paper that Ninian and Lady Elaine had persuaded you to sign. When I found in my cousin’s desk some rough copies of a Will, I left immediately for the Old Bailey.”
“So that is how – you found out what had – happened.”
Syringa hardly seemed to breathe the words.
“When I reached the Courts, I learnt that the case was over,” the Earl said, “and you had already been taken back to Newgate.”
Syringa made a convulsive gesture as if his words brought back the horror and misery of hearing herself sentenced.
“Don’t let us speak of it anymore,” the Earl said quickly. “It is over and you are safe. There are more important matters to discuss.”
His voice altered.
“First of all, I want to apologise. To tell you that I am most sincerely repentant and to beg your forgiveness.”
She knew of what he spoke. It was no use pretending that she did not understand.
“How – how could you think such – things of – me?”
“I have asked myself that a thousand times,” he replied. “I was crazy to imagine for one moment that you were not what you appeared to be.”
“Nana told you that we went to the stables to see Mercury?”
“She told me,” the Earl replied. “The groom has been dismissed, but, Syringa, I blame myself for not taking better care of my own horses.”
“Mercury is – all right?”
“He is here waiting for you to see him.”
“I hoped that you would have brought him – to King’s Keep from London as you – have brought me.”
“I thought that both you and Mercury would do better in the country,” the Earl said. “He has been exercised every day, but it is not the same as having his Mistress on his back.”
“Perhaps I could ride him – tomorrow.”
“Of course, if you wish to.”
Syringa’s eyes were still downcast.
“There is – something I wish to – say to your Lordship,” she said after a moment.
“I am listening,” the Earl answered quietly.
“You may think it very – stupid of me,” Syringa faltered, “but I could not go – back to – London.”
There was a moment’s pause and Syringa held her breath in case he should be angry.
“I can understand why you are feeling like that,” he said, “and I promise that you shall not go back to London until you wish to do so. But there is no need for you to feel afraid.”
“Why?” she enquired.
“Because,” the Earl answered, “my cousin Ninian and Lady Elaine are no longer in London. They have left the country.”
There was steel in his voice and the words sounded harsh and formidable.
“Why – have they gone?” Syringa asked nervously.
“I gave them the choice,” the Earl replied, “of leaving the country for the rest of their lives or standing trial. Knowing only too well the penalty for an attempt at swindling, they not unnaturally chose to go abroad.”
“I was – afraid,” Syringa said hesitatingly, “that it would – upset you to know what – Lady Elaine had – done.”
“What upset me was that cruelly and criminally she had made you suffer. That is something that I will never forgive.”
There was a ruthlessness in his tone that made Syringa clasp her fingers together.
“My feelings for Lady Elaine need not concern us,” the Earl said. “In effect she no longer exists. Had you anything else to ask me?”
“If I need not go back – to London,” Syringa began hesitatingly, “I wonder whether your Lordship would permit – Nana and me to – live in a – small cottage here on the – estate?”
She looked up at him anxiously as she spoke, hoping he would not think she was imposing on his generosity.
“And do you think that you would be content in a small cottage?” he asked, his eyes watching her face.
“Perhaps I c-could – see y-you – s-sometimes,” Syringa stammered.
“And would that be enough,” the Earl asked, “for you or for me?”
She did not understand what he was saying and, because the tone of his voice made her feel suddenly very shy, she said quickly,
“There is – something else I have to – say to you, my Lord, something that I should have said – at once.”
“And what is that?” he asked.
“You have apologised to me,” she said, “but it is for – me to apologise to – you most – humbly and – abjectly. I want to ask you – forgiveness and yet I don’t – know how to do so.”
“For what?” the Earl enquired.
“For – selling the brooch that you – lent me,” Syringa replied miserably. “I have thought about it – ever since I have been – here and I am so – utterly and completely – ashamed that I was so – dishonest and so – cow
ardly. But I could not face – those women. They were like – animals and, when they put out their – hands towards – me, I thought that if they – touched me, I should go – mad.”
Her voice broke.
Then the Earl’s hands were on hers as she twisted her fingers together on her lap.
She felt the warm strength of them and found herself quivering at his touch.
“You are not to talk about it,” he said. “You are to forget what you have suffered. It is over, Syringa. It is an experience through which you should never have passed and I have cursed those who inflicted it upon you. But now you are to erase it from your mind. Do you understand?”
“I will – try,” Syringa said humbly, “if you will – forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” the Earl answered.
“You do not – despise – me?”
He could hardly hear the words.
“I admire you for your courage, Syringa, and I think that you are braver than any other woman I have ever known.”
Syringa drew in her breath and her eyes went to the Earl’s face as if she could hardly believe what he had just said.
He looked down at her and she felt something quiver and come alive within her heart.
“I was – not really – brave,” she said. “I was – terrified – and I could only pray – for you.”
“For me?”
“To save – me – I thought that God – would send – you.”
“He did send me.”
“If you – had not come – in time – ”
“Forget it!” the Earl’s voice was sharp. “You are here, safe, and we are together.”
“To – gether!” Syringa hardly breathed the word.
“I have something to show you.”
As the Earl spoke, he rose, drew Syringa to her feet and, holding her hand in his, led her across the room to his desk.
She wondered what he wanted her to see and then saw, lying on the crimson velvet blotter emblazoned with the Roth Coat-of-Arms, something that glittered in the sunshine.
It was the turquoise brooch.
Syringa gave a cry of sheer delight.
“You have it back! Oh, I am so glad! So very glad! It has worried me – desperately that you should have lost something so precious to you.”
“I bought it back for you,” the Earl said simply.
The Ruthless Rake Page 19