Theirs to Eternity

by Barbara Cartland

“The old woman is Martha, Lady Felk’s maid. She it was who delivered Lady Felk’s baby, in secret, after her husband and lover were dead.

  “The deaths had sorely unhinged Lady Felk’s mind. She was convinced that her late husband’s family would kill her baby if they discovered him. So she instructed Martha to take the child to live in the woods.”

  Jess continued, “Martha kept him there for nigh on three years and a lonely three years it was, for once her – mistress was drowned – and what a shock that was to Martha – nobody knew that she and the child were there.

  “Imagine those winters,” shuddered Jess, “with the candles guttering and the wind howling down the chimneys like a pack of wolves. And all the time Martha was grieving for her dead mistress, whom she had loved dearly.

  “Every week she put fresh flowers on her grave, long after everyone else had forgotten the grave was there. I reckon Martha’s own mind started to go then,” said Jess, “for by all accounts it’s like a sheet flapping in the wind now.

  “Martha poached game and foraged for fruit and nuts, but life in the woods was hard. She felt the boy ought to be brought up at a big house, like the one his mother had lived in, and he should have leather shoes and a cape to wear in the bad weather.

  “So one day she abandoned him in the grounds of Lark House. She’d heard that the master there was a kind man. And so it proved, for he found a home for the boy, though it wasn’t in the big house at all.

  “Martha used to lurk about the Lark House estate to see how the boy progressed, but she never approached him nor allowed herself to be discovered. She too believed that the Felk family would wish to harm him, even though there was only a decrepit old cousin alive, who wouldn’t have the strength to lift a tuning fork, let alone any kind of weapon! She believed the boy was safe if only she knew he was the son of Lady Felk and if only she knew his father was a gypsy!”

  “A gypsy!” gulped Davina.

  “So it seems,” said Jess.

  She continued her tale.

  “One day, Jed turned up at the cottage in the woods. It so happened that he’d followed Lord Delverton there – curious to discover the identity of the ‘woodsman’s daughter’ – but old Martha didn’t know that.

  “She thought he had remembered her and come looking for her, so she let him see that she recognised him. She called him ‘pretty boy’, ‘Lady Evie’s pretty boy’. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together.

  “Maybe he wasn’t so surprised. Maybe he often used to wonder if there wasn’t a connection between the illegitimate child of Lady Felk and the child found wandering the grounds of Lark House. It was only those missing three years and the fact that it was a toddler who was discovered and not a baby, that made a connection seem unlikely.

  “He always did act as if he was a cut above the rest of us,” concluded Jess with a sniff.

  Davina sat back in wonder at all she had heard. It was clear that once Jed discovered who he was, he was determined to do anything to acquire what he believed was his. In his tortured mind he even imagined himself marrying the heiress of Priory Park, herself!

  She was lucky to have escaped him that afternoon in the woods. Yet she could not help but pity him. His had been a terrible end, with perhaps only one person amid the crowd of witnesses to truly grieve for him.

  “What will happen to Martha?” she mused.

  “She’s been taken to Lalham Convent to be looked after by the nuns. She didn’t want to return to the woods, now that Jed won’t be there for her to keep an eye on.”

  Davina shook her head. “Poor Jed,” she sighed.

  “Don’t you go feeling sorry for him, miss!” snorted Jess. “His rooms were searched last night by the men sent out after him. They found a lot of stolen articles. Jed was the leader of the very brigands who attacked Lord Delverton!”

  Davina reeled in astonishment. “But why would he want to kill Lord Delverton?”

  “He was jealous when Lord Delverton returned from Africa to take over the running of the estate. Up to then he was cock of the walk, for he always had great influence over Master Howard. He got a lot of money out of Master Howard. No, Jed Barker was always a bad lot, miss. Must have been his gypsy blood.”

  Davina looked sternly at her. “You mustn’t say that, Jess. Please remember it was a gypsy who saved me last night!”

  “Yes, and we’re all grateful, but who knows what her motivation was? Me, I wouldn’t trust a woman like that. If you ask me, she was hand in glove with Jed. She admitted that he often used to visit her tribe when they camped at Ledger’s fields.

  “I reckon she was in on the robberies and when she saw the way things were going with Jed last night, she decided she’d better throw in her lot with you and your father. Your father’s rich, so she could be pretty sure of a reward for saving you. No one would suspect her. They’ll be all over her, the men, just as they were last night. All of them.”

  “A-all?” repeated Davina, her mind in turmoil.

  “All, miss,” said Jess firmly. “Especially Lord Delverton. After he handed us into the carriage, he went straight back to her to see how she was. No, I wouldn’t trust that Esmé one inch.”

  ‘Esmé, Esmé,’ thought Davina in silent despair. ‘All trails seemed in the end to lead to the beautiful, fearless gypsy. She hadn’t fainted like Davina when Jed fell screaming to his death! Yet Jess was surely right, Esmé was nothing more than a common thief! That ruby ring on her finger was part of the spoils from the robberies. It was given to her by Jed, not Lord Delverton!’

  This last idea brought no comfort to Davina. It was clear from what Jess had just told her that Lord Delverton was deeply involved with the gypsy.

  Her beauty turned all men’s heads. She would turn her own father’s head! He would reward Esmé with money or jewellery, and then she would disappear, laughing at everyone over her shoulder. None of the men would notice the ruby ring on her finger, for they would be too busy staring at her face! That was if Esmé had not removed the ring before ever appearing at Priory Park!

  She had to warn her father – Lord Delverton – Howard. She had to warn them that Esmé was not what she seemed.

  That this view might diminish their regard for the gypsy was no small part of Davina’s decision.

  Jess started as Davina began to struggle from her bed.

  “Where are you going to, miss? You should rest after all the drama of yesterday. I was about to bring up your breakfast.”

  “I don’t want any breakfast!” said Davina, feeling about the floor with her feet. “I am going home for breakfast. Jess, where are my slippers?”

  “At Priory Park, miss,” replied Jess. “At least – at least – ”

  She could not continue. Davina instantly understood. Her slippers were not at Priory Park. They weren’t anywhere. They were burned, along with all her clothes and books and hats and shoes and paintings.

  And when she thought of paintings, one in particular rose in Davina’s mind. The portrait of Evelyn Felk, Jed’s mother, destroyed in the very same flames that had devoured her son!

  CHAPTER TEN

  As Davina rode out through the gates of Lark House, she anxiously scanned the black clouds on the horizon. They hung heavy and inert, but she decided that she could reach Priory Park long before the portended storm broke.

  A mile or so along the road a young man hailed her and asked whether Lord Delverton was at home, for he had a letter to deliver to him. Davina hesitated and then replied that he was not at home but at Priory Park. Since that was her own destination, she added, she would be happy to take him the letter. The young man handed it over and Davina continued on her way.

  Her heart sank as Priory Park hove into view.

  The east wing was a blackened ruin. Charred timber and rubble was all that remained. An acrid smell hung in the air.

  She found her father in the library, with Charles. They did not at first notice her, as they were in deep conversation by the fire. She was shoc
ked at the sight of their drawn, ashen features.

  “Papa!” she cried.

  Her father leapt to his feet and swept her up into a tight embrace.

  Behind him, Charles rose slowly from his chair.

  “I am glad to see you, my dearest daughter!”

  murmured her father. “But you should not have come until you were sent for.”

  “I know, Papa. But I had to come. Really I did.” Her hand strayed to her bonnet and began to twist its strings through her fingers. “Th-there is something I must tell you. But Howard should hear it too. Wh-where is he, Papa?”

  Lord Shelford and Charles glanced at each other.

  “I am not sure, my dear.” He took his daughter’s elbow and guided her to a sofa. “I shall order you some tea and then I advise you to return immediately to Lark House.”

  “Not until I have said what I came to say, Papa!” Davina took a deep breath and then plunged bravely on. “It – it’s about Esmé. I believe you are gravely deceived as to her – true character.”

  “What exactly have you heard, Davina?” he asked gently.

  “Heard? Nothing, Papa. It’s just that – I have become convinced that she is nothing more than a thief. A thief who was involved with Jed and – his plot to murder Lord Delverton.”

  Charles’s brow darkened. “What is this?” he questioned.

  Davina twisted at her bonnet strings. “Did you not see the ring she wears? Such a ring as she could never have procured, but by – nefarious means!”

  With an exclamation that denoted utter disdain for this suggestion, Charles turned and walked to the window.

  “You don’t believe me!” cried Davina, looking from Charles to her father in despair. “Then ask her yourself, Papa, how she came to possess such a valuable jewel. Summon her here and ask her yourself!”

  Lord Shelford wiped his brow. “We cannot summon Esmé, my dear. She has disappeared.”

  Davina rose to her feet in dismay. “Disappeared? Without a reward? No, Papa! She has helped herself to more than she thought you would give her, of that I am certain. Have you counted the – the forks and the spoons and the snuffboxes and – and Regine’s pearls and Mr Crouch’s hatpins? Have you?”

  “Hush, Davina, hush,” he urged. “You are becoming hysterical.”

  “Papa, I am not. I just can’t believe – refuse to believe – that Esmé left our house with nothing!”

  “She did not leave with – nothing,” replied Lord Shelford miserably.

  “Then what did she leave with, Papa?”

  He cast a desperate look towards Charles who detached himself from the window and walked forward. His tone was grave.

  “Madam, Esmé left with neither silver nor gold, pearls nor hatpins. What she did leave with was your fiancé. She left with my dishonourable brother, Howard.”

  Davina stepped back, her eyes on his. “H-Howard?”

  “The cad has bolted!” Lord Shelford broke out, unable to restrain his feelings. Davina stared. “I-I see. He has gone. With her. see.”

  That Charles was, in a sense, as bereft as she, was of no consolation to Davina. She felt nothing but utter humiliation that he should be privy to her abandonment. She began to back towards the door.

  “Davina, Davina!” Her father stretched out his hand to her. “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know. Home. Oh. I am home. Somewhere. I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW!”

  With that last, despairing crescendo, Davina turned and fled from the room and the expressionless gaze of Charles, Lord Delverton.

  *

  Evelyn Felk’s tombstone was cold. The lichen that covered it was moist against Davina’s cheek as she lay there sobbing.

  Nobody loved her, nobody. From being the belle of London society she had become the discarded fiancée. She had never loved Howard, but she had supposed that he loved her. Now she had lost everything.

  Sobs shook her body. Her fingers clutched at the lichen. Her hair, loosened from her bonnet, spread over the grey stone like a mantle of gold. She wished she was as still and cold as Evelyn Felk!

  Black clouds rolled in overhead. The sky churned above the trees. Rain began falling, in shards of ice. Davina made no attempt to shelter.

  Soon she was barely conscious, her dress soaked, her body thrashed mercilessly by the hail.

  She made no sound as, some time later, a cloak was thrown about her and she was lifted into strong, determined arms.

  Her eyelids fluttered open for a moment as she was placed gently onto the back of a horse. She was dimly aware of someone mounting the saddle behind her.

  With a moan she fell back against a strong and silent breast. The motion of the horse, urged into a steady walk through the drenched woods, lulled her into a deep, untroubled sleep.

  She did not waken until she was lifted from the horse. She heard a door kicked open and glimpsed the edge of a thatched eave as she was carried across a threshold. In a daze she lifted her head. There was a red pitcher on a table, painted candlesticks on a mantel, and a shawl thrown in disarray across a chair!

  Esmé’s cottage! It must be Howard who had carried her here!

  Incensed, Davina began to flail in her abductor’s arms, beating her fists on his shoulder.

  “Let – me – go. How dare you bring me here, Howard! Let – me – go.”

  “Madam, be still!” urged a stern voice.

  Deposited unceremoniously onto a bed, Davina found herself staring up into the stony features of – Charles! There was a sardonic twist to his lips at her astonishment.

  “I am – sorry to disappoint you, madam, but as you see, it is not Howard you have to thank for bringing you here, but I. Your humble servant, Charles Delverton.”

  Davina struggled upright, her breast heaving.

  “W-would Lord Delverton care to inform me why he has brought me here? He must know that this is the last place on earth I would wish to be. And he should know that he is the last person on earth I would wish as company.”

  Charles looked strangely tired as he replied. “I had surmised that, madam.”

  He crossed to where a shift and a worsted cloak hung on a hook and brought the two garments to the bed.

  “You must take off those wet clothes,” he suggested.

  Davina stiffened.

  “Since you consider yourself my captive, madam,” he said coolly, “you must perforce obey me. I command you to remove your clothes and robe yourself in these.”

  He dropped the shift and cloak into Davina’s lap and turned away. He knelt at the hearth and began to set a fire.

  Realising that she was indeed very wet and cold, Davina began to undo her bodice. As she did so, a sealed paper fluttered to the floor.

  The letter for Lord Delverton that had been entrusted to her by the boy, on the road to Priory Park! She had forgotten it completely! Whatever her personal feelings towards him, this was a lapse of good manners. She hoped the letter did not contain urgent information.

  “L-Lord Delverton.”

  “Madam?”

  “I neglected to give you this. It was handed to me this morning on my way home – ”

  He took the letter and turned it over in his hand.

  “After such a lapse of time!” he exclaimed.

  He might have opened the letter there and then had Davina not begun to shiver. He regarded her in alarm.

  “Let me find something to dry your hair.” Laying aside the letter he picked up the shawl, Esmé’s shawl, that hung in disarray over the chair!

  “Madam, if I may?”

  Davina looked up at him. In the firelight, his expression had softened.

  His eyes burned with an unmistakably tender concern. Almost with relief, she bent her head to his touch. She felt herself tremble as he gently began to dry her hair.

  Rain still pattered at the window. The logs began to crackle in the hearth. It seemed as if there were just the two of them in the whole, wide world.

  “W-will you tell me – w
hy you brought me here?” Davina asked dreamily.

  “I did not set out with that intention. I happened to stumble across you in the glade. I chose to continue on here without delay because I believed Howard and Esmé may have come here prior to leaving the area. I wished to – to confront them. But it seems they have already fled.”

  Davina’s heart, burgeoning with hope that he might in some way care for her after all, plummeted once more.

  “No doubt you – you desired them to separate,” she commented unhappily, certain that Charles wished Esmé to return to him.

  “I should have thought, madam,” he replied in surprise, “that you would have desired the same.”

  Davina was about to reply when he suddenly raised his finger to his lips. She shrank apprehensively into the shadows.

  There was a rustle outside and the door heaved open.

  Howard and Esmé, their clothes dripping, their arms full of bags and parcels, stood on the threshold.

  Seeing Charles, Howard scowled and threw down his load. A small portmanteau burst open, spilling its contents. A sword clattered from its scabbard.

  Howard stared defiantly at his brother.

  “I’m not going back, d’ye hear?” he cried. “I’ve thrown in my lot with Esmé and that’s the end of it.”

  In one swift move Charles recovered the sword from the floor and was holding its steel tip under Howard’s chin.

  “By God, that is not the end of it, brother!” he seethed. “You will explain your conduct to me or I’ll not answer for the consequences.”

  “S-steady on there, Charles,” muttered Howard nervously. “I don’t mind telling you – what’s been afoot – but put that sword away, do.”

  Charles lowered the weapon but did not put it away.

  “Come in and defend yourself, then, if you can,” he bellowed murderously.

  “I – went to collect some things from home first,” Howard explained, gesturing at the items scattered over the floor. “Nobody saw me. I crept in – threw everything out of the window to Esmé – and crept out again. Easy as eating meat pie.”

  Charles regarded him with distaste and motioned him to a chair.

  Esmé followed him. Her eyes, keener than Howard’s in the dim firelight, espied Davina, motionless in the corner.