“You will come back after the sale?”
“I have no wish to make the journey back to London late in the evening if I am not able to bid early in the day for the horses I want.”
“I will be very eager to hear all about your purchases.”
“I might even bring them back with me,” the Marquis said. “Two of my grooms are meeting me at the sale.”
“That would be even more exciting!” Davita exclaimed.
The Marquis smiled a little mockingly.
“I am not certain that is really a compliment.”
For the moment she did not understand what he meant. Then she realised that she had implied that his horses were more interesting than he was.
A little shyly, because she was uncertain how he would take the question, she asked:
“Do you ... like being ... flattered?”
“Only if it is sincere,” the Marquis answered. “Then of course I appreciate it.”
“I should have thought it would not matter to you what anyone thought about you.”
“Why should you think that?”
“I suppose it is because you seem so important ... so authoritative and ...”
Davita stopped, afraid that what she was about to say was rude.
The Marquis did not leave that unchallenged.
“And what?” he enquired.
“I have ... forgotten what I was going to ... say.”
“That is not true!” he said. “And I would like you to finish the sentence.”
As if once again he compelled her, Davita said shyly: “When I saw you that first night at ... Romano’s I thought that you seemed cynical and a little ... contemptuous of everything that was going on round you. Was I right?”
The Marquis looked at her in surprise.
“In a sense,” he answered. “But I did not realise it was so obvious.”
“Perhaps it would not have been to everyone, but you must not forget that the Scots are fey.”
The Marquis laughed.
“So you were aware I was feeling at odds with the world—that particular world in which we met.”
As she thought he was referring to Rosie, Davita merely nodded her head.
The Marquis seemed to hesitate. Then he said:
“It is not something I should discuss ordinarily with someone of your age, but because you were at Romano’s that night and were indirectly involved in a scene that should never have taken place, I will tell you the background of the story.”
There was a hard note in his voice, and Davita said quickly:
“There is no ... reason for you to do so. It is not for me to ... criticise, but you did ... ask me what I ... felt.”
“What you felt was perhaps what no-one else would. So I intend to explain to you why I was in such an unpleasant mood.”
As he paused for a moment, Davita thought it was a very strange conversation for her to be having with the Marquis. But then the whole evening, she realised, was strange.
They were alone, for one thing, sitting at a candle-lit table in the huge Dining-Room, hung with paintings of the Sherburn ancestors. They were isolated on a little island of light as if they had embarked together on an unknown sea into an unknown future.
It flashed through her mind that that was indeed just what they were doing!
Then she told herself she was being ridiculously imaginative and she must listen attentively to what the Marquis was saying.
“Because you have been impelled into a world of which most girls of your age and breeding have no knowledge whatsoever,” he began, “you were doubtless unaware, even before Lord Mundesley made his objectionable proposal to you, that men as a rule do not marry actresses but enjoy them as companions in a very different manner.”
Davita understood that he meant gentlemen took them as mistresses.
She could not help thinking it would have been far better if that was what her father had done rather than marry Katie, who had run away to be the mistress of Harry.
“I thought Rosie very beautiful,” the Marquis was saying, “which indeed she is. It was only after she accepted my protection, as it is usually called, that I discovered that she was incapable of being faithful to her protector, even though it is an unwritten law that that is what is expected of a woman in such circumstances.”
He spoke in such an impersonal manner that Davita did not feel embarrassed. She was only interested as he went on:
“I found it impossible to continue providing a house for a woman who entertained in my absence a series of ne’er-do-wells who drank my wine and smoked my cigars, and as they did so felt that they were having the laugh of me.”
He paused before he continued:
“That is the whole story in a nutshell. Rosie broke the rules of the game, and I brought the game to an end.”
“You do not really ... think she would have ... killed herself?” Davita asked almost in a whisper.
The Marquis shook his head.
“It is a trick women of her class use very frequently both here and in Paris, to get their own way.”
He saw the question in Davita’s eyes and added:
“If you feel at all worried about Rosie’s future, I learnt before I left London that she was already very comfortably settled in another house—this time in Regent’s Park—which belongs to a member of the House of Lords who is frequently away from London for long intervals.”
The Marquis did not give Davita a chance to say anything and merely said quietly:
“Now that I have explained that, the whole subject is a closed chapter. We will neither of us refer to it again.”
Davita gave a little sigh.
“I am glad you told me.”
“I only wish I did not have to do so,” the Marquis said. “Do you remember my advice that night?”
“That I should go back to Scotland?” Davita asked. “What you were really saying is that I should not have come South in the first place.”
She glanced at the Marquis a little uncertainly as she said:
“Even after all the ... awful things that ... happened ... I am glad I did. If I had not, I should never have come to Sherburn House and would not be ... sitting here with ... you at this ... moment.”
“You are glad you are?” the Marquis enquired.
“But of course I am very glad. It is very exciting for me,” Davita answered.
Then as her eyes met his, perhaps it was a trick of the candlelight, but she found it hard to look away.
The next day the Marquis left early to go to the sale. He sent a message to his Great-Aunt to say he was looking forward to seeing her that evening, and he hoped she had passed a restful night as he had.
Davita was with the Countess when the message was brought to her, and she laughed.
“I am sure it is a most unusual occurrence for my great-nephew to spend a restful night,” she said. “From all I hear, if he is not escorting some beautiful actress from the Gaiety Theatre, he is dancing attendance on one of the beauties who surround the Prince of Wales at Marlborough House.”
She spoke with a note of satisfaction in her voice, which made Davita feel she was proud that the Marquis could prove himself to be what Violet and Katie had called a “dasher.”
This she had learnt was the highest grade a young man about town could reach.
“Then he must have been very bored with me last night,” Davita told herself with a sigh.
Nevertheless, the Marquis had not appeared bored. They had sat talking for a long time over dinner and then had gone on talking when they retired to the Blue Drawing-Room.
To her surprise, he had been as easy to talk to on any number of subjects as her father had been before he had married Katie and started drinking.
Davita had gone to bed thinking over what they had said, and had planned what she would say as a challenge when she had the chance to talk with him another evening.
“Even if he was bored,” she told herself, “he is coming back tonight,
and even if I never see him again, I shall have quite a lot to remember.”
It was a warm day, and she went riding for an hour in the morning, while the Countess was having massage on her legs from an experienced masseur who came from Oxford to treat her.
Wearing her smart new habit, Davita could not help wishing that the Marquis could see her and they could ride together.
Then she told herself that wishing things was just a waste of time, and he would doubtless think her a very poor horsewoman beside those he rode with in Rotten Row or in his estate in Hertfordshire.
The Countess had told her how fine it was.
“You would certainly approve of my great-nephew’s house. It was restored in the middle of the Eighteenth Century and a great part of it is much older than that.”
“I know I would not love it as much as I love this house,” Davita had replied loyally.
“Nevertheless, get him to tell you about it,” the Countess said. “He is very proud of his ancestry. I have told him for years that it is time he was married and had a family.”
Davita was surprised at the strange feeling the Countess’s words gave her. It was almost like a physical pain.
Then she thought wistfully how fortunate the Marquis’s wife would be, not because she would have a fine house and a grand estate but because she would be able to talk to him and learn from him so much that was interesting.
‘If only he would stay here a week,’ she thought wistfully. ‘I would be very much wiser and better informed by the time he left.’
She assumed that tomorrow, perhaps early in the morning, he would go back to London and, though she tried not to put it into words, the house would seem empty without him.
There was still tonight, and she wished she had another dress to wear.
‘Not that he would notice me if I were dressed up like the Queen of Sheba,’ she thought mockingly.
The hours of the day seemed to pass slowly, and when the Countess went to rest, Davita went out into the sunshine.
Instead of going down to the lake as she always did, she went to the stables.
“Have you room for the horses His Lordship may bring back with him from the sale?” she asked Yates, the Head Groom.
“There’s places for a dozen more ’orses, Miss,” he replied. “But I don’t think ’is Lordship’ll bring more than two or three.”
“I am sure they will be very fine animals,” Davita remarked.
“They will,” Yates agreed. “ ’Is Lordship be a first-class judge of ’orseflesh.”
Davita fed the horses as she always did with carrots and apples, and made a fuss of each one.
Then she walked from the stables into the courtyard outside the front door, and down the first part of the drive towards the bridge which spanned the lake.
She stood for a long time, leaning on the greystone to look into the water below and watch the fish flashing over the gravel bottom.
She walked under the shadow of the great oak trees, a little way up the drive, and although she would not admit it to herself, she half-hoped she might meet the Marquis returning from the sale.
She was almost halfway to the lodges when she saw a carriage turn in at them. Her heart leapt; the Marquis was returning, and far sooner than she had expected.
She stood still, watching the horses approach, but as they drew near she was aware that it was not the open curricle that was coming towards her which the Marquis had been driving when he had left that morning.
Instead it was a closed brougham, and she thought with a feeling of disappointment that it must be someone coming to call on the Countess.
Quickly, because the horses were drawing near, she turned and walked away from the drive into the Park.
She heard the horses pass, and deliberately did not look round but went on walking to where she could see a cluster of spotted deer in the shade of one of the larger trees.
She was wondering how near she could get to them without their being afraid, when her instinct, or perhaps her sixth sense, made her aware that someone was behind her.
She had heard no sound because of the thick grass. She turned round apprehensively, then was frozen to the spot on which she was standing.
Striding towards her, florid and flamboyant, was Lord Mundesley!
CHAPTER SEVEN
DAVITA WAS FROZEN into immobility as she stared at Lord Mundesley, thinking he could not be real.
But there was no mistaking his swaggering walk, his top-hat set at a jaunty angle, and the carnation in his button-hole.
Only when he reached her side did she think of running away, but then it was too late.
“So here you are!” he said in a tone of satisfaction. “It has taken me a long time to find you; but now I am successful, as I always am.”
“What do you want ... what are you ... doing?” Davita managed to say, feeling almost as if she had choked on the words.
“I want you,” Lord Mundesley replied, “as I always have. If you thought I had forgotten what you look like, you are very much mistaken.”
“Leave me ... alone!” Davita cried. “You have no ... right here. I have no wish to see ... you or Violet ever ... again.”
Lord Mundesley smiled unpleasantly, and his eyes, looking at her in a way that always made her feel shy, were now somehow menacing.
Then as if her face, which was very pale, her red hair, and her green eyes moved him irresistibly, there was a note of passion in his voice as he said:
“I want you, Davita! I have wanted you since I first saw you, and I mean to have you!”
She gave a little startled cry, and he went on:
“You do not suppose the Countess of Sherburn, who is a very respectable old lady, would keep you as her Companion if I tell her of your behaviour in London or that you are very closely connected with the Gaiety.”
“You are ... blackmailing ... me!”
She meant to speak angrily and accusingly because Lord Mundesley frightened her as he always had, but her voice sounded weak, and he could see that she was trembling.
“I have spent a lot of money on detectives who have finally tracked you down,” he said. “Now that I have found you, I suggest you behave like a sensible girl and come back with me to London. I will look after you as I always intended to do.”
Now Davita gave a small scream, like an animal that had been trapped, and turned to run away. It was too late!
Lord Mundesley reached out, caught hold of her wrists when she was in the very act of moving, and as she struggled to be free, he pulled her relentlessly into his arms.
“Let me go ... let me go!” she cried.
She knew even as she fought against him that her resistance excited him, and he was also very strong.
“I will teach you to obey me,” he said, “and to love me.”
“I hate you ... I hate you!” she tried to say.
But the words were strangled in her throat, because she was aware that his face was very near to hers and he was about to kiss her.
It was then that she screamed again, fighting with every ounce of her strength, but knowing it must be ineffective.
Suddenly a furious voice shouted:
“What the devil do you think you are doing!”
Then she knew that at the very last moment—the eleventh hour—she was saved.
Lord Mundesley’s arms holding her slackened, and she managed to twist herself free of him. But because she was breathless and weak from fear, she stumbled and collapsed to the ground.
As she did so, she heard the Marquis say:
“It is time you were taught a lesson, Mundesley, and this time I will see that you have it.”
As he spoke he struck out at Lord Mundesley, who stepped backwards to protect himself, while his hat fell off his head.
As he put up his fists to defend himself, the Marquis struck him again. This time he staggered but did not fall.
“Damn you, Vange!” he exclaimed. “If you want to fight, do so, but in a g
entlemanly fashion—with pistols.”
“You are no gentleman,” the Marquis retorted. “And you do not behave like one.”
He advanced on Lord Mundesley again, who attempted to fend him off.
But the Marquis slipped under his guard, caught him on the point of the chin, and he crashed to the ground.
For a moment he was stunned, and then as he opened his eyes the Marquis standing over him said:
“Get out of here or I swear you will be carried out on a stretcher!”
Lord Mundesley let out a foul oath.
The Marquis continued:
“I am letting you off lightly because of your age, but if you ever approach Davita again I will thrash you within an inch of your life. Is that clear?”
Lord Mundesley swore again, but the Marquis did not wait to listen to it. He turned to Davita, who was still sitting on the ground with a stricken look in her eyes.
The Marquis pulled her to her feet, and as she swayed weakly against him, he picked her up in his arms and carried her back through the trees to the drive. She was trembling as he did so, but at the same time his arms were the most comforting thing she had ever known.
Drawn up behind Lord Mundesley’s brougham was the Marquis’s chaise.
He put Davita down gently in the seat, got in beside her, and, taking the reins from the groom who had been holding the horses, said:
“Walk home, Jim.”
“Very good, M’Lord.”
The Marquis drove his horses away down the drive without even glancing in the direction of where he had left Lord Mundesley.
As he approached the lake he did not cross the bridge which led to the house, but instead drove along a grass track which led to the end of the lake where there was a wood.
When they were out of sight of the house, the Marquis drew the horses to a standstill, fixed the reins to the dashboard, and turned to look at Davita.
She was sitting in the corner of the chaise where he had placed her, her fingers clenched together, and there was still a stricken expression in her eyes.
At the same time, she was not trembling so violently.
“It is all right,” the Marquis said quietly. “You are safe!”
It was then that Davita gave a little cry and burst into tears.
A Night of Gaiety Page 13