A Steeplechase For Love

by Barbara Cartland

  It was fortunate, Helsa now reflected, that she had climbed onto the roof and it was most unlikely they would have the slightest idea that she was there.

  “Now show me exactly where I have to go,” Lady Basset was asking.

  “It’s quite simple,” the man answered. “I can show you from ’ere that you can ride out from the front of the ’ouse and through yon orchard and into the field beyond.”

  “Yes, yes, I can see that quite clearly,” Lady Basset responded in a somewhat agitated way

  “Avoid them trees on the left ’and side,” the man went on, “then ride perfectly straight for about ’alf a mile before you reach the wood I am pointin’ out now.”

  “Yes, yes,” Lady Basset murmured. “I can see it rising up at the end.”

  “Exactly,” he added. “That is where the men are ’iding who are waitin’ for you.”

  Helsa did not understand what was going on.

  “You are certain I will not be seen?” Lady Basset asked her mysterious companion.

  “Does it matter if your Ladyship is seen?” the man questioned. “After all, you want to be at the end of the steeplechase and that is the point where they turn and ride back as quickly as they can to the winnin’ post.”

  “Yes, yes, now I understand – but have I time?”

  The man gave a laugh and it was not a particularly pleasant sound.

  “Plenty of time, my Lady. Watson assured me it would take them an hour and a ’alf to reach that point and by the time they get there your ’orse will be out of sight and you will be bound up and in the slate mine.”

  Listening, Helsa thought she must be dreaming.

  Or else imagining in some strange way all she was overhearing.

  “Yes, that is what Watson told me,” Lady Basset remarked. “I hope they will be gentle with me.”

  “Of course they will. It’ll only be ’is Grace who is likely to put up a fight. They will just take you into the mine and then bring ’is Grace the Duke down and set ’im beside you.”

  Overhead Helsa gave a little gasp.

  But she dare not move in case they realised she was there.

  “Now this is the most difficult bit,” the man below was saying.

  “Go over with me once again exactly what is going to happen, Tybolt, so that there will be no mistakes,” Lady Basset demanded.

  “Well, as soon as your Ladyship and ’is Grace are tied up and findin’ it impossible to move, I’ll then come in. When you see me you’ll exclaim, ‘Silas!’ as though I was the last person on earth you expected.”

  “Then what do you say?” “I reply, ‘this is my revenge and I’m goin’ to leave you both ’ere till you die of starvation!’ You must give a scream and plead with me.”

  “What do I say?” Lady Basset asked him.

  “You beg me to forgive you if you ’urt me when you refused to marry me, sayin’ you only wanted to marry the man you love.”

  There was a pause as if the man called Tybolt was thinking and then he added,

  “I will say, ‘well, now you can die with the man you love and I just ’ope that’ll make you ‘appy!’ Then you start to cry. The Duke will probably say somethin’ and if he does I’ll answer ’im, but ’e’ll be roped so that he cannot move.”

  “You’ll make certain of that, Tybolt?” “Sure I will. Now this is the trickiest bit.”

  Helsa was listening intently and Lady Basset was obviously listening too.

  After a moment’s silence Tybolt continued,

  “You must cough as if it’s too difficult for you to speak. Then you must gasp and splutter, ‘the dust from the slate is makin’ it difficult for me to breathe.’ It is then I draw a bottle from my pocket.”

  “A bottle?” “Because I am an ’umane man I say,” Tybolt went on. “I’m goin’ to give you somethin’ to ease your throat and if I’m ’onest I don’t want you to die too quickly.”

  “You must say, ‘you are a cruel wicked man,’ and then cough again. ‘Take a drink of this,’ I’ll say, puttin’ the bottle to your lips. But be sure you don’t swallow any of it.”

  “I think I understand,” murmured Lady Basset.

  “Then I’ll turn to the Duke and say, ‘I suppose if I’m charitable to ’er who has ’urt me so much, I should be charitable to you too’. I’ll ’old the bottle up to his lips and you must cough at the same time just in case ’e makes any effort not to accept it.”

  “Then you will force the drink down his throat?” Lady Basset asked.

  “If ’e swallows too much of what’s in that bottle, ’e’ll be unable to speak, but it’s essential he should be able to.”

  “Yes, of course. I understand that he will have just enough so that his brain is not functioning properly, but he will do as the Priest tells him.”

  “He will then repeat every word ’e is told,” Tybolt replied with glee.

  “You are sure of that, Tybolt?” “As sure as I’m standin’ ’ere.” “And the Priest? Where will he be while all this is going on?” Lady Basset enquired sharply.

  “’E’ll be ’iding outside the mine. ’E’ll come in the moment I signal to ’im, which will be as soon as the drug works on the Duke.”

  “Then he will marry us,” Lady Basset cried eagerly.

  “’e’ll marry you and I’ll be a witness that ’e did so and so will a man who ’as come down from London with the Priest.”

  “I see that you have arranged everything perfectly, Tybolt, just as I wanted you to,” sighed Lady Basset.

  “I have carried out your orders, my Lady, and I’ll be grateful if I can ’ave the money you promised me now.”

  “It is here,” said Lady Basset, “and be careful you don’t lose it.”

  There was silence while Helsa presumed that she was passing a package over to him.

  Then Helsa heard her ask in a very different tone,

  “You are sure he really is a Priest.”

  “I promise you I have checked ’im thoroughly and ’e is the incumbent at a Church in the East End. But ’e’s fallen on ’ard times and like everyone else ’e needs the cash.”

  “We are certainly paying him most generously,” commented Lady Basset sourly.

  “To get the best you ’ave to pay the best,” Tybolt retorted. “Now, my Lady, you should be on your way. The ’orse is waitin’ for you at the front door and I told the groom you wished to ride alone and not be accompanied.”

  “Quite right,” grunted Lady Basset.

  “Now look once again to where you are goin’,” he urged her, pointing where he had pointed earlier. “And there’s no ’urry, you ’ave plenty of time. But the sooner you’re in that slate mine the better.”

  “I am leaving at once,” Lady Basset insisted, “and thank you very much for your help. You will not fail to rescue us on time?”

  “No, of course not. As soon as the Priest has left we must give the Duke a little time to recover from the drug, although he will doubtless suffer a severe ’eadache for the rest of the day. Then we will come in and set both of you free.”

  “Thank you again, Tybolt, I will leave as soon as I go downstairs.”

  Helsa heard her leave the room and descending the narrow staircase.

  She did not move, but held her breath until she heard the man called Tybolt follow her.

  Even then she waited for what seemed an eternity of time until she dared slip down through the skylight onto the old bed.

  She opened the door of the tower very cautiously, just in case Tybolt was still hanging about.

  But there was no one to be seen.

  Helsa hurried out of the West wing and towards the back of the house.

  There appeared to be no one about and she was sure that the footmen and even Mr. Martin were still outside seeing what they could of the steeplechase.

  She ran as fast as she could the quickest way to the stables.

  When she got there, she found, as she had expected, that every stall was empty except for Samson�
��s.

  He was looking, she felt, somewhat forlorn at being left behind.

  Because she had always looked after Golden Arrow herself, it was no trouble to saddle and bridle Samson.

  She then rode out of the stable yard without anyone realising that she had been there.

  She knew the country well and had ridden in every field and wood in which the steeplechase was now taking place.

  She therefore knew exactly where the horses would be forced to slow down to walking pace.

  And she would be able to warn the Duke what was waiting for him at the top of Monk Wood.

  She had not visited the slate mine for years, but she knew exactly where it was – in Monk Wood.

  Her father had taken her into it when she had been about nine years old and he had told her how at one time, when slate had been in demand, it had been busy with men cutting it out of the rock face.

  Samson was delighted to be free.

  As she could feel that he wanted to gallop, Helsa let him do so until they were out of sight of The Hall.

  Then she felt safer and realising that she had plenty of time, she made him go slower.

  The problem that now presented itself to her was that the Duke might not believe her incredibly far-fetched story.

  Worse still, he might not be far enough ahead of the other riders and then it would be very hard for her to stop him.

  There was a place at the very foot of Monk Wood where she knew it would be impossible for any rider to hurry and the path that led upwards was steep and rough – at the same time it was an excellent test in a steeplechase for those who believed it could easily be won in a gallop.

  ‘That is where I must stop the Duke,’ she decided and once again she was afraid that he might refuse to do so or to listen to her.

  Because she was so nervous it seemed as if the way towards Monk Wood was far further than it really was.

  In fact Helsa was almost afraid that the Duke would have ridden past and gone unsuspecting to his doom.

  It seemed to her absolutely incredible that such an astonishing plot could have been devised by Lady Basset, so that she could get her own way and become the Duke’s wife by deceit and subterfuge.

  Equally Helsa had to admit that her plan had been well thought out and with a diabolical cleverness that made her shiver because it was so evil.

  ‘How could any woman,’ she reflected, ‘demean herself to trap and capture a man and to force him into matrimony just because he is a Duke?’

  She knew how horrified her father would be.

  Yet if the Duke was married by a legitimate Priest and there were witnesses to the marriage, there could be no doubt it had actually taken place.

  And it would be impossible for the Duke to free himself without the scandal of a divorce – a divorce which would have to go through an Act of Parliament and take years to finalise.

  It was the wickedest plot ever thought up against a man who had done Lady Basset no harm – except of course to refuse her obvious advances because she did not attract him.

  ‘I must save him, I must,’ Helsa determined.

  She was frightened once again that he would ride past her refusing to listen to her pleas and believe such an extraordinary and unlikely story.

  At last, and it seemed to her to take a century, she reached the bottom of Monk Wood and it was where it joined another wood.

  The steep climb to the top of it began here and she could see that Watson had put red ribbons all the way up it.

  It would be impossible for two competitors in this steeplechase to ride up it side by side and that at least, she thought, was one point in her favour.

  She pulled in Samson and then stood looking at the incline.

  It was then that she decided it would be easier to tell the Duke what was happening if she was not mounted.

  So she slipped down from Samson’s back and tied his reins to a fallen tree.

  Then she walked over the stones and dead leaves to the beribboned ascent and climbed until she was just far enough up to be out of sight of anyone approaching.

  Helsa waited.

  She could not make out any sound of horses in the distance – there was only the chirping of little birds and the rustle of rabbits in the undergrowth.

  Yet she knew, lurking at the top of the wood, there were four men determined to take the Duke prisoner and to force him into the slate mine where Lady Basset would by now be waiting for him.

  Her father had taught her to pray when she was a small child and frightened by thunderstorms.

  After that she prayed when she was afraid of the dark or of ghosts she thought lurked in some parts of The Hall. She had known then that God and his angels would protect her.

  She now prayed frantically and fervently not for herself but for the Duke.

  How could the Duke suspect for one moment that any woman he met in the Social world could ever behave in such a cruel and wanton manner?

  He would find it impossible to believe that anyone could desire his title so desperately that she would go to such extremes.

  ‘I must save him, I must!’ Helsa prayed. ‘Please God help me! Please make him listen to me. Please make him believe me.’

  She repeated the words over and over again.

  Suddenly she heard a horse approaching.

  It was travelling quite quickly.

  She knew that was because the path through the wood where she was now standing was mossy – she had often ridden through it on Golden Arrow.

  She, however, always stopped when she reached the climb to Monk Wood as she knew it was so dangerous.

  The sound of hooves was growing louder.

  She drew in her breath afraid that it might not be the Duke – or, if it was him, that he would be angry at finding her blocking his way.

  She pressed her fingers together until they almost hurt and then, as she saw him riding not too fast towards her, she realised that the moment had come.

  The Duke was looking down as if to see what the ground in front of him was like.

  For a moment he did not see her.

  Then he suddenly looked up and saw Helsa.

  For just a moment he was only aware that she was unbelievably lovely.

  He thought that as she was not in riding clothes she must have walked there.

  Then, as he looked at her with a smile, he saw that she was holding up her hand as if to stop him.

  He was well in front of the other competitors and there was only perhaps another half a mile to go before he would win the steeplechase.

  At the same time it was always a mistake to stop when one was so far ahead.

  As he approached Helsa, he expected her to get out of his way, but she remained stationless in front of him.

  Without the Duke pulling at his reins Masterpiece recognised that he could not go any further.

  Helsa ran to his side.

  “What is it? Why are you stopping me?” the Duke demanded.

  “You cannot go any further,” cried Helsa. “There are men at the top of this wood waiting to force you off your horse and pull you into the slate mine.”

  “What are you talking about?” the Duke enquired. “I don’t understand.”

  “Lady Basset is waiting there with a Priest who will marry you!”

  The Duke stared at her.

  “Is this a joke?” “No, it is true and you have to believe me, Your Grace. I swear to you on everything I hold sacred that this is a plot against you. Lady Basset has a genuine Priest there who she has bribed to take the Service. They will first drug you with a liquid, which they will force you to drink, so that you do not know what you are doing.”

  The Duke looked at her in bewilderment.

  “I find this – very hard to believe,” he stammered.

  “Of course you do, Your Grace, but I swear what I have told you is the truth and the complete truth.”

  Helsa drew in her breath before continuing,

  “If you proceed any further you will
find yourself married to Lady Basset, because they have a drug that will prevent your brain from working, although you will make the right responses and there are two men who will witness that you are actually married to her.”

  The Duke was silent for a moment and then he said,

  “I suppose I have to believe you, although it seems to me just incredible and such a tale could only come from some adventure story and not real life.”

  “It is all true, Your Grace, I swear to you it is. So please, please ride back to The Hall and, if you are wise, you will leave immediately for London.”

  She reckoned that as the Priest would still be there, Lady Basset might find some other way of tricking him into matrimony.

  The Duke was silent and still hesitating.

  Helsa looked past him and down the path on which she had just come.

  As if she had asked the question, the Duke added rather petulantly,

  “I am well ahead of the field and I am very anxious for Masterpiece to win the steeplechase.”

  “I know! I know!” cried Helsa, “but he will not win – they will merely think you had a fall and the others will ride past without realising you are held a captive in the slate mine.”

  The Duke sighed.

  “Well, I suppose I must accept that you are telling me the truth and I must be grateful you are saving me.”

  “How could you possibly marry any woman, Your Grace, who would contrive in such a cruel and wicked way to force you into it against your will?”

  The Duke still looked rather indecisive before he finally turned to Helsa again, “Now tell me what I must do?” the Duke asked. “Otherwise we could be joined by young Ashley who is riding, in my opinion, the only horse capable of competing with Masterpiece.”

  “Follow me,” Helsa said quickly. “I will show you a route where no one will see you. I think you will have to admit at the stables you thought Masterpiece was limping a little and so you were forced to withdraw from the race.”

  The Duke smiled at her as if he thought it was very intelligent of her to have worked it all out.

  But he did not say anything.

  Helsa then walked ahead of him to where she had tied up Samson.

  The Duke looked in amazement at his other horse.

  “So you came on Samson?” “When I heard what was happening, Your Grace, I ran to the stables as quickly as I could. He was the only horse left there.”