For the first time it crossed his mind that, if she was Hungarian, she would be expected to ride well and for her not to do so might arouse suspicions.
He helped her into his phaeton which, drawn by two superlative horses, was waiting for them outside.
As they drove off, he said,
“I have never had time to ask you before, but do you like riding?”
She looked at him and he saw her eyes were twinkling as she replied,
“I know what you are really asking me is whether I ride well enough to convince anybody who sees me that I am really Hungarian!”
“You are reading my thoughts again!”
“But of course! As you sometimes read mine!”
“Then answer my question.”
“I can do that quite easily. I ride very well, but I have not ridden for a long time. Although one never forgets, I shall doubtless be red and stiff after riding one of your spirited thoroughbreds.”
“It is something you must certainly do, once the funeral is over.”
There was a little pause.
Then Nadia said,
“Perhaps you will think it was wrong of me to be so – extravagant, but I did insist upon Madame Blanc buying me a habit, just in case you asked me to ride with you.”
Warren laughed, and it was a genuine sound of amusement.
“The trouble with you, Nadia, is that you are not only unpredictable, but usually one step ahead of me. It has only just occurred to me that people would expect you to ride well, while you tell me you have already anticipated that is what they would do!”
“It seemed somehow rather presumptuous when we were in Paris, but perhaps one day I shall be able to pay back the money you have spent on me.”
She made a little helpless gesture with her hands before she added,
“But for the moment – I cannot think how.”
“You forget, it is I who am in your debt, not you in mine,” Warren replied. “And I am so grateful that I want to thank you over and over again, and think of some way in which I can tell you how much your being here means to me.”
He looked down at her as he spoke and, as she was looking up at him, their eyes met.
It flashed through his mind that the obvious way to prove how pleased he was would be to kiss her.
For a moment it was hard to look away.
Then, as if he remembered the horses needed his attention, Warren looked ahead and said,
“Now you will have your first view of Buckwood and I know you will not be disappointed,”
Chapter Five
When the funeral was over and the family began to leave, everybody was congratulating Warren on his engagement – and especially on Nadia.
Although he had expected them to be effusive he realised they spoke with a sincerity that had nothing to do with ordinary politeness.
He had noticed himself that after luncheon the first day and again after dinner, Nadia had made a point of talking to those of his relatives who were rather dull and uninteresting and would otherwise have been ignored.
He felt it was very tactful of her and he could not help comparing her with Magnolia, who invariably made herself the centre of attention to the male members of any party at which she appeared.
He noticed that Nadia seemed particularly kind to the older women, especially those whom the other members of the family had for years classified as bores.
When everyone had left, he drove across the Park to his mother’s house and found taking tea with Nadia in the drawing room.
“We are rather late, dearest,” his mother said when he came into the room, “but I felt a good cup of tea was what I needed to sustain me.”
“You were marvellous, Mama!” Warren said, bending down to kiss her. “I only hope it has not been too much for you.”
“It was certainly rather upsetting,” his mother replied quietly, “I was very fond of Arthur. At the same time he did not linger on for months like your poor grandfather did.”
Warren had always thought he would hate to die slowly with everybody thinking in the words of Charles II that he took ‘an unconscionable time’ in doing so.
In fact, if he had the choice, he would rather die in battle or by accident, than be nothing but a body that breathed but could not think.
Because the funeral had left him feeling sombre, he tried to smile as he said,
“Now, tell me what you have planned for this evening, although it seems incredible, we should be alone. But now the family has left, it is quite eerie to have the house so quiet.”
He was thinking also that it was almost unnerving to realise that it was now his and that everybody was looking to him to bring in changes and perhaps new restrictions.
He had already made up his mind he would move slowly and try not to upset anybody.
He was well aware that the old servants were set in their ways and, as Mr. Greyshott had everything running so smoothly, he had no wish to ruffle the surface of what appeared to be a very calm sea.
“What I think would be best,” his mother answered, “is if either you dine here with Nadia, or she comes to you. I, personally, want to retire to bed.”
“You are not overtired, Mama?” Warren asked hastily.
“No dearest, but I hate funerals and I found a great number of relatives all at the same time extremely indigestible!”
Nadia laughed and it was a very pretty sound.
“Perhaps they would all look better if they were not draped in black,” she said. “My father always hated black. He said it was a dismal colour that only suited dismal people.”
As she spoke, her eyes met Warren’s and they both knew they were thinking of Madame Blanc’s caustic comments about women in mourning looked like black crows that he had shared with her.
“I think as the cooks have had a lot of hard work in preparing luncheon for so many people,” Warren said, “I will dine here, Mama.”
“Very well, dearest, and being upstairs I shall feel that Nadia is adequately chaperoned even from the most ill-natured gossip.”
“She has certainly given them enough to talk about at the moment,” Warren remarked.
Then his eyes darkened as he remembered the same was true of Magnolia.
Unbelievably she had come to the funeral, even though after he had turned her out of the house, he was sure that she would return to London.
Instead of which, after almost everybody was seated and the service about to begin she had appeared at the West door of the Church.
One of the ushers had hurried forward and, because Warren had not given any orders to the contrary, she was led up the aisle and squeezed into the family pew just behind where he was sitting.
She obviously intended to cause a sensation and she was dressed in a manner that made every woman as well as every man in the congregation find it difficult to take their eyes from her.
Her gown was as elegant as the one she had been wearing the day before, but far more elaborate. Nevertheless it revealed her figure in the same seductive manner and the long veil falling from a small bonnet to cover her face was more suitable for a widow than for an ordinary mourner.
Warren, who just glanced at her, was sure it was what she had worn for Raymond’s funeral and it had seemed equally sensational then.
As she knelt behind him, he could smell the fragrance of her perfume and he suspected that she was willing him to be aware of her.
All through the service he felt as if her eyes were boring between his shoulder blades and, although he tried to ignore her, it was impossible.
The coffin was carried down the aisle by soldiers of the County Yeomanry of which the Marquis had once been Colonel-in-Chief.
Warren walked behind it and was aware as he did so that Magnolia had pushed her way to the forefront of the other mourners.
It was then he realised that she carried in her hand a small bouquet of white orchids.
When the coffin was lowered into the grave, she dramatically threw the flow
ers on top of it.
Then she put her hands to her eyes, staggered and appeared about to collapse.
Because she was standing close to him, instinctively Warren put his arms around her to prevent her from falling into the grave.
Then, as he half carried her away, he was aware that while her eyes were closed there was a faint smile on her lips and she was definitely play-acting.
He handed her over to another member of the family as quickly as he could.
At the same time he was furiously angry that she had indulged in a sensational scene, which he knew would lose nothing in the telling.
There would also, he was quite sure, be reports in the local newspapers.
After such outrageous behaviour, he was not surprised when the whole party arrived back at the house to find Magnolia ensconced in a comfortable chair in the drawing room with one of the maids ministering smelling salts to her.
He made no effort to speak to her, but other members of the family went to her side, and Warren could hear her lamenting in a low but clear voice how much she would miss the Marquis.
“He was always so kind to me,” he heard her say, “and I shall not only miss him but this house. I feel as if it is my home and I cannot bear to lose it!”
There was a most convincing little sob in her voice as she said the last words.
Warren thought, although it might have been his imagination, that one or two of the relatives glanced at him as if they thought he had the answer to her problem.
It was not until she left almost immediately after luncheon, so as to receive the maximum amount of attention, with half of the men present going to the front door to see her off, that Warren was able to heave a sigh of relief.
‘Now there is no excuse for her to come back again,’ he told himself – although he had the uncomfortable feeling that she might try.
He wished then that he had asked Nadia to attend the funeral luncheon and there made it clear that the date of their marriage would be announced as soon as possible.
Yet since she had met all the family the previous day, he had thought it unnecessary for her to appear to be mourning the Marquis whom she had never met.
As soon as Magnolia had gone, he therefore made a point of saying to all his relatives as he bade them goodbye,
“I hope when you come here again it will be in much happier circumstances.”
It was impossible for them not to realise what he meant and the majority of them replied automatically,
“You mean your wedding, Warren dear!”
“I think perhaps we should have an engagement party before that,” he said with a smile. “It could not of course be a ball, but perhaps a garden party or a reception at the beginning of August.”
“We will look forward to it!” everybody exclaimed.
He knew that for the family any party at Buckwood was always hailed as something particularly enjoyable.
Now, looking at Nadia across the tea table, he thought how attractive she looked in a gown that appeared simple, but had all the elegance that only France could create for a woman.
Even though she was still very thin, there was colour in her cheeks that had not been there before and, while her eyes were still too large for her face, there was a light in them that seemed as if she had captured the sunlight.
“Tomorrow,” he said, “I suggest as I have the farms to visit and it would be far quicker to ride than to drive, that you accompany me on horseback.”
There was no need for Nadia to speak in order to express her excitement, since the look on her face did it for her.
Then Warren’s mother suggested,
“I know how thrilled and delighted everybody will be to meet Nadia, but if you go to one farm you must visit them all, otherwise there will be a great deal of jealousy.”
“I have already thought of that,” Warren replied. “I remember how in the old days when I called at the farms they always said, ‘we’ve not seen ye’re mother lately! Tell her I’ve a pot of home-made jam waitin’ for her’.”
His mother laughed.
“Or else it was a jar of pickles or honey or a cut of the newly-cured ham. The people here have always been so generous!”
She put out her hand to touch Nadia on the arm.
“I know they will love you, my dear,” she said. “I noticed today how kind you were to the older members of the family.”
Nadia laughed.
“Mama always said if at a party there was somebody left out or alone, it showed that one was a bad hostess.”
“That is true! At the same time most young people are too busy thinking about themselves to have time for those who are no longer young.”
The way his mother spoke told Warren very clearly how much she approved of Nadia, and he congratulated himself for being so lucky as to have found somebody who would play the part so well.
He had never realised until his mother told him so that she had not liked Magnolia nor had she thought her good enough for him. So it was slightly surprising that she had taken so quickly to Nadia.
He was just holding out his cup for his mother to refill when a footman came into the room with a package on a silver salver.
“What is it, James?” Lady John asked.
“This has been left for the Countess, my Lady.”
As he spoke, he held out the salver towards Nadia, who looked at it in surprise.
“For me?” she asked.
“I cannot believe it is a wedding present already,” Warren joked.
Nadia took the parcel from the salver, which seemed to be a small box.
She looked at it, thinking there must be some mistake, then saw it was addressed in capital letters very clearly, “THE COUNTESS NADIA FERRAIS.”
“Open it!” Warren said. “It must be a present, although it seems surprising that any of my relatives should be so generous so quickly.”
“Now, darling, that is rather unkind!” his mother reproached him. “Ever since you were small the family always spoilt you with gifts at Christmas and on your birthday, and you used to complain bitterly when I made you write and thank for them.”
“That is true,” Warren said, “and you taught me never to ‘look a gift-horse in the mouth’!”
His mother laughed, and by this time Nadia had undone the outer covering of the parcel to find a box of chocolates.
They came from Gunters in Berkeley Square, who were famous for their special sweetmeats that Warren had often bought for his mother.
She had now, however, a touch of diabetes and had been forbidden to eat anything containing sugar.
Nadia looked first at the box, then at the paper in which it had been wrapped before she said,
“It does not say who sent it.”
“I expect the servant who took it at the door will know,” Warren replied.
Nadia undid the ribbon that tied the box, opened it and said,
“They certainly look very delicious! Will you have one?”
“Not now,” Warren replied. “Perhaps after dinner.”
“I am not allowed chocolates,” Lady John said, “so you will have to eat them all yourself, my dear.”
“Not after such a big tea!” Nadia protested.
She looked at Warren as she spoke, and he knew she was telling him that she was making a tremendous effort to eat, but was still finding it difficult.
She was just about to put the lid back on the box when Lady John said,
“Look at greedy Bertha!”
Ever since Warren had come home the two dogs that had always been at his uncle’s side had attached themselves to him.
One was a fairly young spaniel who he knew was an exceptionally good gun dog, the other Bertha, a bitch who had been a field trial winner in her day, but was now very old, crippled with rheumatism and finding it hard to see.
But ever since his arrival she had been at his heels and now had followed him into the house where she had lain down quietly beside his chair.
Now,
however, Bertha was sitting up on her hind legs, begging.
Nadia looked at her in surprise and Lady John explained,
“Poor Arthur developed a very sweet tooth in his old age and one of the reasons why he grew so fat, which undoubtedly contributed to his heart-attack, was that he was always eating chocolates.”
She looked at Bertha and smiled as she added,
“Bertha is as greedy about them as he was. As you can see, her mouth is watering as she can sense what you have in your hands.”
“Then she must certainly be the first to enjoy my present,” Nadia said.
She picked out what she thought was a soft-centred chocolate and held it out to Bertha who quickly gobbled it up, then was sitting up begging for more.
“That is enough,” Warren said. “She will get so fat that she will be slower than she is already.”
“Just one more,” Nadia pleaded.
She smiled at him as she spoke and held out another chocolate to Bertha.
The dog snatched it from her, and then suddenly as she did so, she seemed to shake all over.
So quickly that the three people watching could hardly believe it was happening, she turned and rolled over on her back.
For a few seconds every muscle in her body seemed to be twitching.
Then suddenly she was completely still.
Nadia gave a little cry and asked,
“What has happened? Has she had a fit?”
Warren went down on his knees beside Bertha. He was feeling for her heart.
Then he said,
“She is dead!”
“It cannot be true!” Lady John exclaimed. “How could it happen so suddenly?”
“Because she was poisoned!” Warren replied.
He reached out and took the box of chocolates from Nadia’s lap and then he put his arms around his mother and lifted her to her feet.
“I want you to come upstairs and rest, Mama,” he said. “I am going to send for the Veterinary Surgeon to examine both Bertha and the chocolates. Something unpleasant is happening and I do not want it to upset you.”
“But it does upset me!” his mother protested. “How could anybody be so wicked, so evil, as to give poisoned chocolates to Nadia?”
Revenge of the Heart Page 9