Journey to love

by Barbara Cartland

  Shana turned towards the door.

  “I must go and see Mrs. Grimes before I leave and make some excuse for having to go to London in such a hurry.”

  “I am sure you have friends there.”

  “Not many. Actually I much prefer being in the country.”

  “Then let us hope that our journey will not take too long and we shall be successful quicker than we expect.”

  “You are just saying that to make me less nervous than I am already,” Shana pointed out. “And I think it will be a miracle if it turns out as you hope it will.”

  “Believe it or not,” the Marquis replied, “miracles do happen and the first has occurred already.”

  She looked at him in surprise uncertain what he meant.

  “Have you forgotten that you are the only person in the world who has actually seen the criminals we are pursuing? Europe has been looking for them for two years.”

  “Then all I can say is that Europe is either very unlucky or very inefficient!”

  She walked from the room as she spoke and as she turned towards the stairs she heard the Marquis laugh.

  She did not realise he was thinking that Miss Davis was the most unusual woman he had ever encountered.

  Not only because she had no wish to be with him, which he had never experienced before, but also because she seldom said what he expected her to say.

  He was not so stupid that he did not realise she could never be what she was pretending to be. No one could look less like a cook at a village inn.

  She spoke like a lady and was proficient in several languages.

  She had said that she was a teacher and he could not imagine what sort of school in the country she would be teaching in, as she would be wasting her time if she was teaching the alphabet to village children.

  Was there something very wrong with her outlook on life or her family background?

  He was extremely curious and if nothing else, she would give him plenty to think about on the voyage to Rome.

  As far as he was concerned this expedition had come at exactly the right moment as he needed to escape from Lady Irene and what could be better than for him to disappear abroad where she could not follow him?

  Most of his guests on Monday morning had driven back to London in their own carriages.

  When he told Lady Irene that he had arranged an important meeting in London very early, she had insisted that he must change it.

  “We will get to London in time for luncheon, dearest,” she had said. “We can eat in my house and there will be no reason for you to hurry away when it is finished.”

  The Marquis knew exactly what she meant and had no intention of agreeing to her invitation.

  He had decided after the drama on Saturday night that it would be impossible for him ever again to visit Irene’s bedroom.

  In fact he had no desire to do so. Quite suddenly, as it had happened to him before in his life, his interest in her had vanished.

  She no longer attracted him and he could not explain to himself or anyone else why this change had occurred unexpectedly.

  For the Marquis there should always be a quick ending to a love affair.

  But he had, where Irene was concerned, no wish for a scene as he recognised only too well the tears and accusations there would be if he told her the truth,

  He therefore made the excuse on Sunday night that he had contracted a bad headache and was retiring to bed early.

  On Monday morning he left her a note and when she was called it was handed to her by her lady’s maid.

  “His Lordship says as your Ladyship was to have this letter as soon as you woke,” she said.

  Lady Irene had sat up in bed and there was a hard expression in her eyes as she opened the envelope.

  The Marquis wrote that he was deeply distressed at not being able to escort her to London. He had an urgent message from the Prime Minister and he had to be at 10 Downing Street by half-past ten.

  He followed this information with a polished compliment about her looks and how delightful it had been to welcome her as a guest at the Hall, but he made no reference to calling later in the day at her house.

  Lady Irene’s lips were set in a hard line as she descended the stairs later in the morning.

  She drove to London with her lady’s maid in her comfortable carriage.

  The Marquis had no intention of letting her know that he was going abroad and it would be a mistake for her to talk about his arrangements.

  It was therefore wiser to leave her guessing for the rest of the week whether he was in the country or London.

  When she finally realised the truth that their affair had ended, there was nothing she would be able to do about it.

  The Marquis knew she might want to continue her pursuit of him, but by that time he would be in the Mediterranean.

  He had a great many matters to see to at the Hall before he left and there were innumerable instructions for his secretary.

  “I am surprised at your going away, my Lord, just as the shooting season has started,” the secretary commented.

  “I do not suppose I shall be very long,” the Marquis explained. “But it is something I have to do and I am not able to refuse.”

  His secretary guessed that his travels were something to do with the Prince of Wales or perhaps with the Prime Minister with whom he knew his Lordship was very friendly.

  “Just keep things going,” the Marquis ordered, “until I return. I do not expect to be away for any length of time.”

  “Your Lordship can leave everything to me,” his secretary assured him.

  “I know,” the Marquis replied. “You are always very tactful.”

  His secretary laughed.

  “I want to believe that, my Lord. And if you need a rest from those who talk too much and never leave your Lordship alone, who could blame you?”

  “Who indeed? And I think I am entitled to a short holiday.”

  He did not say any more and his secretary wondered what he was up to now.

  If it was a woman, he had no idea who she was. He knew even better than the Marquis himself that Lady Irene was on her way out.

  ‘A good job too,’ he thought. ‘I never did like that woman. She may be beautiful, but she had nothing else to offer.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Shana and Betty, her maid, packed a large trunk with her clothes and hats.

  “It looks as if you be going away for a long time, miss,” Betty commented.

  “I don’t think it will be very long, but I do not know exactly what we will be doing, so I must take a variety of clothes.”

  Betty seemed satisfied with Shana’s explanation and did not ask her any more questions.

  When she finally retired to bed she turned over and over in her mind what she was pushed into and could only come to the conclusion that, although she must go to Rome with the Marquis, her father would not approve.

  ‘I can hardly ask the Marquis to take a chaperone with us,’ she thought.

  Then she told herself she was being very stupid. As he was known as being so fastidious and particular with whom he associated, he was not likely to be interested in a girl who was alternatively a teacher and a cook.

  Another problem was of course getting to the Rose and Crown in the morning.

  Baker she knew would be the most curious of the servants and she had told him that she wanted to spend a little time with Mrs. Grimes before leaving to stay with friends. She had therefore arranged to be picked up from the Rose and Crown.

  Baker accepted this without comment and Shana told him,

  “I have asked Mrs. Baker to be very kind and send Mrs. Grimes some food every day. There is no one at the Rose and Crown who can cook and she must keep up her strength.”

  “I’ll see to it, Miss Shana,” Baker said stiffly. “And I suppose one of the grooms can take it to her.”

  “Yes, of course,” Shana agreed.

  She thought she must remember to tell Bob that the food w
as coming daily for his wife and to be careful not to say she would be driving off with the Marquis.

  ‘Being in disguise,’ she thought to herself, ‘is horribly difficult. I hope it is something I do not have to do again. Once is quite enough!’

  It was not merely a question of once.

  Shana was feeling very nervous about what would happen when they reached Rome and she considered that the Marquis and the Italian Ambassador had made much too much out of her contact and sight of the Italians.

  The Officials in Rome who were really concerned with catching the thieves would think her contribution of little importance.

  ‘Anyway, if they are not impressed, I shall be able to come home all the quicker,’ she decided.

  Then she remembered that she would have to persuade the Marquis to bring her back for it would be impossible for her to return alone.

  She tried not to think of everything that might go wrong, but endless snags kept jumping up in front of her and she could not escape from them.

  *

  The groom brought the chaise round at half-past nine and it did not take them long to reach the Rose and Crown.

  As soon as the groom had unloaded her luggage in the stable yard, Shana sent him back as it would be a mistake for him to see the Marquis arrive. He would be bound to tell Baker his Lordship had been at the Rose and Crown at the same time as her.

  She ran upstairs to see Mrs. Grimes, who was better, but still in pain.

  “I ’ears you’s goin’ away, Miss Shana,” she said. “I don’t know what we’ll do without you, you’ve been so kind to us and we’ll never forget your ’elp.”

  “I have told the staff at home to bring you some food every day and I am sure there will be enough for your husband too.”

  Mrs. Grimes clasped her hands together.

  “You’re an angel! And I’ll say a prayer for you every night. You’re that pretty it’s time you ’ad an ’usband.”

  Shana laughed.

  “There is no hurry for that and you know we are rather short of tall, handsome Don Juans in Hertfordshire.”

  She did not expect Mrs. Grimes to know who Don Juan was, but she understood the gist of what she was saying.

  “One’ll turn up sooner or later,” Mrs. Grimes remarked. “You mark me words.”

  “I do hope so you are right,” Shana laughed.

  She thought she heard the sound of wheels and said goodbye to Mrs. Grimes.

  She came downstairs to find that she was right.

  The Marquis had arrived a little earlier than expected and Shana was thankful she had sent her own chaise back home quickly.

  She just had time to say to Bob Grimes,

  “Be careful not to let his Lordship know who I am and no one must know who is driving me to London.”

  Bob nodded as the Marquis came in through the back door.

  He was so tall he seemed to fill the whole narrow passage and he looked pleased when he saw Shana.

  He did not say anything, but his groom, without being told, picked up Shana’s luggage and pilled it into the Marquis’s impressive fourgon which was drawn by four perfectly matched stallions.

  Shana thought no one could possess a better conveyance, even if travelling towards disaster.

  The Marquis was obviously in a hurry. Having said farewell to Bob he stepped into the driving seat.

  Only as they moved out of the yard and onto the road did he say to Shana,

  “You are punctual, which is unusual in a woman. Or were you anxious to get away so that no one will know where we are going?”

  “I hope no one does know,” Shana answered. “Although I do not think anyone would believe it.”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “I agree that it does all sound rather far-fetched. But we now have something positive to convince us. The wretched footman the Italian stabbed died this morning!”

  “Oh, I am sorry!” Shana exclaimed.

  She thought it was a miserable way for a young man to lose his life.

  As the Marquis did not say any more, they drove on in silence.

  She saw at once that he was as expert with the reins like her father and she had to admit she had never driven behind a finer team of horses.

  They were travelling too fast for there to be much conversation on the journey between her and the Marquis.

  When they neared the outskirts of London, she was certain he must have broken every record, but he had to drive more slowly through the traffic.

  Next they reached the Thames and when Shana saw the Marquis’s yacht moored off the Embankment, she was most impressed. It was far larger and more graceful than she had expected.

  “I have only had the Seashell for two years,” the Marquis explained as they drove up alongside her. “I hope you enjoy every innovation I have installed including electric light.”

  Shana’s eyes widened in surprise.

  Her father had told her that a few years earlier electric light had been installed in the Transatlantic steamers going to America, but she had not expected smaller vessels to follow suit so quickly.

  She was to find however that the Seashell was equipped with every new invention that had ever been thought of and at the same time it was extremely prettily decorated.

  As she walked into the Saloon, she could not help exclaiming with delight.

  “I am glad you like my yacht,” the Marquis said. “I designed it myself. I see no reason because one is at sea that one should not please the eye as well as the body.”

  “It is very pretty!” Shana exclaimed.

  There were masses of flowers arranged in vases in the Saloon and she wondered if the Marquis always provided flowers on his yacht or if they had been ordered because he was bringing a lady on board.

  Then she told herself she was being very naïve.

  Of course the Marquis did not travel alone and Shana suspected that he was accompanied by a female companion on every voyage he undertook.

  As soon as they came aboard, the Marquis ordered the Captain to put to sea.

  They were, in fact, moving down the river before the team that had brought them from the country was turning away from the Embankment.

  Luncheon was ready, but the Marquis suggested that Shana might like to see her cabin before they ate and she was taken below by the Steward.

  The cabin was as attractive as the Saloon. A pink chintz covered the portholes with the same material on the bed. It was echoed in the silk curtains which fell from a gold corolla fastened to the ceiling.

  There were flowers on the dressing table and a thick carpet on the floor.

  Shana thought it would be impossible for any vessel to be more attractively decorated.

  She had travelled to the Mediterranean with her father when he had taken her to Venice and her cabin, she thought, had been rather drab and dull in comparison.

  She was fascinated to find that there was a bathroom leading off her cabin, so she washed her hands and after she had taken off her hat, she went above.

  By this time they were moving very fast down river and it occurred to Shana that the Marquis was in just as much hurry to reach Rome and complete their mission as she was.

  When she found him in the Saloon, he seemed relaxed and at his ease.

  “I thought as it is the beginning of our adventure,” he said, “that we should drink our own health in champagne. You certainly deserve a glass.”

  “For what particular reason?” Shana enquired.

  “Because unlike most women you did not want to talk when we were driving,” he replied, “so I could concentrate on my horses.”

  She thought he was being somewhat provocative and therefore replied,

  “Which of course are more important than women at any time!”

  “I would not be so impolite as to make such a suggestion,” the Marquis retorted. “But there is a time and a place for everything and I find most women talk too much.”

  “To be quite frank,” Shana said, “you are w
arning me that the less I say the more you will appreciate my company.”

  “You are twisting what I am saying and actually I was trying to pay you a compliment.”

  “Which of course I must be very grateful for, considering they are often in short supply,” Shana countered.

  The Marquis reflected that this was a very different conversation from his usual exchanges with most women, who would be flattering him whilst making it clear that they wanted to talk about themselves.

  He found everything he said at luncheon was answered in a different way from his expectations and then when she had just made him laugh,

  Shana was suddenly serious.

  “I have just thought of something,” she muttered. “What is it?”

  “We are going to Rome, but I do not have a passport.” The Marquis smiled.

  “Now you are underestimating my powers of organisation.”

  “You mean you have brought one for me?”

  Shana was thinking that when she had travelled abroad her name had been attached to her father’s passport in the form of a letter signed by the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.

  She could hardly have produced it, or one of her own, even if she had one and, in fact of course, her father had taken his passport with him when he left England.

  “When the Italian Ambassador,” the Marquis was saying, “told me it was imperative that you and I should go to Italy immediately, I remembered that you would need a passport, but he thought as the cook at the Rose and Crown you would probably not have one.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I have had you added to my own passport,” the Marquis replied.

  “How could you do that?”

  “I thought that if we were to arrive in Rome and mix with a variety of people ranging from those of social position to those who might be suspected of being burglars, it was important there should not be any questions asked as to why you were accompanying me.”

  Shana knew this to be true, but she could not think what he could do about it.

  “If I was to arrive in Rome using my own name,” the Marquis added, “it would be impossible to say you were my wife when we meet people who would know I am not married.”

  “Of course you could not do that,” Shana said quickly.