202. Love in the Dark

by Barbara Cartland

  “It must have been a very bad accident.”

  “It was and, although his body was badly bruised, his ribs fractured and his arms burnt in several places, it was his eyes that were most affected.”

  “It sounds horrible!” Susanna exclaimed.

  “We brought him to England so he could be operated on at Moorfields,” Mr. Chambers explained, “but the surgeons have now insisted that he remains completely in the dark for at least a month, perhaps longer. After that we shall know the best or the worst.”

  “You mean he might go totally blind?”

  “I think I am right in saying,” Mr. Chambers replied, “it is a fifty-fifty chance.”

  “I do hope the operation is successful.”

  “He has been operated on by those whom we believe to be the best surgeons in the world,” Mr. Chambers informed her. “But you can understand, Miss Brown, that because of what he suffers and because of what he fears, Mr. Dunblane is not an easy man to live with.”

  “I can understand exactly what he is feeling. I think we would all feel terrified and desperate if we thought that we might never see the light again.”

  “Then I know you will make every allowance for him when he is depressed and disagreeable and sometimes, I am sorry to say, rude.”

  “I shall – understand.”

  “Now we must get down to more practical details,” Mr. Chambers said briskly, drawing a small pad from his pocket. “I want to get Mr. Dunblane on the boat train from Victoria at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. He will find the journey to Florence very tiring, but I have arranged for private coaches to be attached to the ordinary trains and he will, of course, have his own servants with him.”

  “And a nurse I suppose?”

  “Mr Dunblane insists on being nursed by his valet, who has had some training. He categorically refuses to have a woman fussing over him and I will be frank and tell you, Miss Brown, that if we could have found a man with the same qualifications as yourself, Mr. Dunblane would have preferred it.”

  “I must try not to be obtrusively feminine.”

  It was the sort of remark that Susanna would have made to Miss Harding. She thought that Mr. Chambers looked slightly surprised, but he made no comment and merely asked with his pencil poised,

  “Have you a passport?”

  “N-no, I am afraid not.”

  “Then I must procure one for you immediately. I am sure that there will be no difficulty. Perhaps you will give me your full name and address.”

  Susanna began to think quickly.

  “My name,” she said, “is Susanna Brown.”

  “Your parents?”

  “They are both dead.”

  “I must have their names.”

  “Walter and Elizabeth Brown,” she invented.

  “And your address when your parents were alive?”

  Again it was difficult, but finally she said because she knew it well,

  “The Old Rectory, Lavenham Village, Hampshire.”

  “And your present address?” Mr Chambers enquired.

  “I came to London last night after I had seen your advertisement,” Susanna said. “I am staying with friends in Kensington.”

  “Previous to that?”

  “I have been staying with – friends since my parents’ death.”

  Mr. Chambers looked down at what he had written.

  “I am afraid that I must have your date of birth,” he said, “and I ought really to produce your birth certificate, but I am sure I can get round that difficulty.”

  He spoke in a manner that told Susanna he obviously had influence in official quarters.

  She felt that it would be a great mistake to say how young she was, since if she was under twenty-one he would obviously expect her to have Guardians and be under their jurisdiction.

  Quickly she made herself four years older than she was.

  “I was born on July 2nd – 1885.”

  “Thank you, Miss Brown. Now would you like me to send a carriage for you in the morning or would you prefer to meet us at the Railway Station?”

  “I think it would be easier for me to meet you at the Station,” Susanna replied.

  “Very well,” Mr. Chambers said. “A servant will be looking out for you at the entrance at Victoria. If by any chance you miss him, ask for the private coaches of Mr. Fyfe Dunblane, which are attached to the boat train. I feel sure that any porter will know exactly where to take you.”

  “Thank – you,” Susanna said faintly.

  She had the feeling she was being swept off her feet and her future decided for her in a manner that, now it was actually happening, took her breath away.

  Could she really do this? Could she really leave her mother and her father and start a new life on her own?

  “Now you have forgotten something very important,” Mr. Chambers broke into her thoughts.

  “What is that?” Susanna asked apprehensively.

  “You have not asked me what salary you will receive!”

  “No, I am afraid I forgot.”

  “It’s not very businesslike of you,” he smiled, “for after all I am sure you will agree that ‘the labourer is worthy of his hire.”

  “Yes – of course.”

  “I have advised Mr. Dunblane that the pay for anyone suitable is at the rate of twenty pounds per month, with, of course, everything provided.”

  “It seems very – generous,” Susanna said.

  She knew that was nearly twice as much as Miss Harding had received from her mother and she was surprised that she could earn so much.

  “Well, now everything is settled and I can only hope that you will enjoy being in Florence.”

  “It is a place I have always wanted to visit,” Susanna responded in all sincerity.

  “I can promise you one thing, you will not be disappointed in Florence,” Mr. Chambers replied.

  He escorted her downstairs, shook her by the hand and a servant showed her out into the street where James was waiting.

  “I am sorry to keep you so long, James,” Susanna said as they walked away.

  “That's all right, miss, it’s nice to get a bit of fresh air.”

  As they crossed the road, she turned back a little to say to James who was a step behind her,

  “I would be very grateful, James, if you will not mention where we have been to anyone. There was a friend I wanted to visit, but I don’t think that her Ladyship would have approved.”

  She was well aware that it was wrong to intrigue with a servant against her mother, but she had to ensure that there were no questions asked about what she had been doing. If her mother’s lady’s maid learnt where she had been, it would instantly be reported.

  As she walked on down the street, Susanna told herself that she was living in a dream and what had just happened was only a part of it and nothing true or substantial.

  How could she really accept a position as a reader to a strange man?

  How could she leave her home and go abroad to Florence, or anywhere else, without telling her father and mother and inevitably bringing a storm of protest and anger down on her head ?

  But what was the alternative?

  To stay and marry the Duke of Southampton?

  She knew that her mother had not spoken idly when she said that she had chosen the Duke as a future son-in-law and whatever obstacles might arise she would get her own way.

  ‘Mama always does,’ Susanna told herself with a sigh, ‘and, if she has the slightest suspicion that I am doing anything like this, she will prevent it even if it means that she has to lock me in my bedroom until the moment I walk up the aisle.’

  “There is no use fighting Mama,” Henry had said once when he had been forbidden to do something he longed to do. “She always wins. She is like a juggernaut that runs one over!”

  It was a good description, Susanna thought, and she knew that she had been juggernauted by her mother all her life and it would be quite impossible for her to stand up against her n
ow.

  ‘All the same how can I go off on my own? It’s a crazy idea!’ Susanna thought.

  But the alternative was to become like May, crushed, miserable and the property of a man who at least found her attractive, while the Duke –

  Susanna had no need to speculate any further. She was well aware what the Duke would feel about her, fat plain and the last person who ought to be a Duchess.

  She knew that apart from the Duke, people they would entertain on her money would snigger about her behind her back, even if they made a pretence of fawning to her face.

  There was no loyalty amongst her mother’s friends except on the principle of keeping up appearances.

  In that they excelled in supporting each other and uniting in a common front against any criticism from the world outside their own particular circle.

  ‘How can I do such a thing?’

  ‘How can I?’

  Susanna’s footsteps seemed to echo the question over and over again.

  But by the time she reached the front door of Lavenham House their refrain had changed,

  ‘I will do it! I will do it! I will do it!”

  *

  Susanna reached Victoria Station soon after nine o’clock. She knew that she was early and, as she expected, there was no servant yet waiting outside the Station for her. However a porter escorted her to the private coaches attached to the boat train.

  There were two of them and the Stewards seemed rather flustered that she should be here before anyone else. But when she apologised they found her a comfortable place to sit and brought her a cup of coffee and a plate of sweet biscuits.

  She certainly needed something to still the agitation in her breast.

  It seemed to her impossible that she had got away so easily and she knew that she would not feel really safe until the train had actually left the Station.

  When she had gone back to the house yesterday morning with James, she had run upstairs to her bedroom and found, as she had hoped, the note she had put outside her door with Do not Disturb on it was still there.

  This meant that she had not been called and no one except for James would realise that she had left the house.

  She then undressed quickly, climbed into bed and rang the bell.

  “I wondered what made you sleep so late, miss,” the maid had said who came to draw the curtains.

  “I awoke with a headache, Mary,” Susanna replied, “and thought it best to sleep it off.”

  “Quite right, miss, and nobody’s missed you, so to speak. Her Ladyship’s not had her breakfast yet and I’ll bring you yours.”

  “That would be very kind, Mary,” Susanna had answered. “I am in no hurry to be up.”

  When she was dressed, it was to find that her mother intended to drive alone in Hyde Park and did not wish her to accompany her.

  “I shall also be out for luncheon,” Lady Lavenham said, “and if you have any fittings you had better take Mrs. Dawes with you. I am sick to death of your clothes and I cannot say that any of them do much for you!”

  She looked disparagingly at her daughter as she spoke and Susanna said apologetically.

  “I am afraid that is the truth, Mama, while the same gown on you would make you look as if you stepped straight down from Mount Olympus!”

  Lady Lavenham was pleased at the compliment, but at the same time there was still a frown between her beautiful eyes as she looked at her daughter.

  “I cannot think who you resemble,” she reflected. “Your father’s mother was a most distinguished-looking woman and mine, as you well know, was a beauty.”

  “Perhaps I am a changeling,” Susanna murmured.

  It was something she had often thought herself.

  “It would not surprise me,” Lady Lavenham snapped, “but the problem still remains as to what I can do to make you look more presentable.”

  “There is nothing, Mama, so I should forget about it.”

  “I wish I could,” Lady Lavenham said. “Never mind, I have plans, so you can leave everything to me.”

  Susanna knew only too well what those plans were and the knowledge made her harden her heart when she later wrote a note to her mother.

  It took her some time to decide what she should write before she began,

  “I have decided, Mama, that I am not suited for the Social world nor do I wish to marry anyone. I have therefore gone away to stay with friends and decide what my future will be.

  I shall be quite safe and I do not wish you to worry about me and I promise you I can look after myself.

  Please forgive me for any worry or anxiety I am causing you and do not try to find me, for I have no intention of returning home until the Season is over.”

  Susanna thought that there were quite a number of other things she could say but, knowing her mother’s dislike of reading long letters, she merely added,

  “With love both to you and Papa, I remain your affectionate daughter,

  Susanna.”

  She had thought of putting ‘your affectionate and disobedient daughter’, but decided that her mother would not find it amusing. Lady Lavenham had very little sense of humour.

  Because her mother was out to luncheon and she was alone, it was easy for Susanna to carry out the next step, which might have been much more difficult.

  She knew that as soon as she had finished in the dining room the servants would assemble in the basement for their own meal and this was her opportunity to carry her trunk down from the attic where it had been taken by the footmen after their arrival in London.

  It was impossible for her to carry one of the larger leather-topped trunks, which weighed quite a considerable amount, but she could manage two smaller ones by sliding them down the stairs.

  She took them into her bedroom and secreted them in the wardrobe, hoping that Mary would not see them if she laid out the afternoon dress that she should change into at teatime and then chose an evening gown to wear.

  Once again luck was on her side because her father and mother were out for dinner and Susanna persuaded Mary to bring her up a tray with something light to eat at seven o’clock.

  “I still have a bit of a headache, Mary,” she said, “so don’t disturb me. I will put the tray outside the door and then try to get some sleep.”

  “That’s a good idea, miss, and I hopes you’re not sickenin’ for somethin’,” Mary fussed over her. “It’d be terrible if you had measles or somethin’ like that just when you’re goin’ to be presented to the King and Queen.”

  Susanna did not answer and Mary added,

  “And her Ladyship’d be angry too if all those lovely gowns she’s bought you are wasted!”

  “I am sure I am not having measles,” Susanna said, “just a tiresome headache. Perhaps it is something I have eaten.”

  “Too many chocolates, miss, gives one indigestion and makes you awful fat.”

  “I know, Mary, but I find I cannot resist them. Miss Harding used to scold me for being greedy.”

  “I expect you miss Miss Harding,” Mary quizzed her.

  “I do, I miss her terribly,” Susanna agreed.

  When she was alone, she wondered if she would not have been wiser to follow her first impulse and go to Miss Harding to tell her about her mother’s plans for her to marry the Duke of Southampton.

  But if she had done so, what could Miss Harding do about it? It was not really fair to burden her with her troubles when she had new pupils and a new place to cope with.

  ‘She told me that I had to stand on my own two feet and look after myself and that is exactly what I am doing,’ Susanna whispered to herself.

  She locked the door and started to pack her trunks. She saw no reason why the clothes that had been paid for out of her own Trust should be left behind.

  Besides, though she had a certain amount of ready money, she knew that it would be a mistake to be extravagant in case she intended to stay abroad after her employment with Mr. Dunblane came to an end.

  She had g
one to her mother’s secretary as soon as Lady Lavenham had left the house and asked her for thirty pounds.

  “Whatever do you want so much money for?” Miss McKay had asked.

  “I have some books to buy,” Susanna replied, “and a present I particularly want to give Mama and I want some gloves and a number of other things that are very expensive from a shop in Bond Street where we do not have an account.”

  “That’s all right,” Miss McKay said, “I did not mean to be inquisitive, but it just seemed a lot of money to carry about with you.”

  “I will not be carrying it for long,” Susanna replied, “and then I shall be back again for more!”

  “You’re lucky there’s more waiting for you,” the secretary said. “The money that’s spent in this house and at Lavenham Park at times makes my hair curl!”

  “We are fortunate in that we can afford it,” Susanna smiled.

  “That’s certainly the truth,” the secretary replied.

  Susanna had the idea that Miss McKay was rather envious and she thought that it must be a miserable life always handling other people’s money when one had very little of one’s own.

  “I have a book in my bedroom. Miss McKay, that I think you might enjoy. I would like to give it to you,” she then said.

  “It is very kind of you, but I have no time for reading. When I get home at night, I have my old mother to look after. She is practically bedridden and I have to cook her a meal, clean the house and get everything ready to be back here first thing in the morning.”

  It was the first time that Miss McKay had spoken so frankly and Susanna felt guilty that she had always thought of her as a sort of automaton and not really a human being.

  When she had gone upstairs to put the thirty pounds away in her purse, she had sat down at her desk and written a note to her father asking him to give Miss McKay twenty-five pounds of her own money.

  “She needs it, Papa, and I should be very grateful if you will carry out my wishes in this matter. Please forgive me for upsetting you and Mama, but I have to go away to think things over.”