Never Doubt I Love

by Patricia Veryan

  Smiling at a maid who bobbed a curtsy as they passed, Zoe exclaimed, "Goodness me! I wonder why they did not simply move into a castle."

  "May ladies were most fond of their ancestral home," murmured Gorton, "which was burnt. Although they could not do so on the outside, they tried to make the inside of this house as like it as possible. Even, so they say, to the secret passages and priest's hole. Here are Lady Yerville's quarters."

  The passage ended at a pair of closed doors beside which a cadaverously thin lackey with a mournful expression waited.

  Gorton said, "Miss Grainger is expected, Phipps."

  His sad blue eyes scanned Zoe curiously, then he rested his ear against one of the doors for a moment before opening it with slow caution. He peered inside, then stood back.

  "Go on, Miss!" urged Gorton on a note of urgency. "Quick!"

  Zoe slipped past.

  The door clicked shut behind her.

  She whipped around and was dismayed to find that Gorton and Phipps had remained outside. It was foolish, but her heart began to pound faster and she found herself tiptoeing as she walked on.

  Only the chiming of a clock sounding the quarter hour broke the stillness. The passage stretched out before her, seeming at first much the same as the one she'd just left. She came to realize, however, that this area was even more museum-like, and there was a decidedly musty smell on the air. Probably, she decided, from the tapestries, for there were many of those, some faded and curling with age, alternating with great banners and more paintings. A suit of armour was set in a shallow alcove; a war axe hung above a fine Italian dagger complete with furnishings. Looking at all the curiosities, Zoe heard six chimes in a deeper tone than the clock that had sounded the quarter-hour. Neither had been right. Even the clocks, she thought, were behind the times. A moment later yet another peal announced the half-hour. Zoe's amusement vanished and she gave a squeak of fright as she trod on a small ball, skidded, and almost fell. She was relieved when a footman hurried from an open doorway to offer his hand and murmur apologies.

  "They should have seen fit to let me know you was here, Miss," he grumbled. "My lady is wai—"

  A small ginger and white cat shot from another open door and raced past at frenzied speed. There came a sudden pounding, scrambling noise, and a deep, terrifying growling. The footman gave a shout and leapt aside. Her heart in her mouth, Zoe shrank against the wall as an enormous black and white hound thundered straight at her. Its claws slipped on the polished boards, and the powerful back legs slid from under it. The floor shook. A narrow table was slammed against the wall and a marble urn toppled. With a bark that rattled the suit of armour, the hound recovered itself, and tore in pursuit of the cat.

  "Oh, my heavens!" cried Zoe, distressed. "The poor little moggy will be killed!"

  Muttering something under his breath about "reducing the livestock," the footman straightened the urn, then said blandly, "That was Charlemagne, Miss. It'll be all right. It's his cat. This way."

  He stalked off, and Zoe followed, wondering who "he" might be, and why it had never occurred to her that there might be a Lord Yerville.

  Such speculation ended when she was ushered into a spacious parlour.

  "Miss Grainger, milady," announced the footman, and withdrew, closing the door softly.

  Fine rugs were spread on the polished floors; mauve and white hangings tied back with gold ropes were at the windows. A curio cabinet, two bookcases, and a fine escritoire were white. Two graceful white chairs covered in mauve velvet were set to one side of the Italian marble fireplace, on the mantelpiece of which stood a splendid gilt tower clock. There were more clocks in the curio cabinet and on the escritoire, each one ticking away busily. All this Zoe noted in fragmentary fashion as she approached the gold brocade chaise lounge set before the windows. Lady Julia Yerville reclined there, book in hand. She wore a white satin negligee trimmed with blonde lace. A dainty matching cap was tied over her neat wig. A tabby cat sprawled on her lap, and a big liver and white spaniel lying at the foot of the chaise lifted its head and looked at Zoe, its tail thumping a welcome. The large black cat she had met yesterday was perched, Sphinx-like, on the window seat, and a small white terrier that had been lying nearby jumped up emitting shrill barks and expressing its mistrust of the new arrival by a series of hysterical charges and retreats.

  "Boadicea, hush!" cried my lady, lowering her book.

  Boadicea instead became more strident, so that Lady Julia clapped her hands and said a sharp, "Bo! That will do!"

  Annoyed, the tabby abandoned her lap to resettle itself in a sunny spot on the rug. Boadicea cowered and fled to the window seat where she crouched, growling, behind the black cat, who ignored her and continued to watch the proceedings with aloof boredom.

  "My apologies," said Lady Julia with a rueful smile. "Pray do not be alarmed, Miss Grainger. My friends will soon get to know you."

  A beam of sunlight touched the white satin negligee so that the frail lady seemed almost to glow. Zoe thought her ethereally lovely, and she came forward shyly to make her curtsy and clasp the fine-boned hand that was extended to her.

  Her ladyship indicated a nearby chair and said in her gentle voice, "Do sit down, my dear. How very pretty you look this morning. I am so glad to see that Hermione's garments fit you. My sister was sure they would. Ah, you look mystified. The fact is that my cousin's youngest child was to have come as companion to me, but she was reluctant, so Lady Clara ordered a complete new wardrobe sewn to entice her. Alas, the prospect of waiting upon an invalid dimmed the lure of new fashions. I do not blame Hermione at all for refusing such a glorious opportunity." Patting Zoe's hand, she said with a twinkle, "Are you offended to be offered garments intended for another lady?"

  Zoe was relieved rather than offended. "Not at all, ma'am. In fact, I had wondered that Lady Buttershaw should have ordered so many garments for me. As if, you know, she had been sure for some time that I would come. It seemed…"

  "A presumption? Or perhaps that she could see into the future? Fie upon me, for dispelling so lovely a mystery!"

  As she spoke a clock chimed four times. For the first time Zoe realized that there were actually six clocks in the room, only one of which displayed the correct time.

  Lady Julia said, "Ah, you have noted my clocks. 'Tis one of my hobbies. I shall tell you all about it later. We have plenty of time. If you will forgive the play on words."

  They laughed together, and the spaniel pulled himself up and came over, tail wriggling, to sniff at Zoe's shoes and permit himself to be stroked.

  "There," said Lady Julia. "Cromwell has accepted you already. But I must introduce you to the rest of them. The cat Boadicea hides behind is Attila—you will remember him from yesterday. The tabby is called Caesar. My little ginger pussycat, Charlemagne, and the largest of my pets, Viking, are somewhere about."

  "They—er, passed me in the passage," said Zoe. "I see that I must have misunderstood. I thought your footman said that the ginger cat belongs to a gentleman."

  "A gentleman, is it?" Amused, my lady shook her head. "I doubt he rates so dignified an appellation! 'Ruffian' would be more apropos, and he can upon occasion be very rough indeed! But I am being naughty and confusing you again, poor child. The thing is, you see, that the three dogs were all gifts as puppies, whereas the cats, as cats will, adopted me from time to time. I was fearful for their safety at first, but the strange thing is that as each cat came into my life, it chose a dog for itself as one might choose a friend and protector. I know that sounds unlikely, but ''Tis really so. Little Boadicea is Attila's dog, and Cromwell here, my most amiable spaniel, belongs to Caesar, the tabby."

  Zoe asked in awe, "Then do you say, ma'am, that the tiny little ginger cat chose that enormous black and white hound?"

  "Viking." Lady Julia nodded. "Just so. Is it not quaint? Charley—or Charlemagne, to be precise, teases Viking constantly. Truly, I marvel that the mischievous creature has not been savaged. But although Viking chas
es him ferociously, he has never yet done more than make a great deal of noise, and they are actually inseparable. If Charley wanders off, sooner or later Viking will go in search of him. ''Tis most amusing to see their antics, I promise you. But enough of my pets. We must learn about each other. My life, alas, is dull, for I never married and have no children to fill my days. My uncle, the present earl, allows me to live in this house for my lifetime. Lady Clara had a large home, but she is childless, and when her husband went to his reward she moved back here." She smiled and said confidingly, "She worries about me, you know, although I am not nearly so frail as she chooses to believe. Even so, my health does not permit that I go about very much. Fortunately, I have friends who are faithful, bless them, and call upon me, so that I am not altogether out of the world. Have you friends, Miss Grainger?"

  "Oh, yes, my lady. My best friend married last year, and went out to the Americas with her husband." Zoe stifled a sigh. "I miss her. But that is the way for young ladies." Here, recollecting Lady Julia's single state, she blushed hotly, and stammered, "N-not always, of course. Some ladies are not inclined towards—towards matrimony. Indeed, Papa says that I am well on the way to becoming—" She had done it again! Biting her lip with mortification, she choked the words off.

  Lady Julia chuckled. "Becoming what? An old maid? Nonsense! You were born to be loved by some lucky man. And do not be thinking that the single state is mine by choice. I was betrothed to a gentleman I adored, and who loved me as deeply. We were about to be wed, in fact, when…" The brilliant light blue eyes became closed and remote suddenly. She finished in a far-away voice, "There was a—a terrible… accident."

  Acutely embarrassed, Zoe said, "Yes, ma'am. Lady Buttershaw told me of the fire. I am so sorry, but you were spared any—I mean, there is no sign of—" She floundered, and gulped, "You are very pretty, ma'am."

  "How kind." The wistful eyes saw her again. "I will tell you about it, though, so that you do not have to wonder, or feel sad for my sake. He was young and very handsome, you see. A vital, healthy man from a noble house. He had to have heirs; sons to follow him and carry on the name. And my life was despaired of, so…" She shrugged and gave a wry smile.

  Aghast, Zoe exclaimed, "Do you say he drew back? No, surely not? If ever I heard of such a thing!"

  Lady Julia unbuttoned her cuff and rolled up her left sleeve. Zoe could not restrain a gasp. The arm was red and shiny, the skin puckered and cruelly scarred. "My face and hands were not marked," said my lady, "but much of me is—as you see. How could I blame him?"

  Zoe exclaimed fiercely, "I could blame him! If you love someone you do not abandon them only because they are ill, or—or hurt, through no fault of their own! Had he been burned or crippled or something of the sort, I am very sure you would have stood by him! I vow, you are well rid of—of such a fair-weather friend, ma'am, and will find another suitor who is far more worthy of such a sweet and pretty lady! Not all gentlemen are so lacking in character. I know my brother would never behave in such a way!"

  Lady Julia, who had listened to this impassioned speech with increasing amusement, now gave a little trill of laughter and held out her arms. "You dear, warm-hearted girl! What a fine champion I have found. Come, and let me hug you! Oh, we are going to go along splendidly, I know it. Now, sit here beside me, and tell me all about this gallant brother of yours. Is he at school? Shall I have the pleasure of meeting him soon?"

  Returning that scented embrace, Zoe sat where her ladyship indicated, and with very little coaxing was soon telling her all about Travisford and Papa, and her beloved Travis.

  The moments slipped away. Lady Julia watched the bright, animated young face, and inserted a question from time to time. And, listening, she could envision the rambling old house, the silver ribbon of the river, the kind but foolish father, the beloved brother. After a while, the big black cat, Attila, jumped up and appropriated my lady's lap. The little white terrier, Boadicea, at once came over to fuss and fidget about Zoe resentfully, but settled down when Lady Julia extended a quieting hand.

  The door opened softly. A tall elegantly attired gentleman looked in and raised an enquiring eyebrow. Over Zoe's shoulder, my lady met his glance, and shook her head slightly. The gentleman withdrew, and the door was closed as softly as it had been opened. The spaniel, who had started to the door, barked. A frown flickered across my lady's face, and Zoe glanced around.

  "Oh, how I have run on," she said. "You should not let me waste your time, ma'am."

  "But you did no such thing. I have thoroughly enjoyed our chat. Cromwell likely heard someone arriving, and they will wait, never fear. Tell me now, do you think you will like to stay here? I promise not to burden you with many duties, for my hobbies keep me very occupied, and my friends are always coming and going. Sometimes, I will want you to read to me, but mostly, I will ask that you take care of my pets; groom them, and take them for walks, and keep them from bothering Lady Clara, for she is not fond of animals. You will have plenty of time for rides in the park, and shopping, and if there is some special entertainment I wish to go to, you shall accompany me. What do you think? Will it suit?"

  It would, said Zoe fervently, suit very well indeed.

  And so, for a while, it did. The sisters had not exaggerated when they'd said there would be few demands on her time. Lady Julia told her kindly to spend the first few days exploring the great house and identifying the servants. At some time each day, she was summoned to brush the cats or take one or other of the dogs for a walk, or to talk to Lady Julia while she rested in the afternoon. The frail lady was unfailingly kind and gentle. She betrayed a flattering interest in Zoe's childhood and in her life at Travisford which sounded, she said wistfully, so jolly compared to her own rigidly controlled youth. "I have never climbed a tree in all my days," she sighed. "Never played rounders with other girls and boys; never galloped a pony over country meadows, or gone for long walks with a beloved brother and his friends. Mama and Papa were very strict, you see, and they moved in such select circles that Clara and I were always obliged to be models of propriety."

  The picture of such a restricted way of life appalled Zoe, although she could not but wonder that anyone would judge Lady Buttershaw to be a "model of propriety." She saw that formidable grande dame seldom during these early days, for Lady Buttershaw seemed always to be rushing off to some function or other, usually with Hackham, her personal footman, in attendance. On the few occasions that they met, Lady Buttershaw would have many suggestions for the improvement of Zoe's dress and deportment. She also showed an interest in life at Travisford, but her remarks were invariably disparaging, and she lost no opportunity to criticize Mr. Grainger and his son, both of whom she felt had been remiss in failing to ensure that Zoe be properly instructed and given a London Season. Zoe found herself constantly obliged to defend her father and to regale the lady with accounts of Travis' scholarly achievements and of her sure belief that honours must attend his diplomatic career. This became rather tiresome. Fortunately, however, her ladyship's voice was exercised the instant she crossed the threshold. Zoe noticed that when those piercing tones were heard, the passages would quickly empty of all the servants who dared escape, and she lost no time in following their example.

  The promised rides with Lady Julia had not as yet materialized, but Zoe kept busily occupied. The house was a regular museum of artifacts, all having to do with England's history, and the large part the family Yerville appeared to have played in it. She spent her free time in wandering about the mansion, and wrote long letters home and to her brother, telling of her discoveries.

  After the first excruciating evening spent dining with and being "educated" by Lady Buttershaw, she was not sorry to be left to take her meals alone. But the breakfast parlour was large and silent, the butler watted on her with quiet efficiency, and she found solitude to be, after all, not much of an improvement over Lady Buttershaw's trumpeted monologues.

  Following an excellent meal on her fourth evening at Yervill
e Hall, she wandered into the book room. It was vast and chilly, with no fire on the hearth. The room was not pitch dark, for the moon was up and painting the rug with its silver rays, but there was no sign of the lackey who should have come to light candles for her.

  She crossed to the window and looked out. The street was bright with the glow of the flambeaux that blazed on each side of the entrance. The square was deserted, and the little garden at the centre looked dark and mysterious. A coach came rattling up the street, and stopped outside. The footman sprang down and threw open the door, and three gentlemen alighted. They were laughing and talking cheerily, and Zoe watched them, envying their good-fellowship as they started up the steps. She could tell when the front doors were opened, for the increased light shone across the pavement and cobblestones, and deepened the shadows in the central garden. How differently things appeared at night time; one of those shadows might almost be the figure of a man… Curious, she moved closer to the window. It was someone, for the figure had drawn hack quickly, as if fearing to be seen. The light faded as the front doors were closed. The coach rolled away, and the street was quiet again. There was no sign of anyone in the central garden now, and although she stood there for at least five minutes, she could detect no more movement.

  Perhaps she had imagined it, after all. Perhaps it had just been a trick of light and shadow. Or it might simply have been a servant from one of the great houses, walking his master's pet, even as she had done earlier. But surely by this time he would have opened the gate and left, or at least have moved about? And why would a servant, who had every right to be there, have behaved in so furtive a way? If it was a tramp, seeking a place to spend the night, the unfortunate creature would have good cause to hide, for he would not have had the key to the gate and must have climbed the fence, and it was a crime for unauthorized persons to go into the private garden. She thought with a chill of fear, 'Perhaps 'twas a Jacobite, making his way to the Thames to take ship for France! They say there are many desperate fugitives, still in hiding!'