A Hazard of Hearts

by Barbara Cartland

  She found it hard to look at him as she spoke. Her heart was beating almost suffocatingly and she was afraid, desperately afraid, that he would read her secret in her eyes.

  She steeled herself to speak slowly and with a distinct coldness. Not for a moment must she forget that it was La Flamme who interested Justin and that she must never, never humiliate herself by letting him know how much he mattered to her.

  “Will you sit down, Serena?” Justin asked. He hesitated for a moment and then he added, “I wish to speak with you.”

  She obeyed him, choosing a rather stiff, upright chair and sitting with her back straight, her hands clasped together in her lap as if she was a child attending to a lesson.

  She fancied there was a faint smile at the corners of Justin’s lips as he looked at her, but when he spoke, his voice was grave.

  “Serena – ” he began, “I deeply appreciate your action in coming here last night. I have learned from my valet that one of my grooms, a silly excitable fellow, rushed to Mandrake after he had seen me bowled over by the shot fired from Lord Wrotham’s pistol. It was the blast that caught me, the bullet itself has made but a faint flesh wound in my arm. I turned, hearing the referee shout and, as I did so, a flash from the pistol caught me off my balance. Perhaps it was as well that it did or I might have been more seriously injured.”

  “It was a monstrous action,” Serena said, “and – what happened to – his Lordship?”

  “Lord Wrotham has, I understand, left for Holland. If he returns, he will doubtless retire to his country seat. St. James’s will know him no longer.”

  “Oh, I am – glad.”

  Serena’s voice was a little breathless.

  “He will not trouble you again,” Justin said, “but unfortunately the consequences of his crime are far-reaching.”

  “What do you mean?” Serena enquired.

  “I mean,” Justin continued, “that his Lordship’s ill-considered treachery and Jansen’s impulsiveness were responsible for bringing you to London. A brave action, Serena, and one that I commend in all humbleness. At the same time you forgot that I am living here as a bachelor.”

  He paused for a moment as if to let his meaning sink in and Serena raised her eyes.

  “I – don’t understand.”

  “You stayed here last night,” Justin said very gently, as if explaining something to a small child. “It was impossible to make any other arrangements at so late an hour. Besides, when you arrived I was entertaining some friends, gentlemen friends of my acquaintance. The story of your arrival, of your resolution in coming unattended from Mandrake, will by now be the talk of the Clubs. It is impossible, as you well know, to prevent people talking.”

  “You mean, that I should not have – come?”

  “I mean nothing of the sort,” Justin said firmly. “What I am trying to tell you is that your arrival, courageous, if a little unexpected, merely necessitates us moving a trifle more swiftly than we have been inclined to do these past weeks. In short, Serena, it is time that we made haste to settle our lives, yours and mine.”

  Serena’s hands moved convulsively from her lap to her breast.

  “You mean – ?” she faltered.

  “That I have made arrangements for our marriage to take place immediately,” Justin said. “I have procured a Special Licence and the Vicar of St George’s Church in Hanover Square is waiting for us.”

  Serena sprang to her feet.

  Her face was suddenly drained of all colour and then, as she stared at Justin, he reached out his hand and took her fingers gently in his.

  “I have the very great honour, Serena,” he said quietly, “to ask you to become my wife.”

  For a moment her fingers quivered in his as if she would snatch them from him and then she was very still.

  It seemed to her as if her heart was beating so hard that it must burst through the confines of her body. At the same time she felt dazed, too dazed to reply, too bewildered to do anything but stand there with her hand in his, her face turned aside so that he should not see her eyes.

  “Well, Serena?”

  His voice was low and yet she somehow sensed that he was impatient.

  “It – it shall be – as you desire, my Lord,” she stammered.

  She felt his fingers suddenly tighten on hers, was conscious of the strength of him and of that strange magnetism which she had known before, compelling her against her will to raise her eyes to his, but even as she resisted him, even as she fought against something invisible and unspoken, the door of the room opened.

  Instantly Justin’s hand released hers and she was free.

  “Sir Peter Burley, my Lord,” the butler announced.

  Sir Peter, dressed exquisitely in a coat of bottle green, came into the room.

  “Justin, dear fellow, I hope I am not late,” he said, “that clumsy manservant of mine was as fat-fingered as hell with my neck-cloth this morning.”

  He crossed the room to Serena’s side, lifting her fingers to his lips.

  “Your servant, Miss Staverley.”

  “I am glad to see you, Peter,” Justin said and, turning to Serena, he added, “Sir Peter has promised to act in the capacity of Best Man at our marriage.”

  It was with difficulty that Serena prevented herself from giving a cry. It was too much for Justin to speak openly of their marriage as if it was something that had been arranged for some time.

  As if he sensed her discomfiture, Justin said quietly,

  “We shall be leaving in a few minutes for the Church.”

  Serena murmured something incoherent and sped from the room. She ran up the flight of stairs and burst into her bedroom. Eudora was tidying away her clothes.

  Serena flung her arms round her and half-laughing and half-sobbing, she said,

  “Oh, Eudora, I am to be – married. I am leaving now, this minute, for the Church! What shall I do? How can – I bear it?”

  “I know, dearie,” Eudora said. “His Lordship’s valet told me that his Lordship had gone off early this mornin’ to obtain a Licence.”

  “You knew?” Serena gasped. “And you did not tell me?”

  “No, dearie, it was for his Lordship to do that. But oh, Miss Serena, I am so glad for you. His Lordship is a fine man and a decent one, for all that there are those who say the contrary. You will be happy with him, I am sure of that! I was blind with hate when we went to Mandrake, but since we have been there I have learned many things. Her Ladyship is as bad as can be, but his Lordship is a different story. He will look after you, my little dear, and you need not be afraid of him.”

  “Afraid of him!”

  Serena whispered the words and turned away towards the dressing table.

  How could she explain to anyone, even Eudora, that she loved Justin, loved him so desperately that it was agony to be beside him and agony to know that he did not love her?

  She could but remember that woman’s hand on his knee and see the rounded loveliness of her throat as she flung back her head to look up into his eyes.

  Serena drew a deep breath.

  The only thing left for her was pride, she still had that. Whatever happened, she would never let him know, never reveal what lay within her heart until the day came, if come it ever did, when he loved her too. One thing she would never ask of him was pity. That would be too much to bear.

  If they were married, maybe he would learn to care for her, maybe as time went by she would become necessary to him.

  She remembered how Lord Wrotham had said that he was bored with love and she vowed that she would never risk boring Justin with her love. If he wanted it, he must seek it.

  As she looked at herself in the mirror, Serena instinctively straightened her shoulders and raised her chin a little.

  The strenuous events of yesterday had left no mark upon her beauty. Her eyes were a little tired perhaps and she was paler than usual, but the pallor was peculiarly becoming, especially in a bride.

  Eudora rearranged her fa
ir curls and fetched from the cupboard a bonnet of chip straw, trimmed with blue ribbons and three azure blue feathers. Serena tied the ribbons under her chin and, taking her handkerchief, stood up for Eudora’s inspection.

  “You’re lovely!” Eudora exclaimed. “Lovely, my sweet dear, my child whom I have loved since you were but a tiny babe.”

  “Oh, Eudora!”

  Serena put her arms round the little woman, felt tears shake her body and turned away to hide her own. There was no time to say anything more and there was no time to cry.

  As she reached the door, she heard Eudora call,

  “Good luck! God bless you now and always.”

  Eudora’s lips were smiling, although her eyes were blinded with tears.

  Serena came down the stairs. Justin and Sir Peter were waiting for her in the hall.

  Outside in the square she could see the big claret and silver coach drawn by a pair of perfectly matched white horses.

  Justin offered Serena his arm, she placed the tips of her fingers on it and he led her from the house. They sat side by side on the claret satin seat of the coach and Sir Peter sat opposite them.

  “’Tis only a short distance,” Sir Peter remarked.

  The footman closed the door and sprang up behind.

  “Will you carry these?” Justin said quietly to Serena, taking from the seat beside Sir Peter a bouquet of white flowers.

  There were roses, orchids and lilies-of-the-valley.

  Serena raised them to her face.

  “How beautiful!” she exclaimed. “Thank – you.”

  “And they are as fresh and fragrant as the bride herself,” Sir Peter piped up gallantly.

  Serena smiled at him.

  “I have no words to answer such flattery, Sir Peter.”

  “There’s not flattery but truth in what I say,” Sir Peter protested. “It would be impossible to draw too long a bow, eh, Justin?”

  But Justin did not answer.

  Yet Serena knew that he was watching her and she felt her cheeks flush, so that to hide her confusion she bent her head low over the flowers.

  He said nothing until they arrived at St. George’s Church. The coach drew up and the footman opened the door. Sir Peter alighted first.

  Serena would have followed him, but, as she moved, her eyes looked into Justin’s and were held. They both were very still for a long second and then he said,

  “It is not too late if you would rather draw back.”

  She felt her pulses throb suddenly.

  At this eleventh hour was it his desire to be rid of her?

  Then she saw that there was consideration in the expression on his face and an unexpected gentleness in his eyes.

  There was something else too, but she did not dare to think about it.

  “Draw back?” she repeated, realising that he was waiting for her answer.

  He made a sudden movement.

  “No, no,” he said, almost as if he spoke to himself rather than to her. “It was but a passing thought.”

  They alighted from the coach.

  At the door of the Church the Priest was waiting for them. It seemed to Serena from that moment as if she was made of ice, incapable of all feeling.

  Someone else, someone who wore her body yet was not herself made the responses, held out her hand to Justin and felt him place the ring on her finger. Someone else, cool, detached and utterly composed, went from the grey sanctity of the Church to the Vestry and signed the Register.

  Someone equally at ease placed her hand on Justin’s arm and was led from the Church and back to the waiting coach.

  It was only when once more the three of them were travelling back to Grosvenor Square that she became alive again.

  The numb feeling passed and the composure that had carried her through serenely and without any inner disturbance began to evaporate.

  Now she was conscious once again of the thumping of her heart, of something quivering and sensitive within herself. She was afraid and yet enchanted.

  She did not speak to Justin on the homeward journey. Sir Peter chattered away gaily and Serena made no attempt to listen to what he said and was well aware that he thought her silence was due to a becoming shyness.

  In Vulcan House the servants were lined up in the hall to greet them. The butler, slow, pompous and unassailably dignified, was the spokesman.

  “On behalf of the staff, my Lord, may I offer your Lordship our most hearty congratulations and add our heartfelt good wishes for her Ladyship’s and your own long and continued happiness.”

  Justin thanked them in a few appropriate words and then he and Serena shook hands with all the servants from the housekeeper in her stiff black silk dress down to the goggle-eyed pantry boys and the scullery maids who giggled a little from sheer nerves.

  Wine and sweet cakes were waiting for them in the library. Sir Peter toasted them both and again Justin replied, then luncheon was served and they all three lunched together.

  Surprisingly Serena found herself laughing and unexpectedly at ease.

  “If only Gilly was here,” Sir Peter said. “He will be as mad as fire at missing your wedding, Justin.”

  Serena gave a little start.

  There was someone else too who would be angry. Isabel! What would she say when she heard the news?

  She glanced apprehensively at Justin, but he was smiling at Sir Peter and apparently he too had forgotten Isabel.

  When luncheon was over, Sir Peter made his farewells.

  Then at last they were alone. Serena was acutely conscious of how alone they were as the morning room door closed and Justin rose from the chair where he had been sitting and stood in front of the fireplace.

  There was a moment’s silence, a long moment it seemed to Serena, and then he spoke,

  “I am expecting the doctor in a few moments. After he has gone, we can discuss our plans for the future. As a bride you are entitled to a honeymoon, you know.”

  There was something in the way he said the words that brought the blood to Serena’s cheeks and then, even as she would have spoken, the butler opened the door and announced that the doctor had arrived.

  “You will excuse me,” Justin said with a little bow.

  He was gone and she was alone. Yes, alone, as she had never been before. She knew that now, knew, as she sat with her hands to her eyes, that this was a loneliness such as she had never known before.

  Far worse than the loneliness she had experienced when she had left Staverley, worse than anything that her life to date had prepared her for. To love and to be alone in one’s loving was indeed to know a solitude and a desolation beyond words.

  She walked to the window.

  A beggar outside had a tiny monkey attached to him by a chain. The monkey jumped onto the pavement and held out its small brown wizened hand to a passers-by. Two men passed without even glancing at it and the beggar jerked the chain impatiently. The monkey, chattering, sprang back onto his shoulder.

  Serena watched, but, although her eyes saw what was going on, her mind was otherwise preoccupied.

  It was a warm and sultry day, yet dull, but now a shaft of sunshine came through the low clouds and shone on the garden in the square, on the shivering underfed monkey and his ragged Master and in at the windows of Vulcan House.

  It touched Serena’s fair hair, transforming it for a moment into living gold and then glinted on a ring that encircled the third finger of her left hand.

  She caught the gleam of it and as it attracted her attention she took her hand from the curtain and turned back into the room. Her eyes were drawn almost as if it was against her will to the narrow band of gold.

  She stared at it for a long moment before she made a strangled sound that was almost a sob in her throat.

  Uneasily she glanced towards the end of the room where there were big double mahogany doors. They were closed, but through them she could hear the murmur of voices. She stood for a moment listening and then she sat down in a chair. She tried t
o force herself to be calm and to steel the restlessness of her fast-beating heart, which made her afraid to think, afraid even to contemplate all that the ring – plain and ungarish as it was – meant –

  Instinctively she put both her hands up to her face and then, feeling the coolness of precious metal against her cheek, she started away from it as if it was something dangerous.

  She stared at her hand again. She half-contemplated pulling the ring from her finger, but, as her right hand went out to touch it, she knew that such an action was merely childish.

  Jumping to her feet she walked across the room and back again and then she went to the window.

  The beggar with his monkey was still there. He had been joined by another man now, an ex-soldier in a tattered dirty uniform, a black patch over his left eye and a stump of wood where his right leg should have been. The men were arguing and it seemed likely that at any moment a quarrel would break out between them.

  Indifferently Serena turned from the window.

  How long the doctor was! She wanted him to be finished so that she could speak with Justin, and yet – yet she shrank from the very idea. Justin – who was now her husband!

  The thought was impossible and yet it had happened. How little she had imagined yesterday that today she would be wearing his ring and would be entitled to bear his name.

  Once again Serena’s hands crept up to her face and now they stayed there, her fingers over her closed eyes.

  Yes, she was entitled to bear Justin’s name, but how little it altered the great gulf yawning between them.

  Hearing the deep tones of Justin’s voice in the next room even though she could not distinguish what he said, she felt a sudden wild desire to rush to him, to fling herself on her knees before him and to tell him all that was in her heart.

  She almost heard her own words tumbling over themselves and felt them warm and pulsating with the yearning that was within her. Probably he would put his arm round her and lift her a little so that her head would rest on his shoulder as it had done once before.

  She felt her whole body quiver at the thought of his hands, of the strength of his arms and of his lips –

  Suddenly Serena sprang to her feet.

  She must not think like this, she must control her body and control the aching desire in every limb that cried aloud for Justin.