A Hazard of Hearts

by Barbara Cartland

  She walked around the room again and yet nothing could still the fever within her. She knew then in that moment that something must be done, something desperate, something that would prevent her doing in reality what she had imagined so wildly.

  She knew now that her love was beyond her control.

  If he touched her, if –

  Her white teeth bit into her lip. It would be impossible then not to cry out and not to reveal how much she adored him. Oh God, fool that she was, to imagine for one moment that she could keep such a secret hidden. She tried to lash herself with the thought of La Flamme and to recall all too vividly the beauty of the woman whom Justin had chosen, but even while such thoughts hurt her, she knew that when the moment came she would be capable of remembering nothing but the weakness of her own flesh and the overwhelming strength of her own desire.

  “I must escape,’ she thought wildly. ‘I must leave him! I cannot stay here!’

  But even as she thought such things, the door opened and Justin came in.

  “’Tis good news,” he said smiling, “the doctor is pleased with me. The flesh has knit and I need only keep a bandage on it. The sling is dispensed with.”

  “I am glad,” Serena said, “very – glad.”

  Her voice was small and breathless, but Justin seemed not to notice. He walked across the room to stand beside her.

  “So now,” he said quietly, “we can make our plans, you and I.”

  Serena quivered and then was very still.

  “Shall we stay here?” Justin asked. “Shall we go to Bath? Or is there any other place that you would prefer?” Still she did not answer and after a moment he said very gently, “I thought maybe you would like to visit Staverley.”

  It was then she gave a cry, a cry that to her own ears was not far from tears.

  “No, no, not – not Staverley.”

  “Then not Staverley,” Justin said gravely.

  “I-I think I – would – return to Mandrake,” Serena said wildly, feeling that she must say something and conscious of being caught in some trap from which there seemed no way out.

  “To Mandrake?” Justin said in surprise, and then added, “But, of course, if you wish it. We go together, you know – together.”

  It was then that Serena moved away from him to the window, conscious of some relief in being away from his compelling nearness even though it was but half the length of the room.

  “There is no need for us to go together,” she said in a muffled voice. “I perfectly understand the situation – and your chivalry, but there is no need to keep up the pretence when – we are alone.”

  A silence followed her words, a silence so pregnant that it was with the utmost difficulty that she prevented herself from turning round.

  And when at length he spoke there was a hint of amusement in his voice,

  “Who is talking of pretence, Serena?”

  “I am,” Serena said quickly. “Can we not be frank with each other?” she asked and now she turned again to face him. “My Lord, you have married me and I am, in the eyes of the world – your wife, but let’s not forget the conditions under which we came to know each other. You won me at a game of cards and I have paid my father’s debt. Furthermore last night I foolishly dug a pit for my own destruction. I came here unchaperoned, unattended and you have been good enough to save my reputation. Duty is satisfied on both sides, my Lord – no more is required of us.”

  As she finished speaking, Serena saw that Justin was smiling and now, without moving from his position in front of the mantelpiece, he said,

  “Come here, Serena.”

  His voice was low and deep and somehow, in spite of its command, caressing.

  For a moment she almost obeyed him instinctively and then quickly, because she was so afraid of her own desire to go to him, she answered,

  “No!”

  “No?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows, “and you have but a few minutes ago promised to obey me.”

  “What do you want of me?” Serena asked.

  “Come here and I will show you,” he answered.

  But she dared not and her hands hanging loose at her sides clenched together suddenly in the folds of her white dress so that her nails bit deep into her palms.

  “Serena,” Justin said, “I told you to come here. I want you.”

  Very very slowly she moved towards him, knowing that with every step she was walking towards her own betrayal, knowing that her heart was beating suffocatingly and that her lips were dry.

  He was waiting for her.

  There was a light in his eyes that she had seen once before. His mouth was no longer cynical and downturned, it was curved in a secret smile and then suddenly as she came within but a few feet of him and it seemed to her as if in very weakness she would run the last few steps and throw herself into his arms, pride came to her rescue.

  Wildly her brain, seeking for an avenue of escape, found one and clung to it.

  She stopped a few feet away from him behind a chair, holding onto it for support.

  “I have something to tell you, my Lord,” she said in a low voice.

  “Yes?”

  His voice was suddenly sharp as if he sensed her change of mood.

  “You asked me – once,” Serena said, her words tumbling over each other, “you asked me if I was – in love. I told you that I was not. It was the truth at the time, but now – things have changed. I – ”

  Her voice died away.

  “You are trying to tell me that you love someone,” Justin said and there was a question in his voice as if he hardly believed such a thing was possible.

  “Yes,” Serena answered. “I love someone.”

  “Who is it?” Justin snapped and then quickly covered the words. “Your pardon, I should not presume such a question. You tell me that you are in love. This is a new state of affairs, surely?”

  “Yes, my Lord, quite new.”

  “It has but recently happened?”

  “Yes, recently.”

  Justin suddenly strode across the room to the window. Serena raised her eyes and watched him go and then she turned her head because she dared not look at him again.

  Justin stood looking out of the window. Outside the beggars were still arguing, but he did not appear to notice them.

  After a moment he said,

  “I had no idea. It is Gilly, I suppose, but I will not question you. I understand now your reluctance to visit Staverley.”

  Serena swallowed a sob in her throat.

  Could anything be more near to Heaven than to be at Staverley with Justin if he did but care for her? To show him the places where she had played as a child, the trees and bushes she had made especially her own, the rooms where she had dreamt happy dreams, to wander down to the lakeside, to stroll through the woods and hear the pigeons cooing – oh, to be at Staverley with Justin – a Justin who loved her!

  “What then would you wish to do?” came the voice from the window and this time the voice had no caressing note in it, but one of harshness.

  “I would like – to return to Mandrake,” Serena repeated.

  It was somehow the only place that she could think of where she would not be alone. It was the only place that seemed at the moment a kind of refuge because of the many people who were there, because of the chances it afforded of escaping further intimacy with – the man she loved.

  “It shall be as you wish,” Justin said abruptly. “I will order the coach. Your maid can travel with you and I will come down a trifle later this evening in my curricle. Is that as you desire it?”

  “Yes – and thank you.”

  Serena’s voice was faint.

  This ordeal had taxed her more than she would have believed possible.

  Justin turned from the window. He walked across the room to face Serena where she stood still holding onto the chair. As he faced her, she looked up and he thought for the moment of some wild creature who had been trapped and who had prayed for death as much as
for freedom.

  He looked down into her face and his eyes were cold and grey.

  “You little fool,” he said slowly, “why did you not you tell me this before?”

  It was as if his bitterness and his anger were too much for Serena.

  She had suffered so much that this was the last straw. She gave a little convulsive cry and turning, ran from the room.

  As she fled across the hall and up the stairs, she thought she heard Justin’s voice call her name, but she was not sure and anyway, she was consumed only by a desire to get away from him.

  She reached her room and, slamming the door behind her, flung herself face downwards on the bed and lay there trembling.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I’ll bet a monkey we have to endure a thunderstorm before nightfall,” Lord Gillingham said, staring out over the sea from the windows of the Orangery.

  “’Tis too hot to bet, too hot to be anything but odiously unpleasant,” Isabel replied.

  She was seated in a low cushioned chair in front of an open French window which led down onto the green lawns.

  The Orangery was one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture in Mandrake. It had been built in the reign of Queen Anne and its designer had arranged that the windows, opening on one side to the sea and on the other to the lawns, should give one the illusion of being afloat in a boat filled with fresh greenery and golden fruit.

  In the centre of the Orangery there was a tiny fountain and the water made a rhythmic tinkle as it played into a shallow pool where fish swam amongst the waxen petals of the water lilies.

  “The ground is badly in need of rain,” Lord Gillingham remarked.

  Isabel picked up a painted fan and used it languidly.

  “Can you talk of naught but the weather, Gilly?” she asked crossly.

  The Marchioness, who had been sitting in another chair with her eyes closed, rose to her feet.

  “I was fool enough to say that I would not be ‘at home’ tonight,” she remarked, addressing herself neither to Isabel nor to Gilly, nor yet to Nicholas who, leaning against the wall, was watching Isabel with brooding eyes.

  There was a moment’s pause and then quickly, as if she feared that their silence was impolite, Isabel said,

  “Now that you have learnt that Justin is not seriously wounded, ma’am, it would be easy to send your friends word that you will be pleased to entertain them.”

  The Marchioness moved towards the window. She stood still for a moment looking out and a light wind from the sea blew her dress of finely embroidered muslin tight against her figure.

  ‘But am I pleased?’ she asked. ‘Do I really wish to see them? Those chattering bird-witted persons whom I am mistaken enough to speak of as friends?’

  There was raw misery in the Marchioness’s voice and Isabel then stood up.

  “You are depressed, ma’am,” she said softly, “would you not be wise to rest a little? The events of yesterday have upset you and in very truth it is not surprising.”

  The Marchioness put her hand to her forehead.

  “Yes, yes, I am upset,” she admitted. “I will go to my room. And yet there, yes, there I shall be alone – alone with my thoughts.”

  She spoke wildly, her voice so desperate that both Nicholas and Gilly looked startled and then embarrassed.

  “Oh, but ma’am – ” Isabel began, but before she could complete her sentence the Marchioness had turned abruptly away and, passing swiftly down the length of the Orangery, she went into the house.

  All three of her guests watched her until she was out of sight and then Isabel gave an exclamation of astonishment.

  “What ails her?”

  “I fear she is indisposed,” Gilly answered. “She was remarkably strange last night. I thought just now as she walked away that she was like some wild animal in captivity, in fact she reminded me of a caged tiger.”

  Isabel laughed.

  “Oh, lud, Gilly, you are growing imaginative! But ’tis true the Marchioness has not been herself of late. What think you, Nicholas?”

  “It is Lord Vulcan’s fault,” Nicholas answered sullenly. “That stupid stable boy bringing the news that he was dead or mortally wounded would have distressed any mother.”

  “I was deeply grieved for the Marchioness,” Isabel agreed. “And I should have been vastly disturbed myself had I not awoken only after the crisis was past and good news had been received.”

  “That is so like you, Isabel,” Gilly said. “You save yourself from every possible fidget. And that reminds me, has anything been heard of Serena?”

  “No,” Isabel replied. “And I am mad as fire with myself for not having accompanied her when she set out for London. Had she but informed me of her intention, I would, of course, have gone with her.”

  “But not on a horse,” Gilly pointed out with brotherly sarcasm. “Your Ladyship would undoubtedly have travelled in comfort!”

  “Had I thought like Serena that Justin was in danger,” Isabel retorted, “I would have gone to him by the swiftest way available, whatever the discomfort to my person.”

  Nicholas moved suddenly and, walking to the window, stared out. It was obvious that he was in a sullen mood and that Isabel’s talk of Justin did not improve his temper.

  Isabel gazed at him and her eyes twinkled mischievously.

  “If I had been awake when the news came, I would have sped to Justin in a fast curricle. You would have driven me, wouldn’t you, Nicholas?”

  There was a moment’s pause before he answered and, as he turned round, his eyes were dark.

  “No, I would not,” he replied in a voice so deep with anger that Isabel’s eyebrows rose a little in astonishment.

  “La, how ungallant of you, Nicholas,” she exclaimed. “Perhaps Serena was wise in that she went off on her chase unchaperoned save by a groom.”

  Nicholas looked even angrier.

  “It was a most regrettable action on the part of my cousin,” he said stiffly. “I would never have expected her to do such a wild and thoughtless thing. I can only hope that you, Isabel and Gilly, will not allow the story of her indiscretion to spread further.”

  Nicholas spoke with so much dignity that even Isabel was impressed.

  “Good Heavens, Nicholas,” she said, “is it likely that Gilly or I would chatter maliciously of Serena? I love the girl, I swear it, although I vow it was a most unfriendly action on her part not to have taken me into her confidence. I – ”

  She was about to say more when she saw that the Marchioness was approaching them. She came back down the Orangery, still with a wild haunted look on her face and flung herself down in the chair she had but recently vacated.

  “’Tis oven-hot in the house,” she said after a moment, as if she suddenly realised that some explanation of her return might be expected of her. “I declare that even the Great Hall is like unto purgatory. There is more air here than elsewhere.”

  “Could not the footmen bring you a couch, ma’am?” Isabel suggested. “If they put it in the open window and we withdrew you might sleep and wake refreshed.”

  “Sleep!” the Marchioness exclaimed. “No, Isabel, I could not sleep, my brain feels as if it is on fire, there is something strange within my head. It is a monstrous queer feeling and one that I cannot explain.”

  Isabel glanced at Nicholas as if for help, but he was silent and after a moment she said timidly,

  “Will you not let me escort you to your bedchamber, ma’am? I know it is wise that you should take some rest.”

  “No, no,” the Marchioness exclaimed almost frantically. “I cannot, I tell you, I cannot!”

  There was the sound of footsteps and all four of them turned their heads in the direction of the sound. It was only a footman bearing a silver salver, but they were silent as he approached the Marchioness and, bowing low, proffered the salver on which lay a note.

  The Marchioness sat up suddenly in her chair.

  “’Tis from Justin himself!” she cried. �
�When did this arrive?”

  “A groom brought it from Grosvenor Square, my Lady. He arrived but a few minutes past.”

  The Marchioness took the note, staring for a moment at the writing as if she had never seen it before.

  “Oh, do open it, ma’am,” Isabel urged her impatiently. “I long to hear how Justin is and he may tell us if Serena has reached London in safety.”

  “Serena!” the Marchioness repeated the name and her voice held a snarling note.

  Then very slowly, as if it was difficult for her to control her long white fingers, she opened the letter.

  Isabel bent forward in her chair, her eyes bright with eagerness and curiosity. Even Nicholas’s sullenness lifted for a moment and he drew a little nearer as if he was afraid that he might miss what was being said.

  The Marchioness read the note slowly.

  After a second or so she blinked as if it was hard to focus her eyes on the words. Her three guests watched her face.

  They saw her eyes widen, they perceived that she took a deep breath and then suddenly she sprang to her feet, crumpling the note in her hand and holding it away from her as if it was something vile.

  “No,” she cried. “It cannot be true, it cannot.”

  “What, ma’am? What is it?”

  “’Tis untrue! A monstrous untruth!” the Marchioness cried, trembling all over.

  “What has happened, ma’am? Please tell us,” Isabel said agitatedly. “I pray you not to keep us in suspense. Is it Justin?”

  The Marchioness, still with her hand held straight in front of her, replied,

  “Yes, it is Justin.”

  The words seemed to come with difficulty from between her lips and then suddenly spitting out her words so that both Isabel and Nicholas moved back a pace in alarm, she said,

  “He is wed! Justin is wed!”

  “Wed?”

  Isabel echoed the word hardly above a whisper.

  “But to whom?” Gilly enquired.

  It was the first time he had spoken and now the Marchioness turned to face him. He thought in that moment that he had never seen a face more contorted.

  “To whom but that scheming sly-faced chit whom he brought here but a few weeks past.”