63 Ola and the Sea Wolf

by Barbara Cartland

  The Marquis was astounded, not only at the subjects which interested her but because she knew so much about them.

  “How can you have read so much at your age?” he asked one evening after they had had a long and animated discussion on conditions in the coalmines.

  “I have not only read a lot,” Ola replied, “My Papa was an extremely clever man. The only trouble was that he wished to expound his own theories and not listen to anybody else’s.”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “So that is why you are so verbose on these subjects.”

  “That is a rather unkind way of putting it,” Ola objected, “but the answer is ‘yes’. I have been bottling up my own ideas for so long that now, because you are obliging enough to listen to me, they burst out like a volcano.”

  The Marquis laughed and thought that while he was the first man Ola had ever been able to talk to, she was the first woman who had ever been interested in every subject in the world except himself.

  He had never before in his life, the Marquis thought, talked for hours with a woman, and an attractive one at that, when there had been nothing personal in what they said to each other.

  With Ola there were no flirtatious glances, no fishing for compliments and most of all none of the sharp witty double entendres which the sophisticated women in London used as a weapon of attraction.

  Thinking back, he could never remember having a conversation with Sarah that had not involved her feelings or his or which had not ended in his making her passionate expressions of love.

  He realised now how clearly she had led him on, how she had aroused, then tantalised him by refusing to ‘risk her reputation’ by surrendering herself as he wished her to.

  Yet all the time she was amusing herself with another man.

  To his surprise he found that his hurt pride as well as his anger had now subsided to the point where he could wonder quite calmly what Sarah must have thought when he did not arrive the following night as she expected.

  He imagined that she would have waited for him and then decided that he could not have received her letter.

  She would therefore have expected him the next day and perhaps the day after that, until finally she would either have made enquiries or somebody would have told her that he had stayed one night at Elvin and then left at dawn the following morning.

  It was then, he thought, unless she was more stupid than he gave her credit for, she would be bound to realise what had happened and would be aware that she had lost him irretrievably.

  ‘I hope she is upset,’ he told himself, and found that he was not even feeling very vindictive about it.

  She had gambled and lost, as many men and women had done in the past and would do in the future.

  For the first time the Marquis said to himself,

  ‘Thank God I was lucky enough to find out the truth before it was too late!’

  He had had a lucky escape and he knew he should be grateful for that, just as he was grateful that Ola had saved his life when, if she had not been there, he would undoubtedly have died at the hands of the brigands.

  Several days before they reached Nice, Ola was able to go up on deck without being carried and she was well enough not only to have luncheon with the Marquis in the Saloon but also to stay up for dinner.

  “I have been given strict instructions by Gibson that I am to go to bed before you drink your first glass of port,” she said, “so please, don’t be in a hurry to do so.”

  “You know Gibson has to be obeyed when it is a question of your health,” the Marquis said with mock seriousness.

  “I am well aware of that,” Ola replied. “He gets more like my nanny every day until I find myself almost saying, ‘yes, Nanny!’ and ‘no, Nanny!’ to everything he tells me to do.”

  The Marquis laughed and she added quickly,

  “But I am not complaining. I realise that if Gibson had not been on board I might not be here with you now.”

  “He is really rather a wonderful little man.”

  “He thinks the sun and the moon rise and set for you,” Ola said. “He sings your praises until I too bow to your importance.”

  “You are trying to make me feel embarrassed,” the Marquis complained, “and I suspect there is a sting somewhere in what you are saying.”

  “Now you are being nasty,” Ola teased. “You are omnipotent and I feel that by the end of this voyage I shall be saying my prayers to you.”

  She spoke without considering her words.

  Then, as the Marquis saw a sudden wary look in her eyes and the colour rise in her cheeks, he knew that she was thinking that, if she was praying to him, it would be to beg him not to send her back to her stepmother, which he could quite easily do from Nice.

  He hesitated as if he intended to say something, but before he could do so, the Stewards came into the Saloon and the opportunity did not seem to arise later.

  *

  The Sea Wolf sailed into harbour at Nice early in the morning and Ola could see the white villas and hotels built along the seafront and above them the surrounding hills and, silhouetted against the sky in the far distance, the snow-capped rugged head of Mont Chauve.

  Everything seemed to glow with a warmth and radiance which made her feel as if Nice gave her a special welcome and, before they dropped anchor, she could see the palms, the graceful feathery tamarisks, the oleanders and, what she longed for more than anything else, the yellow mimosa.

  “I want to go ashore immediately!” she cried excitedly to the Marquis.

  Then, as he did not reply, she looked up at him and saw a frown between his eyes.

  “You think that would be – unwise?” she asked quickly.

  “What I would like to do,” he replied, “is to have a quick look round to see who I know here. As you are well aware, this is a fashionable time of the year for people to come to Nice and I would not wish you to be embarrassed until we have made our plans.”

  “Yes – of course,” Ola said quickly.

  She realised now that they should have discussed what she was to do before they actually arrived.

  But she had been content to let the days drift by without forcing the issue and she had the idea that the Marquis was being kind to her because she was still weak from her wound.

  “I am sure you are right,” she said, “you must go ashore and I will wait until you return.”

  He smiled as if he thought that she was being not only sensible but also conciliatory in a way he had not expected.

  “I shall not be long,” he said. “I know where to make enquiries and I shall come back as soon as possible.”

  “I will sit and look at the view,” she sighed. “It is so lovely – like a picture by a master-painter of which one would never grow tired.”

  The Marquis left the yacht and Ola thought he looked extremely elegant with his top hat at an angle on his dark head.

  She wondered if there were many of his old loves staying in Nice who would welcome him with open arms. She hoped if they did so, it would not make him linger for long because without him the yacht seemed empty and she felt lonely.

  After a while she went down to the Saloon and, choosing a book, settled down to read.

  It was full of interesting issues she thought she would like to discuss with the Marquis and yet she kept wondering if, now they had reached Nice, this would be the end of the voyage as far as she was concerned.

  She could hardly believe he would be so cruel or so heartless after what had happened to send her back to her stepmother as he had threatened to do, before she drugged him.

  But what was the alternative?

  Unless she went as she had first intended to the Convent and risked her cousin Giles finding her there.

  It struck her that she had rarely thought about Giles since the moment she had left Dover with the Marquis and she supposed that he would have been well looked after wherever he was staying.

  If he was not, it could hardly be her fault. He had had no
right to behave as he had or threaten that he would force her into marriage, just so that he could claim her fortune.

  ‘He is horrible and I have no wish to think about him,’ Ola told herself.

  She was quite certain that the Marquis would never behave in such an ungentlemanly manner however much in need he might be of money.

  Besides, unlike Giles, she was sure that in straitened circumstances the Marquis would be clever enough to find some way of making money and would not just sponge on his friends or relations.

  ‘He would be too honourable,’ Ola thought.

  She had picked up her book to go on reading when she heard footsteps outside the Saloon and thought with a leap of her heart that the Marquis had returned.

  She looked eagerly towards the door as it opened and a Steward appeared to say,

  “A gentleman to see his Lordship!”

  Then a man walked into the Saloon and as Ola stared at him incredulously she realised with astonishment it was Giles.

  After his first start at seeing her, he said harshly,

  “So this is where you are! I might have suspected it when I was told that the Marquis of Elvington had taken you across the Channel to Calais.”

  “Why – are you – here?”

  “I was looking for you,” Giles replied, “although I did not expect to find you in Nice!”

  She did not speak and, as if he thought he must explain himself, he said,

  “When I was well enough to travel, I went to the Convent expecting to find you there.”

  That was what Ola had guessed he would do and she drew in her breath as he continued,

  “I was not certain where I should go next and came to Nice to convalesce after my accident. You have not asked after my health and it may interest you to know that I fractured two ribs and my head still aches.”

  “You got what you deserve,” Ola replied sharply, “and I was lucky to escape from you!”

  “To the Marquis of Elvington!”

  There was no doubt in the way Giles spoke that he was sneering and Ola parried,

  “His Lordship was kind enough to help me when you were trying to force me into marriage just so that you could get your hands on my fortune.”

  “I was at least prepared to marry you,” Giles smirked, “but I always thought with your hair you would become a strumpet sooner or later!”

  He spoke so aggressively that he was not aware, as Ola was, that the Marquis had come into the Saloon behind him.

  Now, as he finished speaking, he turned his head and saw who was there.

  “You will kindly apologise for speaking to your cousin in such a manner!” the Marquis said quietly.

  “I shall do no such thing!” Giles retorted, “I called her a strumpet because she obviously is, but, as we are related, I am still prepared to make an honest woman of her, which is more than you are prepared to do.”

  He spat the words at the Marquis and then as Ola gasped the Marquis knocked him down.

  It was a blow to the chin and, as Giles sprawled on the deck of the Saloon, the Marquis barked,

  “Get off my yacht! If I ever find you here again or speaking in such an insulting way to a lady, I will give you the thrashing you deserve!”

  For a moment Giles did not move and Ola thought the expression on his face was so unpleasant that it was positively evil.

  Then, as he picked himself up, he said,

  “If you think you can get away with this, Elvington, you are very much mistaken! When I go back to London I shall make it my business to see that everybody in the Social world is aware of your behaviour in abducting a young and defenceless girl. I cannot believe His Majesty or the Queen will countenance such immorality on the part of one of their privileged entourage.”

  As he finished speaking, Ola gave a little cry of horror, then as Giles walked from the cabin stroking his chin where he had been hit and the Marquis followed him, she ran out to her own cabin.

  She knew that Giles had not spoken idly in saying the Marquis would be in disgrace if the King and Queen heard Giles’s distorted version of her being alone and unchaperoned on the Marquis’s yacht.

  The Queen had been generous enough to accept the burden of His Majesty’s illegitimate children and become devoted to them, but in every other way she had shown herself to be prudish and extremely censorious about anything that offended her particular ideals of morality and respectability.

  Having been brought up in a narrow and provincial Court, she had a very clear vision of what conventional life should be and had no idea of modifying her beliefs to suit an alien land.

  Ola was intelligent enough to realise that the Marquis was not only proud of the confidence placed in him by the Kin, but also made it his duty to try to prevent the Monarch from making the many mistakes in which his impetuosity involved him.

  She had also learned quite casually through their conversations that when people at Court, and even the Prime Minister, wanted something done they asked the Marquis to help put their point of view to the King simply because His Majesty was so fond of him.

  ‘How can I take that from him? How can I spoil that part of his life?’ Ola asked herself.

  Because she could think of nothing else she could do, she frantically began to pack her trunk, taking her gowns from the cupboard and her other things from the drawers that were in a cleverly contrived piece of furniture fitted against the side of one of the walls of the cabin.

  As she was agitated, it took her longer than it would have done normally, apart from the fact that because she was using her injured arm it began to hurt her.

  But at last everything was packed and she took her bonnet from the top of the cupboard, put it on her head and tied the ribbons under her chin.

  Then she went to the cabin door and called for a Steward.

  There was always one in attendance when either she or the Marquis were in their cabins, but it was not the Steward who came in answer to her call, but Gibson.

  “I wanted the Steward,” she told him.

  “I’ll do whatever it is you want, miss.”

  Ola hesitated a moment.

  Then she said,

  “Please have my trunk strapped down and taken onto the quay and I want a Hackney carriage.”

  Gibson did not reply and after a moment she said firmly,

  “At once!”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible, miss.”

  “What do you mean – it is impossible?” Ola enquired.

  “Before the Master went ashore, miss, he says to me, ‘look after Miss Milford, Gibson, until I gets back’.”

  “What his Lordship said or did not say does not concern me,” Ola insisted with dignity. “I have to leave, Gibson, and I would be obliged if you would carry out my orders.”

  “I’m sorry, miss, but that’s something I can’t do!”

  “You mean you are refusing to have my trunk taken ashore?”

  “If it comes to that, miss, I’m refusing to let you go,” Gibson answered. “Besides, you’re not strong enough to go gallivantin’ about and you knows that as well as I do.”

  “I – have to – go, Gibson.”

  He shook his head, but instead of raging at him, as she was sure she would have done in the past, she sat down helplessly on the bed.

  “Now what I’m going to do, miss,” Gibson said in a different tone, “is to fetch you a nice cup of tea. There’s nothin’ like a cup of tea when you feels upset.”

  He left the cabin as he spoke, closing the door behind him and Ola put her hands up to her eyes as if in an effort to think.

  “If I stay here I shall hurt the Marquis,” she said, “and this is something I must not do.”

  She decided that if Gibson was going to be so obstructive she must leave without her luggage.

  She knew that he would have gone to the galley to make her tea and she thought that, if she hurried, she could slip up on deck and get away before he was aware of it.

  The Sea Wolf was tied up
alongside the quay with a gangplank by which she could step ashore.

  She therefore picked up her jewel case and moving very quietly in case there was anyone listening, she went to the door and turned the handle.

  It seemed surprisingly stiff, then, as she turned it again, she realised indignantly that Gibson had locked her in.

  It was intolerable behaviour on his part and she walked to the porthole wishing that she were small enough to squeeze through it and swim to the shore, just to show her independence.

  Then she knew that was impossible and once again she sat down on her bed and taking off her bonnet threw it down in a display of temper that only made her feel more tired than she was already.

  She heard Gibson returning and decided to tell him in no uncertain terms what she thought of his impertinence in daring to treat her like a child.

  He had been so kind and skilful when she was ill, but this was exceeding his authority.

  She heard the key turn in the lock and the door opened but it was not Gibson who stood there but the Marquis.

  He came into the cabin and she saw him glance at her packed trunk and thought that he already knew what she was trying to do.

  Then, as his eyes met hers, she found the words of protest she had been about to say die on her lips. She could only look at him and think how handsome he was and how strong he had appeared when he had knocked Giles down.

  “I am sorry to have been so long,” the Marquis said. “You must have been wondering where I had gone.”

  “I-I wanted to – leave – but Gibson would not let me.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Away – so that Giles cannot – hurt you by the things he would tell the – King and Queen.”

  “I think your leaving in such a precipitate manner would hardly alter his story if he was permitted to tell it.”

  Ola’s eyes widened.

  “You stopped him from doing so?”

  The Marquis nodded.

  “But – how – ? What have you – done?”

  It flashed through Ola’s mind that perhaps the Marquis had injured Giles or even killed him, but somehow that seemed out of character.