Count the Stars

by Barbara Cartland

  There had been a tremendous scandal two or three years ago when Lord Melford had run away with the wife of a well-known actor.

  It had been a case in which he had been sued for seduction and it had the gossips licking their lips at the revelations that filled the less respectable newspapers and delighted the cartoonists.

  Finally there was talk of a divorce, which would have to be taken to the House of Lords. However the actor had had a sudden heart attack during a performance at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and died before a doctor could be fetched.

  It had all been extremely dramatic and had taken up a great deal of newsprint.

  At first there had even been speculation as to whether Lord Melford had been party to murdering his paramour’s revengeful husband. Death, however, was proved to be from natural causes, and the Duke had heard in the Club that Melford had been fool enough to marry his mistress, who naturally was not likely to be accepted socially.

  Almost as if she sensed the thoughts that were passing through the Duke’s mind, Valora said,

  “Now I – think you – understand!”

  “I do!” the Duke replied, “and I am very sorry for you.”

  “I am only – sorry for – myself,” Valora answered, “because my stepmother wishes me to – marry. If I had the choice, it is something I would have no intention of doing.”

  The Duke looked puzzled.

  “You mean you have no intention of marrying Heverington?”

  “Or anyone – else,” Valora said quickly.

  “This is ridiculous,” the Duke expostulated. “Of course you must marry. But, as you are very young, there is no hurry.”

  “I am eighteen,” Valora said, “and though you may think it strange, if I can live my own life, I do not intend to marry.”

  “Why?” the Duke asked curiously.

  “It would take me some time to explain my feelings on this matter,” Valora replied. “But now please help me to escape. I must be a long way from here before Stepmama realises I have gone.”

  “I agree that is important,” the Duke answered, “but at the same time where do you think of going?”

  “My grandfather, Mama’s father, lives in York,” Valora said. “He is very old, but I think if I can reach him, he can prove to be my proper Guardian rather than Stepmama.”

  The Duke thought that this was intelligent thinking.

  “I am sure he will,” he said, “and by an extraordinary coincidence I am on my way to York.”

  He thought there was a sudden light in Valora’s eyes before she said,

  “I would not – wish to trouble you – if you could allow me to leave through your room once everyone is asleep in the inn. I can find Mercury and be on my way.”

  “I thought it clever of you to suggest that he should be in the paddock rather than the stable,” the Duke remarked.

  “I shall have to ride him without a saddle,” Valora said. “Perhaps if I have enough money I will be able to buy one, once I am well ahead of those who will try and catch me.”

  “Are you suggesting that your stepmother will send the servants after you?”

  “Of course she will. She has her special factotum with her, a man called Walter. He is a horrible creature who spies on people and he has been running the household ever since Papa died.”

  The Duke thought that he was probably one of the men who had been eating in the dining hall.

  “I expect too,” Valora went on, “she would send Giles who works with Walter and perhaps one of the outriders.”

  She gave a little shiver that seemed to shake her whole body, as she continued,

  “She will do everything in her power to prevent my escaping. She wants the ten thousand pounds that Sir Mortimer has promised her and will fight desperately not to lose it.”

  “I see that we shall have to be clever if we are to circumvent her plans,” the Duke replied reflectively.

  “I do not want to be a – nuisance or an – encumbrance to – you,” Valora said.

  “I have a feeling you might get into far worse trouble if you travel alone,” the Duke answered.

  “Nothing could be worse than having to marry Sir Mortimer,” Valora replied fervently.

  The Duke was sure that she had no idea of the dangers she could encounter riding in the countryside.

  Even as he thought that she should go with him, he knew it would be extremely stupid of him to become involved with someone like Lady Melford and an outsider like Sir Mortimer.

  He was sensible enough to realise that it would obviously be very much in their interest to blackmail him for abducting a minor and, rather than face a sentence of transportation, he would have to meet their demands, however exorbitant.

  Common sense told him that in his position he should let Valora make the journey to York alone and disassociate himself both from her and the people she was involved with.

  Then he thought again of Sir Mortimer’s cruel streak and, as he looked at the small frail figure silhouetted against the candlelight and the child-like face turned towards him, he knew that he could not abandon her.

  He began to plan what they would do, almost as if he was back in the war, thinking how he could get his men into a strategic position yet out of range of the enemy.

  Then, as he realised that Valora was waiting, her large eyes fixed on his face, he said,

  “I think the wisest course would be for you to have some sleep. We shall have to ride hard as soon as it is light and the worst thing would be for you to collapse from exhaustion.”

  “I shall not do that,” Valora replied. “Could we not go now?”

  “I think that would be a mistake,” the Duke told her. “The publican would think it strange that I should leave before enjoying the somewhat doubtful comfort of his bed. And if there was the slightest suspicion that you were leaving with me, he would undoubtedly alert one of your servants who would awaken your stepmother.”

  Valora clasped her fingers together.

  “You are right – of course you are right and very wise. As you say, we must – think this out very – carefully.”

  She drew in her breath before she added,

  “If I fail to escape now– tomorrow night I shall be at – Heverington Hall.”

  “Then do what I tell you,” the Duke said. “Go to your bedroom and try to sleep. I will wake you at four o’clock, which is about the time dawn breaks.”

  Valora rose from the bed and then, as the Duke rose too, she stood looking up at him.

  “I am sure it is – wrong of me to involve you in my troubles and – difficulties,” she said, “but I am very – grateful.”

  “I am honoured that you should trust me.”

  She smiled. It was the first time she had done so and it made her look enchanting.

  “I knew I could do that the moment I saw you,” she told him quietly.

  “Thank you.”

  Valora started to move to the communicating door and, as she reached it, he said,

  “You realise you can bring with you only what can be attached to the back of your saddle, if we can find one for you.”

  “I had already thought of that,” Valora answered, “and actually I had my things ready before I went down to dinner.”

  “Then try to sleep,” the Duke advised.

  She smiled at him again, went into her own room and closed the door behind her.

  The Duke undressed and climbed into bed.

  He had taught himself in the Army to wake at whatever time he wanted and, having registered in his mind that he must rise at four o’clock, he shut his eyes and relaxed.

  Once again he caught himself thinking that he was being very foolhardy in getting himself mixed up with Valora, her stepmother, and worst of all – Heverington.

  Then he remembered Freddie’s instructions that he should meet real people and wondered if this was what they were.

  Even Valora with her child-like beauty seemed unreal. It was certainly strange that she had sa
id she had no intention of being married.

  ‘I shall ask her to explain that tomorrow,’ he thought.

  But he knew that the real question was whether they would be able to escape from the inn.

  *

  The Duke awoke with a start and saw that the first faint light of dawn was coming through the uncurtained window.

  He sat up to look at his watch that he had put beside him before he went to sleep and the hands pointed at ten minutes to four.

  He got out of bed, washed in cold water and, when he was decently clothed in his shirt and breeches, he opened the communicating door between his room and Valora’s.

  He knew it would be unwise, as silence enveloped the inn, to talk.

  At this hour the sound of a voice, however slight, would carry and perhaps wake those who were sleeping more lightly than they had earlier in the night.

  As he expected, Valora was fast asleep.

  He walked in his stockinged feet quietly towards the bed and he could see that her eyelashes were dark against her cheeks. She looked very young and defenceless with her golden hair flowing over her shoulders and the pillow.

  He stood gazing at her for a moment before he put out his hand and very gently touched her shoulder.

  She opened her eyes immediately and, bemused with sleep and perhaps he thought, her dreams, she stared at him as if she did not recognise him.

  “It’s nearly four o’clock,” he whispered.

  She made as if to sit up.

  “Don’t speak if you can help it, just get dressed and join me.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he left her and went back to his own room.

  By the time he had pulled on his boots, tied his cravat in the manner that Jenkins found so lamentably old-fashioned and packed his nightshirt and razor, Valora joined him.

  She was wearing a dark blue riding habit, which was very smartly cut, but fortunately was not a very distinctive colour and on her head was a high-crowned hat draped with a gauze veil, which would certainly not have looked out of place in Rotten Row.

  She was carrying a rolled-up bundle, which clearly contained the necessities she was bringing with her.

  There was a look of excitement on her face combined with an expression of trust, which he thought reminded him of the spaniels which followed him everywhere when he was at The Castle.

  “I have been thinking over what we should do,” he said in a low tone. “I am going to go downstairs and see if there is anyone about. When I find that the coast is clear, I want you to follow me and go straight to the paddock to your horse.”

  Valora nodded, but she did not speak.

  “I imagine he will be without a bridle and I will collect one from the stable with my own horse and, if it is possible, find your saddle. If not, we shall have to buy one.”

  Again Valora nodded.

  Without saying any more, the Duke picked up the roll containing his belongings, took a quick look round the bedroom to see he had not left anything behind and opened the door.

  The inside of the inn was in darkness. There was deep silence and no one appeared to be moving.

  The Duke walked down the oak stairs on tiptoe and, when he reached the bottom, he went to the door opposite the dining hall, which he was sure was the way into the kitchen.

  There was still no sound of movement or voices and he beckoned to Valora, who was standing in the doorway of his bedroom. She seemed almost to float down the stairs without making a sound.

  He opened the door of the inn.

  She slipped past him and he saw her run across the courtyard.

  The Duke then went to the counter where the publican kept his ledger. He put down on it two guineas, then walked in a normal manner from the inn across the courtyard to the stables.

  He expected that the servants and the outriders who had accompanied Lady Melford and Valora would be sleeping in the hay-attic, as was usual in wayside inns, and Walter would undoubtedly have a bed on the second floor, if there were one.

  The Duke walked towards the stall where he had left Samson.

  He lifted down his bridle from a hook on the opposite wall and picked up his saddle, which had been laid beneath it.

  Samson made no difficulties about the Duke saddling him rather than a groom.

  As he tightened the girth, the Duke saw a lady’s saddle which he was sure was Valora’s lying on the floor in the passageway beneath a bridle, as his had been.

  He led Samson out of the stable and then quickly lifted down Valora’s bridle and put her saddle over his.

  Even as he did so, he heard the sound of a man yawning and then spitting overhead and he knew that Samson’s movements had awoken either one of the ostlers or the Melford coachmen.

  Hastily, because there was no time to be lost, he led Samson across the yard and round the side of the stables.

  As he suspected, the paddock was a small and badly fenced piece of grass, which was just behind the building.

  At the gate Valora was standing with a bay horse nuzzling her, which the Duke recognised as a fine thoroughbred.

  He took Samson up to her at a run, transferred her saddle on to Mercury’s back and handed her the bridle.

  At a speed that he felt could not have been bettered by any Sergeant Major, the Duke had the girths fastened and then lifted Valora into the saddle before he mounted Samson.

  Then they were off, riding at a speed that made the tufts of grass fly out behind the horses’ hooves.

  It was some moments before Valora exclaimed,

  “We have done it! We have done it! How can I thank you? I could never have managed to find Mercury’s saddle by myself.”

  “We have a long way to go,” the Duke said solemnly. “It is unlucky to assume we have won until we have reached York.”

  Valora smiled at him and for the first time he noticed that she had a dimple on either side of her mouth.

  “I have always believed the first step is the most difficult,” she replied, “and we have taken that in style.”

  She spoke with a lilt in her voice that the Duke had not heard before and he replied,

  “By all means let’s be optimistic, but not foolhardy.”

  “I have a feeling in my bones that we shall reach Grandpapa,” she said, “and nothing you can say could depress me at this moment.”

  Even as she spoke, she looked over her shoulder apprehensively almost as if she felt they might have been pursued.

  There was nothing to see except the soft ground mist that hid everything but the roof of the inn from sight and even that was gradually fading into the distance.

  “Ride!” the Duke ordered tersely. “And I only hope Mercury can keep up with Samson.”

  “You insult him,” Valora replied indignantly.

  At the same time she knew that he was speaking sense.

  She pushed Mercury into a gallop and she and the Duke moved side by side as the run rose over the horizon.

  They rode for nearly three hours across country, the Duke making no attempt to jump hedges but deliberately, because it was less arduous, finding the gates or gaps and all the time avoiding the roads.

  He was beginning to feel hungry and although she did not complain, he was sure that Valora felt the same.

  Then he saw ahead of them a small village that appeared to consist merely of a small grey stone Norman Church and a few black and white thatched cottages.

  For the first time for nearly an hour the Duke spoke.

  “I think we have earned our breakfast, and I admit to feeling extremely hungry.”

  “So am I,” Valora replied, “but I thought you might consider it far from necessary at such a crucial moment.”

  “I hope the moment is less crucial than it was,” the Duke answered dryly, “and eggs and bacon seem to me just now as delectable as anything a superlative chef could devise.”

  Even as he spoke, he feared that to talk in such a manner might suggest he was a rich man.

  He hoped Valora did not
notice or reflect that the average gentleman who rode alone without a groom did not employ a chef.

  She made no comment, but the Duke told himself that from the way she behaved she was obviously quick-witted and perceptive and, unless he wished her to be suspicious about his identity, he would have to be more careful what he said in the future.

  He was not surprised, when they were seated outside a small inn named ‘The Dog and Duck’, having ordered for breakfast everything that was available, that Valora said,

  “You know my name, but you have not told me yours. I can hardly address you as ‘my Good Samaritan’, which indeed is what you are!”

  The Duke remembered that was what he had thought he was, when he could not ‘pass by on the other side.’

  He thought quickly what he could call himself.

  He had considered, when he had set out on the journey, taking Freddie’s name.

  Now he decided Valora might have heard of it since Freddie’s father was a member of the Cabinet and his uncle was in the House of Lords. He therefore altered it.

  “My name is Standon,” he said, “Greville Standon.”

  He used one of his own Christian names, which everyone had almost forgotten because his friends and his relatives all called him ‘Brock’.

  “Greville Standon!” Valora repeated. “It is a nice name and suits you.”

  The Duke smiled.

  “Just as Valora suits you. Have you any idea why it was chosen?”

  “My mother was very well read,” Valora answered, “and wanted to give me a name that was unusual. Papa was not interested as I was not a son.”

  She smiled before she added,

  “I was in fact a disappointment to him from the moment I was born. But sometimes he treated me as if I was a boy and I enjoyed that.”

  The Duke thought that it was difficult to think of anyone who looked less masculine and more feminine than Valora, but he merely asked,

  “What did you learn in that particular capacity?”

  “I learned to shoot and swim and Papa did not object to paying teachers who taught me Latin and Greek.”

  The Duke was surprised.

  “Certainly the sort of education a boy receives.”