They were guzzling themselves, stopping only to wash the food down by drinking out of a bottle.
It was a relief to reach London, although it was eleven o’clock in the evening.
Once again Claudia had great difficulty in finding a porter.
Then, only because she was so well dressed, the driver of a Hackney carriage agreed to take her.
The cabby in a surly voice said that he was going home.
Claudia remembered while she was on the train that she would have to collect the key to the house in Chelsea from Mr. Prior, Lady Bressley’s secretary.
What was more, she realised that she had a disagreeable task ahead of her.
Unless the Courier, who had broken his leg in the accident, had informed the household what had happened, she would have to break the news of Lady Bressley’s death.
The Hackney carriage drew up outside the large house in Grosvenor Square.
The coachman, however, made no attempt to climb down from his box.
Claudia got out and rang the bell.
She rang and rang.
Then she raised the knocker again and again, but still there was no answer.
She thought despairingly that she might have to spend the night on the doorstep.
At last, however, to her relief, there was the sound of bolts being drawn back and the door opened.
A sleepy-eyed half-dressed footman asked in a hostile voice,
“What do you want?”
“I want to speak to Mr. Prior,” Claudia said.
The footman stared at her.
Then, realising that she seemed to be someone of importance, he opened the door a little wider.
“I thinks Mr. Prior might’ve gorn to bed. ma’am,” he said, “but I’ll tell him you wants him.”
“Yes, please do that,” Claudia said.
The footman disappeared.
Claudia was extremely relieved when a few minutes later Mr. Prior, fully dressed, appeared.
“Miss Coventry!” he exclaimed in astonishment when he saw who was waiting. “I was not expecting you, least of all at this hour of the night! Is her Ladyship with you?”
“I have a great deal to tell you, Mr. Prior,” Claudia said, “and please, would it be possible for me to stay here for tonight? I don’t think that the cabby who brought me here will wait while I am talking to you.”
She had only just thought of the idea of staying in Grosvenor Square.
But she was certain that Mr. Prior would want to know every detail concerning Lady Bressley’s death.
Her luggage was brought in and she paid the cabby who gruffly acknowledged the tip she gave him.
Mr. Prior then took Claudia into a small sitting room that opened off the hall.
“Is there anything I can get you?” he asked. “Something to eat or drink?”
“I am sure it is too much trouble,” Claudia said, “but I have had nothing to eat since I left the Steamship that brought me across the Channel.”
Mr. Prior looked at her in amazement.
Then he hurried away to give a footman the order to wake the cook.
“I am sorry to be such a nuisance,” Claudia said apologetically, “but I am very tired and I have to tell you why I am here.”
Mr. Prior sat down in a chair.
“What has happened, Miss Coventry, do tell me?” he asked.
“I regret to have to inform you that Lady Bressley is dead,” Claudia replied.
When she saw the expression of shock on his face, she knew that it was the last thing he had expected her to say.
She suspected he had been thinking that she had been sent back in disgrace.
Or that for some other reason Lady Bressley had dispensed with her.
“I can’t believe it!” Mr. Prior sighed.
Claudia told him exactly what had happened.
He then asked her a great number of questions.
She told him how the Courier had been injured in the accident.
How an Englishman had befriended her and taken her with him to Seville, from where she had caught a train home.
She was glad when Mr. Prior’s cross-examination ended.
An omelette was produced, which, being so hungry, she much enjoyed.
Then a chambermaid, who had dressed quickly, took her upstairs.
It was to the bedroom she had occupied before she and Lady Bressley had left for Spain.
It seemed incredible that so much had happened since she had last slept there.
She was very tired and went to sleep without crying.
*
Everything seemed very different the next morning.
Claudia was sent in Lady Bressley’s carriage to the house in Chelsea.
She thanked Mr. Prior, learning that he had sent a woman to clean it after she had left.
Then he asked,
“You are not going to live there by yourself, Miss Coventry?”
“I have not yet decided what I shall do,” Claudia replied. “As you doubtless know, my parents are dead and Lady Bressley had promised that she would look after me.”
Mr. Prior shook his head.
“It is very sad,” he said. “I find it hard to believe that her Ladyship will never be with us again.”
The footman who escorted her to the little house carried in the luggage and set it down in the hall.
“Would you like me to take it upstairs, miss?” he enquired.
“That would be very kind,” Claudia answered him.
She knew that she would not be able to manage the trunks by herself.
Before he left she tipped him and the carriage drove away.
Claudia closed the door and told herself that she had to be practical and count how much money she had before she spent any more.
The payment for the main part of her journey had been left to the Marquis.
But she found her fares on the ship and train to London plus tips had left her with only twenty pounds of ready money to face the future with.
‘I will go to the Bank and see if there is anything in – Walter Wilton’s account,’ she told herself.
However she could remember her mother saying that she hoped he would soon have a benefit.
She had also added,
‘I find it embarrassing to keep giving orders to the butcher when I cannot pay him.’
Knowing that there would be nothing in the house to eat, Claudia thought that she must go to the shops.
Then she saw her hamper standing on the kitchen table.
When she opened it, she found that Mr. Prior had been more thoughtful than she had expected him to be.
The hamper had been filled again and besides food there was a tin of coffee beans.
‘Everyone is so – kind to me,’ she told herself.
At the same time she recognised that there was only one person she wanted to think of her.
That was the Marquis.
Because she knew that she had to put him out of her mind, she went upstairs.
As she entered her mother’s bedroom, the scent of white violets was still there.
Quite suddenly she felt like a child who had been hurt and wanted comforting.
She took off her hat and travelling cloak and went down on her knees beside her mother’s bed.
“Help me – Mama – help me,” she begged. “I don’t know – what to do and I keep – wishing that I had – not run away, but it would have been – wrong to stay with him – so help me now to forget him and decide – whether I live here or – try and go to my father.”
She found it hard to say the last words.
The Earl of Strathniven seemed a very frightening, strange old man and her mother had run away from him.
Why should he care about her?
He had made no effort to see her for seventeen years after she had been taken from his Castle.
Then she felt as if her mother was beside her.
She was smiling and Claudia was sure that her hand gently touched her fo
rehead.
The tears came into Claudia’s eyes, but they were tears of happiness.
She was not alone.
Her mother was still with her.
*
The house had been well cleaned, thanks to Mr. Prior.
When Claudia went downstairs again, she wondered if she should get in touch with Kitty.
Then she told herself that it was something that she could not afford.
She had to be careful with every penny until she could find some way of earning money.
She started to itemise her talents, but they were not very saleable.
She could sew, but so could most other women.
She could speak French, but who would want to employ her when she was so young?
Although she was well read, she was quite certain that no one would engage her as a Governess.
Without being conceited, she knew that she was too pretty.
‘I will have to go to my father,’ she thought despairingly.
If he rejected her – what then?
The question was inescapably there, however much she tried to evade it.
She went into the rooms of the house, one after another.
Because they were clean and tidy, there was nothing for her to do.
‘Tomorrow morning I will go to the Bank,’ she decided.
She knew that the food that had been put in the hamper would not last for ever and she would have to go to the shops.
She had to be very careful what she bought, otherwise she would have to sell her mother’s jewellery.
Then there would be nothing more except for the house itself.
She had the feeling that it would not fetch very much even with its contents.
Once again she went to Walter Wilton’s desk.
She had been through it once.
“I had better do so again,” she said aloud, “just in case there is something I have overlooked.”
Unexpectedly there was a knock on the door.
For a moment she thought that she must have imagined it.
Then it came again.
Reluctantly, because she was afraid that it would be something unpleasant, she moved from the sitting room into the small hall.
She had bolted the door because she had not expected to be going out again.
Slowly she drew back the bolt.
Then, as she opened the door, she gasped.
It was the Marquis who stood there.
CHAPTER SEVEN
For a moment Claudia could not believe that it was true and she just stared at him.
The Marquis walked in through the door, pushed it shut behind him and flung his top hat down on a chair.
Then, and Claudia did not know whether he moved or she did, she was in his arms.
He was kissing her passionately, fiercely, almost brutally.
She melted against him as he swept her into the Heaven where he had taken her when he had kissed her before.
This time it was far more vivid, far more thrilling and far more rapturous than anything she had ever known.
The Marquis went on kissing her until they were both breathless.
Then, suddenly aware that they were standing in the hall, he pulled her through the open door of the sitting room.
He did not take his arms from her and it was impossible for her to speak.
She only knew that she was aware of nothing except him.
He blazed like a brilliant light that enveloped her completely.
The Marquis pushed the sitting room door shut and then he was kissing her again.
Only when she gave a little murmur because he was so overwhelming did he raise his head.
Claudia buried her face against his shoulder and he said in a voice that she hardly recognised,
“My darling! My sweet! Are you all right? When I found I had lost you I thought I should go mad!”
It was impossible for Claudia to answer him and he went on,
“Forgive me! You have to forgive me! How could I have been such a fool as to think that I could live without you?”
He put his fingers under her chin and turned her face up to his.
“You are mine!” he said fiercely. “And we are being married this evening.”
Claudia could hardly take in what he was saying and yet somehow she managed to question,
“M-married?”
“Yes, married!” the Marquis said firmly. “And there will be no argument about it!”
He kissed her violently, as if he was fighting his relations who would question the wisdom of such a marriage.
Claudia now wanted to tell him the truth about who she was.
It was, however, impossible for her to speak when his lips were holding hers captive.
At last she was free and she began,
“Listen – please listen to – me!”
“All I can think about is that I have found you!” he insisted. “How could you do anything so utterly cruel as to go off like that, knowing that it would make me frantic?”
“I-I had to – go,” Claudia murmured.
“It was all my fault,” the Marquis admitted, “but it is something that will never happen again.”
His lips sought hers, but she tried to prevent him from kissing her.
“There is something I want – ” she tried again.
At that moment the door opened.
They instinctively moved apart as one of the Marquis’s servants came in to announce,
“Excuse me, my Lord, but there be a gentleman here askin’ to see the Lady of the House.”
Before the Marquis could reply, a man pushed past the servant and entered the room.
He was an impressive figure in a kilt with a plaid and carrying his bonnet in his hand.
His hair was nearly white and he had a small beard.
“I’m askin’,” he said in a broad Scottish accent, “to speak with Lady – ”
He stopped suddenly and looked at Claudia.
“I ken who you are, my Lady, without you tellin’ me,” he said, “You’re very much like your dear mother.”
Claudia, with an effort, moved towards him.
But, before she could reach him, the Marquis came in,
“Who are you?” he demanded, “and why are you here?”
The Scotsman looked at him as if he did not realise until this moment that he was in the room.
“My name, sir,” he said, “is Talbot McNiven. “I’ve come here on the orders of my Chieftain, to bring her Ladyship back to Scotland.”
“Your Chieftain?” the Marquis exclaimed. “And who is he?”
Claudia realised that he was being somewhat hostile.
He obviously thought that the man was an interloper and perhaps in some way attached to her.
“My Chieftain,” Talbot McNiven said in a dignified manner, “is the Earl of Strathniven.”
“The Earl of Strathniven?” the Marquis repeated. “I have shot on his moors when I was staying at Brorer Castle.”
The Scotsman smiled.
“The Earl owns some fine moorland,” he said, “and an excellent salmon river.”
“I agree,” the Marquis said. “But I cannot understand why you are here.”
Claudia had stood bewildered while the two men were talking and it was then that she intervened
“I was – going to – tell you,” she said. “I was – trying to – tell you.”
“Tell me what?” the Marquis enquired.
“Please – could I speak to you – alone?” Claudia said frantically.
She was afraid that what she was about to say would somehow upset him and she could not bear that it should happen with a stranger in the room.
As if the Marquis understood, he nodded,
“Of course.”
Turning to Talbot McNiven, he said,
“If you would make yourself comfortable here, I will ask my servant to bring you some refreshment while I have a private conversation with the lady you have apparently co
me to see.”
“Of course, sir,” Talbot McNiven agreed.
The Marquis took Claudia by the hand and drew her to the door.
In the hall the Marquis’s servant was standing by the open front door.
“See if you can find tea or coffee or anything to drink for the gentleman in the sitting room,” the Marquis ordered.
“Very good, my Lord,” the man replied.
The Marquis looked down at Claudia.
“Where shall we go?” he asked.
She was finding it hard to speak and she just pulled him by the hand up the stairs.
She took him into the drawing room, which was a pretty room.
It seemed to her, however, to be small and insignificant after the huge salons in the Palace.
The Marquis did not even look round. He just shut the door behind him and putting his arms around Claudia he said,
“Now, what is all this about? Who is this man and what does he want with you? What can you possibly have to do with the Earl of Strathniven?”
Claudia drew a deep breath.
“H-he is – my f-father,” she answered.
The Marquis stared at her.
Taking his arms from her, he asked,
“What are you saying? I don’t understand!”
“My mother was married to – the Viscount Niven – but she – ran away from him – when I was only a year old,” Claudia said, “and none of the – family ever spoke to her again.”
“Your mother ran away with Walter Wilton?” the Marquis asked as if he was trying to get it straight in his own mind.
Claudia nodded.
“I was – going to – tell you,” she murmured. “I was just – going to tell you.”
“And who was your mother before she married?” the Marquis asked.
“She was the daughter of the Earl of Porthcarian.”
“I know the present Earl,” the Marquis said, “and I think he must be your uncle, but you let me think when we first talked at the hotel and again at the Palace, that you were the daughter of Walter Wilton!”
“If you had – known who I – really was you would – never have asked me to help you in such a way, nor would you have thought I could carry it off. As it was, since I had no money after Lady Bressley was killed, it seemed – foolish not to – accept your suggestion that I act the part of – your wife. It – it was wrong of me, but – I suppose because of the accident – I was not thinking clearly.”
“And if you had refused me,” the Marquis said, “I would never have known that I loved you as I have never loved anyone before.”
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