Pride of the Courtneys (19 page)

‘Louella, how can I ask your forgiveness?’ he said to me on the day of
Evelyn’s funeral, as we, Georgiana, Charles and I, waited in the small
sitting-room where he and Georgiana had found so much happiness, in their
own suite of rooms.

‘Charles, my dear, that is all past. Please forget it, for all our sakes,
not least your own. It was only because of her love for you, she dreaded
losing you to anyone—to me as she thought.’

‘You’re so generous and good, Louella,’ Georgiana said, taking my hand. ‘
Evelyn must have been so jealous of you, poor thing.’

‘She never had a normal, happy life,’ said Charles. ‘Mother and father
were so demanding. I escaped their clutches when I went to college, but
poor Evelyn, by the time her release came at their death, had forgotten or
never learned how to enjoy life. But how I wish she had never done this,
and to you, Louella, of all people.’

‘Please try to forget it,’ I begged, ‘and think of her only with
affection. She is to be pitied, not blamed or despised.’

I must admit that it was because I was so relieved that the truth had
been discovered and that I was proved blameless in Bassett’s eyes, that I
had no feeling of anger or peevishness against those who had wronged me. I
merely wanted it to be forgotten.

‘Very well, I’ll try,’ and Charles smiled a little. ‘Come, it is time we
went.’

The funeral, which took place only three days after Evelyn’s body had
been found, was held amidst the gales and torrential rain which still
buffeted and massacred our valley. Fortunately, the little church
remained, like Courtney Hall, unscathed. How the funeral arrangements had
been made, I do not know. How different it was from Sir Hugh’s final
farewell, when not a soul in the village had stayed away, when very few
eyes were devoid of tears for the gentle man they had loved and whose son
they adored.

Evelyn was laid to rest in a corner of the churchyard not far from the
shadow of the proud Courtney tombstones.

Only Charles, Georgiana, Bassett and I attended the funeral as mourners,
and as soon as we returned to the Hall from the church, we were plunged
immediately back into the trouble which surrounded us all.

Bassett immediately changed his clothing and left the Hall to go out into
the wild storm to look for more lost animals reported to be missing from
the higher slopes.

Charles was soon called to attend to his patients. Several of the older
folk were beginning to suffer from the shock and the young doctor was
needed everywhere at once, it seemed. Georgiana and I were also finding it
difficult to find enough food to feed all our guests. Supplies were
dwindling fast, and with the road cut off out of the valley we could see
no way of getting further supplies.

‘When will it end, Louella?’ she said miserably. ‘Now the dagger is back,
surely it must stop.’

‘I fear the dagger has little to do with it,’ I said, ‘I only wish it
had, for then we should be nearing the end of our troubles.’

Little did I know how right I was in my disbelief in the dagger’s powers,
for as the night closed in once more, bringing with it a worsening of the
fearsome gale, Bassett had still not returned to the Hall.

All the men who had accompanied Bassett in search of stranded animals returned one by one before nightfall, saying that their master had instructed them to return to the Hall before darkness. He had gone on alone down to the valley to search the houses, those he could reach, for food.

With the tragedy of Evelyn's death still in our minds, we were all afraid for Bassett's safety. I tried to busy myself with work, but all too often I found myself peering into the wild darkness for some sign of his return.

And now, with the suddenness of a physical blow, I realised I loved Bassett. I was shaken as at last I admitted it to myself.

Never during all the unhappiness I had suffered recently, had I visited such utter depths of misery.

Bassett must be dead by this time, for it was almost eight hours since he had left the house shortly after four o'clock in the afternoon.

Too late I realised I loved him. Too late to tell him. Too late to try to erase the bitterness and hatred I had shown towards him. Here I was a virgin widow with no happy memories to console me, only a heart heavy with remorse and shame for my foolish pride.

The blessed relief of tears was denied me. I sat in my room, a solitary statue, gazing unseeingly from my window across the dark, flooded land, where I was sure, now, Bassett lay.

Unbidden thoughts from the past began to torture me: Bassett's warm smile when we first met: our first ride together before Millicent's arrival spoilt it: his belief in me at Georgiana's request when the dagger disappeared: his anger when I had argued with him over Georgiana's marriage to Cedric Rothbone and again when he met me returning from a moonlight meeting with Charles.

But my thoughts dwelt mainly on the times when he had smiled and laughed, when he had spoken directly to me, when the expression on his face had left me wondering. Whether he cared, if only a little, for me or not? Not until now had it mattered. But now, though it was too late, my mind searched back over the days and weeks remembering Bassett's every look, his tone of voice, searching in desperation for some sign of affection towards me.

With a sob I buried my head in my hands. I had to admit it, there had never been any time when I could say, with certainty, that he had shown any love for me. Even the times when his lips had brushed my brow in a gentle kiss, it held no more than brotherly affection. The only time he had kissed me with feeling, I had behaved so dreadfully and again shame swept over me at the memory.

I realised now that in all probability the reason why I had not made a serious attempt to escape marriage to Bassett was because I had loved him for some time, but my pride had blinded my reason.

But now my pride was swept away in humble grief and I acknowledged the truth.

The clock ticked away the minutes and one o'clock in the morning came and went with still no news. The rest of the family had now retired to their rooms. Though they were no doubt as distressed as I was, they evidently felt there was no more they could do.

A party of men from the village set off once more in the direction of the flooded houses to search for their master. I was impatient with them, for I felt they were searching in the wrong direction. Bassett was no fool. He would keep to the higher ground, attempting to gain access to those houses not badly affected by the rising water.

There was a soft knock upon my door, the way Bassett knocked. I jumped up and ran to open it. But Jonathan stood there, alone. His back even more bent, his face solemn, and I thought I saw the trace of tears glistening in his old eyes.

‘Madam, I thought you should know. The master's horse has returned home—riderless.'

I gasped and knew I turned white.

‘Oh Jonathan, the master has not—he …?'

‘No Madam. There is no word yet.'

‘Thank you,' I whispered, as he turned away and left me. I realised what I must do. I must go in search of Bassett myself.

I changed quickly into my riding habit and moved silently and swiftly down the stairs, through the hall and out into the wild night. In the stables I chose the horse I had ridden on that first ride with Bassett. I was thankful that Uncle James had taught me not only to ride but also to saddle a horse and care for the animal.

I mounted and left the stable, the horse's hooves clopping on the stones. I feared the household may hear our departure. But the gale was so violent, that I felt sure no sound would be heard above its roaring.

The wind tore at my riding habit and snatched my breath away. The rain lashed about me, and stung my face and hands. But I must keep on for whilst there was breath in my body, I would search for Bassett, or until I knew for certain that he was dead. I shuddered at the word and prayed that it would not be so.

The horse, poor creature, was terrified of the storm, but I knew she would not throw me. She was a stout-hearted animal and though she was afraid, it would take a great deal to make her forget the safety of her rider.

The search party had gone down towards the village to look for Bassett at the water's edge. I believed he would not, level-headed as always, endanger himself more than necessary and would keep to the hills.

So I turned the horse in the opposite direction from the tumbling floods. The moon, at times hidden by scudding storm clouds, gave uncertain light. My cloak billowed from my body and if it had not been tied about my neck, it would doubtless have been tossed down the hillside.

I leant closer to the horse's neck as the gallant creature straggled on, her hooves slipping on the sodden turf. But gradually we gained ground. We passed streams gurgling down the hillside, rushing to join the already overladen river.

Had it ever rained so before? Had all this been caused by the theft of the dagger? But surely, now the dagger had been returned to the Courtneys, the storm should cease and everything should come right.

There was no sense, I told myself sharply, in pinning hope on an age-old superstition. For the storm still raged, Bassett was still missing and here was I, a pathetic, bedraggled girl, vainly searching for the man I loved.

A light glimmered ahead. It was old Tom's hut. Reason told me I should head for it and rest a while before continuing the search. But my heart wanted to drive me forward, looking unceasingly for Bassett.

The horse stumbled and whinnied in pain, almost throwing me.

So reason won. I would be helpless without the horse and no man would thank me for driving the creature beyond endurance.

Instinct kept the horse on a steady path towards the light, for exhausted with caring for the villagers, my distress over Bassett and now physically buffeted by the storm, I was beyond guiding the animal in any way. It was all I could do to remain on her back.

The light shone from the shepherd's hut. I slid from the saddle and fell towards the door. Feebly, I knocked. I leant against the door jamb and waited. I heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back and footsteps.

The latch lifted and the light from the lamp blinded me. I blinked up at the tall man In the doorway and heard his startled exclamation.

‘Louella!'

‘Bassett,' my voice was a hoarse whisper of thankfulness.

Bassett held out his arms and I fell into them weeping.

It was some time before I could speak, think or hear coherently. Bassett held me and stroked my hair until my sobs had quietened. As I drew back and looked up into his face, I saw him wince in pain. I looked down swiftly to see his shirt was torn and stained not only with mud but with blood.

‘Bassett,' I cried, ‘your arm. Is it hurt?'

‘A little. It's nothing. Come and sit by the fire. You're soaked to the skin.'

‘Let me see your arm— how bad is it?'

‘You'll catch your death of cold.'

‘I shall attend to your arm first,' I said firmly.

He was so tired that he ceased to argue. He sat down in front of the fire whilst I found some clean bandage and first aid equipment in a small cupboard which Tom used. I bathed his arm and dressed it.

As I rolled his sleeve down again, Bassett put his other arm about my waist as I stood over him.

‘You were very brave to come and look for me, Louella.' He sighed and leant his head against me.

I looked down at his tousled dark hair, his clothes torn and stained, and my love for him flowed through me so strongly that I was sure he must feel it.

But before I betrayed my feelings for him, I must find out why he had married me.

‘Bassett,' I said hesitantly. My fingers hovered above his raffled hair—I longed to stroke it but dared not.

‘Yes?'

‘Why did you marry me?' His arm tightened about my waist but as he did not answer, I added, ‘ Was it to avoid marrying Millicent, as your mother wished?'

He looked up at me then.

‘How could you think such a thing? You know that's not true. I'd never marry but for …' He looked away and sighed.

‘… but for love,' he said softly. ‘I suppose it was very wrong of me to force you to marry me when you despise me so. But I love you, Louella. I've loved you from the first moment I saw you peeping over the banisters that first day you arrived.'

Joy surged through me, I felt faint with happiness. But I checked myself and allowed him to finish.

‘But the Courtney pride would not let me crawl to you, especially as the more I came to love you, the more you hated me. The times I've seemed so angry—when you returned from that meeting with Charles just before he eloped with Georgiana or when you refused to buy clothes for yourself—it was only because I loved you I was either consumed with jealousy or miserable because I loved in vain.

‘On our wedding day when you would not look at me, it almost broke my heart and the night I stood and watched you with the baby, the way he held your fingers so trustingly, and you looking so beautiful, it was all I could do to stop myself from taking you in my arms there and then.

‘I hoped, if we married, you might come to love me. I'm sorry.'

Bassett kept his eyes averted whilst he told me this and could not see my face, otherwise he could have seen my love for him written in my eyes.

I put my arms about him and pressed my cheek to his hair.

‘But I do love you,' I whispered.

Slowly, as if unable to believe the words, he rose and took me in his arms.

‘Say that again,' and as I did his eyes shone with a happiness I had never seen light the eyes of the master of Courtney Hall before.

And in that small hut away upon the hillside, I, drenched and bedraggled, and Bassett, his clothes torn, his arm hurt, we found the happiness for which we had both searched for so long.

And as if rejoicing in our happiness and love, the gale began to lessen and as dawn broke, a pale though watery sun, greeted us.