108. An Archangel Called Ivan (13 page)

“Then I suppose,” Arliva said bitterly, “any mother would welcome me as her daughter-in-law, not because I am a suitable wife for her son but because my father, when he died, left me so much money.”

“As we are being frank,” the Countess continued, “your money would undoubtedly be an asset in any family and certainly very welcome in ours.”

There was a pause before Arliva retorted in a cold voice,

“I think that this conversation is quite unnecessary. You have brought me here in a most ignominious manner that will doubtless cause a great deal of worry and distress when I am found to be missing. I therefore insist on being returned immediately to Wilson Hall.”

The Countess laughed.

“You can hardly expect me to agree to that after I have gone to so much trouble taking you away. In fact to save them worrying over you I have left a note for Lord Wilson saying you had an unexpected call from London as one of your relatives is dying and has asked for you to be at her deathbed. You therefore left immediately and will let him know when it’s possible for you to return.”

“You had no right to do that,” Arliva shouted. “I can only insist that you send me back and I hope it will be more comfortable than the way I was transported here!”

“It was the only possible way that I could take you away without you protesting or refusing to obey me,” the Countess replied. “Quite frankly, my dear girl, you had better make up your mind to accept the situation without too much fuss.”

“I will make a great deal of fuss if you force me to marry your son. I consider it an outrageous action on your part and one which would undoubtedly infuriate my father if he was alive.”

Quite unexpectedly the Countess laughed again.

“I suppose that your father was always afraid of you being kidnapped and he would have to pay a large amount of ransom to get you back.”

She paused for a moment before she went on,

“Well, instead of asking for money, I am merely arranging for you to marry my son. If you are sensible, you will agree with the least palaver about it.”

Arliva put the water glass down on a table near the sofa.

Then she rose to her feet, a little unsteadily, but still with a dignity she thought her father would have approved of.

“I just seem to be repeating myself over and over again,” she said. “But I want to make it absolutely clear to you that I have no intention of marrying your son or, as I have said before, anyone else at the moment.”

She paused and then continued,

“I therefore insist that you send me back to Wilson Hall where I know they will be waiting anxiously for me despite the letter you sent in my name, which I consider a ridiculous act on your behalf.”

“I agree with you that there is no need to us to go on repeating ourselves,” the Countess said, rising to her feet. “I hope that you will be comfortable in this bedroom where you will be staying until you agree to marry my son. As apparently it is difficult for you to realise that you have no alternative but to agree to what I have planned.”

For a moment Arliva could not think of anything to say.

The Countess, after waiting a second or two more, walked back towards the door.

As she reached it, she turned and snarled,

“As it is a big mistake for you not to reconsider the situation you find yourself, you will receive no food or drink of any sort until you have made up your mind.”

She did not wait for Arliva to reply, but went out, slamming the door behind her and turning the key in the lock.

For a moment Arliva could only stare at the door as if it was impossible for her to fully understand what the Countess had said.

Then she knew that what she had heard was true, although it seemed incredible.

In fact until she agreed to marry the Earl, she would be given nothing to eat or drink.

She would be starved into giving the Countess the answer she had demanded so unsubtly.

Arliva walked quickly to the window and looked out. If she had thought of escaping from that window there was no chance.

Sturton Castle, where she knew the Countess lived, had been renovated rather badly at the beginning of the last century.

They had covered the old bricks with plaster, but kept the walls, which had been there, according to the family archives, since the twelfth century.

Thus it was a considerable drop from the window of the room where Arliva was imprisoned onto the ground below which was part of the garden.

Looking down she saw that there was a flagstone path round the perimeter of The Castle.

This meant that if she attempted to jump from the window onto the ground she would smash herself to pieces on the path.

Without looking at the door, she was quite sure that it was firmly locked and there was no exit that way.

There was a door at the end of the room.

She then opened it, but found that it was merely a wardrobe room and anyway it could only be reached from the bedroom.

‘What am I to do? What on earth am I to do?’ she asked herself.

She then realised that she was really frightened.

Because she had admired her father so much and always listened to everything he told her, she remembered him saying,

“If you are frightened and I myself have often been really frightened in my travels, you must use your brain. Your body may want to run away, but it is your instinct that will guide you and show you the best and safest way of confronting the enemy.”

‘I know what I will do,’ Arliva thought. ‘I will offer the Countess a large sum of money to set me free. Surely she will agree to that.’

As she thought of it, she knew instinctively that the Countess would refuse, realising that it would be better to have a daughter-in-law who was a millionairess who would have to stay in the family once she was married.

‘I have to find a way. I have to!’ Arliva insisted to herself.

Then she was praying, praying fervently that God would tell her how to save herself.

Or perhaps, by some miracle, someone would save her.

“Help me! Please help me!” she cried. “I know if I marry this man who I dislike and have to put up with his dreadful mother, I would rather die.”

Equally she knew that she wanted to live.

She wanted to be with the Wilson children who by now would be wondering where she could be and having to go back to the house without her.

How could she have ever imagined that anything so horrible would be planned, simply because she had money?

“I hate my money!” she cried. “Oh, Papa, why did you leave me so much?”

She asked the question aloud and felt as if her voice echoed back to her from the ceiling.

She had run away from her money, but it had ended in her being a prisoner.

A prisoner who was to be starved into submission.

A prisoner who must marry a man she hated and she was certain that she had nothing in common with.

‘If I offer them everything I now possess,’ she told herself, ‘I am quite certain that they would rather have me simply because my money is increasing year by year and they want all of it.’

She walked up and down her room until she was too tired to walk any further.

Then she flung herself onto the bed, still thinking desperately of some way she could persuade the Countess to let her go.

“What can I do?” she asked the ceiling.

She gave a deep sigh.

‘Oh, help me, please help me, God,’ she prayed. ‘I cannot be so weak and feeble as to give in to the inevitable, just because, unlike other women, I have a large fortune.’

*

No one came near her and she lay on the bed until it became obvious that it was getting late and the sun was sinking in the sky.

She went over to the window to watch it disappear behind the trees.

The first star came out in the sky and it was then that she was praying again.

Praying with a fervency that seemed to make her prayers so real and so strong that she felt they flew up into the sky and passed through the stars.

But they must reach her father and he would guide her in what she should do.

‘Help me, Papa, help me! It’s your money that has made me a prisoner here. Although I feel like saying I would rather die than marry the Earl, I know I will give in simply because I will be too hungry to go on any longer.’

The stars twinkled back at her and the moon began to shine on the garden below.

Yet there was no answer to Arliva’s question.

How could she escape from marrying the Earl?

At the end of the second day with nothing to eat, Arliva was feeling very low and extremely depressed.

‘This just cannot go on,’ she thought. ‘I know that I will collapse soon and then they will do what they want with me.’

Almost as if in answer to her thoughts, she heard the door unlock and the Countess came in.

Arliva did not move from the chair she was sitting in. She just stared at her in a contemptible manner.

“I have just come here to inform you,” the Countess announced, “that we are leaving tomorrow morning to see the Canon who lives a little way from here. He will marry you and Simon the next day.”

She paused obviously waiting for Arliva to make a reply and, when there was silence, she went on,

“You will be married in the private Chapel which adjoins The Castle. But the Canon is most insistent that he always sees the bride and bridegroom before he marries them.”

She paused for a while to draw in her breath before she added in a harsher tone,

“I consider it quite unnecessary when he is also the private Chaplain to Simon. However, he insists firmly and therefore we are taking you to see him this afternoon.”

Arliva still did not speak and after a moment the Countess went on,

“One word from you that you don’t wish to marry Simon and you will be starved until you become utterly and completely unconscious and so unable to argue about it anymore.”

She made a little sound which was almost one of disdain before she asserted,

“There will be no arguments that you are helpless and that is what you will be if I arrange the wedding for the end of the week when you will be unconscious.”

Still Arliva did not speak.

After a moment, as if she was disappointed at the reception she had received, the Countess turned round and walked from the room.

She slammed the door behind her and turned the key in the lock.

Arliva put her hands up to her face.

She wondered how much more of this she could bear.

Then, almost as if she could hear her father talking to her, he was telling her not to despair.

She remembered once when things were not going well for him he had said,

“Never give up until you are utterly defeated and that is something that you and I, my darling, must never be.”

‘Perhaps there will be some way I can escape when we reach the Canon,’ she thought.

Arliva had the idea that it would be very difficult because she felt so weak, as, even if the way was clear for her to run, she knew that she would be unable to do so.

At luncheontime when she was given nothing to eat or drink, she thought that the Countess and her son would be gorging themselves downstairs.

It was then that the Countess came up to fetch her.

Because she knew there was no point in arguing about whether she went or not, Arliva had already put on her small hat and she did not bother with a coat or a wrap as it was very warm.

She was quite certain that they would be driven to see the Canon in a closed carriage.

She was quite right.

She and the Countess sat on the back seat and the Earl sat opposite them.

He was looking, she thought, more unpleasant and more idiotic than usual.

They drove in silence until, as they turned in at the gate of the Canon’s residence, the Countess said, speaking for the first time,

“Now just behave yourself and remember that one word of protest that the wedding is not to your liking and you will return to The Castle to starve for several more days.”

Arliva did not reply and the carriage ground to a standstill.

On the Countess’s orders, Simon helped her down from the carriage and she felt herself shudder as his hand touched her arm.

They went in. Not to the Canon’s house, but to the Chapel that was built on the side of it.

Inside the Chapel was empty at that time of day.

The Verger told the Countess that His Reverence was in his private room.

The Countess then looked round the Chapel as if to make quite certain that there was no one there.

Next she said to Arliva,

“Sit down and wait here! The Canon will see you after he has spoken to Simon.”

As if she thought that she could discern a glimmer of hope in Arliva’s eyes, she continued,

“I will escort him and you. You know full well the consequences if you make any protest.”

Then she followed the Verger who was waiting for them.

Arliva walked past the rows of pews and sat down on a chair facing the altar.

She felt that she must go on praying even though, with the Countess escorting her son and her, it would be impossible for either of them to say that they did not wish to be married.

She knew that, if she was to be starved for very much longer, she would find it impossible to think and would then become completely helpless in the Countess’s hands.

For a moment she felt almost too weak to kneel down, so she sat in her chair clasping her hands together and closing her eyes.

‘Help me! Please God help me,’ she prayed again and again.

She felt that she was utterly alone in a hostile world with no one to hear her.

Then surprisingly she heard a voice beside her that made her start.

A man had obviously just come into the Chapel.

And he had moved as she had into a row of chairs facing the altar.

“How is it possible,” he asked in a low voice, “that someone so beautiful should look so unhappy?”

She turned her head and saw that the speaker was a man who was tall and good-looking and very obviously a gentleman.

As she met his eyes and saw the compassion in his expression, without thinking she cried out,