An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition (144 page)

“Can you trust your valet?” she asked.

Lord Brecon considered.

“He has not been with me very long. It would be better to instruct him to fetch Bateson, who was here before I was born.”

If when the valet came to the door he was surprised to find his lordship and her ladyship together at such an hour, he gave no sign of it.

“Tell Bateson I require his presence here,” Lord Brecon said, “and then you can go to bed. I shall not require you further tonight.”

“Thank you, m’lord.”

The valet withdrew quietly and a few minutes later Bateson appeared. Caroline thought that he must have dressed hurriedly, but there was no sign of it as, having knocked quietly at the door, he entered and waited in attentive silence for his lordship’s commands.

“Come in, Bateson, and shut the door,” Lord Brecon said.

The butler did as he was told, and then as he crossed the room Lord Brecon said,

“Bateson, I am in trouble.”

The old man drew a deep breath.

“What sort of trouble, m’lord?”

“The worst possible,” Lord Brecon said. “Bateson, you were here with my father. Tonight someone has placed the corpse of a boy who has been flogged to death in the library. My riding crop is beside it.”

The butler’s face was suddenly convulsed.

“Oh, Master Vane!” he gasped. ‘How could that be?”

“It is question I myself have asked,” Lord Brecon replied, “and so far we have no explanation, save that her ladyship on looking from her casement saw two men carrying the body to the library window which was opened by someone within the house.”

“Then surely, m’lord, they cannot accuse you?” Bateson asked.

“It would be difficult to prove it was not me, Bateson, for besides reviving the stories which circulated at the time of my father’s death, you and a number of other people heard me threaten that same boy this morning when he struck Mr. Warlingham’s horse.”

“Oh, m’lord, m’lord,” the butler said.

Lord Brecon looked at him and then said quietly,

“Bateson, I did not murder the boy. Do you believe me?”

It seemed to Caroline there was a sudden light in the old man’s eyes.

“I believe you, Master Vane. I have never known you anything but a truthful lad, but there’s others that won’t believe you, as well your lordship knows.”

“That is the truth,” Lord Brecon said, “and that is why, Bateson, her ladyship has persuaded me to go away tonight while enquiries are being made. I think it is wrong to leave, I believe I should stay here, but her ladyship is insistent.”

“I’m sure her ladyship is right, m’lord. If we are to find out more about this sorry affair, ‘tis better that your lordship were not here.”

“But we must hurry,” Caroline said in a sudden fever of impatience. “His lordship requires a horse, Bateson, the fastest in the stables, and I want a groom to leave immediately for Knole with a message for my Lord Milborne. Will you see to it, for we know we can trust you?”

“You can trust me, m’lady,” Bateson said, “and there’s two of them that you can trust in the stables, for I’ll vouch for them. You had best change, m’lord. I won’t be more than five or ten minutes getting your horse round.”

He turned towards the door and as he reached it, he looked back, his old face working, his eyes and mouth striving against the tears that seemed about to shake him.

“We’ll save you, Master Vane, never fear.”

The door closed behind him and Caroline looked at Lord Brecon.

“He loves you too, Vane.”

Lord Brecon did not answer, but she realised that he was deeply moved by the old man’s affection.

“While you change, I will go to my room and write a letter for Newman and one to Uncle Francis. Hurry, Vane.”

In answer he took her hand and raised it to his lips. It was no conventional kiss he laid on her fingers. For a moment she quivered at the touch of his mouth, ready to throw herself into his arms, but with an effort she restrained herself and turned away lest the weakness of her love should delay him.

She wrote the letters and, as she was sanding the one to Lord Milborne, she heard the door of her bedchamber open and saw that Vane stood in the doorway. He had changed into riding clothes. His coat was of steel-grey whipcord, his polished Hessian boots gleamed in the firelight, and it seemed to her suddenly horrible that he should look so elegant and immaculate when he must slip from his own house as if he were indeed the criminal his cousin would make him out to be.

But there was no time for such fancies. Caroline rose from the bureau and crossing the room gave him the letter to Newman which he put inside his coat pocket.

“Speak with no one else at Mandrake if you can help it,” she said. “The less curiosity you arouse the better. It would be wisest to ride not to the front door but into the stable yard.”

“I understand,” he said and looked deep into her eyes.

“God go with you, Vane, my love,” she said, and her voice broke on the words.

In answer he drew her into his arms, his mouth was on hers for a long, long moment, and then in silence they descended the stairs side by side. It was very dark in the Great Hall save for a single candle burning beside the door. It had been newly lit and Caroline wondered at it until with a start of relief she saw Bateson come from the shadows, shadows where he must have been waiting.

“I can hear the horses coming round this instant, m’lord,” he said and sure enough as he opened the door there was the sudden ring of hoofs on the gravel.

Caroline looked out and saw the horses being brought from the stables. One was ridden by a groom, the other, a magnificent black stallion, was pulling the stable lad who led him almost off his feet, prancing and rearing as if in the very agony of desire to be away.

The sky was growing light and in a very short while now the sun would be up. It was just light enough to see one another’s faces. Lord Brecon turned and looked at Caroline. For a moment they looked into each other’s eyes, conscious of all the things that were left unsaid, of all the love that might have been expressed, and of an agony at the thought of being apart which was beyond expression.

Then without touching her, without another word, Lord Brecon went down the steps and mounted the black stallion. It reared up with him and then, as if it knew that it had met its master, seemed suddenly docile.

Lord Brecon swept off his hat and turning the horse’s head, rode away down the drive. He was almost instantly lost to sight in the shadow of the oaks.

Caroline remembered that she held the letter to Lord Milborne. She gave it into the keeping of the groom.

“Ride as swiftly as you can,” she said. “I collect that Knole is not far from here.”

“Tis but four miles across the fields, m’lady.”

“Very well, then, it should not take you long. When you arrive, demand that my letter be taken immediately to the Chief Justice. Say that it is of the utmost import and let none gainsay you.”

“Very good, m’lady.”

The groom touched his forelock and turned his horse towards the gate which led into the park. Caroline stood watching him out of sight.

“Come in, m’lady,” Bateson whispered, and she turned to look at him in a startled way.

“They have gone, Bateson,” she said in a dazed manner.

‘Yes, m’lady, and now we can but wait until the morning.”

“I will go to my room. When the household ask for his lordship, you had best say that he was called away on an urgent matter. It does not signify what you tell them, for when Lord Milborne arrives, he will learn the truth from me.”

“Very good, m’lady,” Bateson said. “And the body in the library? You would not have me move it?”

“No, no, on no account, and forbid everybody else to touch it. I would have the Chief Justice see it just as it is.”

“Very good, m’lady,” Bateson repeated again and then with an utter weariness which seemed to drag her down as if her body were loaded with lead weights, Caroline climbed the stairs.

She was shivering when she reached her own bedchamber and without troubling to undress she crept beneath the bedclothes, for warmth. Sleep was, she believed, impossible, yet later it seemed as if Vane’s arms were round her and his lips were on hers, so she must have been dreaming. But mostly as the hours crept by she thought of what lay below her, of Gervase Warlingham and Mrs. Miller, of their plots and schemes and how, somehow, by some miracle she would confront them with the proof of their own evil.

As soon as it was seven o’clock, Caroline rang the bell for Maria. When she answered it, Caroline knew immediately from the expression on her face and the unusual pallor of her cheeks that the horror in the library had been discovered.

For a moment Maria seemed inclined to keep the news from her but when Caroline pressed her as to what was the matter, she related what one of the housemaids had discovered and what a turmoil there was below stairs.

“The girl who found the poor lad is still having hysterics, m’lady, screaming, laughing and crying she is, and there’s nothing they can do with her. Mrs. Timmins swooned dead away and it took five minutes to revive her. Your ladyship has never seen such a to-do. Only Mr. Bateson seems calm among them all, and he says nothing can be done until your ladyship has been called, for his lordship is away.

“His lordship had to leave the house on important business,” Caroline said.

“That’s what Mr. Bateson said, m’lady, and of course I said nothing, but oh, m’lady, what do we do now?

Mentally Caroline shook herself.

“There’s a great deal to be done, Maria,” she said. “Dress me with all possible haste and as soon as I am dressed, run across the fields as fast as your legs can carry you and ask at the caravan if they saw ought last night.”

“Oh, m’lady, let us pray they did,” Maria said, “for otherwise we are indeed undone!”

“You are quite certain they understood your message?” Caroline asked.

There can be no mistake on it,” Maria replied. “I spoke with the boy Gideon and also with Mr. Hackett, his father. A pleasantly spoken man he is, to be sure – and they both promised that they would keep watch to the very best of their ability.”

Caroline sighed.

“We shall know nothing until you get there, Maria. Hurry now and bring me my clothes.”

It did not take Caroline long to dress and she forced herself to sip her chocolate while Maria did her hair, knowing that it was essential for her to keep calm and not to get flustered, however infectious the rising hysteria around her might prove.

She had just finished dressing when there came aloud knock at the door. Maria crossed the room, but before she reached the door it opened and Mrs. Miller stood there. When she saw that Caroline was already dressed, her eyes widened in surprise.

“I had not thought you would have been called, Ma’am,” she remarked, “for I have come to bring you news of a very terrible nature.”

“I know already that which you have come to tell me,” Caroline said coldly. “You will oblige me, Mrs. Miller, by going at once to your room and staying there. If, when the Chief Justice arrives, his lordship wishes to speak with you, a message will be brought to you ”

“The Chief Justice?” she questioned.

“Yes, my Lord Milborne. I have asked his lordship to come here as swiftly as possible,” Caroline answered, “and now, Mrs. Miller, kindly obey my command.”

The woman was too taken aback for the moment to know what to say. She went from the room and Maria closed the door behind her. She would have spoken, but Caroline said quickly,

“Go now at once to the caravan, Maria. Tell Bateson to let me know immediately his lordship arrives. I wish to speak with him before anyone else.”

“I understand, m’lady,” Maria answered.

Though she had sent such an instruction, Caroline found it impossible to wait in her bedchamber. She went first to the top of the stairs, then to the centre of the hall, and finally, as her impatience mounted, she waited on the doorstep itself, her eyes searching the long drive for the first sight of Lord Melbourne’s blue and silver coach. She had not long to wait.

It was just eight o’clock when she had her first sight of the horses and postilions and a few minutes later the coach drew up with a flourish. A footman sprang down to open the door and as Lord Milborne stepped out Caroline ran down the steps her arms outstretched.

“Oh, Uncle Francis, thank God you have come,” she cried. “Never have I been so glad to see anyone!”

“I came as speedily as I could, my dear,” he said. “Are you indeed in such serious trouble, Caroline? Your letter perturbed me!”

“Nothing could be more serious, Uncle Francis,” Caroline said. “Come into the house, I must speak with you where no one can overhear us.”

She took him into the drawing-room and forgetful of everything save her own urgency began to pour out the story, first of what had occurred the night before then beginning at the very beginning, she told of her meeting with Vane, of her trick to enter the Castle and of her awakening to love.

It was Bateson who remembered that his lordship would require breakfast, and long before Caroline had reached the end of her tale he came into the room bringing trays of food and drink, setting them on a table in front of the window.

Caroline was impatient at being arrested in the middle of her story, but Lord Milborne looking at her pale cheeks and the dark lines under her eyes, said,

“I insist, child, that you join me at breakfast. I know that what you have to tell me is of the greatest import, but if you fade away from lack of nourishment, no one will benefit.”

“Yes, Uncle Francis,” Caroline said obediently, but at the same time she got to her feet and moved about restlessly until at last Bateson and the footmen withdrew and they were alone again.

Lord Milborne sat himself at the table and poured out a cup of coffee.

“Continue, Caroline,” he said quietly. “You had reached the point in your narrative where you had married this young man you had known for but a few weeks.”

“Oh, Uncle Francis,” Caroline said, “it sounds terrible when told so briefly, but I love him. I loved him from the first moment we met. Cannot you understand that love is sometimes like that? Not a thing that grows slowly and leisurely, but something which is already there, so strong, so overwhelming that it seems as if, it must have existed since the beginning of time.”