Call of the Heart (11 page)

“In the room opposite.”

“Stay here!”

He went out, closing the door behind him, and Lalitha found herself praying in her heart that he would be kind to the young man.

No-one understood, she thought, the horrible, insidious, snake-like fear which could run through one’s body, sapping one’s will to the point when one behaved foolishly simply because one could not think clearly.

Even now, she thought, she could hardly believe that she would wake in the morning without having to anticipate receiving blows and abuse all through the day.

She remembered how she was always alert, listening for the sound of her Step-mother’s voice, feeling a sudden sickness inside her at the thought that she might have done something wrong and would be punished for it.

She had never been free of the terror which was with her waking or sleeping. She could never escape from the physical shrinking from the pain that might be afflicted upon her.

Lord Rothwyn came into the room and she looked at him apprehensively.

He did not speak until he had sat down again at his desk, and then he said:

“I have re-instated him. Does that please you?”

Lalitha’s eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together.

“Have you really done that? Oh, I am glad!”

“I told you that I expect perfection,” Lord Rothwyn said.

“Yes, I know,” Lalitha answered, “but I think you also expect beauty, and beauty, like Cleopatra’s nose, is not always architecturally symmetrical.”

“That is true!” Lord Rothwyn agreed.

“And . . . happiness,” Lalitha said hesitatingly, “is . . . something of which one cannot make an . . . exact plan.”

Lord Rothwyn lay back in his chair and laughed.

“I can see you are going to upset all the schemes on which I have expended so much time and trouble,” he said, “and yet I cannot refute your arguments. Who taught you such things?” “Perhaps suffering as I have these past years,” Lalitha answered. “I have learnt that what everyone really wants in life is happiness. People think it comes from success, money, or Social position!”

She paused to go on:

“That may be true for a few, but I believe they are exceptional. Ordinary people are really seeking love and they can find it only when they are safe and secure, not harassed and hunted or terror-stricken, for there can be no happiness in... fear.”

There was a note of passionate intensity in Lalitha’s voice and Lord Rothwyn said:

“Let me ask you a question, Lalitha. Have you been happier, if not happy, these past weeks?”

“They have been more wonderful than I could ever explain to you,” Lalitha answered. “It is as if you brought me out of a deep, dark dungeon where there was no light, no hope, into the sun-shine.”

“Thank you,” Lord Rothwyn said softly.

As if she felt shy at speaking so intimately, Lalitha looked at the plans on the desk and asked:

“Will you take me this afternoon, as you promised, to see your Elizabethan house?”

“I meant to do that,” Lord Rothwyn said, “but I am going to ask you if you will excuse me, Lalitha, and let me take you tomorrow. I had forgotten an appointment in London which I think I ought to keep.”

He saw the disappointment on her face and said:

“I gave my promise and so I think you will be the first to agree that I should keep it.”

The curiosity in her eyes made him continue:

“A friend of mine, Henry Grey Bennet, is Chairman of a Parliamentary Select Committee. It deals with a number of injustices and various disorders, including the terrible traffic which is taking place at the moment in shipping young girls, many of them little more than children, to the Continent.” Lalitha’s eyes widened as she asked:

“What for?”

Lord Rothwyn chose his words with care:

“They are sold into what amounts to slavery,” he answered. “There are places in Amsterdam where English girls can be bought by the highest bidder as if they were cattle. Some of them are taken even further afield, to countries like Morocco, Turkey, and Egypt.”

“And the girls have no choice in the matter?”

“None at all!” Lord Rothwyn replied. “Many of them are kidnapped from off the streets. There is, I understand from my friend, a number of women who meet young girls when they come up from the country, at Coaching-Inns.”

“Why do they listen to strangers?”

“They have never been to London before and when a kind person offers them a bed for the night or the chance of lucrative employment, they agree eagerly— never to be heard of again!”

“How horrifying!” Lalitha exclaimed.

“This traffic is assuming such proportions,” Lord Rothwyn said, “that it is time that something is done about it officially. At the moment the law is very lax and those who operate what is called the ‘White Slave Trade’ are seldom brought to justice.”

“And do you think you can get a new law passed to prevent it?” Lalitha asked.

“My friend’s Bill has been accepted by the House of Commons,” Lord Rothwyn said. “This afternoon it comes before the House of Lords.”

He paused to add:

“My friend is not very confident of success, so I think, as I promised I would support it, I should go to London.” “But of course you must!” Lalitha agreed. “It is important, very important! I cannot bear to think of those poor girls.”

She paused for a moment and then asked in a low voice:

“Are they badly... treated?”

“If they do not do what is required of them,” Lord Rothwyn said, “they are beaten or drugged into submission.”

He saw the little shudder that went through Lalitha before she said:

“Then you must try to get the Act passed.”

“I will do my best,” Lord Rothwyn said, “but it means that I should leave for London almost immediately.”

“You will be back tonight?”

“I hope quite early in the evening,” he answered, “but definitely in time for dinner. Shall we dine together?”

“Could I do that?” Lalitha asked. “And I could wear one of my new gowns?”

“We will make a party of it,” Lord Rothwyn told her with a smile. “Your first evening downstairs. I think that calls for a celebration!”

Lalitha put up her hands, laughing.

“You are only making it an excuse to stuff me with more food,” she said. “I am getting so fat that all my beautiful new gowns will have to be let out!”

“When that happens I will buy you more!” Lord Rothwyn promised.

Lalitha hesitated a moment and then she said in a low voice:

“I would not... wish Your Lordship to . . . spend too much... money on me.”

He smiled as he replied:

“I promise you that what I have spent will not bankrupt me!” “You have given me ... so much,” Lalitha said, “I do not know how to ... thank you.”

“Shall we talk about it at dinner?” he asked. “I will leave Royal and the other dogs to look after you.”

Lalitha bent down to pat Royal, who had unobtrusively laid himself down at her feet.

“I am sure they will take care of me,” she said, “until... you return.”

All the same, she found that when Lord Rothwyn had gone she missed him.

Somehow the house seemed empty.

She had a strange, unaccountable feeling of loneliness that had not been there before.

She went with the dogs into the garden and admired the smooth lawns which were like velvet, the long flower-beds, filled with colour, which somehow reminded her of the great Picture Gallery inside the house.

She lingered outside the yew-hedged maze, afraid to go in alone in case she should lose her way.

She wandered down to the gold-fish pond which lay in a secret garden enclosed behind red brick Elizabethan walls.

It was all very lovely, the sun-shine was warm on her head, but she knew that she was counting the hours until Lord Rothwyn returned home.

‘It is because I am so anxious to hear if he has been successful in helping to pass the Act he is supporting,’ she thought.

But she knew the truth was that she wanted to know he was beside her and to talk with him on all the topics that appeared to interest them both.

Not wishing to tire herself before the evening, she went in from the garden and sat down to try and piece together the pieces of paper on which Lord Hadley had written his poem over three hundred years ago.

It was amazing that so much remained of his efforts despite the ravages of vermin.

Fortunately he had written on very thick and expensive parchment and his writing was firm and neatly formed. But the S’s were made as Fs, and piecing together even two or three pieces took a long time.

Lalitha had managed what appeared to be almost one sentence and was elated with her progress when the door opened and a footman said:

“Miss Studley to see you, M’Lady!”

Lalitha gave a little cry which rose irrepressibly to her lips and as she sprang to her feet she saw standing in the doorway Sophie.

She was looking entrancingly lovely in a travelling-gown of sky blue silk and a small bonnet trimmed with rose-buds.

She was smiling, but Lalitha trembled as she walked across the room.

“Are you surprised to see me?” Sophie asked. “Y-yes!”

Lalitha managed to answer.

“I wanted to have a talk with you,” Sophie said, “and I knew you would be alone this afternoon so I came here by carriage.”

“H-how did you... know that?”

Lalitha suddenly felt stupid and her teeth seemed almost to be chattering.

“It was reported in the morning newspapers that Lord Rothwyn was to speak this afternoon in the House of Lords,” Sophie replied. “That gave us an opportunity to have a little chat.”

Lalitha did not answer and Sophie looked round her. “What a very pleasant room!” she said. “May I sit down?”

“Yes ... yes, of course!” Lalitha faltered. “I am sorry ... but I am surprised at seeing you.”

“I thought you would be interested to hear how I was,” Sophie said. “But do not be afraid, Lalitha, Mama is not angry with you.”

“N-not ... a-angry?” Lalitha stammered.

“No. She understands that you could not help what you did,” Sophie said, “if in fact you are married to Lord Rothwyn, as he told me in the letter that I received.”

“He wrote to ... you?”

“Yes,” Sophie answered. “Yet strangely enough there has been no announcement of your marriage and no-one has been notified of it except me!”

Lalitha made no reply and Sophie went on:

“It leads me to think it is only a temporary arrangement you are enjoying here. Is that so?”

“I do not... know,” Lalitha answered.

“Let me tell you the truth, Lalitha,” Sophie went on.

“I love Lord Rothwyn, I always have! When I knew I had lost him, I realised that I had lost everything that mattered to me in life!”

Lalitha stared at Sophie in astonishment.

“But you never ... appeared to ... love him,” she protested. “You said you were ... marrying him only because he was ... wealthy.”

“I suppose I was shy at confessing to you how deeply my feelings were involved,” Sophie said, “and as I have already said, it was only after you had left to tell him that I must keep my promise to Julius that I faced the truth!”

Lalitha sat bewildered.

She could hardly credit that Sophie had really changed her mind, and yet she had never before heard her speak with such emotion.

“What about ... Mr. Verton?” she enquired.

“Julius never received the note that I wrote to him,” Sophie replied, “and so he is at my feet, wanting us to marry more ardently than ever before.”

“Then why are you not married?” Lalitha asked. “The wedding should have taken place nearly two weeks ago.”

“It was not the Duke who died,” Sophie answered. “That was just a joke on the part of Lord Rothwyn and not one in particularly good taste. But an Aunt of whom Julius was very fond did pass away and therefore out of decency our wedding must be postponed for two months.”

“Oh, I see!” Lalitha exclaimed. “And in the . . . meantime you have... realised that you love ... Lord Rothwyn.”

“That is right!” Sophie agreed, “and so I am asking you Lalitha, to give me back what has always belonged to me.”

“I do not... understand.”

“It is quite simple,” Sophie answered. “Lord Rothwyn loves me, as you well know.”

“He was ... angry with ... you,” Lalitha said. “That is why he ... made me take . . . your place ... forced me to do so.”

“In revenge,” Sophie said with a light laugh, “and he made that very clear in his letter! But you cannot imagine for one moment, Lalitha, that he wished to marry anyone but me! He adores me! He worships me! And really love does not change over-night!”

“No ... I ... suppose ... not,” Lalitha said almost beneath her breath.

“I therefore have a very sensible plan,” Sophie said, “and one which has Mama’s full approval.”

“What is ... that?” Lalitha asked apprehensively.

“It is that you should leave here at once,” Sophie answered. “Mama was sure that you would wish to join your old Nurse, of whom you were always so fond. She has therefore sent you a present of twenty pounds— think of it, Lalitha—twenty pounds! It is a lot of money!”

“I cannot just . . . leave like . . . that,” Lalitha protested. “His Lordship has been so ... kind and he has made me... well.”

“I know exactly what he has done,” Sophie said, and for the first time her voice was hard.

“You ... you know?” Lalitha enquired.

“There are people who are prepared to tell us exactly what goes on!”

“Do you mean the... servants?”

“There is no need for us to go into details,” Sophie replied evasively. “What I am suggesting, Lalitha, is common sense, as I am sure you will see. You cannot inflict yourself on Lord Rothwyn forever, now can you?”

“N-no.”

“So instead of embarrassing him by hanging about when he has no reason for keeping you now that I am back in his life,” Sophie said, “and ready to give him everything he asks of me, it would be best for you to disappear.”

“I would wish to say ... good-bye, and thank him.” “What for?” Sophie asked. “He has used you deliberately to hurt me. You were a tool—a weapon he had at hand at that particular moment. If I had sent a maid-servant in your place, exactly the same thing would have happened.”