The Incredible Honeymoon (Bantam Series No. 46) (15 page)

It would be bad enough if the French penetrated their disguise, but what if the Prussians did!

She felt herself tremble at what might happen, knowing that it would be hard to explain who they were or to get anyone to believe them.

Then she told herself that whatever happened she was with the Duke.

The secret island on which they existed in a strange unreal world had now been left behind. They were crossing the hostile sea which she had sensed was always waiting for them outside.

But she told herself almost despairingly that, while the
Duke would be travelling to safety and to England, she was returning to loneliness, to being unwanted as she had been all her life.

Once he was back with the Marchioness there would be no-one for her to look after, to comfort, to sustain.

Perhaps sometimes, she told herself, he would want her to massage his forehead.

Perhaps because they had been through so much together there would be things to talk about which other women could not share.

But when she thought of the Marchioness’s beauty, she knew that even a Worth gown could not make her look like a fairy on a Christmas tree, or have the unbelievable loveliness of the woman who called in uninvited to see them the first night they were married.

“It is hopeless!” Antonia told herself.

At the same time there were two, perhaps three days left when she would be alone with the Duke!

Even to sit beside him in the front of the cart, realising how grotesque they both looked in their ragged clothes, the Duke’s face painted with small-pox eruptions, was still an indescribable thrill.

The village where Tour was to leave the horses for them was 10 miles out of Paris and off the beaten track.

They left the main road for a dusty and twisting lane.

Antonia realised with relief that they were getting into an uninhabited part of the country where there were thick forests and only occasional small and unimportant hamlets.

Labby had suggested they should leave by Port de St. Cloud because the Prussian lines of investment were nearer to Paris there than at any other place.

“The sooner you are away from the City and its environment, the better. There is always the chance that you might encounter some officious French Official who would turn you back. And whatever you do, keep north when you are through the German lines otherwise you will find yourself in Versailles which is full of Uhlans.”

“Do you think we are going in the right direction,” Antonia asked the Duke tentatively.

“I have a good bump of location,” he answered, “and I have studied the map very carefully. Once we have found the horses we should have an uninterrupted ride across country.”

He spoke in a calm, matter of fact manner. Then he said:

“You are not frightened, Antonia?”

“No
...
no,” she answered, “not
...
when I am with
...
you.”

He looked down at her, muffled in her ragged shawls and said with a hint of laughter in his voice:

“I have said it before: this is an incredible honeymoon.”

“It will be something to tell our grandchildren,” Antonia replied.

Even as she spoke she realised she had assumed that they would have grandchildren and that entailed first having children.

The Duke did not say anything and merely drove on, keeping the mule at a steady pace and handling the reins with an expertise that he would have shown towards his own superb horses.

They came upon the village unexpectedly at a turn of the road and the Duke drew to a stand-still.

“Is it
...
safe?” Antonia asked.

“I am just making certain that everything is quiet and there is no sign of any Prussians. If there is anything suspicious I will lie down in the back of the cart. It is always best to be prepared, Antonia, and not to take risks.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, “you think of everything.”

“I am thinking of you,” he said sharply.

But she wondered if in fact he was resenting that he must look after a woman instead of being able to forge ahead and hurry back to England.

She was well aware that if she had not been with him he would have left several days earlier.

It was not only because he doubted his own strength that he had listened to her pleadings and to Labby’s good common sense, but also because he realised that having Antonia with him was an added responsibility.

The village appeared quiet and safe in the morning sunshine.

The Duke approached a small Inn, called Le Coq d’Or.

He drove the mule into the yard and handed Antonia the reins.

Then jumping down from the cart he went to the pump in the centre of the yard and washed his face.

‘It may be taking a risk,’ Antonia thought, ‘but it would certainly be unwise to frighten the French who are holding the horses for us.’

She slipped the papers they had used to escape through the barriers, down the front of her dress.

Then as the Duke disappeared into the Inn she climbed down from the cart and went to the mule, patting his neck and talking to him in a voice which all horses seem to understand whatever their nationality.

The Duke came back with a thick-set elderly man, who Antonia guessed was the proprietor of the Inn.

She noticed that the Duke had removed the ragged garments which he had been wearing over his riding-clothes, except that he still had on his feet a pair of disreputable toe-less shoes.

Antonia burrowed in the straw and produced his riding
-
boots.

Then as she heard the two men talking inside the stable she took off the shawls and the full, ragged skirt which covered her own riding-habit.

It was very elegant because she had not thought to bring with her the one she had bought in London, knowing it would be far too severe to be worn riding in the Bois.

Instead she had on a habit of thin pique which the Empress had made all the vogue and in which Worth had dressed all the fashionable Courtesans as well as the Ladies of Quality.

The only thing Antonia had not dared to bring with her was her riding-hat, but she had a scarf of the same colour as her riding-habit with which she could cover her hair.

She
w
a
s
however aware that her hair must look lamentable without the fashionable coiffure which had done so much to change her appearance from a dowdy English bride to the
chic
woman with whom Labby had fallen in love.

Realising the mule had found some grass to eat amongst the weeds growing in the courtyard she left him and went into the Inn.

A woman, whom she guessed to be the wife of the proprietor, was very willing to show her upstairs to a poorly furnished bed-room, where however she could wash and there was a mirror in which she could arrange her hair.

She was as quick as she could be because she was quite certain the Duke would wish to get away. In a few minutes she was at least more presentable and had arranged the gauze scarf over her up-swept hair before she hurried downstairs.

As she had expected, she found the Duke waiting for her impatiently. The horses were saddled and Antonia saw that Tour had managed to procure a side-saddle for her.

They were rough-looking, not particularly prepossessing beasts, but she realised they were sturdy and would undoubtedly endure the long journey better than well-bred and faster animals.

The Duke had a glass of wine in his hand and the proprietor handed one to Antonia.

She was just about to protest that she did not need anything alcoholic to drink, when she thought that the Duke had ordered it for her, and it might be a long time before they would get anything else to drink.

This idea however was dispelled when the proprietor said:

“I put the food the gentleman ordered for you,
Monsieur,
in the saddle-bag, and there are two bottles of wine in
Madame’s
.”

“Thank you again,” the Duke said. “I am extremely grateful.”

He tipped the man and helped Antonia onto her saddle.

For a moment she was close to him, his hands were touching her, and she felt a thrill like quicksilver run through her.

Then the Duke had mounted his own horse, and without speaking they rode from the Inn, through the small village and out into the open country.

“So far so good, Antonia,” the Duke said with a note of satisfaction in his voice, after they had travelled some way.

“Tour has obviously got through.”

“And so have we,” the Duke smiled. “As you said just
now, Antonia, this is a story that will undoubtedly enthrall our children.”

He did not look at her as he spoke but Antonia felt the colour rise in her cheeks.

“Please God, let him give me ... a child,” she prayed in her heart. “I love him ... I love him so desperately.”

CHAPTER
SEVEN

A
ntonia thought she was lying on a soft cloud. She felt as if she was sinking into it deeper and deeper until it enveloped her whole body.

Then gradually she became aware that everything was very quiet and there was in fact a pillow under her head.

Slowly her mind began to work and she realised she had been asleep for a very long time. She opened her eyes slowly as if she were afraid, until as she saw the outline of the cabin she knew where she was.

She was on the yacht, they had reached safety, they had won!

Antonia turned over onto her side and could not remember coming aboard. She could recall the moment when they had arrived at the Quay at Le Havre and seen the Duke’s yacht at anchor, gleaming white against the blue of the waves.

She had stood staring at it, feeling now she no longer had the support of her horse that if she moved she would fall down from sheer exhaustion.

Vaguely she had recalled someone helping her into a boat, then she must have fallen asleep.

“How is it I can remember nothing of what happened next?” she asked herself, and saw her arm was naked.

She moved the blanket which covered her and realised someone had removed her riding-habit.

She was wearing only her full petticoats and a silk chemise. Even the waist of the petticoat had been undone so that she would not be restricted.

She knew who must have undressed her and felt herself blush at the thought.

How could she not have known that he was touching her?

Perhaps he had carried her to her cabin; but she had been so tired, so utterly and completely exhausted that everything had been swept away in her need for sleep.

Even the first day had been tiring because she had not been riding for nearly two months. But she had been too preoccupied in worrying about the Duke to think of herself.

They had ridden hard and said very little. Watching him however Antonia knew that he was tense every time they saw people in the distance, or were in sight of a main road.

The highways seemed unaccountably crowded although whether it was with Germans, stragglers from the French Army or refugees, Antonia had no idea.

She guessed that the Duke was as apprehensive of meeting French deserters who were living off the land, as he was of encountering the invaders.

‘They would rob us,’ Antonia thought, ‘and would undoubtedly take our horses.’

She understood why the Duke skirted even the smallest hamlets and kept to the open fields.

They stopped for a very short while to eat some of the food which Tour had ordered for them. There was crisp French bread, a rough local pate, cheese and fruit, which they finished the first day.

It seemed delicious, but by dinner time they were both too tired to feel hungry and were only grateful for being able to drink a little wine from the bottles in Antonia’s saddle-bag.

It was nearly dusk when the Duke reined in his horse which was now moving much more slowly than it had done before and said:

“We must find somewhere to sleep, Antonia, but I am afraid your accommodation for to-night must be in a wood.”

“I think I would sleep on top of a mountain and on bare rocks at this moment,” Antonia smiled.

“You are tired?” he asked sharply.

“Very,’ she replied truthfully, “and so are you.”

She had in fact been worrying about him for several hours, aware that he was over-taxing his strength.

But knowing too that as he concentrated on getting them away, he would not acknowledge his own weakness or the fact that his wound was doubtlessly hurting him.

They stopped in a small wood surrounded by open fields which would make it, if they were watching out, impossible for anyone to approach them unawares.

Having unsaddled the horses and made quite certain they could not wander away, the Duke flung himself down on the moss-covered ground beside Antonia and she saw the lines of fatigue on his face.

“If you will put your head in my lap,” she suggested tentatively after they had finished eating, “I will massage your forehead.”

“You will do nothing of the sort, Antonia!” the Duke replied. “You will lie close to me and go to sleep. I want to leave here at dawn.”

Thinking there was no point in arguing, Antonia did as she was told.

After he had moved restlessly for several minutes as if he were in pain, she knew by his even breathing that he was fast asleep.

Very, very carefully she moved herself a little higher up the soft ground so that she could put her arm beneath his head and hold him close against her breast.

‘This may be for the last time,’ she thought, ‘I may never be able to do this again.’

Very gently she massaged his forehead with the soothing strokes she had used when he was delirious.

As she did so she felt him relax, and knew that he was
sleeping deeply, too deeply for her to waken him inadvertently.

It was then she kissed his hair, telling him wordlessly how much she loved him.

“I love you! Oh, my darling ... I love you!”

She held him closer still, his head heavy against her, and she thought that for the moment she had never been so happy.

“I must move away,” she told herself, “before I fall asleep
...
”

The next thing Antonia knew was that the Duke was calling her. He was already up and had saddled both the horses.

Hurriedly she got the food and wine ready for them to have a scanty breakfast before they set out again.

The bread was stale by now and not very appetising, but it was not a moment to be fastidious.

The next day was very much like the first and Antonia knew that Tour’s choice of their horses had been a wise one.

Like their riders they might be tired, but they kept going at a fair pace and Antonia knew that the miles between them and Le Havre were lessening every hour.

“Do you know where we are?” she asked the Duke once.

“I have a good idea,” he replied briefly.

He obviously did not want to talk and Antonia was silent, knowing that as they rode the Duke was always on the alert for any unexpected danger.

They stopped a little earlier than they had the night before, simply because both they and the horses found it difficult to go any further.

The heat of the day had changed when the sky became overcast and a chill wind began to blow across the open countryside.

For the first time Antonia wished that her smart pique habit was more substantial, and that she had not thrown away all the shawls in which she had disguised herself for leaving Paris.

She did not complain, but the Duke must have known what she was feeling because a mile later he said:

“I see a barn ahead. If, as it appears, it is not connected to a farm-house, I think that is where we will stay the night.”

The barn was in fact some distance from the farmhouse which lay about a quarter of a mile away.

What was more, it was half full with hay, which provided not only fodder for the horses but a comfortable resting
-
place for two very tired people.

They ate a little of the dry bread and the pate which still tasted quite pleasant, although rather monotonous. Then Antonia sank down into the hay.

“I would not change this,” she said, “at the moment for the most comfortable mattress in Doncaster Park!”

The Duke picked up some handfuls of hay and covered her with it.

“This will keep you warm just as effectively as a woollen blanket,” he said. “I should have thought to suggest that you brought a riding-cloak with you.”

“I should have thought of it myself,” Antonia replied, “but it was so hot in Paris.”

“I think it is going to rain.”

The Duke lay down on the hay and they neither of them heard the rain pouring down in the night.

But when they left the barn in the morning the earth felt fresh and the horses seemed to respond to the coolness in the air.

They stopped to water the animals at the first stream and then they were off again.

Antonia hoped and prayed that they would reach the end of their journey before nightfall. She would not have admitted it to the Duke but her body was feeling very stiff and the saddle was not a comfortable one.

The day seemed unaccountably long, but she knew hopefully that the end was near when the Duke insisted on her drinking quite a lot of the last bottle of wine and then threw it away.

“Only a few more hours,” he said encouragingly.

“You can manage?” Antonia asked anxiously.

“I am worrying about you and not myself!” the Duke answered.

“That is ridiculous!” she protested. “You are the invalid.”

She knew as she spoke she had said the wrong thing.

“I am nothing of the sort, Antonia,” he said almost sharply, “and this would be a taxing journey for any woman, even an Amazon like yourself.”

He was teasing her and she felt happy because he was well enough to do so.

As the hours dragged by she grew tireder and tireder.

Fortunately the horses kept together and when she thought the Duke was not watching her she was able to hold on to the pommel of her saddle.

“I must not fail him now,” she kept telling herself. “We have got so far. I cannot let him down at the very last moment.”

But the very last moment seemed far away and when finally they clattered over the cobbled streets of Le Havre she thought that if a whole battalion of Prussian soldiers was waiting for them she would be unable to make any effort to escape.

Now she made no pretence of not holding on to the pommel with both hands, and the Duke reached out to take the bridle of her horse as they rode down to the Quay.

She had heard him giving orders; she felt him lift her down from the saddle and help her into a boat. Then there was a blank.

“He should have been the one to collapse, not me,” Antonia told herself and was ashamed that she had so little fortitude.

She wondered what time it was and even as she thought about it, the door of the cabin opened very softly and she knew someone was peeping inside.

“I am
...
awake!” she said and her voice sounded hoarse and strange.

“I thought you might be, Your Grace.”

Tour came into the cabin and pulled back the curtains over the portholes.

“We are safe!” Antonia exclaimed.

“You are indeed, Your Grace. There are no dangers in Southampton Harbour.”

“Southampton!” Antonia queried. ‘But how can we have got here so quickly?”

Tour smiled.

“You slept all of yesterday, Your Grace, in fact you have been asleep for two nights, a whole day and it is now nearly noon!”

“I cannot believe it!’ Antonia exclaimed. “And His Grace?”

She waited apprehensively in case Tour should tell her the Duke was ill.

“His Grace also slept the whole way over. He had a little dinner last night and went straight back to sleep.”

“He is all right?” Antonia enquired.

“Fit as a fiddle, Your Grace. There is no need to worry about him.”

“And the journey did not hurt his wound?”

“It appears to me not to have changed in any way since I last saw it in Paris.”

“Thank God for that!” Antonia exclaimed.

“And thank God you and His Grace arrived safely,” Tour said solemnly.

“And you,” Antonia added. “Was it a difficult journey?”

“It had its unpleasant moments, but I will tell Your Grace about them another time.”

He bent down as he spoke and Antonia saw him pick up her dusty travel-stained riding-habit which was lying on the floor.

“I expect Your Grace would like a bath,” he said, “and I have some good news for you.”

“What is it?” Antonia asked.

“When I came aboard I found that when six weeks ago,
Monsieur
Worth passed through Le Havre on his way to England, he saw the yacht in the harbour and asked to whom it belonged.”

Tour paused to make what he had to say even more dramatic.

“When he learnt it belonged to His Grace, he sent aboard the trunks in which he was conveying Your Grace’s purchases to England.”

“Oh, Tour, I cannot believe it!” Antonia cried. “How wonderful! Bring me my bath, and then I will make myself look respectable for His Grace.”

“His Grace has gone ashore, so there is no hurry,” Tour replied. “First I must get Your Grace something to eat.”

Antonia smiled.

“As you mention it,” she said, “I do feel ravenously hungry
.
”

She ate what seemed to her an enormous amount of eggs and bacon, while Tour filled her bath with hot water and brought one of the trunks that
Monsieur
Worth had left for her into the cabin.

There was a fascinating choice of garments, but knowing it was likely to be colder in England than it had been in Paris, especially late in September, Antonia chose a gown of heavy satin.

It had a short jacket fastening into the waist and was trimmed with a collar of ermine, with the same fur on the cuffs.

She washed her hair and was appalled at the amount of dust it had accumulated on the ride and from sleeping in the hay in the barn.

While she had a little difficulty in arranging it, when it was surmounted by one of Worth’s
chic
little hats she looked very fashionable and very un-English.

She knew when she went on deck that the Captain and the crew looked at her in undisguised admiration, and she only hoped the same expression would be echoed in the Duke’s eyes.

He was standing near the gangway, exceedingly smart and looking as if he had undertaken nothing more strenuous than a ride in the Park.

Antonia found it hard to look at him.

Now they were back to normal life and there was no danger, no urgency, she felt as if they were drifting apart.

She wanted to cling onto him and to beg him not to leave her.

“I love you, I love you,” she wanted to cry, but instead with a commendable control, she said:

“Good morning, Your Grace. It is delightful to be home.”

“Are you ready to go for a drive?” he asked.

“A drive?” she questioned. “I thought we should be taking the train to London.”

“We are not going to London,” he replied. “Not unless you particularly wish to do so.”

She waited for him to explain and he went on:

“I have a cousin, the Earl of Manford, who lives near Southampton. I have already called at his house to find that he and his wife are in Scotland. I have therefore arranged with his Secretary who is in charge, that we shall stay there for a few days. I think we have both done enough travelling for the moment.”

He smiled at Antonia as he spoke and she felt her heart turn over in her breast with excitement.

She was not to lose him immediately! He was not in such a hurry as she had feared to see the Marchioness again.

They would be together and she could not imagine anything that would be more wonderful.

The Earl’s house was only a few miles outside Southampton and the Duke drove her there in the smart Phaeton which he explained also belonged to his cousin and which was drawn by two horses.

Antonia had to exclaim in delight at the sight of them. Then she said:

“Perhaps they only appear so superbly well-bred after the two which carried us from Paris.”

Then she added quickly:

“Do not think I am disparaging their splendid performance in bringing us to safety. I only wish we could have explained to them how grateful we were.”

“I gave them to the man who owns the local Livery Stables,” the Duke said. “I also gave him quite a considerable sum for their keep on condition he rested them for at least a week. I think he will appreciate their worth.”

“That was generous of you,” Antonia said gratefully.

“I do not think either of us will forget that ride or the horses that carried us,” he said quietly.

“I could never forget it,” Antonia said in her heart. “We were alone ... he was with me both by day and by night
...
for perhaps the last time!”

The house belonging to the Earl of Manfred was impressively Georgian with a delightful garden.

There was a staff of well-trained servants and Antonia was shown into a large, elegantly furnished bed-room which compared favourably with the State rooms at Doncaster Park.

There was a canopied and curtained bed in a rose pink that she thought was particularly becoming to herself. Only she remembered that the colour was of no importance as she would be sleeping alone!

The last two nights she had slept beside the Duke her body had been touching his and the first night she had held him in her arms.

“That will never happen again,” she told herself miserably.

Suddenly the fact that they were back in civilisation swept over her with a feeling of despair! Now she would lose him!

She had had him to herself for so long that she could hardly remember what it was like before he had been there. To the exclusion of all else, she had concentrated all her thoughts, her feelings and love on him.

Yet she had promised him when he had asked her to marry him that she would be unobtrusive and would make no demands upon him. Now she must keep her promise.

‘I cannot imagine anything more humiliating,’ she thought, ‘if he realises that I love him and he had to make it clear to me that he is not interested.’

What was more, she thought, such knowledge might make him feel uncomfortable, perhaps embarrassed, in which case she might see even less of him than she would do otherwise.

“I have to be very sensible, and very brave about this,” she told herself, but was near to tears.

She forced herself to take an interest in her trunks which had been brought to the house by Tour and had followed them from Southampton in a travelling carriage also provided by the Earl’s staff.

Before she had left the yacht, Antonia had remembered to ask about the Duke’s clothes.

She learnt that he always had an extra wardrobe kept aboard the yacht in case he wished to embark at a moment’s notice without the necessity of waiting for a valet to pack for him.

He was therefore looking resplendent and just as elegant as on their wedding night, when Antonia entered the Salon before dinner.

The sun was sinking and the crimson and gold sky cast a warm glow into the long room with its French-windows opening out onto a balustraded terrace.

Antonia stood just inside the door, her eyes seeking the Duke’s and for a moment it was hard to move forward.

She had spent a long time choosing what she would wear, changing her mind a dozen times.

Finally she had let the maids dress her in a gown of cardinal red which made her skin seem almost translucent.

It was however not a heavy gown despite the depth of colour.

It was ornamented with the soft tulle, expensive satin ribbons, frills and fringes which Worth had made fashionable. They accentuated the perfect curves of Antonia’s figure and gave her an alluring femininity that was unmistakable.

Slowly she walked towards the Duke.

“These surroundings are somewhat different from our lodgings last night,” he said with a smile, “and although I had a good luncheon I am still hungry.”

His eyes were on her face as he spoke, and she had the feeling that he was talking as if he had to bridge a certain awkwardness which lay between them. But what it was she did not know.

Then as he raised her hand to his lips, she wanted desperately to hold on to him because she was afraid he would vanish.

‘He will leave me now we are home,’ she thought despairingly, but aloud she said:

“Tour tells me your shoulder has withstood the journey well.”

“I am well,” the Duke said firmly. “It is what I have waited for, for a long time, Antonia.”

She looked at him enquiringly, but at that moment dinner was announced and she put her hand shyly on his arm as he led her towards the Dining-Room.

The Earl’s chef was not as skilled as the one employed by the Duke in London, but Antonia thought that never had a meal tasted more delicious.

She kept remembering how dry and hard the bread had been the last day of their journey, and how tired she had been of the pat£ which seemed less appetising every time they sampled it. The cheese too had been over ripe from being carried in the saddle-bag.

She thought now that the fish, fresh from the sea; the beef, from the Earl’s own herd; the pigeons, roasted until they were exactly the right tenderness, were an epicurean feast.

The Duke insisted that she should drink a little champagne.

“It will take away the last vestige of tiredness,” he said.

The Duke had found out the latest news from France and he told her that Strasbourg had surrendered after a gallant defence, following the bombardment which had destroyed the magnificent old library and killed many civilians.

“War is such a waste!” Antonia exclaimed. “It destroys not only people but also history.”

“That is true,” the Duke agreed, “and it seems incredible that the French should have gone to war without finding out more accurately the strength of the German armies.”

“I suppose the Prussians are very pleased at the way things are going,” Antonia said in a low voice.

“Cock-a-hoop!” the Duke replied, “and I am quite certain they will extract every ounce of humiliation possible from the French.”

“We can only pray that Paris will be spared,” Antonia said quietly and hoped that Labby would be safe.

When dinner was over she and the Duke moved into the Salon. The sun had now sunk and it was twilight outside, with a few stars in the sky.

The candles had been lit in the Salon and the curtains were drawn in all the windows except one. Antonia stood looking out, and then drawing a deep breath she said in a very small voice: