Love Climbs In, page 14
“Of course they would,” Freddie agreed, “and with reason. A more filthy horrible place than that sweep’s house I could not imagine in a thousand years. Something ought to be done about it and indeed the whole of St. Giles.”
“I agree,” the Marquis said, “and what is more, I am determined that something shall be done.”
Valeta, who had turned her head towards Freddie when he spoke, now looked back at the Marquis.
“Do you really – mean that?” she asked.
“I mean it,” the Marquis confirmed. “The whole place should be demolished and burned to the ground and the people who live there given the chance of a better sort of life.”
Valeta clasped her hands together.
“If only Papa and Mama could hear you. It was what they always prayed would happen. Other parts of London are bad, but St. Giles is the worst of the lot.”
“Something will have to be done,” the Marquis repeated determinedly.
And again inexplicably Valeta felt that she was going to cry.
She was sure, however, that both the Marquis and Freddie would despise her if she did so. So she bit her lip and blinked her eyelashes, forcing the tears away, but for some moments she was unable to speak.
By now they had moved swiftly info the wider streets of Mayfair and were only a short distance from Park Lane.
They drew up at the front door of Stevington House and, when the footmen in their magnificent livery hurriedly appeared to lay down red carpet, once again Valeta became conscious of her appearance.
The Marquis, however, was already inside the hall before Freddie could help Valeta from the phaeton.
“I want luncheon to be served as quickly as possible,” he commanded, “and ask the housekeeper to attend to Miss Lingfield.”
Then as Harry appeared he added to the butler,
“Look after the small boy. He comes from Troon. Feed him and I shall be taking him back with me this afternoon.”
“Very good, my Lord.”
The butler appeared to be quite used to receiving strange orders and in a few minutes a footman led Valeta upstairs to where the housekeeper was waiting for her on the landing.
“If you will come this way, miss,” she said respectfully.
Rustling in her black silk dress she walked ahead to lead Valeta into a large and attractive bedroom.
“You must think it very odd,” Valeta volunteered, “that I have no bonnet, but – ”
She was right in thinking that the housekeeper was curious and she explained a little lamely that she had come to London at a moment’s notice without time even to put on a travelling gown and pick up her bonnet and gloves.
She was quite certain that sooner or later the gossip about what had actually occurred would percolate from Troon to Stevington House, but she had no desire at the moment to relate to anybody the terrible experience that she had just passed through.
“‘Don’t you worry, miss,” the housekeeper said. “If you are returnin’ to Troon with his Lordship this afternoon, I’m sure I can find you somethin’ to wear, although it might not be in the very latest fashion.”
“I shall be glad of anything,” Valeta smiled. “I am afraid I would feel very untidy if I travelled in his Lordship’s phaeton without a bonnet.”
“Leave everythin’ to me, miss.”
With her hair tidy, her face and hands washed and several marks of soot sponged from her gown, Valeta went down the stairs a little while later, feeling somewhat self-conscious.
In the magnificent house the Marquis was back in her mind as the authoritative unapproachable Guardian she had thought him to be when she was at home.
It was embarrassing to remember how she had thrown herself into his arms when he had opened the door in the sweep’s house and how she had hidden her face against him in the carriage.
‘Perhaps he will be shocked that I was so forward,’ she told herself and blushed at what she imagined might be his condemnation of her behaviour.
Then she knew, however much she surprised or even shocked him, that she could never be grateful enough for that moment when, with the shots ringing in her ears and in terror at what might be about to happen to her, she had seen him standing in the doorway.
At that moment he had been all the heroes of her childhood rolled into one, Sir Galahad, St. George and Perseus and certainly no longer the man she hated.
‘Now he will save not only me but thousands of other people if he keeps to what he has said,’ she told herself.
Because she was so excited at the thought she felt as if her feet had wings as they carried her down the stairs.
She had a sudden urgency to see the Marquis so that he could confirm what he had said and she could really believe that there was hope for all the people whom her mother had worried over and whose plight had often made her father swear beneath his breath.
In the salon, a glass of champagne in his hand, the Marquis was saying to Freddie,
“I have already sent to collect Lionel’s body and I have told them to notify the Magistrates and the Bow Street Police on the way, so that they can view the position of the body and that Lionel has a pistol in his hand that has been fired.”
“I will explain it all when I get to the Home Office,” Freddie promised.
“I am hoping that you can arrange for neither of our names to be brought into it,” the Marquis said. “I have a feeling that they will not like the fact that the incident took place in St. Giles.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because if they are not ashamed of the damned place they ought to be!” the Marquis said sharply.
The way he spoke made his friend turn and look at him with raised eyebrows.
“I seem to recognise that tone of voice. It’s the one you used to use when you had seen the atrocities the French committed and you decided to have your revenge on them.”
“That is exactly how I am feeling now,” the Marquis stressed.
“If you are thinking of fighting such conditions,” Freddie said half-jokingly, “it will take you a long time before you achieve a victory.”
“It will certainly keep me busy.”
Freddie looked at him speculatively for a moment and then put down his champagne glass.
“I always rather fancied you as a Crusader, Serle,” he said, “and with Dilys out of the way and no longer offering you all the temptations of Eve, you might even find it an interesting occupation.”
“That is just what 1 was thinking myself,” the Marquis replied quietly.
‘‘Perhaps after all, although it is infuriating to think so, Dilys has done you a good turn,” Freddie commented.
“It will certainly be the first and the last,” the Marquis said firmly.
As he spoke, the door opened and Valeta came in.
*
Valeta awoke with a feeling that something strange had happened, but she was not quite certain what it was.
Then she opened her eyes and remembered.
She was at Troon, sleeping in a room that was ten times the size of her bedroom at The Manor House and she could see the sunshine percolating through the sides of the curtains, picking out the gold cupids that climbed the posts of the great bed where she was lying.
It had been late in the afternoon yesterday when they had arrived back at Troon to find Nanny frantic with anxiety and Nicholas overjoyed to see her.
As the Marquis drew up his horses outside the front door, Nicholas, who, Valeta learned later, had insisted on staying at one of the windows on the first floor all the afternoon waiting for her and watching the drive, had come tearing down the stairs to fling himself into her arms.
“You are back! You are back!” he cried. “Nanny said his Lordship would rescue you, but I was afraid, terribly afraid you were lost.”
“I am not lost, dearest,” Valeta smiled, holding him tight.
A moment later Nanny’s arms were round her and the old woman was shedding tears of thankfulness.
“It’s not like you, Nanny, to cry,” Valeta pointed out.
“I’m getting’ old, that’s what’s the matter with me,” Nanny said stoutly, “and I can’t stand these shocks.”
“It’s all over,” Valeta said comfortingly, “and his Lordship saved us both.”
She then saw Nicholas run to the Marquis with a cry of joy and to her surprise he bent down to pick the child up in his arms.
“You brought her back!” Nicholas exclaimed. “I knew you would, I knew it. Nanny cried and thought you might be too late, but she would not tell me what that meant.”
“I was in time,” the Marquis said gently.
Nicholas was looking over his shoulder at Harry, who was standing a little forlornly just inside the door.
“Stop the phaeton from driving away,” the Marquis called out quickly.
A footman hurried to obey his command and the Marquis said to Harry,
“I think, Harry, you would like to go home in style, would you not? You can drive in the phaeton and tell your father to come up and see me in an hour or so and I will explain to him what has happened.”
Harry’s face lit up with excitement and Nicholas cried,
“May I go too? I want to ride in the phaeton.”
“Very well,” the Marquis said good-humouredly. “Jason will look after you and both of you are to do exactly as he says.”
“We will be good, very good,” Nicholas cried and he and Harry ran down the steps together.
Watching, Valeta thought how well the Marquis seemed to understand the two small boys and it suddenly struck her that he should have children of his own.
She did not know why, but suddenly that seemed not to be the happy thought it should have been.
Of course it was obvious that he should be married and have a wife to help him entertain in all his fine houses.
“I think, Nanny, we should go home,” she then said in a voice that suddenly sounded dull and a little bleak.
“Yes, of course, dearie,” Nanny agreed.
“I feel that would be a mistake,” the Marquis interrupted. “If you will come into the salon, Valeta, I will explain why.”
He did not wait for her reply, but walked towards the salon, saying to the butler,
“Is tea ready in the Orangery?”
“In a few minutes, my Lord.”
Knowing that she must do what he asked, Valeta followed the Marquis, only stopping for a second to take off the pretty but inexpensive straw bonnet which the housekeeper at Stevington House had loaned her.
She gave it to Nanny, saying,
“This has to be returned, but I will tell you about it later.”
Then, smoothing her hair with her hands, she walked into the salon and a footman closed the door behind them.
The Marquis had already reached his favourite place in front of the mantelpiece and he watched her advancing towards him, thinking that unlike any other woman he had ever known before she was completely unselfconscious of her sublime beauty.
Valeta reached his side and her eyes were wide and worried as if she expected what he was about to say to her was something that she would not agree with.
“I think, Valeta,” the Marquis said quietly, “it would be wise for you, Nanny and Nicholas to stay here for a few days until we are quite certain that there can be no recurrence of what happened this morning.”
“But surely now that Lord Lionel is dead – ” Valeta began hesitatingly.
“Cibber is alive,” the Marquis replied, “and, until he has been arrested and put in prison for a great number of years or transported to Australia, I would rather have you safely beside me.”
“I had not thought of that,” Valeta admitted.
The Marquis did not speak and she went on,
“I kept on feeling grateful, although perhaps it was unkind to Harry, that Nicholas had not been frightened again by those horrible men.”
She shuddered before she continued,
“They had meant to force him into being a climbing boy again, and when they found that Harry was there by mistake, they were going to – use him instead.”
She gave an involuntary little cry as she added,
“It would have killed Nicholas to have to go through all that horror for a second time, I know it.”
“You once asked my support for a Parliamentary Bill to abolish the use of boys in the cleaning of chimneys,” the Marquis said, “and I will not only support the Bill but I will actively campaign to prevent boys being used in any of the houses of my acquaintances.”
Valeta gave a little cry of delight and said,
“How can I tell you what it – means to me? How can I – thank you?”
The Marquis looked at her and then he pulled her into his arms.
“Like this,” he answered and his lips were on hers.
For a moment Valeta was too astonished to think.
Then the Marquis’s lips aroused a feeling that she had never known before. It was so strange and yet so wonderful that she could not struggle or move, but only feel that she had stepped into a dream world that was more beautiful than anything she could ever have imagined.
The Marquis’s lips were gentle, as if she was infinitely precious, tender and yet insistent, and she felt as if, although he held her captive, she had no wish to be free.
She felt as if the moment when she had thought that he was Sir Galahad come to her rescue, he had been enveloped with the glory that had surrounded the famous Knight.
He had also the determination of Jason and courage of Perseus, so that all she had ever longed to find in her heroes was here in one man.
The Marquis released her lips and now he was kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her small chin and then again her lips.
It was difficult to breathe as something warm and marvellous moved from her breasts into her throat so that she could no longer speak.
The whole room seemed to be filled with an unbelievable glory and she only knew that, if this was love, it was perfect and ecstatic as she had always known it must be.
Then the Marquis raised his head to look down at her and he breathed in a voice that she found hard to recognise,
“I love you! I suppose I might have expected this to happen when you came here hating me. But I love you and there is nothing I can do about it except tell you so.”
Valeta’s eyes seemed to fill her whole face and the Marquis went on with a smile,
“I think I know what you are feeling, as I am feeling the same. It has happened so quickly and so unexpectedly and yet it is here!”
“You – love me?” Valeta asked in a tone of wonder.
“I love you,” he replied, “as I have never loved anyone before. In fact I did not know that love was like this.”
“Nor did I,” Valeta whispered, “but it is love – real love?”
“Very real,” the Marquis agreed. “My sweet, I know now that you are everything I want in my wife, everything I thought never to find. How soon will you marry me?”
Valeta’s eyes seemed to grow wider than ever.
Then she whispered,
“I don’t know – what to say. You are so – grand, so magnificent. How could you marry anyone – like me? I think I would be – afraid.”
The Marquis smiled and it was very tender.
“You need never be afraid of anyone or anything when you belong to me,” he said. “That I promise you.”
Valeta gave a little laugh that was curiously unsteady.
“I was really meaning I would be afraid – of you.”
“Not if we love each other. I love you, Valeta, and I want you to tell me that you love me too.”
Her eyes dropped because she was shy and he said,
“Oh, my darling, I know it already. I was aware of it when you came into my arms when I opened the door and when you trembled against me I knew at once that I had to look after you and protect you for the rest of your life.”
“It was – so wonderful to see you there – when I had been so afraid,” Valeta whispered, as if she must give him an explanation.
He put his arms round her and drew her close again.
“We have so much to say and so much to learn about each other,” the Marquis said.
Then, as he pressed his lips against the softness of her skin, he added.
“And you have so much to teach me.”
He knew that Valeta was surprised and he explained,
“I have a new Crusade to save the climbing boys, clean up St. Giles and rid London of much of its crime. Do you think I am capable of that?”
“I think you can do anything you want to do,” Valeta answered, “as long as you let me – help you.”
“Do you think I could do it otherwise?” the Marquis asked. “You have put me into this and now you have to work as hard as I shall have to do. Otherwise I might fall by the wayside.”
He was teasing her and she laughed a little tremulously,
“I am so excited, so thrilled – I don’t know what to say.”
“Just tell me you love me,” the Marquis murmured. “That is all I really want to hear.”
“I do love you,” Valeta sighed, “but I never thought it – possible I could do anything but – hate you!”
“That is something you will never do again,” the Marquis replied.
As he spoke, he kissed her, a slow demanding kiss that seemed to her to draw her very soul from her body and make it his.
Then after a long time when it was impossible to think but only to feel, the Marquis said,
“I had forgotten about your tea. It will be getting cold by now. Let’s go and find it in the Orangery.”
“I am so happy I feel as if I am disembodied,” Valeta said, “and I will never want to eat or drink again.”
“I feel the same, but I suppose I have been inconsiderate. I should have given you your tea first and then told you I love you. But when I looked at you I wanted to kiss you so desperately that it was impossible to think of anything else.”
He kissed her again before he added,
“Come along. I have to think about you and you have had a very exhausting day.”
“Now it is a very wonderful and marvellous day,” Valeta whispered.
