A Duke in Danger (15 page)

Impulsively she bent and kissed Mrs. Walton, saying:

“Whatever good times come to me, I intend to share them with you. You have been so wonderful these last years.”

She nearly added: “when Papa was mad,” but thought it would sound disloyal.

She felt anyway they were thinking the same thing and were aware that her father’s mind had become deranged after Richard’s death.

Yesterday two horses had arrived from London, which had been a thrill that was almost as exciting as her new gowns.

She knew instinctively that one of them had been chosen for her and was exactly the sort of horse that any Lady would wish to ride.

The other was a huge stallion, and she thought that the Duke would look magnificent on him and wanted him to come home so that they could ride together.

When she had gone to bed last night she had told herself that there would be so many things for him to do in London, so many people ready to welcome him, that she must wait patiently for his reappearance and not be surprised if he was a long time in coming.

Because she had lived such a quiet life, she knew very little about men, but she was not so stupid as not to realise how handsome the Duke was and that he had a presence that would make him stand out in any company, however distinguished.

‘Perhaps,’ she thought, ‘he will find life in London, when he has Harlington House restaffed, more attractive than living here.’

She was aware that it would take a little time before people in the County realised that the Duke would be willing to receive them as her father had refused to do.

Therefore, he might discover that London was more congenial and certainly more amusing.

She found herself wondering what he would talk about to the beautiful women whom she was sure he would meet at Carlton House, and who would welcome him into the most distinguished and at the same time most sophisticated society in Europe.

She knew very little about the Social World of London except what she had read in the Court Columns of the newspapers or heard discussed in the village.

Strangely enough, that had been quite a mine of information.

Several of the sons and daughters of the villagers had originally gone to London to work at Harlington House.

When on her father’s instructions they had been dismissed, they had fortunately obtained employment in the houses of other distinguished aristocrats.

This meant that their parents were kept informed of what was happening in London, and every letter and every piece of news which came by post or carrier was repeated round the village the moment it arrived.

Alvina therefore was well aware of the dislike the populace had for Lady Hertford because she was the latest fancy of the Prince Regent.

She had also heard over the years of the love-affairs of
Lord Byron and a number of other noblemen, many of which were positively scandalous.

Although she told herself she should not listen, and certainly should not talk familiarly with people who were not of the same station as herself, she had nobody else to talk to.

It would have been unnatural for her to refuse to listen to what Mrs. Walton’s niece wrote home about what she called the “goings-on of the smart young gentleman” in whose parents’ house she was at present employed.

At the time, it had merely amused her, and she had forgotten what she heard almost as soon as it was spoken.

Now she began to imagine the Duke at parties, Balls, and Assemblies, surrounded by beautiful women and finding them very alluring after the long years of war.

‘Perhaps he will never come back to the Castle,’ she thought dismally.

Then she told herself there was no need for such depressing thoughts.

That he had thought of her in sending her such beautiful clothes raised her hopes that she would see him soon.

Last night she had sat up late making a list of all the people in the County whom he might invite to the Ball he was planning.

She also worked hard in supervising the new housemaids and the footmen as they cleaned the Ball-Room.

It was a tremendous task to wash down the walls, but when it was done the paint looked white and clear, and the gold-leaf which ornamented the cornice shone as brightly as it had when it was first applied.

The paintings on the walls were also improved by being dusted and having the dust scrubbed from their gold frames.

However, Alvina discovered it was going to take a long time to get the polish back on the floor.

The footmen not only got down on their knees to rub
the polish in, but on Alvina’s instructions tied dusters over their shoes and slid up and down until the parquet began to look very much brighter than it had for twenty years.

“The Duke when he gets back will be pleased with what I have done,” Alvina told herself.

As she reached the top of the steps she turned back to watch the groom taking away the horse she had ridden that morning, and felt with a little lilt of her heart that she was sure the Duke had chosen it especially for her.

She walked into the Hall and smiled at the two footmen on duty, their newly polished crested buttons gleaming in the sunshine.

“Enjoy your ride, M’Lady?” one of them asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Alvina replied.

She walked up the staircase, wondering as she did so if the Duke realised that a new stair-carpet was needed and thinking it should be one of the things to suggest to him when he returned.

She reached the top of the stairs and was just turning towards her bedroom when she saw to her surprise that at the far end of the corridor there was a man.

He was just outside the Master Suite, and for one moment she thought it was the Duke who had returned without her being aware of it.

Then she saw that it was not he, and it was also not a servant.

Feeling curious, she walked towards the man, wondering who he could be and why the footmen had not told her there was somebody strange in the house.

The corridor was long, and in that part of the building even in the daytime there was very little light.

Yet, before she had gone very far, Alvina was aware who her visitor was.

There was no mistaking the exaggerated square shoulders of what she knew was called a “Tulip of Fashion,” and the high, elaborate cravat which made its owner carry his head at an almost imperious angle.

She was halfway towards the intruder, who, looking at the paintings to the right and the left of him, was not aware of her until they were within speaking distance. Then Alvina ejaculated:

“Cousin Jason! Nobody told me you were here!”

“I saw you riding across the Park,” Jason Harling replied, “and I saw no reason to disturb your ride.”

“I was not aware that you were calling,” Alvina answered, “otherwise I would have been at home to welcome you.”

“There is no need for us to stand on ceremony with each other,” Jason Harling replied, “and as a Harling I look on the Castle as home, as of course you do.”

The way he spoke made Alvina aware that he was being subtly offensive, although nothing he said in words was actually rude.

“Now that I am back,” Alvina said, making an effort to speak pleasantly, “I hope I can offer you a cup of tea, or perhaps some other refreshment?”

“How kind of you!” Jason replied.

She was sure he was being sarcastic, but she turned to walk back towards the staircase.

As she did so, she wondered if she should ask Jason what he was doing wandering about the house and if he had been in the Master Suite.

She instinctively knew that he had, but she did not know quite how to put her suspicions into words.

They walked down the staircase in silence, and when they reached the Hall she said:

“Which would you prefer, Cousin Jason? Tea? Or perhaps a glass of wine ... ?”

Before she could finish speaking, she saw that Walton was there, and Jason, without waiting for her to give the order, said to him:

“Bring a bottle of champagne to the Library!”

He spoke sharply and authoritatively, and as Alvina looked at him in surprise, so did Walton.

Then the Butler answered quietly:

“Very good, Mr. Jason, and would you require anything to eat?”

“No, just champagne,” Jason replied, and walked towards the Library door.

Because she was determined not to show how astonished she was at his behaviour, Alvina said:

“The Drawing-Room is open, if you prefer.”

“I am quite happy in here,” Jason said, as a footman opened the Library door for them. “I suppose you are aware that every Museum in Europe would pay a fortune for the Shakespeare Folio, and the first edition
we
own of the
Canterbury Tales?”

He accentuated the word “we” in a manner that was impossible for Alvina to ignore, and she said quietly:

“I think you are well aware, Cousin Jason, that the contents of the Castle belong to the reigning Duke only for his lifetime.”

“Of course I am aware of that,” Jason replied, “but it depends upon how long he reigns.”

As he spoke, Alvina had an impression of evil that almost made her wince away from Jason Harling.

It was so vivid that for a moment she thought she was imagining it just because she disliked him.

Then, as she saw the expression in his eyes, she felt she must recoil as if he were a reptile waiting to strike at her.

With what was an obvious effort to control what he was feeling, Jason flung himself down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace.

“Well, Cousin Alvina,” he said, in a different tone of voice, “you have certainly fallen on your feet, and let me congratulate you on your riding-habit. It is certainly an improvement on what you were wearing when I last came here!”

Because Alvina was aware that he was being deliberately unpleasant, she merely inclined her head, and Jason went on:

“Rooms open, horses in the stable, footmen in the Hall! The new Duke is certainly flinging his money about in a profligate fashion.”

There was a pause before he continued:

“Actually, I have come here to say good-bye to you, and of course to the Castle, the family seat of the Harlings, of which I am one.”

“Good-bye?” Alvina questioned.

“Has the reigning Duke, my inestimable cousin, the gallant General of a hundred campaigns, not told you of what he has planned for me?”

He was speaking now in a jeering, mocking voice that seemed to jar the very air round them, and after a moment Alvina faltered:

“Cousin Ivar has ... not yet returned from ... London.”

“Of course not!” Jason said. “He is enjoying himself as the new ‘Lion’ of the Season, the pet of the Countess of Jersey, and undoubtedly a very ardent lover of the most acclaimed Beauty of the Season.”

Alvina sat upright and, clasping her fingers together because she was agitated, said in a carefully controlled tone:

“I do not think, Cousin Jason, that you should speak to me like that!”

“Have I shocked you?” he asked. “Oh, well, you will have to get used to shocks where our dashing cousin is concerned. He has deserted Lady Isobel, who declares that he promised her marriage, and if her father does not call him out, then doubtless the husband of his present inamorata will not be so cowardly.”

Alvina rose to her feet.

“I have no wish to listen to you saying such things, and I think, Cousin Jason, that when you have finished your glass of wine you should be on your way.”

Jason laughed and it was not a pleasant sound. “Turning me out, are you? And by what right?” Fortunately, before Alvina could answer, the door opened and Walton came in, followed by a footman carrying a silver tray on which there was a bottle of champagne in an ice-cooler.

He set it down on the grog-table which stood in a corner of the Library, and after a glass of champagne
had been poured for Jason and Alvina had refused one, the servants withdrew.

Because she thought it degrading to quarrel while the servants were in the room, Alvina said nothing until the door shut. Then she said:

“You said just now that you had come here to say good-bye. Does that mean you are leaving England?”

“So you do know!” Jason said accusingly.

“Know what?” Alvina asked in bewilderment.

“That our cousin, the new Duke, has exiled me from my own country, my friends, and my family.”

He made a sound of sheer disgust.

“Oh, yes, Cousin Alvina, you may look surprised, but that is what he has done—turned me out, lock, stock, and barrel. Unless I do what he says, he will have me thrown into prison and leave me to rot there rather than raise a finger to save me from such a fate.”

“I do not believe it!” Alvina exclaimed.

“It is true! You can ask him when you see him. In the meantime, make no mistake, I shall have my revenge, and it will not be a pleasant one!”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

Jason emptied his glass and walked across the room to fill it again up to the brim from the bottle in the ice-cooler.

“There have been Harlings all through history who have survived the vengeance of Kings and the enemies with whom they have come in contact,” he said. “But make no mistake, Ivar Harling will not survive the curse I have put upon him—the Curse of the Harlings, which will ensure that he dies slowly and in agony.”

Alvina gave a little cry.

“Do not ... talk like ... that! How can you say ... such wicked things?”

“I say them because I know they will come true,” Jason said slowly.

He lifted his glass and added in a voice that seemed to ring round the Library:

“To the future, and to the moment when we hear the Duke is dead! Long live the Duke!”

As he spoke he tipped the whole glass of champagne down his throat, and without another word went from the Library, leaving Alvina staring after him in sheer astonishment.

Because of the way he had spoken, and because he seemed to leave an atmosphere of evil behind him, she found it hard to move.

In fact, it was hard to do anything but feel that she had come in contact with something that was so wicked and beastly that she felt contaminated by it.

Then at last she told herself that Jason was mad, as mad as her father had been, and she would not be afraid or over-awed by him.

She walked towards the door, but even as she reached the Hall she heard the sound of wheels outside and knew that Jason was driving away.

By the time she could see him from the front door, he was crossing the bridge over the lake in a smart, lightly sprung Phaeton with huge wheels, drawn by a team of four horses which he was driving at a tremendous pace.

As he went up the drive, the dust billowed out behind him, and Alvina had the uncomfortable thought that he was driving a chariot of fire.

“How can he hate Cousin Ivar?” she asked herself.

Then she was afraid of the answer.

Two hours later, when Alvina had changed from her riding-habit and was arranging some flowers in the Drawing-Room, she heard voices in the Hall.

She had time only to put down the flowers she held in her arms and turn to the door as it opened and the Duke came in.

At the sight of him Alvina gave a little cry and without thinking ran towards him eagerly.

“You are back!” she exclaimed. “How wonderful! I have been ... longing for your ... return.”

“If I have been a long time you must forgive me,” the Duke said in his deep voice, “but I had a great deal to do in London.”

“I was sure of that,” Alvina replied, “but there is so much for you to see here, and your horses have arrived.”

“I thought they would please you,” he said. “There are several more arriving tomorrow, and I hope some others next week.”

Alvina clasped her hands together.

“We have been working desperately hard in repairing the stables,” she said. “I know you will be pleased ... and I want to show you the Ball-Room ... and the carpenters and painters have ... started work on the pensioners’ cottages.”

She spoke quickly and breathlessly, having been waiting for this moment to tell him of all the things she had been doing.

Then, as if she suddenly remembered that the Duke had travelled all the way from London, she said apologetically:

“But you must be thirsty, and I am sure Walton will be bringing you something to drink.”

As she spoke, Walton came in with a footman carrying a tray just as he had done a few hours earlier.

Alvina realised with a little throb of fear as she thought of it, that she would have to tell the Duke that Jason had been to the Castle.

‘I will tell him later,’ she thought, wanting to postpone for as long as possible something that was unpleasant.

Only when the Duke was sipping his glass of champagne did she realise that he was looking at her searchingly and with what she thought was a twinkle in his eyes.

“I suppose first,” she said a little shyly, “I should have thanked you for the ... wonderful gowns you sent
me. I can hardly believe they are ... really mine! In fact, I do not feel myself, but somebody quite different!”

“You look very lovely in what you are wearing now,” the Duke said.

He paid her the compliment in his usual calm, rather dry voice, so that it did not make Alvina feel shy, and she only asked: