The Temptation of Torilla (17 page)

She looked at Torilla through her tears as she went on,

“You know neither Papa nor Mama would have thought him – good enough for me.”

She gave a little sob and once again her hands went up to her face.

“Good enough!” she said in a muffled voice. “He was – everything I ever wanted and he told me that he loved me more than l-life itself.”

Her voice broke and now she was sobbing uncontrollably.

Torilla could only hold her close, the tears running down her own face.

“You will not remember,” Beryl went on after a little while, “but I went to London for a few days telling Papa I was going to stay with Mama – but she did not know I had left The Hall. Rodney and I were – married by – Special Licence. We went to an hotel together and – Torilla – it was there I found what Heaven is – really like!”

“I understand,” Torilla murmured.

“It was so – wonderful, so marvellous. Then Rodney had to say goodbye because his Regiment was sailing for Spain.”

Torilla remembered that Rodney had been part of the Division that was sent out early in 1814 to re-enforce the Duke of Wellington’s Armies in his drive through Spain to France.

“Rodney was quite certain,” Beryl went on, “that the war would not last long. When he returned we were going to tell Papa that we were married. Then there would have been – nothing they could do about it –
but he never came back
.”

Beryl was crying again and Torilla murmured endearments as she cried too.

With an effort Beryl continued,

“I-I have – never told anyone – what I have told you now – there was – no point in anyone – knowing once Rodney was killed”

“Not even the – Marquis?”

“What would be the point?” Beryl asked, wiping the tears from her face.

“You do not think he has a – right to know?”

“I don’t enquire about Gallen’s past and I shall not expect him to question me about mine.”

Beryl looked in the mirror and saw Torilla’s head reflected beside her own and the tears on her cheeks.

“Do not worry about me, dearest,” she said. “It is the last time I shall cry about Rodney – the last time I shall speak of him. It is all over and done with.”

“But you cannot forget,” Torilla said softly.

“I shall try,” Beryl said in a firm voice. “I shall try never to think of him again.”

Torilla rose from her knees to stand looking down at the pink wedding gown lying on the bed.

It was so like Beryl, she thought, in some strange way, to be honest enough with herself not to wear a white gown.

She thought now how blind she must have been not to realise that Rodney and Beryl always had a special feeling for each other.

Looking back she could remember a thousand incidents that might have given her a clue to the fact that they loved each other in a different way from how they loved her.

She had been two years younger than Beryl and five years younger than Rodney and she had therefore looked at them with the eyes of a child.

Only now because she loved the Marquis could she understand why when they were together there was an inescapable magnetism in the air, and when they looked into each other’s eyes it had been hard to look away.

Now so many things that she had not understood where Beryl was concerned were made clear.

Because she had lost the one thing that mattered in her life she had plunged into the world of Social gaiety in an effort to forget.

She sought admiration, she sought the love she had lost, even while she knew that she would never find it again.

And so while she could not be satisfied by love, she would try and replace it with ambition, and she had achieved that when the Marquis asked her to marry him.

It was all very clear, Torilla thought, and she knew that this was a further reason why she could do nothing to take the Marquis from her.

Beryl lost Rodney who was the love of her life and a great Social position was her only substitute.

“At least my wearing pink will give them something to talk about,” Beryl said in a voice, which told Torilla that she had once again assumed a mask to hide her real feelings.

“It might make them – speculate why you are wearing it,” Torilla said hesitatingly.

“They will do that whatever I wear,” Beryl replied. “You don’t suppose that those gossiping old chatterboxes have not paired me off with innumerable lovers by this time? Charles Newall is only the latest.”

She gave a pathetic little laugh that was not far from tears and went on,

“There were several men last year who they whispered about in corners and as many the year before.”

“And you do not – mind?” Torilla asked.

“Why should I?” Beryl replied shrugging her shoulders. “It is better to be talked about than ignored and I should hate – really hate – no one to notice me.”

She saw the expression on Torilla’s face and rose from the stool to come to her side.

“I am glad I have told you my secret, dearest,” she said. “You are the only person who would understand, the only person who will know why sometimes I do outrageous things just to – forget.”

“I do understand, but, Beryl, remember that because he loved you Rodney will always be near you as I feel Mama is near me.”

Beryl stiffened.

“I have tried to believe that. When I first learnt that he was dead, I used to cry out to him in the darkness to come to me, to hold me in his arms as he did when he was alive, but he – never came.”

Her voice hardened as she went on,

“I told myself then that all the stories of an after life that your father talks about so glibly were a lot of nonsense. When someone dies, there is only hell for those who are left behind.”

“No, no!” Torilla said. “You must not think that! I have often felt when I have been desperately unhappy that Mama was near me. I know there is no death.”

“Then why does Rodney not come to me?” Beryl asked. “He loved me, Torilla, as no one will ever love me again. We belonged to each other and yet now he is apparently content to leave me – alone.”

“I do not believe that.”

“Well, I do!” Beryl answered.

Once again there were tears in her eyes and she wiped them away.

“We cannot go out now, seeing what a freak I have made of myself. I am going to lie down, Torilla, and I suggest you do the same. There is a dinner party tonight, but only a small one.”

“You had better not stay up late, since you are being married tomorrow,” Torilla replied, trying to speak naturally.

“I suppose not,” Beryl agreed. “Gallen is not coming to dinner, I cannot think why. He sent his apologies this morning and said he has made other plans.”

She smiled mockingly as she added,

“I expect he plans to say goodbye to one of his flirts. I wonder if it is the widow with whom he was enamoured at one time, or a very delectable red-head I saw him with one night at a theatre?”

Torilla was quite certain it was neither of these women and what the Marquis was really avoiding was a small intimate dinner party at which she would be present.

‘I should have gone North before the wedding,’ she thought, but it had been impossible to leave Beryl and now she was glad she had not done so.

She felt that in some way it had been a relief for Beryl to tell her the truth, and it swept away much of the anxiety she had felt about her cousin’s character having altered since she had been such a success in London.

It hurt her to think of Beryl’s unhappiness hidden beneath all the froth and gaiety of the Social world.

But at least Beryl had been married to Rodney, she had known the unutterable bliss of being his wife and they had had, as Beryl said herself, three days of Heaven.

When Torilla went back to Barrowfield, there would be only the memory of one wonderful kiss and the touch of the Marquis’s fingers on her wrist.

That was all she had to last her for the rest of her life.

Yet because she loved him so deeply, he would always be in her thoughts and mind.

Whatever physically he might mean to Beryl, or to any other woman, spiritually he would remain hers for all Eternity.

*

There was so much commotion and fuss on the morning of the wedding that Torilla felt they would never reach the Church.

The Countess was rushing round the house giving the servants orders, then countermanding them, and the confusion was increased by the late arrival of the Earl.

His carriage had been delayed on the road and at one moment they thought he must have forgotten the day and would not be there to give the bride away.

Combined with all this, there was a constant stream of callers bringing notes and messages and belated presents. Florists delivering bouquets and dressmakers items of clothing, which had needed last minute alterations.

There were a dozen trunks to be packed for Beryl’s honeymoon.

Again either the Countess or Beryl kept changing their minds as to what was to be included and what was to be sent to the Marquis’s castle in Huntingdonshire.

The only person not particularly involved was Torilla herself.

Although she tried to keep close to her cousin in case she should need her, Beryl was in one of her moods when she was ready to think everything amusing and take nothing seriously.

She infuriated the Earl by telling him that his smart London coat was too tight for him and, when she tried to change her mother’s hat, the Countess screamed at her in exasperation.

“Do not interfere, Beryl!” she stormed. “Leave me alone and look after your own things. I am quite certain that you and your maid have forgotten half the gowns that should have been packed.”

“If so, I will buy some more,” Beryl retorted tartly.

Finally she was dressed in the pink gown that had evoked a storm of opposition both from her father and her mother.

“Pink? Who ever heard of a bride wearing pink?” they asked, both for once being in accord.

“It is extremely unconventional,” the Earl intoned pompously.

“I have no wish to be a conventional bride,” Beryl replied, “and you know as well as I do, Papa, that I am looking very beautiful and everyone will tell you so.”

“Why did you not consult me and ask my advice?” the Countess asked over and over again. “It is a great mistake for the bride not to follow tradition.”

“Well, it’s too late now,” Beryl answered. “Either I come to the Church in pink or you can call the wedding off. Perhaps Gallen will be quite relieved.”

As the Earl and Countess had no desire to lose such an important son-in-law, they were silenced by Beryl’s suggestion, and eventually only a few minutes late on schedule the Countess and Torilla left for the Church, leaving Beryl and her father to follow in another carriage.

“I only hope Gallen will know how to deal with Beryl,” the Countess said sharply as they set off. “I find her extremely annoying at times.”

“She looks very beautiful, Aunt Louise,” Torilla came in soothingly.

But nothing would placate her aunt, who muttered and grumbled all the way to the Church.

Her efforts for Beryl’s sake to get the Countess into a good humour prevented Torilla from being conscious of her own feelings.

She had not slept last night, but had lain awake wrestling with her conscience, tempted by what she felt were all the devils in hell.

Once she actually rose from her bed, lit a candle and started a note to the Marquis.

“I love you,”
she wrote,
“I cannot face the future without you. I will do as you asked and
–
”

She stopped, stared down at what she had written and knew it was wicked and the prompting of evil.

Frantically she tore the note into tiny pieces, then flung herself on the bed crying desperately and despairingly until she could cry no more.

When in the Church she saw the Marquis come from the Vestry to stand waiting at the Chancel steps for his bride, she felt as if a dark cloud encompassed her.

How could she endure the years ahead without him? How could obedience to duty or honour compensate either of them for an empty barren existence without love?

As Torilla with her eyes downcast followed Beryl up the aisle, walking a few feet behind her glittering rose-covered train, she felt that her whole body was one dull ache and the agony in her breast was unbearable.

‘I love him! I love him!’

She had the same overwhelming desire that she had felt the night before to run to his side and tell him that she was ready to go with him anywhere in the world so long as they could be together.

The Bishop wearing his mitre and full vestments, began the marriage service and Torilla, raising her eyes, saw that the Marquis was standing beside Beryl.

She looked at his broad shoulders, the outline of his dark head and knew that his face would be set and grim, the lines deeply etched.

She heard the Bishop say,

“
Therefore, if any man can show any just cause why these two people may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak or hereafter hold his peace
.”

“A just cause!”
Torilla repeated beneath her breath.

What was more just than love? What was more important in marriage than that two people who were to be man and wife should love each other with their hearts and souls as she loved the Marquis?

She wanted to cry out and stop the wedding, but after the little pause that followed the Bishop’s words, he continued,

“
I require and charge you both, that as you will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know of any just impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony ye now confess it.
”

Torilla felt as if the Marquis was reaching out to her, telling her that she already knew the secrets within his heart. Her eyes were still on the back of his head and she almost expected him to turn round and look at her.

The Bishop continued,

“
Gallen Alexander, will you take this woman to be your wedded wife, to live together after
God’s Holy
ordinance
– ”