She paused and then went on,
“As I was wondering what I should do, I saw a note, which I had not noticed before, on her pillow and I have brought it to show you.”
She opened the piece of paper and read aloud,
“I will not marry that abominable man as I have already told him. I have therefore gone away and you will not be able to find me, so do not try.
Aldora – ”
The Marchioness’s voice faltered as she read the last word and then, looking at the Duke in desperation, she asked,
“Where can she have gone? What can we do?”
What Aldora had said to him the first time they had spoken came into his mind.
“It is possible,” he said after a moment, “that she will try to get to France.”
“To France?” the Marchioness exclaimed. “But she knows nobody there. What will happen to her? We must somehow stop her!”
The Duke knew that it was not going to be easy and the Marchioness went on as if she was speaking to herself.
“Think of the scandal if the newspapers get hold of it, especially if they discover the reason why she has left in such a precipitate fashion!”
The Duke knew that the Marchioness was suggesting that it would involve him.
He could think of nothing more degrading than that a young girl of eighteen should run away from him because she was afraid that she might have to marry him.
“Who is aware of what you have said to me tonight?” he asked.
The Marchioness looked uncomfortable.
“I have not, of course, said anything about India because the Queen swore me to secrecy.”
“But you have said that I might marry Aldora?”
“I only mentioned it to one or two of my closest friends.”
The Duke thought grimly that this meant it would be common knowledge in Court circles and anywhere else where the gossips’ tongues never stopped wagging.
He thought for a moment and then he said,
“The only thing I can do, and I shall have to hurry, is to try to prevent Aldora from boarding a ship for France. I suppose your closest Port is Chichester Harbour.”
“That is the nearest,” the Marchioness agreed, “and I imagine that there will be ships sailing across the Channel from there.”
“As it happens my own yacht is in the Harbour,” the Duke said, “because I was thinking that I might spend a few days on her after I leave here.”
“If Aldora has already crossed the Channel, you will never find her!”
“I can but try,” the Duke replied, “but France is a very large country!”
“Then hurry, please hurry!” the Marchioness begged him urgently. “The child has no idea of the danger she is in if she travels about alone.”
Then she said,
“I blame myself for not explaining it to her better, but I thought you would do that!”
The Duke felt that there was no point in saying that Aldora had prevented him from saying anything and he merely replied,
“If I am to catch her, I must leave at once.”
“Yes, of course, and please, please bring her safely back without anybody else being aware of what has occurred.”
“I shall certainly do my best!” the Duke replied.
The Marchioness went from the room and, throwing off the bedclothes, the Duke pulled violently at the bell beside the bed two or three times before he started hastily to dress himself.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Duke went to the stables and found as he expected that the only sounds were those of the horses moving in their stalls and everybody else was asleep.
He was aware that the stable boys would be in the attic overhead, while the Head Groom doubtless had a cottage or better accommodation elsewhere.
He therefore shouted up the narrow stairs that led to the attic and a few minutes later one of his own stable boys came hurrying down the stairs pulling on his trousers.
“I want Caesar saddled immediately,” the Duke said and walked towards the stallion’s stall.
It took nearly five minutes before Caesar was saddled and bridled, while the Duke was aware that Aldora was, every second, getting further and further away from him.
Just before he mounted he said to the stable boy,
“I believe that her Ladyship has gone riding. How long ago did she leave?”
The stable boy hesitated for a moment before he replied,
“I didn’t know it were ’er Ladyship, Your Grace, but I ’ears somebody takin’ an ’orse out into the yard.”
“How long ago?” the Duke repeated impatiently.
“I should say ’bout twenty minutes to ’alf an hour, You Grace.”
The Duke swung himself into the saddle and moved off.
It was fortunate that he had not ridden Caesar that morning, but one of his other horses, so that the stallion was fresh and ready for anything that was required of him.
Having stayed so many times at Goodwood House, the Duke knew the surrounding countryside almost as well as he knew his own land in Buckinghamshire.
As soon as he had cleared the Park, he set off across country, heading due South towards Chichester Harbour.
As he went, he thought that, if Aldora did not find a ship sailing at dawn for France, she would probably go on to Portsmouth where there would be ships sailing regularly back and forth across the English Channel.
Although he knew Chichester Harbour well, he had never particularly noticed what type of ships put in there, being more concerned with the private yachts like his own.
He had found it an excellent and quiet Harbour near to several houses where he so often stayed.
As he had told the Marchioness, he had planned, since the London Season was finished, to take the opportunity after Goodwood to spend a few days or perhaps longer aboard his new yacht.
It had only just been delivered from the shipbuilders and was the very latest type of steam yacht yet produced.
He was aware that, as his horses were, it would be the envy and admiration of all his friends and he was looking forward to showing it to them, but was determined first to test out for himself all the innovations it incorporated.
It seemed to him extremely inappropriate and annoying that it should be used for the first time in chasing a tiresome young woman across the English Channel.
As he had thought before, she should have been better disciplined by her mother and by her father when he was still alive and it was because she had been abominably spoilt that Aldora was causing him so much trouble and anxiety.
It also infuriated him to learn that the Marchioness had discussed his private affairs with her friends.
He knew, because the Queen was so powerful, that it would be very difficult for any man, whatever his position in life, to refuse a marriage which carried with it the promise of such a glittering reward.
‘If I had any sense,’ the Duke told himself, ‘I would go to see the Queen, explain to her how it is totally impossible for me to marry Aldora and promise to find myself a more suitable wife in the least possible time.’
Then he had the uncomfortable feeling that the Queen would not listen to him, having no idea what Aldora was really like.
‘Her Majesty will have been fed with tales of her clever brain and her intellectual achievements,’ he told himself scornfully, ‘and will not understand that she is really an obnoxious brat who behaves in a quite unprecedented manner.’
At the same time he was forced to acknowledge what a good story it would make for the gossips, if they ever found out, that a mere school girl had taken him to task for his amatory behaviour and that she had then run away from the prospect of such a disreputable bridegroom would lose nothing in the telling.
At the onset nobody was likely to believe so unlikely a story.
Nevertheless they would repeat it, mull over it, and laugh about it. It would grow and grow and the Duke knew, if he walked into White’s or any of his other Clubs, that he would be awar
e what they were saying about him.
“Dammit!” he swore aloud. “I will make her my wife, if only to show that she cannot ride roughshod over me!”
Then he was astounded at what he had just said.
Could it be true that the Duke of Wydeminster, who was noted for his fastidiousness where women were concerned and who was pursued by almost every beauty in the Social world, was really contemplating marrying a young hooligan who had declared that she would rather die than marry him?
“I must be getting as mental as she is!” the Duke exclaimed savagely.
He spurred Caesar as he spoke to go faster.
It was fortunate there was a moon to show him the way and, as he was familiar with the ground over which he was travelling, he made good progress.
Every minute the smell of the sea seemed to be getting stronger and he thought that it would not be long before he could see it.
Then he thought that he could hear thunder and a quarter-of-an-hour later he was aware of a sensational change in the weather.
The claps of thunder were rapidly growing nearer and, as flashes of fork lightning lit up the surrounding countryside, the rain began to pour down.
The Duke was aware that he was going to get very wet.
But what was more disturbing was that Caesar disliked thunder and started to rear at every crash. Then, as the rain became torrential, he slowed his pace and made every effort not to proceed any further.
The Duke knew that this part of Sussex was notorious for occasional storms of quite frightening severity.
On one occasion the spire of Chichester Cathedral had been struck by lightning and the top forty feet of it destroyed. On another the whole spire had collapsed in a heavy gale.
The Duke remembered being told about it five years later when he was staying with the Duke of Richmond.
It had been a tragic and extremely dramatic accident when the spire had simply disappeared falling precipitously into the body of the building.
The Duke had been staying at Goodwood, having just come down from Oxford, when in 1865 the Duke of Richmond had laid the foundation stone of yet another spire.
Now the weather was growing more tempestuous and he wondered if it would survive tonight’s treatment.
By now the fork lightning and another violent clap of thunder directly overhead made him aware that Caesar would go no further.
He was wondering what he could do when he saw just ahead of him the roofs of a house and decided, however strange it might be to call in the middle of the night, that he must seek shelter.
With some difficulty he rode Caesar towards the building and found when he reached it that it was an inn.
There was a courtyard in which another flash of lightning revealed some ramshackle stables.
Whatever they were like, he knew that Caesar would be glad of their protection.
He dismounted, opened the rickety door and led the horse inside.
The stables smelt foul and he suspected that not only were they as dilapidated inside as they were out but they were also dirty.
The lightning coming through the broken panes of a window showed him that there was a row of stalls and the one opposite him was empty, while next to it there was another horse.
He put Caesar inside and saw again in the next flash that there was hay in the manger and a bucket containing water.
He pulled off the stallion’s bridle, but did not touch the saddle, hoping that with any luck the storm would soon be over and he would be able to proceed in his pursuit of Aldora.
He shut the door of the stall, hung the bridle on a hook protruding from the wall and walked through the rain that was still pouring relentlessly to the door of the inn.
There were lights in the windows and he imagined that there was another traveller like himself who had found it impossible to go any further.
He opened the door, taking off his hat as he did so and a cascade of water fell from it onto the ground.
Then he saw with a sense of relief that there was a large fire burning in an open fireplace facing him.
He moved towards it and then saw that there was somebody sitting in an armchair that had its back to the door.
He could see the golden hair of the occupier’s head and knew that by a stroke of incredibly good fortune he had found Aldora!
She was obviously not interested in learning who had just come in out of the rain.
Only when he reached the hearthrug to turn his back to the fire did he see her start at the sight of him while her hands clutched the arms of her chair.
“I expect,” the Duke said, brushing his wet hair back from his forehead, “that your horse dislikes the storm as much as Caesar does. I only got him into the stable with the greatest of difficulty.”
He spoke in a normal conversational tone as if they were still at Berkhampton House.
“Why are you – here?” Aldora demanded.
The Duke put his hat on the floor and began to unbutton his coat.
“Before we start fighting again,” he said, “would you mind if I take off my coat and dry it in front of the fire? I have a strong dislike of catching a cold, an affliction that I am quite certain threatens us both.”
He saw as he spoke that Aldora’s riding jacket was arranged over a chair on one side of the fireplace and, as it was steaming, he knew that she was as wet as he was.
She did not answer and he removed his coat, finding the rain had seeped through the fine whipcord and that the shoulders of his white lawn shirt were also wet.
He hung his coat over a chair on the opposite side of the fireplace from Aldora’s.
As it began to steam, he asked,
“Is there any chance of anything to drink in this place?”
As he spoke, he looked around and knew that it was the type of inn that neither Aldora nor he would, in normal circumstances, have entered in a thousand years.
The ceiling had heavy ship’s timbers across it, the floor was flagged and undoubtedly dirty, while a few tattered rugs were probably dirtier still.
There were several wooden armchairs and some others with wicker seats that all needed repairing. Altogether it was a very unprepossessing sight.
As if in answer to his question, through the door underneath some stairs came a large man who was obviously the publican.
He was as dirty as his surroundings and he must have dressed, perhaps when Aldora arrived, in a hurry for his shirt was open at the neck and his breeches undone at the knees.
It was obvious as he advanced towards them that he was impressed by the Duke’s appearance and in his soft Sussex accent he asked,
“Be there anythin’ I can get for you, sir?”
Before the Duke could reply, Aldora to his surprise said in French so that the publican would not understand,
“I am sure that the only thing that would not poison you is the brandy, on which our host is very unlikely to have paid any Customs duty!”
The Duke found himself smiling at what she had said and, as the publican was waiting enquiringly, he replied,
“I would like a glass of brandy, if you have some, but bring me the bottle.”
He knew as he spoke that unless he saw the bottle anything he was given in a glass was likely to be of inferior quality or, as Aldora had surmised, what amounted to poison.
“I’ll get it fer you, sir,” the publican replied.
As he walked away, the Duke saw that by Aldora’s side was a small wooden stool on which stood a glass.
“Is that brandy you are drinking?” he asked.
“Yes, and it’s quite palatable, although I did not think of asking to see the bottle,” she replied, “but I shall remember that another time.”
The Duke who could feel the warmth from the fire drying his breeches, which had become soaked, asked sharply,
“Must there be another time? I am finding travelling in this weather exceedingly unpleasant!”
“You can hardly expect me to apologise for the storm!”
She paused and then added,
“I am surprised you found out so quickly that I had left.”
“Your mother went to your bedroom to speak to you.”
Aldora raised her eyebrows.
“That is strange! I have never known her before not to wait until the morning to rebuke me.”
“She considered this rather serious.”
“Why is it so serious?”
“Because for you to disappear would undoubtedly cause a scandal for you and make me, as you had threatened, a laughing stock.”
There was silence for a moment.
Then Aldora said,
“I had not thought that my leaving home before there was any talk of our being – married would affect – you.”
The Duke was just about to reply when the publican came back with a bottle in his hand and a glass on a broken wooden tray.
One glance at the bottle told the Duke that Aldora was right, it had undoubtedly been smuggled in from France without the Coastguards being aware of it.
Smuggling had become a national pastime during the Napoleonic wars and it was still very common along the South Coast of England.
Although the Coastguards tried, it was impossible for them to keep a successful watch along so many miles of small bays, harbours and mouths of rivers.
The Duke took the glass from the tray and the bottle from the publican’s hand.
“That’ll cost you a guinea, sir,” the man said apprehensively.
It was an exorbitant charge and the Duke knew it, but he merely drew a loose guinea from his waistcoat pocket and threw it onto the wooden tray.
Almost as if he was afraid that he would take it back again, the publican hurried away.
The cork of the bottle had already been drawn, but it was pressed back into the neck and the Duke saw that a small amount of brandy had been removed, which he supposed was what Aldora was now drinking.
“Let me fill your glass,” he suggested.
“I do not wish to be so drunk that I am unable to continue with my ride,” Aldora said provocatively.
The Storms Of Love Page 7
