The amusement in Lord Melburne’s eyes deepened. Julien Wilsdon was only a thin slip of a youth. His Lordship could not help being aware of the contrast between the young man’s immaturity and his own strength, his broad shoulders and above all his height.
As if she too was conscious of the difference between the two men, Clarinda hastily put her arm through Julien Wilsdon’s and drew him towards the door.
“I beg you, Julien, not to make a cake of yourself,” she pleaded. “I assure you that what his Lordship is saying has a foundation of fact and I will explain everything. But not now. Wait for me, if you wish, and I will tell you what this is about when his Lordship has left.”
Unwillingly and with one backward glance of extreme enmity at Lord Melburne, Julien Wilsdon allowed himself to be led from the salon. He could hear their voices arguing in the hall until finally, after some minutes, Clarinda returned alone.
“I must – apologise,” she said in a low voice.
“A very ardent admirer, I see,” Lord Melburne commented, “and a dangerous rival.”
“Don’t try to humiliate me,” Clarinda said sharply. “It would not have been correct for me to confide in Julien before you had spoken with my uncle. Now he is enraged and it will be difficult to soothe his hurt feelings.”
“I imagine that the whole world cannot be informed that what you contemplate is to be but a pretence,” Lord Melburne said. “There would surely be someone to relate to your uncle that he is being hoodwinked.”
Clarinda clasped her small hands together anxiously.
“No indeed, you are right about that, my Lord. Until my uncle dies we must make quite sure that no one suspects that our betrothal is just a temporary measure. Once he is dead you need never see me again.”
“Surely a somewhat drastic condition,” Lord Melburne said. “I am, may I just say, Miss Vernon, finding our acquaintance most enjoyable.”
“This may seem a joke to you, my Lord,” Clarinda replied crossly, “but I assure you that only the deep affection I have for my uncle and his almost despairing efforts to secure the preservation of his estates would force me to agree to his suggestion.”
“And now maybe we can continue with our conversation where it was broken off,” Lord Melburne suggested. “Let me put the question very simply, Miss Vernon, why have you such a dislike of me and why indeed is your distaste so virulent that you have discussed it with our other neighbours, such as Mr. Julien Wilsdon?”
He saw the colour rising again in her cheeks and her eyelashes fluttered shyly.
“It was indeed wrong of me to discuss you with anyone else, my Lord, and I must ask your forgiveness. I spoke in confidence and I admit rashly, but it was, I promise you, with no one but Julien, who is the only person I have had to talk for these past months while my uncle has been so ill.”
“You are alone here?” Lord Melburne enquired.
“Yes, alone,” Clarinda answered. “When I first came here, my uncle had his sister living with him, but she died and there has never been anyone to take her place. Do not think I am complaining – my uncle has been a most interesting companion. I have helped him with the estate, in fact I think I know nearly as much about it as he does. As I suspect he has told you, he has been his own Agent for some years, preferring to deal with the day to day problems himself rather than entrust them to anyone else.”
“Why does he care for it so much?” Lord Melburne asked her.
“I think when Nicholas failed him it was all he had left,” Clarinda answered quietly. “He loves it. Every penny he has must be spent on improving the farms, draining the fields, trying out new crops and buying new implements. It is his child and his baby, he would give it his life-blood.”
She spoke with an almost passionate feeling in her voice and then added rapidly,
“But this is of no interest to your Lordship. The physician has assured me that my uncle cannot linger more than a day or two. Allow him to die happy, then you can return to London and to your own amusements.”
“I am grateful for your permission,” Lord Melburne said with a touch of sarcasm.
“That is what you want, surely,” Clarinda asked. “Your Lordship has little interest in the country, I understand, for you are seldom at Melburne, which is a far larger and finer estate than this.”
“I see you know a great deal about my movements,” Lord Melburne said suavely. “And now, which of my misdeeds, and I can assure you there are many of them, has thrown you into such a frenzy?”
She heard the sneer in his voice and, looking up into his face, thought how cynical and imperturbable he looked. It could not really matter to him what she thought of him and yet his grey eyes searched her face and were uncomfortably penetrating.
“Well?” he prompted. “Would you like me to make you a full confession of my sins?”
He saw the sudden flash of anger in her eyes. It was almost impossible, he thought, not to provoke her, not to note the changing expressions in her sensitive little face or to see the way that her small chin went up when she was incensed by him.
“Let me make this quite clear, my Lord,” she said, turning away from him and walking to the window. “I have no intention of discussing your behaviour now or at any time. I leave that to your conscience. I had no wish for your company, it is only by some quirk of Fate that we are thrust together.”
“How unfortunate,” he mocked, “that you must be linked in such intimate circumstances with the man you dislike most in the whole world.”
Clarinda turned round to face him.
“That is the truth, my Lord, and I am not afraid to admit it. Yet at the same time I am grateful to you for the help you are giving Uncle Roderick.”
“A help that I am considering,” Lord Melburne corrected her.
He paused for a moment and then he queried,
“I wonder if perhaps I would be wise to make you tell me the truth before I discuss the matter further?”
“I will not speak of it,” Clarinda declared obstinately.
Their eyes met and they stared at each other for a few moments. He was very conscious that there was a hatred and something that almost amounted to fear emanating from her.
Then suddenly he laughed.
“Have it your own way then,” he capitulated. “It will be amusing to see how long you can withstand my blandishments and perhaps my bullying to make you tell me of your own free will.”
As he finished speaking, Lord Melburne swept her a very elegant bow.
“I am leaving now for Melburne,” he said. “I have told the physician I will return later in the afternoon, when I understand that your uncle’s Attorney will be present. Until then, Miss Vernon, your obedient servant.”
Clarinda curtseyed. He opened the door for her, but, before they passed into the hall, he paused and said,
“There is something I have just remembered, something I think I should mention. When I came from your uncle’s room, there was a footman listening at the keyhole. I do not know whether you wish the staff to learn of everything that is said here in private.”
Somewhat to his surprise her face paled and she passed by him into the hall. Hurrying to where the old butler was standing by the doorway, she asked in a low voice,
“Bates, where is Walter?”
The old man hesitated before he replied,
“I was waiting for his Lordship to leave, Miss Clarinda, and then was about to tell you that Walter has gone.”
“Gone?” Clarinda expostulated.
“I understand,” the butler continued, “that he borrowed a horse from the stables and set off at a great pace.”
“Do you think he will have gone to London to Mr. Nicholas?” Clarinda asked, still in a low voice, but Lord Melburne could hear every word she said.
“I’m afraid so, Miss Clarinda.”
It seemed to Lord Melburne that Clarinda went even paler than she had been before.
“There is nothing we can do,” she muttered beneath her bre
ath, “but I would not have had Mr. Nicholas know of this so soon.”
With what was an obvious effort of self-control, she turned towards her guest.
He took her hand in his, and as he did so he realised that she was trembling. There was nothing he could say in front of the butler and, climbing into his high perch phaeton, which was waiting for him, he set off down the drive towards Melburne.
‘What a fantastic morning!’ he said to himself beneath his breath.
As ever the first sight of his house gave him a thrill of ownership. The great greystone house with its massive pillared front and the beautifully architectured wings too had a truly magnificent setting with its background of dark trees and the lake that mirrored it in the front.
The statues that ornamented the roof were silhouetted against the blue of the sky and, as he drove down the drive, a flight of white pigeons swept across the iridescent windows and gave the whole scene a Fairytale quality that made its owner feel almost poetical.
‘If only I could find a woman who was as beautiful as Melburne,’ he thought with an unusual sentimentality.
Suddenly before his eyes there appeared a small heart-shaped face framed by golden red hair such as he had never seen before in his whole life.
‘Why the hell does she dislike me?’ he asked himself.
On entering the Great Hall, with the grace of its Grecian statues enhanced by the soft apple-green walls that the Adam brothers always favoured, Lord Melburne received a noisy welcome from his dogs and his Major Domo uttered a few well-chosen words of welcome.
“I will have luncheon in half an hour,” Lord Melburne said, “and send for Major Foster.”
“Major Foster is here already, my Lord,” the Major Domo replied. “When we learnt from Hawkins of your Lordship’s visit, I informed the Major and he felt sure your Lordship would wish to see him.”
“Quite right, I do,” Lord Melburne said and walked towards the library where he knew that his Agent would be waiting for him.
Major Foster was a man of over fifty who had served and managed the vast Melburne estates, save for a short time when he had been in the Army, since he was a boy. His Army career had looked like being brilliant until he had been wounded and forced into retirement.
He limped very slightly, but his wound did not inconvenience him and he was, as Lord Melburne knew, the most reliable and efficient Agent any landowner could hope to employ.
He held out his hand and Major Foster, taking it, said in all sincerity,
“I am indeed glad to see your Lordship. It is too long since you paid us a visit.”
“I was thinking that myself as I came down the drive. And I have never seen the place look better.”
“You will be even more pleased, my Lord, when you can see some of the farm reports,” Major Foster said enthusiastically.
“I certainly wish to see them,” he answered, “but at the moment I have something else to ask you, Foster. What has Nicholas Vernon been doing?”
“You have heard some rumours, my Lord?” Major Foster queried.
“I have just come from Sir Roderick,” Lord Melburne replied. “That is indeed the reason for my visit, he is disinheriting his son.”
“I am not surprised,” Major Foster said. “There has been gossip and scandal and I was meaning to ask your Lordship’s advice next time you visited us.”
“What is it all about?” Lord Melburne asked, walking across the room to the grog tray, where he poured himself a drink.
“Do you remember the caves on the Vernon estate?” Major Foster asked unexpectedly. “They burrow into the Chilterns and were originally, I do believe, used by the Romans. Down the centuries they have been exploited at various times and, although you may have visited them when you were a boy, they have almost been forgotten until now.”
“Yes, of course, I remember them,” Lord Melburne said. “Nicholas and I used to explore them with tapers, frightening ourselves in the dark. I remember always being terrified I would never find the way out. What use are they being put to now?”
“I understand,” Major Foster said quietly, “that Mr. Vernon has opened a Hell Fire Club in them.”
“Good God!” Lord Melburne cried. “You must be joking! Why, Sir Francis Dashwood, who ran his Hell Fire Club at West Wycombe, died eleven years ago and I always understood that before his death such Clubs were forbidden by Law.”
“They are indeed,” Major Foster said, “which is why Nicholas Vernon has kept his own particular Club secret. I heard rumours of it perhaps a year ago, but I could not credit such nonsense and thought it was just the gossip of the local country folk. The locals talked about much activity in the caves and I learnt that certain volunteers who had been disbanded from the Army and who were badly in need of work were employed there. I thought at first that the roads on the estate required repairs of chalk, but there were other tales.”
“What were they?” Lord Melburne asked insistently.
“There was talk of women being brought down here in covered wagons, of coaches with smart painted Coats of Arms passing through the village at night and then turning off down the half-forgotten road towards the caves. There was chatter of masked men, of orgies, most of which I disbelieved. You know how such stories grow in a small village.”
Major Foster paused.
“Go on,” Lord Melburne prompted him.
“There was a local scandal,” he continued. “There is a girl known just as ‘Simple Sarah’, who was brought up by old Mrs. Huggins. Your Lordship might well remember her as being a foster mother for some half a century.”
“I do recall my mother speaking of her,” Lord Melburne said. “She disapproved of the woman and half-suspected that some of the children she fostered were neglected and buried surreptitiously in the garden behind her house.”
“They may well have been,” Major Foster conceded. “But Sarah, who is obviously a love child, grew up. She is called ‘Simple’ as she is not entirely of a normal intellect, although I would never have thought of her as being a lunatic or anything in that category.”
“And she is pretty?” Lord Melburne queried with a twist of his lips.
“Very pretty, which makes it understandable why Mr. Nicholas Vernon was interested in her.”
“What happened?” Lord Melburne quizzed him.
“From all I have heard and remember that all I am relating to your Lordship is hearsay,” Major Foster replied. “Sarah was taken to the caves. She came back with wild stories of what had occurred there, of gentlemen robed as monks, of women dressed up as nuns, of strange ceremonies, which sounded very like the worst type of the orgies indulged in by Sir Francis Dashwood. So I made some enquiries.”
“What did you find out?” Lord Melburne asked.
“I was told, my Lord,” he continued, “by someone who knows Nicholas Vernon well that he had always been obsessed by the Hell Fire Caves of West Wycombe. He was, of course, only a schoolboy when Sir Francis had died and they were closed, but when he left Oxford he developed an intense and unnatural curiosity about them and rode over dozens of times to look at the Mausoleum Sir Francis had built on the top of the hill.
“He plagued people round West Wycombe to tell him stories of what had occurred in the caves. They found him a nuisance and tried to send him away, but apparently he had been very persistent.”
“So you think he is following Sir Francis’s example?” Lord Melburne said reflectively.
“I’m afraid so, my Lord,” Major Foster replied.
“And the villagers are annoyed at Simple Sarah being involved in such unpleasantness,” Lord Melburne remarked.
“It was not so much that she was involved, but recently when her baby disappeared the scandal really broke.”
“Her baby?” Lord Melburne asked sharply.
“She swore that her child had been fathered by him, Mr. Nicholas Vernon,” Major Foster explained. “But a month after it was born it vanished and Sarah was distraught. She had been fond of th
e child in her own not very intelligent way and she had been, I understand, quite a good mother. When she had lost the baby, she tore about like a demented creature accusing Nicholas Vernon of having sacrificed it in the caves.”
“Good God!” Lord Melburne exclaimed.
“There was such an uproar that some of the more responsible of the villagers, headed by the Vicar, went to Sir Roderick. It was obvious, they told me afterwards, that Sir Roderick was not entirely surprised at what they told him about the caves. But, where the child was concerned, he was shocked and horrified.
“From all reports he wrote to his son, Nicholas, telling him that he had disinherited him and that he was never to come to The Priory again.”
“So that is what happened. Damme, Foster! I can hardly believe that such things could happen in this day and age.”
“In my opinion, Mr. Nicholas Vernon was always a bad young man. I must admit it, my Lord, I never had a liking for him. But I did not think he would sink to such depravity as this.”
“And are the caves now closed?” Lord Melburne asked.
“We don’t know,” Major Foster said. “No one has liked to trespass on Sir Roderick’s estate to ascertain if the place is dismantled. I only understand that Mr. Nicholas Vernon has not been here for the last month or so. Anyway, if he has, I have not learnt of it.”
There was a pause and then Major Foster asked,
“But you have seen Sir Roderick, my Lord. Did he speak to you of this?”
“Not in so many words,” Lord Melburne replied. “But I will be seeing him again this afternoon.”
Having no desire to confide to his Agent what Sir Roderick had communicated to him, he then went on to speak of matters connected with his estate. And, as there was a great deal to discuss, luncheon was delayed and it was later than he had calculated before he drove back to The Priory.
Bates, the butler, opened the door to him and, as he took his hat and gloves, he said,
“Miss Clarinda is in the study, my Lord. For the moment she is engaged.”
As Lord Melburne turned towards the stairs to go up to Sir Roderick’s room, he heard a coarse common voice raised in anger coming from the study on the other side of the hall. It was a man’s voice and, seeing the old butler glance uncertainly at the closed door, he asked,
The Irresistible Buck Page 3
