Riding In the Sky

by Barbara Cartland

  As she looked after Mark despairingly, he said,

  “Now, my pretty one, this is what I have been waiting for all the evening. You promised to apologise to me. Not once but twice, so I will let you pay in kisses.”

  The way he spoke seemed to Filipa to be no less than a threat and instinctively she shrank away from him.

  “No! No!” she cried.

  “Now come along!” he said. “You must not spoil the party. His Lordship will not like that. Anyone who breaks his rules is never asked again.”

  Lord Daverton put his arm round her waist and pulled her close to him.

  “You are very beautiful, little Fifi,” he said, “and I am quite prepared, if you are kind to me, to give you something very pretty that will sparkle like your eyes.”

  He pulled her even closer as he spoke.

  With a feeling of horror Filipa realised that he was forcing her to the comer of the room where there was a door leading into an anteroom.

  “No!” she cried. “No!”

  She tried to run away, but she was too late.

  Lord Daverton caught hold of her wrist and pulled her back.

  “Not so fast!” he said. “And let me say in this race I intend to be the winner!”

  He put his other arm round her as he spoke.

  Now they were in the doorway and Filipa was struggling violently against him.

  But she knew that he was too strong and he was moving her slowly but surely into the next room.

  “There is no point in fighting me,” he said. “It makes you even more exciting than you are already. And let me tell you, I am always the conqueror.”

  The way he spoke frightened her more than she was already.

  As he pulled her into the empty anteroom, she gave a little scream like an animal caught in a trap.

  It was then, as if St. Michael and all his angels had come to save her, that she heard the Marquis say,

  “Percy! I have been looking for you. They want you at the Baccarat table.”

  “Well, they can do without me!” Lord Daverton said, not releasing Filipa.

  She was still struggling with him.

  But she managed to turn her head so that she could look pleadingly at the Marquis.

  “I think, Percy,” he said, almost drawling the words, “that your presence there cannot be refused.”

  Still holding Filipa by the wrist, Lord Daverton faced the Marquis defiantly.

  There was no doubt that he was furious.

  “Are you commanding me, Kilne, to do something I have no wish to do?” he asked.

  “I think it would be a mistake for you to refuse,” the Marquis replied.

  For a moment the two men just stared at each other.

  Then Lord Daverton capitulated.

  “Damn you!” he swore and walked past the Marquis into the salon.

  Filipa stood where he had left her rubbing her wrist. He had held her so tightly that he had hurt her.

  She was very near to tears.

  As the Marquis did not move, she said in a frightened, faltering little voice,

  “Thank – you! Thank – you! You – saved me! I thought that I could – not get away.”

  “I will see that he does not frighten you again,” the Marquis replied, “and I suggest that you go to bed and forget about him.”

  “Could I do that?”

  There was an eagerness in her voice that she did not disguise.

  Then she thought of Mark and she added,

  “Please don’t – let Mark gamble.”

  “Why not?”

  “He cannot – afford it. But – promise you will not tell him – I said so.”

  Now she was frightened in a different sort of way and the Marquis looked at her before he replied,

  “Anything you say to me will certainly not be repeated. At the same time I cannot believe that Seamour, having just won one thousand pounds, is penniless.”

  “He owes it – all,” Filipa said almost without thinking, “and it was a – miracle that we – won. Otherwise I don’t know what – would have happened.”

  The Marquis stared at her as if he could hardly believe what she was saying.

  “Does it matter so much to you? You are very beautiful, Fifi, and there must be quite a number of men besides Daverton who would be interested in you.”

  For a moment Filipa did not understand and then she said,

  “It is – nothing like – that. Of course it’s – not. It is just that – ”

  She paused and then knew that there was no explanation she could make.

  “I cannot explain – but Mark should – not be here,” she said, “and if I go to bed – perhaps –”

  She looked up pleadingly at the Marquis.

  She was willing him to understand what she could not put into words.

  “Go to bed, Fifi,” the Marquis said in a voice that was kinder than she had expected, “and if it will make you happy, I will look after Mark in your absence.”

  “Will you – really? Do you – promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Filipa gave a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of her heart.

  Then with a shy little smile she turned and ran away across the anteroom and did not look back.

  The Marquis stood staring after her with an astonished expression in his eyes.

  Chapter five

  Filipa went through the door.

  As she expected, it led into the corridor, just before it reached the hall.

  She was hurrying towards the stairs, when coming from the dining room, where he had obviously lingered longer than the other gentlemen, was Lord Seaforth.

  She had noticed towards the end of the meal that he had had a great deal to drink, in fact too much.

  Now she could see that he was moving somewhat unsteadily and hurried more quickly to get out of his way.

  She was obliged, however, to pause for a moment as a footman carrying a silver tray with a number of glasses on it was coming in the opposite direction. He was obviously carrying them back to the pantry.

  He passed her, but as he walked on, Lord Seaforth, now swaying quite violently, knocked into the tray.

  A number of glasses fell off in spite of the footman’s efforts to save them.

  “Curse you!” Lord Seaforth swore. “Why the hell are you getting in my way?”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the footman muttered.

  Then, as Lord Seaforth staggered on, he bent down to pick up the broken glass and Filipa saw that his left hand was bleeding.

  She let Lord Seaforth pass and heard him, as he did so, talking angrily to himself,

  “Damn fool, bumping into me like that! Ought to be sacked for incompetence!”

  He was slurring his words, but Filipa could hear them distinctly enough and she was aware that the footman could hear them too.

  As the footman looked up, she saw that he was very young, little more than a boy.

  Lord Seaforth’s remark had obviously upset him and instinctively she moved towards him, saying,

  “I’m afraid you have hurt your hand.”

  “I didn’t mean to bump into the gentleman,” he answered.

  “No, of course not,” Filipa said. “I saw him lurch into you.”

  Then, as she looked down at his hand, she saw that it was badly cut in several places.

  “You must have that bandaged at once!” she exclaimed.

  At that moment another footman appeared.

  Seeing that the boy who was hurt was still trying to pick up the broken glass, Filipa said,

  “I have to see to this cut hand. Will you please clear away the glass from the floor?”

  “Yes, miss, I’ll do it,” the footman replied and then asked the other footman in a low voice,

  “Are you badly hurt, Henry?”

  “’Tis painful,” Henry replied.

  “Of course it is,” Filipa interposed, “but I will make it feel better if you come with me.”

  H
e stood up irresolutely as she enquired,

  “Where is the pantry? I expect it’s near the dining room.”

  Henry nodded and she said,

  “If you just do as I say I know that your hand will be all right.”

  She walked ahead and he followed her and by instinct she found the pantry quite easily.

  It was a narrow room with a huge safe for the silver against one wall and a sink in front of the window.

  The butler was just putting a tray full of silver that had been brought from the dining room into green baize bags. He stared at her in surprise.

  “Henry has hurt his hand through no fault of his own,” Filipa explained. “Will you fetch me a pot of honey and some clean strips of linen.”

  “Honey, miss?” the butler queried.

  “It will take away the pain and heal the cuts much quicker than anything else.”

  The butler shook his head as if he did not believe her. But it was not his place to say so and he suggested,

  “You can leave Henry here, miss. He’ll be all right.”

  “I think I had better look after him myself,” Filipa replied, “but if you will just fetch me what I need, I will be most grateful.”

  She spoke in a quiet tone of authority that made the butler obey her.

  Then she turned to Henry,

  “Pull up your sleeve and put your hand under the cold tap.”

  She thought that he was going to protest that it would hurt, so she said quickly,

  “You do understand that we must clean it and make quite certain that there are no pieces of glass left in the cuts.”

  “Yes, of course, miss,” Henry said obediently.

  He went to the sink, pushing up the sleeve of his smart livery coat as he did so and then turned the tap on rather gingerly.

  His hand was covered in blood and, as it cleared away, Filipa could see that there were several nasty cuts, but fortunately they were not particularly deep.

  She made Henry keep his hand under the tap, waiting for the butler to return.

  After a moment he said,

  “If they sack me for this, it’ll break me Ma’s heart. She were ever so proud of me comin’ up to work at the Big House.”

  “Hold old are you?” Filipa asked him.

  “Fifteen, miss.”

  “I am quite certain that, since it was not your fault, you will not lose your position.”

  Henry’s face puckered and she thought that he was going to cry.

  “His Lordship expects everythin’ to be perfect and if anythin’ goes wrong he’s ever so angry.”

  Filipa thought this was what she might have expected of the Marquis, but did not say so.

  Instead she waited impatiently for the butler to reappear.

  He had a pot of thick white clover honey in his hand and some strips of linen that looked as if they had just been torn from an old but well-washed sheet.

  Filipa smiled.

  “Thank you. That is exactly what I want.”

  The butler put the honey and the linen down on the pantry table.

  He was obviously prepared to watch with curiosity what she was about to do.

  She inspected Henry’s hand to make quite certain that there was not a sliver of glass left in the cuts.

  Then, to the butler’s astonishment and hers, the Marquis walked into the pantry.

  “I hear there has been an accident,” he said, “due, Lord Seaforth tells me, to gross incompetence on the part of one of the footmen.”

  Filipa heard Henry draw in his breath so sharply that it was almost a cry of despair.

  Looking up at the Marquis, she said,

  “I saw exactly what happened, my Lord, and there was nothing incompetent about it. Lord Seaforth was – walking extremely unsteadily and suddenly lurched into a tray of glasses that Henry was carrying.”

  She paused and feeling that the Marquis was unsympathetic, added,

  “He tried to prevent them from falling and, as you can see, cut his hand rather badly.”

  The Marquis looked at her as if he could hardly believe that she was defending a servant so vigorously.

  “I am sure,” he said, “there is someone who can look after the boy’s injuries without troubling you.”

  “I doubt it,” Filipa replied.

  As she spoke, she picked up a silver spoon from the table and, filling it from the pot of honey, she very gently spread it over Henry’s wounds.

  While she did so, the Marquis and the butler just watched in silence.

  When the palm of his hand was covered in honey, she made a pad with a strip of linen to cover it.

  Then she bandaged it neatly with an expertise that came from long practice.

  There had often been someone in the village or on their small estate who was in trouble and the nearest doctor lived four miles away.

  It had always been easier for her mother or herself to look after the invalid than to send someone for the doctor and wait hours, sometimes a full day, before he reached them.

  “Now you will find that the honey takes away the pain,” Filipa said to Henry, “and, as your cuts are not deep, they should heal in three days’ time.”

  “I hopes so,” Henry said miserably.

  “Until then, you must keep it bandaged,” Filipa went on. “I am sure that Emily or one of the housemaids will do it for you if I am not here.”

  “I may not be here,” Henry muttered beneath his breath.

  He looked at the Marquis apprehensively.

  “I am sure,” Filipa said quietly, “his Lordship will understand that the accident – was not your fault in any way.”

  She glanced at the Marquis as she spoke and thought that he looked rather grim.

  She moved from the pantry, saying as she did so to the butler,

  “If you can possibly excuse him, I think that Henry ought to lie down and take things easy.”

  She did not wait for a reply, but walked into the corridor feeling sure that the Marquis would follow her.

  He in fact caught up with her before she had gone more than a few paces.

  “You appear to have taken over the management of my household, Fifi!” he began mockingly.

  “Henry is only fifteen,” Filipa answered. “And he says it will break his mother’s heart if he is sacked for incompetence. I gather that, as he calls this ‘the Big House’, they are your people.”

  “I have always employed local men and women where it is possible,” the Marquis replied. “But I don’t expect them to insult my guests.”

  Filipa stopped dead.

  “Henry did nothing of the sort! Lord Seaforth was definitely drunk! You must be aware, as you spoke to him, that he had far too much wine at dinner and was exceedingly unsteady on his feet.”

  She spoke almost angrily, thinking that the Marquis was being unfair and unjust.

  Then, as she looked up, she saw that his eyes were twinkling.

  Just for a moment they looked at each other and she said in a low voice,

  “You will – let him – stay?”

  “Does it matter so much to you?”

  “I think at that age everyone is very – vulnerable,” she replied. “I know I was very easily hurt and, if I had been – treated unfairly or – unjustly it was something I would – never have forgotten.”

  There was what seemed like a long silence and then the Marquis said,

  “Henry is lucky to have such a powerful advocate. You have proved your point, Fifi, so now go to bed and forget everything except that, as I hope, you have enjoyed yourself.”

  “Yes, of course, it has been wonderful!” Filipa answered. “And the race was the most exciting thing I have ever done.”

  “But I think at dinner,” the Marquis said, “you were somewhat embarrassed, even shocked.”

  “How do you – know?” Filipa asked.

  Then she remembered that she had seen him watching her.

  “I expect you will think it very – foolish,” she said without think
ing, “but I was – shocked.”

  Then, fearing that she had said too much, she turned away and hurried to the bottom of the stairs.

  As she started to climb them, she looked back to see the Marquis standing where she had left him, gazing after her.

  For a moment she had a strange impulse to go back to him.

  Then, almost as if she was running from herself, she hurried on up the stairs.

  It was only when Emily had undressed her and she had climbed into bed that she remembered what she had thought Lord Seaforth was saying to Yvonne at dinner.

  ‘I shall have to do something about it!’ she thought.

  The fear she felt when Lord Daverton tried to kiss her and the commotion over Henry had made her forget.

  Now the question was in her mind as to whether she had read aright what Lord Seaforth had said.

  Yet she knew, if she was honest, that she had interpreted every movement of his lips correctly.

  He really did intend to poison the Marquis’s horse so that he would collapse during the race, while Lord Daverton, riding an unknown animal on which Yvonne would get very long odds, would win a fortune.

  The Marquis had said the race was to be open to the public tomorrow and his neighbours could enter it.

  So Filipa was sure that there would be plenty of professional bookmakers present.

  The Marquis’s male guests, with the exception of Mark, would be prepared to wager large sums.

  She could see it was a very clever scheme on the part of Lord Seaforth.

  She wondered how he could have obtained a drug that would take just four hours to assimilate and would work at exactly the time he wanted.

  Then she remembered her father had told her that all over the world unscrupulous men were always experimenting with drugs of one sort or another and these could immobilise or kill.

  In the East they were so cleverly manufactured that a murderer could plant the drug in a man’s food or drink.

  He would then have a perfect alibi by being many miles away before it worked.

  ‘This is the same sort of thing,’ Filipa reasoned, ‘and I expect, as it is being given to a horse, it takes longer.’

  She tossed and turned on her pillow, wondering frantically what she should do.

  She could, of course, denounce Lord Seaforth to the Marquis.

  But she would find it extremely embarrassing to have to explain she was able to lip-read.