The emotion that flooded through her was so distressing and so disturbing that for a few seconds she didn’t know how to cope with it. Then anger came once again to her aid. Zachary Cartwright was egotistical to the point of mania, and she had been quite right to resolve never to speak to him again. To do so, knowing his assumption about her character and motives, would be to utterly demean herself. If ever they did meet again, whatever the circumstances, she would remain frigidly silent. Nothing and no-one would induce her to speak to him again.
Chapter Nine
She was woken in the morning by a hesitant tap on her door. Brilliant sunlight was streaming through the shutters into the room, and Gianetta wondered for a moment whether she had overslept. She opened the door, half expecting to find her uncle on her doorstep, all ready for departure. Instead, she found an anxious-looking Elizabeth Daly.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you so early, Miss Hollis, but after the way you spoke about your pony yesterday I thought I had better warn you …’
She looked as if she had dressed in great haste. The buttons on the long sleeves of her mauve cotton-dress were undone and her grey-streaked hair looked as if it had been wound into a bun without the benefit of a hairbrush.
As the older woman entered the room, Gianetta stared at her bewilderedly. ‘Warn me? About what?’
Elizabeth Daly’s normally serene face was perturbed. ‘Ben. Your pony. I gained the impression yesterday that you were exceedingly fond of him and …’
Fear gripped Gianetta’s heart. ‘I am. Is he ill? Has he broken a leg?’
‘Oh dear. This is very difficult. I’m sure your uncle is going to be very annoyed …’
Gianetta was uncaring as to her uncle’s emotions. ‘What has happened to Ben?’ she demanded in a fever of anxiety.
Elizabeth Daly twisted her hands together unhappily. ‘Nothing, yet, and he isn’t ill, nor has he hurt himself.’
‘Then what on earth …’
‘Your uncle has given instructions that Ben is not to accompany you back to Chung King.’
At the news that Ben was neither hurt nor injured, Gianetta’s fear ebbed and her bewilderment increased. ‘I don’t understand. Is he to stay here instead?’
Elizabeth Daly shook her head. ‘No. We have all the livestock we need and the Missionary Society monitors our budget very carefully. It isn’t possible for us to feed animals that are not needed.’
‘But if Ben isn’t to stay here and he isn’t to return to Chung King, what is to happen to him?’
Elizabeth Daly looked as if she wished herself a million miles away. ‘There may of course be a mistake. Jung-shou may have heard incorrectly …’
Gianetta’s fear began to return. Whatever Jung-shou had overhead, it had obviously distressed Elizabeth. ‘What did Jung-shou say?’ she demanded urgently. ‘For goodness sake, Elizabeth, tell me.’
‘She said that Sir Arthur … that your uncle … has given orders that … that your pony be shot.’
For a dizzying, disorientating moment Gianetta thought she couldn’t possibly have heard correctly. Then with a sob she turned away from Elizabeth and began to scoop up her clothes.
‘How could he do such a thing?’ Feverishly she began to dress, scrambling into her underthings under cover of her nightdress. ‘Where is he now? Who did he give the instructions to?’
‘I don’t know where Sir Arthur is now,’ Elizabeth Daly said as Gianetta pulled her nightdress over her head, letting it fall unheeded to the floor. ‘He gave his orders to the stable-boy.’
‘Where are the stables?’ Gianetta reached for her skirt, stepping into it and tugging it up over her hips, fastening the button at her waist with trembling fingers.
‘At the far end of the other row of bungalows.’
She struggled into her blouse. ‘Please find your husband for me,’ she said feverishly, leaving the vast majority of her blouse buttons undone and beginning to tug her boots on. ‘Tell him what my uncle intends.’
She yanked open the bungalow door. ‘Tell him to come quickly! Tell him there is no time to lose!’
With her hair tumbling around her shoulders, Gianetta ran across the open-ended square.
‘Oh dear God, let me be in time!’ she panted as she reached the bungalows, racing past a schoolroom and a dispensary. ‘Let Ben be alive! Let Jung-shou not have heard correctly! Let it all be a ghastly mistake!’
The stables abutted the last of the bungalows. The doors were open, and Gianetta hurled herself into the strong-smelling interior.
In the dim light, Ben’s milky-pale coat was immediately visible. Gianetta’s relief was so over-powering that for a moment she thought she was going to faint. Weakly she stumbled across the straw-littered ground towards him, pressing her face against the comforting heat of his neck and hooking her fingers into his thick mane.
‘It’s going to be all right, Ben,’ she promised, her heart pounding painfully. ‘No-one is going to harm you. Not now. Not ever.’
As she finished speaking a young Chinese boy entered the stables. It was the same boy who had led Ben away the previous evening. This time he had a rifle in his hand.
On seeing her he stopped abruptly.
‘Go away,’ she said succinctly, beginning to put Ben’s leading rein on him.
‘Pony to be shot,’ the boy said, standing his ground. ‘Big Sir say pony old and no use.’
‘My pony is not old.’ Her voice shook with the passion of her feelings. ‘Nor is he going to be shot.’
She began to lead Ben from his stall. The boy watched her hostilely.
‘Not your pony,’ he said as she walked past him and out into the sunlight. ‘Pony belongs to Big Sir.’
It was a truth she couldn’t refute. In rising panic she wondered how she could possibly ensure Ben’s safety when she had no legal rights to him, when she couldn’t even give him away because he was not hers to give.
‘Gianetta!’ Her uncle’s outraged voice assailed her. ‘What the devil do you think you are doing?’
He was standing on the covered walkway, dressed as immaculately as ever in a white suit with a matching waistcoat. He was also dressed for travel. There was a pith-hat on his head and a walking-cane in his hand.
‘Stay there if you please!’ he shouted. ‘I want a word with you, young lady!’
As her uncle strode along the walkway towards the intersection with the bungalows, Gianetta’s heart began to bang. The next few minutes would be crucial. Somehow she had to persuade him to rescind his instructions; somehow she had to make him see what a crime he would be committing if he did not.
Sir Arthur didn’t step from the walkway to cut across the square. Instead, he kept rigidly to the allotted route, turning abruptly at the corner and striding down the pathway fronting the schoolroom and dispensary.
‘What in God’s name are you doing in the stables so improperly dressed?’ he demanded furiously as he approached her. ‘Have you lost all sense of decency and decorum?’
Gianetta was uncaring of her partially unbuttoned blouse and her tumbled, unbrushed hair.
‘I wanted to check on Ben,’ she said, deeming it wisest not to involve Elizabeth Daly. ‘I wanted to make sure he was ready to leave for the boat.’
‘Such arrangements are none of your affair. Please oblige me and return to your room immediately.’
Gianetta remained motionless. ‘Seconds after I arrived at the stables, so did a stable-boy. He said you had given him instructions to shoot Ben. I told him he had obviously misunderstood your instructions and …’
She had hoped that she was offering her uncle a way to rescind his instructions without losing face. He didn’t do so.
‘Then you told him wrongly. The animal long ago outlived his usefulness, the mission is not in need of him and I have no intention of going to the trouble of transporting him by boat back to Chung King. I would appreciate it if you would now return to your room and dress yourself suitably for the journey ahead of us. We shall be sail
ing in half an hour.’
Gianetta’s eyes held his. He was lying about Ben having outlived his usefulness. Ben wasn’t old. He was sturdy and strong. With a terrible flash of insight she realised her uncle’s true motives. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to make her pay for the inconvenience and humiliation she had caused him. It seemed incredible that her compassionate and loving father could have been older brother to a man so vindictive and small-minded or that Serena, so sweet-natured and kind, could be his daughter.
She said steadily, ‘Ben isn’t old. He won’t be any trouble on the boat trip to Chung King. If you no longer want him then I will find someone who does. Someone who will appreciate him and care for him.’
She didn’t put into words her hope that he might be able to travel with her to England. She still had to find out whether or not such a trip would be in Ben’s best interests.
‘You will do no such thing!’ Sir Arthur’s nostrils were pinched, his lips almost bloodless. ‘I have taken all the impudence from you that I intend to take. From now on you will do exactly as I say, and you will keep your regrettable opinions to yourself.’
All through their altercation the stable-boy had been only yards away, the rifle still in his hands.
Her uncle turned abruptly towards him. ‘Shoot the beast,’ he snapped. ‘Shoot him here and now.’
‘No!’ Gianetta’s hand tightened on Ben’s rein. ‘I won’t let you!’
The boy took up a stance facing Ben and raised the rifle.
‘Stand aside, Gianetta,’ her uncle commanded curtly. ‘I can assure you I’m not going to be thwarted by any mock heroics on your part. If you want the animal’s blood all over your blouse and skirt, then you shall have it.’
Gianetta flung her arms around Ben’s neck, tears streaming her face. ‘You can’t have him shot! I’ll do anything you ask of me, if only you will change your mind! I’ll go the the convent! I’ll never be rebellious again! I’ll …’
‘It’s far too late to make such promises. You’re going to be boarded at the convent whether you like it or not, and you will have no opportunities for further rebelliousness. Now stand aside this instant, or take the consequences.’
‘No!’ She pushed Ben behind her, so that she was standing between him and the rifle. ‘I won’t let you shoot him. I won’t!’
The stable-boy looked towards Sir Arthur for guidance.
‘Prepare to fire!’ Sir Arthur commanded him implacably.
Gianetta swayed, certain that her uncle was mad, and that her last moments had come.
‘For the Lord’s sake!’ Lionel Daly was running towards them, a terrified looking Elizabeth in his wake. ‘Put down that weapon, Li Po! Have you lost all reason, Sir Arthur? Can’t you see that your niece is terrified?’
The stable-boy looked from Sir Arthur to Lionel Daly and then, realising that the fun was over, regretfully lowered the rifle.
Sir Arthur blasphemed and took two quick strides in the stable-boy’s direction. Seizing the rifle from him, he raised the sight to his eye, aiming it directly at Gianetta.
‘Stand aside!’ he barked, uncaring of his growing audience. ‘Stand aside immediately!’
‘This is an outrage, Sir Arthur!’ Lionel Daly panted as he came to a halt a few feet away from him. ‘This is a mission, not a slaughterhouse!’
Sir Arthur ignored him, his finger closing around the trigger. ‘Stand aside,’ he rasped again to Gianetta.
Gianetta remained immobile, Ben patiently standing behind her. ‘No.’ Her voice was cracked and ragged. ‘If I did, and if you pulled the trigger, you would never forgive yourself.’
‘Don’t tell me what I would or would not do!’
Frustrated in his attempts to get a clear view of Ben’s head, Sir Arthur threw the rifle to the ground. For a dizzying moment Gianetta thought that the danger was over, and then he began to walk towards her, taking a small pistol from his pocket as he did so.
‘This may not be powerful enough to put paid to him, but he will most certainly have to be finished off afterwards,’ he said grimly, and raising the barrel of the pistol he pressed it to the side of Ben’s head.
There was uproar. Gianetta was aware of hoof-beats fast approaching, of Elizabeth Daly screaming and of Lionel Daly shouting. She sprang towards her uncle, trying to wrench the pistol from his grasp. A shot sliced the air and she fell against him, wondering for a reeling moment if Ben had been shot; if she had been shot.
‘Just what the hell is going on here?’ a familiar voice demanded tersely as Ben whinned, alarmed but unhurt.
Gianetta pushed herself away from her uncle, turning to face the horseman, never more glad to see anyone in her life.
‘He was going to kill Ben,’ she said, her voice breaking, forgetting all about her vow never to speak to him again. ‘He was going to do it in order to punish me.’
Zachary slid from his saddle, ramming the pistol he had just fired back into his saddle-bag. Then he turned towards Sir Arthur.
‘Is that so, Sir Arthur?’ he asked, regarding him will undisguised contempt.
‘What I may, or may not have intended, is none of your affair. The animal is mine and if I choose to make an end of him I will do so.’
His voice was icily unrepentant and though he had lowered his pistol his fore-finger was still curled around the trigger.
‘You will not do so here,’ Lionel Daly said unsteadily, still breathing harshly after his arthritic sprint towards the stables. ‘Your behaviour this morning has been inexcusable, Sir Arthur. Quite unforgivable. I can only imagine that you are ill. Yesterday’s heat perhaps … or reaction to distress occasioned on your niece’s behalf.’
‘Any distress Sir Arthur has felt or is feeling is purely on his own behalf, not anyone else’s,’ Zachary said darkly. ‘May I ask what your intentions are now, Sir Arthur?’
Ben was nuzzling Gianetta’s hair; Elizabeth Daly was crying softly; Lionel Daly was listening as intently as Gianetta for Sir Arthur’s reply.
‘I am returning to Chung King with my niece.’
‘And Ben?’ Zachary asked, a winged eyebrow rising queryingly. ‘What future do you intend for him?’
‘His future is none of your affair, Cartwright, nor do I intend to submit to the impudence of this cross-examination any longer.’
He put the pistol back into his jacket pocket and adjusted his jade cuff-links. ‘The boat I have engaged will now be ready to sail,’ he said, as if nothing exceptional had taken place. ‘Good-day, Mrs Daly, good-day, Reverend Daly. Your hospitality has been much appreciated.’
He began to walk away and Zachary said in raised tones, ‘Just one moment, Sir Arthur. Before you leave I would like to pursue the question of Ben’s future.’
Sir Arthur swung around, his face livid with hatred. ‘Such concern ill becomes you, Cartwright! If my niece hadn’t stolen him in order to follow you into the wilds of China, his fate would not now be in question. If anyone is to be held responsible for the decision I have taken, it is you.’
‘Then in that case I must obviously make amends.’
Sir Arthur’s eyes narrowed. ‘Exactly what kind of amends did you have in mind?’
‘I’ll buy Ben from you.’
Sir Arthur snorted. ‘Buy a mangy pony from me? You call that making amends? The insult you have occasioned my family requires amends of a far higher order, Cartwright. Have you considered what my position will be when Rendlesham returns to London? News of my niece’s scandalous liaison with you will be all over town. My family name will be irretrievably besmirched. The only way you can possibly make amends is to marry my niece forthwith.’
Gianetta sucked her breath in between her teeth but before she could make a protest Zachary raised his hand slightly, motioning her to keep silent.
‘And if I don’t?’ he asked, ‘what other punishment do you intend for her, over and above shooting Ben before her eyes?’
To Sir Arthur’s stupefied fury and to her husband’s amazement, Elizabet
h Daly answered for him.
‘When she returns to England she is to be boarded in an Anglican convent,’ she said, sensing that nothing but good could come out of the disclosure.
Zachary looked from Sir Arthur to where Gianetta was standing, one hand curled in Ben’s shaggy mane, her hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders, her blouse indecorously open at the throat. A less likely candidate for convent life was hard to imagine.
He sighed heavily, aware that there was only one course of action he could take if her life were not to be made a misery. Fatalistically, he returned his attention to Sir Arthur.
‘If I were to make amends to your niece, there would be a stipulation.’
‘Name it.’
‘You will give Ben to her as a wedding present.’
‘Agreed.’
The last verbal exchange had taken place so quickly that Gianetta was unsure as to whether she had heard aright.
‘I still want to sail to Chung King today,’ her uncle was saying to Lionel Daly. ‘Could the wedding take place this morning? Before luncheon?’
‘No, it could not!’ she erupted explosively, under no doubt at all now as to what was being discussed.
All eyes swivelled towards her.
Her eyes were focussed solely on Zachary. ‘How dare you assume I am willing to marry you? What gives you the temerity? The utter gall …’
Behind her Ben nuzzled her neck.
‘He does,’ Zachary said dryly. ‘If you don’t marry me, the instant you reach Chung King your uncle will have him shot.’
She stared into his suntanned, hard-boned face. It was true. And not only would Ben be shot, she would be packed aboard the first available boat for England en route to a dismal, claustrophobic existence in Lincolnshire.
The silence was so complete that a pin could have been heard to drop. It was Lionel Daly who broke it.
‘This is a quite insupportable situation. I have not the slightest intention of performing a marriage ceremony under these circumstances. Miss Hollis is being most shamefully coerced …’
Moonflower Madness Page 17
