Scarlet Shadows

by Elizabeth Darrell

  “Of course I shall,” she told him, thankful his mood was passing. “I tell you which piece I have moved. You tell me your move, and I will guide your hand. Now, face your complete and disgraceful defeat.”

  Her prowess did not live up to her boast, and the game was quickly won by Hugo, who was an expert on tactics. He went into a long lecture on what she should never have done under such circumstances, and they argued heatedly until Stokes judged it the right time to bring in the tea tray, bestowing a grateful smile on the young lady who could charm his officer out of such a black mood.

  Victoria munched muffins and spoke extravagant endearments to the dogs, who sat at her feet, while she gave a disjointed and amusing account of the Verewoods party at Brankham Hall.

  “Your friend was very charming, Hugo, and plainly much afflicted by your absence.”

  “Dear me, was she?”

  “How can you pretend such surprise? She has made it plain enough how much you occupy her thoughts.” She looked across at him as he sat relaxed with his bandaged head against a cushion. “Are you really going to offer for her, as your mama suggested?”

  He was still for a few moments, then he answered, “I know you are an orphan, Victoria, and can sympathize, but someone should have told you that well-brought-up young ladies do not ask such things of gentlemen — even brothers.”

  As he was quite obviously amused, she went on. “I see she sent you hothouse fruit today. I am surprised that she has not called again. Perhaps you overdid your pretense to ensure her departure, and she truly believes her visit has hastened you toward the grave.”

  He broke into irrepressible laughter. “I trust you did not speak of Miss Verewood in such manner to Mama, Victoria.”

  “No,” she cried, shocked. “What I say to you remains between the two of us, I assure you.” She hesitated. “Only because you never appear to disapprove of my opinions.”

  “Wait until the twenty-eighth. There will be a different story then, sister dear, for I shall be able to see to box your ears. That is a severe warning.”

  “I am quaking in my shoes,” she giggled, so glad his optimism was restored. “We played some capital games last night. Miss Merrifield shrieked quite terribly when a gentleman told a ghost story and produced a polished skull. It was so amusing one could not take it seriously. Oh, and Miss Frere lost her sash when the doctor seized her during Blind Man’s Buff. He was most apologetic.”

  Hugo smiled. “Had I attended there would have been no need to produce a scarf. I could have obliged as ‘Blind Man’ every time.” He set down his cup with great care and stood up. “It is one thing I could have done better than any guest. Shall I find you, Victoria?”

  “You will stumble. Pray, do not be so foolish.” She laughed. “You would never catch me, for I can flit away so quickly.”

  “Oho, if your skill at this is as dismal as at chess, I shall have you in a matter of minutes.”

  “We shall see,” she cried, jumping up. “I am certain to win this game.”

  Quick steps took her into the far corner, but after listening carefully Hugo began to walk unsteadily in her direction. Hemmed in by the desk and a sofa, she remained where she was, believing he would veer away. He did not.

  “You are in the corner by the desk,” he said lightly, “and you are trapped. What you have forgotten, my dear, is that, unlike guests at a party, I have been in total darkness for ten days and have learned to live by sounds only.”

  She shrank against the wall as he came nearer, arms outstretched, and held her breath. He was smiling and waving his fingers in a teasing manner, when suddenly, stunningly, she knew she could not let him reach her. Her whole body began to tremble. Breathing became difficult. He was almost upon her when an urgent impulse made her duck beneath his arms and run to the door.

  She did not stop running until her own door closed behind her, and then she leaned against it shaking and cold, unable to understand why she had run away from him.

  Chapter Three

  On Boxing Day everyone gathered at 11:00 A.M. in the Great Hall to open the gifts piled beneath the fir tree. Stokes brought Hugo downstairs and waited some feet away, plainly uneasy in such exalted company. Lord Blythe handed out the packages, his childlike excitement evident as he waited to see what they contained.

  With trembling fingers Victoria opened a jeweler’s box from Charles to discover a complete set of garnets nestled on white velvet. They took her breath away, but there was more. In a completely unexpected gesture, Lady Blythe had chosen a white Chantilly lace shawl with a silk fringe, and even her comment that it would start the young girl on the road to better taste did not dim Victoria’s pleasure in the gift. From Lord Blythe there was a folding fan of white feathers with jeweled sticks and a matching bouquet holder. Aunt Sophy’s gift was a tiny gold watch to pin to a dress.

  The extravagance of these gifts left Victoria round-eyed with appreciation, but her words of thanks sounded inadequate even to her own ears. Never in her life had she been given such presents, but her natural instinct, to run and kiss the cheek of each giver, was subdued by fears of appearing childish to these grand people. Instead, she exclaimed over them all in turn. It was only then that it occurred to her that there was nothing for her from Hugo. A sharp disappointment had only just pierced her when her better nature said he could not have produced a present, situated as he was.

  A quick glance at him banished any selfish thoughts from her mind, for he was sitting awkwardly on the dainty chair, holding parcels in his hands that he could not unwrap. And if he could not do so, how would he know what they contained? Leaving her gifts neglected by her chair, she went across to him.

  “My dear brother, if you do not want to see what is inside those boxes, I do, so let us unwrap them before I die of curiosity,” she said lightly, sinking to the floor beside him.

  He smiled wryly. “Victoria, you fool nobody, least of all me, with your hearty sickroom manner. You know quite well I shall make myself look foolish if I attempt to untie ribbons or open boxes. That is why I am dependent on the first kind soul who takes pity on me.”

  “Nonsense,” she declared. “I should like to know who would take pity on a young gentleman in dashing attire who has an armful of expensive gifts from a loving family. If you were in tatters and begging for food I might then consider it, so kindly cease trying to wring tears and sighs from me. Let us see what this contains. It is a most unusual shape. Can you guess its contents?” She put it into his hands to let him feel it.

  Since it was obviously a book, he made a pretense of being greatly puzzled, until she took it from him with a laugh and tore off the wrappings to reveal the title.

  “Here is an intriguing box, Hugo. It is from your mama. What could it be?” Feverish fingers tore the paper away. “It is a beautifully tooled leather valise, which will last your lifetime as you go where the regiment demands. I must say that I have not seen a more handsome one before. Oh, and here is something from Charles.”

  Each parcel was dealt with in turn until there was only the riding crop left, and she was in a dilemma — but only for a moment or two, for she really wanted him to have it.

  “There is one other. It is not to be compared with the others because you arrived unexpectedly and there was no time to…”

  “What is your gift, Victoria?” he asked quietly. “You have already given me so much.”

  “Here, open this one yourself. It will not break if you drop it, and you will have no doubts as to what it is.”

  He broke the wrapper with strong fingers and tested the riding crop she had bought in the village.

  “You have made an excellent choice. I shall value it, Victoria.”

  She felt suddenly awkward. “I am glad you are not laughing at the folly of presenting a brilliant horseman with a whip not of his own choosing.”

  “I would not laugh at anyone who is so confident in my using one ever again. What would I have done without your optimism these black days?” He tu
rned his head. “Is Stokes there?”

  “Yes.” She was disappointed that he intended returning to his room immediately.

  “Stokes,” he called.

  The Hussar vanished through the door as Hugo said, “I have a small gift for you and, in the same manner as you, had little time to choose, but it comes with my deep affection and thanks.”

  The soldier reentered, and Victoria could only give a long sigh as she watched him approach with a wriggling golden body which he set down on four shaky legs before her.

  “You dearest creature! I love you on sight. Oh, how adorable you are,” she cried rapturously, scooping the puppy up in her arms and crooning endearments into its satin ears. “You are the most beautiful thing I ever possessed. I shall never let you out of my sight for one moment.” Clutching the animal to her breast, she was close to tears. “Hugo, she is the perfect, the only present you could have given me. I can never thank you enough. You are the best brother anyone could wish for. I do not deserve to be so happy.”

  It was some moments before she turned to the rest of the family to hold the fat little animal aloft. “Do see her. Is she not the most noble creature you ever set eyes on? I shall call her Glencoe, because Hugo’s dogs are named after battlefields and he will only mock her if I name her Nugget or Guinea. Look, Charles, can you dare resist her exquisite face?”

  “An animal beyond compare, my dear, but I suggest Stokes remove it before an uncomfortable accident occurs among all these beautiful gifts.”

  She was so delighted with the little dog that his strained manner eluded her. She was unprepared when the group dispersed to dress for luncheon and Charles walked with her to her room.

  “I am having the happiest of times, Charles,” she told him with enthusiasm. “Your family have all been so very kind to me. I had wondered, at the beginning, whether they might not take to me, but any doubts I had have flown. Such thoughtfulness, such affectionate consideration must have gone into their gifts that I can only believe they will love me as a daughter when the time comes.”

  “Of course they will, Victoria. There was never any chance that they would not accept the bride of my choice. I trust you will not let them down.”

  At long last his taut withdrawn manner impressed itself upon her and she looked up in quick concern. “Is something wrong, Charles?”

  “Nothing that cannot be corrected, my dear.” His voice was cold. “Your youth is one of the things that draws my admiration, but you are out of the schoolroom, and I do not expect you to behave as if you were still in it.”

  “I do not understand. Have I made you angry?” The light was beginning to fade from her face.

  “Not angry — disappointed, perhaps. You were on your knees opening Hugo’s packages. On your knees, Victoria. I could see that you were not aware of the fact, nor that my parents were embarrassed by your hoydenish behavior. Thank heaven we had no guests with us. As my wife I shall expect you to behave with decorum, certainly not to give a childish display of exaggerated excitement that should be confined to the nursery.”

  “Please stop,” she cried. “I can’t bear to hear another word.”

  “It will have to be said nevertheless.” His eyes were hard and devoid of affection: She had never seen him look so much a stranger. “I am prepared to allow you a certain leeway when youthful enthusiasm adds to your charm, but I will not have my future wife capering about the floor like an unruly child. In future, you will sit on a chair as any well-bred woman would do.”

  They had reached her door, where he turned to face her. “And another thing my dear. While I am happy to allow you to keep a dog, you will please treat it as such. That outburst of ridiculous sentiment did not become you. One might almost have supposed you valued it more highly than my own gift.”

  *

  December 28 dawned crisp and clear. Fresh snow had fallen during the night, filling in footprints and lying clean and white across the area outside the kitchen door, where much coming and going had yellowed the spread beneath the feet of servants and dogs.

  Victoria awoke from a restless sleep to know a fluttering anxiety. This morning the doctor was coming to unbind Hugo’s eyes, and the truth would be made plain. No more “supposing” or “of course”; no more “will he?” or “will he not?” It would be impossible to evade the fact that had already been decided at the time of the accident and had been hiding behind the blindfold for two weeks.

  She decided to emulate Lady Blythe in succumbing to a headache that prevented her from leaving her room. Charles courteously refrained from disturbing her, merely sending a note containing his wishes for her speedy recovery in time for the dinner party his parents were giving that evening. Had he come to her he would have found no darkened room or atmosphere reeking of vinegar and smelling salts. His beloved was curled up on the window seat, cuddling Glencoe and staring out across the snowbound grounds, in closer communion with the Lord than she had been for some years.

  Her confidence in His goodness and mercy had had her believing in Hugo’s complete recovery, but all kinds of fears beset her now that the moment of revelation had come. She still had no doubts of the Lord’s benevolence, but He had taken her parents when she had not wanted to lose them, and He had also taken Hugo’s father at a time when the wickedness of the woman who bore him had left him, a babe, alone in the world. Of course, provision had been made in both cases, and she could only wonder now if He might have some reason for depriving this young man of his sight — a reason known only to Himself.

  In her prayers she asked that, if this were the case, He might reconsider the matter. Hugo Esterly was a thinking man who could be of great service to mankind in his profession, and if He would spare him this blow she would undertake to mend her own ways and think more kindly of others — even the Charity Verewoods of the world.

  This promise suitably impressed upon the One above, she sat reliving her visits to the young man whose nerves would now be strung to a pitch of tension near to breaking point. Her fingers rubbed gently on the fat tummy of the puppy sleeping in her arms and, now and again, she would nuzzle the golden body with her face, murmuring her hopes and fears into floppy ears. Rosie had been dispatched to the lower regions to note when the doctor departed, then to return with all haste with the verdict, so the sleeping Glencoe was treated to her mistress’s confessions with no chance of their being overheard.

  It was past noon when the servant girl returned and there was no need for her to say a word: the radiance of her expression told it all. Victoria told the girl to go down on her knees with her mistress, but the words of thanks did not come easily through the sudden onslaught of pain deep in the pit of Victoria’s stomach that so surprisingly resembled the ache Charles put there with his embraces.

  Her impulse to run through the Mirror Room to share her relief with Hugo had to be curbed. No doubt he would be surrounded by his family just now, and this was just the kind of childish behavior Charles had condemned in her. In an agony of impatience she waited until just before luncheon before sending Rosie with a note couched in restrained terms, expressing her gladness at his recovery. His reply was immediate.

  I read your note with mixed feelings: great thankfulness that I could read it, but puzzlement over the way it was written. It did not seem to reflect the person I know, but when your maid explained that you were indisposed, I understood. Please recover by this evening. I am anxious to see the sister who has been the greatest influence in my recovery.

  H.

  Victoria clutched the letter against her as her eyes closed. He could see; he had written a letter to prove it. Tonight he would be dining with them all in the confidence that he would knock nothing over nor make any awkward mistake. After a mad twirl around the room, she sent Rosie to say her mistress would take luncheon in her room in order to be completely recovered by evening. Then she danced into the dressing room to select the most suitable dress for the occasion.

  Lord Blythe’s sister and her husband, with one o
f their sons and both daughters, arrived during the afternoon for a stay of two nights, and Victoria was requested to take tea with Lady Blythe in order to meet the ladies. Aunt Patti was far too conscious of her blue blood; the daughters appeared rather deficient in it, being pale and frail with hardly any conversation. Victoria, glowing with new happiness, overwhelmed them into silence, strengthening her belief that women were, on the whole, insipid and uninteresting.

  The Massingham girls occupied rooms in the South Gallery near Victoria, so it was the most natural thing for them to meet upon the sound of the gong and make their way in a trio of delicate crinolines to the withdrawing room, where the Verewoods were already assembled with Lord and Lady Blythe and the gentlemen.

  Victoria was certain the corridors were echoing with her heartbeat as she approached the face-to-face meeting with Charles’s brother. Everyone else present tonight knew Hugo so well, had seen him walking, eating, laughing, swinging himself into the saddle, taking a staircase two steps at a time — all the natural actions of a young man. Only she knew no other than a chairbound figure who groped and fumbled and who had to be led like a child who might fall. Only she had seen no more than a man behind a mask. To the others he would be just Hugo again. What would he be to her?

  She was startled by the dimness of the room, for only half the candle brackets were in use and the lamps were unlit. The dark-paneled walls loomed in half shadow, with the oriental jars standing in ghostly isolation on their pedestals and the crimson-covered chairs so far apart from each other they seemed even more like the thrones of separate kingdoms. Charles appeared at her elbow before she had had time to register details of figures occupying the room. He smiled down at her.

  “There is no need to inquire whether you have recovered, dearest, for I have never seen such a bloom on your cheeks.” He kissed her fingers with lingering tenderness. “The low lighting is in deference to Hugo. After two weeks in total darkness he must be introduced to brightness gradually. What a tremendous day this is for us all. Come and say your greetings to the Verewoods, then you may offer your congratulations to my brother.”