Curse of the Kings

by Виктория Холт

"I don't understand this. Do you mean that you will marry me because Sir Ralph has implied that he wants you to?"

  "That's not the only reason, of course."

  "Tell me some others," I said.

  "For one, when I leave for Egypt, you could come with me. You would be pleased by that, I'm sure."

  "Yet, even that does not seem to me an adequate reason for marrying."

  He stopped and faced me. "There are others," he said, and drew me close to him.

  I said: "I would not wish to marry because I would be a useful member of an expedition."

  "Nevertheless," he replied, "you would be."

  Then he kissed me.

  "If love came into it ..." I began.

  Then he laughed and held me tightly against him.

  "Do you doubt that it does?"

  "I am undecided and I should like some sort of declaration."

  "First let me have one from you because I'm sure you will do so better than I. You're never at a loss for words. I'm afraid I am . . . often."

  "Then perhaps I shall be even more useful to you. Writing your letters, for instance. I shall be a good secretary."

  "Is that your declaration?"

  "I suppose you know that I have been in love with you for years. Sir Ralph knew it, I believe."

  "I had no idea I was so fortunate! I wish I had known before."

  "What would you have done?"

  "Asked myself whether if you knew me better you might have changed your mind, and wondered whether I dared allow that to happen."

  "Are you really so modest?"

  "No. I shall be the most arrogant man in your life."

  "There are no others of any importance . . . and never have been. I shall spend my life if necessary convincing you of that."

  "So you agree to share it with me?"

  "I would die rather than do anything else."

  "My dearest Judith! Did I not say that you had a way with words!"

  "I have told you quite frankly that I love you. I should like to hear you say that you love me."

  "Have I not made it clear to you that I do?"

  "I should love to hear you say it."

  "I love you," he said.

  "Say it again. Keep saying it. I have so long dreamed of your saying those words. I can't believe this is really true. I am awake now, am I? I'm not going to wake up in a minute to hear Lady Bodrean ringing the bell?"

  He took my hand and kissed it fervently. "My dear dear Judith," he said. "You put me to shame. I don't deserve you. Don't think too highly of me. I shall disappoint you. You know my obsession with work, I shall bore you with my enthusiasms."

  "Never."

  "I shall be an inadequate husband. I have not your gaiety, your spontaneity, everything that makes you so attractive. I can be dull, far too serious . . ."

  "One can never be too serious about the important things of life."

  "I shall be moody, preoccupied. I shall neglect you for my work."

  "Which I intend to share with you, including the moods and the preoccupation, so that objection is overruled."

  "I am not able to express my feelings easily. I shall forget to tell you how much I love you. You alarm me. You are carried away by your enthusiasms always. You think too highly of me. You hope for perfection."

  I laughed as I laid my head against him. "I can't help my feelings," I said. "I have loved you so long. I only want to be with you, to share your life, to make you happy, to make your life smooth and easy and just as you wish it to be."

  "Judith," he said, "I will do my best to make you happy."

  "If you love me, if you allow me to share your life, I shall be that."

  He slipped his arm through mine and gripped my hand tightly.

  We walked on and he talked of the future. He saw no reason why our marriage should be delayed; in fact he would like it to take place as soon as possible. We were going to be very busy with our plans. Would I mind if after the ceremony we stayed at Giza House and plunged straight into our arrangements?

  Would I mind? I cared for nothing as long as I could be with him. The greatest joy which could come to me was to share his life forevermore.

  There was astonishment at Rainbow Cottage when I told Dorcas and Alison my news. They were glad that I was to be married but they were a little dubious about my bridegroom. Oliver Shrimpton would have been so much more eligible in their opinion; and the rumors in St. Erno's were that the Traverses were rather odd people. And now that Sir Edward had died so mysteriously they felt that they would have preferred me not to be connected with such a mysterious affair.

  "You'll be Lady Travers," said Alison.

  "I hadn't thought of that."

  Dorcas shook her head. "You're happy. I can see that."

  "Oh Dorcas, Alison, I never thought it possible to be so happy."

  "Now, now," said Dorcas, as she used to when I was a child. "You could never do things by halves."

  "Surely one should not contemplate marriage 'by halves' as you say."

  "No, but you hope for too much. You think everything's going to be perfect."

  I laughed at her. "In this marriage," I said, "everything is."

  I said nothing at Keverall Court about my engagement. It hardly seemed appropriate with Sir Ralph so ill; and the next day he died.

  Keverall Court was in mourning, but I don't think anyone missed Sir Ralph as much as I did. The great joy of my engagement was overshadowed. But at least, I thought, he would have been pleased. He had been my friend, and during the weeks before his death, our friendship had meant a good deal to me, as I believed it had to him. How I wished that I could have sat in his room and told him of my engagement and all that I hoped to do in the future. I thought of him a great deal and remembered incidents from the past—when I had brought the bronze shield to him and he had first become interested in me, how he had given me a ball dress and had defended me afterwards.

  Lady Bodrean put on a sorrowing countenance but it was clear that it hid a relief.

  She talked to me and to Jane about the virtues of Sir Ralph; but I sensed that the lull in her hostility to me was momentary and she was promising herself that now that I had lost my champion I should be at her mercy. Little did she know the blow I was about to deliver. I was to be married to the man whom she had wanted for her daughter.

  It was going to be a great shock to her to learn that her poor companion would soon be Lady Travers.

  Hadrian came home. I told him the news.

  "It's not officially announced yet," I warned him. "I shall wait until after the funeral."

  "Tybalt's lucky," he said glumly. "I reckon he's forestalled me."

  "Ah, but you wanted a woman with money."

  "If you'd had a fortune, Judith, I'd have laid my heart at your feet."

  "Biologically impossible," I told him.

  "Well, I wish you luck. And I'm glad you're getting away from my aunt. Your life must have been hellish with her."

  "It wasn't so bad. You know that I always enjoyed a fight."

  That night I had a strange intimation from Sir Ralph's lawyers. They wanted me to be present at the reading of his will.

  When I called at Rainbow Cottage and told Alison and Dorcas of this they behaved rather oddly.

  They went out and left me in the sitting room and were gone some time. This was strange because my visit was necessarily a brief one and just as I was about to call them and tell them that I must be going, they came back.

  Their faces were flushed and they looked at each other in a most embarrassed fashion, and knowing them so well I realized that each was urging the other to open a subject which they found distasteful or distressing in some way.

  "Is anything wrong?" I asked.

  "There is something we think you ought to know," said Dorcas.

  "Yes, indeed you must be prepared."

  "Prepared for what?"

  Dorcas bit her lip and looked at Alison; Alison nodded.

  "It's about your birt
h, Judith. You are our niece. Lavinia was your mother."

  "Lavinia! Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Because we thought it best. It was rather an awkward situation."

  "It was a terrible shock to us," went on Dorcas. "Lavinia was the eldest. Father doted on her. She was so pretty. She was just like our mother . . . whereas we were like Father."

  "Dear Dorcas!" I said, "do get on and tell me what this is all about."

  "It was a terrible shock to us when we heard she was going to have a child."

  "Which turned out to be me?"

  "Yes. We smuggled Lavinia away to a cousin . . . before it was noticeable you see. We told people in the village that she had taken a situation, a post of governess. And you were born. The cousin was in London and she had several children of her own. Lavinia could look after them and keep her own baby there. It was a good arrangement. She brought you to see us, but of course she couldn't come here. We all met in Plymouth. We had such a pleasant time and then saw her off on that train."

  "There was an accident," I said. "She was killed and I survived."

  "And what was going to happen to you was a problem. So we said you were a cousin's child and brought you here ... to adopt you, as it were."

  "Well, you are in fact my aunts! Aunt Alison! Aunt Dorcas! But why did you tell me that story about being unclaimed?"

  "You were always asking questions about the distant cousins who, you thought, were your close family, so we thought it better for you to have no family at all."

  "You always did what you thought best for me, I know. Who was my father? Do you know that?"

  They looked at each other for a moment and I burst out: "Can it really be? It explains everything. Sir Ralph!"

  Their faces told me that I had guessed correctly.

  "He was my father. I'm glad. I was fond of him. He was always good to me." I went to them and hugged them. "At least I know who my parents are now."

  "We thought you might be ashamed to have been born . . . out of wedlock."

  "Do you know," I said, "I believe he really loved her. She must have been the one love of his life. At least she gave him the great solace he needed married to Lady Bodrean."

  "Oh Judith!" they cried indulgently.

  "But he has been kind to me." I thought of the way he looked at me; the amused twinkle in his eyes, the shake of his chin. He was saying to himself: This is Lavinia's daughter. How I wished that he was alive so that I could tell him how fond I had grown of him.

  "Now, Judith," said Dorcas, "you must be prepared. The reason you are expected to be at the reading of the will is because he has left you something. It may well come out that you are his daughter and we wouldn't want it to come as a shock to you."

  "I will be prepared," I promised.

  They were right. I was mentioned in Sir Ralph's will. He had left a quarter of a million pounds to Archaeological Research to be used depending on certain conditions, in whatever way Sir Edward or Tybalt Travers thought fit; he had left an income for life to his wife; to Hadrian an income of one thousand a year; to Theodosia, his heiress, the house on the death of her mother and one half of the residue of his income; the other half was to go to his natural daughter, Judith Osmond; and in the event of the death of one of his daughters her share of his fortune would revert to the other.

  It was astounding.

  I, penniless, unclaimed at birth, had acquired parents and from one had come a fortune so great that it bewildered me to contemplate it.

  Dramatic events had taken place during the recent weeks. I was to be married to the man I loved; and I should not go to him, as I had thought, a penniless woman. I should bring with me a great fortune.

  I thought of Sir Ralph taking my hand and Tybalt's and placing them in each other. I wondered if he had told Tybalt of our relationship and of what he intended to do.

  I then felt my first twinge of uneasiness.

  The truth of my birth was now known throughout the village. That I was Sir Ralph's daughter surprised few; there was a certain amount of gossip among Oliver's parishioners who recounted how I had been educated with his legitimate daughter and nephew and afterwards taken into Keverall Court, albeit in a humble position. They had guessed, they said, being wise after the event. Alison and Dorcas were alternately pleased and ashamed. Alison said that she was glad her father had not had to face this scandal; their sister, the rector's daughter, the mistress of Sir Ralph who had borne him a child! It was rather scandalous. At the same time I, who meant far more to them than their dead sister's reputation, was now a woman of means whose future was secure. I had also so charmed my father that he had shown the world that I was almost as important to him as his legitimate daughter.

  The scandal would die down; the benefits remain.

  They had been so anxious for me to marry but now I was about to do so they were, I sensed, not so pleased. As a young woman of means I no longer needed the financial support a husband could give me, and it was for this support that they had selected first Oliver and then Evan for me; and now, before I had known of my inheritance I had become engaged to that rather strange man whose father had recently died mysteriously. It was not what they had planned for me.

  When I went to them after the reading of the will they looked at me strangely as though I had become a different person.

  I laughed at them. "You foolish old aunts," I cried, "for aunts you have turned out to be, the fact that I'm going to be rich doesn't change me at all! And let me tell you, there is going to be no cheeseparing in this house again. You are going to have an income which will enable you to live in the manner to which you have been accustomed."

  It was a very emotional moment. Alison's face twitched and Dorcas's was actually wet. I embraced them.

  "Just think of it," I said. "You can leave Rainbow Cottage. Sell it if you wish"—for Sir Ralph had left it to them—"and go and live in a lovely house, with a maid or two . . ."

  Alison laughed. "Judith, you always did run on. We're quite happy here and it's our very own now. We shall stay here."

  "Well, you shall never worry about making ends meet again."

  "You mustn't go spending all the money before you've got it."

  That made me laugh. "I believe there's quite a lot of it, and if you think my first thought wouldn't be to look after you, you don't know Judith Osmond."

  Dorcas dabbed her eyes and Alison said seriously: "Judith, what about him."

  "Him?"

  "This er . . . this man you plan to marry."

  "Tybalt."

  They were both looking at me anxiously.

  "Now that er . . ." began Alison. "Now that you have this . . . fortune . . ."

  "Good Heavens," I cried, "you don't think—"

  "We ... we wondered whether he knew . . ."

  "Knew what?" I demanded.

  "That you ... er ... were coming into this money."

  "Aunts!" I cried sternly. "You are being very wrong. Tybalt and I were meant for each other. I'm passionately interested in his work."

  Alison said with a touch of asperity quite alien to her: "I hope he's not passionately interested in your money."

  I was angry with them. "This is monstrous. How could he be? Besides . . ."

  "Now, Judith, we are only concerned for your good," said Dorcas.

  My anger melted. It was true. All their anxiety was for my welfare. I kissed them again. "Listen," I said, "I love Tybalt. Do you understand that? I always have. I always will. And we are going to work together. It's the most ideal match that was ever made. Don't dare say anything else. Don't dare think anything else . . ."

  "Oh, Judith, you always swept everything along with you. I only hope . . ."

  "Hope. Who has to hope when one knows."

  "So you really love him?"

  "Do you doubt it?"

  "No. We were wondering about him."

  "Of course," I said, "he doesn't show his feelings as I do. Who does?"

  They agreed that few did.
<
br />   "He may seem aloof, remote, cool—but he's not so."

  "It would break our hearts if you weren't happy, Judith."

  "There's nothing to be afraid of. Your hearts are going to remain intact."

  "You really are happy, Judith," said Alison.

  "I'm in love with Tybalt," I said. "And he wants to marry me. And that being so, how could I possibly be anything but happy?"

  It was different at the rectory. Sabina welcomed me warmly.

  "Oh this is fun, Judith," she cried in her inconsequential way. "Here we are, the old gang all happily tied up together. It is interesting, isn't it? The only one left out is poor Hadrian. Of course we were uneven weren't we. Three women and four men. What a lovely proportion—and a rare one. Tybalt wasn't really one of us though. In the schoolroom I mean. And dear old Evan and darling Oliver . . . well they were the teachers. I'm so pleased. After all you did bully us, didn't you, Judith, so Tybalt is just right for you. I always say to Oliver you need someone to bully you. And now you've got Tybalt. Not that he'll bully in the way you did but he'll keep a firm hand. You can't imagine anyone bullying Tybalt, can you? Oh, Judith, aren't you lucky! And I can't think of anyone I'd rather have for my darling perfect brother."

  This was more comforting than the views at Rainbow Cottage.

  And she went on. "It was all so exciting. Sir Ralph and all that. . . and the money! You'll be able to go everywhere with Tybalt. My father was always having to get people interested, to back his trips you know. Not that he didn't spend a lot on it himself. We'd have been fabulously rich, my mother used to say, if it hadn't been for my father's obsession."

  So it seemed that whenever my coming marriage was discussed, my recently acquired fortune always seemed to come under consideration.

  I couldn't help enjoying my interview with Lady Bodrean.

  After the will had been read I presented myself to her. She regarded me as though I were quite distasteful, which I suppose I was.

  "So," she said, "you have come to hand in your notice."

  "Certainly I have, Lady Bodrean."

  "I expected it would not be long before you did. So I am to be inconvenienced."

  I replied: "Well, if I was so useful to you, a fact which you very carefully concealed, I would be willing to stay for a week or so until you have replaced me."