Call of the Heart

by Barbara Cartland

  It carried on top an assorted collection of baggage, including several hen-coops and a young goat sewn into a sack.

  As the road was narrow it took Lord Rothwyn some time before he was able to pass the coach.

  Only then was he able to bring his sweating team to a standstill across the road so that the stage-coach was obliged to come to a halt.

  “Wot d’ye think ye’re a-doing of?” the coach-man shouted truculently.

  “Her Ladyship will be inside, Ned,” Lord Rothwyn said. “Ask her to join me.”

  “Very good, M’Lord.”

  Ned climbed down from the curricule and ran to the coach.

  The coach-man and the man up on the box shouted abuse at him, but he paid no attention and pulled open the heavy door.

  Packed in amongst fat farmers, small children, a Parson, and two commercial travelers, he saw Lalitha.

  She was sitting with her head bent, her hood pulled low over her forehead so that those in the coach could not see her tears.

  It had been impossible not to cry as the coach took her further and further away from everything that meant security and happiness.

  As they had driven through the great stone gates of Roth Park and reached the open road Lalitha admitted to herself that she was leaving behind the man she loved.

  She had loved him, she thought, since the moment he kissed her in the Church-yard thinking she was Sophie.

  She had loved him although she had been frightened of him when he had come to her room and she had thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life.

  It was not only his looks; there was something else about him to which she instinctively reached out.

  She could not explain it.

  It was as if something secret within her recognised in him all that she longed for in life.

  Even alone in her beautiful bed-room she had been conscious that the house, the furnishings, the pictures, all were a part of him. _

  Just as his ancestor had built into the house his mind, his imagination, and heart, so Lord Rothwyn had imprinted his personality on it.

  Then when they had talked together and Lord Rothwyn had shown her his possessions he had been kind and gentle in a manner which she had never expected from any man, let alone

  from him.

  She recognised now that she had lost her heart hopelessly and irretrievably.

  ‘I love him! I love him!” she whispered, “and now I shall never see him again!”

  It demanded a tremendous effort of self-control not to cry until Sophie had dropped her at the cross-roads.

  “Good-bye, Lalitha,” she had said as the stagecoach lumbered into sight. “Do not forget your promise to forget that mock-marriage to Lord Rothwyn and all that has happened since. He will not remember your existence and neither shall I!”

  Lalitha did not answer but merely stepped out of Sophie’s carriage carrying her small bundle under her arm and with some difficulty a place was found for her in the already overcrowded coach.

  Sophie did not wait to see her go.

  As soon as Lalitha was on the road the coach-man turned back the way they had come—back towards Roth Park.

  It was hot and noisy inside the coach. There was a smell of food and smoke and sweat, but Lalitha could think only of Sophie’s beauty as Lord Rothwyn would see her when he returned that evening.

  She thought of him walking into the house, the dogs running to greet him. Then he would find waiting for him not herself, as he would have expected, but Sophie.

  She could imagine his arms going round her, Sophie’s lovely face turned up to his, and then he would kiss her.

  The thought, the pain of it, was an agony within her breast that she had not believed possible.

  It was worse than the pain she had endured from her Stepmother’s beatings; worse than anything she had ever suffered before.

  Lalitha shut her eyes.

  “How can I bear to think of it for the rest of my life?” she asked and then the tears came.

  She wiped them away surreptitiously but she could not check them.

  The stage-coach rumbled on, stopping at one small village and then another.

  Some passengers got out, others got in, and goods were taken down from the roof.

  It caused an inordinate amount of noise, shouting, heavy thumpings, and occasionally a bleat from the goat.

  On again.

  Still Lalitha could think of nothing but Lord Rothwyn; the way he had talked to her with sympathy and understanding, and the occasional look in his eyes which would make her draw in her breath and find it difficult to speak.

  Had he any fondness for her at all? she wondered. Or had she just been an encumbrance—someone forced upon him by chance and whom he would be glad to see go?

  Again it was an agony to think that she had meant nothing!

  Then sharply she tried to rally her pride and the courage she had always thought she possessed.

  She must face facts. She was of no consequence to him, a woman he would never even have encountered had it not been for Sophie’s perfidy.

  He had been sorry for her, that was obvious, but how was it conceivable that he could have any other feeling for someone so unattractive?

  Lalitha told herself than anyone who had looked at Sophie’s incredibly breath-taking beauty would be immune to the attraction of other women however fascinating.

  As she herself had no attractions at all she could certainly not be fascinating to someone as fastidious as Lord Rothwyn.

  She had always guessed that there had been many other women in his life, and if she had not, Nattie’s chatter would not have left her long in ignorance.

  “He’s had too much in life, His Lordship has!” she said once. “Spoilt he’s been ever since he was a small boy by everyone who admired him.”

  “Was he always so handsome?” Lalitha asked.

  “The most beautiful child I’ve ever seen, like a little angel!” Nettie answered. “And when he grew older he stood out in any company. No wonder the ladies were always after him!”

  “Were . . . they?” Lalitha asked in a low voice.

  “But of course,” Nettie replied. “With His Lordship’s looks, his position and his wealth, he is every young girl’s dream and the match every mother wants for her daughter.”

  “It is strange that he has not married before,” Lalitha said.

  “That’s what I've often said to him,” Nattie said, “but he always laughs and says: ‘I have not yet found a woman to come up to my ideal!’ ”

  Eventually he found her, Lalitha thought with a little sob. He found Sophie, who was as beautiful in her way as His Lordship was handsome in his.

  “An ideal couple!” She could imagine the excitement their marriage would cause in the Beau Monde.

  He would take Sophie to Carlton House. She would grace the Opening of Parliament and be without exception the most beautiful Peeress at the Coronation.

  Lalitha fought back her sobs.

  “Why, oh why,” she asked in her heart, “could I not have fallen in love with an ordinary man? Someone of no Social consequence who might perhaps have loved me and we could have found happiness together in a cottage?”

  But, no, she had had to love a man who was as far beyond her as the stars in the sky!

  “How can you be so foolish?” How can you be so foolish?” the wheels of the coach seemed to say to Lalitha as they rumbled over the dusty roads.

  Her answer seemed also to repeat itself over and over again.

  “I cannot help it! I cannot help it!”

  The tears were wet on her cheeks when unaccountably the coach came to a sudden stand-still.

  She could hear the coach-man shouting outside and one of the passengers, an elderly farmer, said angrily: “What be we stopping for now? Us be late enough already.”

  “It’s disgraceful that these coaches never run to time,” a tight-lipped, middle-aged man who was obviously a clerk said sharply.

 
As he spoke the door was opened and a groom with a high cockaded hat and crested silver buttons on his livery put his head inside.

  He looked round at the passengers, saw Lalitha, and said:

  “’is Lordship be waiting outside, M’Lady.”

  Her head came up quickly.

  For a moment she stared at him incredulously, and then she said hesitatingly:

  “H-His ... Lordship?”

  “’e be waiting, M’Lady.”

  The other passengers had been stunned into silence at this exchange.

  Now the clerk who had been complaining said:

  “If you be getting out, Ma’am, we’d be obliged if you’d do it sharpish like. All these delays are a-making us extremely late.”

  “I am sorry,” Lalitha tried to say.

  She had some difficulty in disentangling herself from the two passengers on either side of her and even more in stepping across the legs of those between her and the door.

  Ned helped her down into the road and she saw ahead the four horses drawn across the highway to prevent the coach from

  proceeding.

  On the curricule the driver wore his hat at an angle she could not fail to recognise.

  Her heart was beating suffocatingly as she walked towards him. When she reached the curricule Ned helped her into it.

  She sat down beside Lord Rothwyn and the groom covered her gown with a light rug.

  Then the horses were moving and Ned had sprung up behind them.

  For a moment it was impossible for Lalitha to look at Lord Rothwyn and she was acutely conscious that anything they said could be over-heard.

  After a moment when he did not speak to her she stole a glance at him.

  His face was in profile, and yet it was impossible not to see the scowl between his eyes and that his mouth was set in a hard line.

  Now she felt as if an icy hand squeezed the blood from her heart. He was angry! Angry with her and yet she had done what she thought was right for him; what would bring him happiness!

  Lord Rothwyn drove on until they reached a village green where he was able to turn his horses. Then they were forced to wait for the stage-coach to pass them.

  The sun which had been sinking in a blaze of glory disappeared over the horizon and it was growing dusk.

  The road back towards Roth Park looked shadowy and indistinct.

  “Why did you leave?” Lord Rothwyn asked before re-starting his team.

  “I... I. . . thought you w-would ... no longer ... want me to s-stay,” Lalitha stammered.

  It was difficult for her to speak clearly because she was so disturbed by his anger and by the hard note in his voice.

  “Did you want to go?” he enquired.

  Then as she looked at him in bewilderment that he should ask such a question, he saw the tear-stains on her cheeks and that her long eye-lashes were wet.

  Quite suddenly he smiled and the darkness was gone from his face as he said:

  “Have you not learnt by this time that I never leave unfinished a building on which I am working?”

  There was no longer a pain within her breast and she was no longer frightened.

  A wave of incredible happiness swept over her, but before she could answer him he had tightened the reins and the horses moved forward.

  “He is taking me back!” Lalitha told herself. “Back . . . home!”

  She hardly dared think the word—let alone say it, even to herself.

  The horses were travelling quickly, but not as quickly as they had on the outward journey. Yet it still seemed to Lalitha to be very fast after the lumbering of the over-laden stage-coach. There was no longer the smell, the heat, and the dose proximity of the passengers.

  There was a wind in her face and something like a wild elation in her heart.

  There was no need for words.

  She could only feel that once again Lord Rothwyn had taken her out of a deep, dark dungeon into the light and she was blinded by it.

  They were held up while a herd of cows who had obviously been to a farm to be milked crossed the road back to the fields. “You are all right?” Lord Rothwyn asked.

  “Yes ... quite all ... right.”

  Her misery had vanished, everything seemed light and wonderful. She was beside him and that was all she asked of life.

  It was growing darker and the sky was not as clear as it had been all day. Clouds were gathering, a prelude to rain.

  What was more, they were in forest land on a narrow road winding and twisting between high, dark trees on either side of it, so that it was dangerous to proceed quickly.

  They were in fact moving quite slowly when as they rounded a corner there came a shout from the right-hand side of the road.

  As Lord Rothwyn instinctively pulled in his horses two men on horse-back appeared in front of them.

  “Stand and deliver!”

  Lalitha gave a gasp.

  She saw Lord Rothwyn turn his head to look at the masked highwayman on his side of the curricule.

  Then he put down his hand. In a pocket there was a pistol which was always kept loaded for emergencies such as this. Even as he grasped it the highwayman fired and he fell backwards with a bullet through his shoulder.

  Lalitha gave a terrified scream as Lord Rothwyn dropped the reins and put his left hand up to his wounded arm.

  “Ye’ll keep still if ye knows wat’s good for ye!” the highwayman snarled in a coarse voice.

  “Get ’em off th’ road!” another voice ordered, and Lalitha turned to find that there was yet another highwayman on their left.

  “Four men against two,” she thought despairingly, and Lord Rothwyn already wounded.

  The highwayman who had fired came nearer and now with his horse alongside the carnage leant over to look at his victim.

  Lord Rothwyn’s hat had fallen off with the impact of the shot, but he was sitting upright again and his eyes met those of the highwayman defiantly.

  “Damn you!” he said. “What the devil do you want? We have little of value with us.”

  The highwayman smiled unpleasantly.

  “We be urgently in need o’ new horse-flesh.”

  “Curse you!” Lord Rothwyn expostulated furiously.

  As he spoke Lalitha saw the highwayman turn the pistol he held in his hand round until he was holding it by the barrel.

  He raised it and she knew that he was about to strike Lord Rothwyn on the head and there was nothing he could do about it. He was at a lower level than the highwayman on his horse and already wounded.

  She rose to her feet and put her hands protectively over Lord Rothwyn’s head.

  “No!” she cried desperately. “No! You cannot do that!”

  “Why not?” the highwayman asked.

  For a moment she thought that she could not speak, then in a voice which was broken with fear she faltered:

  “Because ... you are ... known as the ... ‘Gentlemen of the Road,’ and no ... gentleman would ... strike an ... unarmed and helpless ... man.”

  The highwayman looked at her, his eyes gleaming through the slits of his mask.

  He chuckled and remarked:

  “Ye’ve got courage, lidy, O’ll say that for ye! Very well then! But tell His Nibs to keep ’is breakteeth curses to ’imself!”

  Lord Rothwyn would have said something but quickly, even as the words came to his lips, Lalitha put her hand over his mouth.

  She was well aware that he was in a rage when it would be hard for him to restrain himself whatever the consequences might be.

  Then as he felt her thin fingers trembling against his lips he said in a low, controlled voice:

  “I will not provoke him.”

  “Please do . . . not,” Lalitha begged. “I’m so . . . frightened!” He looked at her but he did not speak and she sat down again beside him, her breath coming quickly, her heart beating tumultuously.

  She clasped both her hands round Lord Rothwyn’s arm, to hold on to him to give her courage and a sense of
protection. The two highwaymen who had been in front of them led the team of chestnuts off the roadway and up a rough path into the wood.

  They proceeded some way, leading both their own horses and the chestnuts until they came to a clearing where the trees had recently been felled.

  Here they brought the horses to a stand-still and started to take them from the shafts.

  The other highwayman, who had shot Lord Rothwyn, dragged Ned from the back of the curricule and tied him to a tree.

  “’ere, what’re ye a-doing this for?” Ned asked. “We dinna want ye a-lopping after us too quick like,” the highwayman answered, “but I reckons ye’ll ’ave yer hands full with a wounded man an’ a woman

  As he spoke he bent forward and drew the pistol from the side-pocket where Lord Rothwyn had tried to reach it.

  He turned it over in his hands and smiled.

  “Better than Oi can afford!” he said. “Just as yer ’orses be better blood-stock than us ’ave th’ pleasure o’ .”

  He was, Lalitha knew, being deliberately provocative and her hands tightened on Lord Rothwyn's arm.

  “Give the ‘Gentleman of the Road’ my purse!” Lord Rothwyn said in a calm but sarcastic voice.

  Lalitha did as she was told and the highwaymans eyes fell on her reticule.

  “Oi might as well take that!” he said, “t’ il make a welcome gift for a wench Oi fancy!”

  Lalitha handed it to him.

  He took it, opened the purse, and gave a little whistle of surprise as he saw what was inside it.

  “Generous’t yer be ’e?” he asked mockingly, with a sidelong jerk of his head towards Lord Rothwyn. “In which case, gentleman or no gentleman, yer’ll not wish t’ accompany Oi?”

  “No, thank you,” Lalitha answered, “I have no wish to be hounded, hunted, and live in terror of being caught.”

  The highwayman laughed.

  “Ye’ve got spirit!” he said. “Oi likes a woman with spirit!”

  He looked at Lalitha, his eyes narrowed evilly, and there was a twist on his lips which frightened her.

  She suddenly felt desperately afraid of something which she did not understand and she shrank back against Lord Rothwyn.

  The highwayman put out his hand towards her and she felt Lord Rothwyn go tense.

  Then there was a shout from the men who had been unfastening the horses.