The air was crisp. Sylvia was glad that the Duchess had sent her over a cloak, as well as some dresses from Castle Belham.
Leaning on Charity's arm, Sylvia took a deep, happy breath. It was a beautiful day! The drama of the previous evening seemed to have taken place in another world entirely.
Lord Farron, once he had laid Sylvia on her bed, had rung for a maid. Poor Hattie, the only one to have heard the bell from her quarters behind the kitchen, arrived with her dress and apron thrown on in disarray and her night-cap still on her head. Lord Farron asked Hattie to summon his sister Charity.
Charity appeared minutes later in great concern. Lord Farron spoke to his sister quietly for a moment and then she hurried over to Sylvia's bedside. Sylvia stammered as she recounted her dream and her vision of a figure behind the curtain, which even now was billowing gently in the night breeze. Lord Farron went over to close the window. He assured both Charity and Sylvia that there was no sign of an intruder and Sylvia admitted that her imagination may well have run wild with fear.
Charity elected to remain with Sylvia. Lord Farron bowed and made his excuses. Sylvia's eyes followed him as he left the room.
Charity, tucking the sheets around Sylvia, explained that her brother had arrived home less than an hour ago. He had not wished to wake the household and had therefore stabled the horse that he had hired at the station himself and was on his way to his room when he encountered the distraught Sylvia.
Sylvia reddened. It did not escape her that on the two occasions she had met with Lord Farron, she had ended up being carried in his arms…
She was startled back to the present by Charity pointing out that they were now at the estuary's edge.
Wavelets, stirred up by the breeze, buffed at the earthen bank. A mother duck and her brood circled amid the reeds.
Sylvia, scanning the scene before her, remarked that there seemed to be no other house in the vicinity. Charity said that Farron Towers was indeed located in a lonely spot, although there was a manor called Endecott some five miles down the road.
"Oh," said Sylvia dreamily. "Who lives there?"
"The family that own it is abroad. At the moment it is being rented by a Count. He has been there some months."
Sylvia stooped to look at some bluebells. "Have you met him?" she asked.
Charity shook her head.
Sylvia straightened and stared across the estuary.
"That's where I used to ride a great deal," she suddenly pointed, "over there. I used to see your house and wonder who lived here. Were you brought up at Farron Towers? You and…your brother?"
"We have never lived anywhere else," smiled Charity. "It has been in my father's family for generations. It was left to my brother but he would not hear of me leaving. And to be sure, I have nowhere to go."
"What if…he marries?"
"I don't know," replied Charity. "But his god-mother says he is more interested in the motions of the stars than the ways of women!"
Laughing, the two young women made their way back to the house for breakfast.
Sylvia found herself disappointed that Lord Farron did not join them. She supposed he had travelled so far yesterday and arrived so late he wished to spend the morning in his rooms.
At midday a letter arrived from the Duchess. She wrote that all was well at the castle. She made no mention either of the Count or of the engagement.
Sylvia remained blissfully unaware of the fate that was still being arranged for her. At six o'clock Sylvia and Charity went to their separate rooms to dress for supper.
For the first time in her life, Sylvia found herself fretting about what to wear. If only the Duchess had sent a greater variety of her gowns from Castle Belham. There were only two here that she could possibly don – the midnight blue and the rose. She could not decide which suited her best. In the end she decided on the midnight blue – it seemed more sophisticated.
She sat at the mirror arranging her hair this way and that, feeling at a great disadvantage. She had none of her combs here! None of her jewellery! Not even the tiniest bottle of perfume!
She leaned closer to the glass. Her eyes shone back at her like moonstones. She pinched her cheeks – just as the Duchess used to pinch them – and moistened her lips. Yes, she decided, she would pass. She was pretty. Look at how her hair gleamed in the lamp-light like a cornfield in the sun.
Suddenly she blushed and lowered her eyes from her own image.
Why was she taking such unaccustomed care with her appearance?
As she descended the stairs later her heart began to beat so loudly, she was sure the sound must resound through the house like…why, like the boom of the supper gong that was even now being struck!
"Why, Sylvia, how lovely you look!" exclaimed Charity as Sylvia entered the dining room. "Doesn't she, Robert?"
"Indeed she does," responded Lord Farron. Sylvia was startled by his searching gaze. It was as if he was hoping for something from her…some word, some look…that she could not give. He came forward to lead her to her seat. Her small, white hand rested on his arm like a little bird.
She found it difficult to concentrate on her food. There was turtle soup and artichoke and trout and crushed fruit with meringue, but she could hardly tell one dish from the other. Her eyes kept straying to the figure of Lord Farron.
His had such a strong, intelligent face. There was a great deal of reserve in his manner, but also a latent power that thrilled Sylvia to the bone.
She felt he was like no other man she had ever met.
Lord Farron was talking about his recent visit to London on business.
"On my way back to King's Cross station, I dropped in at Culworth's Antiquarian bookshop," he said casually.
"It would have been more unusual if you had not dropped in at Culworth's," teased Charity. She turned to Sylvia. "I'm beginning to think there must be a Miss Culworth behind the dusty counter somewhere."
Sylvia gave a quick, unhappy smile.
"But there is!" said Lord Farron soberly. "She is the shape of a beehive and has whiskers on her chin. Alas, I can't get near her for admirers!"
Charity gave a merry laugh.
"Lord Farron," said Sylvia in a low voice, "you are…very interested in..the stars, I think?"
Lord Farron regarded her sharply. "I could imagine – no greater passion – until recently," he said, and looked away.
Charity looked startled. She gazed at her brother thoughtfully for a moment and then turned to Sylvia.
"You know that Lord Farron has a telescope on one of the tower roofs?" she reminded Sylvia.
"Yes. I remember you telling me," replied Sylvia. "It must be…wonderful…to see the stars in the sky at closer quarters."
"Indeed it is!" declared Charity. "And I'm sure Robert would be only too delighted to let you use his telescope."
Lord Farron inclined his head. "As soon as we have a cloudless night," he promised.
Sylvia found herself wishing vehemently that such a night would arrive soon.
The following morning she watched from her window as Lord Farron went for a ride. He looked very confident on his black stallion. He returned just before eleven. She heard him call to the stable boy to take his horse and felt herself blush at the sound of his voice.
A little while later Hattie knocked on the door and handed her a vase full of pink, dew-drenched roses. Sylvia gasped in delight.
"Who sent these?" she asked.
Hattie rocked from side and side, grinning. "They'se from the Master, miss."
"Lord…Farron?"
Hattie nodded and bobbed and went away with the grin still on her face.
Sylvia took the vase over to the fireplace and placed it on the mantelpiece. Glancing up as she arranged the roses to her liking, her eyes alighted on 'The Rape of Lucrece,' and she gave an involuntary shudder.
Why did that painting so disturb her, even when she was in such a contented mood as now?
She thanked Lord Farron profusely when s
he saw him at lunch. He bowed and said the flowers had come from the Farron rose garden, which was famous in the district. Their delicate colour, he added, had reminded him of her.
Sylvia's breath seemed to catch in her throat.
That afternoon Lord Farron drove Charity to town to procure provisions. Sylvia was supposed to rest but she found her mind swooping and soaring like a skylark. As soon as she heard the sound of the carriage wheels returning from the station, she leapt to her feet and ran downstairs.
Lord Farron turned to watch her as she descended the stairs. She did not know it, but her eyes were bright as stars and a delicate flush rose in her cheeks as her eyes met his.
Charity, who was removing her travelling coat, noticed the direction of her brother's gaze and gave a little half-smile to herself.
At supper Lord Farron informed the two young women that as the sky was very clear that night, he would like to invite them to view the stars.
The stairs to the tower were steep and slippery. It was a long and arduous climb. The last step before the summit was particularly deep and Lord Farron turned to help Sylvia. She felt dizzy at the touch of his hand.
From the tower roof one could see a faint gleam on the estuary water, but all else was in darkness.
Sylvia gasped when she looked through the telescope. She had never seen the stars so clearly. Lord Farron stood at her elbow, leaning down to her as he explained the night sky.
"There, to the north west, is Castor and Pollux, the twins of Gemini. Over there is the Plough. And you see that swathe of stars? That is the Milky Way."
"It is all so beautiful," breathed Sylvia.
Lord Farron watched her keenly. The name of another star was on his tongue – he seemed to hesitate a moment – and then he plunged on.
"That star there, to the east, you may be acquainted with already. It is called Arcturus – the Pathfinder."
Sylvia's head jerked up.
"Arcturus the Pathfinder…" she repeated. She looked from Lord Farron to the star and back to Lord Farron, all the while a puzzled little frown on her brow. Suddenly her eyes widened and her hands flew to her cheeks.
"It is you!" she breathed.
Lord Farron gave a deep bow, his eyes never leaving her face. "Yes. It is I!"
Bewildered, Sylvia looked from brother to sister.
"Have you known…all along?"
Lord Farron's voice was full of deep emotion as he spoke. "The night of the accident – it was very dark. You were in such a dishevelled state when I found you, all covered in mud, your hair loose around your face – that I simply did not recognise you. I carried you in great haste to the carriage and in great haste from the carriage to the house – but once you were ensconced in the room you now inhabit, I naturally left you to the ministrations of my sister. The next morning I was obliged to go to London. It was only when I encountered you two nights later – wandering in the corridor, that I recognised you. My sister had of course learned who you were by then. We decided not to tell you, but to see if the memory returned naturally."
Here Lord Farron hesitated, scanning Sylvia's face with great feeling. "I am most happy, madam," he added in a lower tone, "to discover that you had not forgotten me. For believe me, I had never forgotten you."
Sylvia felt faint. Every detail of that evening at Lady Lambourne's seemed now to rush in upon her. The ball…the garden…the gentleman in the mask kneeling to put on her satin shoe. Even more, she remembered how she had wished to see him again.
How little could she have imagined that her wish would come so spectacularly true!
*
Over the next few days Lord Farron spent every spare moment of his time with Sylvia. He and she read together, strolled in the garden together, played cards together. Charity, who was of course always with them, teased that she was cast aside for her brother and had merely the occupation of chaperone.
Doctor Glebe came every day to check on his patient. Lord Farron questioned him anxiously after each visit and was relieved to be told that the doctor was pleased with Sylvia's progress, although concerned that there were still such gaps in her memory about her accident.
Sylvia might have reflected more on that odd evening from the past, had she not been so happy in the present. If anyone – Lord Farron, Charity, the doctor – even gently encouraged her to try and remember, a strange, dark lassitude came over her. During such times she began to tell herself a story that fitted the events of that night.
She had stayed out too late – she had been caught out in the storm – she had sheltered somewhere – she had then made a mad dash for home, which resulted in being thrown from her horse.
Gradually this passed in her mind for the truth.
Eventually Doctor Glebe concluded that so many days had elapsed since the accident, it was now possible that Sylvia would never remember the details of that night.
The memory had sunk beyond retrieval.
This prognosis was relayed to the Duchess of Belham.
The Duchess, busy with preparations for the wedding, had not visited Farron Towers again although she had kept in contact by letter.
She had no idea of the burgeoning relations between her step-daughter and Lord Farron.
One morning Lord Farron had to go to the local town on business. Charity accompanied him. Sylvia said that she could perfectly well occupy herself alone until noon.
It was a warm and pleasant afternoon, so she took a book and went to seat herself in the orchard.
She was reading quietly in the sun when a figure appeared amidst the trees.
It was Count von Brauer.
He stood for a moment watching Sylvia, twirling the end of his moustache between thumb and forefinger.
Count von Brauer had been consumed with rage after the flight of Sylvia. If only he had succeeded in forcing himself upon her! Run as she might after that, she would have been his! She would have held her tongue out of shame and she would have married him as planned, because he would have rendered her unfit to marry anyone else!
He had realised from the first that he repulsed Sylvia. This troubled him not a jot. Such was his nature that he even derived pleasure from seeing her flinch with distaste before him. It had begun to dawn on him, however, that should her revulsion overcome her sense of duty, Sylvia might withdraw from the engagement. For reasons that he divulged to no-one, this would never do! There was too much at stake and he could not hurry the marriage without arousing suspicion. He had resolved therefore to entice Sylvia to Endecott and secure her to him by nefarious means.
Not for the first time, the fruit of the vine had ruined his plans. He had drunk too much and lost his advantage.
Certain that he would be summoned to Castle Belham to account for his behaviour, he had paced the corridors of Endecott endlessly. He was not sure of what to do. Should he pack his bags and leave? Or stay and brazen it out? Would there be any point to brazening it out? Surely, however he defended himself, there would be no question of a marriage now?
He was gulping down a glass of whiskey when he saw, through the window, the Belham coach roll up to Endecott.
He stiffened when the Duchess entered the drawing room but was then astonished when she offered him her hand to kiss. He listened in disbelief as, hardly stopping to draw breath, she recounted the details of her hurried visit that afternoon to Farron Towers.
At the end he fell back in his chair and stared at the Duchess.
"Amnesia?" he repeated in wonder.
"That's right," said the Duchess. "And very selective it is too."
She hesitated. The Count must eventually hear the details of that night and she wanted to plant an acceptable scenario into his head.
"The prevailing opinion is," she went on, "she got lost in the storm. She probably tried to shelter somewhere, in a barn or abandoned stable. She took the saddle off to rest her horse and removed her own cloak to dry it. Then something frightened her – an animal, most likely – and she took off again with disas
trous results."
The Count's moustache twitched with amusement as he grasped what the Duchess was up to.
"That is surely the explanation," he nodded gravely. He sighed. "If only she had thought of coming to me. I am not so far from the road where the accident occurred."
"Oh, if only she had," agreed the Duchess.
She did not remain long at Endecott. She wanted to return to Castle Belham before the Duke became too agitated. The Count walked her to her carriage and kissed her hand before she mounted.
"It is probably advisable for the moment," said the Duchess, "that you do not visit Sylvia. Better to let her regain her strength."
The Count watched her carriage leave and then walked back to the house in a daze. What unbelievable luck! Amnesia!
He was still in with a chance. Until, that is, Sylvia's memory of that night returned.
If it returned!
The Duchess's prescription that he not visit Sylvia until she regained her strength had at first suited him. Why appear and possibly jolt her memory? Better to wait and see.
Then, this very morning, he received the message from the Duchess informing him that Doctor Glebe believed Sylvia was now unlikely to remember more than she already had.
It was time to reclaim his fiancée!
He had saddled his horse and ridden over to Farron Towers. Hoping on such a fine day to find Sylvia somewhere outside – and on her own – he had tethered his horse beyond the gates and walked into the estate, keeping to the shade of the trees. Circling the house carefully, he had glimpsed her sitting in the orchard. Alone! Luck was with him all right!
It was at this point that Sylvia looked up from her book and espied him there. She shaded her eyes with her free hand, trying to discern who this unfamiliar figure might be.
Count von Brauer came jauntily down the path and bowed.
"Good-morning, madam," he said.
"G..good morning," replied Sylvia.
The Count whistled a little as he regarded her. Sylvia glanced quickly around, suddenly uneasy.
"You don't know me then?" asked the Count.
"N..no, sir. I don't."
"Or rather, let's say, you don't recognise me?"
Sylvia paled. "Do you mean…I should know you?"
Stars in the Sky Page 8
