“Perhaps you will tell me then,” he added.
“And perhaps not,” she said, looking at him evenly. “We had better not ask each other too many questions, my Lord”.
“Again you are right. We are both taking a step into the unknown and we each have our reasons for doing so. You must keep your secret and I will keep mine.”
He hesitated before adding,
“Yet some day we will find it impossible not to tell each other what we are thinking and what we are feeling, as we leave England behind and start on a journey into a new and unknown venture. It may of course not be as successful as we hope it will be.”
“It has to be successful,” Shona exclaimed emphatically.
“You say that very intensely. Is it that important to you?”
“Yes, it is that important,” she responded fervently. “When we leave these shores, all the difficulties, the troubles and the questions we do not want to answer will be left behind.
“Just as you have some secret purpose, so do I. I will not ask you any difficult questions and I do not want you to ask me any. I will only say that I am running from danger, but also seeking something – just as you are.”
The Marquis stared at her.
Then he asked sharply, “How on earth do you know that?”
Startled by the look on his face she faltered,
“Why, I – I meant your book. You must be seeking many things to write about.”
“You meant more than that. How on earth did you know that I – ?”
“I know nothing,” she said hurriedly. “I was talking generally.”
The look in his eyes told her that he was not fooled, but to her great relief he let the matter drop.
Shona wondered what had possessed her to speak in such a way. She had dismissed Lionel’s strange words as meaningless. Or at least, she tried to believe that she had.
Yet still they troubled her.
“I am not certain that he has admitted, even to himself, what he really means to do – he won’t know until the very last minute – ”
What had Lionel meant? And did it have anything to do with that tense look that had come over the Marquis’s face?
She would have given a lot to know the answer.
*
From Dover Station it was a short carriage journey to where the Marquis’s yacht was berthed. Shona looked eagerly out of the window, rejoicing at the sight of the sea.
“How beautiful it is in the sunshine!” she exclaimed.
“You love the sea?” he asked. “Do you know it well?”
“I have always loved it,” Shona replied. “I went on my first voyage with my father when I was only five.”
She sighed with happy memories.
“I remember how excited I was and how I thought the ship was so perfect, and so different from anything I had known before, that it must have come down from Heaven itself.”
“I only hope you will think the same about my yacht,” the Marquis said. “I designed it myself and I feel very comfortable in it.”
“And that is most important,” Shona agreed.
Soon his yacht came into sight. It was beautiful and well-appointed, and looked, as he had promised, very comfortable.
The Captain had everything ready for them. Their bags were carried on board and Shona and Effie were shown to the cabin they were to share.
It was large and luxuriously decorated with two narrow but comfortable beds. As they unpacked their bags Shona felt inwardly tense, waiting for the moment when they would cast off and she could begin to feel safe.
And then it happened.
There were cries from the sailors on deck, the clank of chains, the whistle blowing and they began to move.
Only when she felt the waves and heard their splash against the yacht, did she realise that they were leaving England and her problems behind and being carried safely into the English Channel.
‘I am now free,’ she thought.
She felt too excited to stay in the cabin and hurried up on deck, to stand by the rail, watching the white cliffs of Dover recede.
“What are you thinking?” asked a voice unexpectedly beside her.
It was the Marquis. She had been so absorbed that she had not noticed him join her.
“I am thinking that I am free and that this is the most exciting adventure that has happened to me for a very long time. I think your yacht is perfect”
“Good. That was how I intended people to feel when I designed her. The builders thought I was slightly mad and argued with me, saying that what I wanted was impossible.”
“But of course you got your own way,” Shona said. “I suppose you always do.”
“Not always,” he replied, suddenly sombre. “No matter how rich and powerful a man thinks he is, he can suddenly find himself helpless in the hands of a cruel fate. And then everything that he thought would make him invincible turns out to be just an illusion.”
Shona stared.
“I do not understand.”
“No matter,” he said, recovering himself with an effort. “You were not really meant to.”
Something drove her to persist.
“But how can I be a useful secretary if I don’t understand?”
“I will tell you as much as I can about myself, but some things must remain hidden,” he dropped his voice, “not only from your eyes, but from the world’s.”
He saw her watching him with a little frown and said sharply,
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“I – I don’t know what you mean?” she stammered.
“Like what?”
“As though you would look into my soul,” he said, sounding strangely quiet and yet forceful at the same time.
“I am sorry,” she said quickly, turning away. “I did not mean to pry.”
“There are times when you must not ask me questions,” he said, in the same tone of voice. “There are things that I forbid you to ask. You will learn soon enough what they are.
“Do not rouse me to anger. I warn you, never, never do that. It is more than I can bear.”
Shona looked at him in astonishment.
Why should his own anger be more than he could bear?
But already she partly knew the answer. Standing so close to him by the rail she could feel the strong feelings radiating from him. They were powerful, almost violent, as though their very strength might tear him apart.
“Forgive me,” she said gently, laying her hand on his arm.
Then she found strange words coming from her heart.
“Trust me. I will never do anything to hurt you.”
There was relief in his eyes as he laid his hand over hers.
“I do trust you,” he said. “I do not know why I should, after such a short acquaintance. But something tells me that I can put my faith in you.”
Shona trembled at the sensation of his fingers holding hers, and felt the steely power in his hands.
They were the hands of an aristocrat, manicured, almost artistic, with long, slender fingers that spoke of ease and elegance.
But there was something else, something that was neither artistic nor cultured. Beneath his soft voice and fine clothes, this man was utterly ruthless and as dangerous as a wild animal.
Then he released her and the sensation passed. She might have imagined it.
But she knew better. What she had felt in those few blinding moments had been no imagination.
This was indeed a haunted man – haunted by secrets that he could tell nobody.
She had thought she was merely taking a trip across Europe.
Now she knew that she had stepped out into the unknown.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Now let me show you the rest of the yacht,” the Marquis offered, leading the way.
Together they went below. Shona was not surprised to find that here was a very comfortable sitting room, which the Marquis told her was where they would work.
It was spacious and ai
ry with several bookshelves. By the porthole was a desk, which she hoped would be hers.
Almost as if she had asked the question aloud, the Marquis said,
“That is for you. It is here you will write down the words of wisdom which I hope will fall from my lips. You will also sit here to transcribe the notes you will take when we are exploring together.”
“And there’s a typewriter!” Shona exclaimed in great excitement. “I have heard of these marvellous machines, but have never seen one before.”
The typewriter was an American invention and had caused a great deal of excitement and publicity all over the world.
The machine had been introduced into England a year or two earlier.
“It was given to me by an American friend,” the Marquis told her. “He said it was the very latest model straight from the factory.”
“This will be a great deal easier than having to write everything down,” Shona said. “I am certain that, rather like playing the piano, I will soon learn to use it quickly.”
It was ugly and when she touched the keys she found it very noisy. Nonetheless, she felt a thrill at using the most modern machine that she had ever known. It was like touching the future.
“Have you planned the route, yet?” she asked, sitting at her desk and exploring the drawers. “Are we exploring new cities or returning to the places you have seen before?”
“We start at Calais,” he replied, “which is a place which I have already visited. “We will dock there tonight and sleep onboard. Tomorrow – well, we will let tomorrow take care of itself.”
“It depends on what we find in Calais,” Shona agreed. “Think how many more people are travelling now that we have railways! What must life have been like before they were invented? People could not go from place to place nearly as easily as they can now. And the new travellers will all be waiting to read your book.
“So I think you need to be practical and explain places like ports and railway stations, for some of them will never have travelled before.”
The Marquis smiled.
“You are having some very good ideas. How was I so lucky as to find you?”
“I think I found you,” she answered gently. “When I heard that you wanted someone like me, it was like receiving a message from Heaven itself, and I merely followed what I was told to do.”
“Your problem must be a very serious one for you to think like that,” he said gravely.
“Yes, it is.”
For a moment she thought he was going to ask her more questions, but he only said,
“Perhaps you would like to return to your cabin now. We will be having dinner soon and I shall look forward to seeing Miss Jakes.”
Effie was understandably nervous about dining with the Marquis, but Shona promised to look after her. Effie’s confidence was raised by the sight of herself looking delightful in an elegant blue gown belonging to Shona.
In keeping with her character, Shona decided to wear a plain dark dress for dinner, with a cameo at the throat as the only decoration.
When she had scraped her hair back severely and set the pince nez on her nose, she was ready to make her appearance.
She felt a pang at not being able to look her best, especially when she saw the Marquis, elegantly attired in his dinner jacket.
She had a sudden vision of how well they could have looked together. She wondered if he would have admired her, if she looked as she usually did, and found that it was important to her to know.
The ship was just docking at Calais as they went up on deck together. The three of them stood by the rail, watching the routine, the sailors scurrying back and forth.
“I have always loved this part,” Shona sighed. “The whole adventure stretches before us and who knows what will happen next?”
“You must have sailed into many ports with your husband,” the Marquis observed. “Did he share your excitement?”
“Oh yes,” Shona answered, thinking of dear Papa. “We would stand by the rail together and he would point things out, so that I missed nothing. He always had something new and interesting to say.”
Her eyes shone with the memory. Then her happiness was followed by a moment’s sadness as she thought how those days were gone forever.
The Marquis watched her, reading her expression with tolerable accuracy and wondering what sort of man her husband had been to inspire such devotion.
She had assumed her severe look again, but he could not forget the brief glimpse he had seen of her glorious hair, falling about her shoulders.
Her pince nez, too, had been missing, revealing her face to be young and beautiful.
But she had seized the first chance to hide herself again. It was as though she was telling the world that she was no longer a woman and cared nothing for the admiration of men, because all love was dead for her.
This was something he understood.
All love was dead for him too.
But surely, reasoned a voice inside him that he could not silence, she was too young to make such a bleak resolution? Then he remembered the day when he had realised that in future his life must be lived without love, without warmth and without hope.
It had been exactly twelve years, four months, two weeks and three days ago.
On that day everything had stopped for him, so he felt he understood Shona’s feelings now.
The steward came to say that dinner was served and the Marquis led the two ladies below to the dining room.
It was as elegantly appointed as any dining room on land could possibly have been. Waiters appeared, serving wine.
Effie was wide-eyed at the prospect of a treat that did not normally come her way. At the same time, she was on hot coals lest she make some kind of slip.
To assist her, Shona did most of the talking, chattering about the forthcoming book and encouraging the Marquis to talk about it.
Effie finally summoned up the courage to address a question to her host.
“Have you written a book before?” she asked politely.
“I have written articles on hunting and shooting,” he told her. “I wrote them anonymously and several people mentioned how good they were, which encouraged me. Eventually I determined to write a travel book about the places I had visited and to try to show them in a new light. Do you enjoy travelling, Miss Jakes?”
“Oh, yes, very much,” she answered with perfect truth. As Shona’s maid she had often accompanied her on her journeys with her father.
“Where have you been?”
Sensing danger Shona said quickly, “Effie and I have been friends for a long time. She has often travelled with me.”
“On the journeys that you took with your husband?”
Effie was looking nervous, sensing that the ground might open beneath her feet at any moment.
And then something happened that drove everything else from their minds.
From deep in the ship came a shout. Then another shout in a different voice.
There was the thunder of agitated footsteps, and somebody roared,
“Let go of me!”
The Marquis rose to his feet, his brow darkened.
“I do not believe what I am hearing,” he said slowly. “Surely this is impossible – ”
The next moment the door burst open and the Captain could be seen struggling with the figure of a young man.
“A stowaway, my Lord,” he said breathlessly. “I have only just caught him.”
“Get your hands off my collar,” roared his victim, struggling mightily.
“Let him go,” the Marquis ordered in a disgruntled voice.
“He may be a desperate character,” the Captain puffed.
“He is a desperate character,” the Marquis snapped. “He is also, unfortunately, a relative of mine. Damn you, Lionel! What do you think you are doing here?”
A transformation had come over the Marquis. His voice was savage, his face contorted and he seemed possessed by fury.
Nothing else, Shona
was certain, would have made him swear in front of the ladies.
The Honourable Lionel Hilton finally managed to free himself from the Captain’s hold and stand upright. The struggle had left him dishevelled but still belligerent.
“I just hopped aboard,” Lionel admitted with an attempt at insouciance. “I thought you might have some use for me.”
“You thought no such thing,” the Marquis raged. “I told you I did not want you on this voyage, and I still don’t. You have no right to disobey me and if you thought to persuade me by these methods, you know nothing about me.”
“But I can be so useful to you.”
“As what?” the Marquis demanded scathingly. “A cabin boy? You are useless. You will come no further with me. You will take a passage on the first boat back to England.”
“I haven’t any money.”
“I will pay your passage,” the Marquis snapped savagely. “Just get out of my sight and stay out. Otherwise I’ll toss you overboard.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” Lionel responded in a wheedling voice. “Think of the scandal. I am your heir, after all.”
“Yes, you are, Heaven help me! I mean what I say. You will go back to England tomorrow.”
“Actually that might be a bit difficult – the thing is, I need to be absent for a while, if you know what I mean.”
“You owe money I suppose?” the Marquis asked in disgust.
He ran his hand through his hair. He was seemingly calmer now. Shona could sense that his anger still seethed, but he was restraining himself.
But why? she wondered. Why such anger just because the silly boy had played a prank? “We will talk again tomorrow,” he said wearily.
“Of course, of course,” Lionel replied. “I will just put my things in the Neptune cabin – “
“That is already occupied by my secretary and her companion. By the way, Miss Jakes, allow me the dubious pleasure of presenting my nephew, the Honourable Lionel Hilton.”
Lionel had already fixed his eyes on Effie with blatant admiration.
“Your servant, ma’am,” he said, taking her hand and bowing low over it.
The word ‘servant’ was an unfortunate choice as it reminded Effie of the reality of her situation and made her blush. But the blush only made her prettier.
“Behave yourself,” the Marquis adjured him sharply. “These ladies are under my protection. Neither one of them would have boarded this ship had they known you were to be here.
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