Temia played fluidly with a refined elegance that had often been commented on when she was in Paris. She loved music and enjoyed playing the very fine grand piano that had once been her grandmother’s. She played as if she had not a care in the world, little realising that her nice comfortable life was soon to change dramatically.
*
“Miss, please keep still or else I’ll never get your hair right!”
Sarah was indignant that Temia appeared unable to stop moving her head while she was pulling her hair into an elaborate style.
At last she put the final pin in the back and Temia was ready.
“Very good, Sarah,” exclaimed Temia, admiring her reflection. It did not matter to her one jot that there was no one to impress with her fine looks apart from her parents – she had learned in Paris that one should always look one’s best at all times and in all places.
The gong sounded and she was now quite hungry as she had not eaten much at luncheon.
The blue satin of her gown matched the colour of her eyes perfectly and the sapphire brooch on her bosom added a pleasing touch.
Her Mama was already in the dining room when she entered and was in conversation with Ridley.
“Ah, Temia, dearest. Papa is keeping us waiting, I am afraid.”
“Where is he?”
“In the drawing room entertaining our guest.”
Temia looked startled. “I did not realise that we were expecting one,” she murmured, taking a seat. She was about to enquire as to who it might be, when her father came in to the room – with Lord Alphonse close behind him.
“Miss Brandon, may I say how delightful you look this evening?” he began, as his eyes raked up and down her frame like a hungry wolf eyeing its prey.
“Lord Alphonse,” she replied, stiffening a little. She stared at her father, who did not meet her eye.
‘So, this was Papa’s doing,’ she thought, feeling utterly betrayed as, far from discouraging Lord Alphonse’s attentions, he now sought to endorse them by inviting him to dine with them!
‘How could he?’ she fumed, feeling a lump rising in her throat. She was so upset it quite ruined her appetite.
Lord Alphonse sat next to her, staring at her all the way through dinner.
“You are not eating, Miss Brandon,” he remarked, as yet another full plate of food was taken away.
“I am feeling rather unwell,” she replied, as politely as she could. “Papa, might I retire?”
“I would prefer that you remain at the table until the meal is over, Temia,” he answered her sternly.
She had a terrible idea that after dinner she would have to endure another proposal from Lord Alphonse.
‘Why does Papa not pay attention to my wishes? He has never before attempted to push me into finding a husband and I have only just returned home – so why is he doing this?’
She managed to eat most of her apple tart and made her coffee last for as long as possible. Finally, her parents looking at each other in a knowing fashion, rose from their chairs and excused themselves.
“Temia,” said her father a little awkwardly. “We shall leave you two alone for a while and take our coffee into the drawing room.”
Before Temia could open her mouth to protest, they had both withdrawn and closed the door behind them.
She then heard Lord Alphonse cough to gain her attention and reluctantly, she turned to face him.
“Temia – I may call you that, may I not? I have asked you twice now to marry me and both times you have refused me. But this time, when I ask you, I want you to carefully consider your response.”
Taking a small box out of his pocket, he opened it to reveal a magnificent sapphire and diamond engagement ring.
Temia could not help but let out a gasp. It was lovely and a superb piece of craftsmanship. She knew at once that it must have cost a fortune and yet nothing would persuade her to sell herself for just a trinket.
Lord Alphonse then went down on one knee before her and took her left hand in his.
“Temia, I ask you once more, will you marry me?”
She could not take her eyes off the glittering ring he held in his fingers. Its beauty was so amazing and, from another man, she would have wept with joy to receive it.
She took a deep breath and shook her head firmly, “I am sorry, Lord Alphonse, but I have no wish to – marry.”
As her last words died away, Lord Alphonse’s face changed. A cruel gleam came into his eyes and he refused to let go of her hand, grasping her even more tightly.
“You are hurting me,” she cried trying to stay calm.
“And is that your final word?”
“I shall not change my mind,” she answered him, looking down at the floor.
In a gesture that took her breath away for its sheer brutality, Lord Alphonse rammed the ring onto her third finger and held it fast. Tears sprang into her eyes. “My dear,” he said in a voice like ice, “you have no choice in the matter. This afternoon your father agreed to our engagement and early wedding. It is all settled and you shall be my wife before the month is out.”
“No!” screamed Temia, wrenching her hand away and standing up. “Never! Papa would never agree to it.”
As she ran out of the room, she heard him laugh.
“Go, run to your Papa! He will tell you the same thing – that today he promised you to me.”
Temia then burst into the drawing room to find her Mama in tears by the fire and her Papa standing with his back to her by the window. There was a strained atmosphere in the room and she was shocked that her father was ignoring her Mama in such a cold manner.
“Papa? Is it true what Lord Alphonse says?” she screamed, trying to pull the tight ring off her finger.
“It is.”
“But how could you? You know I have no wish to marry him and yet you agreed? Why? Why?”
Lady Brandon looked up and dabbed her eyes.
“You must tell her now, Arthur. She deserves an explanation.”
Temia stared wildly at her father. She suddenly no longer recognised the once benign man she called her Papa since she could talk. This stranger who stood before her, so cold and unfeeling – he was not her father!
“Tell me what, Mama?”
Lady Brandon sobbed and Temia had never seen her mother display such naked emotion since the day they had received word of her brother’s death.
“Temia.” Her Papa cleared his throat awkwardly. “The reason I have agreed to this marriage is that Lord Alphonse has made it clear that unless it proceeds, he will reveal a rather unsavoury episode from my past.”
“He is attempting to blackmail you? Papa, whatever it is, can we not rise above it?”
Her father shook his head dejectedly.
“No. We cannot. You will marry Lord Alphonse.”
Temia drew herself up to her full height. How could she make her feelings known without appearing disrespectful to her father?
“So, you have agreed to hand me over like a mare to a stud?” she whispered, daring him to meet her gaze. “What is it, this secret that is so terrible that you would sacrifice the happiness of your only surviving child?”
Lady Brandon’s sobs rent the air. “Arthur, tell her!” she exhorted.
“Georgiana alluded to something when I saw her in London,” asserted Temia bravely. “I think I am now old enough to know the truth, however distasteful it might be. Perhaps then, I can begin to understand.”
Sir Arthur’s own eyes were clouded with tears, as he stared into the middle distance. His jaw worked and his mouth was thin and tight.
“Before I married your Mama – I was young and foolish. I was involved with a dancer and a child was born. Lord Alphonse discovered this secret and is threatening to ruin my reputation with it. He has been blackmailing me for months and taking horses from me without payment. “If he cannot have you, then he will ensure that we will have no place in polite Society and we shall have to sell up everything and move to Scotland or
Ireland, where people will not know us. “Temia – I am too old to start my life – anew!”
His voice nearly broke on the last word and, almost collapsing, he sat down in a chair near the fire and took his wife’s hand.
Temia stared at her parents in horror. To think that the great family secret was this!
“And the child? Did he or she live?”
“I believe so, but the mother was paid off and I never saw her again.”
“So,” stammered Temia, the gravity of her situation sinking home. “I have a half-brother or sister out there? Would you have told me had this situation not arisen?”
Sir Arthur shook his head.
“Probably not, dearest. I don’t even know if she grew to adulthood.”
“She? I have a half-sister! And the mother?”
“We just don’t know where she is or if she is still alive,” interrupted Lady Brandon. “Temia, the only way to keep this dreadful matter secret is for you to marry him.”
“But I cannot!” she protested.
“For the love of God, Temia. If you honour me and love me as you should, you will!”
The tone in his voice was little short of desperate, but there was no mistaking his absolute determination.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Temia fled from the room and ran upstairs. Locking her bedroom door, she threw herself on the bed and sobbed into the pillows.
Her finger throbbed from the effort of trying to take off the dreaded ring, but the more she had pulled, the more her finger swelled, making it impossible to budge it.
‘I must be calm and I must think,’ she told herself, drying her tears on a handkerchief.
‘I would rather die than marry that man. It would not be such a bad thing if we moved away to Scotland – I would not care! At least we could be together as a family.’
But she knew that her Mama would not cope so far away from her friends and had her Papa not said that he could not face the prospect?
‘If I am to avoid marriage to that odious man, then there is only one course of action,’ she determined.
The two years she had spent in France had made her a very independent young woman and she did not fear being on her own and indeed positively thrived on it.
‘I am not too young to start anew,’ she sighed to herself, coming to a decision. And, so, if I remove myself from the equation, then surely Lord Alphonse will leave Papa alone? I could become a Governess and make my own way in the world. I could teach French and music – ’ The more she thought about it, the more viable it appeared to her.
‘I could stay in London with Georgiana and swear her to secrecy until I find a post. It should not be difficult. Perhaps I shall go abroad and as far away from that hateful man as possible.
‘Yes,’ she concluded at last. ‘If I simply disappear, then Lord Alphonse cannot force Papa’s hand. It would be best for everyone if I run away!’
With her mind made up, Temia then began to plot her escape from Bovendon Hall.
That very night!
CHAPTER FOUR
Now that her mind was made up, Temia did not hesitate. She then packed herself a small suitcase, taking just enough clothes with her to last a week or so. After applying a great deal of soap, she managed to prise the hated ring from her finger and left it, together with a note to her parents, with a PS that read,
“Please return this ring to Lord Alphonse.” With everything now in place, she then undressed and climbed into bed.
She found it hard to sleep, but managed to snatch a few hours, waking in the hour before dawn.
Temia guessed that none of the servants would be up, but she hoped that Robert would be stirring, as without his help she could not carry out her plan.
She crept downstairs and let herself out through the French windows. The sun was just about beginning to rise. She knew that the first train out of Northampton Station left quite early. And she intended to be on it!
She could see that an oil lamp was burning in one of the stalls as she approached the stable block. ‘I do hope that’s Robert and not one of the stable boys,’ she murmured, as she hurried towards the light.
“Now, what in God’s name be you doin’ up at this hour, miss?”
She heaved a sigh of relief, as Robert came towards her with a bucket of water in one hand.
“Robert, I need your help,” she began simply.
“Well, if I can be of any service – ” he answered in a way that was more of a question than an answer.
“I need to go to Northampton Station at once!”
“At once? What’s the ‘urry, miss?”
“I wish to catch the first train.”
“Does the Master know about this?”
Temia looked down at the hay on the floor. She wrung her hands together – how much could she confide in him?
“I have an early appointment in London. Now, will you take me or must I drive myself and let the brougham come back on its own?”
Robert clucked his tongue as if weighing it up. “Very good, miss.”
“And there is a suitcase to fetch from my room.” As Robert made his way across the courtyard to the main house, she congratulated herself for giving a plausible reason so fast and she was counting on her lack of luggage not arousing his suspicions. The minutes ticked by agonisingly. The sun was by now casting thin beams across the courtyard and she could hear the horses beginning to stir in their stalls. One of the stable boys ran across the yard and, seeing her, doffed his cap.
Temia froze and wished that Robert would hurry.
So she was flooded with relief when he came into sight with the case in his hand.
Robert ordered the stable boy to hitch up the small buggy and put her case into the rear compartment.
“You’ll have to sit on the box with me, miss.”
“That will be quite all right, Robert,” she answered, wrapping her cloak around her, “but can we leave at once? The Station is some miles off and the train leaves at six.”
Robert grunted, helped Temia up onto the box and then climbed up next to her.
As they drove off, Temia did not look behind her. She knew that if she did, she would surely cry.
She was relieved when, just over an hour later, they finally drew up outside the Station. She thanked Robert profusely and then, with a tear in her eye, waved him goodbye.
As she bought her ticket, her heart beat so wildly it took her breath away.
‘London!’ she muttered to herself. ‘A new life!’
*
Temia always felt a thrill of excitement whenever she visited London and today was no exception. The Hackney cab she hired at Euston Station made its way through the crowded streets and, once again, she was struck by the smells and sounds of the Capital.
‘Even though London is dirty and noisy, it’s still a really wonderful place to be!’ she thought, as the cab made laborious progress through the traffic.
At last they arrived at Campden Hill Road. ‘I do hope that Aunt Marianne and Georgiana are at home,’ she said to herself, as she rang the doorbell. ‘It’s strange that Bob’s not barking.’ After what felt like an age, the door opened and there stood, not the butler, but an unfamiliar maid.
“Is my aunt at home?” she asked nervously.
“I’m afraid not, Miss – ”
“Brandon. And my cousin, Georgiana?”
“Both gone away, Miss Brandon. They left on a whim last night. Gone to Brighton for the sea air.”
Temia stood still, her mind whirling. She had not anticipated this. “I don’t know when they’ll be back. They could be gone a few days or a few weeks, they didn’t say.” “Thank you,” said Temia faintly. She turned back to the cab, thankful she had not sent it away as how else could she have managed her case?
“If you needs lodgings, my sister runs a genteel boarding house for young ladies of your class,” suggested the driver. “It be on the other side of the High Street.”
“Yes, thank you. I would be mo
st grateful,” replied Temia, almost not thinking what she was doing.
The lodgings house was as the driver had described it – clean, neat and comfortable. She paid the woman in advance for one night and then went straight out again.
As she walked to the crossroads, she saw the Royal Kent Theatre. How different it seemed in the daytime!
Wandering round to the side, she noticed that a set of the theatre’s double doors was open.
‘How intriguing!’ she muttered to herself, suddenly feeling the spirit of adventure rise in her again.
She quickly looked to see if anyone was about and then she slipped inside the door. Almost at once, she found herself in a pale-cream corridor that smelled musty and strange and she followed it along to another set of doors.
From a distance she could hear the sound of a lone piano playing and a man’s voice barking out orders.
‘Rehearsals,’ she thought excitedly, slowly pushing open the heavy mahogany door.
She had never seen the inside of a theatre during the daytime before and her first impression was how faded the drapes and trimmings on the boxes appeared. On the stage half a dozen girls were going through their paces, wearing scandalously short dresses that only just covered their knees. Underneath they wore thick black stockings and flat slippers. “One-two-three, step!” shouted the man from the front of the stalls. He was in his mid-forties and sported long whiskers that stuck out either side of his ruddy face. He appeared to be the Director and was remonstrating with the dancers that they were not working hard enough.
“I want this new Woodland Nymph Dance included this weekend – not next year!” he bellowed. “Now, try it again and put your backs into it!”
The piano struck up again and the dancers whirled and twirled, kicking their legs in unison. Temia thought the dance was lively enough, but the scenery behind them was dull and unattractive.
‘I used to paint much better work than that in my art class in Paris,’ she reflected. ‘And my woodland scene for the end-of-term concert was far superior to theirs.’
They Touched Heaven Page 5
