Hiding from Love

by Barbara Cartland

  Then Mr. Chandos, in one move, crushed her to his chest. His strength flowed into her and suddenly there seemed only air beneath her feet.

  It was ecstasy to be in his arms!

  There were but three musicians, yet it seemed as if a whole orchestra was playing.

  Her heart swelled with joy.

  The neglect she had felt at his hands was forgotten.

  His espousal of Desirée was forgotten.

  For this moment he was hers and hers alone.

  His arm now encircled her waist, his fingers entwined in her fingers.

  She began to lose all sense of time and place.

  It was almost as if she was back at Broughton Hall all those weeks ago in the arms of the masked stranger, so similar was the sensation.

  She did not dare raise her face, as she was sure her features would reveal her emotions.

  And she could have sworn that Mr. Chandos was not unmoved himself as his hold tightened by the minute.

  His lips brushed her temples and she felt his breath on her hair.

  “Look at me,” he whispered.

  Leonora lowered her head still further.

  “No, look at me.”

  Lips trembling, she slowly lifted her head.

  His eyes could have scorched her skin, so intense was his scrutiny!

  They almost stopped dancing and just stood there, swaying, locked in this mutual and burning gaze.

  “Miss Cressy!”

  The voice that intruded was all too familiar.

  Mr. Chandos loosened his hold as Leonora turned a dazed face to Mrs. Griddle’s tart expression.

  “I am sure, Miss Cressy, that Mr. Chandos has no desire to keep you from the company of your actual escort for this evening, Señor de Guarda here.”

  The Señor regarded Leonora wryly.

  “Here is me, Miss Cressy,” he said, pulling a long face. “Abandoned – after all our little intimacies.”

  Mr. Chandos visibly whitened as he stepped back, his hands tightening at his side.

  Leonora repressed a cry of despair.

  The spell was broken and broken so cruelly. How could she explain that Señor de Guarda had no claims on her at all, had never received any encouragement from her, and had no hold on her whatsoever?

  She threw a beseeching glance at Mr. Chandos, but he would not look at her.

  “Excuse me, Señor de Guarda, I return Miss Cressy to your protection,” he mouthed stiffly.

  Mrs. Griddle gave a victorious smirk as he bowed and moved away.

  “I expect an announcement at any time,” she said to Leonora. “Look he is going straight to my daughter now.”

  Leonora followed her gaze numbly.

  Yes, Mr. Chandos was bowing to Desirée and he was drawing her onto the floor, his lips at her ear just as they had been at hers but a short while before.

  Mrs. Griddle turned to cast a last triumphant glance at Leonora and it was in that second that Desirée quickly took a folded note out of her purse and slipped it into Mr. Chandos’s hand.

  Leonora could not believe her eyes.

  What kind of man was Mr. Chandos? To enflame her emotions as he undoubtedly had during their dance, but then a moment later accept what was most certainly a billet-doux from another young lady?

  It was that billet-doux in her gold purse that had so obviously agitated Desirée all evening!

  She felt a glass thrust into her hand.

  “Drink up, Miss Cressy,” urged Señor de Guarda.

  “Yes, drink up,” echoed Mrs. Griddle as she moved away. “I’m sure it’s an habitual occupation for you.”

  Leonora gasped aloud.

  She was so distracted by this casual insult that she forgot the part Señor de Guarda had played in destroying her character in front of Mr. Chandos.

  “Don’t mind,” the Señor was saying now as he put his hand under Leonora’s and guided the drink to her lips.

  “You will see, this will lift your spirits. For you are a little cast down, I think.”

  Leonora gave a strangled laugh.

  “Yes, I am a little cast down!”

  “Well, then. Drink.”

  ‘I will drink,’ thought Leonora. ‘I will drink till my heart feels warm and carefree and then I won’t care for Mr. Chandos or anyone else.’

  In this spirit she downed the glass and then sent Señor de Guarda for another.

  She wanted Mr. Chandos to see that she was quite capable of enjoying herself whether she was the focus of his attention or not.

  But Mr. Chandos was now nowhere to be seen and in trepidation, Leonora looked for Desirée.

  Had she disappeared too?

  No, Desirée was sitting where she had sat for most of the evening – on the settle, purse clasped in her lap.

  The third glass of punch did not bring the desired effect and Leonora’s heart felt no more warm or carefree than before, whilst the Señor plied her with yet another.

  When her head started swimming, he gripped her elbow and steered her quickly towards the door, advocating a dose of fresh air.

  Leonora found herself propelled to the upper deck.

  She stood blinking in the bright moonlight, while he made sure that the door that led below was fast closed.

  Leonora craned her neck and gazed up at the sky. Stars hung like dim pearls in the inky darkness.

  She forgot all about Señor de Guarda.

  From the salon strains of music wafted to her ears and she imagined she was still in the arms of Mr. Chandos.

  Slowly she began to turn as if she was dancing, her arms held out at either side for balance. As she turned, her eyes passed over the shadows below the giant funnel and she could have sworn there was a figure there, watching.

  A figure that stepped immediately back.

  She did not stop to wonder who it was, but turned again, head thrown back, her slender white neck exposed.

  Señor de Guarda lurched towards her and then sank to his knees.

  “My blood, but you’re beautiful!”

  Leonora, halted in her solitary dance, stared down as he grasped her hand and brought it to his lips.

  “How I have waited – ” he groaned.

  Disliking the feel of his kiss on her skin, Leonora tried to draw her hand away, but his grip tightened.

  She winced, feeling that he was crushing her bones.

  “Don’t!”

  In answer he dropped her hand and flung his arms around her skirts instead.

  Leonora pressed a hand to her forehead.

  “Don’t!” she pleaded again.

  Señor de Guarda gave a snarl.

  “It is time, señorita, to bestow your favours on me! Remember I know enough to undo you.”

  With horror Leonora felt his hand grasp her ankle and begin to slide up along her calf.

  A figure stepped from the shadows with a roar.

  “You are a cowardly dog, sir!”

  She had no time to wonder at hearing the voice of Mr. Chandos, as the Señor thrust her from him cursing.

  She stumbled back – reached for the rail – missed it and fell.

  Striking her head on the deck, she knew no more.

  *

  She felt as if she was swimming upwards through murky water. All around her was dark, but there above her a faint light flickered and she struggled towards it.

  Then a dark shape seemed to come between her and the light and she felt a hand on her forehead and wondered how that was possible.

  Was there someone else with her in these depths?

  Now she felt something damp placed on her brow.

  “Leonora?” she heard a voice murmur.

  She blinked back into focus and turning, she stared straight into the anxious eyes of Desirée Griddle.

  “Thank Heavens! You have been unconscious for some time.”

  ‘Unconscious!’ thought Leonora. She gave a groan as the memory of what had occurred on the deck flooded through her.

  Now everyone would know
what a fool she was!

  Raising a hand, she felt her forehead. Yes, there on the right was a large bump, tender to the touch. Her whole head still throbbed somewhat.

  She wondered if Desirée had witnessed Señor de Guarda’s improprieties.

  Had there been two figures in the shadows?

  She scanned Desirée’s face for a hint of scorn, but found nothing to show that she thought any the less of her than before.

  She must, however, make sure.

  “W-what happened?” she asked tentatively.

  “Mr. Chandos found you lying on deck. You must have fainted and hit your head as you fell.”

  Leonora turned quickly away to hide her relief as another thought struck her,

  “H-how did I get back here to my cabin?”

  Desirée leaned forward to straighten the wet flannel on Leonora’s brow.

  “Mr. Chandos carried you down.”

  Carried her! Leonora’s head swam. She had been in his arms, clutched to his breast and had not known it!

  If only she had regained consciousness enough to feel, if just for a moment, the beat of his heart close to hers.

  Yet if he had carried her down, he had not stayed to tend her. He had rather left her to the ministrations of her rival, a fact she suddenly resented.

  “How did you come to be here?” she asked Desirée narrowly.

  “Mr. Chandos sent Finny to fetch me. He didn’t want Mama or any of the other passengers to know what had happened, particularly as Mama is liable to become hysterical at the slightest opportunity.

  “Mr. Chandos knew that I would be the best person to attend you,” Desirée added with an air of such innocence that Leonora was quite thrown.

  She seemed so blissfully unaware of the animosity that she, Leonora, harboured towards her.

  Perhaps she is a little stupid, thought Leonora, with bitter satisfaction.

  This thought was the only bit of comfort she could draw from the whole experience, for she was only too well aware of how low her reputation must now stand in the opinion of the man she had so wished to impress.

  She shuddered and closed her eyes as she recalled that humiliating scene on deck.

  From the shadows, Mr. Chandos had witnessed her dancing in front of Señor de Guarda. She had behaved in a wanton fashion and no doubt Mr. Chandos considered that this had provoked the Señor’s assault upon her.

  Tears welled underneath her lids. She tried to force them back but failed as they trickled down her pale cheeks in such profusion that Desirée was alarmed.

  She ran swiftly to the cabin door and opened it.

  “Finny!” she called out along the corridor.

  Finny had obviously been nearby, as he was there in an instant.

  “Yes?” he enquired. “Is Miss Leonora all right?”

  At the sound of his voice, she opened her eyes.

  “Yes – I’m all right Finny.”

  Desirée looked dubious.

  “Perhaps you might bring something warm for her to drink, Finny?” she suggested.

  “A little soup if I can get cook to heat it up?”

  “Yes, that would be good, but Finny, don’t be long, will you? Because it’s – getting late, isn’t it?”

  “Nearly midnight, miss, but I won’t be long.”

  Finny hurried away.

  “Midnight – midnight,” Desirée muttered to herself.

  She sat down, put an abstracted hand on Leonora’s brow and immediately sprang up again.

  Small as the cabin was, she began to pace the floor and seemed for a moment to have forgotten her charge.

  Leonora watched, a bitter suspicion in her breast.

  It was obvious that Desirée had an assignation that she was most anxious to keep.

  An assignation with Mr. Chandos! This had been the meaning of that billet-doux in her purse that she had finally managed to slip to him.

  ‘I won’t let her go,’ Leonora suddenly resolved. ‘I know it is hateful and petty of me and it won’t make Mr. Chandos love me rather than her, but – I won’t let her go!’

  Her mind made up and she began to moan loudly.

  Desirée stopped her pacing and stared at Leonora.

  “What’s the matter?” she cried. “Are you in pain? Shall I fetch the Captain? He is, I think, a doctor of sorts.”

  Leonora shook her head and held out her hand.

  Desirée came close and grasped it.

  “My poor friend!” she murmured.

  If some flush of shame ran through Leonora at this designation of ‘friend’, she quickly suppressed it.

  All is fair in love and war.

  She could not win this war, as it was obvious that Mr. Chandos had already made his choice, but she could take a perverse pleasure in making sure the path of love did not run too smoothly!

  She closed her fingers around Desirée’s hand.

  “I am sure I’ll be all right if you don’t leave me,” she pleaded, allowing tears to well in her eyes again. “I d-don’t want to be alone. Please don’t leave me.”

  Desirée looked fraught.

  “Not leave you?”

  “No – if you are truly my friend – ”

  “Oh, I am, I am,” insisted Desirée, though her eyes flew hither and thither as if to find a means of escape.

  “Then stay with me.”

  Desirée hesitated for a short moment and then in resignation, let her head droop.

  “Of course I will, at least, until you sleep.”

  ‘Until I sleep,’ Leonora echoed silently, ‘very well, I won’t sleep!’

  She was helped in this resolution by the return of Finny with a bowl of hot soup, but she sent him away lest Desirée should find his presence an excuse to leave her.

  She enlisted her aid in sitting up and asked her to hold the bowl while she drank from the spoon.

  She noticed with satisfaction Desirée’s expression grow more and more miserable by the second.

  She finished the soup and lay back on the pillow.

  The light rocking of the ship was soporific and she soon found herself having to fight to keep awake.

  “Tell me about yourself, Desirée,” she urged.

  “Oh, there is nothing about me that would interest someone like you, Leonora. I’m really quite ordinary, you know. And – plain.”

  ‘Surely not too ordinary or plain for Mr. Chandos,’ Leonora thought bitterly.

  “I’m really not that talented, either,” she continued. “Though I am good at needlework.”

  “You are too modest,” said Leonora wryly. “After all, you’ve had your share of admirers, haven’t you?”

  Desirée looked sad.

  “Not many, no.”

  “Not one who was – is – special?”

  “Y-yes,” she faltered. “One who is – special.”

  ‘Ha,’ thought Leonora, ‘she’s as good as admitted it!

  It is Mr. Chandos, for the only other admirer is the one her parents prised her from by carrying her off on this ship and he could only be referred to in the past tense!’

  Desirée now seemed to have relinquished all hope of attending her assignation. Hands folded on her lap, she stared silently down at the floor.

  Regarding her wretched expression, Leonora began to feel uncomfortable. After all it was little more than a trivial triumph to boast that she had prevented the lovers meeting on just this one occasion.

  ‘How far I have come from the girl at Fenfold,’ she pondered with concern. ‘She would never have stooped to torment someone like Desirée in this way.

  ‘She would never have so demeaned herself as to drink punch and dance in front of a man whose character is as questionable as that of Señor de Guarda.

  She shivered as she recalled his threat.

  “Remember I know enough to undo you!”

  He knew that she was a runaway and he knew she had taken Mr. Schilling’s money – in fact he knew enough to ruin her reputation on this ship and beyond.
r />   Leonora sighed to herself.

  ‘What would Mama say if she knew? What would Isobel say?’

  Isobel would certainly reprimand her.

  ‘How could you let love change you so for the worse?’ she would ask.

  Leonora was brought out of her punishing thoughts by the sound of a knock at the cabin door and she watched as Desirée went to the door and opened it.

  Mr. Chandos stood outside.

  Glancing to the right and left along the corridor, he handed Desirée a folded piece of paper.

  She took it and scanned it quickly before thrusting it into her bodice and then looked up at Mr. Chandos and said something in a low voice.

  In an equally low voice, he replied. Desirée shook her head and twisted her hands in apparent anguish.

  She turned to refer to Leonora where she lay in bed and Leonora quickly closed her eyes.

  When she opened them a few seconds later, Desirée was writing something at the table.

  She then returned to the door, where Mr. Chandos waited and handed the paper to him.

  They are making yet another assignation, Leonora thought angrily, her moment of remorse quickly forgotten. They have no shame!

  “You may depend on me,” she heard Mr. Chandos say quietly and then he was gone.

  Desirée closed the door and returned to her chair.

  “Are you awake?” she asked Leonora.

  Leonora, as if asleep, turned to the wall.

  ‘I’ll wait and see what she does next,’ she promised herself, stifling a yawn. ‘I won’t sleep, I’ll just wait.’

  The very late hour proved too powerful for her for a second, however, but the next thing she knew was that her eyes were wide open.

  Raising her head, she saw that the cabin was empty.

  Desirée had gone.

  Crossly she sat up and felt for her shoes. She must have slept for just an instant and in that instant her quarry had flown.

  She then stumbled to the door, opened it and looked along the corridor, just in time to see the edge of Desirée’s skirt disappear around the corner.

  Driven to distraction at the thought of them meeting after all – though hardly knowing what she would do if she should indeed so discover them – Leonora hurried after.

  To her surprise, Desirée did not seem to be making for the saloon or deck or anywhere that Leonora deemed appropriate for a secret meeting.

  Instead she was heading for the stairs that led down to the lower depths of the ship – normally out of bounds to passengers.