“Why should you be so sure that my sight will not be impaired?”
“It is something I feel so strongly that I know I am correct in saying that within a few weeks you will be able to forget that this ever happened and just be yourself again.”
The Marquis smiled.
For the first time it was not the bitter, cynical smile that had twisted his lips yesterday.
“You certainly think in an original way, madame,” he said, “and you are encouraging me to be optimistic.”
“You would be very stupid to be anything else,” Norina replied. “If your eyes really were badly damaged with no hope of recovery, the oculists would have told you so when they first examined them. It is therefore only a question of patience, which is irksome but not soul-destroying!”
The Marquis gave a short laugh.
“Thank you, Mrs. Wyndham. You are very wise!”
*
It was an hour later that the oculist called and when Norina found out that he was in the house, she prayed that she had not been over-confident.
When she learned that the Marquis was alone, she went to his study, as she could not wait to know the verdict.
He was sitting in the window in the sunshine and, as she crossed the room, he said,
“Have you come to ask whether you were right or wrong?”
“Of course I have,” Norina replied. “You did not send for me and I could not bear to sit worrying until I knew the truth.”
“I am flattered that you should be so interested and I am delighted to tell you that you were right. But the oculist insisted that I continue to wear the bandage.”
Norina clasped her hands together.
“That is good news – very good – news,” she cried, “and I am thrilled to know that you will soon be well!”
“Then, of course, I will be able to read my own letters,” the Marquis said.
Norina was suddenly still.
“Are you – saying,” she asked in a very small voice, “that it is – unnecessary for me to – come with you – to France?”
“Would it upset you to be left behind?” the Marquis enquired.
“Please, take me – with you – oh – please do! I cannot explain – but it is very – important that I leave London!”
As soon as she spoke, she realised that she had made a mistake, for the Marquis said,
“Tell me why. I thought yesterday that your desire to stay with me was rather strange, but now I find it even stranger that you should wish to leave your own country.”
There was silence.
Then Norina answered,
“Please – don’t think me rude – but I cannot answer – that question.”
“You are in trouble,” the Marquis said. “But I thought your husband was dead.”
“He is – I am a widow – I am wearing mourning for him.”
“Then if you are not hiding from your husband – who is it that has frightened you?”
Norina made no reply, and the Marquis commented,
“I know you are frightened! I can hear it in your voice and, although I am not touching you, I could swear that you are trembling!”
Norina walked a little nearer to the window so that she could look out at the sunshine.
She did not speak and after some seconds the Marquis said,
“I think you owe me an explanation.”
“It is – something I – cannot explain,” Norina answered. “Please – be understanding and just – accept me as a competent secretary and reader.”
She looked hastily round the study.
The morning newspapers were lying on a stool in front of the fireplace.
“I am sure,” she said desperately, “that you would like me to read the newspapers. If I read you the headlines, you can tell me which stories you would like me to read further.”
“You are running away,” the Marquis persisted, “but you have made me curious and, of course, as I cannot see, I shall have to use my perception or what you might call my ‘inner eye’ to find out what is worrying you.”
“Perhaps that is something which will keep you occupied,” Norina said, “and when you do learn the answer, you may find it disappointing.”
“I feel that is unlikely,” the Marquis replied.
Norina picked up the newspapers and started to read some of the headlines.
At the same time she was no longer trembling.
It was obvious that the Marquis was taking her with him to France.
*
The Marquis and Norina left early in the morning.
Just in case there was anyone on the platform who might have seen her at a party or a ball, Norina covered her face with her black veil.
She did the same when they arrived at Dover.
The Marquis in his wheelchair was lifted on board the steamer with Jean pushing and the Courier pulling the chair.
The Marquis was wearing an overcoat, the collar of which he pulled up over his chin and his hat came down to cover his face.
Norina followed discreetly behind.
She thought that none of the passengers there were in the least curious about an elderly man in a wheelchair.
All they were concerned with was hurrying aboard and taking the best seats.
She was delighted to find that she had a small, quite comfortable cabin to herself.
The Marquis was next door, and there was only one other private cabin on the steamer.
There was a strong wind, and the sea was choppy even before they left the harbour.
Norina was not certain whether or not she would be a good sailor. She decided not to take any chances.
She therefore took off her hat and lay down on the bunk.
When they left the harbour the sea was very rough. She found her wig which, as she had told Dawes when he brought it to her, was tight. It was so restricting that it gave her a headache.
She therefore took it off to lie down with her eyes closed.
The steamer pitched and rolled. While at first she was afraid she would be seasick, she unexpectedly fell asleep.
*
Norina was awakened by the Courier knocking on the door of her cabin and calling,
“We are in harbour, Mrs. Wyndham, and will be going ashore in a few minutes!”
Norina jumped up hastily.
She had been dreaming that she was on the swing that her father had tied between two trees when she was a little girl.
Quickly she put on her hat and coat and she was just ready when Jean came in to collect her hand luggage.
“I am taking Monsieur ashore first,” he told her.
Norina thought it a good idea that they should board the train before the other passengers disembarked and this was obviously the Marquis’s idea.
He was pushed at a tremendous pace along the quay and on to where the train to Paris was waiting.
His private coach was at the very end of the train and Norina, following him, thought there would be no prying eyes to recognise them.
She had never seen a private coach before and the Marquis’s was obviously very comfortable. It had deep armchairs and small tables in front of them on which a meal could be served.
There was a pantry and, as she was to discover later, two bedrooms, besides a convenient amount of room for the luggage.
Once they had seated themselves, Jean produced a bottle of champagne.
“I feel this is something we both need,” the Marquis remarked, “after that very unpleasant crossing.”
“I luckily missed it,” Norina admitted, “because I fell asleep!”
“Then you are certainly a better sailor than most women!” the Marquis remarked dryly.
Norina had drawn the veil back from her face and, as she lifted the glass of champagne to her lips, she thought that she might as well take off her hat. She wanted to be comfortable for the long journey to Paris.
It was then, to her consternation, she realised that she had forgotten to replace her wig.
Havi
ng taken it off, she had put it down on the berth she was lying on.
When she risen so hastily, she must have thrown the rug that covered her over it, forgetting that it was there.
There was nothing she could do and she hoped that Jean would not mention to the Marquis that she had suddenly changed the colour of her hair.
‘Perhaps he will not be aware of it,’ she consoled herself.
At the same time it was extremely annoying after Dawes had gone to so much trouble in procuring the wig.
It was, however, impossible not to be excited when the train moved out of the station. She was seeing France for the first time.
At first there were the well-cultivated fields that looked very similar to their English counterparts and then there was the wide-open land.
The broad hedges and the great forests seemed enormous enough to contain the dragons that as a child she had believed lurked in them.
She thought that the Marquis might be interested to know what they were passing and so she relayed to him in detail what she was seeing.
“There is a very unusual Church,” she exclaimed “with two spires and I am sure it must be very old. There is what looks like a Convent or a Monastery on one side of it.”
There were picturesque little hamlets that delighted her and also the long roads with their sentinel like trees on either side.
She described everything she was seeing quite naturally to the Marquis, as she thought it was a mistake for him to sit brooding over his blindness.
Finally, when darkness fell, Jean brought them their supper from the pantry. It must have been ordered by the Courier before they started on their journey.
It seemed to Norina to be delightful. But the Marquis complained about the soup and was not as enthusiastic as she was over the pâté.
“I believe the best cheeses come from Norinandy,” she said after they had finished a main dish of chicken.
“Who told you that?” the Marquis enquired.
“I expect it was my father,” Norina replied, “but I have read a great deal about France and I cannot tell you how exciting it is for me to be here!”
“I am sorry I cannot show you Paris,” the Marquis remarked, “and, of course, you will not be able to wander about by yourself.”
“Why not?” Norina asked in surprise.
“Because, Mrs. Wyndham, you are a woman, and I gather, even with your spectacles, a very presentable one!”
“Did Jean – tell you – that?” Norina asked. “I am – flattered!”
“How old are you?” the Marquis asked unexpectedly.
Norina drew in her breath.
This was an important question that she knew she would have to answer intelligently.
After a moment she said,
“As a woman you will understand that I do not willingly reveal such personal information about myself, but shall I say we are perhaps, monsieur, somewhat of the same age.”
“I shall be thirty next birthday,” the Marquis said, “which I am sure you will think very old.”
“I have always been told,” Norina said, “that forty is the youth of old age and the old age of youth!”
The Marquis laughed.
“Was it a Frenchman or an Englishman who said that?”
“I am not certain, but I think that a Frenchman would be too polite to probe deeply.”
“I stand corrected!” the Marquis said. “But, as we have nothing else to talk about, tell me a little about yourself. To begin with, what is your Christian name?”
Norina had already thought of the answer to this.
She had decided it might be dangerous to call herself Norina and at the same time, she did not wish in an unguarded moment to forget what she had decided her name would be.
She therefore replied ‘Rina’, knowing that was a name that would not slip her mind.
“Rina!” the Marquis repeated pensively. “And now tell me about your husband. Did you love him very much?”
“Of course,” Norina said quickly, “but I don’t want to talk – about him or about – myself.”
“Now you are being difficult again. I am trying to create a composite picture of you in the darkness of my mind and I think the least you could do would be to give me some clues. Even in a paperchase the runners can look for the paper!”
“That makes it too easy,” Norina objected, “and you will just have to find out for yourself!”
She bent forward as she spoke to draw back the curtains over the windows and she then looked out into the darkness.
“The stars are coming out,” she said, “and the little hamlet we are passing has lights in practically every window. It’s very romantic!”
“Is that what you are looking for?” the Marquis asked. “Another romance?”
He did not wait for her answer, but went on,
“Of course you are! Love is what every woman wants and they feel if they don’t find it that there is something wrong with them.”
“I think the love you are talking about, monsieur,” Norina said coldly, “is different from the love that I have known in my life.”
“Tell me about it,” the Marquis suggested.
Norina was thinking of her father and mother as she responded,
“Real love, which as you say, is what all women want – is the companionship of the mind, the heart and the soul.”
“And what about the body?” the Marquis enquired.
“It is everything and that, of course, is important, but what really matters is that a man and a woman look for the other half of themselves and, if they find it, then they are blissfully happy for ever.”
“It cannot be for ever,” the Marquis said, “but only until one dies.”
Norina shook her head.
“I am quite certain,” she said, “that if two people really love each other, then they will be together for eternity. When they are born again, they will not be apart, but will find each other as they did in this life.”
“That is the Buddhist theory rather than the Christian,” the Marquis observed.
“I don’t think it matters what it is called,” Norina said, “but in life there cannot be death.”
There was silence for a moment.
Then the Marquis said,
“So you are quite certain that is the truth and you will find your husband again?”
Again there was silence.
Norina had not been thinking of herself, but of the ideals of love that she had read about. It was the way her mother had loved her father.
Yet she was wondering, as she had a million times before, how her father could possibly have married Violet and put her in her mother’s place.
It hurt her agonisingly to think of it, so that for a moment she forgot that the Marquis was waiting for an answer to his question.
Suddenly he asked,
“What is hurting you? Why are you so unhappy? I can feel it as if it is a wave sweeping over me.”
Norina was startled.
“You are reading my – thoughts! And that is something you must – not do and I am – sure you would not do – if your eyes were not – bandaged.”
“I thought you approved of me using my ‘inner eye’,” the Marquis said.
“But not where I am concerned!”
“Then for what else?” he enquired. “We are alone together and it would be very boring if we could not talk about fundamental interests rather than stocks and shares!”
Norina laughed.
“I have no wish to talk about them!”
“Surely you are interested in money?” the Marquis asked. “And do you realise that you have never asked me what salary I intend to pay you?”
Norina remembered how Dawes had told her that was what she must do.
“It was foolish of me,” she admitted, “but it did not – seem to matter, apart from the fact that you were – taking me – away from England.”
“I am still waiting to hear what ‘Big Bad Wolf’ is frightening
you!” the Marquis remarked.
Norina thought that Violet was hardly a ‘Big Bad Wolf’. She was more like a poisonous snake slithering along the ground and making it difficult for her victim to escape.
“But you have escaped!” the Marquis said.
Norina gave a little cry.
“Now you are reading my thoughts again and it is not fair! I shall close my eyes and see if I can read yours!”
“I am delighted for you to do so,” the Marquis said, ”and shall I tell you that I am finding this journey far more interesting and definitely more amusing than I expected?”
“Thank you and it is only fair that you should enjoy it when I am thrilled with every mile as we draw nearer and nearer to Paris.”
The Marquis did not speak for a little while.
Then he said,
“I am wondering if I am making a mistake.”
“About what?” Norina enquired.
“In going to Paris,” he said, “I wanted to escape from London because I could not bear it if anybody found out what had happened to me. But the same applies to Paris. It would be a good story to know that ‘the Wicked Marquis’ has received his ‘just deserts’ at last!”
“‘The Wicked Marquis’ Norina repeated. “Is that your reputation?”
“It is,” the Marquis admitted. “I am well aware of what people say about me and, as I find beautiful women irresistible, there are always jealous husbands and other men who quite naturally feel that they must defend their honour.”
He put up his hands to his bandaged eyes as he spoke and the bitterness was back in his voice.
“What you have to do in the future,” Norina suggested, “is to ask yourself if it is worth the risk.”
“I am already asking myself that.”
“I think the answer is that you should settle down and have a large family. That should keep you occupied when you are in the country.”
Norina paused before she added,
“I expect you have a magnificent château somewhere in France?”
“I have one in the Loire Valley,” the Marquis replied, “but I have no intention of going there.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have a great number of relatives who would exclaim over my wounds and wag their heads and say they always knew that something like this would happen sooner or later!”
Because the way he spoke sounded so funny, Norina laughed.
Too Precious to Lose Page 7
