Alvina gave a little cry.
“Do not ... talk like ... that! How can you say ... such wicked things?”
“I say them because I know they will come true,” Jason said slowly.
He lifted his glass and added in a voice that seemed to ring round the Library:
“To the future, and to the moment when we hear the Duke is dead! Long live the Duke!”
As he spoke he tipped the whole glass of champagne down his throat, and without another word went from the Library, leaving Alvina staring after him in sheer astonishment.
Because of the way he had spoken, and because he seemed to leave an atmosphere of evil behind him, she found it hard to move.
In fact, it was hard to do anything but feel that she had come in contact with something that was so wicked and beastly that she felt contaminated by it.
Then at last she told herself that Jason was mad, as mad as her father had been, and she would not be afraid or over-awed by him.
She walked towards the door, but even as she reached the Hall she heard the sound of wheels outside and knew that Jason was driving away.
By the time she could see him from the front door, he was crossing the bridge over the lake in a smart, lightly sprung Phaeton with huge wheels, drawn by a team of four horses which he was driving at a tremendous pace.
As he went up the drive, the dust billowed out behind him, and Alvina had the uncomfortable thought that he was driving a chariot of fire.
“How can he hate Cousin Ivar?” she asked herself.
Then she was afraid of the answer.
Two hours later, when Alvina had changed from her riding-habit and was arranging some flowers in the Drawing-Room, she heard voices in the Hall.
She had time only to put down the flowers she held in her arms and turn to the door as it opened and the Duke came in.
At the sight of him Alvina gave a little cry and without thinking ran towards him eagerly.
“You are back!” she exclaimed. “How wonderful! I have been ... longing for your ... return.”
“If I have been a long time you must forgive me,” the Duke said in his deep voice, “but I had a great deal to do in London.”
“I was sure of that,” Alvina replied, “but there is so much for you to see here, and your horses have arrived.”
“I thought they would please you,” he said. “There are several more arriving tomorrow, and I hope some others next week.”
Alvina clasped her hands together.
“We have been working desperately hard in repairing the stables,” she said. “I know you will be pleased ... and I want to show you the Ball-Room ... and the carpenters and painters have ... started work on the pensioners’ cottages.”
She spoke quickly and breathlessly, having been waiting for this moment to tell him of all the things she had been doing.
Then, as if she suddenly remembered that the Duke had travelled all the way from London, she said apologetically:
“But you must be thirsty, and I am sure Walton will be bringing you something to drink.”
As she spoke, Walton came in with a footman carrying a tray just as he had done a few hours earlier.
Alvina realised with a little throb of fear as she thought of it, that she would have to tell the Duke that Jason had been to the Castle.
‘I will tell him later,’ she thought, wanting to postpone for as long as possible something that was unpleasant.
Only when the Duke was sipping his glass of champagne did she realise that he was looking at her searchingly and with what she thought was a twinkle in his eyes.
“I suppose first,” she said a little shyly, “I should have thanked you for the ... wonderful gowns you sent me. I can hardly believe they are ... really mine! In fact, I do not feel myself, but somebody quite different!”
“You look very lovely in what you are wearing now,” the Duke said.
He paid her the compliment in his usual calm, rather dry voice, so that it did not make Alvina feel shy, and she only asked:
“How can you have been so clever as to know exactly the sort of gowns I would want to wear?”
“I cannot take all the credit,” the Duke confessed. “They were in fact chosen for you by one of the most important women in the Social World, who has most graciously promised to present you to Society and ensure that from the moment you arrive in London you will be a great success.”
The Duke spoke with a note of satisfaction in his voice and as he did so did not realise that Alvina stiffened.
“Whom ... are you talking ... about?” she asked, and her voice seemed to tremble.
“I am referring to the Countess of Jersey,” the Duke replied. “You may not have heard of her, but she is a leader of London Society, and I can think of nobody who would be a more advantageous Chaperone to introduce you to all the people you should know.”
There was silence. Then Alvina said in a very small voice:
“I ... I thought ... the Countess of Jersey was ... at one time a very ... close friend of the Prince Regent.”
The Duke raised his eye-brows.
He had somehow thought that Alvina, living so quietly in the country, would not have been aware of the scandal and gossip there had been about the Countess.
However, it had all ended a long time ago, and he knew that it certainly would not affect now the reputation of any girl to whom she extended her patronage.
At the same time, he was suddenly aware of how innocent and unsophisticated Alvina was.
It struck him that perhaps it would be a mistake to plunge her into the very centre of a social vortex with its intrigues, its liaisons, and inevitably its promiscuous women like Isobel and the lovely creature with whom he had dined last night.
Because he had not before considered this aspect in regard to Alvina, he walked to the window to stand staring out into the garden.
He was wondering if he had made a mistake and questioning the arrangements he had made.
It occurred to him that if she was not shocked by what she found in the Social World, contact with it might spoil her.
He was so used to the women with whom he associated taking for granted the love-affairs which filled their lives, and believing that fidelity to their husbands was out-of-date, that he had not thought of Alvina as being completely different.
Now he realised he was dealing with a very young, unspoilt, unworldly girl, and he knew that the Countess of Jersey’s involvement with the Prince had genuinely shocked her.
After a moment, when he knew Alvina was waiting for him to speak and was looking at him enquiringly, he said:
“I thought when I made the arrangement with the Countess that I was doing what was best for you, since she is undoubtedly the Leader of the Social World as we know it.”
“I ... I have been thinking over your suggestion that ... I should go to London,” Alvina said, “and I would not want you to think me ... ungrateful ... but if it is possible ... I would much rather ... stay here.”
She spoke hesitatingly, and after a moment the Duke said:
“I think it would be best for you to extend your horizons.”
“I understand what you are saying to me,” Alvina replied, “and I know how ... ignorant and how foolish you must ... think me ... but it would be different if ... Mama were with me ... or even if I had a father on whom I could rely for guidance and ... to prevent me from making mistakes.”
She made a little gesture with her hands which was somehow pathetic.
As she spoke, the Duke thought of the conversation that had taken place at the Countess of Jersey’s dinner party.
He remembered that although it had been sophisticated, witty, and undoubtedly amusing, there had been a double entendre in every other word, and he now thought that a great deal had been said which was very unsuitable for a young girl to listen to.
Almost as if he could see a picture unroll in front of him, he could see the expression in Lady Isobel’s eyes when she looked at him, and th
at look duplicated in the eyes of a dozen other women with whom he had danced, talked, and dined.
It was something with which he had grown very familiar in Paris, and he had almost taken it for granted.
Women were all the same, and they wanted only one thing from him.
But now he was aware that Alvina was very different.
He had not missed the lilt in her voice when he came into the room and the expression of joy and happiness in her eyes because he was back.
He suddenly felt that she was part of the sunshine outside, the flowers in the garden, the freshness of the air, and the birds that flew above the trees.
She was youth, she was spring. She was as clear as the sky overhead and the water silver in the lake.
Feeling almost that he was being accused of trying to commit a crime, he said as if to defend himself:
“I thought I was arranging what was best for you!”
“You are so kind, so very, very kind,” Alvina said, “and you know I will do anything you really want me to ... but please, this is where I belong ... and there is nothing in London which could be more wonderful than being here in this ... lovely Castle.”
There was a little tremor in her voice as she spoke, as if it was already being taken away from her, and the Duke said:
“Shall we talk about it later? I want to look at all the improvements you have been making, and of course to see the Ball-Room.”
At his words she made a little sound of excitement, and quite unselfconsciously she put her hand into his as she said:
“Come and look at the Ball-Room. I know it is going to surprise you, and everybody has worked so very, very hard so that you would be pleased.”
The Duke’s fingers closed over hers, and as they did so he told himself that he had to think about what he should do with her all over again.
One thing was more important than anything else—she must not be spoilt.
Dinner was over, and Alvina was wearing one of her new gowns, in which she felt like the Princess in a fairy-story.
It was white gauze, and in the new fashion was elaborately trimmed with frills and flowers round the hem.
There were also flowers on the small puffed sleeves which revealed her shoulders, the whiteness of her skin, and her long swan-like neck.
The Duke had looked at her critically as she joined him in the Drawing-Room before dinner and knew she could hold her own in any London Ball-Room.
She would undoubtedly be acclaimed as a Beauty as soon as she appeared.
There was something about her that was very distinctive and, he thought, unusual.
After scrutinising her with a connoisseur’s eye, he decided that she looked different from other women he had known because there was something untouched, perhaps spiritual, about her that had been missing in all of them.
He could not exactly describe it, except that he knew it was part of the same feeling he had had about the Castle when he was young.
If he had thought of himself, as he had, as a Knight, and the Castle itself had been peopled with Knights, then Alvina fitted in as one of their Ladies, filled with the same ideals of chivalry and honour.
That was what motivated the Knights, and if they were prepared to wage war against what was wrong and evil, so in their own way the women to whom they returned with the spoils of victory had the same standards from which they never faltered.
As they talked at dinner and the candles on the table illuminated Alvina’s face, the Duke thought her beauty had a subtlety that grew on the mind and on the imagination.
It was very different from a loveliness that was entirely physical.
He had grown used to knowing that every woman he met since hostilities had ceased had only one object, which was to arouse him physically into admiring and desiring her.
He knew when he considered it that while Alvina looked upon him with admiration, listened to him appreciatively, and was obviously thrilled to be with him, her feelings for him were very different.
She had no idea how to flirt, no idea how to turn the conversation so as to make it personal to her, whatever subject they might be discussing.
She did not attempt to touch him with intimate little gestures that were meant to be provocative.
Her lips did not curve to entice him, nor was there an invitation in her eyes.
Instead, she had an aura of happiness about her because she was with him, and there was a lilt in her voice with a kind of radiance about it when she talked of all she had been doing in his name on the Estate.
She made what she had to relate seem absorbingly interesting, and the Duke was quite surprised to find how long they had been in the Dining-Room.
Only when they went into the Drawing-Room, where the candles were lit and the fragrance of the flowers scented the room, did Alvina say a little hesitatingly: “There is ... something ... I feel I ... must tell you.”
“What is it?” the Duke asked.
“Cousin Jason was here today.”
“Jason?”
The name came from the Duke’s lips like a pistol-shot.
“Yes, and he was very angry ... and bitter.”
The Duke was silent for a moment. Then he said: “He must have been on his way to Dover. I told him to leave the country.”
“He was very ... angry!”
“That I can understand. I paid his debts—and they were astronomical—only on condition that he left England, and he will receive the allowance I promised him as long as he stays away.”
“I am sure it was very generous of you ... but he was very upset.”
“And he upset you?” the Duke questioned sharply.
“He ... he ... cursed you!”
The Duke laughed.
“That does not surprise me. My friend Gerald Chertson said that whatever I did for him, Jason would not be grateful.”
There was silence. Then Alvina said:
“He hates you ... and I am ... afraid he may ... hurt you.”
The Duke smiled.
“You are not to worry about me. I assure you I can take care of myself.”
He saw by the expression on her face that she was really worried, and added:
“I did not survive all those years of fighting against Napoleon’s Armies to be exterminated by a rat like Jason!”
“Cornered rats can be ... dangerous!” Alvina said, speaking as if the words were jerked from her lips.
“Jason is not cornered,” the Duke replied. “One of the reasons I was delayed in London was that I was making sure that all his debts were paid in full, and that his allowance would be waiting for him every quarter at a Bank in France. It will, I promise you, be impossible for him to starve.”
“I am still frightened for ... you.”
“I refuse to allow Jason to worry either you or me,” the Duke replied, “so forget him and let us talk of much more pleasant things.”
He saw that Alvina’s eyes were still clouded, and said to her quietly:
“I am very grateful to you for worrying about me, but I want you instead to think of yourself.”
Alvina raised her eyes to his, and he said:
“We are not going to talk about that tonight, but I will think over what you have said, and I want you to think about it too. We must try to come to some conclusion and agree as to what would be best for you.”
“You ... know the answer to that.”
The Duke was about to argue. Then he said: “Because I did not get to bed until the early hours of the morning, and as I suspect you are too tired after all you have done, I suggest we go to bed. Incidentally, I have not asked you how Miss Richardson is.”
“She is not very well,” Alvina replied. “She has been laid up these last two days, but she is being looked after by the new housemaids, and I hope she will be able to get up tomorrow.”
“Then I shall look forward to seeing her,” the Duke said. “Now I think we should both retire and arrange to meet in the Hall at half-past-seven so that we can
have an hour’s ride before breakfast.”
“That would be wonderful!” Alvina exclaimed. “I was so hoping you would suggest it, and I have been looking forward to seeing you on Black Knight.”
The Duke raised his eye-brows.
“Is that the name of my new stallion?”
Alvina looked embarrassed.
“I thought you would not mind my christening him,” she said. “He had a horrid name which did not seem appropriate to the Castle.”
The Duke laughed.
“Then Black Knight he shall be, and one day I will tell you exactly why it is so very appropriate.”
“Tell me now.”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “I need my ‘beauty sleep,’ and of course you have to live up to your new gowns.”
“I have not thanked you properly for them.”
“Thank me when the next lot arrives.”
He remembered as he spoke that he had asked the Countess of Jersey to choose Alvina’s wardrobe for her.
He had ordered two more gowns, which should arrive tomorrow or the next day, but he had thought it would be a mistake for her to have any more before she reached London.
Now he was wondering if all he had planned would have to be changed, and thought that perhaps he had made a mistake in enlisting the help of the Countess of Jersey before he had been certain it was what Alvina wanted.
But he did not wish to discuss it with her at the moment. So he took her by the arm and they walked up the stairs side by side, after the Duke had given orders for the horses to be ready for them in the morning.
When they reached the landing and separated, the Duke to go to his room and Alvina to hers, he said.
“Sleep peacefully, and do not worry. And I promise I will not force you to do anything you really have no wish to do.”
She looked up at him as he took her hand in his.
“You are so kind ... so very ... very kind, and I ... want to ... please you.”
“You do please me,” he answered, “and if you feel grateful to me, I am grateful to you for all you have done.”
“But we have not finished yet,” Alvina said quickly.
“We have not finished,” the Duke agreed.
“Then ... good-night, and ... thank you,” she said with a little throb in her voice.
A Duke in Danger Page 12
