Count the Stars

by Barbara Cartland

  “You are making me unbearably curious,” William Travers said in a low voice. “But I have a feeling that I shall want to thank you from the very bottom of my heart.”

  “You will be able to do that in the future if you agree to what I suggest,” the Duke answered. “But please observe the condition I have made. You will realise its significance when I tell you that a wager depends on it.”

  He spoke with a mocking note in his voice and William Travers laughed.

  “After all we have been through together,” he said, “I can appreciate the importance really lies in the fact that it is very different from death and damnation.”

  “That describes the events of the last few minutes very eloquently,” the Duke replied, “but you realise it is vitally important that from this moment William Travers, the highwayman with a price on his head, is a dead man.”

  He spoke seriously and gave a brief glance at Giles lying at their feet.

  “I can only say thank you,” William Travers said in a voice that vibrated with sincerity.

  “I did not foresee what has actually happened,” the Duke went on, “but I was aware that it would be a tragedy and a dreadful waste of your abilities for you to continue being hounded by the Military and unable to work while there was a price on your head.”

  William Travers looked at him excitedly as the Duke continued,

  “I therefore took the liberty of re-naming you and, as I always think it is wise to keep as near as possible to the truth, I have called you William Thornton.”

  “I have always understood that it is a Godfather’s privilege to name the child,” his companion replied with a touch of laughter in his voice.

  “I am glad you approve,” the Duke said, “and now from this moment you must forget everything but your new identity.”

  He held out his hand as he spoke,

  “While I shall not forget, Thornton, that you saved my life.”

  The two men clasped hands and the new William Thornton replied,

  “I shall always remember that you have given me a new life.”

  “I hope you will enjoy it,” the Duke answered, “and now my wife and I must be on our way.”

  He walked back into the Church and went into the Vestry where he found Valora waiting on a chair beside the Vicar.

  She looked up as the Duke came in through the door and he saw by the light in her eyes how glad she was to see him.

  “We must leave,” he said quietly, “but first I want to thank the Vicar for marrying us and apologise for keeping him so long from the bridal party.”

  “He is rather – upset by what has – occurred,” Valora said in a low voice.

  “Of course he is,” the Duke replied, “but I think, sir, you have behaved with a courage and dignity that is embellishment to the office you hold.”

  The old man flushed at the Duke’s praise and rose to his feet.

  “I am sure you are right, sir,” he said, “in thinking the world is a better place without those highwaymen. At the same time they should not have come into the sanctity of my Church carrying firearms.”

  “It is something they will never do again,” the Duke replied lightly. “Now if you will excuse us, my wife and I have to reach York before it grows too late.”

  “Then you must leave at once,” the Vicar answered instantly. “It is a long way, but I expect you have good horses to convey you there.”

  “We have indeed,” the Duke answered, “but may I suggest that we leave by a different door and that you find someone later to collect what is blocking the usual entrance to the Church.”

  The Vicar understood and held out his hand to Valora.

  “Goodbye my child,” he said. “May I wish you two young people every happiness and a long life together. I feel, although what has happened at your wedding may have spoilt it for you, that God has given you his Blessing.”

  “I am sure He has,” Valora replied in a low voice, “and thank you again for your kindness.”

  She curtseyed and the Vicar shook hands with the Duke.

  “Look after her,” he urged. “You are a very lucky man to have such a charming wife.”

  “Very lucky,” the Duke agreed.

  The Vicar let them out by the Vestry door and they walked round the Church to the lychgate, where William Thornton was waiting beside the horses. The Duke lifted Valora onto the saddle and said,

  “Say goodbye to our friend. He is going South and we are going North. But we are both aware it is due to him that I am alive.”

  “ – and I am not being taken back to Heverington Hall,” Valora said almost beneath her breath.

  She bent towards William Thornton with her hand outstretched.

  “Thank you – thank you,” she sighed. “If you had not been able to warn us – they might have taken us – unawares.”

  There was a distinct tremor in her voice as she spoke.

  “It is all over now,” he replied, “and they will never trouble you again. Nor will anyone else – your husband will see to that.”

  “We shall see you again sometime?” Valora asked.

  “Your husband has plans for me. I am very content to be in his hands.”

  William Thornton glanced at the Duke as he spoke and the two men smiled at each other. Then he lifted Valora’s hand to his lips and said,

  “I feel sure, Miss Valora – it is difficult to think of you as anything else – you will be very happy.”

  The Duke started to move away on Samson.

  “I hope so,” Valora whispered.

  She wanted to ask him how she could keep in touch, but she thought it was a stupid question. How could a highwayman have an address? Then it struck her that she had no idea what her own address would be.

  As if the spell enveloping her ever since she had entered the Church suddenly lifted, Valora became vividly aware that she was married. She had a husband and she knew nothing about him.

  Her heart was singing because she was free of the fear that had been with her day and night, ever since her stepmother had told her she was to marry Sir Mortimer.

  It was a fear that had overshadowed her thoughts and feelings from the moment she woke to the moment she went to sleep.

  Even in her dreams he had been pursuing her and she had known instinctively that he was everything that was cruel and evil and only a miracle could save her from becoming his wife.

  The miracle had occurred in the shape of a man who had been occupying the bedroom next door and, when Walter, who she felt was an instrument of the Devil, was only ten minutes behind them, this stranger had saved her again – saved her for all time!

  Now she was free – free from her stepmother and Sir Mortimer. They had no jurisdiction over her.

  But she was married!

  The words seemed almost to be written in letters of fire in the sky as she rode after the Duke, trying to collect her thoughts, trying to believe that what had happened so swiftly and unexpectedly had actually taken place and that she had become the wife of a man who had not even proposed to her.

  As Mercury drew up alongside Samson, Valora glanced at the Duke from under her eyelashes and thought that there was a smile of satisfaction on his face.

  He turned to look at her and she thought too that there was a glint of triumph in his eyes.

  Then without a word he started to ride fast and hard using the grass edge of the road and all the time heading North.

  Now there were milestones and the Duke saw when they passed the first one after the village that William Thornton had been right in saying it would take them only three hours to reach York.

  He reckoned, therefore, they should be there before five o’clock and he could not believe that there would be more delays or hindrances on their way.

  The horses, having had a rest while they had luncheon, responded to everything that was required of them.

  Soon the traffic on the road increased, the country changed to become more undulating and more open and the Duke th
ought that they were now in the County of Yorkshire.

  He was determined, however, not to have a conversation with Valora until she had recovered from the shock of seeing two men shot dead and what he was sure had been little less of a shock at being married so unexpectedly.

  At the same time he knew, with a feeling of happiness that he had never known before, that she was his and that however long it took, he would eventually persuade her to love him as he loved her.

  Without appearing to do so, he was watching her as she rode beside him, admiring the elegant manner in which she sat on her horse and the delicacy of her features under her gauzed-draped riding hat.

  ‘She is so sensitive and vulnerable,’ he thought, ‘that I must be very gentle with her until she grows used to me.’

  Equally because he knew even to think of Valora made his blood quicken, it would be hard for him not to make love to her and to kiss her.

  He felt his lips aching at the thought and he knew that every moment they were together he loved her more.

  ‘She is everything I could ever want as a wife,’ he told himself.

  Once again he was commending the dignity and the composure she had shown in circumstances that would have sent most women into screaming hysterics.

  It was almost inconceivable that everything should have played so fortunately into his hands.

  If Walter and Giles had tracked them down to one of the inns where they had stayed, the story might have indeed been very different, but the Duke thought that God had been on their side and good had undoubtedly triumphed over evil.

  That was not the way he would have thought about it in the past and he told himself that already Valora’s purity was changing his outlook and his approach to problems whether they were large or small.

  ‘I suppose Freddie will say that I have found my soul,’ he thought to himself with a smile.

  But it was not a mocking one, as he knew he had not only found his soul – but Valora!

  They reached the outskirts of York at about ten minutes to five and as the first building of the City came in sight, the Duke could see the tall tower of York Minster silhouetted against the sky.

  He was aware that he had won his bet and that now he had to tell Valora who he actually was.

  He wondered what she would feel on learning he was not plain Mr. Standon, but a Duke!

  As the horses slowed down because of the carriages, drays and carts on the road, he put out his hand to say,

  “We are nearly there – you are not too tired, Valora?”

  “Not in the least, only rather thirsty.”

  “Now I think of it, so am I,” the Duke said.

  Commonplace words and yet he thought that their eyes were saying very different things to each other. He told himself the sooner they arrived the better.

  “Do you remember where your grandfather lives?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Valora replied, “in Bishopthorpe Palace.”

  “Palace?” the Duke questioned.

  “Oh! I forgot,” Valora said, “perhaps I did not tell you, but grandfather is the Archbishop of York.”

  The Duke was astonished.

  He had expected Valora’s grandfather to be just a country gentleman. Now it struck him that nothing would be more fortunate than that he should be the Archbishop of York.

  He had already been thinking while they were riding of what his family’s reaction to his marriage would be.

  Although he knew that they would all in time come to love Valora for herself, he was aware that the more strait-laced of his female relatives would deplore that she should be the daughter of a man who had caused such a scandal by running away with the wife of an actor.

  The Duke was prepared to defend Valora and prevent, if it was humanly possible, anyone from upsetting her.

  But he was aware she was already sensitive about such things because of the way she had been treated in the country and in London after her father died.

  Now that he could lay stress in her relationship to an Archbishop, it would, he thought, smooth the way with those of his aunts and great-aunts who would be ready to condemn her, however unfairly, for her father’s misdeeds.

  “I am certainly looking forward to meeting your grandfather,” he said out loud.

  “I hope he will recognise me,” Valora replied. “I have not seen him since I was twelve years old and Mama took me to meet him in London when he came South for some special ceremony.”

  “I expect you looked much as you do now,” the Duke answered lightly.

  He turned his head to look at Valora and then he was aware of someone waving frantically to him from the pavement.

  As he drew in his horse in astonishment, Jenkins ran to his side.

  “I knew Your Grace would do it!” he cried excitedly. “Major Stanley said I were a fool to come and meet you and you would be back in London while I was waiting here.”

  “As you see Major Stanley was wrong,” the Duke replied. “I am glad to see you, Jenkins.”

  He realised his valet was looking in horror at his boots and the dust and stains on his white buckskin breeches.

  Then it struck him that Jenkins had addressed him as ‘Your Grace’ and he turned to Valora to see her reaction to it.

  But he saw that she had not heard, because she was concerned with controlling Mercury from shying at a street vendor, who had scores of brightly coloured windmills on a handcart and was carrying a number of balloons, which were moving about in the wind.

  The Duke bent from the saddle to say to Jenkins,

  “I am still incognito and you should address me as ‘sir’.”

  “Very good, Your – sir.”

  “We are going to Bishopthorpe Palace,” the Duke said. “Follow us there. I presume you have a conveyance of some sort?”

  “I came in the brake, sir,” Jenkins grinned.

  The Duke was amused, because he knew that the brake when travelling long distances was pulled by six horses.

  He could now understand how Jenkins had managed to get ahead of them, especially as he had doubtless travelled directly up the main road and spent only a few hours a night sleeping.

  Having asked the way and learning that Bishopthorpe Palace lay South-West of the City, they rode over open land until they saw the long flanking walls of the Gate house.

  The Palace, built on the banks of the River Ouse in the fifteenth century, had been rebuilt after the Restoration.

  As they rode up to the front door, the Duke was relieved to think that Jenkins was not far behind and he would not only be able to make a change of clothing but also enjoy a bath.

  Then he realised, as grooms appeared to take their horses, that Valora was looking apprehensive.

  As he lifted her down from the saddle, he said,

  “Don’t worry. If your grandfather is not pleased to see us, there are plenty of other places we can go.”

  “The hotels in York might be expensive,” she warned.

  “That will be of no consequence,” the Duke replied and he thought that she looked at him curiously.

  The butler who opened the door was an old man who seemed ready to say that the Archbishop was not receiving guests.

  “Will you tell – His Grace,” Valora said a little nervously, “that it is his – granddaughter who has called.”

  The butler stared at her.

  “His granddaughter?” he repeated.

  “My mother was His Grace’s daughter.”

  “God bless my soul!” the butler declared. “His Grace’ll be delighted, really delighted, miss. He’s often talked of her Ladyship and said how deeply he regretted not seeing her before she died.”

  “She too would have liked to see him,” Valora said softly.

  “Come this way, miss, and I’ll take you to His Grace. He’s in the library.”

  The butler led the way and, as he went ahead, Valora looked up at the Duke.

  She put her hand into his and his fingers tightened reassuringly a
nd, as he smiled at her, she said a little prayer of gratefulness because he was there and somehow nothing was frightening when he was beside her.

  From the vaulted Gothic entrance hall the butler opened the door of the library where a man with white hair sat at the window as if he was enjoying the last rays of the sunshine before the sun sank.

  The butler crossed the room to stand beside him.

  “A surprise, Your Grace, and a pleasant one! Her Ladyship’s daughter’s here. Your Grace’ll remember we last saw her when you was in London.”

  The Archbishop, who had been reading a book, raised his head and the Duke saw that he was a fine looking old man with a serene expression as if he had made his peace with God and man, and there were no troubles to mar the quietness of his eventide.

  Valora moved forward.

  “Do you remember me, Grandpapa?” she asked. “It’s a long time since I last saw you.”

  “It is indeed, Valora,” the Archbishop replied, “but you are very like your mother.”

  “I am glad you think so,” Valora said. “She used to speak of you with great love and was always so sad that she was not well enough to come North and visit you.”

  “I always remember her in my prayers,” the Archbishop said gently, “and you, my child.”

  “Thank you,” Valora replied.

  She bent forward and kissed her grandfather on the cheek, then looked round at the Duke and before she could speak the Archbishop enquired,

  “And who is this you have brought with you?”

  The Duke held out his hand.

  “I am the Duke of Brockenhurst, Your Grace. Valora and I were married this afternoon.”

  “Married!” the Archbishop exclaimed. “But where and why was I not told?”

  The Duke hardly heard what the old man said because he was looking at Valora.

  He saw the astonishment in her face as she heard his words and he was sure that she was not only surprised but also a little frightened.

  “So much has happened, Your Grace, which we would like to relate to you in detail,” the Duke said to the Archbishop, “but may I suggest something first?”

  “Yes, of course,” the Archbishop replied.