106. Love's Dream in Peril (5 page)

Jane heard these words with a mixture of emotions. Clearly Lord Ranulph was a proud man, he did not like anyone to better him, not even his friend.

And yet, he seemed to understand how she felt and be genuinely anxious to reassure her.

“You concern for your friend is most admirable,” he was saying with a much gentler expression in his eyes.

Then Jane remembered and the thought made her shiver, that, if this noble handsome aristocrat knew her true situation that she was a humble teacher who must make her own way in life, he would get up and leave the table.

He had noticed her unease.

“Please, you must believe me. All will be well with your friend. Perhaps you would care for some more tea?”

Jane thanked him and smiled. How could she refuse when he spoke so kindly to her?

Just for one moment she allowed herself to dream of how different her life might be if she was a young lady of means.

Then the door of the teashop rattled and Jane saw that Adella had returned safe and sound and with a happy smile on her pretty face.

Lord Ranulph flashed a grin at Jane, as if to say, ‘I told you so!’ All was well as he had said it would be.

But there was no time to linger and Adella caught Jane’s hand.

“We should leave at once,” she whispered. “I have just heard the clock strike and it’s a quarter-to-five!”

Lord Ranulph and Digby took their leave of the two girls with low bows and many polite thanks for the tea.

Adella found it very hard to say goodbye to Digby, but she felt a great deal happier when he whispered in her ear that he would write a note to her and deliver it to the school in the morning before she left.

“I was so worried about you,” Jane said, as the two girls left the teashop and set off along the pavement.

“Oh, Jane, why? I had a perfectly lovely time, but quick, we must hurry.”

“What happened? Did you go to the Botanical Gardens after all?”

Adella nodded and then she felt suddenly shy as she recalled the touch of Digby’s lips against hers.

Somehow she did not want to tell Jane that she had been kissed. She wanted to keep that precious memory to herself, at least for today.

So she simply replied,

“It was most interesting. So many extraordinary plants. There was even a pineapple.”

“And Digby wasn’t badly behaved, he didn’t – ?”

“Didn’t what?” Adella wondered for a moment if Jane had read her mind and knew about the kiss. “Oh, Jane, please don’t think any more about it. I have had a quite perfect afternoon and now we simply must dash.”

Jane decided to say nothing about the wager. Adella was going to London tomorrow and she would probably never see Digby again.

Why spoil her happiness?

“Come on, Jane! Our lives will not be worth living if we arrive back after five o’clock.”

And with that Adella caught up her skirts and ran along the pavement. It was such bliss to go so fast and to feel the cool air rushing past her face.

She still had the feeling, exactly as when she had walked beside Digby, that her feet were scarcely touching the ground and she did not want Jane to ask her any more questions, as she knew she would have to tell everything if her friend persisted.

If she spoke about the kiss and about the way that Digby had made her feel, the dream, the vision of joy and bliss she had experienced in the Gardens might change and therefore lose some of its golden perfection.

There would be time enough tomorrow, when she had read the letter that Digby was going to send her.

Adella gave a little skip for sheer delight and ran on and Jane, clutching their parasols and gasping for breath was close behind her as they reached the leafy side street that led to the school.

It was only just five o’clock. They had made it!

*

Digby felt quite light-headed, as he trotted up the stone staircase to his rooms, a bit like one of his sisters’ kites, when the girls had let go of the string and there was nothing to anchor it to the ground anymore.

‘I must have caught a touch of the sun,’ he said to himself.

But it was not that, he knew. Yes, he had been out all day riding and then walking in the Botanical Gardens.

It was not his long day out in the summer sunshine that was affecting him, it was that heavenly girl, Adella.

She was even prettier and even sweeter than he had first thought when he made that stupid wager with Lord Ranulph.

He could not get her lovely face out of his mind, so vivid and alive and happy, gazing up at him after he had kissed her.

And he knew that, if the light weight of her slender arm was still resting on his, the strange dizzy feeling that possessed him would vanish.

Oh well! He would get Batcup to pour him out a splendid glass of chilled white wine and then he would go to his desk and write a note to her, as he had promised.

He was surprised, as he reached the landing where his rooms were situated, to see Batcup, his scout, standing outside the door.

The old man’s face was creased with worry.

“Mr. Dryden, I wanted to warn you that you have a visitor.”

“Batcup, you know I never mind if any of the chaps drop by to see me and you let them, in fact, I’m delighted.”

“No, sir, it’s not that.”

Puzzled, Digby pushed the door open.

On the rug by the fireplace was a burly figure in a long tweed coat. Digby recognised Mr. Evans, the Manager of his father’s estate at Duncombe.

“This is a surprise!” he exclaimed. “Has Batcup looked after you? I trust he brought you a cup of tea.”

Mr. Evans looked down at his boots and Digby saw that the man wore a black band around the arm of his coat.

It must then be bad news. Perhaps one of his many elderly great-aunts had died.

Mr. Evans coughed and then spoke,

“Sir, there has been an accident. Your father fell from his horse as he was taking a jump this morning.”

Digby caught hold of the back of an armchair. The golden dream that had filled his mind evaporated like mist.

“Is he – all right?”

Mr. Evans looked down at the hearthrug.

“I am afraid not, sir. He – it was instant, I believe. I am so very sorry, sir.”

Digby felt his heart grow icy cold.

His Papa! How could it be? His tall, loud-voiced, cheerful Papa, the rock of the family, gone.

Now, he, Digby would be the head of the Dryden household.

He felt he should weep or shout or say something, but everything about him felt frozen with shock.

“You must come home, sir, right away,” Mr. Evans was saying.

“Of course.”

Digby blinked and tried to focus his mind.

Was not there something that he had to do before he left? He looked round the room, trying to remember.

There was his desk in the corner with his pens and papers littered all over it, the desk where he had spent so much time studying over the last months.

Of course! He must write to Adella. But there was no time now to sit down and do so.

He next had to give Batcup precise instructions to pack everything up and clear the room and then he had to leave for Duncombe with Mr. Evans.

What could he do? Adella would be gone from Mottram’s School tomorrow, she had told him, and he had no idea where she would be living in London.

Batcup could take a message for him! But then Digby saw how slowly the old scout was moving, as he shuffled over with a glass of sherry for Mr. Evans.

It would be too much to ask of the old man to walk so far when he had so much work to do at the end of term.

“The carriage waits for us at an inn nearby. If you are ready, sir.” Mr. Evans prompted.

“I am.”

Sometime, when things were calmer and he could think properly again, he would find out where Adella was.

He would see her again. He had to, for until he could be with her again, he would know no peace.

Digby turned to Batcup and asked the old man to send his luggage on to Duncombe Hall after him.

Then, with a heavy heart, he followed Mr. Evans down the stairs to begin his sad journey to Duncombe.

*

Adella folded the last petticoat neatly and looked for somewhere to pack it.

Two big trunks stood in the middle of her bedroom floor with their lids wide open. Each one was piled so high with dresses and stockings and scarves and ribbons that the garments threatened to overflow the sides and tumble out.

“I think you had better have this,” she said, giving a petticoat to Jane. “We shall never manage to close the trunks as it is.”

“You have given me so much!” Jane sighed.

There was something a bit different about Jane this morning, Adella thought.

She was as practical and sensible as ever as she helped with Adella’s sorting and packing, but there was an unusual soft look in her dark eyes, a gentle brightness that Adella had never seen before.

Could it be that Jane too had undergone something similar to Adella’s magical experience in the Botanical Gardens as she sat with Digby’s friend in the teashop?

“Nothing is good enough for you, dearest Jane,” she said. Then she added, “Lord Ranulph is a fine-looking man, isn’t he?”

Jane looked at the white folds of the petticoat.

“He is the most handsome man I have ever seen,” she answered.

“Oh, Jane!” Adella cried, but her friend did not respond.

Jane took the petticoat and turned away, adding it to the pile of clothes she had already been given. Even if Jane had felt like talking about Lord Ranulph, there was no time for sharing confidences.

The moment had come to finish the packing and the locking of the trunks.

Adella went over to one of the trunks and sat on the lid in a vain attempt to squash down the contents. She had to pull out a thick woollen shawl and a dressing gown and add them to Jane’s pile before the trunk could be closed.

“You will write to me, Jane, won’t you?” Adella asked, as she fastened the lock on the trunk and a sudden rush of butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

The time for her departure was coming closer.

This was the last time she would ever see this place, the charming bedroom that had been her home for so many years. There was no going back now, only forward and onward into her new life.

“Of course.” Jane looked up. “But you will soon forget me, I am sure. You will be so busy. And, Adella, you must not give me all these things. It’s too much!”

“Uncle Edgar will buy me anything I need when I get to London and whatever happens to me, Jane, you will always be in my thoughts.”

Jane looked pale and solemn.

“What do you wish for, Adella, in the years that are to come?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Adella replied. “I’ll wait and see what happens. What do you wish for, Jane?”

“It will never happen, I don’t suppose, but I should like to fall in love, like Mama told me happened with her and Papa. Fall in love and live happily ever after.”

The soft light had come back into Jane’s eyes.

“And would you like him to be handsome? And dashing?” Adella asked.

Jane shut her eyes for second and Adella wondered if her dear, sensible and quiet Jane was thinking about the handsome stranger she had taken tea with yesterday.

“Adella, it will never happen. I shall earn my living as best I can and, if I am very lucky, when I am a middle-aged lady, perhaps some old footman will ask me to be his wife!”

Adella picked up one of the pillows from her bed, and threw it at Jane.

“Rubbish!” she cried. “You are far too pretty. Jane, you will find a beau and be married within a year!”

“We are too old for pillow fights,” Jane laughed, catching the pillow. “But then what about you? Don’t you want to fall in love?

“I suppose so,” Adella answered dreamily.

What did it mean – to fall in love?

Was that what had happened to her yesterday in the Botanical Gardens, when Digby had kissed her?

Was that why she had lain awake for half the night, unable to forget his warm blue eyes gazing into hers?

And why had she been waiting ever since the sun came up this morning for the note he had promised her?

And was that why she felt an uncomfortable, almost panicky sensation in her chest as she rushed to the window every time she heard the squeak of the front gate when someone came to the door?

Had she fallen in love, completely out of the blue, without meaning to at all?

“Jane – I – ”

She was about to tell her friend all about Digby when there was a sharp rap at the bedroom door.

“Miss May?” It was old Pargetter, the maid.

Adella’s heart leapt in anticipation.

“Pargetter! Has someone brought a letter for me?”

The maid shook her head.

“No, indeed, Miss May. Your uncle’s carriage has arrived to take you to London and very fine it be too, Miss May. Fit for a Princess.”

Adella suddenly felt as if she could not breathe and the tight panicky sensation that had been plaguing her all morning threatened to overwhelm her.

“The carriage has come too soon. I can’t go yet – ” she stammered.

Where was Digby’s note?

“Adella, what can be wrong?” Jane was at her side. “You look very pale. Shall I fetch the smelling salts?”

“I am fine. It’s just – I am waiting for – a letter. Or a message – I cannot leave until it has come.”

Mrs. Mottram had joined Pargetter on the landing.

“What was that, Adella?” she wanted to know. “A message? From whom? Your uncle? He will be able to give it you in person just as soon as you arrive in London. Hurry along now, your coachman is waiting.”

She felt dumb with pain and disappointment. She was going to have to leave without the letter that Digby had promised.

He had lied to her!

There was a bustle on the landing as the gardener and his boy came to carry the trunks down.

“What a long face that is, Adella! I suppose you are sad to leave us. But one must count one’s blessings,” Mrs. Mottram said. “And you have many to be grateful for. Come quickly now.”

This was it. The time to leave had finally come and with a hasty goodbye and the quickest of hugs for Jane, Adella found herself stumbling down the stairs, her heart filled with despair.