Love and the Loathsome Leopard (8 page)

“But – you must not do that – you don’t understand –
they
will not allow you to – remain here.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“I – I cannot tell you – I cannot explain – go – please go – forget you ever – came here.”

“I think that would be impossible,” Lord Cheriton said, “and what is more, speaking as a leopard, I am not afraid.”

“Even a leopard can be captured and – killed.”

There was a little pause before the last word.

“But the war is over,” Lord Cheriton said.

“Not all wars – they go on – forever – and there is no – end to them.”

“That is what we felt in the long years that we were fighting Napoleon, and yet finally he has been defeated.”

“That is true.”

“Supposing we had given up and let him conquer England as he had conquered most of the Continent? Have you any idea what suffering there would have been?”

“Oh, I know – I know!” Wivina said. “I have thought of everything that you are saying now – but the French were an enemy that you could see – it was all straightforward, a fight against a foreign power, against a tyrant who was hated by everyone except the men of his own nationality.”

She paused, then she said with a little sob in her voice,

“But when it is brother against brother – father against son – then it is different.”

“And yet we must still fight against what is wrong and evil,” Lord Cheriton said quietly.

For the first time she looked up at him.

“Now you are speaking like Papa.”

Even as she said the words, she shivered and then said almost beneath her breath,

“He tried to be – brave – he was brave!”

“And they killed him!” Lord Cheriton said very quietly.

“H-how did you know – why do you say that?”

There was a note of abject fear behind the words. Then almost frantically she cried,

“It was an accident – I was told it was an accident! But Papa was always so insistent that we should never go near the very edge of the cliffs, so why – why should he have gone there? It was somewhere he never went at night.”

She sounded so desperate that Lord Cheriton put his hand on hers where it rested on the edge of the stone balustrade.

He felt her fingers tremble beneath his, then her breath seemed a little less hurried and the tumult of her feelings seemed to subside.

“I am – sorry,” she said after a moment.

“What for?” Lord Cheriton asked. “You loved your father, and he died because he spoke his mind and denounced those who are wrong and evil.”

He sensed that this was the truth and he heard Wivina draw in her breath before she replied,

“Now you understand why you must go away.”

“I understand only that I must stay,” Lord Cheriton answered. “I think both you and Richard need me and perhaps so do a number of other people as well”

“What can you do?” she asked. “One man, even a leopard, against – ”

She turned round suddenly.

“You are brave and I admire you for it, but Papa was brave too, and I could not bear to find your – body where we found – his.”

Her eyes looked up into his as she spoke with so deep a passion and emotion in her voice that her words seemed to vibrate on the air between them.

Then they were both very still.

Slowly, almost like the dawn coming up the sky, the colour rose in Wivina’s cheeks as Lord Cheriton lifted her hand and raised it to his lips.

“Thank you, Wivina.”

Again he felt her fingers trembling in his, and he knew that something had happened between them, something strange, but for the moment he was afraid to explain even to himself what it was.

As if she felt the same, Wivina turned and walked from the terrace back into the salon.

She lit the candles one by one and Lord Cheriton sitting down in a chair watched her.

He was thinking as he did so how little he knew about young women, yet even so he was certain that Wivina was different from her contemporaries.

It was not only her beauty and her grace and he had a feeling that while she might be young in years, she was old in many other ways.

She had suffered the loss of her father and mother, she had tried to look after her brother, and she had endured a terror which enveloped their lives – all must have left a mark.

Yet when the candles were lit and she came to sit not on the chair opposite him but on the hearthrug at his feet, he thought how young and helpless she was to cope with the difficulties and problems that confronted her.

“Tell me about yourself,” she said after a moment.

“What do you want to know?”

“So many things that I cannot put into words,” she answered. “Not like Richard, about your experiences in war, but what you think and what you want of life.”

She paused, and then as Lord Cheriton did not speak, she said,

“When I first saw you, I thought there was something hard and perhaps cruel about you. Then when we talked together I realised it was a reserve which you wear like an armour so that people should not encroach too closely on what you do not wish them to know.”

Lord Cheriton looked at her in astonishment, before he realised she was speaking not of his work but of him as a man.

He thought that of all the women he had ever known, none had ever sensed that his harshness and ruthlessness stemmed from a reserve he had assumed ever since running away from home at the age of fourteen.

“I think,” Wivina was saying in her soft voice, “perhaps you restrain your affection for people and life because you are afraid of being hurt.”

It was so true that Lord Cheriton drew in his breath, as Wivina continued,

“I can understand your feeling like that, because it is what I feel myself. Loving Papa and losing him was so agonising that in a way I wished I had not loved him so much.”

She looked up at Lord Cheriton and looked away again as she went on,

“You will think it is foolish of me to love this house, since because I love it so much I am vulnerable. Perhaps I should go away and live somewhere else, simply because every day I remain here it will hurt me more when I have to leave.”

She spoke seriously, then she gave a little laugh.

“I am not expressing myself at all well and you will think I am very foolish.”

“I think you have expressed yourself extremely well and you are not in the least foolish. I am only surprised, Wivina, that you should be so perceptive.”

“About – you?”

“About me, and about yourself. Most people flutter like butterflies on the surface of life. They don’t think deeply, nor do they wish to do so.”

“To think deeply and to feel deeply is to risk being hurt.”

That was what had happened to him, Lord Cheriton thought, but he had never expected a woman, least of all a young girl, to understand or to feel the same.

Aloud he said,

“Because our minds move in the same way, I think it important, Wivina, that we should try to help each other. And if we are to do that we must talk frankly and without pretence.”

There was a little pause before she said in little above a whisper,

“I would like to do that, but I am afraid – and we have only just met.”

“But you are wise enough to know that time has very little to do with such things,” Lord Cheriton replied. “You may be with a man or a woman for years and know as little about them as when you first met.”

“That is true,” Wivina conceded, “but with other people you are aware that they are – cruel and evil – and they are reaching out towards you – and you want to run away – but your feet will not carry you.”

She was trembling as she spoke and she bent her head so that her words were almost inaudible.

Then as he bent towards her to reply, the door of the salon was suddenly flung open and someone came hurriedly into the room.

Both Lord Cheriton and Wivina looked up startled from where they sat at the hearth, and for a moment it was difficult to see who stood there in the shadows, although they both knew who it was.

Jeffrey Farlow came towards them and Lord Cheriton knew that Wivina was suddenly rigid, her eyes watching the man as if she was a small animal mesmerised by the stealthy approach of a tiger.

Jeffrey Farlow reached the hearthrug, and now, seeing him full-face for the first time, Lord Cheriton realised that he was as evil-looking as he had thought when he saw him through the crack in the door.

He still wore his hat on the side of his head and his clothes told Lord Cheriton that he aped a gentleman, while his coarse features and thick fingers proclaimed all too clearly the stock he had come from.

“So – you are still here!” he said abruptly to Lord Cheriton.

“I don’t think I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance,” Lord Cheriton replied. “My name is Bradleigh – Stuart Bradleigh.”

“So I have heard. You were a Captain in the Army.”

“That is right”

“Well, we’ve no work here and less accommodation for soldiers who’ve been demobilised and are now expecting their King and country to keep them in luxury.”

There was no mistaking the offensive note in Jeffrey Farlow’s voice, but Lord Cheriton replied good humouredly,

“I am, as it happens, quite capable of keeping myself. What I am looking for is somewhere to settle down.”

“It’ll not be here!” Jeffrey Farlow said. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Indeed? And why should I do that?”

“Because I tell you to
and
what I say round here goes!”

There was a note in Jeffrey Farlow’s voice that told Lord Cheriton that actually he felt on the defensive and was struggling to assert his authority.

Without being conceited, Lord Cheriton was aware that he had a strong, almost overwhelming presence, which he had developed as a leader of men and, because he had confidence in himself, he created a recognisable aura for those who were his inferiors.

Sitting at his ease in the armchair, he was well aware that the man standing looking at him was feeling unaccountably uncomfortable and in consequence infuriated.

“I was not aware that you owned this house,” Lord Cheriton said slowly.

“That has nothing to do with it,” Jeffrey Farlow replied. “We don’t like strangers in Larkswell, and if they don’t obey what you would term their ‘marching orders,’ they soon find they are sorry!”

Wivina made a little sound.

“Please do not speak like that,” she pleaded. “Captain Bradleigh is a friend of Lord Cheriton’s, and you know how important it is that we should not be turned out of Larks Hall.”

“It’s not important as far as I’m concerned,” Jeffrey Farlow answered, “and there’s another house waiting for you, as you well know.”

Wivina made a little incoherent sound and looked away.

“Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise,” Jeffrey Farlow went on. “Let this man take over this tumbledown ruin and you come to Farlow House as I have asked you to do often enough.”

“And I have always refused,” Wivina said quickly.

“You’re playing hard-to-get and who shall blame you?” he retorted. “But you’ll have to give in in the end.”

Wivina shook her head, but he only smiled unpleasantly before saying:

“I’ll make a bargain with you. Send this soldier packing and I’ll give you another week or so to think things over. If not, I’ll fetch you tomorrow evening, and, make no mistake, I mean what I say!”

Slowly Lord Cheriton rose to his feet.

He was considerably taller than Jeffrey Farlow and seemed to tower over him.

“I wish you to give no ultimatums that concern me,” he said. “I am here as Miss Compton’s guest and if she wishes me to leave I will do so – tonight, if necessary.”

“No, of course not!” Wivina said. “Captain Bradleigh is right, Mr. Farlow, you should not speak to him in such a manner, nor will I bargain with you.”

Almost as if she was unaware of what she was doing and was simply guided by instinct, she took a step nearer to Lord Cheriton before she said,

“I told you before that I will not marry you. In fact I would rather die than do so! You will not dictate my life for me nor interfere with whom I entertain or do not entertain. Please leave! I did not invite you here this evening!”

For a moment there was no mistaking the fact that her words and her courage both surprised and in fact astounded Jeffrey Farlow.

He stared as if he could not have heard aright, then he threw back his head and laughed.

“Dutch courage!” he sneered. “Well, well! This is something you have been singularly lacking in before. I wonder what could have inspired it?”

He looked at Lord Cheriton menacingly.

Then he said,

“We will talk about our marriage, Wivina, when your soldier friend has left. As you are well aware, I don’t take no for an answer. You’ll marry me – make no mistake – you’ll marry me!”

He laughed again.

Then, as if to emphasize his dramatic behaviour, he turned and walked from the salon, and they heard him laughing again as he crossed the hall.

For a moment there was silence, then with a little cry that seemed to come from the very depths of her heart, Wivina cried,

“Help me – please help me!” and turned towards Lord Cheriton.

Without thought, almost as if it was inevitable, her face was hidden against his shoulder and his arms went round her.

He could feel her trembling and realised how small, slight and fragile she was.

“What can I do – what can I do?” she asked after a moment. “He will kill you unless you leave – so go – go tonight.”

“And leave you alone?” Lord Cheriton asked in his deep voice.

“You cannot help me – nobody can!” Wivina said. “I have known for a long time that he would force me by some means or another to – marry him, but I will not – do so – and–”

She shuddered in a way which told Lord Cheriton exactly what she was thinking.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked her.

“A long time – and when we came here after Papa – died, he began to build a house, which he said was for me.”

She gave a little sigh.

“He wants to show off – for everyone to know how rich and important he is.”