Lucky Logan Finds Love (13 page)

She gave the note to one of the footmen and to the other she said,

“Outside the gates you will find a Hackney Carriage that I know is there, because I saw it a moment or so ago. Will you please ask the driver to come round to the front door and have my trunk fetched from my room. I have to leave unexpectedly.”

The footman looked surprised, but he was trained to do as he was told.

He ran off towards the gate, whilst the other footman put down the note for Lady Logan on a table and went upstairs for Belinda’s trunk.

A few minutes later she drove away and she told herself that she had wasted very little time and her stepfather could not really blame her for bringing her belongings with her.

She had no idea where she was going, but obviously the driver of the Hackney carriage did.

They went quite some distance through several large squares until he drew up in a narrow street and Belinda vaguely thought from what she had learned of London that it was not far from Piccadilly.

As the horses came to a standstill, she saw a little farther up the street a familiar face.

It was George, who had come to the country with her stepfather.

She saw that he was standing beside the horses which had brought her to London.

She did not wait to speak to George, but hurried from the Hackney carriage to the door of the house.

To her surprise, it was open and even stranger there was no servant in attendance.

There was a very narrow hallway and staircase immediately in front of her.

She could hear men’s voices and laughter.

She realised that the flat where she thought she would find her stepfather was upstairs. There appeared to be only a door below which would lead down to the basement.

She walked tentatively up the stairs, hoping she had come to the right place.

It was obvious from the din that her stepfather was entertaining or being entertained by friends.

She reached the landing.

Ahead of her was an open door. Through it she saw a large room that seemed to be filled with men.

She hesitated.

She looked frantically for D’Arcy Rowland and then she saw him lying back in an armchair, a glass in his hand.

He raised it and shouted so that he could be heard above the noise,

“A toast! A toast! To ‘Lucky D’Arcy’ – raise your glasses!”

There was a shout of laughter.

The men, and there must have been about ten of them, lifted their glasses and shouted,

“To ‘Lucky D’Arcy’ – for he’s a jolly good fellow!”

Because she felt shy of intruding, Belinda waited.

Then a door on her left opened.

She saw a man who looked like a valet or a porter standing there.

Behind him was a bedroom where she imagined her stepfather must have been sleeping.

She moved to the doorway, saying as she did,

“May I speak to you for a moment?”

The man opened the door fully for her and Belinda walked into the room, far enough into the room to be able to speak without her voice being lost in the noise coming from the sitting room.

“I am the stepdaughter of Captain D’Arcy Rowland,” she explained, “and I would like to speak to him alone.”

The man, who was middle-aged, smiled.

“Then you be Miss Belinda Wyncombe!” he said. “I’ve ’eard the Cap’n speak of you. I looks after ’im when ’e can afford it. ’E be very ’appy at the moment.”

“What has happened?” Belinda asked tentatively.

“I ’spect the Cap’n’ill want to tell you ’isself,” the man replied, but ’e’s jest come into a fortune and comes back ’ere with ’is friends in tow wiv a case of champagne and ’e’s got no time for anythin’ else.”

“He has come into a fortune?” Belinda repeated beneath her breath.

“S’right, miss. Some mine as be in Arizona or some such place. It’s turned out to be full of gold and the Cap’n thinks ’e’s the richest man on earth!”

“Oh, I
am
glad!” Belinda exclaimed.

There was a sudden burst of laughter in the room next door.

Then the men were singing, although she did not recognise the song.

“What I suggests you do, miss,” the valet said in a fatherly tone, “be to come back when ’e’ll be more like ’isself.”

He grinned before he added,

“There be a lot of bottles still unopened.”

“I am sure you are right,” Belinda murmured.

If her stepfather’s mine had ‘turned up trumps’, then there was no need for him to be told where Marcus Logan had been.

The valet, without saying any more, walked out onto the landing and closed the door into the sitting room.

He took her down the stairs, letting her escape without any of the men seeing her.

“Thank you,” Belinda said.

Then, as she started to go outside, she stopped.

“Did Captain Rowland come back here in a carriage drawn by two horses,” she asked, “which he borrowed several days ago?”

“That’s right, miss.” the valet replied, “and I don’t suppose ’e’ll be wantin’ it again today.”

Belinda hesitated and then she said,

“Would it be possible for you to loan me two sovereigns which you can get back from my stepfather later?”

“’Course, miss!” the man said breezily. “I ’spect you’re as skint as the Cap’n bin this last week. Thing’s a-gonna be better now – much better!”

There was a glint in the valet’s eyes. It told Belinda that he was hoping to benefit from his Master’s new found wealth.

He pulled two sovereigns out of his pocket and put them into her hand.

“Thank you! Thank you very much!” Belinda said. “I am very, very grateful to you.”

“That be all right, miss and you come back tomorrow. I’ll tell the Cap’n you called.”

Belinda did not answer, but hurried out into the street.

The Hackney carriage was nowhere in sight and she guessed that her stepfather would somehow have paid him in advance.

She wondered how he had managed to do so.

George was still there and she went up to him.

“The Captain will not be requiring you any more today, George, and I wonder if you would be kind enough to take me home.”

“Home, miss?” George asked in surprise.

“I know it is a long way. Are the horses up to it?”

George nodded.

“They’ll be all right, miss. I’ll take ’em gentle like.”

“Then let us go,” Belinda suggested. “I have some money for you if you will do this for me.”

“Aw, that’s all right, miss.”

Belinda, however, was thinking that they might want to stop for something to eat along the way.

She, fortunately, had had luncheon, but she doubted if George, having been driving her stepfather, would have had anything since breakfast.

She climbed into the chaise and George picked up the reins.

Then they were off.

As they drove out of London, Belinda was thinking that she was driving away from the greatest adventure she had ever had.

It was something she had never expected, but she would never forget it.

She could still feel the rapture that had enveloped her when Marcus Logan had kissed her and she knew it would remain with her for the rest of her life.

Belinda arrived home as the sun was sinking and the birds were going to roost.

The horses were tired, but they had given them a short rest at a Posting inn.

Belinda had insisted on George having something to eat, whilst she had ordered only coffee for herself, thinking it extravagant when she had so little money.

She intended at the end of the journey to give George one of the sovereigns.

That would leave ten shillings for Mrs. Bates to buy the food she would require the next day.

It might be some time, she thought, before her stepfather came home.

At least she need not be afraid now of losing the house that belonged to her.

After Bates had welcomed her back, she went straight to bed.

She was very tired, but she lay awake, thinking that everything that had happened was like a dream.

The wonderful thing was that her stepfather’s good luck had saved them both from the horror of what might have happened.

By a miracle his mine had, after all, produced gold.

‘Step-Papa will come home soon and tell me all about it,’ Belinda thought.

Then after she had bravely kept her emotions under control for so long, the tears came.

She wept because she would never see Marcus Logan again.

She wept because she was alone.

Her mother, she believed, had saved her and her stepfather from poverty.

Yet she would not be able to save her now from a misery that was like a dagger piercing her heart.

A long time later, pretending that Marcus Logan’s lips were on hers and his arms were holding her, she fell asleep.

*

The next morning Belinda was ashamed of her tears.

She was ashamed, too, of her yearning for a man who she was certain would never think of her again.

He would have come back from the City, having ensured that, through his discovery, the people of Zenjira would be prosperous and they would be able to resist any aggressive movements by the Russians.

‘So why,’ she asked, ‘should he be interested in me?’

She had already told herself a hundred times that he had kissed her out of gratitude and for no other reason.

‘I had only just met him,’ she reasoned. ‘He must have met thousands of women on his travels, who were far more interesting than I could ever be.’

Mrs. Bates called as she always did at half past eight.

Belinda got up and went downstairs.

The flowers had died in the drawing room, so she emptied the vases and went into the garden to pick some more.

She tried not to think of how beautiful the garden was in Regent’s Park.

She tried, too, to ignore the fact that so many things in her own home were dilapidated and they could not be compared with the perfection of Marcus Logan’s fabulous possessions.

He had said that what he had collected was a frame for his mother.

‘He would be very attentive and kind to his wife, if he had one,’ Belinda thought and she shied away from the thought of Marcus Logan kissing another woman as he had kissed her.

She went into her father’s study and found the carving of the tiger from Zenjira and it was almost identical to the one Lady Logan had shown her.

She took it from the shelf and held it in her hands.

She was thinking of how important her discovery would have been had not the good news of the gold mine in Arizona reached her stepfather first.

‘I am glad, so very glad,’ she thought, ‘that although was I was prepared to betray Marcus Logan, in the end there was no necessity for me to do so.’

She put the tiger back in its place on the shelf and went out again into the garden.

The beauty of the flowers and trees somehow comforted her.

It had comforted her when her mother had died. Again her mind was working and telling her that she could still, in her own way, be in touch with her mother.

But she would never be able to reach Marcus Logan.

‘He is haunting me!’ she thought angrily.

There was, however, nothing she could do about it.

As if Mrs. Bates knew how wretched Belinda felt, she cooked her favourite dishes for luncheon and dinner.

She found it almost impossible to eat.

But as she did not want to hurt Mrs. Bates’s feelings, she managed to slip some of the food at both meals into her napkin and she then went down to the bottom of the garden to leave it for the birds.

When she went up to bed, she felt that it was the longest day she had ever spent.

The loneliness was intolerable!

‘When Step-Papa arrives,’ she decided, ‘I will tell him that I want to go away. If he is really so rich, perhaps he could arrange for us to visit France or other parts of Europe.’

Then she knew with a sinking of her heart that the last thing her stepfather would want to do would be to leave England.

He would wish to remain in London, enjoying himself with his friends, still, in his own way, trying to forget her mother.

‘What can I do?’ she asked the stars before she went to bed and the rising sun when she got up.

To occupy herself she picked even more flowers.

She filled all the vases in the house and made every room look beautiful.

The fragrance of roses filled the hall and the staircase and welcomed anybody who came in through the front door.

“Now, Miss Belinda, what would you like to eat today?” Mrs. Bates asked her.

Belinda longed to say that she wanted nothing, but she knew that would upset her.

“I would like you to surprise me,” she answered finally, “and thank you both for being so kind.”

“Bates and I be worried about you,” Mrs. Bates replied. “It ain’t like you, Miss Belinda, to be so quiet and look so pale.”

“I will soon be all right,” Belinda replied. “The long journey to London and back has upset me.”

“It’d upset anybody,” Bates said. “And London ain’t the right place for you, Miss Belinda, and that’s the truth!”

After a luncheon that she had to force herself to eat, Belinda went into her father’s study.

She picked up the tiger again and sat holding it in her hands.

She was imagining Marcus Logan buying it in Zenjira, having used his intuition to find diamonds or it might have been gold.

Anything that would bring prosperity to the people who were so poor.

‘Only
he
would do anything so wonderful,’ she mused.

She gently stroked the wooden back of the tiger.

Because she was thinking of Marcus, the tears were once again flooding into her eyes.

As she tried to prevent herself from crying, she heard the door open.

She had no wish for Bates to see her tears and hastily she climbed to her feet.

She walked towards the shelf, intending to replace the tiger.

She wondered why Bates was standing silent just inside the room and turned her head.

Then she was still.

It was almost as if she was turned to stone with the tiger still in her hand.

It was
Marcus Logan
who stood there.

He did not speak.