Portrait of Jonathan (19 page)

‘When will the ship leave?' put in Lady Melmoth.

‘Unfortunately, not before tomorrow,' Jonathan replied. ‘We had nothing ready to sail and it cannot possibly leave before noon tomorrow.'

‘Do you think they will release her once they know you've sent a ship out?' she asked.

‘No, I don't,' Jonathan said, ‘for that will not be proof enough for them that we mean to lose the race.'

Later that morning the news that the steamship was now well ahead of the clipper only caused the family greater alarm, when normally they would have been filled with exhilaration.

Jonathan and Giles searched the streets again all that day and when they returned home for dinner late in the evening their dispiritedness and tiredness were self-evident. Worry robbed them all of their appetites, so that the dishes left the table sometimes almost untouched.

‘The number of derelict buildings we've seen,' groaned Giles. ‘Do you really think that's the sort of place they'll keep her in?'

‘They'll not keep her in the obvious places—what else can we do but just look and hope,' murmured Jonathan.

As the family and Lord Rowan moved through the hall from the dining-room, Jonathan went towards the front door.

‘My dear, you're not going out again?' Lady Melmoth said.

‘I cannot stay here whilst there's a chance, however remote, that we might find her.'

Giles followed him.

‘No, Giles, you stay here, you're tired and …'

‘I'm coming with you, Jonathan,' and the tone in his voice refuted all argument.

Out into the darkness they went side by side once more.

‘What do you think of trying one or two of the roads leading right out of London?' Giles said. ‘So far we've just toured the city streets.'

‘Yes, I think perhaps you're right.' He sighed. ‘I don't really think there's much hope we shall find her but I can't sit and wait.'

‘Nor me.'

They took the road which led ultimately to Dover and, after some time, came to the suburbs.

‘This is a part we haven't been before,' said Jonathan and they sat one either side of the vehicle watching out.

They drove for two hours.

‘How far do you think we should go?' muttered Giles, rubbing his shoulder which ached from sitting in the same position so long.

‘I don't know what to … Wilkes, stop!' Jonathan roared suddenly.

‘What is it …?' Giles started to say, but Jonathan had flung open the door of the brougham and leapt out. Giles followed him and saw his brother running along the road towards the small figure of a girl, her white dress shining in the moonlight.

He heard Jonathan's cry of relief.

‘Vinny, Vinny.'

‘Oh Jonathan, Jonathan,' Giles heard her faint cry and saw her stretch out her arms towards Jonathan before she began to fall.

Jonathan reached her and caught her in his arms.

‘My lovely Vinny, what have they done to you, my darling?' he said huskily.

He picked her up and carried her to the brougham. Her arms were about his neck, her head on his shoulder and a gentle smile on her lips. Hardly comprehending his endearments, she knew, nevertheless, that she was safe in his arms.

‘Jonathan, I knew you would come.'

Without warning she fainted.

Jonathan placed her carefully in the brougham and they turned with all speed for home.

‘Will she come round?' Giles asked anxiously, as Jonathan hovered over her.

‘Yes, in a minute I expect. It will be more fatigue than anything I suppose.'

‘How did she come to be here on the road, do you think?'

‘We shall only know when she can tell us. Vinny, Vinny, come along.'

Her eyelids flickered.

‘Where …' she sat up sharply. ‘Don't you lay one finger …' she began.

‘Vinny, steady, it's me,' Jonathan said.

‘Oh Jonathan!' She flung her arms about his neck. ‘I remember now, just for a moment I thought I was back there.'

Jonathan sat beside her, his arms about her. She leaned against him and sighed contentedly.

‘Do you feel all right now?'

‘A bit shaky. You don't mind if I—go to sleep. I'm so very, very tired.'

Before they could reply, she was asleep.

‘Has she fainted again?' Giles asked.

‘No she's sleeping now.'

The return journey was accomplished in an hour for their outward journey had been purposely slow.

Lord Rowan and Lord Melmoth were still up when Jonathan carried the sleeping girl into the house.

‘Jonathan—thank God you've found her,' Lord Rowan hurried forward. He put his hand on Jonathan's shoulder in a gesture of gratitude too deep for words.

‘Is she—hurt?'

‘No, no, I don't think so,' Jonathan replied softly, his eyes never leaving Vinny's face as he laid her gently on the sofa. But now that they could all see her better, they saw that her face was marked with small scratches and an ugly bruise on her forehead. Jonathan felt his anger rise against her captors, that they should have caused her to be hurt in any way at all.

‘Fetch your mother, Giles, she's gone to bed,' Lord Melmoth instructed.

As Giles hurried away the other three men stood looking down at the sleeping girl with thankfulness in their hearts. Jonathan felt Lord Rowan's hand upon his shoulder again and turned to see tears in the older man's eyes.

‘My boy, I can never thank you enough,' and his voice broke.

‘I shall have all the thanks I need as long as she is unharmed,' he murmured, and Lord Rowan looked into his eyes for a moment and saw for himself the depth of Jonathan's feelings for his grand-daughter. He nodded understandingly.

Lady Melmoth entered with Giles following her.

‘Oh, poor child,' she said at once. ‘ Look at the state of her clothes. Jonathan, carry her upstairs and put her in my bed. Giles, send for Doctor Benning. Rupert, show Lord Rowan to the guest room. You must rest now, Wilford.'

Lady Melmoth was once again her usual self, her one thought being to care for the girl once again in her charge almost in the same way as before.

Jonathan carried Lavinia upstairs and having laid her gently on the bed, he found himself shooed out by his mother whilst she and her maid tried to rouse the sleeping girl and help her undress.

The door closed behind him shutting him out. He smiled ruefully to himself—naturally his mother was right, but he had a compelling need to stay with Lavinia, never to let her out of his sight again.

Later, when the doctor had announced that her only injuries were scratches and a few bruises, and, of course exhaustion. Lady Melmoth reported that Lavinia was ready to sleep again after the doctor had examined her, but that she was, although desperately tired, insisting that she should be allowed to see Giles before she slept.

‘Now, only a moment, Giles,' Lady Melmoth told him. ‘The foolish girl will not rest until she has seen you.'

‘Me?' Giles asked incredulously. ‘Are you sure she said me and not …' He hesitated and glanced quickly at Jonathan.

Lady Melmoth, not understanding that Giles, knowing as he did of Lavinia's love for Jonathan, could not believe that it was he and not Jonathan for whom she was asking, replied, ‘Naturally, she wants to see her grandfather, and everyone, later when she's rested. She's so weary, poor child, but she is adamant she must see you.'

Giles saw the hurt in Jonathan's eyes, saw the gentle smile fade from his brother's lips and, in a moment, saw that Jonathan was convinced Lavinia's first thought was for Giles and not for him. Giles sighed. Now it would be even more difficult to bring them together, he thought.

Giles found Lavinia drowsy, willing herself to keep awake until she had seen him.

‘Giles—I just wanted to tell you—not to blame yourself. It was my fault—but I know you'll have been—feeling responsible. Don't worry any more.'

Her eyelids closed.

Lavinia slept soundly through the night and did not wake until four o'clock the following afternoon, when, except for the scratches and bruises on her face and hands, she seemed fully recovered and insisted on rising and dressing for dinner.

When she came downstairs, she found her way firstly to Jonathan's study, hoping to catch him alone. The memory of his words when he had found her had remained with her and she could not help but hope that they may mean something. She opened the door and found him sitting at his desk his head in his hands. Slowly he looked up.

‘Why, Lavinia.' He rose from his desk, but she could not fail to notice his formal use of her name and the reserve in his manner. ‘I am pleased to see you have made a swift recovery.' Lavinia sat down in the chair near the fireplace and he sat down at his desk once more. She looked at him for a long time without speaking. He returned her gaze for a moment then he looked away.

‘Those—scratches and bruises—how did they happen?' A note of sharpness had crept into his tone and she noticed his hand, lying on the desk, clenched and unclenched nervously.

‘I'm not sure—I kept walking into hedges, I think. I escaped and walked all last night—that's why I was so tired. No, the night before that, I escaped—oh dear I've lost track of time.'

He looked at her in astonishment as she continued.

‘I've no idea where they took me—but it was into the country. I was completely lost when I did escape and so afraid they'd come after me that every time I heard something I ducked into a field or into a ditch—hence all the scratches.'

‘Did you walk all the way back?'

‘No—I escaped the night before last and walked until daylight. I think it would be about mid-day when a carriage stopped and the one passenger was kind enough to bring me so far—then I walked again until you found me.'

‘Did they—your captors, I mean—did they mistreat you?'

She glanced down at her hands in her lap and whilst she did so, Jonathan risked another glance at her. It was all he could do to control his emotions, to stop himself taking her in his arms. Last night he had admitted to himself that he loved her. In the darkness he had relived in thought all the time he had known her. It seemed, now that he had admitted it to himself at last, that he had loved her for a long time. He did not believe that it had been ‘love at first sight', but there was no doubt that on that very first evening—so long ago it seemed now—in her parents' house, he had even then felt the beginning of affection. Why else should he have worried about her visit to Myron? Why else should he have been so thankful that her grandfather had taken care of her? He remembered her year in France when he had looked forward to her letters without knowing why himself, without realising why the knowledge that she had met and continued to meet Francis Selwyn distressed him. He recalled the ball when Lady Anthea had so skilfully spoilt the entire evening for him by sending Lord Selwyn to dance with Lavinia. Then, he had only known that he had wanted to be with Vinny, to dance with her and look upon her smiling face and marvel at the change from the waif she had been to the beautiful young girl in his arms. He had not recognised these feelings as the beginning of love. Jonathan had never been sure what it had been that Lavinia had been trying to say to him before Lord Selwyn had whirled her away. He had thought at the time she would prefer Francis Selwyn's company, but now he was not so sure. She had spent the last winter in Warwickshire with no apparent pining for city life and yet, on their last visit the way she had looked at him when Giles had mentioned Lord Selwyn's visits to Lady Anthea had again made him wonder whether she was fond of Francis Selwyn.

Then there was always Giles. Can I be jealous of my own brother? Jonathan had asked himself. In the darkness he had smiled sadly to himself. Giles was the one person to whom he could give Lavinia—if they loved each other—and not be completely heartbroken himself. She was certainly fond of Giles and he of her, but surely if they were in love, it would be acknowledged by now. Yet it was Giles she had asked to see first tonight, he had thought. Sleeplessly he had tossed and turned all night. Giles was certainly more likely to be able to win her love, Jonathan told himself. How could he, Jonathan, some ten years older than her, with an ugly scar down his face, hope to be worthy of her notice? If she were in love with any man, it must be either Giles or Francis Selwyn, he had told himself. In the cold light of dawn he had given up all thought of declaring his love to her. Now, as she sat before him, it was almost more than he could bear to see her sitting there, her lovely face marked by cruel scratches and a bruise on her forehead.

‘No, not really,' she was saying in answer to his question regarding her captors' treatment of her. ‘Jonathan,' her brown eyes sought his. ‘ Your mother told me you were going to send a message to the steamship telling them to lose the race.'

There was a pause.

‘Of course—what did you expect we should do? That was what they demanded.'

‘You would have done that—for me?' she whispered, her eyes glowing.

‘Of course,' he said abruptly. Fear that he would betray his feelings for her made his tone brusque. ‘I would do it for anyone. People are more important than ships.'

Though he spoke the truth, his words told only the half of it.

The light of hope died in her eyes. ‘ Of course,' was all she said.

There was a pause before she said anxiously, ‘The message didn't go, did it? We shall still win?'

Despite the heaviness in his heart, her faith in the steamship pleased and amused him.

He smiled. ‘The ship we were going to send out could not leave before noon today—so we were able to prevent it sailing.'

‘I'm glad—I would have felt awful if—if you'd—we'd lost the race because of me.'

‘I've told you,' he said, ‘that wouldn't have mattered a jot as long as it would have ensured your safety.' His tone was a little sharp again. He could not bear to look at her sitting there looking so forlorn over the thought that he put the steamship before her welfare. If she only knew the truth, he thought, that he would see their whole fleet at the bottom of the sea before he would see a hair of her head harmed. He got up restlessly, afraid to meet her gaze, afraid she would see the passion in his eyes and be embarrassed by it.