Hiding from Love (18 page)

His gaze swept across her and she blushed as she realised that she was in her petticoat, which clung damply to her, accentuating the delicate curves of her figure.

Her bodice had slipped down, revealing a creamy white shoulder and she fumbled instinctively to draw it up.

She was forestalled, as Mr. Chandos put out a hand and gently pulled the bodice in place.

Then he was gone, striding off to help three sailors lower one of the two starboard lifeboats.

Before there was time to marvel that it was he who had rescued her yet again, her attention was distracted by the sound of loud shrieking.

Sailors scrambled around on the listing deck, busy securing ropes to the other starboard lifeboat, in which the Professor and his wife sat with Desirée and Mr. Griddle.

The source of the shrieks was Mrs. Griddle clinging stubbornly to the deck rail.

“I won't get in, I won't!  I'm not entrusting my life to that tinderbox!”

“Please get in, Mama,” Desirée pleaded with her.

“I won't!” Mrs. Griddle's voice rose even higher.

“Then I will climb out and stay with you, Mama.”

“You must not!” shouted out a voice from nowhere.  “Let me deal with this.”

Beard tugging in the wind and his hair dishevelled, Robert stepped up to Mrs. Griddle at the rail.

“Who are you?” she demanded.  She peered closer and gave a screech.  “I know you now!  I know you!”

Robert seemed unperturbed that she had recognised him and without further ado he hoisted Mrs. Griddle onto his shoulder and carried her over to the lifeboat, where he dumped her unceremoniously into the prow.

“How dare you, how dare you!” she spluttered.

Desirée clasped her mother closely, as two sailors signalled for the boat to be hauled over the side.

“Wait!” came Mr. Chandos's command.

Leonora, engrossed in the scene before her, had not been aware that he had returned to her side and that Finny was with him.

“I've been looking for you, miss!” panted Finny.

Before she could reply, she found herself picked up in Mr. Chandos's arms and without pausing, he carried her over to the lifeboat and set her down gently.

She had told him she hated him and yet here he was taking infinite pains with her.

Mr. Chandos put a hand on Finny's shoulder.

“Go with Miss Cressy and take good care of her.”

Finny nodded and leaped in beside Leonora.

Mr. Chandos signalled and the lifeboat lurched over the side to the sound of Mrs. Griddle saying her prayers.

It hit the surface and two sailors immediately started rowing it away from the ailing
Teresa of the Sea
.

“I've got your shawl here, miss,” whispered Finny.

Leonora scarcely felt the shawl, as she was glued to the deck where figures ran to and fro.  The second lifeboat was in the air and moving over the side.

Someone yelled from the deck and then clambered onto the rail.

It was Señor de Guarda.  He balanced for a second, judging the distance between ship and swinging boat.

Then he leaped out.  In mid-air he scrabbled for the edge of the lifeboat, missed it and went plunging on down into the fierce waves below.

Mrs. Griddle screamed.

The Señor's head bobbed up out of the water and he raised a despairing hand.

Leonora's hand went to her mouth as Mr. Chandos appeared at the rail.

One look over and he did not hesitate.

He stripped off his jacket, leaped onto the rail and dived into the sea in one bold move.

Leonora felt as if her heart had stopped beating as Mr. Chandos disappeared into the swell.

The lifeboat followed down fast and hit the surface with a crash throwing the passengers about.

Left of the lifeboat both Señor de Guarda and Mr. Chandos had surfaced, but the Señor seemed in a panic.

When Mr. Chandos reached for him, he caught hold so tightly that both went under.  They rose again, gasping for air and then once again the waves swept over them and they were lost from view.

Leonora, watching breathlessly, fainted dead away.

*

Leonora opened her eyes.

She was lying on a couch in a room decorated with yellow walls and she was not alone.

A maid in a white cap sat near an open French window.

“W-where am I?” she asked weakly.

“You are in the Governor's House on the Azores,” said the maid.  “You were brought ashore unconscious six hours ago – after the shipwreck.”

She spoke the words carefully, but its effect was, as she had obviously feared.

Leonora, with a cry of despair as she remembered all, leaped up and stumbled to the long window.

There was the sea and she frantically scanned its blue and unruffled surface.

“Where is the ship!” she moaned.

The maid bit her lip.

“Gone, miss.”

Leonora pressed her hands to her face.

“Gone!  And he is dead.  Mr Chandos is
dead
.”

“No, all were saved.  We sent out boats to help.”

Leonora shook her head disbelievingly.

“No, no. I saw him – drown.  I saw – two drown.” Troubled, the maid twisted her apron in her hand.

“Shall I send for some tea, miss?”

“No.  Excuse me.  I must – still be in shock.”

“Well, if you'll excuse me miss, I was asked to help with the supper.  There are so many extra guests now, as all the people from the ship are invited.”

“Where are they staying?” asked Leonora, glad for a moment to believe that at least Finny and Desirée and all the others were safe.

“Some here and some at Admiral Broughton's.”

“Broughton?”

“Yes.  His niece Maud is staying with him.  She's from England too, miss, like you.  Well I must go, miss.  The Governor's wife said she would call in on you later to bring you a choice of skirts.”

Leonora glanced down, remembering that she was only clad in her white petticoat.

“I – look forward to meeting her,” she said faintly.

The maid then left her and the tears burst forth from Leonora.  She would never have believed it possible to feel so utterly wretched.

She had loved a man, then hated him, then lost him.

Only now did she really understand that love and hate were often one and the same.

She paced the room as if to escape the weight that had gathered in her breast.  She could not.  Her heavy heart went with her from corner to corner.

And now she contemplated how she would have to encounter Maud Broughton, whose face and voice would conjure up such vivid memories.

She became suddenly aware of the room darkening, and turned again towards the window.

She was astonished to see that the sun was sinking on the horizon as fast as a stone dropped into a pool.

Servants appeared with paper lanterns, which they began to hang from various trees.

Soon the garden looked so inviting that she stepped over the low sill and outside.  She shook off her slippers and ran down to the edge of the garden where she could stare at the darkening sea.

“It's quite a sight, is it not, Miss Cressy?”

Leonora whirled round with a cry.

That voice – that oh, so familiar voice – had come from the shadow of the trees.

She scanned them with pounding heart.

Had she heard the voice of a ghost
?

The figure of a man stepped out, a mere silhouette.

Was he real or a figment of desperate imagination?

“My sincere apologies, Miss Cressy.  I do appear to have alarmed you.  It is Lord Merton.”

She flew at him, without thought, without caution.  Flew at him and hammered his breast with her fists.

“You are dead.  I saw you drown.  You are
dead
.”

Catching at her wrists, he gave a wry laugh.

“You may wish I was dead, Miss Cressy, but as you can see – as your fists can feel – I am not.”

He let go and she fell back, panting, her eyes wild.

“And Señor de Guarda?  I saw him drown too.”

Lord Merton shook his head.

“I can assure you he is equally alive and well.  The Professor's sons dragged us both out of the water – at no little risk to themselves, for we were not a light haul!”

It seemed more than Leonora could bear – to have suffered such grief and then see Lord Merton so seemingly nonchalant before her.

She turned away to hide her tears.

“I see you are relieved that the Señor has survived, at any rate,” he observed dryly.

“Certainly I am,” replied Leonora, not untruthfully.

Troublesome as the Señor had been, she would not have wished him harm.  She wiped her eyes quickly and turned back to find Lord Merton watching her closely.

“I heard – you were unconscious for some time.”

“Oh, yes,” she answered as gaily as she could.  “It's a habit of mine, you know.”

Her tone obviously puzzled Lord Merton for there was a long pause.

Then suddenly he grasped her hand tightly.

“Come,” he commanded.

Before she could make a protest, she found herself half dragged across the lawn towards a stone bench that stood facing the bay below.

Here he took hold of her shoulders and forced her down.

“Let me go,” she cried, struggling up.  “I have no wish to stay any longer with Mr. Chandos or Lord Merton or – or whoever you are.”

“Whoever I am?” he laughed.  “It is precisely to clear up that matter that I wish you to stay.”

Intrigued, she hesitated and then sank back down.

With a sigh he seated himself beside her.

“I was well aware of your existence long before I met you, Miss Cressy.”

“H-how?”

“My parents emigrated to Brazil when I was young, but they never lost contact with the family in England.  My mother's sister-in-law wrote to us regularly and mentioned you.  Her name was Cressy – Doris Cressy.”

Leonora gaped.

“Then you are
that
Arthur – Aunt Doris's nephew by marriage?”

“I am.”

“Then that little dog – the Chihuahua was a present for her!  But why did you not introduce yourself when I gave my name to your maid?”

Lord Merton gave a tight smile.

“You were too angry to give me the opportunity!”

Leonora had to admit that that had been indeed the case.

“But,” she persisted, “why did you not reply to my letter of condolence after my aunt died?”

Lord Merton drew in his breath.

“Because I had another reason for visiting England besides your aunt and, as I discovered, you were implicated in that reason in such a way that made a direct encounter between us difficult.”

“What do you – mean?”

Lord Merton clenched his jaw.

“I had a partner in Brazil.  He became ill and felt he should protect the prospects of his daughter in England by appointing a Guardian for her, a Mr. Farthing.  This was a grave error for, when my friend died, Mr. Farthing left my friend's daughter without a penny.  He stole her Trust fund and then disappeared.”

“W-what was your – friend's name?”

“Lyford, and his daughter is called Edith.”

Leonora stared.

Edith Lyford, who had sobbed so when she had to leave Fenfold School!

“But why should the fact that I knew Edith – have made contact between you and I impossible?” she asked.

Lord Merton looked grave.

“When I heard what had befallen my good friend's daughter, I determined to bring this Mr. Farthing to justice.  I hired a detective and soon discovered that Mr. Farthing had remarried under an assumed name.”

Leonora held her breath.

“And that name was – ?”

“
Schilling
.  He had changed his name to Schilling.”

Leonora began to tremble.

“My – stepfather!”

Lord Merton nodded.

“When I heard you call yourself ‘Cressy' that day outside the inn, I immediately guessed who you were and determined to be acquainted with you when the time was right.  Then I arrived at Doris's and learned that her sister, your mother, had married a new husband – a Mr. Schilling!

“So imagine my severe predicament. You were the stepdaughter of the very man I sought to bring to justice.  I had no idea of how to proceed, at least till I knew whether your mother and you were happy with the new connection.  I decided to bide my time and find out more.”

“So – when you came to Broughton Hall – it was to spy on Mr. Schilling?” ventured Leonora hopefully.

Lord Merton threw her a quick glance.

“That was one reason – yes.”

‘No doubt the other reason was Maud Broughton,' thought Leonora glumly. ‘Probably Lord Merton's entire courtship of herself was merely a device to enable him to entrap Mr. Schilling.'

“Why didn't my stepfather realise who you were?”

“Because in his letters to Mr. Farthing, my partner, Lyford, would have referred to me as Mr. Chandos.  I had only recently become Lord Merton, when a distant relative died and bequeathed me his title and estate.  It was as Lord Merton that I first introduced myself to your stepfather.”

Leonora tried to suppress a note of bitterness.

“Yes, at that notorious Club in Bristol.  Where you tried to –
purchase
me!  Like a horse at a country fair.”

He regarded her closely, a twinkle in his eye.

“Forgive me.  In the wild country I come from, it is quite natural to buy your bride.”

“But why –
me
?”

Lord Merton looked away.

“When you revealed that you never wished to use the name of your stepfather, I knew that you hated him as much as I did and I realised then that you and your mother would welcome deliverance from him.

“But I needed to proceed with caution.  I wanted to protect you and your mother from the ignominy attendant on being the wife and stepdaughter of a villain.  I felt that the best way to do that would be to give you the protection of marriage.”