Pride of the Courtneys (15 page)

At last the exacting day was over and as I stepped out of my finery in
the dressing-room adjoining the bridal chamber, an involuntary shudder
shook me as I pictured the years of misery which lay ahead of me.
Marriage, so I believed, was sacred and for ever. I felt ashamed and
guilty to think that our marriage was a shallow tying together of two
people who felt no love for each other. But, I comforted myself, so many
marriages of convenience lacked true love, at least at the outset. Some,
luckily, grew to love, but for every one that did, there was certainly one
which did not.

I was weary with the day’s ceremonies, tired of being looked upon as the
happy, blushing bride, when, in fact, I was inwardly still seething with
anger against the man who had brought it about—Bassett Courtney.

With Mary’s help once more, I changed into the finely embroidered
nightgown. Now we were in the suite of rooms prepared for Bassett and his
bride. Bassett had arranged that we had separate but adjoining bedrooms.
So it was that I sat in my bedroom, after Mary had left me, fearfully
watching the communicating door which I knew would open.

The room was tastefully decorated and furnished in the luxurious style
typical of the Courtneys, and the bed, from which I kept my frightened
eyes averted, was ornamented and heavily quilted with fine, embroidered
silk.

A gentle tap sounded on the communicating door and without waiting for a
reply, it opened and the master of Courtney Hall stood there.

It seemed an age that we stared at each other,
Bassett with a cold mask of indifference on his face—I showing my fear
plainly. He came towards me slowly and I felt panic surge up inside me,
but I willed myself to calmness and met his gaze steadfastly.

Bassett stretched out his hand and touched my
cheek tenderly in a caress. I was surprised at a display of gentleness
from him, but still the hard expression on his face remained.
‘Poor child,’ he said softly, ‘forced to marry a man you despise.’
It was not a question but a statement and I did not contradict him. He
touched my hair and his hand rested lightly on my shoulder.
‘I make no further demands upon you, Louella,’ he said, his voice
strangely hoarse, as if he were suffering stress, ‘until such time as you
might—wish it.’
Abruptly he turned and left me, and the door to his room closed behind
him.

The emotions of the day, this last unexpected act
of gallantry by Bassett, were too much to bear.

I fell into bed. And I, who never wept, sobbed
myself to sleep.

Life at Courtney Hall began to revert to normal, that
is, in most respects. I was treated as I had been when I first arrived.
There were slight differences, of course.

I was now Mrs Courtney—though in name only—and the servants and villagers
treated me with the respect which my newly acquired name demanded.

Millicent, a frequent visitor to the Hall, was hardly ever absent from it
for long. She and Lady Courtney still derided and scorned me whenever
possible, so that I avoided their company as much as I could. This was
easier than before, now that Bassett and I had the west wing of the great
house as our own suite of rooms, though Bassett used them little.

I, on the other hand, was glad of a means of escape and my rooms were my
castle.

Georgiana and Charles came to live at Courtney Hall eventually as life in
the Corby house, with Evelyn, began to put a great strain upon their
marriage. The Courtneys had now forgiven Georgiana and Charles for their
elopement and had in fact accepted Charles completely. So the east wing of
the Hall was put aside for their use. My friendship with them in those
lonely days was, I believe, the only thing which saved my sanity. But I
could not presume too much on their time for a young couple so much in
love needed to be alone, and as Charles was fast becoming the most popular
doctor in the surrounding district, their leisure moments were few.

I hardly saw my husband for when he was not engaged in the affairs of the
estate he delighted in accompanying either Millicent or Evelyn on carriage
expeditions or riding.

Never once did he ask me to go with him. Never once did he give any
explanation of his activities. He seems to delight, I thought angrily as I
watched Bassett, Evelyn and Millicent ride away one afternoon, in ignoring
me now. Safely married, he can now flirt with whom he pleases.

I felt the tears prick my eyelids. It’s not that I’m jealous of them, I
told myself, for jealousy surely only arises from love, but to be spurned
thus—what must the villagers be saying?

But it was probable that the villagers, if they did see him in the
company of either Millicent or Evelyn or both, saw nothing wrong, for was
not Millicent his cousin and Evelyn his sister-in-law almost? And no
villager, all of whom without exception I knew worshipped their young
master, would think ill of Bassett until it hit them in the face.

During the next few weeks I passed through a dreadful time of loneliness
and depression.

Married to a man I loathed, branded by his mother as an unwanted burden
and a thief, and always, lurking in the background, was the mystery
surrounding my mother and the Courtney family.

Lady Courtney still retained full charge of the household management and
there was little for me to do.

It was during this time that I became closer than ever to Sir Hugh.
During the warm days of autumn he would often, when he could tear himself
away from his books, take walks with me, usually along the river bank.

He was a gentle man and he delighted in talking about the poets and
writers whose works he loved.

Occasionally, he would mention his family, but only some casual remark
about recent happenings. Though I longed to ask him about the mystery
which seemed to surround myself and the Courtneys, I dare not broach the
subject directly, and though I was sometimes able to turn the conversation
towards the Courtney ancestry, never, unfortunately, did Sir Hugh let slip
any remark which would throw light upon the matter for me.

It was when the weather began to turn considerably colder towards the
beginning of November that I first noticed a marked change in Sir Hugh’s
health. His hands began to shake and his speech was sometimes slurred. No
other member of the family seemed to notice this and I said nothing as I
told myself it was probably merely a sign of his age and not of ill
health.

But on entering his study one November morning to ask him if he cared to
come with me on a brisk walk to the river, I found him grasping the arm of
his chair, his face purple, his breathing a rasping sound dragged
painfully through his parted lips.

Frightened though I was, I managed to loosen his collar and to get him to
lay back in his chair whilst I ran for help.

Fortunately, Bassett was just entering the hall as I flew out of his
father’s study.

‘Bassett, come quickly. Your father is ill.’

He hurried towards me, alarm showing plainly on his face and we entered
the study together.

‘Fetch Jonathan and Charles, if he’s at home,’ said Bassett.

Quickly I ran in search of Jonathan, Sir Hugh’s personal manservant, and
having explained to him, I again ran on, through the corridors, up the
wide stairs and along to the east wing.

Georgiana answered my impatient knock.

‘Is Charles at home?’ I said breathlessly.

‘Yes, but …’

‘Ask him to come quickly, it’s your father, Georgiana, he’s ill.’

‘Charles,’ Georgiana ran to her husband and he rose immediately from the
desk where he was writing and took her hands.

‘What is it, dearest?’

‘It’s my father. Louella says he is ill.’ Without hesitate, Charles ran
the way I had come whilst Georgiana and I hastened after him, pausing only
whilst she questioned me.

‘Is he—very bad, Louella?’ and her lower lip
trembled.
‘I didn’t stay to see. I must be honest I made him as comfortable as I
could then I ran to find—someone.’

I hesitated as I said the last word, for it
suddenly struck me that when I had hurried from Sir Hugh’s side in search
of help, there had been one person on my mind—Bassett.
Even though I feared him, I acknowledged to myself that it was to him I
knew I could run in trouble and in him find strength and help.
When we reached the hall, Charles and Bassett were helping Sir Hugh to his
bedroom.

Old Jonathan hovered anxiously behind his master.
Sir Hugh looked a little better than when I had first found him, but still
he could not walk without assistance.

Later, comfortably settled in bed, Sir Hugh seemed
much better, so Charles told us when he came in to the drawing-room, where
we were all waiting for him.
Lady Courtney, who had now been told about her husband’s illness, was the
first to voice what was uppermost in all our minds.

‘Have you any idea what it is?’
‘As far as I can tell after a preliminary examination, it seem Sir Hugh
has had a heart attack.’

Lady Courtney gasped.
‘Serious?’ asked Bassett.
‘Not this one, but I’m afraid there may be more, each successively more
serious and then, I am afraid …’

Charles did not need to finish for we all knew the
full meaning behind his words.

Georgiana began to cry quietly and Charles crossed
the room to comfort her.

‘I’m sorry, my dear, perhaps I should not have told
you.’
But Georgiana shook her head.
‘No, Charles. I’d rather know.’

‘Is there anything we can do?’ said Lady Courtney. ‘Bassett, should we
call in a heart specialist?’

Bassett looked enquiringly at Charles.

‘Don’t think we underestimate your capabilities, Charles, but do you
think? …’

‘Of course, Bassett, you must do whatever you wish. Perhaps it would be
as well since I am so closely connected if Sir Hugh were to be attended by
another physician.’ His arm went about Georgiana. ‘In fact, I’d prefer it.
Sir Joshua Fotheringhay is one of the best authorities I know on heart
ailments. He lives but fifty miles from here. I’ll set out immediately to
fetch him.’

‘No—no,’ said Bassett, ‘it’s good of you, but it would be better if you
stayed here.’

He thought quickly.

‘One of my men from the village will go willingly, I am sure.’

‘Then I will write an explanatory letter to him,’ said Charles.

‘That’s a good idea.’

And they left the room together.

I turned to see Lady Courtney glaring at me.

‘See what trouble you have brought upon us by your deception?’

For a moment I could not understand. Then I realised she was blaming the
disappearance of the Courtney dagger for Sir Hugh’s illness. And, of
course, as she believed I had stolen it, I was the cause.

Bassett returned at that moment and so she said no more.

Sir Joshua arrived the next day, but he merely
confirmed Charles’ diagnosis.

He had an important medical conference to attend and could stay no longer
than a few hours. Even the Courtney wealth could not buy the attention of
this eminent main, whose devotion to the medical profession, would surely
go down in history.

‘There is little point in my staying, Mr Courtney. Your brother-in-law,
Dr Corby, is a most capable young man. And I am afraid there is little I
can do in Sir Hugh’s case.’

The grey haired man shook his head sadly.

‘I’m very sorry.’ He cleared his throat and added briskly, ‘ I’ve given
Dr Corby detailed instructions as to exactly what may be done in any
event. I’ll come again in four days.’

‘Thank you. Sir Joshua, it was good of you to come so quickly,’ Bassett
replied.

‘Not at all, I only wish there was more I could do.’

So it was that the great physician left an unhappy household. There was
little we could do and each day Sir Hugh sank lower. He had three more
quite severe attacks and eventually, he would lapse into unconsciousness.

When he roused again he would become restless and fretful and would shout
and ramble incessantly about his past life, his wife and my mother and
other names, including his parents.

Early on the fourth morning after Sir Hugh had first been taken ill, I
was awakened by a soft knock on my bedroom door. The pale light of dawn
was only just beginning to glimmer through the curtains as I opened the
door to find Bassett, his face tired and strained, his hair rumpled,
standing there.

‘Louella, I’m sorry to wake you. But father is in a very distressed state
calling for Victoria.’ He paused and said softly, ‘I think perhaps if you
would come, it might calm him.’

‘Of course, Bassett, I’ll come at once.’

I fetched my wrap and followed Bassett along the dimly lit corridor.
Since Sir Hugh’s illness, the corridor candles were kept burning
throughout the night.

As I entered the sick-room, I was shocked to see the change in Sir Hugh.
I had been to visit him several times during his illness, but mostly I had
found him asleep. Now, for the first time, I was to see him threshing
about the bed—his face shrunken and lined with suffering, his eyes wide
and staring, and his brow wet with fever.

I took his hot hand in mine and spoke softly, and, I hope, soothingly.

Miraculously, it seemed to me, he began to quieten.

‘Victoria,’ he whispered, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘I’ve come to help you get well again.’

‘Mama will not like you coming here—does she know?’

How could I answer him—I could not understand the meaning of his words. I
looked enquiringly at Bassett.

He shook his head as if to tell me to reply negatively.

‘No,’ I told Sir Hugh, ‘she doesn’t know, and she won’t find out. Now you
lie quietly and try to sleep. You mustn’t distress yourself so.’

Sir Hugh’s pale lips parted in an effort to smile.

‘Dear Victoria, your word is my command, always.’

And he slept.

I sighed with relief.