Part 19 (2/2)

He had gone on to Carlton House, which was understandable, but no one had heard anything of him since, and now sitting in the stagecoach Torilla could not help wondering if perhaps he felt humiliated by what had occurred. Certainly it had given the gossips something to sn.i.g.g.e.r about and Torilla was sure that it was the main topic of conversation from St. James Street to Chelsea.

Up to the last moment of leaving London she had wondered and hoped, but there had been nothing for her except two letters from Barrowfield, the first being from her father. His letter was ecstatic with a happiness she had not seen in him since her mother died.

Buddle air pumps were being installed in the mine, new machinery introduced to remove the water, the props had all been reinforced or replaced. Davy safety lamps were provided and the miners themselves could hardly believe the difference that increased wages had made in their lives.

It was left, however for Abby to tell Torilla that her father was in much better health than when she had left Barrowfield.

'The Master's putting on weight,' Abby wrote, 'which is due to the fact that he is no longer so worried about the sick and needy.

'The Relief Fund which his Lords.h.i.+p set up has lifted from him the care of the children, the crippled and the very old. But them c.o.xwolds, of course, are still getting more than their fair share!'

Torilla had laughed, knowing how much Abby resented the manner in which the c.o.xwolds extorted money from her father, then went on reading, 'I expect you know his Lords.h.i.+p's doubled the Master's stipend and now I've got two young girls to help me in the house and the food is like your dear mother used to order when we lived in Hertfords.h.i.+re.'

Torilla had given a little sigh of satisfaction.

Then she asked herself, as she had so often done before, whether any man could be so wonderful, so kind or so generous as the Marquis had been.

'I want to thank him,' she thought and wondered almost despairingly whether she would ever have the opportunity. The stagecoach drew up outside The Royal George and the pa.s.sengers hurriedly climbed out.

”Twenty minutes, ladies and gent'men!” the guard said and everyone rushed into the inn determined to be served first.

It was only as she alighted, carrying her small valise, that Torilla realised the mess the child had made of her gown, and that after sitting for so long she felt hot and uncomfortable.

Inside the inn she asked a chambermaid if there was a room where she could change and was taken upstairs to a bedchamber that was not in use.

Torilla did not hurry. She knew that the food would not be very appetising and she was not particularly hungry.

She washed in cold water, then, taking a fresh gown from her valise that she had intended to put on for supper that evening, she took off the one which showed all too clearly the imprint of chocolate-covered fingers.

She tidied her hair in the mirror and saw her eyes wide and worried and with a suspicion of sadness in their depths looking back at her.

'Perhaps he does not a want me any a more?' she questioned and turned away because it was an agony even to imagine such a thing.

It was so hot that she did not put on her bonnet, but, carrying it with her valise, she went downstairs again.

There would only be time now, she thought, to ask for a cup of tea.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs she found the landlord waiting for her.

”This way please, madam,” he said.

She put down her valise, thinking she would pick it up when she came from the coffee room.

The landlord opened a door and she walked in.

Only when she was inside did she realise that she was in an empty room except for one person standing at the far end of it.

He turned to face her and for a moment neither of them could move.

Without speaking the Marquis held out his arms and she ran towards him like a homing pigeon.

He held her so tightly that it was hard to breathe.

As Torilla raised her eyes to his, he looked down into them and she felt a thousand candles suddenly light the whole room.

Then he was kissing her wildly, frantically, pa.s.sionately as if they had stood on the brink of disaster and yet by some miracle had been saved from destruction.

It was as marvellous and Divine as the kiss he had given her before, but now it was more intense, more poignant, and she knew that her love was a force that had grown so strong that it was like a tempestuous sea or a burning fire.

'I love you! I love you!' she wanted to cry out.

But the Marquis's lips drew her heart from her body and made it his and there was nothing in the world but him and he was Love itself.

Only after a long, long time did he raise his head to say in a voice deep and unsteady, ”My precious, my little love, I thought I had lost you.”

”Oh, Gallen!”

She hid her face as she spoke against his shoulder and the tears were running down her face from sheer happiness.

”It is all right my darling,” the Marquis said. ”It is all over,”

He kissed her hair as he added ”I am so grateful, so unspeakably grateful, that the agony has pa.s.sed and we can be together.”

”To-gether?”

Torilla echoed the words through her tears.

Then he kissed her again, a long slow possessive kiss, which made her feel as if her whole body melted into his a Some time later they sat at a small table and ate and drank, although what it was Torilla had no idea.

She could only look at the Marquis and feel that she was held captive by the expression in his eyes.

She had not known it could be possible for him to look so young, so happy and so carefree. The lines of cynicism had gone and there was a radiance in his face that she knew was echoed by hers.

It was even difficult to speak. They could only look at each other and feel as if they had died and been reborn. Once Torilla put out her hand to touch the Marquis.

”You are really a here?” she asked.

”That is what I want to say to you, my wonderful, beautiful perfect little love.”

When the meal was over, the Marquis drew Torilla to her feet and, holding her by the hand, he walked from the private room along the pa.s.sage to the yard.

She saw that his phaeton was waiting there drawn by the superb chestnut horses she had seen were his when she was at The Pelican Inn.

Now there was no groom, only the ostlers from the inn were at the horses' heads.

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