Part 20 (1/2)
Torilla tied the ribbons of her bonnet under her chin and, only as she did so, did she exclaim, ”My luggage! It was on the stagecoach.”
The Marquis smiled.
”My servants have already taken it on ahead of us.”
He helped Torilla up into the phaeton, climbed up himself, threw two golden guineas to the delighted ostlers and then they were off, bowling at a tremendous speed along the road leading North.
Only when they were clear of the houses and out in the green countryside did Torilla ask, ”Where are we going?”
”First to visit my mother,” the Marquis replied. ”I must tell you she is absolutely convinced it was her prayers alone that brought Rodney Marsden back from the grave and saved me from a loveless marriage.”
Torilla turned her head to look at him and he went on, ”I expect you realised that after I was saved by fate or prayer, I left London immediately to take my mother home.”
”I did not a think of your doing a that,” Torilla said in a low voice.
The Marquis looked surprised.
”Then what did you imagine had happened to me, my darling?”
There was a pause before Torilla said hesitatingly, ”I a thought perhaps you did not a want me any more.”
”I will tell you how much I want you and need you,” the Marquis replied, ”tonight after we are married!”
She looked at him in a startled fas.h.i.+on as he added, ”You must realise, my precious heart, that we have to be very circ.u.mspect and very secret about our wedding. I will not have you gossiped about.”
”And we can really be a married tonight?”
Now Torilla's eyes were like stars and there was a note in her voice that made the Marquis say, ”If you look at me like that, I shall be unable to drive carefully and we will have an accident!”
Torilla gave a little laugh of sheer happiness and, moving closer to him, laid her cheek against his arm.
”Can I really marry a you so a quickly?” she asked.
”It is all arranged,” the Marquis answered. ”We will be married in my own Chapel at The Castle by my Chaplain, and the only witness will be my mother. No one will know anything about it for some months.”
”It sounds too wonderful!” Torilla cried a and she knew the Marquis felt the same.
They drove along almost in silence until the Marquis drew his team to a standstill and she saw a little way to the left of them across a winding river The Castle set amid the green foliage of protective trees.
She had expected it to be impressive, but it looked enormous, its grey stone silver in the suns.h.i.+ne, the Marquis's flag flying from the highest tower.
He did not speak, but his eyes were on her face and after a moment Torilla said in a low voice, ”I shall not be a a brilliant Social hostess.”
”No?” the Marquis questioned.
”I shall not be a sophisticated or a witty.”
”No?” he said again.
She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly troubled.
”I have a nothing to give you but a love.”
He held the reins in one hand and put his arm round her.
”Do you think I want anything else?” he asked, his voice deep and pa.s.sionate.
His lips touched hers and she felt his fiery desire on them.
Then he whipped up his horses and they moved off at a pace that told her he was impatient for what lay ahead.
They went first to the Dower House, which lay at the far end of the Park surrounding the Castle.
Grooms appeared to run to the horses' heads and the Marquis helped Torilla down and led her into the house. For the first time she felt a little apprehensive at meeting the Marquis's mother.
Supposing she did not think her good enough for her son? Suppose she had other plans for him now that he was free again?
The Marquis opened a door and there sitting in the sunlight of a bow window, Torilla saw a grey-haired woman with a face that somehow reminded her of her own mother.
There was the same sweetness of expression, the same kindness in her eyes, the same smile of welcome.
The Dowager Marchioness was looking at her son and he said in a voice that was unmistakably proud, ”I have brought Torilla to meet you, Mama.”
”I have been so greatly looking forward to this moment, my dear,” the Dowager Marchioness replied, then she held out both hands to Torilla.
Torilla walked hand in hand with her husband in a garden that was brilliant with flowers. They filled the air with fragrance and formed an indescribably beautiful kaleidoscope of colour.
The sun was hot on their heads and it was a relief when the Marquis drew her under the shade of the trees that bordered the lawns.
A path wound its way through the silver beeches, which had a fairy-like appearance about them. Then the wood grew thicker and the sun could only percolate through the branches above them in tiny patches of gold.
”Where are you taking me, darling Gallen?” Torilla asked.
Her voice had a caressing note in it so that every word she uttered seemed an endearment.
”To a very special place,” the Marquis replied. 'It is where Mama told me she and Papa used to rest in the afternoon when they were on their honeymoon.”
The house where the Marquis and Torilla were staying had been given to them as a wedding present by the Dowager Marchioness.
She had explained to Torilla why she had done so.
”My husband and I spent our honeymoon there,” she said in her soft, sweet voice, ”and we were so ideally happy that afterwards he bought it from the friends who had lent it to us, and we kept it as a special place where we could be alone.”
There was a reminiscent look in her eyes as she went on, ”Whenever Gallen's father was tired or seemed to have so many important things to do that it encroached upon our time together, we used to go there alone.”
She smiled before she continued, ”It is a place where we talked only of love and ourselves, and to me it will therefore always be the most wonderful place I have ever known.”
The moment Torilla reached the house with the Marquis, she had known that it would mean as much in their lives as it had in his father's and mother's.