63 Ola and the Sea Wolf (7 page)

‘I will manage, of course I will manage,’ she told herself reassuringly. ‘After all, it is not as though I have never been abroad before, although never – alone.’

She knew it would be very different travelling on her own. When her father and mother had first taken her to the Convent, they had stayed on the way with friends at their grand châteaux and had made the journey an adventure that Ola knew she would never forget.

When she had returned to England with two other English girls, they had two nuns in attendance and a Courier to arrange their rooms and see to the luggage.

‘Now I shall be alone,’ she thought and she could not help shivering and feeling a little afraid.

She was convinced that it would be wisest to hire a post chaise. But she still would have to stay at inns on the way and she thought they would think it strange that a lady should be travelling alone, especially one so young.

A memory came flooding back to her that was even more disturbing.

When she was returning to England with the nuns, they had stopped at an inn on the main Paris to Calais road. It was not as large or as pleasant as the other inns they had stayed at, but as the nuns explained it was the best available.

When they arrived, it was to find that they were one room short and, while the Courier was arguing about it with the landlord, a woman had come up to the desk to speak to him and Ola had looked at her with interest.

She was French with an extremely attractive face, which also looked a little strange because Ola realised she used far more cosmetics than anyone she had ever seen before.

Her eyelashes were mascaraed, her mouth was crimson and there was definitely rouge on her cheeks.

Nevertheless the clothes she wore were expensive and very elegant and she looked so pretty that Ola found it hard to understand why when she asked for a room the landlord’s wife, who was attending to her while her husband was busy, said in a hard voice,

“Are you alone,
madame
?”

“I have asked only for one room and that is the answer to your question,” the lady replied.

“We don’t let our rooms to women who travel alone,” the landlord’s wife had snapped. “You’ll find the type of hotel
you
require further down the street!”

She spoke in such a rude uncompromising way that Ola expected the lady to reprimand her for her impertinence.

To her surprise she merely shrugged her shoulders and walked out of the inn.

Now Ola wondered that, if they had refused to accommodate a woman alone, whether she would receive the same treatment.

She gave a little sigh at the thought and then told herself optimistically that at least there were hotels that would take women who travelled alone, and perhaps they would be quieter and less noisy.

The prospect of reaching Paris began to appear more difficult than she had thought at first and there was so much to consider that, although she found several interesting books amongst the Marquis’s collection, while she was still thinking about her problems, she fell asleep.

*

The Marquis, after an enjoyable two hours of watching his yacht plunge through the sea, came below, having learnt from the Captain that it would be impossible for them to turn towards Le Havre.

“The only thing I can suggest, my Lord, is that we tack back there when the wind drops, but it will take several hours and at this time of the year one can never be certain what the weather conditions will be like.”

“No, we will go to Bordeaux as you suggested previously,” the Marquis said. “I am sure Miss Milford, who is my guest, can easily find her way from there to Paris.”

“Surely the young lady is not travelling all that way alone, my Lord?” the Captain asked in surprise.

The Marquis was instantly annoyed that he had mentioned it and moved away without replying to the Captain’s question.

‘I have brought her to France as she asked,’ he told himself, ‘but I will
not
under any circumstances make her my responsibility!’

He remembered how Sarah had first evoked his sympathy because she seemed so helpless and pathetic without a husband to protect or care for her.

He saw now with a bitterness that seemed to run through his veins like poison that a great deal of it had been an act to make him feel big, strong and protective.

He could recall exactly what she had said to him to and which he had made the obvious reply! He could see all too clearly the trusting look in her eyes when she told him that she was bewildered, worried, anxious or upset. To which the inevitable answer was that he would see to it for her

‘Fool! Fool!’ he inwardly shouted and he felt the sound of the wind in the rigging repeat the same words.

‘It is something I will never be again,’ he vowed.

When he went below, he was seeking the words to tell Ola that the moment they reached Bordeaux his responsibility would be at an end.

‘Whether she reaches Paris or anywhere else is nothing to do with me and doubtless she will find plenty of other men to help her.’

He wondered how many men there had been in Sarah’s life besides Anthony.

There was no reason to think that he was the only one and there must have been other men before her husband died!

Men who she found had been only too willing to look after and help a woman who pleaded with them with eyes as blue as a clear summer sky, but were actually as dark with deceit as Satan himself.

The Marquis’s eyes were hard and his lips were in a tight line as he entered the Saloon.

For a moment he thought that it was empty and Ola had retired to her own cabin. Then he saw that she was curled up on the sofa asleep.

The Marquis had decorated the Saloon in pale green because it seemed an appropriate colour to use at sea. That alone had been revolutionary as most yachts were upholstered in brown leather and it was fashionable to have oak panelling on the cabin walls.

He could not have chosen a colour that was a more effective background for Ola’s fiery red hair.

As the Marquis moved towards her, he saw that her eyelashes were very dark against her cheeks that were still pale from tiredness and in fact, as she slept, she looked very young and vulnerable.

He sat down on the chair opposite her and it struck him that it was not surprising that she was tired seeing what a dramatic day it had been for her yesterday.

Running away at dawn must have been a nerve-racking experience in itself. Then to learn of her cousin’s intentions towards her had been a shock, which was bad enough without the sudden fright of an accident in the fog.

The Marquis had seen far too many accidents with carriage horses not to be aware that Ola was extremely lucky to have escaped unhurt.

Her cousin, who had been driving, had obviously been flung onto the road and it was unlikely, the Marquis thought, that the wound caused by the stone he had fallen on would be his only injury.

Usually in such an accident he would have fractured a limb, while in several cases the Marquis was aware people had broken their necks.

He wondered whether the horses were hurt, then told himself sharply that it was none of his business.

It was the brandy that was responsible for his having foisted himself with Ola and the sooner he was rid of her the better.

Then looking at her he wondered how, after he had put her ashore, she would reach Paris.

A post chaise from Calais would not have been difficult, for it was the usual route taken by travellers and the French with their shrewdness for making money had everything organised to suit the pockets of every class of person visiting their country.

But Bordeaux was a long way from Paris and the Marquis began to think it might, in fact, be impossible for Ola to find a post chaise to take her, even with a frequent change of horses, directly to Paris.

‘I will not concern myself with her – I will not!’ he murmured.

Then he told himself that she was so young, a lady, and as such, used to having servants, relatives, teachers and Governesses looking after her.

‘She will find herself a Courier,’ a critical part of his mind told him and he wondered if a Courier of any repute would take on a woman who was by herself.

Moreover there were Couriers who were known to prey on travellers, charging them exorbitant sums and even being in league with robbers who would relieve them of their luggage and other valuables before abandoning them penniless in some isolated part of the country.

‘Damn her! Why did I ever meet her in the first place?’ the Marquis asked.

As the words were spoken in his mind, Ola opened her eyes.

For a moment she looked at him as if she wondered who he was. Then some memory came back to her and there was a smile on her lips that was very attractive as she sat up saying,

“I fell – asleep. I am ashamed of my indolence when I might have been improving my mind with one of your books.”

“What you were doing was very sensible,” the Marquis said. “It is extremely rough outside now. The wind is cold and there are gusts of sleet which are very unpleasant.”

“All the same you look as if you have enjoyed it!” Ola remarked. “Perhaps you will let me go on deck tomorrow?”

“It depends if it is safe.”

Ola gave a little laugh.

“I believe you are afraid that I shall break my leg and then you will not be able to be rid of me unless you throw me overboard!”

What she was saying was so near to what the Marquis was thinking himself that he felt almost embarrassed.

He did not reply and Ola added,

“I promise you I will go ashore the moment you tell me to do so, but there is one thing I want to ask you.”

“What is that?”

“As we are going to Bordeaux and it is a town I have never visited and therefore know very little about, do you think that there is a good jeweller there?”

“A jeweller?” the Marquis asked in perplexity.” What do you want with a jeweller?”

It flashed through his mind that she might be expecting him to give her a present. He remembered so many women who had somehow lured him into a jeweller’s so that he could demonstrate his affection for them in what to them was a very much more practical manner than by kisses.

Ola looked down as if she was shy and then said in a small voice,

“I think – if I could have landed at Calais – I would have had enough – money to reach Paris – but, as Bordeaux is so much further away – I shall have to – sell some of my jewellery – and I don’t wish to be – defrauded.”

“Surely you did not set off from home without having enough money to carry you to Paris?” the Marquis asked. “How much did you bring?”

There was silence and he had a feeling she was not going to tell him the truth.

“Don’t lie to me!” he said sharply. “Quite frankly, I am not really interested in your finances one way or another. If you want my help, you had better at least be honest.”

“I-I was not going to – lie,” Ola replied. “I just did not wish you to think that I was – foolish to bring so little money with me.”

“How much have you got?”

“F-four sovereigns – and some – silver.”

Before the Marquis could speak she added quickly,

“Because Giles was coming with me – I thought it would be – enough.”

“So you intended that he should pay for you, even before you learnt he wished to marry you?” the Marquis said scornfully.

“Not at all!” Ola retorted. “He knew that, as Step-Mama has the handling of my fortune. she could pay him back anything I owed him – or else I would have given him a piece of – Mama’s jewellery. It is very valuable!”

“Dear God! Do you mean to say that you are carrying it all in that case you had with you last night?”

Ola nodded.

“My dear child,” the Marquis said in exasperation, “do you really imagine that you can reach Paris without having it stolen from you and perhaps being knocked about or killed in the process?”

“There is – nothing else I – can do,” Ola said defensively.

She gave a little cry.

“Oh, it is easy for you to find fault and say, ‘
you should have known better
!’ now that everything has gone wrong, but I trusted Giles when he said he would take me to the Convent. Now last night I thought of – something – else.”

“What is that?” the Marquis asked in an unsympathetic tone.

“Because Giles knows where I intended to go, he will, when he is better, look for me there – so I cannot now stay at the – Convent.

The Marquis looked at her.

Then where do you intend to go?”

“I have not yet decided.”

“But you have to go somewhere.”

“Yes, I know, but there is no reason for me to worry you with my plans. You have made it quite clear that I am not your responsibility, which of course, I am not.”

“No, of course not,” the Marquis agreed. “At the same time I am curious. You did mention an alternative last night, I think.”

“Yes, I told you Step-Mama was always saying I would have to be a
cocotte
, but that I was not certain exactly what that means.”

She looked at the Marquis as if he could supply the answer. When he did not do so, she went on,

“I looked the word up in the French dictionary, and it said, ‘
fille de joie
’ – ‘woman of joy’ and I thought that must mean an actress of some sort. Is that not so?”

“Not exactly – ” the Marquis replied, amazed at her innocence.

“I expect they will tell me what it is when I get to Paris. The trouble is I can hardly walk down the street asking for an instructor on how to be a ‘
fille de joie
’! Perhaps they would be able to tell me at a theatre?”

She gave him a mischievous little smile as she went on,

“The nuns would be very shocked! They thought theatres were the invention of the Devil and always warned us against visiting them, although we were allowed occasionally to attend the Opera House.”

The Marquis was finding it almost impossible to know what he could say to this ridiculous ignorant child.

He made up his mind.

“The best thing I can do,” he said firmly, “is to sail to Plymouth. There I will engage a responsible Courier who will take you back to your stepmother.”