The Keys of Love (3 page)

“Is he, indeed!” smiled her father, handing his hat to the maid.

He was only too well aware of the many greedy and unscrupulous men who had been endlessly plying her with their attentions for the last twelve months.

“Oh, he is, Papa. And the best thing is he had no idea who I was when I first met him and no idea who I was when he first called on me.”

Here the maid gave a little start and almost dropped the hat.

However, neither her father nor Henrietta noticed.

“So you see, Papa,” she went on, “he must like me for myself alone, mustn't he?”

“I suppose so ” he replied, removing his coat.

Lord Radford followed her into the drawing room.

“And how is Nanny?” he asked.

“Oh, she is somewhat under the weather these last two days. She has remained in bed.”

Not wishing him to worry, she plunged on quickly.

“She says she's feeling better already, although she won't come down to greet you until tomorrow morning.”

Palms under his chin, he now regarded his daughter fondly. She was wearing a pretty dress of pink and white gingham and a white ribbon held back her blonde locks.

“I do declare, Henrietta, you are turning into quite the American girl!” he teased.

“Papa, I'm not am I?”

Lord Radford laughed.

“Well, perhaps not quite yet. If we are here for much longer, though ”

“Papa, don't torment me. I like American girls and I like America. It's just that I don't want to feel like a stranger when we go home. I will be going home one day, won't I, Papa?”

“Well, I have some news in that respect that I think will please you.”

“What is it, Papa?”

“I have been training a manager to take over from me in the business. You and I will be able to return home before the end of the year and start renovating Lushwood!”

“Oh, Papa, will we really?” breathed Henrietta in great excitement.

“Yes. I have been compiling a list of architects to help us. We cannot book our passage just yet, but we
can
start thinking about the improvements we would like.”

“That is wonderful news. However ” Henrietta's face suddenly fell.

“I wonder if England will be on Prince Vasily's itinerary?”

‘Ah!' mused Lord Radford, regarding his daughter closely. ‘So that's the way of it! I had better meet this fellow without any delay, it seems!'

“Shall we then invite him to supper and find out?”

Henrietta clapped her hands in delight.

Later that evening, she and her father were waiting in the drawing room for the Prince to arrive when the maid knocked and entered.

With a glance at Henrietta, she asked if she might speak privately with Lord Radford.

He rose and followed her out into the corridor.

Henrietta looked up at her father when he returned after several minutes.

“What is it, Papa?” she asked, as he stood regarding her with evident concern.

“There is something you should know,” he began, and then the doorbell rang loudly.

Henrietta sprang up.

“There he is, Papa. Now you will see! But what is it that I must know ?”

“It must wait until later,” he murmured, listening to the sound of the maid hurrying to the front door.

As the Prince strode in, Henrietta thought he looked so distinguished with his scarlet jacket and white gloves.

She was perturbed at the slight frown that hovered on her father's brow, but it was gone in an instant.

All evening he was the perfect host and all evening Prince Vasily was the perfect guest, appreciative, attentive, and full of polite conversation.

When Henrietta asked him eagerly if England was on his itinerary, he remarked elegantly that it surely would be if she was there.

When at last the Prince left after a glass of brandy and a cigar with Lord Radford, Henrietta could not wait to discover her father's impression.

She burst into the library.

“Papa!”

Lord Radford looked up.

“My dear?”

“
Papa
! Tell me, please. What did you think of my Prince?”

Her father regarded her gravely.

“It's what
you
think of him that troubles me.”

Henrietta frowned.

“
Troubles
you? Why?”

Her father sighed and reached for the decanter.

“You like him a great deal, I know, but how do you know he is all that he says he is?”

“How do I know? Why because because it's he who tells me so.”

Lord Radford shook his head.

“But my dear, I'm afraid that I have to tell you that he is an accomplished dissembler.”

He might as well have struck his daughter.

She paled and stepped back.

“Di ssembler? How do you know?”

In answer, he rose, went to the door and called for the maid.

Henrietta stared at him feeling bewildered. He did not speak until the maid appeared, her eyes cast down.

“Will you now repeat to my daughter what you told me earlier,” he urged wearily.

The maid clasped and unclasped her hands.

“It was when I heard Miss Henrietta say the Prince didn't know who she was when he first called at the house, I thought, hadn't I better speak up? You see I had noticed him weeks ago, driving by the house time after time in that carriage.

“Then I heard he was asking questions around the district. He knew who she was all right and only yesterday I heard from the baker, who heard it from the farrier, that the carriage and the get-up are all hired. It's said round the town that he has hardly a cent to his name. He's a fortune seeker, sure as apples are green!”

There was a long silence, whilst the maid twisted her hands together, worrying as to whether she had done the right thing or not.

Henrietta stood for a long time feeling tearful.

“Oh, dear,” she spoke at last in a low sad voice. “I- I've been rather a fool, haven't I!”

“I sure am sorry, miss,” said the maid.

“That's alright,” Henrietta told her soberly. “You were right to tell me. When the Prince calls tomorrow, do not on any account let him in. And now I must go to bed. Goodnight, Papa.”

Her father hesitated before he answered.

“Goodnight, my dearest,” he said gently, impressed with his daughter's composure.

He was not to hear her sobbing later in her room, as she pressed her face into her pillow to stifle the sound.

*

The next day, Lord Radford went to visit the bank.

Henrietta did not go with him, as she felt somewhat fatigued. She had not slept at all well.

She was sewing quietly in the drawing room when the doorbell sounded and she held her breath, listening.

Yes, it was Prince Vasily.

She recognised his exclamation of surprise as the maid informed him that her Mistress was not at home.

Then there was the sound of the door being closed.

She breathed out in relief and took up her sewing.

Only a few minutes had passed when she heard the squeak of the gate in the yard at the back of the house.

She sat, hand poised over her sampler.

Was that someone mounting the iron stairway that led to the first floor balcony?

Was that a shadow by the drawing room window?

Was somebody there?

She was about to put down her sampler and reach for the bell when the window was thrown open and a pair of highly polished boots appeared over the low sill.

Prince Vasily followed!

“H-how dare you!” she gasped, rising in horror.

She reached again for the bell pull, but the Prince sprang forward and threw himself at her feet.

“Please, you must hear me,” he moaned. “My heart is burning. Why do you not wish to see me today, why?”

“It's not just for
today
I do not wish to see you,” asserted Henrietta, trying hard to suppress the tremor in her voice. “It's forever.”

“
Forever
?”

The Prince stared in disbelief.

“What means this?”

She noticed for the first time, as she gazed down at him, that the end of his nose was as thin as a knife blade.

“It means,” she answered as calmly as she could, “that I am no longer deceived.”

“Deceived!”

The Prince rose magisterially from his knees.

“How do I deceive you? I am impassioned for you.
Impassioned
!”

He did indeed appear impassioned, his nostrils were quivering and his pupils burning with ardour.

“I'm so sorry if you are, Prince, for I am not!”

“You refuse me? It is quite impossible,” he cried and with that he lunged forward to embrace her.

Her sampler and its sharp pin was an impediment.

“Oooch!” yelped the Prince, holding up a palm on which a bead of blood had instantly appeared.

“I am afraid I can only think it serves you right,” said Henrietta, in what she hoped was an icy tone. “Now you must please leave or I shall call one of the servants.”

It was at this very moment that the Prince appeared to metamorphose before her very eyes.

All ardour so obviously feigned was gone in a flash.

His lips tightened until they seemed a thread drawn under his moustache. His eyes hardened like hailstones.

“You would call a servant to remove
me
?”

“Y-yes. C-certainly,” replied Henrietta, unnerved by the malice now apparent in the Prince's demeanour.

“Nobody threatens this to Prince Vasily,” he hissed. “
Nobody
. I will go, but you will regret such treatment of me. This I promise!”

Henrietta trembled as he put his face close to hers.

“I will make sure you suffer for this,” he grunted through gritted teeth.

Then he turned and was gone the way he had come.

Henrietta felt faint.

She had never in her life encountered such hostility, nor endured such a threatening volte-face of behaviour.

She was afraid he had cursed her and she wished to get as far away from him and his kind as possible.

She had had enough of this long line of importunate deceivers.

When she heard the sound of her father's voice in the hall, she groped her way thankfully to the door of the drawing room.

“Papa!”

Lord Radford turned and started at the sight of his daughter, wide-eyed and trembling.

“Henrietta! What on earth is the matter, my dear?”

She took several unsteady steps towards her father before collapsing with a sob into his arms.

“I want to go home, Papa. Not in a few months or a few weeks, but
tomorrow
. Please, Papa, please. I mean it with all my heart.
I want to go home
!”

Henrietta and her father stood at the railings on the first class deck of
The Boston Queen
.

Nanny was below, ensuring their trunks containing Henrietta's wardrobe were delivered to the right cabin.

Lord Radford had booked her passage on a ship that sailed only two days after the incident with Prince Vasily.

Henrietta felt no sadness as she gazed at the Boston skyline. It was not her home and she had few friends.

“Well, the cabins are fancy enough,” came Nanny's voice. “No better than they should be for a Radford!”

Henrietta's father turned with a quick frown.

“You are forgetting yourself, Nanny. Remember, that for the purposes of this voyage, she is not Henrietta Radford. She is Miss
Harrietta Reed
.”

Nanny looked crestfallen.

“Oh, dearie me, my poor old head.”

He had decided that it would be best for Henrietta to travel incognito on the ship in order to avoid the kind of attentions that were driving her out of Boston.

He also wished to spare her the embarrassment of being met at Liverpool by various gentlemen of the press.

The story of the English Lord who had struck oil in America had already been reported in
The Times
and any reporter worth his salt would consider it quite a scoop to interview Henrietta on her arrival home.

Lord Radford could not leave his business as yet, as he was still training up a manager to take his place.

He would follow Henrietta as soon as he could.

“I hope
you
remember that your name is now Miss Reed,” he was saying to Henrietta. “That is the name you are booked under, after all.”

“I'll remember,” she answered. “And I'll certainly remember that Nanny is now
Mrs.Poody
!”

It was decided as well that Nanny should travel as a companion to Miss Reed to further protect her identity.

Nanny gave a cross little shake of her shoulders at being Mrs. Poody. She would have liked something a little more dignified than a childish nickname.

However, she could not be annoyed for more than a second with her beloved charge.

Lord Radford took out his watch.

“Almost time,” he intoned with a sad glance at his daughter.

The long queue of passengers tripping up the three gangways for First Class, Second Class and Steerage had by now slowed down to a trickle.

It was therefore easy to see the sudden last minute flurry of figures that spilled out of the departure building and hurried towards the ship.

Henrietta watched as they scrambled up the Second Class gangway. They were in black overcoats and carried leather containers of various shapes and sizes.

“It must be the ship's orchestra,” commented Lord Radford, following his daughter's gaze. “And those are their instruments.”

“An orchestra!” murmured Henrietta. “What fun!”

One member of the orchestra had lingered behind on the quayside. He seemed to be waiting for someone, as he had his back to the ship and was eagerly scanning the departure building.

The ship's horn blew a long and mournful sound.

“I must disembark,” said Lord Radford softly.