A Hazard of Hearts

Chapter One ~ 1808-2

How well Serena knew that look! Now practically everything that was worth selling had gone. The Van Dykes, the inlaid china cabinets, the Charles II silver, the fine tapestries that had hung in the dining room for hundreds of years. Now for reminders there were only marks on the walls and empty places in the hearts of those who had loved them.

“Please, God, let him have won.”

Once again Serena whispered her prayer out loud, but the fresh wind seemed to blow it from between her lips.

Then she stopped and stared along the drive where a horse suddenly showed between the distant trees.

“He is coming! I can see him!”

She spoke more to herself than to Eudora, whose step she had heard behind her.

“Put on your pelisse, Miss Serena. It is ever so cold out here.”

“’It’s my father! He has arrived! What a strange time. He must have left London early.”

Even as she said the words she felt her heart drop. When Sir Giles was gambling, he seldom left the tables before dawn and, if he had gone from the Club early and come to Staverley before noon, it could have only one explanation. He had lost all his money and therefore had been able to play no longer.

Instinctively Serena put out her hand towards Eudora and she took it in both of hers, but she said nothing and Serena was well aware that Eudora had no words of consolation for her. She had seen the horse between the trees before the drive curved a little to hide anyone from sight. Now the horse appeared again and Serena gave a cry.

“But it’s not Sir Giles! Look, Eudora, it is someone else on horseback. Who can it be?”

“It’s not Sir Giles,” Eudora replied quietly.

“No, I told you it wasn’t,” Serena said impatiently. “But I believe it is Cousin Nicholas. Yes, of course, that is who it is. And I was assured that he too was in London. He must have returned, maybe to tell us what time my father will be home. He is riding swiftly. Go and order wine for him and some cold meats. He will be hungry after his ride.”

Eudora turned without a word and Serena, waiting impatiently at the top of the steps, waved to her cousin as he crossed the bridge spanning the lake and cried out a greeting as soon as he came within earshot.

“Nicholas! How enchanting to see you. I thought at first you were my father! Have you come from London?”

Nicholas Staverley looked up at Serena where she stood, the sunshine on her fair hair and the wind blowing the skirts of her muslin dress.

She had no idea how lovely she looked against the grey stone of the old house and Nicholas stared at her as he swept his hat from his head. He dismounted as an old groom came hurrying round the corner of the house to take his horse.

“You ’ave ridden ’er ’ard, Mr. Nicholas,” he said reproachfully with the familiarity of an old servant.

When Nicholas had no answer for him, he took the horse away, grumbling a little beneath his breath.

“Come in, Nicholas, it’s nice to see you,” Serena said. “It must be nigh on two months since you went to London and only one letter have I had from you. I declare I have a mind to chide you for being so unkind, but I expect you have been too gay to remember your country cousin.”

“Oh, I say, Serena, it isn’t that,” Nicholas said, colouring a little like a schoolboy. “It is just that I am no hand at letter-writing, never was at school, and many a flogging I’ve had for it.”

“But now you are here you can tell me all the news,” Serena said. “Eudora has gone to prepare a luncheon for you. But tell me, first of all, how is my father? Is he – winning?”

Serena dropped her voice on the last words. Nicholas looked down into her upturned face. He was much taller than his cousin, a well-set-up young man with broad shoulders and a well-turned leg for a boot and yet at that moment he looked like a badly scared little boy who must confess to those in authority for some misdemeanour.

Serena saw the expression on his face.

“What is it, Nicholas?” she said.

“Let’s go into the drawing room,” Nicholas said. “We cannot discourse here.”

Serena opened the door that led into the drawing room. The room was still bathed in sunshine, yet somehow it seemed to her that there was an atmosphere of disquiet and of apprehension, as though it waited for the fulfilment of Eudora’s prediction.

Nicholas closed the door quietly behind him and then he stood still and looked at Serena. The sun was behind her now, gilding her fair hair with a shining radiance.

“What is it, Nicholas?”

“Uncle – Giles – ” he stammered.

Serena’s eyes widened.

“Ill? – Oh, Nicholas!”

“Worse, Serena – worse than that.”

Serena gave a little cry.

“Worse? Not – not – he is not dead?”

Nicholas nodded.

For a moment Serena stood very still. She made no movement, only her eyes searched his face blindly. Then at last in a voice that was scarcely above a whisper, she asked,

“How?”

It seemed to her as she asked the question that the whole world was hushed and still.

“A duel,” Nicholas answered, “at dawn this morning. I was one of his seconds.”

“A – duel!”

Serena’s hand went quickly to her breast.

Her heart had started beating again after a moment so breathless with fear that she felt as if she had been turned to stone. Almost she said, “thank God!” She had feared something far worse, something that she had always been afraid of.

“Yes, a duel,” Nicholas repeated.

“He did not – suffer?”

“Not at all. But – oh, Serena, he intended it to happen.”

Nicholas’ face was white and Serena suddenly realised how tired and drawn he looked. She took a deep breath, taking control of her emotions and forcing her mind to think of Nicholas rather than of her own chaotic feelings.

“You are tired, Nicholas. Sit down. We can talk as easily sitting as standing.”

Nicholas made a gesture.

“Wait, Serena, there is something that I have to say to you. You must listen.”

He came a little nearer to her and continued. “I want you to marry me, Serena. Now! At once! Today!”

He spoke with an urgency and now Serena was staring at him, her eyes wide and the astonishment on her face very plain to see.

“Nicholas, what do you mean? Why?”

“There is no time to be lost, Serena. It can be done by Special Licence or if that is impossible we can leave tonight for Gretna Green.”

“But, Nicholas, are you deranged?”

Nicholas passed his hand over his forehead.

“No, I am being very sane, Serena, and you have to agree. It is the only thing you can do, I tell you.”

“Nicholas, dear, suppose you tell me from the very beginning – what this is all about.”

She looked at him with anxiety.

She had known him ever since they had been children together. He was her first cousin and was indeed the heir to Staverley as she had no brothers. But always he had been a quiet, rather reticent young man. They had played with each other and teased each other as children, but in most things Serena had been the leader, Nicholas seldom took the initiative. He was in character both conventional and careful.

His father had left him a little money, not much, but enough to be comfortable on and he had recently gone to London to pay his respects at Court. He was fond of his cousin, as Serena was well aware, but it was the affection of a brother for a sister rather than of a man for a maid.

The last thing Serena had ever expected to hear was a proposal of marriage from Nicholas.

“Sit down, Nicholas,” she suggested.

At that moment the door opened and Eudora came in with a bottle of wine and a glass on a tray.

“A repast will be ready in a few minutes,” she said. “In the meantime I thought Mr. Nicholas would take a glass of wine.”

“Set it down, Eudora,” Serena said quietly.

Eudora did as she was told and went from the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Without waiting for an invitation Nicholas walked across to the side table, poured himself out a full glass of wine and drank it off quickly.

And then once again in a wild, distraught manner he passed his hand over his forehead.

“Now, Nicholas, please tell me – everything.”

Nicholas took a breath as if it was difficult for him to find appropriate words and then at last he started to speak in a voice abrupt, raw and very unlike the slow fashionable drawl he had recently affected.

“Uncle Giles had been losing heavily for the last three days. It seemed not to matter what he did, he never held a winning card. Then yesterday evening his luck began to change. He made a few thousands, not a fortune, but enough to gain back what he had lost. I had been watching and, when his opponent rose from the table saying that he must get to Almack’s before it closed, I said to him, ‘come and have something to eat, Uncle Giles’. He smiled at me. ‘That is a good idea, Nicholas, my boy,’ he said. ‘It seems a long time since I ate.’ He rose from the table and then at that moment the door of the card room opened and – someone came in.”

Nicholas paused.

“Who was it?” Serena asked.

“Vulcan!”

“The Marquis of – Vulcan?”

Nicholas nodded.

“That man!” Serena exclaimed. “It was because of him we had to sell the Van Dykes.”

“Yes, I know. He looked across the room and saw Uncle Giles.

“‘Ah, Sir Giles,’ he said. ‘I have been hoping we should meet again. Would you care to have your revenge?’

“‘My Lord,’ I interrupted, ‘my uncle was just coming with me to have something to eat.’

“He stared at me as if I was a lackey and then spoke again direct to your father.”

“‘Well, Sir Giles, are you willing?’

“Your father sat down at the table.

“‘I am at your service, my Lord,’ he said.

“I could do nothing more, Serena. I did my best.”

“Yes, yes, Nicholas, I understand. Of course you did. Go on.”

“They began to play. Your father’s luck had gone. He lost and lost again. He went on losing. At last he staked – this house.”

“Oh, no, Nicholas – not that?”

“Yes, Serena.”

“And he lost?”

“He lost.”

Serena put up her hands for one moment to her eyes.

“I cannot bear it, Staverley is – my home.”

“That is not all,” Nicholas went on harshly.

“What then?”

“Uncle Giles rose from the table.

“‘My Lord,’ he said to the Marquis, ‘you have won from me all the money I possess in the world and now I have lost my home to you. I must bid you ‘goodnight’ because I have nothing left to wager.’”

“I can hear him saying it,” Serena said, “and he would have said it – proudly.”

“He did,” Nicholas answered. “Lord Vulcan looked up at him, the cards still in his hands, and said,

“‘It’s a pity, Sir Giles. I had hoped to give you your revenge. Have you nothing else on which you can try your luck?’

“He played with the cards as he spoke. Your father seemed almost hypnotised by them, watching them as if he longed to feel them in his hands again. At last he said, very very quietly,

“‘I have one thing more.’”

“What could – it have been?” Serena asked.

Nicholas looked away from her.

“I-I cannot tell you, Serena.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nicholas, of course you can tell me,” Serena answered. “Do go on.”

“It was you!”

“What – what do you mean?”

“Uncle Giles said, ‘My Lord, I have one thing left and this time, if you play me, I believe you will lose. I have a daughter and when she marries she will inherit eighty thousand pounds, but only when she marries, you understand. Are you prepared, my Lord, to wager all I owe you for your freedom?’”

With a swift movement Serena walked across the room and stood beside the open window.

After a moment she spoke and her voice was steady if faint.

“Go on, Nicholas.”

“The Marquis smiled. If I had had the pluck, Serena, I would have struck that smile from his lips, but I could only stand there watching and wondering where this madness of your father’s would lead him.

“‘You agree?’ Uncle Giles asked.’

“‘I agree,’ the Marquis replied.

“They began to play. In three minutes it was over and – Lord Vulcan had won.”

Serena closed her eyes.

For a moment the world spun round her.

“What then?”

“Uncle Giles left White’s Club without a word. I followed him. I tried to speak to him but he shook me off. ‘Leave me be, Nicholas,’ he said. ‘I wish to wallow in the Hell of my own making’. He strode up St. James’s Street and I followed him a little distance behind as I did not know what to do. At Piccadilly he stood hesitating for a moment. There was a man approaching him, a gentleman by his dress, but obviously, it seemed to me, slightly the worse for drink. I saw your father go up to him and deliberately jostle him to one side.