Call of the Heart by Barbara Cartland Page B

... did not ... say it ... and . . . I . . . cannot . . .
    stand any ... more---------I ... cannot! I . . . cannot!”
    She looked at him wildly, as if afraid that he would not listen to her.
    She made a desperate little gesture, then collapsed on the floor at his feet.

Chapter Three
    Lord Rothwyn stared down at Lalitha’s prostrate body, then crossed the room and pulled at the bell-cord.
    As a footman answered the summons he lifted Lalitha in his arms and carried her past the flunkey, across the Hall, and up the stairs.
    The footman hurried ahead of them and opened a door at the end of a wide corridor.
    Lord Rothwyn carried Lalitha into the bed-room.
    It was a large room over-looking the garden at the back of the house. Decorated with lilies, it was obviously the bridal bedchamber.
    As he walked towards the bed Lord Rothwyn said:
    “Fetch Nurse!”
    “Nurse, M’Lord?” the flunkey asked in surprise.
    “You heard what I said.”
    Lord Rothwyn laid Lalitha down very gently on the pillows, setting her on her side so that her bruised and bleeding back was not against the bed.
    He took his arms from her and stood staring at her, his expression still as incredulous as it had been when he had first looked at the terrible weals and scars left by Lady Studley’s cane.
    By the light of the candles he could also see that her arms were bruised.
    He realised that when he had dragged her up the aisle it must have hurt as well as frightened her.
    Lalitha did not move and Lord Rothwyn was also motionless. The door opened and an elderly woman entered.
    She had a kind, lined face, grey hair, and was wearing the conventional grey dress and apron of a children’s Nurse.
    “You sent for me, M’Lord?”
    Lord Rothwyn turned as if in relief.
    “Come here, Nattie!”
    She crossed the room to his side and, following the direction of his eye, looked down at Lalitha and the terrible marks on her back.
    “Master Inigo!” she exclaimed, “who could have done such a thing?”
    She looked up at him as she spoke.
    “Not me, Nattie,” he replied. “I would not treat a woman or an animal in such a fashion.”
    “Who could have been so bestial?” Nurse asked.
    “A woman!” Lord Rothwyn said briefly.
    “What are you going to do about it?”
    “That is what I am asking you,” Lord Rothwyn said.
    The Nurse bent forward and pulled apart a little further the sides of Lalitha’s gown.
    Bleeding, burningly inflamed, purple and orange tipped, there hardly seemed to be an inch of her back that was not mutilated.
    “She has collapsed!” Lord Rothwyn said, as if he felt an explanation was necessary, “but when she is conscious the pain will be intolerable.”
    “It will indeed,” the Nurse replied. “We need Bay-oil.”
    “I will send at once to the Pharmacy,” Lord Rothwyn said.
    He spoke briskly, almost as if he was glad that there was something he could do.
    “No Pharmacy is likely to have the oil from a Bay-tree,” Nurse said.
    “Then where can we obtain it?”
    “From the Herb-Woman.”
    “What Herb-Woman?” Lord Rothwyn began, and then exclaimed: “I remember! She lives near Roth. My mother used to speak of her.”
    “That’s right,” Nurse agreed.
    She looked down at Lalitha again and touched her hand as if to reassure herself that she was still living.
    It was a very thin hand and the bones of the wrist stuck out pathetically.
    “Who is she, M’Lord?” Nurse asked the question as if it had suddenly occurred to her.
    There was a pause before Lord Rothwyn said abruptly:
    “My wife!”
    “You have married her?” Nurse exclaimed. “But I thought... we were told this evening that... ”
    “—I was bringing home a great beauty,” Lord Rothwyn finished with a note of contempt in his voice. “I was, but instead I have brought you, Nattie, someone who needs your care and protection.”
    The Nurse bent forward to put her hand on Lalitha’s forehead. “I’ll do my best, M’Lord,” she said quietly, “but we will