If what the Marquis had said was right, the announcement of their engagement would have been in The London Gazette yesterday and copied by the other newspapers today.
They would not arrive in the country until late in the evening or, as at home, a day late.
‘The household will know tomorrow, at any rate,’ she thought and felt it would be very embarrassing.
When she and Charis reached the silver salon where they were all to assemble before dinner, they found that the Marquis and their father were already there.
Ajanta had not seen the Marquis in evening clothes before and, if he had looked handsome and magnificent in his day clothes, at the moment he looked so distinguished that it was hard not to stare at him.
He was wearing the long black pantaloons introduced by the Prince Regent and a frilled cravat with the points of his collar above his chin made him look even taller than he was already.
She was feeling shy about her own appearance, but Charis rushed down the room towards the Marquis to say,
“Thank you, thank you! When I saw this gown, I thought I was dreaming. I don’t know how to tell you how thrilled I am!”
“You look very pretty!” the Marquis said with a good-humoured smile.
“Just look at me!” Charis crowed.
She flung out her arms to show off her gown and then pirouetted in front of him.
Her father looked at her in mild astonishment.
“Is that a new gown, Charis?” he asked.
“Of course it is, Papa! A present from the Marquis! He is the kindest man in the whole world!”
“I think that is true,” the Vicar replied. “He has already given me books which I value more than a new gown and which will have pride of place in my library when I return home.”
Ajanta’s lips tightened.
She thought it only remained to see what the Marquis had in store for Lyle and Darice.
She did not have to wait long for that information.
Her father put out his hand towards her and exclaimed, “Ajanta, my dearest, your fiancé has been very generous, very generous indeed!”
“What has he given you, Papa, besides books?” Ajanta asked in a tight little voice.
“He has promised me a carriage and a horse to replace my gig and poor old Bessie and, what I know will please you, another two horses for Lyle and Charis to ride and a pony for Darice.”
“A horse for me?” Charis cried. “Then I shall be able to go hunting! Oh, it’s marvellous! Marvellous!”
She flung her arms around the Marquis as she spoke and kissed his cheek.
He kissed hers in return and then he said,
“If you are so effusive for the present of a horse, I am wondering what you will say when you receive a diamond necklace!”
“I would much rather have a horse so that I can go out and meet people,” Charis replied.
The Marquis laughed.
“I have a feeling that you are already looking for adventure and doubtless for strangers like myself to save you this time from unfortunate accidents in the hunting field.”
“Oh, I do hope so!” Charis cried and the Marquis laughed again.
He was, however, well aware of Ajanta’s disapproval and, as he brought her a glass of champagne, he said,
“You are very silent, Ajanta!”
“Do you really need my paeans of praise to be added to Papa’s and Charis’s?” she enquired.
“Of course!” he replied. “As you well know, what you say and think is very important to me and, as the newspapers arrived twenty minutes ago, everybody in the house will now be aware why I am seeking your approval in everything I do.”
“You may have to coach me in my lines.”
“Of course I am willing to do that,” he replied, “but I warn you that, as the producer, I expect perfection.”
“It will be very sad if I fail to live up to the standards you have set yourself,” Ajanta answered.
She thought the Marquis intended to say something sharp as if he felt she was trying his patience too far, when her father joined them.
“I was just wondering,” he said, “when we shall have the pleasure of meeting your family? I presume you have told them of your intentions with regard to my daughter?”
“I sent a note to my mother who lives in the Dower House,” the Marquis replied, “and the rest of my relations will know tonight.”
“I am glad about that,” the Vicar said. “I have always found that families are upset and often feel insulted if they are not told about an engagement before it becomes public knowledge.”
The Marquis glanced at Ajanta and they were both thinking the same thing.
They were saved, however, from making any reply because at that moment the butler announced dinner.
Ajanta was not surprised that, as course succeeded course in the beautiful dining room, each dish was more delectable than the last.
Even Charis was silent as she ate, and Ajanta thought that perhaps the Marquis was right in saying that he had taken them to Olympus, although it annoyed her that he should be so pleased with himself and his possessions.
And yet she was honest enough to admit that he had every reason to be.
As he was undeniably so handsome and charming, she could understand why Charis looked at him with admiring eyes and she had never seen her father be so relaxed and happy since her mother had died.
“I am afraid,” the Marquis said as they finished dinner, “that this is the last meal we shall have alone for the next few days.”
“Why is that?” the Vicar asked.
“Because some of my relations will be arriving for luncheon and dinner tomorrow and doubtless batches of others will invite themselves in the following days until Ajanta and I will be sick to death of receiving their good wishes.”
“I am sure they will be very sincere,” the Vicar said. “Relations, I find, always want the bachelor in the family to be married.”
The Marquis laughed.
“That is true. If they are caught in the bonds of matrimony themselves, they cannot bear anybody else to be free and unconfined.”
The Vicar smiled.
“I think,” he said, “whatever your relations may think, you have been wise my dear Quintus, to wait until the right woman came along. I was fortunate to find my wife when we were both young.”
He sighed before he added,
“It gave us longer together and a joy and happiness that was inexpressible. Other men, however, have to wait, as you have done, but you know now it was worth waiting for.”
“Yes, indeed,” the Marquis agreed.
“Ajanta is so very very lucky!” Charis chimed in. “I want to marry somebody just like you. I wish you had a brother.”
“That is something I have often wished for myself,” the Marquis said. “It is very lonely being an only child, and I envy you, Charis, having two sisters and a brother.”
“When shall we see Lyle?” Charis asked.
“Tomorrow,” the Marquis replied. “I sent a groom over to Oxford this afternoon to ask him to join us and if it was possible to stay until Sunday night.”
“That was kind of you,” Ajanta said and there was a light in her eyes that had not been there before.
“I am glad I have pleased you,” the Marquis replied and knowing that mentally he was adding, ‘at last!’ she felt a little ashamed of herself.
“I am well aware,” she said, “of all the thought you have given us and I am not really ungrateful.”
Her eyes met his as she spoke and she had a feeling that he was perceptively aware that her words had not been completely sincere and she was in fact, because of the secret that lay between them not really grateful but resentful.
After dinner was finished and they were all sitting in the silver salon, the Vicar left them to collect a book from the library that he particularly wished to read when he went to bed.
Because she was so excited, Charis found it difficult to sit still, so she we
nt with him leaving the Marquis and Ajanta alone.
He looked at her sitting rather stiffly in the brocade chair, which framed the beauty of her gown, while the lights from the crystal chandelier glittered on the gold of her hair and made it shine almost dazzlingly.
It struck him that, when she was fashionably gowned, she would undoubtedly hold her own with all the beautiful women he entertained in his house, even Leone.
Then he told himself that, while he admired Ajanta’s beauty, she was vastly different in character and personality from any woman he had made love to.
‘Far too prickly, far too provocative for me,’ the Marquis told himself.
Then, because he found he could not resist duelling with her in words, he said,
“As my leading lady, may I point out, Ajanta, that I am disappointed with your acting ability.”
“Disappointed?” Ajanta questioned. “What have I done wrong?”
“Your role is very simple,” he said. “You are a young unsophisticated woman living in the country, who has attracted the attention of the sophisticated, bored and blasé Marquis of Stowe.”
Ajanta’s lips quivered and she gave a little laugh, but she did not interrupt and the Marquis went on,
“In a whirlwind courtship, he sweeps her off her feet and she promises to marry him. To express his love, he brings her silks and satins to clothe her and shows her his inexhaustible treasures which she is to share with him in their future life.”
The Marquis paused and, because she could not help being amused by what he was saying, Ajanta prompted, “Do go on. I want to hear the next Act.”
“I am concerned with my leading lady’s feelings,” the Marquis said reflectively.
“I apologise for interrupting you. The script, may I say, was not very clear.”
“Then my directions should leave no possible question of doubt,” the Marquis said. “The country girl is overwhelmed, captivated and very much in love. She thinks the noble Marquis is a Knight in shining armour come to rescue her from the boredom and monotony of her narrow existence.”
“So she gapes at him like a ‘gabble-cock’!” Ajanta interposed.
“A gabble-cock?” the Marquis enquired.
“The local name for a turkey,” Ajanta explained, and saw his eyes twinkle.
“Gaping like a gabble-cock,” he went on, “she is aware when she is carried away by her Knight to his Palace that her heart beats tumultuously! She finds herself admiring everything he does, everything he says, because, after all, it would be impossible for her to criticise perfection!”
Ajanta’s laughter rang out.
“What a glorious Fairy tale!” she exclaimed. “Now, of course, I understand where I am going wrong, but the trouble is I doubt my own capabilities and perhaps, in fact I am sure, you have cast the wrong person for the part.”
The Marquis, lying back in his chair with his legs crossed, looked Ajanta up and down, as if searching for faults.
“You certainly look right,” he said. “No leading lady transformed by her Fairy Godmother could look more alluring. At the same time you have forgotten to disguise your eyes.”
“My eyes?” Ajanta echoed.
“I can see emotions expressed in them which my heroine would certainly not feel,” the Marquis answered, “condemnation, dissatisfaction and undoubtedly sometimes dislike!”
“That’s not true!” Ajanta said hotly. “I don’t dislike you. I just feel – ”
She paused for words.
“Feel what?” the Marquis prompted.
“That you are playing a dangerous game, not from your own point of view, but from ours.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I know as you honestly pointed out,” Ajanta answered, “that this is a play which will run for a month, perhaps two or three, then will abruptly be taken off and the supporting cast will be turned out of the theatre without a chance of being re-employed.”
Her voice altered as she went on,
“They will also be aware that never – never again will they enjoy the – glamour and the – glory of taking part in such a – resplendent show! It will be – very hurtful.”
There was a little tremor in Ajanta’s voice as she said the last words.
Then, as she looked at the Marquis, she realised that this was something he had not considered and he was contemplating the point she had made for the first time. In a different tone from the one he had used before he said,
“I understand what you are saying to me, Ajanta, and let me promise you one thing, I will try not to hurt anybody unnecessarily but, as you are well aware, sometimes in life it is unavoidable.”
“It is something from which we should all try to – protect those we – love,” Ajanta said quickly.
The Marquis did not reply, but she knew she had given him something to think about, as her father came back into the salon carrying the book he had collected from the library.
*
The following day everything seemed to happen so quickly that there was no time for introspection and there was not a moment when she could have a private conversation with the Marquis.
In the morning horses were provided for them to ride after breakfast and, although Ajanta had to wear her old threadbare habit, which she had almost grown out of, she had given no thought to her appearance. She was riding one of the finest horses she had ever seen with Charis in a wild state of excitement riding beside her.
Before they left, Darice was taken to the paddock to try out two ponies and find which suited her best.
When she learned that the one she chose was a gift that she could keep forever, she cried because she was so happy.
“I have – always wanted – one – you know I have Ajanta!” she sobbed.
“There is nothing to cry about,” Ajanta said.
“Because I have – wanted one – so much – I cannot believe that now it is – really – mine!” Dance sniffed.
She held out her arms to the Marquis as she spoke and he picked her up.
“If the pony is going to make you cry, I shall take it away again,” he said.
“I – always want to – cry when I am very – very happy,” Darice explained.
“Then you must laugh when things go wrong and you are not happy,” the Marquis suggested.
She smiled at him through her tears.
“That would be a – topsy-turvy way of – doing things.” “So is crying when you ought to be jumping for joy.” “I will jump on my pony,” Darice said, as he lifted her onto the saddle.
They watched as the groom, taking her on a leading rein, moved away with her, then they mounted their own horses and set off to ride through the Park.
“I was certain you would both be outstanding riders,” the Marquis remarked.
“If we are, it’s surprising,” Charis replied. “Sharing Rover with Ajanta is frustrating enough, but in the holidays Lyle wants him every day and we have to walk.”
“That is something you will not have to do in the future,” the Marquis said.
“That is what I thought in the night,” Charis answered, “and I pinched myself in case I was dreaming.”
When a little later they turned back towards The Hall, the Marquis turned to Ajanta,
“I think you will find somebody you very much want to see waiting for you when we reach home.”
He saw a light he had not seen before in her eyes and the expression on her face, he told himself, was what his relatives would expect to see when she looked at him.
“For luncheon,” he warned her, “there will be two uncles, three cousins and a terrifying old aunt of mine. So don’t forget that they will be extremely curious and undoubtedly ready to be critical.”
“You are frightening me!”
“Only warning you,” the Marquis replied, “and if you find my relatives a bore, remember, I have suffered from them for thirty-three years!”
“Are you as old as that?” Ajanta asked. “I am not surprised
they have almost given up saving money for a wedding present.”
“We had better make it quite clear that we do not expect wedding presents to arrive so quickly,” the Marquis said, “otherwise we shall have to write letters of thanks to them.”
“You will have to write them,” Ajanta corrected. “They will be presents for you, not me.”
“I think they are usually accepted jointly,” the Marquis replied, “and unless it is a very close relative they will expect to hear from you. After all, it’s the woman’s job to make herself pleasant.”
He thought that Ajanta would not let such a remark pass and he was not disappointed.
“I think that is typical of a man’s inclination to make a woman do all the dull things in a marriage, while he does all the amusing and gayest ones.”
“What do you mean by that?” the Marquis enquired.
“From what I have read of those who live in Society,” Ajanta replied, “I gather it is the woman who stays at home, entertains the correct people, patronises orphans and the elderly, besides supporting any other charities with which she and her husband are concerned.”
The Marquis was listening with an amused smile as she went on,
“For a man it is quite different. He has race meetings, prize fights and his Clubs to attend. He can be away from home for long stretches at a time without expecting any complaints.”
She gave the Marquis a knowing little glance before she went on,
“What is more, according to what I have heard, he often goes abroad when the country is not at war, not taking his wife because she might find the journey uncomfortable and largely because he simply wishes to get away!”
“And where have you learnt all this?” the Marquis asked.
“Are you saying it’s not true?”
“I am only amused that among the cabbages you should have developed such an astute appraisement of Social life as lived by the Nobility.”
“Even the cabbages have ears,” Ajanta replied sharply, “and birds carry gossip from one nest to another.”
“From what you have said that must undoubtedly be true,” the Marquis answered, “and again you are stepping out of character, Ajanta. My country heroine is wide-eyed and adoring and sees no wrong in her hero, nor would he ever disappoint her by going abroad alone.”
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