Lucifer and the Angel

by Barbara Cartland

  “I think first you should show him your new gown, Anita.”

  The Duke looked at Anita and realised why she seemed different.

  Now, instead of the plain little dress he had seen on her in Harrogate with its white collar and cuffs, she was wearing an extremely attractive and obviously expensive white gown with a wide skirt that was unmistakably supported by a crinoline.

  Above it her tiny waist was encircled by a blue sash and her pale hair was dressed in a new fashion which made her look, he thought, even more like a small angel than she had before.

  After what she had accomplished for his mother, he almost expected to see wings sprouting from her shoulders, especially when she twirled round to show him her gown from the back, saying,

  “Her Grace has been so kind, and I never, never in my whole life expected to have such lovely gowns as she has given me. They are very definitely part of my miracle.”

  “And a very becoming one,” the Duke added.

  There was a slightly mocking note in his voice and Anita was not certain whether he was pleased or thought it presumptuous of her to accept such expensive presents from his mother.

  “I want to talk with you, Kerne,” the Duchess said, “but before we do so, I would like you to see the way Anita and I have arranged the ballroom.”

  The Duke raised his eyebrows.

  “The ballroom?”

  “Yes, dearest, we are giving a ball on Saturday night. I thought it would make the party go with a swing and melt away any embarrassment there might be among our younger guests.”

  She thought there was a slightly ominous look in her son’s eyes and she added quickly,

  “It will only be a very small ball, just the house party and our friends in the immediate neighbourhood. I do hope the idea pleases you.”

  “Of course, I am delighted with whatever arrangements you have made,” the Duke said hastily.

  “Then go and look at the ballroom,” the Duchess suggested, “and if it is not to your liking, then of course we can – change things.”

  The way his mother spoke told the Duke that it would be a difficult thing to do.

  Because he wished to please her, he rose to his feet and Anita ran ahead of him towards the door. Only as they walked together down the passage which led to the ballroom in another part of the great house did she say, a little nervously,

  “I do hope you do not – mind my – staying here as your mother – asked me to do. She has also – invited me to be – present at your – ball.”

  There was no mistaking the anxiety in her voice, as if she was afraid he might disapprove, but the Duke replied,

  “As you are so small, I daresay we can squeeze you in!”

  She knew he was teasing her and once again she gave a little skip as she walked beside him and said,

  “It is so very very thrilling! I have never been to a ball before and my gown is so beautiful!”

  She paused and then she said in a different tone,

  “I have been waiting ever since I came to Ollerton for you to arrive so that I could thank you. I have never been so happy as I am here with your mother. We have had such fun arranging the ballroom, which I do hope will be to your liking.”

  It struck the Duke that most girls of Anita’s age might have found it rather dull even at Ollerton to be alone with an older woman and with no other distractions for nearly two weeks.

  But there was no doubt that Anita’s eyes were shining and there was an excitement as well as a sincerity in what she said which made it impossible not to believe that she spoke the truth.

  They reached the ballroom and the Duke, standing in the doorway, stared about him in surprise.

  He had always thought that the long ballroom, which had been added at the beginning of Queen Victoria’s reign, was not a particularly interesting addition to the house, which was otherwise a fine example of Adam architecture.

  Now it was transformed and he wondered how much the transformation came from Anita’s imagination.

  Instead of the cream-coloured walls with somewhat pretentious pillars and uninspired decorations, the whole room had been converted into a picture of Venice.

  At the far end there was a mural, which made him think he was looking onto the canal by moonlight with San Marco in the distance. In the foreground there were lighted gondolas being propelled along the smooth water.

  From the ceiling were hung curtains of crimson satin that made the room appear like a tent and it was lit by the traditional gold lanterns of Venice.

  Round the floor in place of the conventional chairs were benches covered with silk cushions and with a high prow at one end such as was to be found on every gondola.

  The Duke was aware that Anita was watching his face with a worried expression in her eyes and after a pause he said,

  “Very effective, and something we have not seen at Ollerton before!”

  “You really like it?”

  “I can certainly recognise it for the place it is supposed to be,” the Duke replied.

  Anita gave a little cry of delight.

  “That is what I hoped you would say. Her Grace has never visited Venice, so we had to rely on the pictures we could find in books in the library.”

  “I have a feeling,” the Duke said, “ that this was your idea and you tempted my mother into such extravagance.

  “Her Grace did say she thought the room was rather ugly and that perhaps if we had garlands of flowers or something like that, it would be an improvement.”

  “But instead, prompted by one of your daydreams, you thought up this idea of Venice.”

  “You are pleased – you really are – pleased?” Anita asked anxiously.

  “I think you would be very disappointed if I said anything different,” the Duke replied.

  “I wanted you not to see it until Saturday night, but Her Grace was just a little afraid that you would think it too fanciful.”

  “I cannot imagine our guests will be able to say such complimentary things as an Italian gallant would manage to do,” the Duke said, “but at least I hope they do their best to produce the right amount of romance you are expecting.”

  Again he was teasing Anita and he saw a little flush come into her face and knew without her saying so that because of her experience at Harrogate, she would resist the idea of any man approaching her amorously.

  It was an attitude he had not expected.

  At the same time he thought it was inevitable, after she had been so frightened by the idea of being forced to marry her great-aunt’s pet Parson, that she would be afraid of all men.

  ‘She is very young,’ he thought to himself, ‘and of course, to her, being brought up in a small village, men are an unknown quantity. It would be a pity if she avoids them too strenuously and then misses a lot of fun.’

  Then he thought that, if in fact she did begin to enjoy being pursued by men, the compliments they would pay her and the flirtations they would expect, it would undoubtedly spoil the child-like atmosphere she created that made her resemble a small angel.

  He saw now that she had moved nearer to the mural at the end of the room and was staring at the gondolas on the canal as if she could really see them and the exquisite piazzas behind them.

  “Are you praying that one day a miracle will carry you to the most glamorous City in the world?” the Duke asked.

  “I was thinking of its history,” Anita replied. “When I was looking for pictures of Venice, I read how the Venetians wasted their lives in pleasure-seeking and so lost their power and even their trade. It seems such a pity.”

  “Are you really saying that pleasure-seeking is a waste of time?” the Duke enquired.

  “I think everyone wants pleasure,” Anita replied seriously. “Equally it should be earned, like a holiday.”

  The Duke did not speak and after a moment she said,

  “Your mother has told me how regularly you speak in the House of Lords and how you work at bringing your houses and your estate to
perfection. That is why I so wanted this party to be an enjoyable one for you, especially as there is a particular reason for its being given.”

  The Duke frowned again.

  If there was one thing he disliked, it was having his private affairs talked about, even by his mother. Then somehow, because Anita had spoken so naturally, it did not annoy him as much as it might have done had she been somebody else.

  As if she knew that she had spoken too seriously, she said lightly,

  “The scene is set, everything is ready, and it only remains for you to play the part of Paris.”

  There was a lilt in her voice, as if she found the idea extremely romantic and the Duke with a wry twist of his lips replied,

  “So you are suggesting it is the Golden Apple I am to present?”

  Anita gave a little chuckle.

  “I think, Your Grace, it is really a coronet, but I expect whoever receives it will feel it is one and the same thing!”

  The Duke thought this was really going too far and he felt that it was a definite impertinence.

  Then, before he could remonstrate with her, she said,

  “I must not stay here talking. Her Grace will be longing to know what you feel about the room. She was so afraid it might not please you. But I will tell her that everything is all right.”

  She spoke the last words over her shoulder, as she began to run along the dance floor and before the Duke could think of anything to say, she had disappeared through the door by which they had entered the room.

  It was certainly unusual, he thought, for a woman, when she could be alone with him, to hurry away to talk to somebody else! As he walked slowly back to the front of the house, he thought he had been extremely clever to rescue Anita from a disastrous marriage and at the same time to find somebody to amuse and help his mother.

  At dinner that evening there were only the three of them and the Duke put himself out to entertain not only the Duchess but Anita, who looked at him with wide eyes and listened with rapt attention to everything he had to say.

  At the same time she was not in the least shy and she made occasional quaint little remarks which made him laugh.

  Because he realised that it was no use standing on his dignity when Anita obviously had the full confidence of his mother, they talked quite naturally and without reserve about the three girls who had been invited to Ollerton to meet him.

  “I don’t mind telling you, Mama,” the Duke said, “that Rosemary Castor, on second acquaintance, was extremely disappointing.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” the Duchess said. “I thought you said last year that she seemed an attractive young woman.”

  “She is now over-hearty and she gave me the impression of looking like a well-bred horse!” the Duke remarked.

  The Duchess smiled a little ruefully and Anita said,

  “When I went down to your stables and saw your horses, I knew I would much rather marry one of them than the Reverend Joshua!”

  “I was just wondering,” the Duke replied teasingly, “if your pedigree is good enough for you to be a suitable bride for Thunderer or Hercules!”

  Anita knew he was referring to his two finest stallions, which she had already been told were the pride of his stable.

  “I certainly would not aspire as high as either!” she flashed. “But yesterday Thunderer did allow me, with great condescension, to pat his neck and hand him a carrot!”

  The Duke frowned.

  “You must be careful,” he said. “Thunderer is not always to be trusted. I hope you did not go into his stall?”

  “I am not answering that question,” Anita replied, “in case you are angry with me or your Head Groom!”

  “I suppose you are trying to tell me that through some Divine protection even my horses will not hurt you.

  “If I say ‘yes’ it will sound conceited,” Anita replied. “If I say ‘no’ it might be unlucky!”

  The Duke laughed.

  “You are not the angel you pretend to be,” he sighed. “I think that in fact you are so devious in your ways, Anita, that you belong to another hemisphere altogether.”

  “If you recognise me,” Anita answered quickly, “there is nothing I can say to defend myself!”

  The Duke was amused by the sharpness of her mind and they sparred and argued with each other until the meal ended.

  He rather expected, because it would be the usual procedure among his guests, that when his mother retired to bed immediately after dinner, Anita would make some excuse to continue their conversation and remain with him.

  Instead she went upstairs with the Duchess and he did not see her again that night.

  *

  The following morning after breakfast he went to the stables, as he usually did, to look at his horses and found that Anita was already there.

  She was in fact standing inside Thunderer’s stall giving him a carrot with one hand and patting his neck with the other.

  The Duke watched her for some minutes before she was aware of his presence. Then she looked round and saw him, and there was a faint flush on her cheeks as she said,

  “Your Grace is early! I understood that you did not come to the stables before nine-thirty.”

  “So you were stealing a march on me!”

  “I thought I should not come today, as you are here,” Anita replied, “but then I was worried that Thunderer might miss the carrot I always give him.”

  “Then I presume, having ingratiated yourself with my horses,” the Duke commented, “that you will expect me to take you riding.”

  He saw by the expression in Anita’s eyes that she had never thought such an adventure.

  She looked into his face to see if he was serious before she said,

  “Would you – do you mean that? Could I – go with you? I have ridden once since I have been here, but I did not like to leave Her Grace alone.”

  “What is my mother doing at the moment?” the Duke enquired.

  “She is having her hair washed,” Anita answered, “so that she will look beautiful, as she always does, when your guests arrive this afternoon.”

  “In which case I presume you are off duty?”

  He paused, knowing that Anita was tense as she waited, almost like one of his dogs who sensed he was about to be taken for a walk.

  The Duke drew his watch from his waistcoat pocket and suggested,

  “I will give you exactly five minutes in which to change. I will wait for you at the front door and if you are any longer I shall leave without you!”

  Anita gave a cry of delight.

  Then she was running from the stables, holding up her crinoline with both hands as she did so.

  The Duke watched her go, then began to talk to his Head Groom about the horses he had not seen for some weeks.

  A little later, riding across the park, he thought Anita, on a horse that seemed too big for her, looked extremely attractive in a tight-waisted habit of blue piqué and a high hat trimmed with a gauze veil.

  The Duke had chosen too many gowns for a succession of lovely ladies over the years not to be a connoisseur of a woman’s appearance and he was aware that his mother with unerring good taste had chosen for Anita clothes that were perfect for both her height and her youth.

  But no dressmaker could improve her flower-like face, the shining innocence and excitement in her blue eyes or the mischievous little smile which often twisted her cupid’s bow mouth.

  She was certainly an engaging little creature, the Duke thought to himself, and knew he had been right in thinking that she had a way with horses which was something that could not be taught.

  Riding beside him, Anita knew that no man could look more handsome, appearing to be an indivisible part of the horse on which he was mounted.

  Her imagination made her wonder if there were any animals to be found in Hades.

  Then she told herself that animals were born without sin and, if they became bad-tempered or savage, it was due entirely to the treatment they re
ceived from mankind.

  No, Heaven would be filled with animals, for it would not be Heaven without them, while in Hell it would be one of the things one longed for and could not have.

  The Duke’s voice broke in on her thoughts,

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Because she did not wish to say that indirectly she was thinking of him, she replied,

  “I was thinking of animals and of how much they mean in our lives.”

  “Have you owned many?” he enquired.

  “Papa had a number of horses until his accident and of course we had dogs and when I was small I had a cat who used to sleep curled up on my bed.”

  “And that taught you how to handle a horse like Thunderer?”

  “I think the answer to that is that I love him and he knows it,” Anita answered. “It is much easier for a horse and, I suppose any animal, to be aware of what we are thinking and feeling than it is for us nowadays to feel the same about a human being.”

  “Why ‘nowadays’?” the Duke asked curiously.

  “Because we do not use our sixth sense.”

  “Do you think that is what you were doing when you recognised me the first time we met?”

  “No,” Anita replied, “I was seeing with my eyes. It was not until later, when you were so kind to me and helped me to escape, that I realised you had not fallen from Heaven as I imagined but in fact were living in it here at Ollerton.”

  “I wish that was true.”

  “But it is true!” Anita said positively. “How can you be so ungrateful?”

  “Ungrateful?”

  “Not to recognise that there is no place that could be more beautiful or more perfect than the house and estate that belong to you. Besides which, you have a mother who loves you more than anyone else in the world.”

  Anna’s voice was soft as she spoke of the Duchess.

  For a little while they rode on in silence and it was inevitable that the Duke’s mind was on the young women who were arriving to stay that afternoon, one of whom, as his wife, would share with him the perfection of Ollerton.

  Strangely, as if she could read his thoughts without his saying them aloud, Anita asked very quietly,

  “Must you do this?”