A Duel With Destiny

by Barbara Cartland

  “You made your feelings perfectly clear.”

  “Then why not do as I ask and leave me alone?”

  “That is unfortunately something I am unable to do.”

  “If this is just another trick to try to force me into doing what you wish, I shall be exceedingly angry.”

  The Marquis appeared to be intent on his driving and after a moment she went on,

  “I have asked my grandfather to speak to you, which I think he intended to do some time this afternoon. He understands the whole situation and agrees that in the circumstances there is no point in your seeing me again or having anything to do with my family.”

  “Your grandfather intends to take you all under his wing?”

  It was a question that Rowena could not answer with any satisfaction.

  She thought bitterly that the Marquis was well aware that her grandfather could do nothing for her or the children without it being an intolerable insult to her father.

  “My grandfather’s intentions can be of no interest to you,” she managed to say, “and I want an answer, my Lord, as to why you are here and where you are taking me. I have to be home by four o’clock.”

  “I am afraid you will be late,” the Marquis answered.

  “But – why?”

  Then, as Rowena asked the question, she realised that they had reached a turning that led not towards Little Powick but directly to Swayneling Park.

  “Where are we going?” she asked quickly. “I have told you that I have to be home before four and I insist that you turn your horses immediately and take me there.”

  “And if I don’t obey you?” the Marquis asked.

  She looked at him uncertainly out of the corner of her eyes.

  The only alternative she could think of was to jump out of the phaeton. That not only would be very undignified, but she would certainly hurt herself. What was more the Marquis would doubtless merely pick her up again and carry on as he intended.

  Rowena bit her lip with irritation and felt her temper rising.

  Whatever she did she seemed to come up against the Marquis in a way that made her feel small and ineffectual.

  She had planned last night to defy him in a manner that would make him humble and apologetic, instead of which he seemed more overwhelming and more awe-inspiring than ever.

  She thought that he was looking grim and rather stern, but that was not the expression she wanted to see on his face.

  It was also, although she hated to admit it, somewhat intimidating.

  She relapsed into silence and they drove on until suddenly there in front of them were the huge stone-flanked wrought iron gates of Swayneling Park.

  The Marquis turned in at them and now a thousand thoughts flashed through Rowena’s mind as to what his intentions were in taking her to his house.

  Did he mean to impress her as she had been impressed when she had journeyed down the same drive in Edward Lawson’s chaise?

  Or was there a stranger and perhaps more sinister reason that she could not fathom?

  Then, as she saw the great house, exquisite in the afternoon sunshine, the windows flashing iridescent in front of them, the Marquis turned to the left. Nestling among the trees in the Park there was a small grey Church that Rowena had not noticed on her previous visit.

  It was not far from the main drive down a narrow roadway to the lych-gate, which opened into a small churchyard filled with ancient tombstones.

  The Marquis drew his horses to a standstill and Sam ran to their heads.

  Then the Marquis threw down the reins and began to take off his driving gloves.

  As he did so, he turned to look at Rowena.

  Her eyes were very large in her small face.

  “Why have you brought me – here?” she asked and her voice was hardly above a whisper.

  “To marry you!” the Marquis replied.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  For a moment it was impossible to speak.

  Then Rowena replied,

  “I will never marry you! Nothing you can say or do will – make me!”

  She saw that the Marquis’s expression did not change as he answered quietly,

  “There is, of course, an alternative.”

  “What is – that?”

  “If you refuse to marry me, I will take you to my house and keep you there for a week. I shall then notify your father and your grandfather where you are and I think you will find that they will both do their best to persuade you to become my wife.”

  At first Rowena could hardly understand what he was saying.

  Then she gasped,

  “You – cannot do – that to me!”

  “I can and I will!” the Marquis replied firmly.

  She met his eyes defiantly. Then she felt that, while he looked grim and was saying one thing, his eyes were saying something very different.

  Despite herself, despite every resolution not to be moved by him, she felt her heart begin to beat frantically in a manner she knew so well.

  “The choice is yours,” the Marquis said. “It has to be one or the other.”

  Desperately Rowena tried to think of another solution.

  She could try to run away, but the Marquis would easily catch her and she would appear most undignified in front of Sam.

  She knew too that if he took her to Swayneling Park that there would be no escape.

  The servants would obey him and moreover in some secret part of herself she knew that if she was alone with the Marquis for a week she would find it very difficult to refuse what he wanted of her whether she was married or not.

  ‘I love him!’ she thought despairingly, ‘and yet at the same time I hate him for what he has done to me!’

  The horses moved uneasily and it was as if they rather than the Marquis made up Rowena’s mind.

  “I will – marry – you,” she said in a voice that was hardly audible.

  “I thought you would see sense,” he replied.

  He climbed down from the phaeton and lifted Rowena to the ground.

  She thought that he might hold her for a moment against him, but his hands only held her waist.

  Then, after he had opened the lych-gate and she passed through it, he offered her his arm.

  She felt as if she moved in a dream and that what was happening could not be true. Yet they walked along the short pathway to the Church porch and without pausing passed through it into the aisle.

  The Church was small, quiet, cool and dim.

  There were six candles burning on the altar, an old Priest in a white surplice was waiting for them and there was the fragrance of lilies.

  The Marquis’s firm footsteps seemed to echo as he walked up the aisle, while Rowena’s in contrast seemed light and somehow hesitant.

  When they reached the altar steps, the Clergyman opened his book and began the Service.

  Rowena had taken her hand from the Marquis’s arm and she felt somehow alone and separated from him until the moment when he took her fingers in his.

  Then she felt a little quiver run through her and his voice sounded very grave and serious as he repeated the well-known words,

  “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.”

  ‘This is what I have always wanted,’ she told herself.

  Yet she knew that there was a shadow on her happiness that could never be erased.

  It was only because of her grandfather that they were being married and, if she had not turned to him for protection, the Marquis would have remained resolute in his decision that he would not ask her to be his wife.

  She felt the ring encircle her finger and she wondered how the Marquis had known that it would fit her perfectly.

  Then they were kneeling side by side and the old Priest was blessing them.

  “May God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve and keep you – ”

  Without r
eally meaning to Rowena had slipped her hand into the Marquis’s and she felt his fingers tighten on hers.

  They were married.

  She belonged to him and now there was no looking back, no escape.

  She closed her eyes to pray that despite everything they would be happy and that he would love her as she loved him – not as much, that would be impossible, but at least there might be some of the glory and rapture left that she had felt when he had first kissed her.

  He helped her to her feet, and she found that the Clergyman had gone and they were alone in the quiet little Church.

  She looked up at him and felt that there was a look of triumph in his eyes and another expression that she did not understand.

  She looked away from him and he took her hand to slip it through his arm so that he could escort her down the aisle.

  There was only silence in the Church and yet Rowena felt that she heard music – music that came from their hearts and joined with the voices of angels.

  *

  The Marquis helped her into the phaeton and the horses, anxious to reach their stables, which they sensed were near, set off at a sharp pace.

  There was no chance of speaking and indeed Rowena felt that she had nothing to say.

  It all seemed unreal, something that had happened in her imagination rather than in fact.

  The Marquis drew up with a flourish at the front door and the servants were already there waiting.

  “May I congratulate your Lordship and wish her Ladyship every happiness,” the butler intoned.

  “Thank you, Newman,” the Marquis replied.

  “Rowena,” he said addressing her for the first time since they had left the Church, “this is Newman who has been with my family for over thirty years. I could not possibly do without him.”

  Rowena held out her hand.

  “All the staff wish to welcome you to Swayneling Park, my Lady.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Her Ladyship is tired,” the Marquis said. “We were up late last night and she has had a long journey from London. If Mrs. Mayfield is waiting to look after her, I think that she should rest until dinner.”

  “Mrs. Mayfield is at the top of the stairs, my Lord,” Newman answered.

  The Marquis escorted Rowena to the foot of them.

  “I suggest you have some sleep,” he said. “We will not dine until eight, which will give you plenty of time.”

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

  Rowena had a sudden impulse to hold onto him and say that she did not wish to be alone with Mrs. Mayfield or anyone else, but to stay with him.

  She felt very shy and lost and unable to keep up with the swift passage of events.

  But obediently, because he expected it of her, she walked up the wide staircase to where waiting at the top landing was an elderly housekeeper dressed in black with a chatelaine hanging from her waist.

  She curtseyed, saying as she did so,

  “This is a very happy day for all of us, my Lady. We’ve wished for a long time that his Lordship would bring home a Mistress for Swayneling Park.”

  *

  Rowena awoke to find surprisingly that she had slept for a long time, and dreamlessly.

  She had indeed felt tired, not because she had been late the night before, but because of all the conflicting emotions she had felt during the day.

  She had known when spending the morning with her grandfather that there was a bond between them that she had not expected and that however difficult it might be she would like to see him again.

  It was as if he was a close link with her mother and there was an affinity between them that she could not find with anyone else.

  But she knew that she had to leave him. He would pass out of her life and become only a memory of brief kindness and generosity.

  The feelings that the Marquis had evoked in her were very different.

  While she still resented fiercely and rebelliously the way that he had forced her to marry him, she could not repress a secret joy in knowing that she was his wife.

  She had cried so despairingly and yearned for him with every nerve in her body, until now that they were actually married, it seemed impossible to believe that all the frustration and uncertainty was past.

  Yet, as she had thought in the Church, the shadow over their happiness was still there.

  ‘However much he might have wanted me just for myself,’ she thought as she lay in the great room Mrs. Mayfield had taken her, ‘it was not enough.’

  The housemaids were bringing in a bathtub of silver and setting it down on the hearthrug.

  Rowena gazed up at the exquisitely painted ceiling depicting Venus surrounded by cupids.

  She looked at the carved and gilded furniture, made she was sure in the reign of Charles II, which was also resplendent with cupids.

  She realised that the bed she was lying in was very large and draped with silk curtains of Nile blue embroidered with love knots.

  She blushed a little at the thought of what everything around her portended.

  Then, realising that her bath was ready, she stepped from the bed to bathe in water scented with lilies-of-the-valley.

  As she dressed, she could not help being glad that she could wear again the beautiful gown that her grandfather had given her last night for the fête at Carlton House.

  Amidst all the splendour that surrounded the Marquis, she felt that it would be easy for him to crush and override her if she did not feel a little surer of herself because she was well gowned.

  When she was dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror and knew that, while she had been pretty enough for the Prince Regent to admire last night, this evening she looked different.

  Her eyes were very large in her small face and yet there was an apprehensive look in them.

  It was fear of the unknown, she thought, and she was a little afraid of the Marquis.

  He had always seemed overpowering and he was even more so now that he was her husband.

  Yet she longed for him to admire her. Last night a collet of diamonds had encircled her throat and she thought that tonight without it she looked a little unfinished.

  “It’s a very lovely gown, my Lady,” the housekeeper was saying behind her, “and very fitting for a bride.”

  She paused and then she added,

  “We always expected his Lordship would bring home someone beautiful, but not as beautiful as you, my Lady!”

  Her words seemed to give Rowena the confidence she needed.

  She smiled her thanks and then with her chin held high she walked slowly down the stairs.

  Newman was waiting for her in the hall and he went ahead to open the door to what Rowena reckoned was the salon.

  It was the loveliest room she had ever seen with six long windows opening onto a terrace.

  The evening sun, gold with a touch of red, seemed to illuminate the room more brightly than the chandeliers could have done and it was in a rosy haze that Rowena saw the Marquis standing at the far end of it.

  He was as resplendent as he had been the night before, except that he wore no decorations.

  She moved towards him forcing herself to walk slowly although she longed to run.

  She wanted to be beside him, she wanted above everything for him to touch her and reassure her, to tell her that what had happened was real and they were together as she had always longed for them to be.

  “You look very lovely!”

  There was a note in the Marquis’s voice that brought the colour to her cheeks.

  Then he continued,

  “Last night you wore jewels that I had not given you. That is something which will never happen again. Let me give you my Wedding present.”

  She saw then that he had a box in his hand, but he did not give it to her.

  Instead he said,

  “I will put it on for you.”

  She looked in the mirror over the mantelshelf and in it she saw him move behind her. Then something fl
ashed and sparkled as he lifted it in his hands and put it round her neck to fasten it at the back.

  For a moment she was so dazzled by it that it was hard to see it distinctly. Then she saw that it was a magnificent necklace of diamonds fashioned in the semblance of flowers.

  It was very light but exquisitely beautiful and in the centre of each flower was a huge blue-white diamond.

  She felt the Marquis was waiting for her to speak and after a moment she managed to say,

  “It – is exquisite! Thank you – so very much!”

  “I have something else for you,” he said, “something that I hope you will always wear, even though we somehow omitted the formality of becoming engaged.”

  He took her left hand as he spoke and slipped onto her third finger a large diamond encircled with smaller ones.

  The ring was so large that it made her hand seem very fragile and, as she stared at it, bewildered at possessing anything so valuable, the door opened.

  “Dinner is served, my Lady!”

  Rowena realised that she had not thanked the Marquis for this present, which was a very personal one. She wondered as they walked towards the dining room whether she might have kissed him had the butler not interrupted them.

  The dining room was small which rather surprised her, until she learnt that it was not the great Baronial Hall, which was used when they had visitors, but a small room exclusively for their own use.

  The table was decorated with white flowers and several pieces of gold plate, which Rowena knew without asking must have been in the family for generations.

  She could not help feeling that, if she had not been aware of her relationship to the Earl of Dunvegan, she would have felt hopelessly insignificant because everything in this house was a reminder of the Marquis’s noble ancestry.

  She had not missed the family portraits along the passage or several that hung in the salon.

  Everywhere she looked, she thought, she could feel the eyes of earlier Swaynes following her.

  Even the crests on the silver seemed to proclaim the centuries in which they had carried such an emblem on their own persons, on the livery of their servants, on their swords and on their flags when they went into battle.

  Despite the fact that at first she felt she was too emotional to eat the delicious dishes that were brought one after the other to the table, they were hard to resist.