A Very Special Love

by Barbara Cartland

“You have – saved – me! You have – saved me! Just how can – you have been – so wonderful?”

  Chapter Three

  The Marquis, intent on his horses, did not turn his head until they had travelled some way.

  Then, when he realised that they were now quite a distance from the Convent, he looked round at Zia.

  He saw two very large, dark blue eyes in an exquisite little face that he thought was outstandingly pretty.

  Then he decided that the right word was ‘lovely’.

  She was, he thought, exactly what he would have expected the Colonel’s daughter to be like and he then said with a smile,

  “Now I know that you really are your father’s daughter!”

  Zia laughed.

  “It was very clever of you to guess that Sister Martha was ‒ impersonating me.”

  “Not really,” the Marquis answered. “I could not believe that your father, who was one of the most handsome men I have ever met, could have produced anything so plain.”

  “You saved me!” Zia enthused. “I cannot think of how to thank you, my Lord.”

  “We will talk about that later,” the Marquis replied. “For the moment the quicker we can get away from here the better.”

  They drove for some way in silence before Zia said,

  “Sister Martha told me that you had promised to look after her and Father Proteus will certainly punish her. If he throws her out of the Convent, she has nowhere else to go.”

  “We must rescue her as quickly as possible,” the Marquis said, “and you must tell me, Zia, how you managed to get yourself in such a mess.”

  There was silence between them and, since he thought that perhaps it was embarrassing, he suggested swiftly,

  “Keep it until I have you safely on board my yacht.”

  Zia gave a little cry of excitement.

  “You came in your yacht?”

  “I thought that perhaps Father Proteus might have told you.”

  “He told me nothing! When I was locked in my bedroom I guessed that something was happening, but there was no way that I could escape.”

  As the road was twisting and narrow at this point, the Marquis had to drive carefully in case they should encounter another vehicle coming in the opposite direction.

  He did not therefore ask the question that he was most curious to know the answer to.

  Only when they drove down to the Falmouth quay and he saw The Unicorn looking very large and white ahead did he think with a sense of relief that they were now out of danger.

  A seaman was waiting to run to the horses’ heads and the Marquis, putting down his reins, alighted and then went round the chaise to help Zia to the ground.

  But, without any assistance, she sprang out with the swiftness of a young fawn.

  Now he could look at her properly, he saw that she was, as he had already ascertained, very beautiful indeed.

  At the same time she looked somewhat strange with her long gold hair flecked with red falling over her shoulders.

  She was wearing a hideous black dress made of a coarse material and, when she started to walk towards the gangway, he realised that she did so in her stockinged feet.

  He knew without being told that she had been given a pair of the thick-soled ugly shoes that were worn by nuns and she had kicked them off so as to be able to climb the tree more easily.

  As the Marquis reached the deck where the Captain was waiting, he gave him his orders,

  “Put to sea at once, Captain Blackburn, with all possible speed and make for Plymouth.”

  “Very good, my Lord.”

  The Marquis followed Zia into the Saloon and, as she heard the engines starting beneath her, she clasped her hands together and cried,

  “I cannot believe – this is – true! I thought I was – doomed and the – only way I could escape would be by – dying!”

  The Marquis replied quietly,

  “It’s all over now and I think we should celebrate by having a glass of champagne.”

  “That is – what Papa used to do when he – won a Steeplechase!”

  The Marquis gave the order for the champagne and by the time it arrived the yacht was out of the Harbour and into the open sea.

  Zia was watching through the porthole and, as the yacht began to feel the pressure of the waves, she sighed as if she was speaking to herself,

  “Now I am – no longer – afraid.”

  “Come and sit down,” the Marquis suggested. “Drink a little of your champagne and tell me exactly what has happened to you.”

  Zia obeyed him and he thought that, despite the irregular movement of the yacht, she had an unmistakable grace in the way she walked.

  “I was a day girl at the Convent while my Aunt Mary was alive,” she began, “and when she died – Father Proteus suggested that I came to stay as a boarder for a – little while until I could find – a relative or somebody else to – chaperone me.”

  “Why did you not write to me?” the Marquis asked.

  “Had I done so before I went to the Convent, you might have received my letter. I wrote several times after I arrived there until I became aware that there was no hope of your ever receiving them.”

  The Marquis frowned.

  “That man who calls himself ‘Father Proteus’ must have planned it from the moment he heard that you were your aunt’s heir.”

  “I realised that – afterwards,” Zia said in a low voice, “and, of course – after the funeral, when the Solicitor told me how – rich I was, everybody was – talking about it.”

  The Marquis was about to comment, but she cried,

  “If you only know how I have gone over it, night after night and thought how I should have been in touch with you or some other relatives, before I – listened to – Father Proteus.”

  “I quite understand that it seemed the easiest thing to do at the time,” the Marquis said.

  “I was so upset at losing Aunt Mary and also Cornwall was a long way from the people I had known when Papa and Mama were alive, but it was – stupid of me – very stupid.”

  “Stop blaming yourself,” the Marquis replied. “You could hardly have guessed that the man who called himself a Priest was nothing more or less than a criminal.”

  “When he told me I had to – take the veil,” Zia went on, “I thought he – must have gone mad! Then I was moved into the nuns’ part of the house well away from the pupils who came every day for their lessons, many of whom were – my friends. It was then I – realised that I was – his prisoner.”

  “It must have been very frightening,” the Marquis remarked sympathetically.

  “I was – terrified!” Zia admitted. “I had no idea that the men Father Proteus employed, who only came in for a few hours every day, were thugs who would knock anyone out or ill-treat – an intruder.”

  Zia paused to cough and then resumed her story,

  “If they had caught – us just now when they came – through the gates – they would most undoubtedly have knocked you unconscious – if they had not – killed you!”

  “I can hardly believe it,” the Marquis exclaimed. “It seems incredible to me that these evil characters have not been discovered before now.”

  “Sister Martha said that she had told you about – the other heiress whom they – most certainly killed once they had their – greedy hands on her – money.”

  “Did nobody investigate her death at the time or make enquiries?” the Marquis asked.

  “They said that she had fallen down a flight of stairs and – broken her neck, “Zia replied. “Which in fact was – what she had – done except that they had – pushed her.”

  There was a little tremor in her voice that told the Marquis it was what she had expected might happen to her.

  “It’s all over now,” he repeated comfortingly.

  She did not reply and after a moment he asked,

  “What are you thinking?”

  “It passed through my mind that Father Proteus will not g
ive up – so easily,” Zia said in a low voice. “Also – if you intend to report to – anybody what has – happened, then I am sure that he will – try to avenge himself in some way or another.”

  “I think that is highly unlikely. What I have to do, Zia, and I know you will understand, is to speak to the Lord Lieutenant of Cornwall and also to the Chief Constable.”

  Zia did not reply and after a moment he went on,

  “Apart from anything else we have to save Sister Martha. I promised that I would look after her in the future and find her somewhere to live if she does not wish to go into another Convent.”

  “She is a very good person,” Zia said, “and I think she would be happiest in a Convent, but not – like the one that we have just – left!”

  She shuddered and, because the Marquis thought that it was a mistake to let her go on worrying, he said,

  “I imagine that the first thing we have to do now is to find you something to wear.”

  Zia laughed.

  “I had forgotten how extraordinary I must look! When they moved me into the nuns’ side of the house, they gave me what I am wearing now and took away all my own clothes.”

  “I daresay we can find you something in Plymouth,” the Marquis commented, “that will save you from arriving in London looking like a crow and after that Bond Street will be at your disposal!”

  Zia looked at him and then she asked,

  “My – my money is – safe?”

  “No one can touch it without my permission,” the Marquis replied, “and I will notify the Bank where you are as soon as we arrive at my house in Park Lane.”

  Zia smiled before she said,

  “Thank you! Thank you, my Lord, for thinking of – everything. I can hardly believe that I no longer – need feel so afraid or expect to be – killed once Father Proteus has taken – possession of – everything I own!”

  “If we can prove that he definitely killed that other girl who was an heiress,” the Marquis said thoughtfully, “or conspired with others as an accessory in murdering her, then he will undoubtedly be hanged.”

  He knew by the expression on Zia’s face that only then would she feel that she was completely free Father Proteus

  He told himself that it was inevitable, having suffered so much at the man’s hands, that the whole experience would upset her for a long time.

  But he was certain that once she was in a different environment and was enjoying the Social Season in London as she should be doing at her age, it would soon fade from her mind.

  Because he thought that it was important, he deliberately talked to her about the old days.

  He told her how fond he and all his brother Officers had been of her father and praised his brilliant riding.

  “I suppose you ride yourself?” he asked her.

  “I had horses when I was living with Aunt Mary,” Zia replied, “but it was not the same as riding with Papa. He always inspired me to do better.”

  “That is what I think we all felt when we served under him,” the Marquis reflected.

  It was dark before the yacht reached Plymouth.

  The Marquis had written two letters, which he arranged for one of his seamen to deliver immediately.

  One was to the Lord Lieutenant of Cornwall and the other to the Chief Constable of the County.

  He thought that it would assuage any nervousness Zia might feel at being still not a very great distance from Father Proteus.

  He therefore ordered Winton and another member of his crew to be on guard all night, both of them armed.

  *

  The following morning, as soon as the shops were open, Captain Blackburn went ashore.

  His instructions were to buy some clothes for Zia that would at least make her look more conventional than she did at the moment.

  She had dined with the Marquis the previous night wearing his silk nightshirt and a robe that he wore in the summer and was therefore made of a thin material.

  Because it was much too long, she had turned up the hem and the cuffs with safety pins.

  There was a sash to tie round her small waist and it seemed in some strange way quite a becoming garment.

  Being a deep sea blue it echoed the colour of her eyes, which the Marquis thought were different from the blue of any other eyes he had ever seen.

  He had never actually dined alone with a young girl before.

  He had always imagined, when his relatives kept telling him that he must take one for a wife that she would undoubtedly be not only boring but ignorant of anything that he himself was interested in.

  Zia, however, looking very young, talked to him of horses that she knew a great deal about.

  She also knew the history of her father’s Regiment and that of several others that the Marquis was interested in and was extremely knowledgeable about them.

  She asked him intelligent questions about his estate and, because she had always lived in the country, they could discuss rural problems.

  These included persuading the labourers to accept new machinery, the innovation of which they were extremely suspicious.

  In fact by late evening the Marquis thought that he might have been dining with Harry for they would have discussed very much the same subjects.

  He sent Zia to bed early, knowing that she was tired not only from the drama and anxiety of what had happened during the day, but he understood from what she had said that she had not slept properly for a long time being so afraid of what might happen to her in the future.

  He could hardly believe it possible that Father Proteus would have actually dared to murder her.

  Yet what was to stop him once he had complete control of her money?

  When the Marquis himself eventually went to bed in his comfortable cabin, he was still thinking over what had happened during the day and all that he had heard.

  It was difficult to believe that he had not stepped into a drama that was taking place in a Playhouse.

  Or he might have been reading a horror novel where everything that happened sprang from the frightful imagination of the author who had written it.

  It never struck him when he did fall asleep that he had not given one thought to Yasmin since the previous evening.

  *

  The Marquis had finished his breakfast and was wondering if Zia had eaten hers in her cabin when she came into the Saloon.

  For a moment he just stared at her.

  Then he realised that, if last night she had seemed attractive in his robe with her hair tied back with a piece of ribbon, now dressed as a young lady she was breathtaking!

  The best that Plymouth could provide was a simple summer gown of some thin material. The skirt was full with a fairly small bustle at the back while Zia’s tiny waist was encircled by a blue sash that almost matched her eyes.

  The Captain must have bought her hairpins a well for she had arranged her hair in a chignon.

  The Marquis noticed that she had a long swan-like neck besides an exquisitely curved figure.

  She stood for a moment in the doorway of the Saloon and, as he rose to his feet, he said,

  “You look now exactly as your father would have wanted you to!”

  Zia laughed delightedly.

  “I feel more like myself again and I have already thrown that hideous nun’s robe out of the porthole.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “I hope it sank to the bottom taking all your worries with it!”

  Zia sat down at the table and the Stewards brought in the dishes that had been kept hot until she appeared.

  “I forgot last night,” she said as she helped herself, “to thank you for the first delicious meal I have had for months. I so enjoyed talking to you that I forgot my manners.”

  The way she spoke, the Marquis thought, was quite different from the way any other woman would have expressed her pleasure of his company.

  Whereas last night he had thought, as he looked at Zia, that she was little more than a child, today she was a young
woman, one he was aware would appear like a shining light in London Society.

  He had already planned while he was dressing that he would ask his grandmother if she would present Zia to the Social world.

  The Dowager Marchioness, although she was now getting on for seventy, was still very active.

  She found the pretty Dower House at Oke Castle boring because she was so often alone. So she made every possible excuse to go to London and she stayed at the Marquis’s house in Park Lane, where she had once been the most celebrated hostess in the Social world.

  ‘Grandmama will enjoy having a debutante to look after,’ the Marquis mused, ‘and, as Zia is so entrancing, it will not be at all difficult to find her a suitable husband.’

  It struck him that, as she was so rich, there would inevitably be a multitude of fortune-Hunters who would pursue her.

  He told himself severely that, as her Guardian, he must be careful to ensure that she was married for herself and not for her money.

  Now, looking at her, he was quite certain that there would be dozens of men who would fall in love with her almost as soon as they saw her.

  He knew that, if he was to be a conscientious Guardian for his Ward, it would take up a great deal of his time.

  He was not sure if he resented that prospect or whether it might provide him with a new interest.

  “Are we going to stay here long?” Zia asked as she put down her knife and fork.

  It was a simple question.

  But the Marquis was aware that she was still frightened that Father Proteus might appear in some devilish way of his own and drag her back into his clutches.

  “We will leave the moment I have spoken to the Lord Lieutenant,” he replied, “but I am afraid, Zia, you will have to answer a certain number of questions about the Convent.”

  He thought that she was going to refuse and he added quickly,

  “I know it is uncomfortable for you, but we must think of Sister Martha and also make quite certain that these criminals do not force other helpless girls into their clutches, who are not as agile as you are at climbing oak trees.”

  He spoke lightly to relieve the tension and Zia answered him,

  “Of course I must and perhaps the old nuns will be able to stay on, even though I am sure that Father Proteus has either spent or crooked away every penny that was there before he arrived.”