A Very Special Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “Thank you, my darling,” the Marquis said quietly and climbed out of the carriage.

  As he went into the house, he was not surprised to find that his secretary was waiting for him.

  “I have now brought Miss Langley home, Barrett,” he informed him, “and I have some important instructions to give you.”

  Mr. Barrett waited and the Marquis picked Zia up in his arms.

  “I am carrying you, because I think you have been through enough for one night and the sooner you go to bed and dream of me the better!”

  As he started up the stairs, she smiled up at him.

  “I shall dream of – you and keep thanking you – over and over again in – my heart.”

  He did not answer, but carried her down the corridor and into her bedroom where the candles were lit.

  There was no maid waiting, but the Marquis knew that he had only to pull the bell and she would come at once.

  Very gently he put Zia down on the bed and then, holding her close against him, kissed her fiercely and possessively.

  “You are mine!” he asserted. “We will talk about it tomorrow.”

  She looked at him, her eyes shining, and the Marquis thought that no woman could look more lovely or desirable.

  With an effort he turned towards the door.

  “Please – change your clothes at once,” Zia cried. “I am afraid you may ‒ catch a chill.”

  The Marquis was wearing just a shirt and a pair of tight-fitting black trousers.

  They were not as wet as they had been, but they were still damp and Zia was being sensible.

  “I will do as you tell me,” he said as he went from the room, “which, of course, I will always do in the future!”

  She laughed because she knew that it was she who would be obeying him, which was only what she wanted to do.

  Then before she pulled the bell for her maid, she knelt down beside the bed.

  Intensely she thanked God that she was safe and that Father Proteus could never hurt or threaten her again.

  *

  Zia had gone to sleep hoping that what hours were left of the night would pass quickly so that she could see the Marquis again.

  In fact she slept peacefully until after noon.

  When she eventually awoke, she rang for her breakfast, but before it could arrive Martha came into her room.

  “You are back! Thank God you are back,” she exclaimed. “Oh, Zia, we have all been so desperately concerned for you.”

  “I am back here safe thanks to his Lordship,” Zia smiled, “but Martha, it was very very frightening!”

  “It must have been,” Martha agreed, “but we have all had strict instructions from his Lordship not to speak about it to you, to each other or to anybody else.”

  Zia was surprised and then when she thought it over she knew that the Marquis was wise.

  If what had happened was talked about in the house, it would certainly soon be gossiped about by his smart friends and then the whole saga might appear in the newspapers.

  ‘Father Proteus is dead,’ she thought to herself, ‘and so the sooner everybody – forgets about – him the better.’

  Martha was, however, saying how worried everyone had been and before the Marquis arrived back Dobson had been in tears over the loss of his horses.

  “I have just heard from Mr. Barrett,” Martha went on, “that the horses and the carriage have been found and brought back to his Lordship’s stables.”

  “I am so glad. I could not bear such magnificent animals to be hurt or sold to somebody who was cruel to them.”

  “They are safe,” Martha smiled, “and now Mr. Barrett is thinking of taking me to the country next week to meet the lady who teaches at the estate school.”

  Because she sounded so excited about it, Zia changed the conversation from herself to Martha’s new career and her new clothes.

  All she really wanted, however, was to see the Marquis and, when she was dressed, she ran downstairs to find out if he was in the house.

  She found him in the study and, when she opened the door, he was alone.

  When he saw her, he rose from his desk and, moving to one side of it, held out his arms.

  She ran towards him and he pulled her close to him and kissed her until they were both breathless.

  “I was so afraid that you might have disappeared once again,” he said in his deep voice.

  “No, I am here and, when I woke up, I was sure that I was dreaming.”

  He kissed her again before he drew her towards the sofa and they both sat down.

  “I have been making a lot of arrangements,” he said. “First I went to see the Archbishop at Lambeth Palace and arrived there just as he was finishing his breakfast.”

  Zia looked at him wide-eyed and he explained,

  “He has given me a Special Licence and that means, my lovely one, that we can go to Oke Castle and be married tomorrow, soon after we arrive, by my Chaplain.”

  “M-married!” Zia whispered.

  “I want you with me both by day and by night,” the Marquis said emphasising the last word.

  Zia blushed and he thought that she looked as beautiful as dawn breaking over the sky.

  “I am not going to wait a minute longer,” he said. “Such unpredictable and extraordinary things happen to you that I am taking no more chances!”

  “I want to marry you – I want to be – your wife,” Zia whispered, “and it will be – very – very wonderful for me.”

  “And for me,” the Marquis said.

  He kissed her again and they only moved apart hastily when the door opened and Harry came in.

  “Good morning,” he said cheerily. “What has been happening? Zia never turned up at the party last night and you, Rayburn, failed to come riding with me this morning!”

  “I am sorry, Harry, but I have been very busy. Firstly I want you to congratulate me, because Zia has promised to become my wife!”

  “That is the best news I have heard in years!” Harry exclaimed. “Congratulations, old boy! And may I kiss your future bride?”

  “Just this once,” the Marquis agreed grudgingly, “but I don’t expect you to make a habit of it!”

  Harry laughed and kissed Zia on both cheeks.

  Then, as if he could not resist it, the Marquis said,

  “We will tell you what has happened, but you must never relate it to a living soul.”

  “I guessed that something was up,” Harry said. “Give me a glass of champagne to fortify myself before I hear the tale.”

  He settled himself in an armchair with a glass of champagne in his hand and listened in astonishment to the story that the Marquis unfolded to him.

  Only when it was all finished did he notice that his glass of champagne had remained untouched and he exclaimed,

  “I just cannot believe it! All I have to say, Rayburn, is that I will never forgive you for not letting me in on the rescue party.”

  “I visited The Unicorn this morning,” the Marquis remarked, “and I have never seen men so elated and pleased with themselves. Actually there were only three men to take to the Police Station where they have now been charged.”

  He glanced at Zia before he said a little hastily in case it should upset her,

  “The man who called himself ‘Father Proteus’ was drowned and so was Saul, otherwise they would both have been charged with murder. However the others have not been charged with kidnapping but only with stealing valuable relics from the Convent.”

  “That was clever of you,” Harry approved.

  “They have been forced to reveal the whereabouts of the loot and they will get several years imprisonment for theft.”

  “So that disposes of everything that was menacing,” Harry concluded.

  His eyes met the Marquis’s and they both knew that he was referring to Yasmin Caton.

  They all had luncheon together and talked of everything except the horror that Zia had been put through.

  After luncheon was
over, the Marquis said,

  “I still have a great deal to do and, as you will appreciate, my darling, the one person I must let into the secret that we are being married tomorrow night is the Prince of Wales. He would be extremely hurt if like everyone else he learnt of it the day after tomorrow in The Gazette.”

  “And we are going to the country,” Zia said quickly.

  She wanted to avoid meeting the beautiful ladies who had pursued the Marquis and who now would be upset because he was to be married.

  Because they would be so jealous, she was sure that they would make subtle remarks to him about her that might make the Marquis love her less.

  “We will leave soon after breakfast,” the Marquis promised, “and now I want you to rest, as Grandmama is doing, until teatime.”

  The Dowager Marchioness had been thrilled to learn that her grandson had found Zia and that she was safe.

  She had been so upset at what had happened that she had been advised to stay in bed, although she had said firmly that she would be down for dinner.

  “I will look forward to seeing you then, Grandmama,” the Marquis had said, “when I will tell you why I am the happiest man in the world.”

  When he left her, the Dowager Marchioness shed a few tears because she too was happy.

  She had loved her grandson ever since he was a small boy and she had regretted bitterly as the years passed that, while there was a succession of beautiful women in his life, she had felt that with each affaire de coeur he became more and more cynical.

  Now there was a happiness about him that she had not known for many years.

  She felt that her prayers had been answered because Zia was exactly the right wife for him.

  *

  Because she was too excited and happy to be tired, Zia did not go to her room to rest.

  Instead she went to the Marquis’s study so that, when he returned, she would not miss a moment of his company.

  She took a book from the case to read, but in fact she sat thinking how wonderful he was and that no one else could be more fortunate than herself because he loved her.

  Then, when she was praying that she would never fail him, the door opened and she heard Carter the butler say,

  “As you see, my Lady, I’m not deceiving you and his Lordship’s not here.”

  “Then I will wait until he returns,” a woman’s voice replied.

  “Very good, my Lady,” Carter replied in a somewhat exasperated tone.

  Zia was aware as he closed the door that she was no longer alone.

  She had been sitting in a deep armchair beside the fireplace that was hidden from the door and now a little nervously she rose to her feet.

  Standing by the desk was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen.

  Dressed in black she was nevertheless elegant with a bustle larger than anything that the Dowager Marchioness would have let her buy.

  As Zia hesitated, wondering what she should say, the lady, who had been staring at a pile of letters, turned her head and saw her.

  As she did so, she stiffened and there was no mistaking a hostile expression in her eyes.

  “You are Zia Langley, I suppose,” she began in a hard voice.

  “Y-yes – I am,” Zia answered, “and, if you are waiting for his Lordship, I am afraid he will be away for some time.”

  “Then I will speak to you,” Lady Caton replied. “I have heard, although it may be untrue, that his Lordship intends to marry you.”

  “It is to be announced the day ‒ after tomorrow.”

  Yasmin Caton gave a shrill scream.

  “Then it is true! When I heard the rumour, I was sure that it must be a lie, because no man in the whole world could behave so despicably or so disgracefully! I only wish I could kill him for it!”

  She spoke so violently that Zia felt intimidated.

  “What – are you – saying? I-I don’t – understand.”

  “Then let me tell you what you ought to know,” the woman said moving a little nearer to her. “I am Lady Caton and the Marquis, with whom I suppose you fancy yourself to be in love, is a man of no principles and no decency. He is marrying you merely to escape from his responsibilities.”

  She seemed to spit the words at Zia, who instinctively moved back a step or two.

  “I-I don’t – understand what – you are saying.”

  “The truth is that Rayburn was in love with me. Because I believed his protestations of affection I became his mistress and he promised that, as soon as my husband died, he would marry me!”

  Her voice sharpened as she went on,

  “Now that I am free, he has run away from me and from the child I carry, which is his.”

  For a few seconds Zia did not understand what she was saying and then when she did she went very pale.

  “You – you are – having a – baby?” she stammered.

  “I suppose you can understand English?” Yasmin Caton snapped. “Yes, I am carrying the Marquis’s child and are you prepared, you stupid little rich girl who will bore him stiff within a few weeks, to let him hide behind your skirts rather than do what is right and make my child legitimate?”

  Zia could only stare at her and at the same time she was trembling.

  Then suddenly, as if she wished to menace her, Yasmin Caton screamed,

  “Go away! Leave him alone! He is mine do you understand? He is mine and however hard he tries to, I will not let him leave me!”

  She spoke so violently that her voice echoed round the study walls.

  With a cry like that of a small hurt animal, Zia turned and ran from the room.

  She ran along the passage and across the hall, unaware that Carter and the footmen were staring at her, and up the stairs.

  She rushed into her bedroom and shutting the door behind her flung herself down on the bed.

  She was so shocked and so stunned by what she had just heard that she could not even cry.

  She only lay there feeling as if the beautiful woman who had betrayed the Marquis had stabbed her in a thousand places and her whole body was bleeding to death.

  ‘I have – to go – away,’ she thought. ‘She – is right and, if she is – bearing his – child, he must – marry her!’

  Then she realised that she had nowhere to go.

  There must be somewhere, but she could not think of it. Then almost as if she was being helped, she remembered the Marquis saying to Martha,

  “If you want to go into a Convent, I will arrange with the Archbishop of Westminster Cathedral, that you go into the very best one there is.”

  A Convent!

  It was the only refuge that she could think of at this moment. She was not a Roman Catholic, but she had told Father Anthony that she wished to become one. Any Convent would therefore take her and there would be no difficulties.

  She took a hat from the wardrobe and, picking up her gloves and her handbag, she went down the stairs.

  When she reached the hall, Carter was there and she asked him,

  “Please will you call me a Hackney carriage?”

  “A Hackney carriage, miss?” Carter exclaimed. “It’ll take only a moment for me to send to the Mews for one of his Lordship’s carriages.”

  “No, I want a Hackney carriage!” Zia said firmly.

  “But, you can’t be going out alone, miss?”

  “I don’t see why you should try to stop me,” Zia answered, “and I don’t think you have the right to do so.”

  Carter looked embarrassed.

  He knew that something was wrong and after what had happened he could hardly believe that Miss Langley would again contemplate going driving alone.

  “Now, listen, miss,” he said in the kindly tones of an old family servant, “I know that his Lordship would not want you to go alone in a public vehicle when our horses and coachmen are available in the Mews.”

  “I have – to go – I have to!” Zia replied desperately.

  “I think, miss, that first you should speak to
Mr. Barrett.”

  Zia felt as if once again she was being confined against her will.

  As it was a warm and sunny day, the front door was open and, without saying another word, she passed Carter, running down the steps and out through the short drive into Park Lane.

  Carter stood staring after her in astonishment.

  Then he said to one of the footmen, who he thought was more sensible than the others,

  “Follow Miss Langley, James, and don’t let her out of your sight. If she takes a Hackney carriage, find another one and follow her. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mr. Carter!”

  Carter put his hand into his pocket, took out the first coins he found in it and gave them to the boy.

  “Hurry now, hurry!” he said urgently. “And don’t lose her, whatever you do!”

  As James ran into Park Lane, Carter walked so quickly that he too was almost running to Mr. Barrett’s office.

  *

  Zia found a Hackney carriage that was for hire almost immediately and told the driver to take her to Westminster Cathedral.

  As it was a warm day, the hood was down, but to Zia there was no sunshine, only an impenetrable darkness.

  She was driven very much more slowly than she would have been behind the Marquis’s spirited and well-bred horses.

  It was, however, not very far to Westminster Cathedral and all the time she was fighting back her tears.

  She was determined to speak sensibly to the Cardinal so that he would understand her anxiety to enter into a Convent immediately.

  ‘I shall never – love anyone – else,’ she told herself miserably, ‘so how can I – stay in the world when I might see – him with his – wife and – his children?’

  She closed her eyes feeling the pain that it gave her.

  It was an agony to think that perhaps his love for her had been false and, as Lady Caton had claimed, he was merely trying to evade his responsibilities.

  ‘How can I – live without – him?’ she asked the ceiling despairingly.

  She wished that last night she had been able to throw herself into the River Thames and be drowned, as Father Proteus had been.

  When she reached Westminster Cathedral, she paid off the Hackney Carriage and walked into the huge Basilica.

  There was a strong scent of incense and hundreds of candles were flickering in the side Chapels.