Castle of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “It was my mother’s, my Lord,” said Jacina, her heart flooded with disappointment. He had remembered the cook and he had remembered Nancy, but he had not in the least remembered her!

  The Earl bowed over her hand and then turned back to her father.

  “Let us meet in the library in half an hour,” he said. “I trust you can entertain yourselves until then. What can I order for you?”

  “We will wait until you join us,” smiled the doctor.

  Jarrold gestured to the valet, who had been waiting in the background all this while. The valet came forward. The Earl was tired now and grateful to put his hand on his valet’s shoulder. His valet guided him to the foot of the grand stairway and the two figures ascended.

  “Come, Jacina,” said the doctor.

  Together father and daughter walked to the library.

  *

  An hour later the doctor and the Earl were ensconced in deep wing chairs, drawn up on either side of a fire that was not lit. It was still only September and rather warm.

  A maid had brought in tea and biscuits for Jacina. The Earl had ordered a rare bottle of Scotch whisky to be brought up from the cellar. He prevailed upon the doctor to partake of a glass with him.

  “I should not,” laughed the doctor. “I have rounds to finish.”

  “Surely you will join me in a toast to my grandfather?” coaxed the Earl wickedly.

  “Ah, now that I cannot resist,” said the doctor. He and the Earl lifted their glasses and drank.

  Jacina sat on the window seat, her hands in her lap. She could feel the warmth of the sun on the nape of her neck. She knew the Earl could not see her and yet she was still too shy and too sensitive to stare brazenly in his direction. The glances she cast at him were surreptitious.

  He had changed into a dark green velvet waistcoat and white silk shirt. One hand trailed over the side of the wing chair. The other nursed the crystal glass of whisky.

  What a silly fool she was, she told herself. Why should the Earl have remembered her? Even had he been able to see her, he could not possibly have recognised her. She had been a child of eight when he had encountered her and now she was a young woman of eighteen. Besides, for ten years he had been living a life of such adventure in India, that the mere rescuing of a bonnet would have paled into insignificance.

  She, on the other hand, had remained here in the locale of Ruven, where over the years she had had plenty of opportunity to hear about Hugo and his exploits.

  Hugo Ruven had been her childhood hero. No other young gallant in the neighbourhood had ever quite matched up. Since she was sixteen she had had a number of suitors but none of them interested her.

  Her father laughed and called her a singular young lady.

  The loss of her mother when she was ten had introduced a certain solemnity to her character. Helping her father at his surgery, accompanying him on his rounds and the hardships she had witnessed had taught her to curb her youthful wilfulness. She was neither a flirt nor had she a frivolous nature.

  Yet she still had a sense of fun and she was very lovely to look at. The red gold tones of her hair were more muted but still lustrous. Her dazzling smile smote many a would-be suitor’s heart.

  None of this was of any consolation to her now that she was once again in the presence of Hugo Ruven.

  What beauty she had was immaterial. He could not see. Her smile, her green eyes, her translucent skin – inherited from her Highland mother – were wasted.

  Even if he could see her, even if he did then admire her, what good would it do? She was a mere country doctor’s daughter, while he was an Earl.

  He was also a man who was already engaged to be married.

  Whenever Jacina pictured Felice Deslisle she pictured someone breathtakingly exotic. Felice was French. She was an orphan. She had spent her life abroad. She had endured the tragic loss of her first fiancé. She read deeply and obviously wrote such romantic letters that a man she had never met proposed to her. She was like the heroine of a novel!

  Jacina sighed.

  She had no right at all to yearn after the Earl. All she could do was gaze on him from afar. This thought made her feel like a cat, hiding under a chair, gazing up at a King.

  “Jacina, Jacina, are you dreaming?”

  She started at the sound of her name. “I am sorry, Papa. The sun here at the window is making me sleepy.”

  “I was telling the Earl that you are my little helper,” said the doctor.

  “I am happy to be so,” said Jacina simply.

  The doctor turned back to the Earl. “Most young women would flinch at some of the sights we see on my rounds. Not my daughter!”

  The Earl listened quietly. “You are lucky to have her.”

  “She sat with your grandfather a good many night, when Sarah was too tired, and I was not available.”

  “I am grateful indeed,” said the Earl. He turned his glass slowly in his hand. “Tell me, did my grandfather suffer much at the end?”

  “I am happy to tell you that he did not. His heart just grew weaker and weaker. He was confined to bed for a month and died in his sleep.” The doctor paused. “He was never the same after your brother’s death. It was a mortal blow to him. He longed for your return.”

  “Alas, I could not resign my commission immediately,” said the Earl. “There was a great deal of unrest in India. Lord Dalhousie had alienated many traditionalists with his reforms of ancient institutions.”

  Jacina was listening keenly. She now ventured a question.

  “Excuse me, Papa, but who was Lord Dalhousie?”

  “He was Governor General of India,” answered the doctor.

  The Earl had for the first time turned at the sound of Jacina’s voice. Perhaps he was surprised that a provincial young lady should express an interest in the politics of the day.

  Jacina’s heart fluttered at the sight of the Earl’s face turned towards her.

  “Lord Dalhousie resigned in ’56,” Doctor Carlton mused. “Did matters not settle down then?”

  The Earl turned back towards the doctor. “They did not. The rumble of discontent went on. Then in May of this year the mutiny broke out. Mutineers from three regiments seized Delhi. It was late June before the British managed to capture one of the ridges overlooking the city.”

  There was silence for a moment. Then the doctor spoke.

  “It was at Delhi that you yourself were injured, I believe?” he asked softly.

  “It was,” replied the Earl dryly. He took a sip of whisky from his glass. “The siege had barely begun. A cannon exploded beside me and shrapnel hit me on the forehead. When I regained consciousness, I was blind.”

  Jacina’s eyes filled with tears as she listened.

  “What prognosis have the experts given?” enquired the doctor

  “The doctors in London said it might be what is called a ‘trauma blindness’.”

  Doctor Carlton nodded. “That occurred to me as soon as you described the accident. No doubt the experts explained that with an injury of this nature you may, in the fullness of time, regain your sight.”

  The Earl gave a dry laugh. “Of what practical use is that to me? When an expert says that I may regain my sight, he is equally saying that I may not! I refuse to live with false hope.”

  “Only you can decide what is the best way to deal with this affliction,” said Doctor Carlton carefully.

  “Affliction indeed!” said the Earl. He mused for a moment before continuing, “I am only grateful that my grandfather died before it happened.”

  “That was something of a blessing,” said the doctor. “And, of course, he died happy with the knowledge that you intended to marry Felice Delisle.”

  “Ah, yes, Felice,” said the Earl.

  Jacina straightened at the sound of that name on his lips. She was longing to know what his thoughts were about the woman he was to marry. Was it possible to be in love with someone you had never actually met?

  The Earl was ruminatin
g. “The question is, though I may wish to marry Felice, will she now wish to marry me? I am not the man whose proposal she accepted. She does not know what has happened to me.”

  “I must interrupt there,” said the doctor hurriedly. “She does know what has happened.”

  The Earl looked surprised. “How on earth – ! I had not yet informed her. I was uncertain as to how to break the news to her. I feared she might be in too delicate a state. She lost her first fiancé, my brother, as you know, and was ill for some time. She wrote to me after my grandfather died in February and sounded most desolate. I have not heard from her since. I was hoping to discuss the matter with someone who perhaps had some indication as to her current state of mind – someone like yourself – before I burdened her with further unpleasant news.”

  “I must apologise if I have exceeded my duties,” said the doctor. “I wrote to her in June, as soon as I heard of your injury. I had already had occasion to write to her as executor of your grandfather’s will.”

  The Earl, who had been brooding on the doctor’s words, now gave a start.

  “She was a beneficiary, even though she was going to be married to me?”

  “She was,” said the doctor. “I was privy to your grandfather’s thoughts on this subject. Perhaps you would like me to explain them?”

  The Earl nodded. He reached forward and felt for the table at the side of his chair, where he carefully deposited his glass. Then he sat back to listen.

  “Your grandfather was delighted when you wrote promising to marry Felice,” said the doctor. “He was extremely fond of her and he wanted to make sure her future was utterly secure. The Ruven estate is entailed, remember. Should you marry Felice and then die before her and – God forbid – without issue, the whole estate would pass to a distant male relative.

  “Since Felice has no family money of her own, she could in that case be left with very little. So your grandfather arranged for a generous sum to be settled on her in the unhappy event of your death. She would of course by law retain the title of Countess.”

  “I see,” said the Earl.

  “She sent a most courteous letter acknowledging mine in early March,” said the doctor. “She was saddened by the old Earl’s death and most touched by his thoughtfulness. I did not communicate with her again until June, when I sent her news of your injury.”

  The Earl interrupted with a bitter laugh. “And, knowing how things stand with me, she has not deigned to write to me since then!”

  Jacina bowed her head. For the Earl to speak in such a tone meant only one thing. He was in love with Felice Delisle!

  The doctor had also noted the Earl’s reaction. “I did feel,” he said gently, “that Miss Delisle should be informed of what had happened to you.”

  “Of course, of course,” said the Earl. He had picked up his glass again and was tapping his fingers on the crystal.

  “As to you not having heard from her,” the doctor continued, “I should not take that as any indication of her state of mind concerning you. You have forgotten how difficult it was to get letters through during the mutiny.”

  “It was difficult indeed,” agreed the Earl.

  “I have a letter with me that should further reassure you,” said the doctor. “Shall I read it to you?”

  “By all means,” said the Earl.

  There was silence for a moment as the doctor patted his waistcoat pockets for the letter and his pince-nez. All Jacina could hear was the ticking of the large gilt clock that stood on the marble mantelpiece.

  At breakfast some weeks before she had seen the letter with the foreign postmark but her father – such was his sense of propriety – had divulged nothing of its contents.

  Now she waited apprehensively while her father settled his pince-nez on his nose and began to read.

  “Dear Doctor Carlton,

  I write on behalf of my client, Mademoiselle Felice Delisle. Mademoiselle Delisle wishes to thank you for your letter of June. She apologises for not replying sooner. She also apologises for not writing herself.

  She has been cast down with grief since hearing of the injuries to her fiancé Hugo. She understands that you are expecting him home by September at least.

  She wishes me to advise you that she intends to travel to England in November to be with him.

  Her feelings for Earl Hugo remain unchanged.”

  The doctor removed his pince-nez and looked at the Earl. “It is signed by a Monsieur Phillipe Fronard, notary at law,” he said.

  The Earl lifted his head. His features were impassive and his voice when he spoke betrayed nothing.

  “It seems then that I am to have a wife after all.”

  “This surely calls for another toast!” said the doctor.

  The Earl gave a quick smile. “Indeed.” He turned his head towards where Jacina sat at the window. “Miss Carlton, will you join us?”

  “I – I only have tea here, my Lord.”

  “I am sure tea will prove equal to the task,” said the Earl.

  With a trembling hand, Jacina lifted her china teacup from its tray.

  “To my future wife, Felice Delisle,” proposed the Earl.

  “To your wife,” echoed the doctor.

  “To your wife,” said Jacina in a low voice.

  She took a sip of tea. It was cold. She put down her cup and turned her face to the window. Her eyes were misty and she fiercely blinked away the incipient tears. She was cross with herself for being so affected. She was not one of those girls who had nothing but romance and embroidery to occupy their minds! She was luckier than most. Her father often allowed her to be involved in his work. She had the opportunity to make herself truly useful.

  ‘Jacina Carlton, you are not to be a silly fool,’ she told herself.

  She heard the Earl rise and make his excuses. He had other castle business to attend to.

  “As do I,” smiled the doctor. “Some of the families on the Ruven estate are also my patients.”

  “We have much to discuss on other occasions,” said the Earl.

  Jarrold escorted the doctor and his daughter to the entrance, where their gig had been brought round to the bottom of the steps.

  Jacina was very quiet as she and her father drove home. She turned her head only once, to catch a last glimpse of the castle. It looked so imposing on its ridge above the trees.

  A disturbing thought crossed her mind as she looked back.

  It would be better for her if she never saw the castle or the Earl again!

  CHAPTER THREE

  A week later Jacina and her father sat at breakfast in their little parlour.

  At the doctor’s elbow was a pile of books. Doctor Carlton was interested in epidemiology and, to Jacina’s amusement, often had his head in a book all through breakfast.

  This morning however the books remained closed. The doctor coughed and regarded Jacina over the top of his pince nez.

  “Jacina.”

  “Yes, Papa?”

  “I have found employment for you.”

  She looked at him quizzically. “Yes, Papa?”

  “It is connected with the Earl.”

  Jacina toyed with her teaspoon. “Oh?”

  Her father had been twice to sup at the castle, but each time Jacina had declined the invitation, pleading a headache.

  “He is a proud man and does not like to accept help,” explained the doctor, “but even he has to admit that the one thing he cannot do for himself is read the newspapers. Yesterday he asked whether I knew of anyone who might come to the castle and read to him. Without a second thought I suggested you.”

  “Oh, Papa,” burst out Jacina, “I wish you had not!”

  The doctor looked astonished. “Why Jacina, what possible reason could you have to refuse?”

  Jacina stared into her cup. She had resolved not to return to Castle Ruven until she believed herself to be immune to the Earl’s attractions, but she did not feel she could tell her father this.

  “S-surely
his Steward and secretary are more equal to the task?” she murmured instead.

  “His Steward and his secretary read official papers but he says that is quite enough. He finds their voices grating. You are the perfect candidate. The Earl himself reflected that you have a sweet tone of voice. He was also impressed that you seemed to take an interest in the world at large.”

  “But Papa, I like to go with you on your rounds!”

  “The Earl would only require your help each morning,” said the doctor. “That would still leave the afternoon for you to accompany me.”

  The doctor regarded his daughter closely. “I do not understand your reluctance. You would have access to all those books in the Earl’s library. And Sarah was delighted when I told her you might be at the castle every day.”

  At this mention of Sarah, Jacina fell silent.

  *

  The very next day the Ruven coach was once more making its way up the long driveway to the castle. The white coats of the horses shone in the newly risen sun.

  The Earl had sent the coach early to collect Jacina. Her father’s mention of Sarah had undone her resolution not to return to Castle Ruven until she was resistant to the Earl’s charms. She gazed out at the frosty woods, hugging her green cloak tight about her.

  Jarrold was waiting on the castle steps. He came down and opened the coach door.

  “His Lordship is in the library,” he told her.

  The Earl sat in the wing chair before the fire, just as he had done on her last visit. This time the fire was lit. The Earl looked very distinguished in black. He turned his head towards the door as it opened. With a pang Jacina saw that his features were drawn and weary, as if he had not slept well.

  “Miss Jacina Carlton, my Lord,” announced Jarrold.

  Jacina stood uncertainly in the doorway.

  “Well, step forward,” invited the Earl.

  She went forward and took his outstretched hand. His fingers closed tightly over hers.

  “A cold hand!” he exclaimed. “Were you not wearing gloves?”

  “I forgot them, my Lord,” replied Jacina.

  She could not tell him how flustered she had been that morning, preparing to leave for the castle. Neighbours had stood on their doorsteps, watching with interest as she had entered the grand coach marked with the Ruven coat of arms.