“But that’s to our advantage, because it means he won’t be afraid to offend her, and might, therefore, do as you ask. And he won’t talk a lot of pompous nonsense about Lavina being honoured to marry a Prince. He cares no more for Princes than for Queens.”
“You think Elswick will actually agree?”
“It isn’t likely,” the Duke replied frankly. “But I can’t think of anyone else who would be of any help at this moment.”
“All I want,” the Earl said angrily, “is my daughter’s happiness. I love her, and she’s my only child. How can she be happy if she has to live in that barbaric place, with a man of bad reputation?”
“I know,” his friend agreed. “At the same time you have to realise that Her Majesty is now in a very difficult position. For diplomatic reasons she can’t give the Prince a blank refusal without a very good cause.”
“I need a little time to think of the best way to fight this,” the Earl said. “Luckily I have until tomorrow.”
“Why do you say that?”
“That’s when I’m due at Windsor Castle, so I imagine the Queen will wait until then.”
“Don’t rely on it. This matter is urgent. She’ll probably send a messenger to you today. In fact, you’re very lucky that the letter did not reach her at a time when you were on duty. If you’d been there she would have cornered you at once.”
“Oh heavens, you’re right, Bertram. I must leave at once,” said the Earl, walking across the room to ring the bell which was beside the fireplace.
Almost at once the butler appeared.
“You rang, My Lord?”
“Her Ladyship and I have to return to the country immediately,” the Earl told him. “Kindly inform her of my wishes, then order the carriage and the fastest horses available to come round in an hour’s time.”
The butler looked a little bewildered at the sharpness in his master’s voice. But he merely said:
“At once, My Lord.”
Then he left the room.
“So far, so good,” the Duke said. “But it’s not enough. You’re lucky in that Elswick’s country house is only a few miles from your own, so you can go home, and seek him out at the same time.
“Ask him if he will become engaged to your daughter or if there is anyone else more socially important that he knows, who can help. Wait! I know – what about the Duke of Ayelton?”
“She’s already refused him,” the Earl groaned. “He was very offended. Now he’s set his cap at an American heiress.”
“You have very little time,” the Duke said, “as we all know when Her Majesty wants something done she wants it at once. Or if possible, the day before yesterday!”
He smiled as he made the joke, but the Earl was looking very worried. Going to his desk, he picked up various letters which had not yet been opened and put them into his pocket.
Then he noticed the letter from Scotland that he had been about to answer, when this calamity fell on him, and put that into his pocket as well. He seemed to be moving in a dream.
“Suppose Elswick refuses,” he said at last. “There must be someone else I can beg – on my knees if necessary – to save my daughter.”
“I can think of nobody,” the Duke said bluntly. “You know as well as I do that they all want to kow-tow to Her Majesty. The majority of those who we think are friends will do nothing in a situation like this.
“And it would have to be someone really important, like the Marquis, otherwise Her Majesty would simply insist on breaking off the engagement.”
The door opened and the butler said:
“The carriage will be ready in half an hour, My Lord. Lady Lavina has been informed, and is getting ready.”
As the butler shut the door behind him, the Duke rose from the sofa and said,
“I wish I could help you more, Arthur. You have always been a good friend to me. But an engagement to Elswick, however unlikely, is the best I can suggest.”
“Damn it!” the Earl exclaimed. “My daughter isn’t going to be forced into this. She is all I have left now I have lost my wife.”
At that moment the door opened and Lady Lavina came in.
She was a tall, very lovely girl, and one whose face contained more than mere beauty. It also had strength and character. Her large blue eyes could glow as much with anger as with warmth, and she was never lost for words in an argument.
Some men would be scared away by the force of her personality. Others would find her intriguing.
The Duke thought she was even prettier than the last time he had seen her.
Now with her long hair shining in the sunshine which was coming through the windows, she lifted up her pretty face to kiss her father before she asked,
“What is happening, Papa? Why this rush to go to the country? You said last night we need not leave for a week or two, and we are due to have dinner with the O’Donnells tonight.”
“I know,” her Father answered. “But the Duke has brought us bad news, and you had better hear it from him.”
Lavina turned to look at the Duke.
“Uncle Bertram, whatever has happened?”
“I came to warn your father that you are in grave danger.”
“Me, in danger?” Lavina exclaimed. “Whatever do you mean?”
“The Queen is seeking another royal bride to send to the Balkans,” said the Duke, “and she wishes it to be you.”
Lavina gave a merry peal of laughter.
“I know that must be a joke,” she said. “I’m not royal.”
“Her Majesty’s great grandmother was connected with this family, and that is royal enough for her.”
Lavina gave a cry.
“But everybody has always known about that, and nobody has ever made a fuss about it before.”
“Her Majesty never needed to make use of you before,” the Duke riposted caustically.
“And she wants me to marry – who?”
“Prince Stanislaus of Kadradtz, a thoroughly unpleasant character, drunken, violent and unprincipled. Also, I believe he does not wash.”
Lavina shuddered.
“I could never marry a man who did not wash,” she said.
“Of course not,” agreed the Duke. “So we have to think of a plan to save you, and the best way is for you to be engaged to someone else. Even the Queen would have to respect that, if your fiancé were sufficiently prominent – and of a decisive character.”
Lavina frowned.
“My fiancé? What fiancé?”
“The Marquis of Elswick,” explained the Duke. “Your only hope is if he will pretend that you and he are engaged until the Queen has found another bride.”
“The Marquis of Elswick!” Lavina echoed, astounded. “Certainly not. Anyone but him.”
“I know he has the reputation of being a very disagreeable man,” the Duke began.
“And it’s well-deserved,” Lavina said.
“You have met him, my dear?” her father asked, surprised. “You never told me.”
“It wasn’t exactly a meeting, Papa. It happened three years ago, when I was visiting the Bracewells. He chanced to call in one evening.”
“Now there’s a thing!” exclaimed the Duke. “I’ve never heard of him dropping in like that before.”
“I’ve heard that Lord Bracewell owes him money,” the Earl mused.
“Ah, that would account for it,” said the Duke wisely. “So, my dear Lavina, you thought Elswick’s manners cold and unpleasant.”
“I believe that is the general opinion of everyone who meets him,” she said stiffly.
“But that needn’t stop you accepting his help,” the Duke pointed out.
“But why should he want to help me? I’ve heard about how much he dislikes women. Surely he will hardly want to marry me?”
“There is no question of him marrying you,” the Duke replied. “All he has to do is to say he is engaged to you. Then later, when the trouble is over, you will thank the Marquis very much for his kindness,
and the two of you will end the engagement by mutual consent.”
Lavina pressed her hands to her cheeks.
“Oh Papa, you must save me. I don’t want to leave you. Can this idea possibly work?”
“It must,” said the Earl grimly. “So we must leave quickly, before a courier arrives here from Her Majesty.”
Lavina gave a cry.
“Oh yes, let us go now.”
Suddenly she turned to the Duke, and flung her arms about him.
“Thank you for everything, Uncle Bertram.”
The Earl also advanced on his friend and shook his hand.
“We are forever in your debt,” he said. “Thank you a thousand times for warning me. If Her Majesty asks you where I am, perhaps you should say – ”
“Good lord, m’dear fellow,” the Duke burst out in alarm, “I’m not going to say a word. Once let her get the idea that I know anything and my life won’t be worth living.”
Then he gave them both a wink and added,
“Just the same, I’ll keep you informed of every Royal move, when I return to Windsor Castle.”
“I am more grateful than I can ever say,” the Earl repeated.
“So am I,” Lavina said.
She put her arms on the Duke’s shoulders, and kissed his cheek.
“If you save me I will thank you and love you more than I can ever express in words,” she told him.
The Duke smiled at her.
“Your father has been extremely kind to me in the past, and I have always wanted you both to be very happy,” he answered. “Anything I can do at any time, I only need your command to go ahead.”
“You are wonderful,” Lavina said and kissed his cheek again.
Then she ran into the hall and put on the coat which the butler already had in his hands. Then she sped out to the carriage. Her father joined her.
The next moment they were rumbling away on the first part of their journey.
“We’ve escaped,” Lavina breathed. “But only for the moment. Oh Papa, we must escape for good. You must save me!”
The Earl put his arms around his daughter, holding her tightly. His face was very set and determined.
*
It was a long drive from London to Ringwood Manor in Oxfordshire, and Lavina had much time to think.
What she had told her father about her one meeting with Lord Elswick had been true, but not the whole truth.
Three years ago she had been seventeen, on the verge of making her debut in London society. As she had no mother, Lady Bracewell had agreed to sponsor her, and she had visited the Bracewells at their London home to gain a little polish before the night of her ball.
The Bracewells had given a few impromptu dances to help her “get in the way of things before you become a debutante,” as her kindly hostess had said. There were many Bracewell offspring, whose young friends were invited to make up the numbers, and they made a very merry party.
One evening, as they were dancing, the front doorbell had rung, and the butler had admitted Lord Elswick.
Lavina had been struck at once by how romantically handsome and melancholy he looked. Tall, dark, with a lean face, noble brow and fine features, he had seemed the very image of a story-book hero.
She had only a brief glimpse of him, as he had been conducted straight into his host’s study, but he had made an indelible impact on her heart.
A few minutes later there was an interval so that the dancers could drink lemonade and catch their breath. Lavina used it to put her head together with the young Lady Helen Bracewell, her dearest friend.
“Isn’t he handsome?” Helen giggled.
“I think he looks just like Childe Harold,” Lavina breathed.
She knew Helen would understand this as they had sighed together over Lord Byron’s world-weary haunted hero. In a poem of five cantos, Childe Harold wandered the world, especially the exotic locations, seeking an escape from boredom and melancholy.
Haunted by tragedy, he took refuge in beauty. The world laid its joys before him, and he greeted them with a faint smile that hinted at suffering bravely borne.
Helen’s schoolboy brother had snorted with contempt.
“What a clown the fellow is, drivelling with self-pity!”
The girls had driven him off with loud cries of indignation. Lavina especially had been wrathful. How, she wondered emotionally, could anyone be so unfeeling as to speak of the beautiful, agonised Harold, in such a heartless way?
Harold had haunted her dreams by night and her fevered imaginings by day. She had been quite sure that when she went into society she would find no man who lived up to his romantic presence.
And then the door had opened, and ‘Harold’ had walked in, pale, dark-eyed, intense, moving loftily above the vulgar crowd.
She was sure that she read suppressed emotion in the brief bow he gave to Lady Bracewell, and secret suffering in the indifference with which he surveyed the dancers.
Ah, she thought, with the passionate fervour of seventeen, such pleasures were not for him. They could not assuage the secret wound that blighted his life.
She was not sure what that secret wound might be, but when Helen whispered that he had been abandoned by his bride on the very day of the wedding, everything became perfect.
The dance resumed. As she turned this way and that Lavina tried to keep her eyes on the door through which he must come when his meeting with Lord Bracewell was over.
She knew what must happen when he emerged. Lady Bracewell would invite him to join the impromptu ball. He would do so, reluctantly. Then he would see her and grow still as heavenly recognition swept over him. They would gaze into each other’s eyes, each knowing that the die was cast.
He would forget the heartless female who had abandoned him, and henceforth think only of Lavina.
The thought was so glorious that there was suddenly an extra spring in her step, and she bounced about spinning dizzily. The other young dancers stopped to watch her, while her partner stepped back to let her dance alone.
Oblivious to everything but her own joy she whirled and spun in an ecstasy of delight. For a glorious moment the whole world was hers to relish.
The music slowed, then stopped as she sank into a deep curtsey while the other young people applauded her. When she lifted her head she was looking straight at Lord Elswick.
He was staring at her very hard, but his expression was a blank. With the confidence of extreme youth she interpreted that blank to please herself. Obviously he was stunned by her beauty and grace.
Lady Bracewell was talking to him now, smiling, indicating the young people. Lavina edged a little closer so that he could see her better.
And then he shrugged, turned away, and over his shoulder came floating back the terrible words,
“My dear Jemima, you must forgive me, but I have better things to do than romp with children.”
From the mature heights of twenty Lavina could see that, as insults went, it was fairly mild. Since she had not made her debut she was, officially at least, still a child. So it was barely an insult at all, merely a statement of fact.
But at seventeen her sensibilities had been lacerated. Suddenly she became aware of her breathless state, her tousled hair, her flushed cheeks. She had behaved like a hoyden and now she looked like one.
Oh heavens! Oh, disaster!
Worse still, she heard the sound of a suppressed giggle from behind her.
Like every beauty she already had her enemies, girls of her own age who professed friendship but seethed with envy, and were secretly glad to see her crest lowered. And now they could laugh at her.
That night she had sobbed into her pillow and sworn that she would never, never forgive Lord Elswick as long as she lived.
Now, sitting in her carriage on the way to ask his help, she supposed she would have to forgive him. Anything was better than being forced into marriage with Prince Stanislaus.
But she wished it had been anyone but Lord Elswick.
CHAPTER TWO
The Earl’s family had lived in Oxfordshire for five hundred years.
In 1390 King Richard II had made Baron Ringwood a grant of lands and money. The Baron had built a magnificent country house which each generation had improved upon in size and value.
In the Civil War the Ringwoods had been staunchly on the Royalist side, resulting in Charles II elevating the title to an Earldom. Ringwood Place was now an imposing residence with a grand exterior of white stone, and an extensive park where peacocks wandered, uttering their eerie screams.
Lavina had been born there, and she loved the place. Since she had been old enough to remember, the grounds, and the lake where she had learnt to swim, had always seemed like fairyland.
Now the prospect of leaving it, and the country she loved, filled her with dread.
How could her father persuade the Marquis of Elswick to agree to a fake engagement, when it was well known that he loathed women?
It came from the way he had been treated when he was very young. He was, in fact, not quite eighteen, and was attending Oxford when he fell very much in love with a pretty girl whose father had bought a house on his estate.
The girl and the young Viscount, as he was then, had met and fallen in love while they were out riding.
He had loved her madly, and been sure that she loved him equally. He was determined to marry her in the face of all social difficulties, including his parents’ opposition.
But he had no money, except what his father allowed him, and if he married her he would be cut off without a penny.
Undeterred, he set the wedding date, certain that his father would relent. In this, he was wrong.
“But it doesn’t matter,” he told his bride. “What does it matter if we’re poor, as long as we love each other.”
But she had wanted money and the delights it would bring. On what should have been their wedding day, she had run off with another man, leaving her groom, abandoned and ridiculous, at the altar.
He had never got over it.
“I hate all women!” he had said once. “I trust none of them, and I swear they will never torture me again as I have been tortured now.”
He became well-known in the county for hating women, and entertained mostly men at the castle he had inherited when his father died.
An Introduction to the Pink Collection Page 15