73. A Tangled Web

by Barbara Cartland

  Mary-Lou gave a little cry.

  “Please don’t tell – Poppa!” she begged. “You must – not tell – him!”

  “Must not tell him?” the Marquis repeated in surprise.

  “Of course not!” Mary-Lou insisted. “He will only get into a terrible fluster. When this happened once before in America, I had a simply awful time.”

  She paused, gave a sob, then continued,

  “I was surrounded by guards by day and night. I could hardly take a bath without them peeping in to see that I was still there!”

  She drew in her breath before she added,

  “Please – please – don’t tell Poppa! It will spoil – everything!”

  Carola was aware that the Marquis had suddenly relaxed and the tension she had felt when he was holding her to him seemed to vanish.

  “If you really mean that,” he said to Mary-Lou, “then this must be a secret which none of us must divulge to anybody.”

  “That would be – marvellous!” Mary-Lou exclaimed. “I just could not bear all the fuss that happened last time when Poppa wanted to go out and shoot the kidnappers!”

  “Then I promise you that no one will know what has just occurred,” the Marquis said, “and when we are nearer to the house you and Carola must just walk in as if you had been admiring the garden.”

  “We will do that,” Mary-Lou said, “but I am so – very glad that you were – clever enough – to come and – save us.”

  “I – too am – very glad,” Carola murmured.

  She looked up at the Marquis as she spoke and thought how marvellous he had been.

  She was aware as she did so that her face was very near to his.

  She could not help thinking it would be very wonderful if he kissed her again, just as an expression of delight because she was no longer a prisoner of those wicked men.

  He did not reply to what she had said.

  He was looking ahead at the lane they were proceeding down.

  Then so suddenly she felt her heart turn over, she knew that she loved him.

  She felt her whole being vibrate to his.

  What had been a pretence had, as far as she was concerned, suddenly become a reality.

  There was no pretence about what she felt.

  It was love.

  The love she had wanted and prayed for – the love that was Divine.

  The world seemed transfigured because he was in it.

  But she knew how hopeless her love was.

  He loved someone else and was as out of reach as the moon.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  As they neared the house the Marquis suggested,

  “I will put you down somewhere near here.”

  Carola gave a little cry.

  “We must go in by a side door,” she said. “I am sure I look terrible after being covered with that disgusting sack!”

  The Marquis looked at her hair curling over her forehead, a great wave of it falling over one shoulder.

  “You look very lovely!” he murmured.

  For a moment she felt her heart contract at the depth in his voice and what she thought was the expression in his eyes.

  Then she told herself that, as Mary-Lou could hear what he said, he was only play-acting.

  She turned her face away and did not look at him again until he stopped at the back of the garden.

  “Go in by the garden door,” he said. “No one will see you until you reach your rooms.”

  “That is very sensible,” Mary-Lou agreed.

  Peter, having dismounted, lifted Mary-Lou gently from the saddle.

  Carola thought he held her close in his arms for longer than was necessary and then she told herself they had all been through a very traumatic experience and all he was doing was soothing Mary-Lou who seemed not surprisingly still to be upset.

  They walked in through a gate that led them behind the yew hedges and into the main part of the garden.

  As they went, Carola heard the horses being ridden away and knew that they would be returning to the stables.

  Only as they went up a side staircase to the first floor did she wonder what the time was.

  So much had happened that, if anyone had told her it was late in the afternoon, she would have believed them.

  Instead of which, to her surprise, when she entered her bedroom and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, she saw that it was only five minutes to one.

  Betty was waiting and she gave an exclamation of horror when she saw her mistress’s hair.

  “What have you been doing to yourself, my Lady?” she asked.

  “I got caught up in a thorn bush,” Carola said quickly. “It was stupid of me, but I am sure that you will not take long in making it look tidy again.”

  “Of course it won’t my Lady,” Betty replied, “but you’d best be careful. I caught my finger on one and it took a long time healin’.”

  Carola did not answer.

  Now she was back in The Hall she felt suddenly limp because all the tension was now over.

  She thought that she would never forget how frightened she had been when, blinded and unable to move, she had felt the carriage moving away and that no one would ever be able to find them.

  She realised that the kidnappers had not been after her, but Mary-Lou because she was so rich.

  At the same time that might easily mean that they would treat her roughly or perhaps dispose of her in some way.

  She told herself, however, that there was no point in going on thinking about it.

  The Marquis, in his usual brilliant way, had saved them and she was quite certain he would take care that this sort of outrage never happened again.

  They must be very grateful to Mary-Lou for deciding that her father should not be told.

  It would be a tragedy if Alton Westwood should return to America determined to wash his hands of the unreliable English.

  “Have a look at yourself, my Lady,” Betty was saying.

  Carola glanced in the mirror and thought it extraordinary that there were not deep lines on her face or perhaps that her hair had turned white after all that she had been through.

  Instead, she looked just as usual and she hoped that the Marquis would really think, as he had said, that she was lovely.

  ‘Don’t be so foolish!’ she admonished herself, ‘and, if he is in love with the most beautiful woman in England, why should he pay any attention to you, unless it’s to his advantage to do so?’

  She went downstairs and, as she reached the hall, she could hear voices in the drawing room and knew that the Marquis and Peter had joined the others.

  She went in to find them, as she expected, enjoying a drink before luncheon.

  “Ah, there you are, my dearest!” the Marquis exclaimed walking towards her. “I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you!”

  He put his arms round her and kissed her cheek and, although she tried hard not to be thrilled by it, she felt a little quiver run through her whole body.

  “It was so lovely in the garden that I lost all track of time!” she explained.

  The Marquis put a glass of champagne into her hand.

  “I think you deserve this,” he said.

  He had his back to the others and they could not hear what he said.

  “You were very clever,” Carola answered under her breath.

  Mary-Lou came bursting into the room.

  “If I am late, you are not to be angry with me!” she said, speaking to everybody, “but the Marchioness and I had such a wonderful time all amongst the flowers!”

  She walked up to her father, kissed him and added,

  “I am so sorry I did not go to Church with you, Poppa, but I just overslept.”

  “You missed a fine sermon,” Alton Westwood told her.

  Luncheon was then announced and they all went into the dining room.

  It was an amusing meal.

  At the same time, Carola could not help feeling a little limp and she knew it was the reaction
after all that had occurred in the morning.

  As they were leaving the dining room, the Marquis said, as they walked down the corridor,

  “I think you ought to rest, darling. You must have walked quite a long way this morning and you know what the doctors prescribe.”

  “Y-yes – of course,” Carola replied. “I do feel a little tired.”

  “Try to sleep,” he said, “and if you don’t feel like coming down for tea I am sure that Miss Westwood will play hostess on your behalf.”

  “Of course I will!” Mary-Lou enthused, “but Peter and I are going to see the horses. I hear you went to the stables after you had been to Church.”

  “That is right,” Alton Westwood said, “and I can tell you, I was very impressed. But unfortunately our host was taken away to deal with a fire.”

  “It was a false alarm,” the Marquis chipped in loftily, “or rather, a very small one, and I would much rather have been with you.”

  “And what are you planning for us this afternoon?” Alton Westwood asked.

  There was a short pause before the Marquis replied,

  “I thought, as it is sunny, that you would rather spend a more restful afternoon than we have been doing on the other days. I have in fact quite a lot of correspondence to deal with.”

  “I tell you what we will do,” Alton Westwood suggested. “We will have another meeting immediately after tea which will save time when we are back in London.”

  “That’s a good idea,” the Marquis approved. “I am sure you have a lot of things to do and I have already told my secretary to arrange for my private coach to be attached to the express train which will stop at the halt at nine-thirty.”

  He paused a moment before he went on,

  “That means we will be in London in just over an hour and have everything signed and sealed before luncheon.”

  “That certainly suits me,” Alton Westwood agreed.

  All the men approved of this and, Carola thought, the Marquis was making sure that the party was over and that he could go back to living his own life without worrying about the affairs of Brox Hall.

  She went upstairs and, without ringing for Betty, took off her shoes and put her feet up on the bed.

  She did not pull the curtains because she liked to see the sunshine streaming through the windows.

  She was in fact more tired than she had thought herself to be and very soon she fell asleep.

  *

  Carola awoke with a start and realised she had been dreaming about the Marquis.

  It seemed very real and she was disappointed to find it was only a dream and she was still on her bed and alone.

  She looked at the clock.

  She was horrified to find that it was five o’clock and she must have missed tea.

  ‘I will go down at once!’ she thought, putting on her shoes.

  She hurried down the stairs and entered the drawing room to find all the men there with the exception of Peter. Mary-Lou was also missing.

  “I am so sorry – to be late,” she said. “I do hope you have not waited for tea.”

  “We were indeed waiting for you, darling,” the Marquis smiled, “and Miss Westwood was not here to take your place.”

  “I do apologise,” Carola said again. “My only excuse is that I fell asleep.”

  “That is just what I wanted you to do,” the Marquis pointed out. “I thought that you were looking pale before luncheon, but now, darling, the roses are back in your cheeks!”

  “That is very poetical,” Carola laughed.

  “He is telling the truth,” Alton Westwood came in, “and I could not have expressed it better myself.”

  Carola smiled at him and started to pour out the tea.

  There were, as usual, many delicious morsels to eat, but she did not feel hungry.

  She was only acutely conscious of the Marquis, thinking how handsome he looked and feeling that her heart was behaving in a strange way every time he spoke to her or came anywhere near her.

  ‘I love him!’ she told herself unhappily, “but after tomorrow I shall never see him again!”

  Because she hoped against hope that Alton Westwood would stay a little longer in England, she asked,

  “When are you and Mary-Lou returning home to America?”

  “On Tuesday,” he answered, “just as soon as everything is completed here with your husband in charge. I have to get back to the factory and see what is happening to my automobiles.”

  “I am sure they will be everything you hope for,” Carola said.

  “I shall be very disappointed if they are not!” Alton Westwood replied.

  “And so shall we all!” the Marquis exclaimed, who had been listening to the conversation.

  As he spoke, the door opened and Mary-Lou came in accompanied by Peter.

  “Where have you two been?” Alton Westwood asked.

  Mary-Lou ran to her father.

  She put her arms round his neck and looking at him she cried,

  “Oh, Poppa, I am so happy! I have never been so happy in my whole life!”

  Alton Westwood looked at her in surprise and Peter, who was just behind her said,

  “And I am feeling exactly the same, sir. I think you might guess that Mary-Lou has done me the great honour of promising to become my wife!”

  Alton Westwood stared at Peter in astonishment and the Marquis exclaimed,

  “Well done! That’s the best news I have heard in a long time! Congratulations, Peter!”

  He held out his hand as he spoke and the other men clustered round to do the same.

  “So, you have decided to marry this young Englishman!” Alton Westwood asked, at length, to Mary-Lou.

  “I love him, Poppa, and he loves me,” Mary-Lou said simply.

  The Marquis noticed the expression in Alton Westwood’s eyes and thought that it was one of disappointment.

  Quickly he went up to the American and put his hand on his shoulder.

  “I think, Alton, I should congratulate you,” he said, “on having as your future son-in-law a young man who represents one of the oldest families in English history!”

  The American looked at him questioningly and the Marquis went on,

  “The Gretons came over with William the Conqueror and ever since they have distinguished themselves in one way or another.”

  He stopped speaking to smile at him before he continued,

  “A Greton was knighted at the Battle of Agincourt. Another was a Statesman at the Court of King Henry VIII, and Peter is the sixth Baronet after the title was created by Charles II.”

  He laughed before he added,

  “His family tree is longer than mine and it is something that always annoyed my father!”

  “I had no idea of this!” the American said, but now he was smiling and the Marquis knew there would now be no opposition to the marriage.

  Carola kissed Peter.

  “I hope you will both be very happy, dearest,” she said.

  “We will be!” Peter replied positively.

  The men were clustering round Mary-Lou making their congratulations and excuses to kiss her cheek.

  She was laughing and enjoying the excitement of it and Peter drew Carola to the window.

  “We will make plans later,” he told her, “and I will discuss with the Marquis how we will eventually tell Westwood that you are my sister.”

  “Whatever you do,” Carola warned, “wait until after tomorrow when everything has been settled.”

  “I am not a fool!” Peter responded.

  He paused and then he said,

  “I love Mary-Lou, Carola, and I would marry her if she had not a penny to her name. She wants to live in England and she is longing to see Greton House.”

  “Then she will not be going back to America on Tuesday?” Carola asked.

  Peter gave a short laugh.

  “I have not had time to think of anything for the moment, except telling Mary-Lou that I love her. We will sort out everything els
e when we are alone and after I have talked it over with Alexander.”

  “Yes, of course,” Carola agreed.

  Peter went back to Mary-Lou’s side as if he could not bear to be apart from her.

  The Marquis sent for champagne so that they could all toast the future bride and bridegroom.

  Carola was also aware that he was still enlightening Alton Westwood with more facts about the lineage of the Greton family.

  She was surprised that he should know so much.

  She then thought that it was typical of his efficiency that he would know the background of everybody who was to be involved with him and the Company of which he was now the Chairman.

  She was suddenly aware that the Duke was trying to move closer to her.

  Therefore, having drunk Mary-Lou and Peter’s health, she ran upstairs to her room.

  There was just time for her to rest a little more before dinner.

  *

  Carola put on one of her prettiest gowns and added for the last time some of the beautiful jewellery the Marquis had brought down from London.

  Her gown was very pale blue, the colour of the sky in spring and she had found among the jewels a turquoise necklace, earrings and bracelets.

  They were all set with diamonds, but there was nothing to wear on her hair.

  She had a sudden idea.

  She sent a message to the gardeners through the footman who was bringing round a tray of flowers for the gentlemen to choose their buttonholes.

  It took a little time, but just before Carola was to go downstairs for dinner a wreath arrived that was made of white orchids with a sprinkling of forget-me-nots between the blossoms.

  It looked so lovely and so elegant that Carola felt no jewelled tiara could equal it.

  She saw the admiration in the Duke’s eyes the minute she entered the drawing room.

  She was not certain, however, from the way the Marquis gazed at her whether it was with admiration or just appreciation that she was playing her part so well.

  At dinner everybody seemed to be on particularly good form, teasing the future bride and bridegroom who were seated side by side and looking radiantly happy.

  “One thing is quite certain,” the Marquis remarked, “if you go on your honeymoon in one of your father’s motor cars it will receive a tremendous amount of publicity and sell a large number to other prospective brides and bridegrooms!”