An Angel Runs Away

by Barbara Cartland

  He walked across the sitting room and looked out into the passage, then quickly walked past the door into the blue salon and out into the hall.

  There were two footmen on duty whispering together who sprang to attention as he appeared.

  The Marquis passed them and, walking down the steps, set off towards the stables. The footmen were so astonished at his behaviour that they made no effort to try to detain him.

  He reached the stables to find his phaeton standing in the centre of the cobbled yard, while his groom and two stable-lads were giving his horses a drink from buckets spilling over with water.

  The Marquis frowned before he climbed into his phaeton, picked up the reins and, as his groom flung himself into the seat behind, drove off.

  When he turned up the drive, down which they had so recently come, he was furiously angry in a way he could not remember feeling for many years.

  How could he, with his discrimination and what he had always thought of as his perception, have considered marrying somebody who could talk in a manner that had not only been unpleasant but positively ill bred?

  He had prided himself for so long on being a good judge not only of horseflesh and men, but of women too, that he was appalled at his own failure to realise that Lady Sarah, like so many of her sex, was interested only in a man’s position.

  She wanted the place he could give her in Society, not what he was in himself, which to him was of sole significance.

  He was used to the sophisticated women with whom he had affaires de coeur losing their hearts irresistibly to him and loving him to distraction. He could hardly believe that the young woman on whom he had looked with favour should have considered him in such a cold calculating manner.

  He was genuinely shocked at the way she had spoken and at the same time humiliated that he should not have been aware of what lay behind her beautiful face.

  Like any young greenhorn, he told himself angrily, he had been captivated into believing a superficial beauty covered a heart of gold. Perhaps even, an idea that was often laughed at, a soul.

  It was something he wanted in the woman he would call his wife and who would be the mother of his children.

  ‘How can I have been such a damned fool?’ he asked himself furiously.

  Only years of self-control prevented him from pushing his horses hard in his desire to distance himself from Chessington Hall with all possible speed.

  ‘I will never marry – never!’ he told himself. He passed through the iron gates and set off down a side lane that would bring him out onto the main road.

  He realised that in one aspect of the matter he had had a very lucky escape and he felt now like a man who by a hair’s breadth had been saved from total destruction.

  He was well aware that the fact that he had called at Chessington Hall and then not ‘come up to scratch’ would infuriate the Earl and he could only hope that it would upset and distress Sarah.

  Although he felt contemptuous of any woman who would sell herself to the highest bidder, he knew that he was more shocked than by anything else that he should have been so obtuse!

  How could he have been beguiled as actually to be prepared to offer marriage, which he had never done before, to a girl who was completely and utterly unworthy of bearing his name.

  His chin was square, his lips were set in a tight line and his eyes beneath his drooping eyelids were dark with anger as he drove on.

  Then nearly a mile along the main highway he saw ahead and there was no one else in sight, a small figure running along at the side of the road, who turned to look back at the sound of his approach.

  Then she deliberately stepped into the centre of the road and held out her arms.

  He was surprised, but there was nothing he could do but pull his horses to a standstill only a few feet from the slight figure with her outstretched arms.

  She had not moved and had not in fact shown the slightest fear that he might run her down.

  As the phaeton came to a stop, she ran to his side saying in a breathless little voice,

  “Would – you be very – kind, sir, and – give me a – lift?”

  The Marquis looked down, seeing a small flowerlike face turned up to his, dominated by two very large grey eyes that were surrounded by wet lashes which were accounted for by the tearstains on her cheeks.

  It was a very pathetic little face.

  He could see that, with the speed at which she had been hurrying along the road, her bonnet had been pushed onto the back of her head and her hair, which was curly, was rioting untidily over her forehead.

  As he looked, wondering what he should reply, to his astonishment, the girl, who was so young she seemed little more than a child, exclaimed,

  “Oh – it is – you!”

  “Do you know me?” the Marquis enquired.

  “Of course, but I thought you would be with Sarah at The Hall.”

  The Marquis looked at her in astonishment. Then before he could speak the girl went on,

  “Please – please – if you are going back to London – take me with you – if only a – little way.”

  The Marquis realised now that she was not a village girl as he had first thought, but spoke with an educated voice and her reference to ‘Sarah’ told him that she must obviously have something to do with the Chessington-Crewe household.

  “Surely,” he said, “you are not going to London alone?”

  “I have to! I cannot – stand it any longer and, if you will not take me – I shall have to – wait and find somebody else – who will!”

  There was a desperation in the young voice that made the Marquis say,

  “I imagine that you are running away and I will give you a lift on condition that you explain to me what you are doing and where you are going.”

  “Thank you – thank you!”

  Her eyes seemed suddenly to hold the sunshine in them. She ran around the back of the phaeton and without waiting for the groom who was getting down to help her, climbed up onto the seat beside the Marquis.

  “You are very kind,” she said, “but I never expected it to be – you – when I heard your horses coming down the road.”

  The Marquis drove on slowly.

  “I think you should start at the beginning,” he said, “and tell me who you are.”

  “My name is Ula Forde.”

  “And you come from Chessington Hall?”

  “Yes, I am living there or – I was!”

  There was a little break in the words and then she said quickly,

  “Don’t try to – make me go – back! I have made up my mind, and whatever – happens to me – it cannot be – worse than what has been happening already.”

  “Suppose you tell me what it is,” the Marquis suggested. “You must be aware that if I behave correctly I should take you back.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are much too young to go to London alone, unless there is somebody there who is waiting to look after you.”

  “I will find – somebody.”

  The Marquis thought dryly that this was very unlikely, but aloud he said,

  “What has upset you so much at Chessington Hall that you have been forced to run away?”

  “I-I cannot stand being – beaten by Uncle Lionel and slapped by Sarah and told that – everything I do is wrong – simply because they – hated my father.”

  The Marquis turned his head and looked at her in complete astonishment.

  “Are you telling me that the Earl of Chessington-Crewe is your uncle?”

  She nodded her head.

  “Yes.”

  “And that he beats you?”

  “He beats me because – Sarah makes him – and also because he will never forgive Mama for running away with my father – but they were so happy – so very very happy – and so was I until – I came to my uncle’s house – where it is exactly like being – in Hell!”

  The Marquis thought Ula must be deranged. Then he realised that she was not speak
ing in a hysterical manner, but in a sincere and collected tone of voice that made it difficult for him not to believe what she was saying.

  “What was wrong with your father,” he asked after a moment’s silence, “that made the Earl dislike him?”

  “My mother – who was his sister – was very beautiful – and she ran away with Papa the night before she was to be married to the Duke of Avon.”

  “And who was your father?”

  “He was a Curate – the Curate of the village Church of Chessington. Afterwards he became Vicar of a little village in Worcestershire – where I was born.”

  “I can understand if your mother ran away the night before her marriage, it must have annoyed the family.”

  “They none of them ever spoke to Mama again – but she was so happy with Papa that it did not matter and, although we were very poor and often had very little to eat – we used to laugh and everything was wonderful – until they were – both k-killed last year in a carriage accident.”

  Again her voice was not hysterical, but the Marquis could hear the pain in it and realised how deeply it had upset her.

  “It was then,” she went on, “that Uncle Lionel came to the funeral and – when it was over – he took me back with him – and I have been miserable ever since.”

  “What have you done to make him angry?” the Marquis asked.

  “He just hates me for being – Papa’s child – and I cannot do anything that is right – and it’s not only the beatings and the slaps – and Sarah pulling my hair – but the fact that there is no – love in that big house – while our little Vicarage was always full of love – like sunshine.”

  She was just stating a fact, the Marquis recognised, and not trying to impress him in any way.

  Then, after they had driven a little farther, he asked,

  “What made you run away today, particularly?”

  “It was because you were coming to – propose to Sarah and everybody was in a fluster. Sarah changed her gown several times to impress you – and because she said I was slow at doing what she wanted she – hit me with her hairbrush – and told her mother that I was being deliberately – obstructive because I was – jealous!”

  Ula paused and then she went on,

  “Aunt Mary said, ‘Are you surprised? No one will ever marry Ula, since she is without a penny to her name and the child of a common Parson, who left a pile of debts because I expect he was even too stupid to think of paying them out of the poor-box’.”

  Ula gave a deep sigh.

  “I suppose she thought that she was making a joke, but I suddenly realised I could not – bear it any longer – and when Sarah hit me again – I ran out of the room and out of the house – and I swear I will never – never – go back!”

  “What will you do with yourself?” the Marquis enquired.

  “I intend to go to London and I intend to become a Cyprian!”

  The Marquis was so astonished he jerked the reins of the horses so that they threw up their heads.

  “A Cyprian!” he exclaimed. “Do you know what you are saying?”

  “Yes, I do. Cyprians have a lot of money given to them. Cousin Gerald, Sarah’s brother, came home last week – and at first there was a terrible row because some of the tradesmen had written to Uncle Lionel to say that, as he would not pay his debts, they intended suing him in the Courts.”

  She glanced up at the Marquis as she spoke to see if he was listening and she went on,

  “He raged at Gerald for some time, then Gerald said, ‘I am sorry, Papa, but I spent all my allowance on a very pretty little Cyprian. She asked me so nicely to give her what she wanted that I found it impossible to refuse her. I feel sure you understand’.”

  “And what did your uncle say?” the Marquis enquired.

  “He laughed and said, ‘I do understand, my boy, and I felt the same when I was your age. Very well, I will settle these debts, but you are not to be so extravagant in the future’.”

  “So that made you feel that you could be a Cyprian?”

  “I-I am not quite – certain what they do,” Ula admitted, “but I am sure – somebody will be able to tell me.”

  “And whom do you intend to ask?”

  She smiled at him and he thought as he looked at her again that she looked very like a small rather badly treated angel who might have fallen out of Heaven by mistake.

  “Now that I have met you,” Ula replied, “I can ask you!”

  “And I will answer you,” the Marquis replied. “It is quite impossible for you to be a Cyprian!”

  “But – why?”

  “Because you are a lady.”

  “Is there a rule that ladies cannot be Cyprians?”

  “Yes!” the Marquis replied without hesitation.

  There was silence and then Ula said,

  “Then I shall have to find something else to do. Perhaps I could be a cook. I can cook very well when I have the right ingredients.”

  Before the Marquis could say anything, she added,

  “Perhaps I – look rather – young and people would – hesitate before allowing me into their kitchens.”

  “I think that is undoubtedly the truth, but what would you really like to do, apart from those two things?”

  Ula gave a little laugh and it was a very musical sound.

  “What I would really like is – quite impossible – but it is to be an ‘Incomparable’ – like Sarah – and have all the attractive men at my feet – begging me to marry them!”

  “Then I presume, you will choose the most important of them!” the Marquis said sourly.

  Ula shook her head.

  “Of course not! I would choose somebody I – loved and who would love me – but it is something that will never happen.”

  “Why should you say that?”

  “Because, as Aunt Mary and Sarah have told me over and over again, no one will ever marry me because of the scandal Mama caused when she ran away with Papa – and because I have no money – not even a penny to my name!”

  She gave a little sigh.

  “It would be wonderful, even though Mama said it was vulgar, to be ‘The Toast of St. James’s’, with everybody thinking I was beautiful! But that is something that will never happen, so I just pretend it might in my dreams – and no one can take those away from me!”

  ‘An ‘Incomparable’ like Sarah!’ the Marquis said to himself.

  Then, when the traffic began to thicken on the road as they neared London, an idea came to him, an idea that made him look even more cynical than usual.

  Now his eyes beneath his drooping eyelids were bright, at the same time dark, as if he were still angry, but working out a plan in his mind.

  chapter two

  They drove for a short while in silence. Then when the road was cleared and Ula thought the Marquis would attend to her, she said,

  “May I ask you – something?”

  “Of course.”

  “If you leave me in London, you will not – tell Sarah where I – have gone?”

  “I shall not be seeing Sarah,” the Marquis answered.

  Ula looked at him in astonishment.

  “But I thought – I understood you were to – propose to her this afternoon.”

  “I have not seen your cousin nor do I intend to do so,” the Marquis replied, “and I have no intention of marrying her or anyone else!”

  Now there was a note in his voice that told Ula he was very angry and, after a moment, she said,

  “Uncle Lionel will be very upset.”

  “That cannot be helped.”

  There was silence and then the Marquis enquired,

  “I presume you are surprised that I have not proposed to your cousin as everybody thought I intended to do.”

  “Everybody was so certain that was why – you were calling,” Ula replied. “But if you have – really made up your mind – not to marry her, I think you are wise.”

  “Why?”

  He knew Ula was feeling
for words before she replied,

  “I am sure that the only way for – two people to be really – happy when they are married is for them to love – each other.”

  “Then you were aware that Lady Sarah did not love me?” the Marquis asked.

  “Y-yes.”

  “She loves somebody called Hugo?” he questioned.

  Ula shook her head.

  “She used to laugh at his poems, which were really quite beautiful, almost as good as Lord Byron’s.”

  “She showed them to you?”

  “No, she threw them away and perhaps it was wrong of me to do so, but because they were so well written I – kept them.”

  “You have not told me who this Hugo is.”

  “He is Lord Dawlish and I feel sorry – very sorry for him.”

  “Why?”

  The Marquis’s sharp monosyllabic questions did not seem to perturb Ula and she answered,

  “Because, although he loved Sarah with – all his heart, she does not – love him and would therefore if she married him, make him very unhappy.”

  There was a little pause.

  Then Ula said,

  “They have said lots of strange things about you, that you have – no heart, but I don’t believe that anyone who has so many fine horses would not – love them.”

  The Marquis understood her reasoning and thought it something no one else had ever said to him.

  After a moment he remarked,

  “I think we must get down to your problem. As you have no one to love you or protect you, you will find London a very frightening and, in fact, a very dangerous place.”

  She looked at him a little apprehensively, then said,

  “No one would steal anything from me, as I don’t possess anything.”

  “I was not speaking of money.”

  “Then I cannot think what other dangers there are, except that Uncle Lionel may send the – Bow Street Runners to look for me, although I think when Aunt Mary realises I have – gone, she will be glad.”

  “And what about your cousin Sarah?”

  “She hates having another girl in the house, even though I was treated as if I was a servant and not allowed to – come down to meals if there was – a visitor.”

  “That seems extraordinary considering you are your uncle’s niece!”