The Mountain of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  There were several hats trimmed with feathers, bows and flowers – each one over-the-top and over-ornamented and any woman wearing one would be the cynosure of all eyes.

  Kayla did not bother to alter the hats. She merely pressed her own hat down on top of all the others, crushing them to make room for hers.

  She looked at the trunks, hoping that her grandfather would not think there were too many and then decided that the only sensible thing would be to leave her father’s clothes behind.

  She did not think her grandfather would destroy them and perhaps when she was married she could send for them.

  Suddenly she thought of something.

  Opening her father’s trunk, she took from it the object she had been thinking about and put it into her own case.

  Then, feeling seriously exhausted, she undressed and climbed into bed.

  She was so tired that she actually did fall asleep quite surprisingly quickly.

  *

  She was awake when, Rosie, the maid came at eight o’clock to draw her curtains and to bring in her breakfast.

  Kayla sat up in bed.

  “You be lookin’ ever so tired, my Lady,” said Rosie. “And I ’ears you be leavin’ with ’is Lordship sharp at ten o’clock.”

  “Yes, that is what I have to do,” Kayla replied with a sinking of her heart.

  The maid put down the breakfast tray at the side of the bed and then she walked over to the wardrobe.

  “Why you’ve packed all your things!” she exclaimed in surprise.

  “Yes, I have packed them, Rosie, but I want you to be very kind and take the two trunks to the right of the wardrobe and keep them somewhere safe for me. I might be able to send for them later. But I will be most grateful if you will keep a watchful eye on them both in the meantime.”

  Rosie was bright enough to know what Kayla meant.

  “I’ll put them upstairs in the empty room that be next to mine,” she promised. “And ’is Lordship won’t think of lookin’ in there.”

  “Thank you very much, Rosie,” Kayla sighed.

  There was no need to elaborate on why she wanted the trunks hidden.

  That left two trunks of her own together with the two that contained the awful clothes her grandfather had bought for her.

  “One more thing,” she asked Rosie. “Since the trunks are ready, will you have them taken downstairs now and see that they are put onto the carriage as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll do that, my Lady, and ’is Lordship ain’t havin’ breakfast till nine o’clock.”

  “Thank you, Rosie, but I am afraid I cannot give you any money, as I would like to, for being so kind in looking after me. But there are some strange ostrich feathers in the waste-paper basket you might find some use for and also I have a pretty purse I bought in Florence.”

  “That’s real kind of you, my Lady.” Rosie was clearly delighted with the purse, although Kayla felt embarrassed that there was no money in it, as she had given what little she possessed to the Courier who had brought her from Paris.

  Kayla deliberately waited until the clock on the wall chimed exactly ten o’clock before she left her bedroom.

  She had dressed herself in the white wedding dress and it did look a little strange with no decoration – yet it was better than when it was over-ornamented with lace, sequins and imitation diamonds.

  She put on her warm cloak and fastened it closely so that no one could see what she was wearing underneath.

  Then, carrying the headdress in a bag, she walked slowly down the stairs.

  As she expected, her grandfather was waiting in the hall.

  “Come along then,” he urged her. “You should have been waiting for me.”

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs, he asked,

  “Why have you nothing on your head?”

  “It was so elaborate, Grandpapa, I thought it might blow away. So I am carrying it in a bag so that I can put it on at the last moment.”

  The Duke seemed satisfied with this explanation and walked ahead down the steps.

  Kayla saw that the best carriage was waiting for them, drawn by four perfectly matched horses.

  There was a coachman and a footman on the box and a quick glance told her that her trunks had been placed behind and securely strapped into place.

  To her great relief, her grandfather did not notice the number of them when he climbed into the carriage.

  As she sat down beside him, he gave some last orders to the butler and then they drove off.

  To Kayla’s surprise, the Duke did not want to talk. She therefore sat in her corner of the carriage and closed her eyes as if she was asleep.

  She was really wondering frantically if there was in any way anything she could do to prevent the marriage taking place.

  Perhaps she could appeal to the bridegroom.

  If he had no wish to marry her, as her grandfather had intimated, he would perhaps agree to a postponement.

  It was a hope that would not leave her mind.

  It took them three long tiring hours to reach a large Posting inn.

  “We are having luncheon here,” announced the Duke, “and you can tidy yourself up before we go on to Rothwoode Court which is about two miles further on.”

  He obviously did not expect an answer and Kayla did not give one.

  She was taken into a bedroom, where here was hot water to wash her face and hands.

  She put the bag containing her headdress down on the bed and told the maid attending her that she would come back for it after luncheon was finished.

  It was rather warm and yet she did not dare remove her cape and much to her relief her grandfather did not seem to notice.

  When she went downstairs, she was taken to a private room where they were to have luncheon.

  The Duke was drinking a glass of champagne, but he did not offer Kayla one.

  As soon as they sat down at the table, servants came in with the food. It was quite a passable meal, but the Duke, however, complained several times at the fare, demanding a cheese they did not have.

  He still did not attempt to talk to Kayla and she was therefore silent.

  If this was to be the last meal she would share with her grandfather, she ruminated that it was an event she would much prefer to forget.

  Nothing could be grimmer or more depressing than the meals they had eaten at Forde Hall. If her grandfather talked at all, it was usually to be insulting to her or else it was to complain about something to do with the estate.

  At half-past one the Duke took out his fob watch and looked at it,

  “Come along,” he grunted, “we have to be there on time.”

  “I will just go and collect what I have left upstairs, Grandpapa,” Kayla told him.

  She ran from the room and picked up the headdress off the bed.

  When she went downstairs again, her grandfather was outside in the yard and about to climb into the carriage.

  As Kayla joined him, he asked again,

  “Why have you nothing on your head?”

  “I thought it might be disarranged before we arrive,” replied Kayla, “so I will put it on when we arrive.”

  Again he seemed satisfied with her explanation.

  Having finished his luncheon with a large glass of port, the Duke closed his eyes as if he was feeling drowsy.

  Kayla kept very quiet as she was feeling more and more terrified of all that lay ahead.

  There was, however, nothing she could do about it.

  She could only send up an anguished prayer to her father and mother to help her in any way they could.

  ‘How can I escape, Papa?’ she prayed. ‘I am sure as you are so clever you can think of something. If I run away, they will catch me and I have no money.’

  The prayer was one of desperation.

  Then she could almost see her father smiling at her.

  She thought, although it seemed improbable, that he was telling her not to worry and things might well turn out to be
better than she expected.

  ‘How can they be?’ she asked him silently, ‘when I am being forced to marry a man who is so notorious for his copious love affairs with beautiful women in London and in Paris?’

  She remembered what the French girls at the Convent had said, when they talked about the actresses, the courtesans and the other voluptuous women of Paris.

  If that was what the Viscount enjoyed so much, then why on earth was he marrying her?

  Could it really be possible that he, a grown-up man, was being pressed, as she was, into this marriage?

  Was his father, whom the Duke obviously disliked, as difficult as her grandfather?

  They were questions that Kayla had no answer to.

  She started when the Duke suddenly blurted out,

  “Here we are and right on time! No one can accuse me of being late.”

  Kayla opened her eyes.

  They were passing through two very impressive gates and driving up a long avenue.

  Tentatively, although she was afraid it might cause a storm, she drew the rose-trimmed cap from the bag she was holding.

  She put it on her head and then the Duke saw it.

  “What are you wearing? That is not what I bought for you,” he roared.

  Even as he spoke, the carriage came to a standstill outside the front steps and a footman opened the door.

  Muttering beneath his breath, the Duke climbed out.

  He walked up the steps followed by Kayla.

  A butler was waiting just inside the hall.

  “His Lordship’s in the Chapel, Your Grace,” he said to the Duke. “Will you and her Ladyship please follow me.”

  Kayla realised that a footman was waiting to take her cape and in almost defiant gesture, she unfastened it and handed it to him.

  Then, as the butler led the way from the hall followed by her grandfather, she came up behind.

  They walked down a long corridor and the walls were decorated with exceedingly fine pictures.

  They turned into another passage and after they had gone a little way down it, Kayla could hear the sound of an organ being played in the distance.

  It was then that the Duke stopped.

  As she came up beside him, he held out his arm. He did not speak and Kayla put her hand inside it.

  They walked on side by side and a few seconds later the butler opened an imposing door at the end of the passage.

  The music grew louder and louder

  This was the Chapel of Rothwoode Court.

  With a sinking of her heart, Kayla now realised that the bridegroom would be there waiting for her.

  So would the Parson.

  There would be no chance of her begging for time, for a reprieve or even to be introduced to her future husband.

  They entered the Chapel together.

  It was small and very ancient with a beautiful stained-glass window. There were six candles burning on the altar.

  The Duke drew Kayla forward and she could see that the Parson was standing there waiting for them.

  A step below him stood two men.

  There was no one else in the Chapel.

  Kayla moved a few steps further forward.

  She found it impossible to look at the two men.

  She bent her head not only because she was shy but in desperation.

  She was to be married.

  Nothing she could say or do could prevent it.

  As soon as she and the Duke reached the Parson, he started the Marriage Service in a funereal voice.

  Kayla could not look up.

  She was acutely aware that there was a man tall and slim, standing beside her.

  Then she heard his voice.

  It was deep and she thought bitter.

  The ring was blessed and put on her finger.

  It was then she realised that the bridegroom, no less than she did, disliked with every nerve in his body having to make her his wife.

  He was hating every moment of the Service, resenting violently what he was being forced to do.

  They knelt for the Blessing.

  Kayla felt strong vibrations of anguish coming from him, which, she thought, were very similar to her own.

  The Parson blessed them.

  It all seemed a mockery.

  They were now a man and a woman joined together in Holy Matrimony.

  The bride and bridegroom then rose to their feet.

  The Duke and the Earl walked ahead of them down the short aisle and along the passage.

  They then entered a beautifully furnished room that overlooked an extensive garden.

  There was a long table on which stood a bottle of champagne in a gold ice-cooler and four glasses.

  The Earl spoke first.

  “We will just drink your health, Christopher,” he said. “Then you can be on your way to London. You will want to be there in time for dinner.”

  His words were ordinary, but Kayla thought there was something like a note of triumph in his voice.

  He had very clearly got his own way.

  “That is a very nice thought,” the Duke came in. “I warned my coachman that he was to transfer the luggage to whatever carriage the young couple will use.”

  “There will be two carriages,” the Earl remarked. “Christopher wished to drive a new team of chestnuts I have recently bought. They will be much faster in a chaise than in any other kind of carriage.”

  “Yes, of course,” the Duke agreed at once, “that is very sensible of you.”

  The two older men might, Kayla thought, have been talking to each other at a casual meeting or out racing.

  Not at a wedding that was of such importance to both of them.

  The Earl put a glass of champagne into her hand. She was somehow aware, although she did not look at him, that Christopher helped himself.

  “To your good health, Christopher,” the Earl intoned. “And may you and your wife be very happy.”

  He took a large draught from his glass as he spoke.

  The Duke raised his glass.

  “Of course I must agree to that and I think these two young people are well suited to each other. I do understand that the bridegroom has a considerable penchant for actresses and the bride’s mother was, as I expect you know, a success on the stage.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence.

  Then the Earl asked furiously,

  “What the devil are you talking about? This is the daughter of James, your eldest son, is it not?”

  “You are mistaken,” replied the Duke. “When James was killed in that accident whilst hunting, Alastair became my eldest surviving son. You may well have forgotten that I exiled him from England because he had married an actress and this is their daughter, Kayla.”

  With an exclamation of sheer fury, the Earl flung his glass of champagne down on the ground.

  It smashed into a dozen pieces.

  “How dare you – ” he screamed, his voice vibrating round the room.

  Kayla felt a hand take her arm.

  Christopher drew her swiftly towards the door and opened it.

  They went out into the passage and he hurried her into the hall.

  Kayla could hear the two older men’s voices yelling hysterically at each other.

  When they reached the hall, the front door was open and they could see the chaise outside.

  Christopher stopped to pick up his hat and cane and a footman slipped Kayla’s cape over her shoulders.

  They walked down the carpet-covered steps towards the chaise.

  Christopher climbed into the driving seat and Kayla sat beside him as a footman placed a rug over her knees.

  The groom waiting beside the horses sprang into the seat at the back.

  They were off.

  Kayla could hardly believe they had left the extreme fury of her grandfather and the Earl behind them.

  She knew now that her grandfather had planned the whole exercise as his revenge on the Earl.

  He had apparently disli
ked him ever since they had been at school together and now she could see how his mind had been working – from the very moment that the Earl had written to him proposing that his son should marry into the Barninforde family.

  It had undoubtedly been, for the Duke, a very subtle way of scoring off the Earl and Kayla could see how cleverly he had done it.

  Of course, when he told the Earl that he was sending the daughter of his ‘eldest son’, it was thought that her father was the Earl of Barne.

  Lord Alastair had never claimed his title nor come home from abroad to do so.

  Naturally the Earl had imagined he was having the daughter of Lord James as Christopher’s bride. It had not occurred to him that Lord Alastair, now dead too, had been the Earl of Barne for a short time. Kayla could now see it all happening.

  Everything had played directly into her grandfather’s hands.

  He had won every trick and wreaked his revenge yet again on her innocent mother.

  Now, as the marriage had already taken place, there was nothing the Earl could do about it.

  It was even cleverer, she thought, for her grandfather to have said they were in mourning.

  There was therefore no chance of the family being informed of what was happening, nor of there being a large wedding with a great number of guests present.

  It was quite obvious, if there had been, that someone like Lady Ackroyd would have known exactly who she was.

  The whole plot would then have been exposed before the marriage could take place.

  ‘Grandpapa has won,’ Kayla thought miserably. ‘But now, what about me?’

  She glanced sideways and looked at Christopher for the first time.

  It had been impossible for her to raise her eyes to him in the Chapel nor when they had left it to drink champagne.

  Her first thought was that he was very much more handsome than she had expected him to be.

  Secondly, she sensed that he was very angry.

  She could tell by the tightness of his lips and the squareness of his jaw.

  In fact he was as furious as his father was.

  They had been deceived, or perhaps crooked was the better word, by the Duke.

  It was something no man would endure calmly and Kayla wanted to say that she was sorry.

  But, as Christopher did not speak to her, she remained silent.

  He was driving, she was aware, extremely well and she thought that her father would certainly have approved of the way he handled the horses.