Lovers in Lisbon

by Barbara Cartland

  Then, as if the dam was broken and she was carried away on the waves bursting through it, she could speak.

  She told him, a complete stranger, of her great love for Juan that because he had loved her but now never wanted to see her again that there was nothing she could do but die.

  “H-how can I go on – living when there is – nothing to live for?” she cried passionately. “How can I eat and sleep – laugh and talk – if he is not there?”

  She paused for breath before she kept on piteously,

  “I am – dead already! All I want to do now is to commit – my body to the waves!”

  “That would be a crime,” the old man insisted. “So I have an idea and I now want you to listen to it very carefully.”

  Because of the way he spoke to her and because for the moment she did not think of him as another human being, Inès listened.

  It was almost as if he was an Archangel sent from Heaven to help her.

  “I do understand,” the old man said in his deep voice, “that you cannot live here in the house where you have been so happy, but it would be a mistake for you to go to Paris alone. I am therefore suggesting that if you die, as you wish to do, then come with me.”

  Inès did not understand and she looked up at him through her wet eyelashes.

  “All that should concern you,” he said, “is that to those who know you and especially to Juan, whoever he may be, you will be dead.”

  “That is exactly – what I – want.”

  “And that is what they will think.”

  She stared at him and he went on,

  “You will leave your clothes and your jewellery here and they will think when they find them that you have actually done what you intended to do.”

  His voice was very gentle as he continued,

  “But because your beauty must not be destroyed, I will take you away. You must start a new life, which will be quite different, with someone whom the memories of the past will not be as agonising for you as they are now.”

  *

  Later Inès was to think that the old man had totally mesmerised her into doing what he wished.

  Her tears had left her so weak that it was even more difficult to think clearly than it had been before.

  He told her what to do and it was easier to obey him than to argue with him.

  She took off the expensive gown that she had bought in Paris and which Juan had said she looked very lovely in.

  She next laid it near the edge of the gully and then she added her jewellery, the diamond necklace, earrings and bracelets, as if thrown carelessly down on the ground.

  Only when she was completely naked did the old man wrap her in the light cloak that he was wearing and it covered her completely from her neck to her bare feet.

  Then he led her down the twisting path that ended on the beach. It was where the rocks met the less turbulent part of the sea.

  Waiting there was a boat manned by two oarsmen.

  On the old man’s instructions they lifted Inès into the boat and she sat in the stern, where the old man joined her.

  She was hardly aware of what was happening as the oarsmen rowed the boat away from the shore. Keeping out of the break of the waves, it took them only a short while to reach a large yacht anchored in the Harbour of Estoril.

  Inès was lifted aboard, feeling that she was completely in a dream.

  She heard the old man giving orders to the two oarsmen to put to sea and it was as if his voice came from very far away.

  Then the darkness seemed to rise up from the deck where she was standing and she knew no more.

  *

  Inès came back to consciousness.

  She found herself lying in a comfortable bed in what she realised was a cabin in a smart yacht.

  The sea was calm and she could feel the faint throb of the engine.

  ‘Why am I here? What is – happening?’ she wanted to ask.

  Then, as she made a helpless movement with her hands, somebody came to her side.

  Lifting her head, he or she then touched her lips with a glass. She was not thirsty, but she drank because it felt easier to do so than to protest.

  Then, as whoever had lifted her head put it back again on the pillow, she closed her eyes.

  She did not want to think, she did not want to be conscious, she wanted only to die.

  She must have fallen asleep.

  When she did awake, it was to find that it was morning and she knew that what she had drunk had been a soothing potion.

  There was a distinct dryness in her mouth which she recognised as similar to that caused by herbs. She sometimes took them when it had been impossible to sleep because Juan was not with her.

  The sun was shining at the sides of the curtains that covered the two portholes.

  The yacht was still moving and only as she opened her eyes was she aware that beneath the sheets she was naked.

  It was then that she remembered, she remembered the old man sitting on the side of the gully.

  He had told her that she could die as far as everybody who knew her was concerned and yet live a new life.

  ‘He is crazy and so am I to have listened to him,’ she told herself. ‘Why am I here? What am I doing? I must go back.’

  Then the question came clear and unmistakable.

  Back to where? Back to whom?

  Not to Juan, who did not want her and was to marry somebody else.

  Not to her parents, who would commiserate with her, but who would also say that it was entirely her own fault. Her mother had pleaded with her not to do anything so outrageous as to listen to Juan.

  Her father had warned her severely as well that she was taking a step in her life that she would deeply regret in the years to come.

  He had been right – of course he had been right!

  How could she endure the way they would pity her?

  ‘I am dead – I am – dead!’

  Inès said the words over and over to herself.

  Now she could see her gown lying at the edge of the gully with her diamonds glittering beside her shoes as she had left them.

  ‘I am – dead!’

  She closed her eyes and wondered how she could suffocate herself, lose consciousness and die.

  If that proved impossible, then she could throw herself into the sea and drown and no one would be able to stop her.

  That was the obvious solution, she would drown herself.

  Perhaps it would be even easier from the yacht than in the gully.

  She had somehow been afraid that if she fell, as she had intended, she would have to endure the pain of being battered to pieces by the surging waves. Instinctively she shrank from the thought of it.

  ‘Now it will be easier,’ she whispered confidently.

  Then she suddenly was afraid because the cabin door opened –

  *

  Years later she would sometimes smile when she remembered how resourceful the old man had been in making her live when she wanted to die.

  She was to learn that they had not gone far away from Estoril that night. In fact they had merely moved to Lisbon.

  Very early in the morning clothes had been brought for her before she was awake.

  As she put on a gown, she found that it fitted her almost to perfection. It was as if it had been made to her measurements.

  When she was dressed, the Steward, a middle-aged man with a family, told her that his Master was waiting for her in the salon.

  She wanted to ask his Master’s name and then she thought it might sound strange that she should not know it.

  Instead she went up the companionway and into a beautifully decorated salon.

  Sitting in an armchair was the old man who had told her to live when she had wanted to die.

  She walked towards him a little self-consciously.

  He rose in a way that seemed surprisingly agile for his white hair.

  “You are even more beautiful than I remember,” he said in French and kissed h
er hand.

  “I think first,” Inès replied, “I should ask you ‒ your name. It seems strange to me that I should be your guest without knowing it.”

  “A guest I am very happy to have aboard,” he replied, “and let me introduce myself. I am Le Duc de Monreuil.”

  “And I – ” Inès began.

  He put up his hand.

  “No, don’t tell me. You don’t exist. You must remember that you are dead and the very lovely lady I am entertaining at this moment has no past, but I do most sincerely hope, a very enjoyable future.”

  Inès had laughed because she could not help it.

  It seemed so absurd and she could hardly believe that this was really happening to her.

  “When you were speaking of yourself yesterday,” the Duc said, “I learnt that your name is ‘Inès’ and that, I think, is a name we might keep because it is so attractive. But to me you are ‘Inès Vental’.”

  He smiled and went on,

  “Now I have Christened you and we can start from here.”

  Because the yacht was moving, Inès had sat down, and said,

  “I find it impossible to – believe that this is all – happening to me.”

  “And I find it impossible to believe that anyone could be so beautiful,” the Duc replied.

  Inès blushed and he went on,

  “I am a connoisseur of beauty. I will show you my Château in France and my house in Paris. I have also a delightful Villa in Monte Carlo which I think you will enjoy, as well as being attracted, as all women are, to the green baize tables of the Casino.”

  The way he spoke made Inès feel as if he was mesmerising her once again and after a moment she said,

  “I wanted to die – and although you have – given me a – new life – I think it may be very – frightening.”

  “Not if you are with me,” the Duc replied.

  For the first time the thought flashed through her mind that he was a man.

  She looked at him questioningly, her eyes very wide and revealing.

  He smiled at her and declared,

  “My dear, I am very old and, while I can admire you and even worship you mentally, it is impossible for me to be your lover!”

  His frankness made Inès feel embarrassed.

  She looked away from him, wanting to say that it was not what she was thinking.

  But it would have been untrue and the words she would have spoken died away in her throat.

  “What I intend to do,” the Duc went on and she knew that he was aware of her thoughts, “is to present you to the world as a beauty without peer, a beauty who is so perfect that men will fall at your feet and women will envy you!”

  Inès laughed not only at his words but because he was speaking to her with a beguiling magnetism that she found hard to resist.

  “I am seventy,” the Duc admitted, “and I thought I had savoured all the joys of life in one way or another. Then when I saw you, I realised I had found a treasure that was not yet in my collection, but so unusual and unique that I now have a new enthusiasm for living.”

  He smiled at her before he added,

  “So you see, I am very grateful to you.”

  *

  They sailed away from Portugal, moving South towards the Mediterranean.

  Inès found it impossible not to be interested and even excited by the way the Duc talked to her.

  He was an extremely intelligent, witty and well-read man, who had travelled all over the world many times.

  As she was to learn, his collection of pictures, furniture, Chinese porcelain and Russian icons was revered by connoisseurs.

  She also would not have been a woman if she had not appreciated the gowns he gave her and her jewellery surpassed anything that she had ever owned before.

  At night when she was alone she cried for Juan like a child who has lost everything that was secure in its small narrow world.

  At other times she cried like a woman who desired him as a man.

  She felt the tortures of Hell within her body because he was giving another woman what had been hers and hers alone.

  She quickly learned to respect the Duc and later found her fondness for him deepening, although it was different from anything she had known before.

  She tried to be what he wanted her to be and she soon discovered that it was not really very difficult.

  He showed her off proudly wherever they went.

  After one whole year together she had been painted by the most famous artists in France and had sat for the most esteemed sculptors in Rome.

  “I have been thinking, Inès,” the Duc said to her one day, “of something unusual I could give you as a birthday present.”

  “You have given me so much already,” Inès replied, “and I am so very grateful. I could not be so greedy as to ask for more.”

  She spoke of the sables, the ermine and other furs that she owned, of the diamonds and pearls, the ruby necklace he had given her at Christmas and the many bracelets and earrings that went with it.

  “No, you are to give me nothing more,” she protested. “And I can only say again, thank you, thank you, for what I have already.”

  “This gift is different,” the Duc told her, “and what you will receive on your hand is very small.”

  “If you are trying to make me guess, quite frankly I have not the slightest idea what you are saying.”

  “Very well, I will tell you,” the Duc replied. “I am asking you, Inès, to become my wife so that you will have my title when, as is inevitable, I shall no longer be able to be with you.”

  Inès stared at him in astonishment.

  She had never for one moment thought of marriage where the Duc was concerned.

  This was simply because she had learned the hard way from Juan that she was not well bred enough to be – the wife of a Marques.

  It was quite impossible that the Duc de Monreuil, who was one of the most important aristocrats in France, would offer her marriage.

  “Are – you – saying – ?” she stammered.

  “I am saying that we will be married tomorrow in my Private Chapel,” the Duc replied, “and I have already told my Chaplain to be ready to perform the Ceremony!”

  Inès had risen from the sofa where she was sitting and crossed the room to kneel down at his feet.

  “I understand what you are offering me,” she said, “but are you wise? Is it the right thing for you to do?”

  “It is what I want to do and that is always right where I am concerned.”

  He put up his hand to touch her cheek as he went on,

  “You have made me very happy this past year and, while I hope that I can stay with you a little longer, I want to make quite sure that you are provided for and looked after when I am dead.”

  “But you must not die!” Inès cried.

  She was suddenly afraid of being left alone in the world again and of having no one to protect her from the men she knew would pursue her very ardently if they did not believe she belonged to the Duc.

  She had always avoided being touched by anyone or being kissed.

  Juan had taken her heart and, as far as she was concerned, her body also belonged to him.

  The mere idea of another man making love to her made her feel sick.

  As if the Duc watching her knew exactly what she was thinking, he said quietly,

  “Exactly! And that is just why, my lovely one, you will be far safer as La Duchesse de Monreuil than as a lone woman who is fair game, especially when she is quite as beautiful as you are.”

  Inès had pressed her hand against his cheek as she said,

  “I-I am not – grand – enough.”

  “No one could be more beautiful than you and, where beauty is concerned, there are no rules of precedence!”

  She had laughed as he had meant her to do.

  Then, although it seemed utterly incredible, the next night she was now La Duchesse de Monreuil.

  But she slept alone.

  Chapter
Three

  The Duchesse drove back to The Grand Hotel and told the Manager that she was leaving.

  “That is very regrettable, madame,” he mouthed in consternation.

  “I have found a house where I would like to stay for a few weeks because it is so quiet,” the Duchesse explained.

  As the Manager still looked worried, she added,

  “I am, of course, very grateful to you for the way that you have looked after me, but now I will inform my maid that I am leaving and when she has packed will you provide a carriage which will bring her to join me?”

  “I will naturally do anything that Madame wishes,” the Manager responded.

  The Duchesse, having tipped everyone most generously, drove back through the City to Felicita’s lodgings.

  She was not surprised to find the girl waiting for her anxiously in the doorway.

  She realised without being told that Felicita was afraid that after all her benefactor had changed her mind.

  When Felicita saw the carriage with its two horses approaching, she gave a childish little jump for joy.

  She ran down the few steps onto the pavement.

  “You have – come! You have come – madame!” she cried out as the carriage drew to a standstill.

  “I always keep my word,” the Duchesse said quietly. “I see that you have packed your luggage.”

  “I have very little to bring with me,” Felicita explained. “I had to dispose of – various things when – Mama was so ill.”

  The Duchesse knew at once that this meant that she had sold anything worth selling as she had needed the money to buy food and medicines for her mother.

  The footman put the small trunk in the carriage and Felicita stepped in and sat down on the small seat as she had before.

  “You have had something to eat?” the Duchesse enquired.

  “I paid my landlady and she was so grateful that she gave me some of the luncheon that she had prepared for her son.”

  “And you feel better?”

  “Much, much better, madame. But above all I am excited because I am coming with you!”

  Now they were driving along the road by the sea that led from Estoril.

  The Duchesse was aware that Felicita was curious, but she did not break the silence and out of good manners asked no questions.