Lovers in Lisbon

by Barbara Cartland

  Felicita’s heart gave a leap.

  If she could see him again – if she could only explain to him what had happened – if he still loved her even a – little –

  Then she understood what the Duchesse was implying and she was shocked.

  Of course she would never do anything so wrong or so wicked as to become any man’s mistress.

  Even though she loved the Marques with her whole heart, she would not become his.

  Not only would her mother have been horrified, but the Virgin Mary, to whom she said her prayers, would tell her that it was wrong and a sin.

  Her teaching at the Convent and all her devotion to God had made her aware that to live with a man without marriage was to degrade herself.

  It was also a sin beyond any redemption.

  In a voice that seemed to come from far away, she said,

  “D-did you – say, madame, that you were – sending me to – England?”

  “Yes, to England,” the Duchesse answered. “That is one place where the Marques will not look for you, if he takes the trouble to look anywhere!”

  She glanced at Felicita and realised how pathetic the girl looked with tears running down her pale cheeks.

  Her fingers were clasped together in an effort at self-control.

  “In England I am sure that you will find work of some sort to do,” the Duchesse went on, “and certainly people will be prepared to buy what you make.”

  “But I have – never been to – England!”

  “Then it will be quite a new experience for you,” the Duchesse replied, “and I am being exceedingly generous. I will give you your fare money for your journey and I will also pay into a Bank in London in your name the sum of five hundred pounds.”

  She paused, but Felicita did not speak and she continued,

  “With that you will not then be penniless while you are trying to find something to do or someone to look after you.”

  It was certainly generous and a large sum of money, Felicita thought.

  At the same time she was terrified.

  At least in Portugal there were people like the lodging house keeper who had been kind to her.

  Perhaps, although she had tried before, she would find some of her father’s friends who might help her.

  But England!

  “Now that that is settled,” the Duchesse said, “we must go to bed and rest. We shall not arrive in Paris until late tomorrow evening so you may as well enjoy the luxury that you do not have to pay for for as long as you can.”

  She rose to her feet as she spoke.

  Holding onto the back of the seat to support herself against the movement of the train, she added,

  “I have the satisfaction of knowing that the Marques Alvaro will lie awake tonight and I have given him a great deal to think about!”

  She left the drawing room as she spoke so she was not aware that once again Felicita had covered her face with her hands.

  She was now crying despairingly.

  She had awoken from her dream and her happiness had been shattered into a thousand pieces.

  She was alone and helpless.

  She had lost the most wonderful thing she had ever known – love.

  The agony of her thoughts seemed to seep through her and she slipped off the chair that she was sitting on to kneel on the floor.

  She cried and cried, until it felt as if her tears overflowed through her fingers and onto the floor.

  Suddenly there was a deafening explosion.

  It was so startling that for a moment her tears ceased.

  She was frozen into a kind of immobility.

  There was another crash and then yet another.

  Everything seemed to be falling around her.

  As the whole floor started shaking, she realised for one fleeting second that the carriage was turning over.

  She now knew that she was in a train crash.

  Then she felt the blow of something hard and heavy strike her on the head.

  There was darkness and she knew no more.

  Chapter Seven

  Felicita came slowly back down a long dark tunnel.

  She was lying on a cloud and she thought seriously that she must be dead.

  She vaguely remembered the noise of several explosions and a sudden violent pain in her head.

  And then nothing but darkness.

  For a long time she could not think what it could be.

  Then she was vaguely aware that she had been in a train.

  The Duchesse was taking her away from the Marques, the man she loved with all her heart and soul.

  Now the agony of losing him was back in her breast and, without really intending to, she opened her eyes.

  She found that she was in a room that she had never seen before.

  It was small, austere and plain and poorly decorated she could see at once.

  As she stared at the walls, somebody rose from a chair by the window and came to the bedside.

  “Are you awake?” a soft voice asked in Portuguese.

  “Where – am – I?”

  It was difficult to say the words.

  Felicita was not certain whether she spoke them aloud or merely that her lips moved.

  “You are quite safe and you are in hospital,” the voice replied.

  Then a gentle hand lifted her head and a cup was held to her lips.

  She swallowed what it contained and the quiet voice suggested,

  “Go to sleep. You are quite safe here with us and you will feel better when you wake up.”

  Because it was easier to obey than to think or even prevaricate, Felicita did as she was told.

  *

  When Felicita awoke again it was night and a nun was tidying her bed.

  She did not speak for some minutes and then the nun asked her,

  “Is there anything you want? Are you thirsty?”

  “I-I – think I – am.”

  The nun brought her some lemonade to drink and it made Felicita feel a little stronger so that she enquired,

  “Am I – injured from what I – think must have been a – train crash?”

  The nun, who was quite elderly, gave her a smile.

  “You were very fortunate, my child. The Good Lord has looked after you and you are uninjured.”

  “My – my – head,” Felicita managed to stammer.

  “You suffered a little concussion, but the skin was not broken and so you will soon feel yourself again. But now you must go to sleep and rest.”

  Felicita closed her eyes, but she did not sleep for a little while.

  She was saying a prayer to the Blessed Virgin to thank Her, as she knew that she ought to do for saving her in the terrible train crash.

  At the same time she was praying that the Marques would not forget her.

  *

  It was morning when Felicita next awoke.

  She was washed, her hair brushed and she was propped up against a number of pillows.

  A little later a doctor arrived. He was a middle-aged man with a kind face and he said when he looked down at her,

  “You are a very fortunate young woman,”

  “I am so grateful – that I am not – injured,” Felicita replied.

  “Or dead!” he added.

  “Were – people – killed in the – crash?”

  As she asked the question, she realised that neither the doctor nor the nun, who was with him, wished to reply.

  Instead he answered hastily,

  “Sister Benedict tells me that you have had a good night and been a very good patient. I will come and see you again tomorrow.”

  He turned to the nun.

  “She is to be kept quiet, no visitors, no talking and try to persuade her to eat something.”

  Then he was gone before Felicita had a chance to ask him anything else.

  But she was beginning to feel apprehensive.

  Supposing something had happened to the Duchesse?

  If she was very ill, or perhaps
dead, what was she to do?

  It was wrong to think of herself, but she remembered that the Duchesse had said that she was sending her to England. Once again she felt frightened and intimidated.

  She wanted to have the opportunity of pleading with the Duchesse to allow her to stay in Portugal and not go to England. And if she was ill or injured, it might prove impossible to do so.

  Sister Benedict came back into the room and Felicita quizzed her,

  “Please – Sister, I want to know – exactly what has – happened.”

  “You heard what the doctor said,” the nun replied, “and you know that I have to obey his orders.”

  She saw the disappointment in Felicita’s eyes and added kindly,

  “Be grateful that God has protected you, my child, and that your face is not scarred.”

  As if she felt that Felicita was still worrying, she added,

  “One of the nuns said that, when you were asleep, you looked just like an angel from Heaven.”

  Then she lowered the blind to keep out the sunshine and went from the room.

  Felicita tried to pray.

  All she could think of was that she was alone and afraid.

  Without really meaning to, she found herself begging the Marques in her heart to help her.

  ‘You loved me – I know that you loved – me a – little,’ she said as if to convince herself, ‘and now I – need you to look after me – to help me and tell – me what to do.’

  She gave a little sob before she continued,

  ‘I will not be a – nuisance I promise you. I will not impose upon you – but there is – no one else who will understand how – helpless I feel.’

  It suddenly struck her that if she was in a hospital in a room to herself, she would have to pay for it.

  How could she make the nuns understand that she had no money?

  Although she was sure that they would be kind and charitable, they would think it very strange as they would know that she had been travelling to Paris in a private train and was richly dressed.

  ‘I must – find out – about the Duchesse,’ she thought, ‘and when she is – well enough – I must see – her and talk to her.’

  She had heard the hard note in the Duchesse’s voice when she had told her that she had to go to England.

  She knew that it would be very embarrassing to make other demands when she had been so generous.

  She told herself that she should be very grateful for the food that she had eaten with the Duchesse and for the clothes she had given her.

  Even though she had been deceitful, she had met the Marques.

  At the thought of him, tears came into her eyes.

  But instead of crying she pretended that he had his arms around her so that she was no longer afraid.

  “I – love you – I love – you!” she whispered into her pillow and then fell fast asleep.

  *

  Felicita must have slept for several hours.

  Then, when she was still dreaming, the door opened and she heard Sister Benedict say in a whisper,

  “She is asleep and you must not waken her.”

  “No, of course not,” a man’s voice answered.

  Suddenly realising who it was, Felicita opened her eyes as rapidly as she could.

  It was the Marques who stood there with his eyes on her, looking just as she had been dreaming of him.

  She gave a cry of joy.

  He moved swiftly across the room and she held out her arms.

  “You are awake,” he exclaimed. “Are you in any pain?”

  There was so much anxiety in his voice that she felt her heart turn over in her breast, not only because he was there but because he cared.

  “I-I am all – right and – I was dreaming.”

  Sister Benedict closed the door behind her and the Marques sat down on the side of the bed as he had sat on the couch in the Saloon of the yacht.

  “They would not let me see you yesterday or the day before,” he related, “but I pleaded with the doctor and he allowed me to come in this afternoon.”

  “Y-you have – been here – all that time?” Felicita murmured.

  She was trying to understand what was happening.

  “When I heard of the crash,” the Marques then told her, “I thought I would go mad! The only information in the papers was that several people had been killed or mortally injured.”

  “The – Duchesse?” Felicita questioned.

  The Marques hesitated, but the pressure of his hands on hers increased as he said very quietly,

  “The Duchesse was killed.”

  “How – terrible.”

  “It was only by a miracle that you were saved.”

  “A – miracle?”

  “In some strange way one of the armchairs in the carriage fell on top of you. They did not find you for a long time, but the chair protected you when the train fell down the bank. The roof caved in, killing almost everybody except yourself as you were protected.”

  Felicita clung to him as if he was a lifeline to prevent her from drowning.

  “So – I was – saved!”

  “For which I have thanked God a million times since I arrived here at the hospital.”

  “Y-you – you came – to see me?”

  “I came to tell you that I love you.”

  She stared at him as if she had not heard him aright.

  Then it was as if a thousand candles had been lit inside her eyes.

  “Y-you – love me?”

  “You know I love you! How dare you doubt my love and go away in that cruel heartless fashion?”

  “I – did not know what was – happening – I had no idea – there was a – train waiting to take – us to Paris.”

  “We need not talk about that now,” the Marques said. “All I want to do is to tell you that I love you and to make sure that you still love me.”

  “I – love you, I do – love you!” Felicita replied. “But – I thought you would be – angry because I had – deceived you.”

  “All I can think of at the moment is that you are alive. When I thought you were dead, I knew that I had lost the only thing that matters to me in the whole world!”

  “It – cannot be – true what you are – saying,” Felicita whispered.

  Her voice broke as tears filled her eyes.

  The Marques lifted her head and kissed it.

  “This is too much for you,” he suggested, “we will talk about it another time when you are feeling stronger.”

  She then thought that he was about to leave her and so she clung onto him.

  “Stay – with me – please stay with me,” she begged. “I have been – praying – you would understand – and know how frightened I am.”

  “There is nothing to frighten you,” the Marques said, “and you must get well quickly so that we can be married.”

  Felicita was very still.

  Her eyes sought his as if she was not certain that she had heard clearly what he said.

  “M-married?” she stammered.

  “That is what we were planning to do when you ran away.”

  “B-but – but the Duchesse – told you – what I was.”

  The Marques smiled.

  “To me you are everything in my life that I have longed for, looked for and was quite convinced did not exist in this life.”

  “But she said – you could – never marry me as your – father would not marry her.”

  “I am not concerned with my father or the Duchesse,” the Marques said. “You are mine, and we are going to be married as soon as you are well enough to leave here and come back to The Palace with me.”

  “I-I don’t – believe it!”

  Now the tears ran down her cheeks.

  “If you cry, my precious,” the Marques observed, “they will send me away and be very angry with me.”

  The way he spoke made her give a little choked laugh.

  He took his fine lawn handkerchief from his pocket and wipe
d away her eyes.

  Then he kissed her cheeks, first one and then the other very very gently.

  It was as if he was touching a beautiful flower reverently.

  And then he kissed her lips.

  To Felicita, it was as if the Heavens themselves had opened.

  She was swept from a despond of misery and fear into a blinding light, which came from the Marques.

  She knew at once that it was the Light of Love.

  “I – love you – I love – you!” she whispered to him.

  Then, as he was looking down at her as if he had never seen her before, she managed to say,

  “B-but you – must not – marry me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because – you might be – ashamed of me and I would – lose you – then I would – want to die – as the Duchesse – tried to do.”

  “You are not to talk like that, my darling” the Marques stipulated firmly. “I have found out about this extraordinary story and I just cannot believe it is not something straight out of a novel.”

  “You – know about – it?”

  “A great deal more than the Duchesse told us the other night.”

  “Then, tell me – please – tell me,” Felicita pleaded with him.

  “You don’t know what happened?”

  “I knew – nothing.”

  She paused.

  She could not look at the Marques as she went on in a low voice that he could hardly hear,

  “It was – true that I met her in the The Grand Hotel – when I was trying to sell the – needlework I had – learnt to do at the Convent – where I was educated by the nuns.”

  He did not speak and after a moment she went on,

  “As she said – I was a – pedlar.”

  “That is something you will never be again,” the Marques asserted.

  He bent forward to kiss her forehead.

  “It sounds so – horrible and – humiliating,” Felicita faltered, “but – I had no money – after Mama – died and I thought I would– die of – starvation.”

  “I saw how thin you were when I first met you,” the Marques remarked, “but how could I have guessed when you were introduced as the niece of the Duchesse, who is a very rich woman, that you had been without food?”

  “The Duchesse – was very – kind to – me,” Felicita replied, “and when she said that she wanted me to – pretend to be her niece – I had no idea why.”