She could hear the Marquis saying that a good laugh hurt nobody and yet it was her cartoon that had precipitated this drama and caused the Duke to ask for her hand in marriage!
Her cartoon!
She had drawn it two days after the Duke had looked so bored when he danced with her at Almack’s and after she had seen him enter the house later and thought he was a burglar!
She had disliked him and wanted to portray him at his most arrogant and autocratic!
She would not have cared if it hurt him, but she had never wished to hurt her Godmother or cause her a moment’s unhappiness.
The Countess had been most kind and generous to her and she owed her a debt of gratitude.
Now the only way she could repay that debt was to marry the Duke!
‘How can I – marry him? How – can I?’ she asked herself.
She was sure that not only had the Duke spoken the truth but also that the Earl’s threats were seriously intended.
She had not stayed for over a month at Sheldon House without realising that her Godmother was in fact very frightened of the Earl. The servants too spoke of him with an awe that invested him with an ominous presence, even when he was not there.
Although Anthea had heard a great many remarks about her Godmother, some of them disparaging, no one had ever spoken of the Earl except with respect, sometimes grudgingly, but nevertheless respectfully.
“If you will do this for your Godmother,” the Duke said from behind her. “I assure you that not only will she be extremely grateful, but so will I,’
“But how– could we be – married in such – circumstances?” Anthea asked.
“I see no difficulty about it,” the Duke answered.
There was a challenging note in his voice.
Anthea realised, without his putting it into words, that anyone to whom he proposed marriage would be expected to accept eagerly and gratefully so distinguished a suitor.
It was only, she thought, because she had inadvertently learnt of the more intimate details of the Duke’s love life that she must look on him in a different way than any other girl would do.
It flashed through her mind that if in fact she had found in London the husband she was seeking, there would almost certainly be a skeleton in his cupboard of which she would have no knowledge.
And yet she could remember all too vividly what she had felt when she had seen the Duke going up to her Godmother’s bedroom.
She could still hear the amused contempt in his voice when he had told her not to interfere in other people’s affairs!
At the same time she had no one to thank for the predicament she was now in except herself.
‘How could I have been so foolish,’ she asked herself frantically, ‘as to include that particular cartoon with the others?’
She had in fact forgotten all about it.
‘It was madness to have sold a cartoon which included Cousin Delphine,’ she told herself now. ‘Madness and at the same time unkind!’
Anthea had never been anything but kind – that was characteristic of her nature. She was always deeply touched by suffering or unhappiness.
She could be moved to tears by a tale of cruelty or privation and she would listen with sympathy and patience to the grumbles and complaints of the villagers and would go to endless trouble to help them.
Yet without intending to, merely because she was bemused by the large sum of money that had been offered her, she had hurt the Countess.
‘It was a malicious drawing in the first place,’ she thought miserably. ‘But it is too late now for recriminations.’
“I cannot believe that you are so heartless as to refuse to help your Godmother,” the Duke remarked almost beguilingly.
Anthea found it impossible to reply and after a moment he added,
“Perhaps you are waiting for me to go down on one knee in the conventional fashion?”
Now there was a note of mockery in his voice and Anthea turned round to say sharply,
“There is no need for play-acting, Your Grace. You have been – frank with me and I will be equally frank with – you. I have – no wish to – marry you, but in the – circumstances you make it – impossible for me to – refuse.”
“I thought you would see sense,” the Duke sighed, “and I assure you, Miss Forthingdale, I will do my best to make you happy.”
“Thank – you.”
Anthea thought as she spoke and her eyes met the Duke’s, that they seemed to be challenging each other to a duel in which both were determined to be the victor.
“You will wish to be alone when you break the news to your mother,” the Duke said after a moment. “So I hope she will be gracious enough to receive me tomorrow afternoon when we can talk over the details of the wedding.”
“That would be – best,” Anthea conceded.
“Then I will continue on my journey, but I would like to thank you in all sincerity for agreeing to my proposition.”
Anthea inclined her head a little and he went on,
“I can assure you that your Godmother will be as grateful as I am. You have saved us both from something that would inevitably bring a lot of unhappiness and unpleasantness to a number of people.”
Anthea knew he was speaking of his family.
She realised that he must have a great number of relations, all of whom she was certain would be absolutely astounded when they learnt who he was about to marry.
There seemed to be nothing more to say and for the first time Anthea was conscious of the white apron that covered her gown and that in their small house the Duke looked very large and overpowering.
As they were walking towards the hall, the Duke noticed the portrait of Sir Walcott that stood over the mantelpiece.
“Is that your father?”
“Yes,” Anthea replied.
“I see he was in the Scots Greys.”
“Yes.”
“I understand from your Godmother that he is dead. Was he perhaps killed at Waterloo?”
“Yes.”
“I saw the charge. It was magnificent! There has never been anything like it in the annals of British history.”
“You were at Waterloo?”
“I was,” the Duke replied. “We must talk about it sometime. I would like to learn more about your father.”
Anthea knew he was trying to be pleasant, but she felt as if she was frozen inside.
She pulled open the front door before he could reach it and drew a deep breath of fresh air.
The Duke’s cavalcade and the livery of his servants made a vivid patch of colour and the whole entourage seemed even more incongruous than it had on its arrival.
It had nothing in common, Anthea thought, with the overgrown, unkempt drive and the shabby exterior of the house, any more than she had anything in common with the tall, handsome, elegant man who stood beside her.
“I shall see you tomorrow,” the Duke said.
She held out her hand and he raised it to his lips.
“Let me say once again how very grateful I am,” he added in a low voice.
She did not answer.
He walked towards his phaeton, swung himself up onto the high seat, took the reins from his groom and turned his horses with an expertise that Anthea knew ranked him a Corinthian.
Then, as he raised his high hat and his servants imitated him by raising theirs, the procession of carriages and horses swept back down the drive under the low branches of the oak trees and disappeared into the distance.
Anthea stood looking after them.
Then she closed the door and put her hands up to her face.
It could not be true!
She must have dreamt the whole thing! How could she have known, how could she have guessed, that one cartoon, just one, should cause so much trouble and involve her in such a fantastic tangle?
Then, as if galvanized by the horror of it, she ran to the schoolroom to pick up the envelope lying on the table and tore it into a dozen small pieces.<
br />
‘How could I have been so crazy, so naive, so unimaginative?’ she asked herself, ‘as to think that I could caricature the people I met and not expect repercussions?’
She could see now how mischievous her drawing had been, although she had done it merely to amuse her sisters. As they had never seen her Godmother, she had known they would have no idea who the ginger cat might be.
It had merely amused her and balanced the picture to put the Countess in it.
When she had been sketching, she had never for one moment expected the cartoons to be seen by anyone except Thais, Chloe and Phebe. So she had exaggerated the characteristics of everyone she had drawn.
Now she was sure that they must inevitably give offence.
There was one of Lord Alvanley, she remembered, with his cold apricot tarts and bedside candles being extinguished under the bolster, which was very amusing. But he might not think so!
There was an even more provocative one of Colonel Dan McKinnon counting his locks of female hair and saying to his batman,
“I really must look around for an albino, otherwise my collection is not complete!”
She had depicted him in the guise of a Sultan with the concubines he had discarded and on whom he had turned his back weeping bitterly.
‘I should not have done it,’ Anthea thought. ‘I should never have sold anything so intimate, so unkind.’
She wondered wildly whether she should rush to London to try to persuade Mrs. Humphrey to sell her back the cartoons that had not yet been published.
Then she told herself that, while Mrs. Humphrey had seemed very pleasant, she was undoubtedly a businesswoman.
Having sold her drawings outright Anthea was quite certain that she would not now relinquish them and she could only pray that none of the nine remaining cartoons would cause as much trouble as the first.
‘No one must ever know that I drew them,’ she thought.
She felt herself trembling at the thought of how angry the Duke would be if he ever discovered that instead of being grateful to her he should in fact be cursing her for having involved them all in this frightening situation.
‘The only thing I can do,’ Anthea mused miserably, ‘is to try to put things right by saving Godmama and the Duke from the Earl.’
At the same time, she thought, she would rather marry anyone – any man in the world – other than the Duke.
She believed that he would, as he had promised, try to make her happy.
But how could she be happy, knowing that he not only loved her Godmother, but also that she had been instrumental in revealing their affection to the one person who should not have known of it – the Earl.
Anthea felt as if her head was whirling and it was impossible to think clearly.
She only knew that the future seemed terrifying and full of quick sands.
‘Supposing he ever discovers the truth?’ she asked herself.
She was sure that if her Godmother was afraid of the Earl, she was likely to be far more frightened of the Duke.
‘He is a very frightening person,’ she thought.
She remembered his arrogance and unconcealed boredom when he had been forced to dance with her at Almack’s.
‘How can I bear a lifetime of that?’ she asked.
As she did so, she heard voices in the hall and knew that Chloe and Phebe had returned.
CHAPTER FIVE
Anthea stared at herself in the mirror and realised that she had never before looked so attractive – in fact almost beautiful.
She could indeed hardly believe it was her own reflection that she was seeing.
The exquisite and extremely elaborate wedding gown, which her Godmother had sent her from London, was undoubtedly every woman’s ideal gown for the most important moment in her life.
On her head Anthea wore a lace veil that had been in the Duke’s family for generations and surmounting it a diamond tiara fashioned in the shape of a wreath of flowers that glittered and quivered with every movement she made.
“I did not believe anything could be so lovely!” Thais had said in an awed voice before she left for the Church with her mother and the other girls.
In fact the whole family, it seemed to Anthea, had been breathless with excitement ever since she had told them in an embarrassed manner that she was to marry the Duke.
After she had announced it on her mother’s return from Doncaster, for a moment they had stared at her speechless.
Then there had been a babble of excitement, which made it difficult for Anthea to make herself heard.
“The Duke of Axminster!”
“But you hardly mentioned him in your letters!”
“Why did you not tell us about him?”
“How could you have been so secretive?”
The Duke’s letter to Lady Forthingdale had in fact arrived the next day, but by that time the Duke had met Anthea’s family.
She had expected them to hate him as she told herself she did, but to her astonishment he charmed them all.
“He is so handsome and exactly what a Duke should be!” Chloe cried.
Thais was beguiled into thinking him more romantic than any hero she had ever read about in a novel.
“He said such kind and complimentary things about Papa,” Lady Forthingdale said later with a little throb in her voice, “and I know, Anthea, that he is just the husband Papa would have chosen for you had he been alive.”
It was hard at times for Anthea not to cry out that she was acting a lie, that the Duke did not care for her – and that if she had a choice she would not marry him.
But because she felt so guilty and because she was so afraid he might discover her treachery, she forced herself to act the part expected of her.
The Duke had not only made himself extremely pleasant to her mother and to the girls, but he had also proved unexpectedly considerate.
Because he realised they had no servants, when he came to a meal he brought with him delicacies that required no cooking and insisted that his servants should wait at table.
For the first time Thais, Chloe and Phebe ate pâté de foie gras, boar’s head, succulent hams and game cooked in a manner that bore no resemblance to the plain boiling and roasting which had been the limit of Nanny’s repertoire.
Exotic fruits from Lord Doncaster’s greenhouses were also produced and there were chocolates and bon-bons that were so expensive to buy that none of the girls had ever been given them before.
Besides all this, the Duke, having discovered that his future mother-in-law was interested in poetry, brought her leather-bound volumes from the most expensive bookshop in Doncaster, which was a sure way to win her heart.
‘He is bribing the family!’ Anthea told herself scornfully. ‘Just as my Godmother bribed me when she realised I knew her guilty secret!’
Although it made her try to disparage everything the Duke brought with him to the house, she could not help realising that there was really no need for him to put himself out as she had already agreed to do as he wished.
As it was, she found it hard to remain coldly aloof from the adulation that the Duke evoked in her sisters.
“He is wonderful! So kind, so understanding!” Thais would say.
“He remembers that I like sugared almonds,” Phebe crowed. “I hope I find a husband as nice as him when I grow up.”
It was Chloe, however, who was thrown into a state of stupefaction when the Duke said he would give her a horse to ride to hounds and would also provide and pay for a groom to look after it.
Overcome at achieving her greatest ambition, Chloe had thrown her arms round the Duke’s neck and kissed him.
“Thank you! Thank you!” she cried. “It is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me!”
Anthea thought that the Duke for a moment stiffened with surprise at Chloe’s demonstrativeness.
Then he asked,
“If you are so grateful when you are given one hunter, what will you do when you receive
a diamond necklace?”
“Who wants a necklace?” Chloe commented scornfully. “I would much rather have a string of horses!”
The Duke laughed.
“I expect you will change your mind when you get older. All women like diamonds.”
Because of what he had said to Chloe, Anthea had expected him to give her a diamond engagement ring, doubtless one that already was part of the Axminster collection.
But instead he gave her a ring that showed that he had at least considered her as an individual.
After he and Anthea had announced their engagement and a notice of it had been sent to The London Gazette, the Duke returned to London.
Although she was glad to see him go, Anthea found the curiosity of the neighbourhood hard to bear alone.
It was extraordinary, she reflected cynically, how many people claimed her acquaintance now that she was to marry a Duke.
People she had no idea even existed called on Lady Forthingdale and invitations to balls and parties from every part of Yorkshire arrived every day.
“How kind people are!” Lady Forthingdale exclaimed.
“Kind?” Anthea replied incredulously. “They are not kind, Mama, they are only sucking up to us now because I am to marry a Duke! They paid no attention to us in the past.”
“I expect they thought that we were still in mourning for your dear father,” Lady Forthingdale replied.
“You would make excuses for the devil himself, Mama!” Anthea said. “Personally I would like to throw all their invitations in the fire and not bother to answer any of them!”
“I think that would be very rude, dearest, and, even if you and His Grace do not wish to accept such hospitality, it would be nice for Thais, and later Chloe, to be included on their visiting lists.”
“They will be included in the future,” Anthea prophesied in a hard voice.
At the same time it was difficult to be cynical when everyone was so anxious to be friendly and the wedding presents began to arrive.
“Who are the Leightons, Mama?” Anthea asked, as she opened a parcel containing a most magnificent pair of candelabra.
“I cannot recall their name for the moment,” Lady Forthingdale replied. “Perhaps they are friends of the Duke’s?”
Never Laugh at Love Page 9