A Change of Hearts

by Barbara Cartland

  She put on the very pretty dressing gown Carol had bought her – it was the colour of her eyes and trimmed with real Valenciennes lace – and there was a pair of dainty blue slippers to go with it.

  Neisa stood thinking about what she should do.

  If she went out through the door into the passage, she might be seen by someone who would think it odd – or worse still, she could run into Randolph coming from his room to hers.

  ‘I could not bear that,’ she decided.

  She crossed the room to the window.

  It was long and low like all the windows built by the Adam brothers and when the balconies were added, the windows had not been altered.

  It was very possible to step onto the balcony by just raising the window as far as it would go and one only had to stoop a little to climb out.

  Neisa did just that.

  Then she found, as she had expected, the balconies did not fully link with each other.

  Any other girl would have been terrified at the idea of leaping from one balcony to another – there was a drop of over forty feet between them.

  But Neisa had climbed up parts of the Himalayas and mountains in Turkey with her father and mother without damaging herself.

  Therefore she found no difficulty in jumping across to the next balcony.

  Actually there was no one sleeping in the next room and the curtains were drawn.

  She hoped there was no one outside in the garden below to see her.

  She jumped again and passed another room and as she reached the third room, she heard voices from inside.

  She stiffened.

  It was with great difficulty that she forced back a loud exclamation as she realised that the man speaking was Randolph Holme!

  She would have recognised that rather unpleasant, smarmy voice anywhere.

  Then to her sheer astonishment, she realised that he was speaking in Arabic.

  “Now do exactly as I tell you,” he was saying. “Go now while it is still dark and fasten the wire onto the fence. Don’t forget it is the fifth one we jump after having left the starting-post. I am sure there will be no one about at this time of night.”

  “I’ll do so, Master,” the other man replied again in Arabic.

  “Be certain you can easily pull the wire taut and be careful not to do so until the Marquis’s horse has actually taken off for the jump.”

  There was a pause.

  It was as if Randolph wanted to make sure that the man had fully understood all his instructions.

  “As I have told you already, as soon as the horse falls and the Marquis is thrown onto the ground beside it, push the little pill I have given you into his mouth before anyone can see what you are doing. He will be dead in just a few seconds.”

  The stark note of triumph in Randolph’s voice was unmistakable.

  Neisa drew in her breath.

  “Now do you understand?” he finished.

  “I understand Master. I’ll carry out my Master’s orders and nothing will go wrong.”

  “That is just what I hope and trust. And, when his Lordship is dead, you will have the money I promised you. It will be doubled when I marry the rich young woman I am going to visit now.”

  “I understand, Master, and I obey your commands.”

  From the way he spoke Neisa was sure that the man was a Berber and was now bowing to Randolph.

  She then realised with a horror that seemed to pulse throughout her whole body what Randolph was plotting – it was ‘the accidental death’ of his cousin, the Marquis, so that he would inherit the title.

  And he would obtain all the money he needed from her, because he intended to seduce her.

  It all flashed through her mind like lightning.

  Only her self-control prevented her from crying out in terror.

  She had to find help at once.

  She must save the Marquis from certain death when the wire pulled up on the fence, causing Champion to fall.

  It was a dastardly plot.

  A plot that only a man as despicable as Randolph could plan.

  Turning round, Neisa started to retrace her steps.

  Moving from balcony to balcony, she reached her own room and then she paused outside the window.

  She knew that it would be a mistake to go into the passage.

  She must reach the Marquis by the balconies.

  Quickly she jumped onto the balcony next to hers in the other direction.

  She could only pray that when she did manage to find the Marquis, he would believe her.

  He might think she was inventing an incredible tale, which had no foundation in fact.

  The next two balconies were easy.

  Then, as she leapt onto the last balcony on the main building, she knew it led to the Marquis’s room.

  It was a different shape to the others – longer and a little wider.

  She was afraid that the Marquis might not have opened his window and if she knocked on the glass to attract his attention, someone else might hear her.

  It was only that she was terrified as she had never been terrified in her life.

  If Randolph did force an entry into her room and found she was not in bed, he might then look for her on the balcony.

  She had left her window wide open at the bottom. If she had just wanted some cool air, she would most likely have opened it at the top.

  All these imaginings passed through her mind.

  Her heart was beating furiously.

  She was petrified that something would prevent her from reaching the Marquis in time to warn him.

  Then tomorrow morning he would ride to his death at the fifth jump in the steeplechase.

  She clambered panting onto his balcony and caught the lace of her dressing gown on one of the elaborate stone flowers with which the balcony was ornamented.

  She released herself by tearing it a little, thinking it was a pity to spoil anything so pretty, something she would never have again.

  Then she looked at the window and saw with relief it was wide open at the bottom.

  She did not hesitate.

  She felt just as if Randolph was running after her to prevent her from spoiling his infamous plan being put into action.

  Without thinking further, she scrambled through the open window and stumbled noisily onto the floor.

  As she raised herself to her feet, she could see the Marquis staring at her in sheer astonishment.

  He was lying in a magnificent gold four-poster bed draped with crimson velvet curtains.

  As Neisa now straightened herself, he exclaimed in a horrified voice,

  “Miss Waverton, whatever are you doing here?”

  Neisa walked towards his bed.

  “I have – come here to – warn you,” she mumbled and her voice was somewhat unsteady, “that both you and – Champion are in – d-deadly d-danger.”

  The Marquis stared at her.

  “Danger! What do you mean?”

  There was a distinctly sharp note in his voice and it made Neisa feel as if she had been caught doing something wrong.

  She put out her hands as if to hold onto something and felt herself sway.

  Her eyes flickered and then she closed them.

  The Marquis thought she was about to faint and suggested thoughtfully,

  “There is a chair just behind you. Do sit down.”

  Neisa obeyed him.

  Then she lifted her hands to rest them for a moment over her eyes – she was trying to make herself concentrate on what she must do.

  “Now please tell me,” the Marquis resumed in a calm voice, “what has upset you and why you have come here to me.”

  “There is a plot to make – Champion fall and when you are thrown – you will be given – a p-poisonous drug.”

  The words came out jerkily from between her lips.

  She was aware that the Marquis was looking at her as if he did not believe her. He clearly thought that she was either imagining what she was saying or perhaps p
laying some trick on him.

  Then he saw how pale she was, the frightened look in her eyes and the trembling of her hands.

  Very quietly he soothed her,

  “There is no hurry. You are quite safe now, so tell me everything from the very beginning.”

  “That is – just what I want to do and I am sorry – to seem so stupid – it was just such a s-shock.”

  “What was a shock?”

  “Overhearing Mr. Randolph Holme – planning it all with a man who I think is – a Berber.”

  The Marquis made a little movement with his hand before he asked,

  “Were they speaking in English?”

  “No – in Arabic.”

  “You speak Arabic?”

  The Marquis’s voice sounded incredulous.

  Neisa thought he must now be quite certain she was inventing the whole tale – perhaps to attract his attention or because she was a little mad.

  “Yes, I – can speak Arabic and, as I have been to North Africa, I am – certain the m-man was – a Berber.”

  “I have already seen the man in question,” said the Marquis, “and I learnt from members of my staff that he did not speak any other language except his own.”

  “Mr. Holme was telling him exactly what he should – do.”

  “And I suppose you were outside the window?”

  Neisa nodded.

  “I was going – to my cousin’s b-bedroom along the balconies, since I did not – want to go down the corridor.”

  “Why not?”

  The question was almost like a pistol shot.

  For a moment Neisa could not answer it.

  Then, as she realised that the Marquis was waiting, she stuttered hesitatingly,

  “Mr. Randolph Holme said something strange to me downstairs and I was afraid – d-desperately afraid he might come to my room.”

  “Why did you not lock your door?”

  “I did,” answered Neisa, “but the latch – seemed a little frail and I – thought he might try to force it – open.”

  She thought as she spoke how much the Marquis must despise her for being so inadequate and pathetic.

  But there was nothing she could do, but to tell him the whole truth.

  “So you thought you would go to your cousin along the balconies, and you were not scared of climbing from one balcony to another at such a height?”

  “I have climbed mountains – and worse – places.”

  Her voice died away and the Marquis asked,

  “Then you heard what was being said through the open window?”

  Neisa nodded.

  “Now tell me exactly what Randolph was saying.”

  “He – said that the Berber was to go now and – fix a wire on jump number five – and when you approached it tomorrow – he was to wait until – Champion had actually taken off for the jump, before he pulled it up – tight.”

  Her voice deepened as she went on,

  “Champion would fall – and you would be thrown and doubtless – be unconscious. Then he was – to push a poisoned pill into your mouth before anyone else appeared and you would be dead – in a few seconds.”

  There was a silence until the Marquis asked her,

  “So you realised, after you had overheard this conversation, that you must come to me at once?”

  “I – had to save you and Champion! How could I allow anything so horrible and wicked to happen and – not try and prevent it?”

  She looked up at the Marquis almost as if she was willing him to answer her.

  He said quietly and deliberately,

  “It was very brave and resourceful of you. Now, I want you to go back to bed. Say nothing to anyone and try to sleep.”

  Neisa clasped her fingers together.

  “You have to prevent it happening? You must stop the Berber! He will be on his way now to fix the wire on the fence!”

  The Marquis shook his head.

  “You must be intelligent enough to understand that I have to catch them red-handed. If I accuse them of what you have just told me, they will merely say you are hysterical and then they will strike another time when I have no idea what they intend to do.”

  “Oh – no! They cannot do that!” cried Neisa.

  “Then you must do as I say. Go to bed at once and I will take you to a room where you can sleep without fear and by a less dangerous route than the balconies!”

  He climbed out of his four-poster bed and picked up a long dark robe that was lying over a chair.

  He was only wearing a silk nightshirt, but it completely covered him.

  Neisa looked away shyly, the blood rising into her pale cheeks.

  As the Marquis put on his robe, he looked at her and smiled.

  “Now I am decent, so don’t feel embarrassed!”

  He picked up a candle and walked across the room to where there was a door by the window.

  As Neisa joined him, she could see that there was a room adjacent to his bedroom, quite obviously his private boudoir.

  They walked across the boudoir without speaking.

  Then the Marquis opened another door cleverly concealed by layers of bookshelves.

  As the door swung back, she saw from the light of the candle in his hand that they were in a bedroom that was equally as magnificent as the one she had been allocated.

  It passed through her mind that this was doubtless the room used by the Marchioness of Denholme whenever there was one.

  “This is your bedroom tonight,” he explained, “and the room beyond it is your boudoir, though I expect you will not want to explore it now. When you do, I think you will find several books that will interest you, because they are written about this house and my ancestors.”

  “I should enjoy reading them.”

  She thought he smiled at her as he was lighting the candles by the bed.

  Then the Marquis pulled back the satin covers and she saw that the bed was made up.

  “You will be safe here, but I will leave the two doors between us open in case you are frightened.

  “Thank you more than I can possibly say for being brave enough to come straight to me tonight and clever enough to understand what was being planned. There is no one else in this party who could have done that.”

  “And you will be careful – ” Neisa urged him.

  “Very careful, I promise you, and I know you are worrying about Champion.”

  “He is so magnificent, I could not bear anything to happen to him.”

  There was a faint twinkle in the Marquis’s eyes – he thought that any other woman would be worrying about him first.

  “Thank you again, Miss Waverton.”

  Because it seemed quite natural, he bent his head and kissed her gently on the lips.

  She gave a little gasp.

  Then, before she could realise what was happening, the Marquis disappeared through the communicating door.

  She was left alone in the bedroom.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Marquis rose as soon as dawn broke and dressed himself quickly.

  Having been in the Army at one time, he was used to doing things for himself at a speed that most people could never achieve.

  He ran downstairs and let himself out of the house by one of the back doors.

  It was too early for there to be any servants in the passages and no one was to be seen in the garden.

  The sun was just rising.

  When it touched the flowers and the blossom on the trees, everything turned beautiful and enchanted.

  It seemed quite unbelievable. The Marquis could hardly credit it that any of his relations would actually plan to kill him and behave in such an appalling manner.

  But Randolph had always been tricky and quite different from the rest of the family.

  His own father had often laughingly called him ‘a changeling’.

  Now, if what Miss Waverton heard last night was indeed the truth, the Marquis was inclined to believe it.

  How could anyon
e behave in such a manner? Especially someone who bore his name and that of his ancestors who had upheld the pride and dignity of England for centuries?

  He had paid Randolph’s bills over and over again.

  Every time he wrote out yet another cheque he had talked to him quietly and seriously, explaining that, as Head of the Holme family, he had a great number of relations to look after.

  “You are not the only one, Randolph,” he had said, “and if I give you more than your fair share, it means that someone else will go empty-handed.”

  He had known by the expression on his cousin’s face that that aspect did not trouble him in the slightest.

  Randolph had always been very selfish, greedy and jealous of him.

  ‘Now,’ the Marquis told himself, ‘he has gone too far. I will have to find some way of controlling Randolph in the future – for this must never happen again.’

  He walked on.

  His thoughts were all concentrated on the dastardly plot that had been planned against him.

  It was impossible for him to enjoy the beauty of the morning or listen to the song of the birds.

  The steeplechase had always been one of his most favourite interests since he had first introduced the race.

  It was a strictly private affair – only his guests and one or two of his close friends in the neighbourhood would be asked to compete.

  But he did not exclude people from nearby villages coming to watch, as he knew it thrilled them.

  Just as it thrilled him to watch how well the horses could jump and how experienced their riders were.

  He thought, because he had Champion to ride, that this steeplechase would be the best he had ever arranged.

  He had been looking forward to it so eagerly and he still could not believe that it might be his last.

  If it had not been for one of his guests, both he and Champion could have died at the fifth jump.

  He thought again how incredibly brave it had been of the Waverton heiress and how she had come to him by climbing from balcony to balcony.

  Although he rather doubted her story that Randolph would break into her room, he had to admire her courage in finding such an ingenious route when she needed to join her cousin.

  It seemed strange that unlike other women he had known, she was not frightened of heights.