An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition

by Cartland, Barbara

  She found herself visualising him very clearly. How good looking he was, how strangely different from all the other men she had ever known! He was older, of course. She guessed him to be about twenty-six or twenty-seven, but even so there was more personality in his little finger than in the whole of Lord Glosford’s long, languid body.

  Brecon! It was an attractive name, but Caroline wondered what his intimates called him.

  She fell asleep about half an hour before they reached the first posting inn, and then awoke with a start because she had been dreaming. While the horses were being changed, she went into the inn to wash her hands and beholding her reflection in a mirror was horrified at her appearance.

  No wonder Lord Breton had easily believed her story of being a paid companion. Her once impressive dress of rich velvet was stained, dusty and torn beyond repair. The lace at her neck had become tattered where she had forced her way through the branches of the wood and her hands were literally filthy from climbing from the window and touching the green bark of the trees.

  It took Caroline some time to wash and tidy herself, but even so she delayed the post-chaise a few more minutes while she wrote a note to Mrs. Edgmont and asked that it should be sent to Vulcan House in Grosvenor Square by post. She received the landlady’s assurance that it should go first thing in the morning. Caroline was not quite certain, however, that this would be done, for they were all tired in the inn and had been asleep when the groom of her post-chaise had awakened them. But the sight of a guinea, which luckily she had with her in her purse, was enough to redouble their assurance with a ring of sincerity which had been lacking before. When Caroline rejoined her chaise and started once again on her journey, she was sure that Cousin Debby would not be long without news of her movements.

  The rest of the journey to Dover was uneventful. Caroline slept easily and peacefully, the sleep of a tired child. She was so glad to be on her way home, so sure of her welcome and her parents’ ability to smooth away all her difficulties that even her twinges of conscience over her original acceptance of Sir Montagu’s invitation did not keep her awake. Caroline had not yet learnt to worry.

  Her life to date had been a very pleasant one. To begin with she had been born and brought up at Mandrake, one of the loveliest houses in the country and by far the most magnificent. The foundations of Mandrake had been laid by Sir Justin de Faye who had come to England with William of Normandy, and every succeeding generation of Fayes had built on to and enriched the house until the great roofs now covered a vast treasure store of incalculable value and interest. And as Mandrake had grown during the centuries, so had the family who owned it acquired wealth and honours, titles and distinctions.

  No wonder the 15th Marquis of Vulcan was proud of his heritage, no wonder he loved every inch of Mandrake, from the ancient Norman Keep which still stood sentinel on the furthest point of the white cliffs, to the exquisite ballrooms and salons added but forty years ago by his mother to the design of Robert Adam.

  The 14th Marchioness, Caroline’s grandmother, had been banished from Court because of her insatiable passion for gaming. She had created a Court of her own at Mandrake and reigned there supreme until she had been stoned to death by the smugglers whom she employed to sally forth from the secret caves below the house to procure for her illicit goods from France.

  With her death, a raffish, extravagant and exotic era came to an end, and for Caroline Mandrake meant peace, a quiet beauty and an atmosphere of unbroken joy. Her father and mother had such an overwhelming love for each other that the whole place was enchanted, and everyone who lived at Mandrake with them seemed to reflect some of their radiant happiness.

  But in Caroline’s veins ran the proud, turbulent, courageous blood of the Fayes. Each of her features, every movement she made, every action she performed was as much the accumulation of centuries as were the grandeur and dignity of Mandrake itself. She had inherited the pride, the loyalty and the integrity, of her ancestors, but also their deep passions, their determination and strong-willed obstinacy. Much of her grandmother’s beauty was hers too - a beauty which was already a legend of the eighteenth century. Yet while that flawless perfection of line and grace was born again in Caroline, it was combined with something of her mother’s loveliness. Serena, Marchioness of Vulcan’s purity and sweetness of heart shone like a flame, no one who knew her could look into her clear, blue eyes and not be aware of her spiritual qualities.

  In Caroline one could find that same purity and straightforward honesty, but her temperament and personality were like the waves she had watched from her nursery windows as she grew up, and their music had ever been a part of her thoughts and dreams. White-crested, dashing headlong against the steep cliffs, breaking the emerald and sapphire of the smooth water wild, untrammelled and tempestuous or gentle waves, moving rhythmically as a woman’s soft breathing and sinking finally in soft surrender against the golden, sunlit sand.

  Caroline’s moods were as varied and as unexpected. Her mother would sigh over her, afraid of what the future would hold for a girl so breathtakingly beautiful and also so vividly and emotionally alive.

  Loyalty and singleness of purpose were virtues Caroline had to a fault. Once, when she was but ten years old, a young groom who looked after her pony was taken to court on a poaching charge. Caroline learnt of it and without asking permission or even telling anyone of her intention she rode off full gallop to Dover. She stormed into the court, demanded of the magistrates that she should give evidence in the defence of her groom, and was so plausible and persuasive that the boy was released to return with her to Mandrake.

  At home her absence had been noticed and her father was organising a search party when she returned. Lord Vulcan questioned Caroline somewhat severely, for both he and Lady Vulcan had been extremely frightened at their daughter’s disappearance. But Caroline’s explanation was very simple,

  “He was my friend, Papa!”

  And supposing he had been found guilty and sent to prison?” Lord Vulcan asked.

  “I would have gone with him,” Caroline replied, and added with unanswerable logic, “You would then have had both him and me freed.”

  Lady Vulcan worried over her daughter as she grew older, even while she could not help but be proud of her. Caroline was so exquisite both in body and mind that it seemed impossible to find a flaw anywhere. She might be impulsive, impetuous and at times mischievous, but no one had ever known her do an unkind action or an ungenerous one.

  The servants adored her and she had more friends than it was possible to remember. When she appeared in London it was not only her name and background of wealth and position which made her the most important debutante of her year, it was her loveliness, her friendliness and her exuberant, whole-hearted joyousness which made her a magnet to attract admirers of both sexes.

  One thing only surprised her godmother. Caroline, after four months in Society, was as heart-whole as the day she first left Mandrake. As ‘The Toast of the Town’ and ‘the Incomparable’ she had offers in plenty but she declined them all with a firmness which left her admirers with little hope that she was just coy or indecisive.

  “I cannot suspicion who you imagine will make a better match,” Lady Bullingham said sarcastically after Caroline had refused Lord Glosford.

  “I know someone who will,” Caroline answered, her lovely little face alight with amusement at her godmother’s anger.

  “Who then? For I vow I could read Debrett from cover to cover without enlightenment.”

  “He may not be there,” Caroline smiled.

  “Not in Debrett! Lord save us, girl! Do not tell me that you contemplate a mésalliance.. ‘Tis more than I can bear, who is he? I demand an answer! Who is he?”

  “Alas, I do not know,” Caroline replied. ‘For I have yet to meet a man I could love.”

  Sometimes she had doubted if such a man really existed yet when the, morning sun woke her, streaming through the windows of the chaise, she knew that for the f
irst time in her life a man’s name trembled on her lips. She felt alight with happiness and, pulling-down the window, took deep breaths of the fresh, salty air. In the distance she could see the first glint of the blue sea

  She gave the driver of the post-chaise instructions to drive to Mandrake and added that he was to take her, not to the front door, but into the stable yard. If he was surprised, he did not show it and he gave Caroline the impression that it was all a matter of indifference to him, and that he was only concerned with his own return to Sevenoaks. All the same she was anxious to keep her identity hidden from anyone who might inform Lord Brecon of her destination.

  Accordingly, when she drove into the stable yard at Mandrake and her father’s old groom came hurrying out to see who could be arriving, she jumped out of the chaise and drew him to one side.

  “Reward the man well, Harry,” she said, “give him breakfast and send him about his business. On no account tell him who I am. If he enquires inform him I am an unimportant guest in the house, or one of the upper servants, it matters not.”

  “Very good, m’lady,” Harry said, and then added with the familiarity of an old servant “Oi reckon yer ladyship has been up to one of her pranks again.”

  Caroline did not deign to answer this, but stepped with dignity towards the back door. On reaching it, however, she moved swiftly and with the obvious desire not to be seen along the long corridors until she reached some narrow stairs which led to the upper rooms

  She hurried up them and finally reached her own room without encountering anyone save an under-housemaid whom she sent in search of Maria. The latter, a young country girl who had looked after Caroline for the last two years, came hurrying to her in a few seconds’ time.

  “M’lady,” she exclaimed. “But we were not expecting you. I thought you were in London. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I was told your ladyship was here in this very house. I thought I must be a-dreaming. Are you real, m’lady? For I assure you I am in so much of a dither that I am not certain whether ‘tis your ladyship or a ghost.”

  “No, it is I, Maria, and now help me out of these things.”

  “Oh, m’lady, your gown! Whatever have you been doing to yourself?”

  “Sh, Maria. Ask no questions, but throw it away before my mother sees it. It is beyond repair. Now give me one of my muslins and make my hair as tidy as possible.”

  Half an hour later as the Marquis of Vulcan was coming out of the breakfast-room, he was surprised to see his daughter, bright-eyed, fresh, and exceedingly pretty in a crisp white muslin tied with blue ribbons, descending the grand staircase.

  “Caroline!” he exclaimed ‘Where have you sprung from? I had no idea you were here.”

  “Good morning Papa,” Caroline said, dropping a curtsey and then holding her face up to be kissed. “Say you are pleased to see me, for I vow I am enchanted to see you.”

  Lord Vulcan put his arms round her and held her close.

  “You should have sent us word,” he said. “Why are you home? From all reports you were enjoying the giddy whirl of high Society.”

  “I wanted to see Mama,” Caroline answered, “and you too, of course, Papa dear.”

  “As it happens I was just writing to you,” Lord Vulcan said. “The letter would have gone to you this very day. I had news to impart.”

  “News?”Caroline questioned.

  “Yes,” Lord Vulcan replied. “Come into the library Caroline. I have something to tell you.”

  He linked his arm through his daughter’s and drew her into the big library which overlooked the sea. The room was brilliant with sunshine and Caroline sat herself on a cushioned window-seat. It had been a favourite place of hers as a child and as she sank down on the seat she gave a sigh of utter content.

  “It is good to be home,” she murmured. “What is your news, Papa?”

  “It concerns your mother,” Lord Vulcan replied.

  “Mama?” Caroline questioned quickly. “She is not ill, is she?”

  “No, not ill exactly but she is not really well,” Lord Vulcan answered, his handsome face grave. “You remember when she was laid up last winter with a tiresome cough which the doctors could not cure. Well, I had Sir Henry Halford the King’s physician, down from London last week, and he advised that your mother should have a change of air, and indeed a change of environment. He is anxious for her to spend a month or so in Italy and then perhaps a little time by Lake Como. I am taking his advice, Caroline, and your mother and I leave next week for the Continent.”

  “Oh, papa!” Caroline exclaimed.

  “I was afraid you would be rather surprised,” Lord Vulcan smiled.

  “But if Mama is ill, I must go with her.” Lord Vulcan shook his head.

  “No, Caroline, though it was to be expected that you should suggest it. To begin with, Sir Henry desires that for the first part of the journey she shall have complete freedom from all anxiety and secondly, to be honest with you, we are rather looking forward to going away alone together. Much as we love you, Caroline, and our two boys you are none of you very restful people.”

  “Well, really!’ Caroline exclaimed, then she laughed. “A second honeymoon, Papa, is that the idea? It is a little late in the day when you have a daughter of’ seventeen and two large sons at Eton.”

  “We do not feel it is too late, nor that we are too old,” Lord Vulcan replied with dignity. “In fact we are both eagerly looking forward to an elopement from our responsibilities. Besides, I have never been able to take your mother abroad until now. The war lasted so long and when first it was over, there always seemed to be children to interfere with our plans.”

  Caroline made a little grimace,

  “What a nuisance we must be to you.”

  “On the contrary, you have been a great joy to us, but you have given us moments of apprehension. And that reminds me of something I want to ask of you Caroline. I want you to promise not to upset your mother in any way.”

  “Upset her? Why should I?”

  “Because the one thing that disturbs her is the thought of leaving you behind. She has worried incessantly at not being able to go to London to entertain for you your first season. We feel sure that your godmother is doing it admirably and that Cousin Debby is a good chaperon but at the same time your mother and I would have liked to be with you. That, as you know, has been impossible owing to her low state of health, and now I have had some difficulty in persuading her to take Sir Henry’s advice. She was afraid to leave England because of you, Caroline. To tell the truth she is quite certain you will be up to mischief if we are not around to keep an eye on you.”

  “Papa, that is monstrously unfair,” Caroline cried.

  Lord Vulcan, with a twinkle in his eye held up his hand.

  “No, Caroline. If you think of it, you will admit you have caused us a great deal of anxiety these past years and now that you are launched on the world, it is only to be expected that we should worry about you.”

  “There is no need,” Caroline began haughtily and then was silent.

  “All I ask,” Lord Vulcan continued after a little pause as if he waited for Caroline to say something more, “is that, if you are in any trouble before we leave, you either keep it to yourself or confide in me. Your mother is not to be worried. Is that understood?

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “And now perhaps you would like to relate to me why you have come back so unexpectedly.”

  Caroline hesitated. She looked out to sea and debated within herself whether she would tell her father or not. Then, as she pondered, she thought how enraged and angry he would be when he heard of the trick that Sir Montagu Reversby had played on her. Her father would be furious, she could be certain of that, in fact he might even consider it his duty to call out Sir Montagu or, if not, to fight a duel on her behalf, to horsewhip him. Lord Vulcan would not hesitate to go to any extremity where his honour and the honour of his family were concerned.

  He was proud and at times
extremely autocratic if people went against what he considered the correct and decent code of chivalry. It would be amusing, Caroline thought, to see Sir Montagu cringing before her father and yet all this would take time. If Lord Vulcan were to go to London, it would be unlikely that he and her mother could leave next week for the Continent. No, in this matter and on this occasion she must be both silent and unselfish.

  With a little sigh she turned towards her father.

  “I have nothing, to tell you, Papa,” she said. “I just had an overwhelming desire to see you and Mama. Perhaps it would be more honest to say that I was homesick and so – I came home.”

  “Cousin Debby is with you?”

  “No, Papa.”

  Lord Vulcan frowned.

  “You came alone?”

  “Yes, Papa. I decided on the spur of the moment.”

  “Now, Caroline, you know that I do not allow you to travel about alone.”

  His voice was angry, but before he could say more Caroline had sprung from the window-seat and put her arms round his neck.

  “Pray do not be vexed with me,” she pleaded, her soft cheek against his. “I know if was wrong of me to come, but I wanted to see you, and Cousin Debby, nice though she is, would have taken an age. There would have been days of packing and preparations before I got to Mandrake. As it is, I left last night and I am here this morning. Forgive me, Papa, and we will not tell Mama for fear it would worry her.”

  “Caroline, you are a sad romp,” Lord Vulcan sighed, but she knew by his tone that she had appeased him.

  “It is no use your telling me that things are right,” he continued, ‘for I know full well something is wrong. I can feel it in the air, but I will not force your confidence, my dear.”

  “I will look after myself.” Caroline promised. “Don’t worry. You know, Papa, I’m beginning to find out that you are a bit of a humbug.”

  Lord Vulcan raised his eyebrows.

  “Humbug?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Caroline replied firmly. ‘You see, when I lived here at Mandrake, I thought you the best, the most handsome and the most exemplary man in all the world but when I got to London I found out that once you had been an inveterate gamester, a dead shot, an incomparable whip and a fascinator of every lady, young or old, in the whole of the beau-monde. Now is that not the truth?”