An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition

by Cartland, Barbara

  Caroline gave a little sigh of relief. If Lord Brecon had missed the enquiry he need not have heard that Sir Montagu was searching for a woman that night in the wood. She had not dreamt before that Sir Montagu might be implicated in the murder, and she felt quite shaken and faint at her narrow escape from the most terrible notoriety and scandal.

  “Well, Francis, as Brecon had an alibi, why do the lies that were told about him perturb you?” Lord Vulcan asked.

  “I am not surprised you ask that question,” Lord Milborne replied. “I asked it of myself. Quite frankly, Justin, I took a liking to the boy. He is a very different type from his father, good-looking, well set-up, looks you straight in the eye when you speak to him and has an air about him which is sadly lacking in some of the popinjays I see about nowadays. To be honest, he was a man after my own heart, and I could not help feeling there was something behind this insistence on the part of the men - strangers they were too - that he had murdered the lawyer.”

  “Why, do you think he really did it?” Lord Vulcan asked.

  “No, not by any means, but I think someone had paid the two men well to say so and rehearsed them thoroughly in the parts they had to play.”

  “In other words,” Lord Vulcan said, sipping a glass of wine as he spoke, ‘you think Brecon has a dangerous enemy?”

  “I do,” Lord Milborne answered, “and yet I have few grounds for such an assumption and could naturally only accept his statement that he had no suspicion whatsoever why anyone of his acquaintance should wish to murder Rosenberg and pin the crime on him.”

  “He admitted to knowing the murdered man?”

  “Yes, he, told me that he had had dealings with the lawyer, but he thought him a most undesirable acquaintance and a rogue. He was quite open and frank about it and I saw no reason to doubt his word.”

  “No, no, of course not,” Lord Vulcan said. “So your verdict was “Murder by persons unknown?”

  “Exactly! If you want my opinion, it is a verdict which is given far too frequently these days. We are letting too many criminals slip through our fingers and giving them the opportunity to strike again another day.”

  Caroline moved across to the window.

  “Then you think, Uncle Francis,” she said quietly, “that there is a likelihood that the murderer, whoever he may be, may try to implicate Lord Brecon on another occasion?”

  “Yes, Caroline,” Lord Milborne said gravely. “I am afraid that is what I do think. I am sorry if it be so, because I liked the lad.”

  “And you have no suspicion,” Caroline asked, “who this dangerous enemy might be?”

  “Now, I didn’t say that. I have suspicions, but they are by no means evidence and someone in my position has to be very careful when he opens his mouth.”

  “And what is your suspicion, Uncle Francis?” Caroline asked. “I have just told you, Caroline, I have to be very careful what I say,’ Lord Milborne replied, cutting himself a slice of venison from the cold collation in front of him

  “Oh, Uncle Francis, but you must tell us,” Caroline insisted.”

  “I declare, Francis, you have got me intrigued,” Lord Vulcan said. “I hear quite enough of these cases as a Justice for Dover, but this one seems to have greater possibilities than the usual run of such sordid matters. Tell us whom you suspect, Francis. You are among friends here.”

  “I have no secrets from you, Justin,” Lord Milborne said, “but Caroline must promise me that she will not gossip. The chatter of women’s tongues carries news far swifter than any mail coach.”

  “I promise you, Uncle Francis,” Caroline said quickly.

  Lord Milborne smiled at her.

  “Very well then,” he said. “I will tell you what I know. In my position, as you can imagine, I hear a great number of things about a great number of people. It is my duty as Chief Justice of the County to pay attention to a certain amount of the stories I am told. Well, during this past year I have been hearing again and again of a young gentleman called Gervase Warlingham. His name has cropped up on several occasions when I have had reports of - shall we say - unsavoury incidents occurring in the sporting world, such as a doped cock, a mill where one of the pugilists has been paid to let his opponent win - a definite disregard of the rules of racing - and always somewhere in the background when these things occurred has loomed the figure of Mr. Gervase Warlingham. This same young man has also, I hear, been playing the tables pretty high. He is Lord Brecon’s first cousin and is, incidentally, heir presumptive to the title, although there is no reason why Brecon, who is young and healthy, should not marry and have a large family.”

  “But if he should not be so fortunate, then Mr. Warlingham inherits,” Lord Vulcan said drily.

  “Exactly,” Lord Milborne agreed.,

  “What does he look like?” Caroline asked.

  “I am afraid I have not the pleasure of his acquaintance,” Lord Milborne replied, with a smile. “I remember his father. He was a dark-countenanced fellow with a violent temper and a perpetual attack of gout which kept him in a state of unceasing fury, but I have not met his son. I shouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t as anxious to avoid me as I him.”

  “You really think that it was he who murdered Mr. Rosenberg, and tried to get Lord Brecon arrested for it?” Caroline asked breathlessly.

  “Now, Caroline, you mustn’t put words into my mouth,” Lord Milborne replied. “All I have said is that I have my suspicions and further than that I will not commit myself.”

  “Do not plague his lordship, Caroline,” Lord Vulcan said. “I cannot think what has happened to your mother. Run upstairs and see if you can find her.”

  Caroline did as she was bid; but when the Marchioness, who had been delayed by superintending the packing, had gone downstairs, Caroline went to her own bedroom and stood for a long time looking over the sea.

  Lord Brecon was in danger. She had saved him once, for if he had not had an alibi that night, it would have been hard for him to prove that he had not had a hand in the murdering of Isaac Rosenberg and worse still, had she not hurried him away from the clearing and Sir Montagu, and the grooms had found him, they would have found also the false note and the letters which the lawyer had come to sell.

  It. would then have been well nigh impossible to prove his innocence, and Mr. Gervase Warlingham could have had high hopes of succeeding to the title and the family estates.

  Should she warn Lord Brecon, she wondered, that there might be more attempts of the same sort in the future? Yet how could she write such a letter and how indeed could she explain such intimate knowledge of his affairs without revealing her own identity and betraying Lord Milborne’s confidence? What a tangle it appeared to be!

  Caroline sighed. Yet it was difficult to forget Lord Brecon’s face. How handsome he was, how strong! As, Lord Milborne had said, there was an air about him which made him appear different and outstanding from all other men. But what good would his strength be against treachery? Even the strongest man could be laid low by a vile intriguer who would stoop to the very lowest crime to gain his own ends.

  “I must do something,” Caroline said to herself, but what it was to be she had no idea.

  Yet her thoughts were continually of Lord Brecon. Every moment when she was not actively engaged with helping her father and mother or talking with Lord Milborne she found herself thinking of him and the danger in which he stood. More than once she played with the idea of confessing to Lord Milborne the part she had played on the night of the murder, but she realised that nothing would be gained by this. Lord Brecon’s name was cleared and all she would do would be to reveal her own folly in trusting so obvious an outsider as Sir Montagu Reversby.

  As she lay awake that night, restless as the waves she could hear beating below the cliffs, Caroline wished that she could tell someone of her difficulties and ask advice. She was honest enough to confess to herself that she was afraid of going back to London. She had no desire to meet Sir Montagu again she was more anxio
us, too, than she was ready to admit to Mrs. Edgmont’ about the rumours that were being spread about her.

  It was difficult to know what Sir Montagu would say. He was not likely to tell the whole truth, for it would make him look a fool to have got so far and then to have lost his prey just at the moment of capture. It would be to invite a gale of laughter at his expense. Yet at the same time he could harm her. Caroline was well aware of that, and to have driven alone with him after dinner was in itself an indiscretion which would draw upon her head the most violent censure of Society.

  “I was a fool!” Caroline said aloud in the darkness, and yet she could not entirely regret what she had done.

  Had she never gone to The Dog and Duck she would never have met Lord Brecon. It was impossible to think of him without remembering his kiss and though she blushed in the darkness as she thought of it, it was painful to remember that he had kissed Zara, that strange, exotic tamer of tigers, as easily and with, it seemed to Caroline looking back, as much enthusiasm. With his looks and position and estates there must be dozens, if not hundreds of women in his life and it was bitter to recall that he said they would not meet again.

  Caroline knew both jealousy and misery that night and there were dark lines under her eyes the following morning when she said good-bye to her father and mother before they drove off to Dover, but they attributed both that and her listlessness to her sadness at their, departure.

  “Try to be good, Caroline,” Lady Vulcan said, drawing her daughter aside from the hall into the morning-room. “For I am troubled at leaving you, my dearest.”

  “Do not fret, Mama,” Caroline said. “Go away, enjoy yourself, and get really well. If you worry, the whole journey will be for nothing and Papa is looking forward to it so much.”

  “I know he is,” Lady Vulcan said softly.

  In her feather-trimmed bonnet she looked so young and lovely that it was difficult to believe that she was the mother of a girl of seventeen. At thirty-six Serena Vulcan was in the height of her beauty. Her face always calm and lovely had become even more radiant with the happiness of the passing years, Caroline, regarding her perhaps for the first time as a woman rather, than as her mother, could understand her father’s overwhelming love and pride in his wife.

  “Have a lovely time, Mama,” she said impulsively “you deserve it. And don’t think of me at all. I shall come to no harm.”

  “I wish I could be sure of that,” Lady’ Vulcan said anxiously. “You are so sweet, Caroline, but so like your father.”

  “And what is wrong with that?” Caroline asked, her eyes beginning to twinkle.

  “What are good points in a man are not so admirable in a woman,” her mother answered. “When your father wants something, his determination would overpower an army of opposition, and you are the same. Women should be soft and gentle and pliable - not brave, determined, courageous and daring.”

  “Am I all those things?” Caroline asked.

  “Yes, all of them,” Lady Vulcan sighed. “I might add impetuous and impulsive as well.”

  “Mama, you are being most unfair,” Caroline protested.

  “Am I, darling? To make me happy you must promise me that while I am away you will try to be all woman. After all, there must be some of me in you somewhere.”

  Caroline gave a little shout of laughter.

  “Lud, Mama, you are wonderful! I will be demure and frail and I will try to fall in love with someone just as domineering as Papa.”

  “You will be lucky if you find anyone half as splendid as your father,” Lady Vulcan said seriously and then, as Caroline bent forward to kiss her, they heard Lord Vulcan’s voice from the hall.

  “Serena ! Are you ready?”

  “It is time to go,” Lady Vulcan said. “Goodbye, darling, please remember all I have told you.”

  “I will be really feminine, Mama,” Caroline dimpled, then stood on the top of the grey stone steps to wave good-bye as the big claret-coloured coach sped away down the drive.

  Mrs. Edgmont, standing beside her, wiped her eyes.

  “Oh, I do hope they are quite safe,’’ she said. “I would not venture in one of those smoky steamers for a hundred guineas.”

  “Oh, I would love it,” Caroline exclaimed. “You must be modish and move in the times, Cousin Debby. This is 1821, not the Middle Ages.” Then as if she thought her words had been too scornful she slipped her arm through the older woman’s and added, “Come and make plans. Let us repair to the breakfast-room. It is nice and cosy there and we will ring for some chocolate. I ate no breakfast, I was so distraught at the thought of Mama and Papa leaving us.”

  “Indeed, I wish they had not gone,” Cousin Debby sighed.

  Caroline rang for the chocolate and when it came, poured a cup for Mrs. Edgmont and one for herself. She took a sip and then almost dreamily, for she was deep in her own thoughts, asked:

  “Have you ever heard of Lord Brecon?”

  Mrs. Edgmont put down her cup with a little clatter.

  “How strange that you should ask me that, Caroline. Why, only yesterday morning by the same post as I had the letter from your godmother I received one from Brecon Castle.”

  “From Brecon Castle!” Caroline exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in her chair. “Cousin Debby, whom do you know at Brecon Castle?”

  “I was just about to tell you, dear. I have the letter somewhere in my reticule.”

  She searched in her bag of blue velvet, taking so long in finding the envelope that Caroline could have cried out with impatience.

  “Ah, here it is,” Mrs. Edgmont exclaimed at last. “Now let me see. Yes, I was not mistaken. It is from Brecon Castle, Cuckhurst, Kent.”

  “Cuckhurst!” Caroline exclaimed. “Is that the name of the village?”

  “It must be,” Mrs. Edgmont replied.

  “That is strange, too – ” Caroline began, and then checked herself. “Go on, tell me about the letter and whom it is from.”

  “It comes from a very old friend of mine,” Mrs. Edgmont replied, “actually she is a connection of my husband’s. A dear woman and of course, a gentlewoman by birth called Fanny Hall. She is older than I am, but no one offered for her, and when her father died she was left in very straitened circumstances. She was a governess for some time and then a year ago she became companion, so she tells me, to the Dowager Lady Brecon.”

  “What else does she say?” Caroline asked eagerly.

  “She writes to me,” Mrs. Edgmont continued, “because she has decided to give up the post. By great good fortune her brother, who went out to India with the East India Company, has come home with quite a considerable fortune. He wants dear Fanny to keep house for him and so, after many years of working in other people’s homes, she will have the happiness of tending one of her own.”

  “Did she tell you anything about Brecon Castle and the people in it?” Caroline asked.

  “Yes, she writes a great deal of the Dowager,” Mrs. Edgmont replied. “She is devoted to her and very sorry to leave her, but she adds that there are other people in the house on whom she will be pleased to turn her back. She says “I will not tire you with details, my dearest Debby, it is sufficient to say that nowadays people obtain positions of trust and responsibility which they abuse to the fullest extent - people who, because of their behaviour, are not entitled to style themselves Ladies”.

  “‘Something or somebody has upset her,” Caroline said with a smile.

  “Of course, dear Fanny is too discreet to mention any names,” Mrs. Edgmont said.

  “Which makes the letter very dull,” Caroline commented. “Oh, I don’t think so, dear. Let me see if she says anything else. Yes, “The servants come and go continually and who shall blame them under the Circumstances?”

  “What circumstances?” Caroline asked.

  “She does not relate them, dear,” Mrs. Edgmont replied, scanning the closely written pages.

  “How truly maddening!” Caroline complained. “Is there nothing else?�
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  “No, just that she is sorry to leave and wonders if I could find anyone to take her place,” Mrs. Edgmont replied.

  “What is that?” Caroline asked quickly.

  “She wants me to recommend a new companion for the Dowager,” Mrs. Edgmont, answered. “Now, let me think. Is there anyone I would consider suitable? It is a pity that that nice daughter of your father’s attorney is not available. She was looking for a position of the same sort last year, I remember, but I believe she is perfectly satisfied where she is at the moment.”

  Caroline got to her feet.

  “Wait a minute, Cousin Debby,” she said. “I have an idea – .Yes, a very good idea – in fact, I have the very person for you.”

  “Indeed, Caroline, and who night that be?”

  “Er – there – there was a girl at school with me. She was nice and I was very fond of her.”

  “I thought you disliked everyone at Madame d’Alber’s Academy,” Mrs. Edgmont said suspiciously. “You were only there three months, Caroline, and you came home vowing that you would not set, foot inside it again, declaring that everyone was unkind to you.”

  “No, no, there were exceptions - I dare say I said that, but was so frightened that Mama would insist that I should go back for a further term. I could not have borne it, Cousin Debby. Most of the girls were prim little hypocrites - I hated them! But there was one there, no two, of whom I was very fond, and this particular girl of whom I speak is the very person to be companion to the Dowager Lady Brecon.”

  “Is she of good breeding, Caroline?”

  “Oh, very good,” Caroline answered. “I assure you that she comes of a most distinguished family. She is well-educated and of great sensibility. Please recommend her, Cousin Debby. I should be so glad if you would.”

  “Well, of course, Caroline, if she is a friend of yours and in need of employment, I will do my best. Where is she living at the moment?”

  Caroline took a deep breath.