An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition

by Cartland, Barbara

  Still Caroline did not look at him, then he added,

  “But, by God, I ought to ask you to go.”

  The words seemed to burst from Lord Brecon’s lips, his fingers tightened on hers, and she felt emotion vibrating through him so that she raised her eyes in wonderment to his face. Her eyes met his and then she was very still. Something magnetic passed between them so that Caroline quivered and felt her breath quicken. The whole world seemed to recede and there were only the two of them standing there. They were alone, man and woman facing each other across eternity.

  A coal fell in the grate, shattering the spell which bound them. Caroline’s eyes dropped and because of a shyness such as she had never known before she turned and without another word went from the room.

  She heard the library door close behind her, a defiant little bang as she ran down the passage, across the hall and up the stairs.

  She did not look around her, she had only one idea and that was to find herself back in the sanctuary of Lady Brecon’s sunlit room. But even as she sped along the corridor, Dorcas appeared at the far end of it.

  “Her ladyship is asleep, Miss Fry. I will show you to your bedchamber, and inform you when she wakes.”

  She stalked along the passage and Caroline followed her, her thoughts and feelings too chaotic and tumultuous for her to think of anything at the moment save Lord Brecon’s face as it had been but a moment ago in the Library.

  “Here is your room, Miss Fry. ’Tis near her’ ladyship’s should she require you.”

  Dorcas opened the door of a small slip of a bedroom. It was cheerless and rather chill as if it had not been used for some time, but Caroline saw only one thing in it - Maria, standing demurely by the dressing-table.

  Dorcas gave Maria a sharp glance.

  “Help Miss Fry with all she needs until her luggage arrives. After that assist her to unpack.”

  “Yes, Miss Dorcas.”

  Maria bobbed a little curtsey and then as the door shut she stared at Caroline while a broad smile transformed her plump face. Caroline held a warning finger to her lips.

  “Wait a moment,” she whispered.

  She crept towards the door, listened and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “‘Tis all right,” Maria said. “You are safe with her, m’lady. She is a decent sort is Miss Dorcas, harsh though she seems. It’s more than I can say of anyone else in the household.”

  “Oh, Maria,” Caroline exclaimed. “I am so pleased to see you. Tell me what you have discovered.”

  “A good deal, m’lady so much in fact that I hardly knows where to begin. Oh, never have I seen such a household, all at sixes and sevens it is. ‘Tis an eye-opener for me, I can assure you, m’lady, after living at Mandrake, to see the squabbling and wrangling in a house like this and the waste that goes on. Why, your ladyship would never believe it.”

  “Yes, yes, I want to hear everything,” Caroline said, “but first tell me, who is Mrs. Miller?”

  “You may well ask that, m’lady,” Maria answered. ‘‘Tis what I asked myself for ‘twas Mrs. Miller who engaged me. I saw the housekeeper first, a poor limp creature she is, too frightened to death of that Mrs. Miller. But as luck would have it two housemaids had left this very week, one discharged for impertinence and the other one walked out because she could not stand Mrs. Miller’s domineering ways.”

  “But who is she?” Caroline asked again.

  “Well, as far as I can ascertain,” Maria said, “she is a connection by marriage of his lordship’s aunt Lady Augusta Warlingham.”

  “Does Lady Augusta live here too?” Caroline asked.

  “Indeed she does, and a stranger lady you never saw. Tis hard put I am not to laugh when I have to attend her in her bedchamber.”

  “Yes but go on about Mrs. Miller,” Caroline interrupted, knowing how easily Maria could be side-tracked from the main point of a story.

  “It appears,” Maria went on, “that Lady Augusta fair dotes on her nephew, Mr. Gervase Warlingham, the gentleman that your ladyship asked me to enquire about.”

  “Yes, and what has he got to do with it?”

  “Mrs. Miller’s husband served with Mr. Warlingham in the Army and was killed, so I understand, at the Battle of Waterloo, and Mrs. Miller, being left with only a tiny pension, gets Mr. Warlingham to introduce her here when his lordship was away, on the Continent. Lady Augusta was in charge then, but she doesn’t care for housekeeping and so she gives Mrs. Miller full authority over the household and when his lordship comes back she’s in the saddle right enough, giving herself the airs and graces of the Quality.”

  “I see,” Caroline said. “So she is a friend of Mr. Gervase Warlingham’s?”

  “More than a friend, some say,” Maria answered, and added hastily, “not that I should be repeating such vulgar gossip to your ladyship and you must forgive me for mentioning it. Oh, m’lady, you are too young to be mixed up with all this sort of thing, and what would your father and her ladyship say to such a sorry coil? Let’s go home your ladyship, let’s get away from here. ‘Tis wrong I was to agree to such play-acting, and I have a feeling that worse might happen.”

  “What do you mean?” Caroline said. “Worse might happen?”

  “I am sure I don’t know, your ladyship,” Maria replied miserably. “’Tis just a feeling I have in my bones, like a goose walking over my grave, and I can’t explain it. I only know that I want to get back to Mandrake and take your ladyship with me.”

  “Then you are going to be disappointed, Maria,” Caroline said, ‘for I intend to stay here. I intend to get to the bottom of all the mysteries there are in this house.”

  As she spoke she raised her chin and there was an expression on her face and a ring in her voice which her father would have recognised as being characteristic of the Fighting Fayes all down the centuries. Maria continued to argue but she knew she fought a losing battle, and finally she indulged in a fit of the sullens, muttering darkly that she could smell trouble in the very air she breathed.

  By dinner time Caroline’s trunks had come and Maria had unpacked and dressed her in a gown of pale blue figured gauze tastefully draped over a petticoat of blue sarsnet which was embroidered with silver spangles. It was an elaborate dress for someone in the lowly position of companion but Caroline, fortified with Harriet’s idea that she was wearing Lady Caroline Faye’s cast-off clothes, wished to look beautiful rather than demure, fashionable rather than humble.

  She was not unduly perturbed by the expression on Mrs. Miller’s face as she walked into the drawing-room where they were to assemble before dinner was served. Mrs. Miller was also modishly attired, but her dress of yellow and saffron stripes was of cheap material and she relied more on exhibiting the charms of her white shoulders and full bosom than on the cut or hang of her gown.

  Looking at her, and at her painted lips and ornately arranged hair, Caroline was certain that Mrs. Miller was not the respectable widow she appeared to be. She had seen women like her often enough in London and heard her godmothers frankly expressed opinion of them. Lady Brecon, lying an invalid in her own bedroom, might not realise it, but Mrs. Miller, Caroline was sure, was not the type of person to manage a distinguished house or even to be a guest in one.

  As Caroline entered the drawing-room Mrs. Miller was speaking with an older woman whose appearance was so fantastic that Caroline concluded immediately that she must be the Lady Augusta Warlingham. She wore a wig of bright scarlet hair, frizzed and curled in an elaborate manner and ornamented with a bunch of crimson feathers held in place by a huge emerald and diamond brooch which matched the necklace of priceless emeralds round her yellow neck. She was very old, but her, thin, wrinkled face was heavily rouged, the powder clogged in her wrinkles while her old, short-sighted eyes were outlined with mascara. She pointed a claw-like hand at Caroline and cackled.

  “So this is the girl, is it? Come here, child, and let me look at you.”

  Caroline did as she was told, dropping a curtsey
and standing before the old woman, waiting for permission to move. Lady Augusta, looked at her, raised a quizzing-glass, then laughed a hoarse, chuckling laugh which somehow made Caroline like her, despite her extra ordinary, appearance.

  “You are a pretty chit,” she said. “Far too pretty, I am sure, for your comfort or for any other woman’s. I am not surprised that Hester wants to be rid of you. Is that what pricks you, Hester, my’ dear?” she asked of Mrs. Miller. “Too pretty, too pretty by far, and Gervase will be the first to notice it, eh?”

  Caroline was amused to see that Mrs. Miller looked cross and uncomfortable.

  “I was concerned only with Lady Brecon’s comfort,” she said stiffly, but Lady Augusta laughed again.

  “Stuff and nonsense, you are concerned only with your own feelings in the matter, as you always have been. Yes, she is pretty, too pretty for you to stomach, Hester, I should get rid of her if you can.”

  She chuckled again and at that moment Lord Brecon entered the room and the butler announced that dinner was served. Lord Brecon always looked smart but in Caroline’s eyes he was resplendent in evening dress. His coat of royal blue satin was ornamented with sapphire buttons, and the snowy folds of his cravat were arranged with meticulous care in the very latest mode. He offered Lady Augusta his arm and they went slowly in to dinner, followed by Mrs. Miller and Caroline.

  “We are a very small party tonight,” Lady Augusta remarked.

  “My friends arrive tomorrow,” Lord Brecon answered. “Twenty odd of them, so you won’t complain then, Aunt Augusta.”

  “Complain? Am I complaining now? It is a change not to be deafened by the chatter of raffish fools who can talk of naught but gaming and racing.”

  “Well, you will hear them again tomorrow,” Lord Brecon, said, and suddenly there seemed to Caroline to be a tremendous weariness in his voice as if he were bored to distraction at the thought of the morrow.

  He looked at Caroline and then looked away, but she was so acutely conscious of him that she could not eat, and thought that every spoonful she put into her mouth must choke her. She had never felt like this in her whole life before. Always she had felt assured, certain of her feelings and her actions, but now she felt as if her whole being had come alive. She was tingling with a strange warmth and excitement which quivered within her and yet at the same time she shivered because she was half afraid.

  “What is wrong with me?” she questioned, and knew only that dinner seemed at the same time interminably long and ridiculously short, long because the courses seemed to draw out one after another, dishes too innumerable to remember and short, because Lord Brecon was there and she wanted to listen to his voice as it came from between his lips, to watch him when he was not looking at her, to drop her eyes when he was.

  When dinner was over and the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room, Mrs. Miller said to Caroline,

  “I wish to speak to you, Miss Fry.”

  Lady Augusta was moving ahead of them towards the drawing-room and Mrs. Miller opened the door of another room. Caroline followed her into a small breakfast-room. She noticed that the hearth was full of unswept ashes and although it was dark, the curtains were not yet drawn.

  “A bad housekeeper,” Caroline thought and waited in attentive silence until Mrs. Miller should speak.

  “I wish to say, Miss Fry,” Mrs, Miller began, “that there is no need for you to dazzle us at night in a creation such as you are wearing at the moment. ‘Tis unsuitable for someone in your position, and presumptuous for you to take advantage of Lady Brecon’s absence to flaunt yourself before the other occupants of the Castle. I am in charge here as you know, and unless you can find yourself suitable garments such as should be worn by someone in your humble station in life, then I shall make arrangements for the maids to bring you a tray in your room. In many houses a companion does not enjoy the privilege of eating with her employers, but Lady Brecon has with what is, in my mind, mistaken magnanimity allowed it here. But if you wish for the company of your betters, it must be conditional upon your correct appearance. Is that clear?”

  Mrs. Miller’s bullying tone would have frightened anyone so young as Caroline had she really been anxious to retain her position, but Caroline had no real reason to be frightened of this vulgar woman.

  She looked her in the face and said,

  “I am sorry if my gowns displease you, Ma’am, but they are provided for me by Lady Caroline Faye who is reputed to have the best of taste. They are unfortunately all I possess. However, I will speak to her ladyship in the morning or if you prefer it tonight, and ask if my salary can be extended to buy the type of drab uniform which suits your pleasure.”

  Mrs. Miller gasped for a moment, then found her voice.

  “How dare you speak to me in that tone!” she said. “If you think you can flaunt me in this household you are much mistaken.”

  “Indeed!” Caroline retorted. “I had the idea I was engaged by Lady Brecon and that my appointment was confirmed by her son - his lordship. Do I really need your approval, Ma’am?”

  Mrs. Miller went quite white with rage. She spluttered and took a step towards Caroline as if she intended to slap her in the face. But Caroline’s level gaze and unconscious air of dignity made her change her mind. Instead, she stalked towards the door. As she reached it, she turned,

  “You will be sorry for this,” she said in furious tones, “sorry when you find yourself put out in the road without a reference and without a chance of further employment. When I am mistress here, you will change your tune, my dear Miss Fry, and that will be before you are very much older.”

  She went out and slammed the door after her. Caroline gave a little laugh, then stood considering Mrs. Miller’s words.

  “So she intends to be mistress of this house,” she thought. “Can she really have set her cap at Lord Brecon?”

  It was possible, but not probable for Caroline was sure in her heart of one thing - Lord Brecon was not interested in Mrs. Miller.

  6

  Caroline opened her eyes and stretched out her arms.

  “Lud, but this is an uncomfortable bed,” she said to Maria who was drawing back the curtains.

  “’Tis not the only thing that is uncomfortable in this house,” Maria answered. “Oh m’lady, I never thought I would live to see such a set of servants. Why, the head housemaid even had the impudence to tell me that there was no reason why I should trouble to bring you a cup of chocolate in the morning.”

  “Miss Fry is only a companion,” she says, “and is not entitled to extra attentions.” Extra attention indeed! I nearly boxed her ears for her. But ‘tis from Mrs. Miller they take their orders.”

  Caroline sat up in bed.

  “For goodness’ sake, Maria, don’t parade your partiality for me too obviously or they may guess that I am not what I seem.”

  “If they weren’t all cork brained, they would guess it anyway,” Maria retorted, “for no one could look less like a poor dependent than your ladyship.”

  “Well, they must indeed be as you say,” Caroline replied “for everyone has accepted me as such, including Lady Brecon and his lordship.”

  Her voice quivered a little on the last word. She had been slightly piqued that Lord Brecon had not for a moment questioned her story of being a companion. It was understandable when he had first seen her dusty and dishevelled from lurking in a wood at odd hours; but now although it would have been dangerous, Caroline would have been gratified if he had seemed just the slightest degree suspicious or even surprised that she should be in need of employment.

  She wondered what her father and mother would think if they knew that their only daughter whom they held to be the equal of any great lady in the land, not only had chosen so lowly a post, but had been accepted in it without question.

  “Put me out one of my prettiest gowns, Maria,” Caroline commanded suddenly in a mood of defiance.

  Maria, however, was more cautious and chose not one of Caroline’s more elaborate dre
sses, but a simple muslin trimmed only with ribbons.

  “Breakfast is downstairs m’lady,” she said, “but I credit you will be alone, for Mrs. Miller has asked for hers in her bedchamber, and his lordship is already out riding.”

  “That reminds me, Maria,” Caroline said, getting out of bed and looking like some exquisite Greek goddess as she stood for a moment at the window, her body silhouetted through the transparency of her night-robe.

  “Reminds you of what m’lady?” Maria enquired, when Caroline did not finish the sentence but was silent as she looked out over the green park as if searching for a glimpse of someone on horseback.

  “What was I speaking about?” Caroline asked with a start. “Oh yes, of course, I want you to find out who will be in the house-party which arrives today. I expect the housekeeper will have a list so that she can prepare the bedrooms. You must try to see it, Maria, and commit it to memory in case there is one amongst his lordship’s guests who will recognise me.”

  “Oh, m’lady, what a dreadful danger! I had not thought on’ it before,” Maria exclaimed in alarm.

  “Why be scared until we discover if there is a reason for it?” Caroline asked and began to dress.

  She found that her duties that morning were not very arduous. Lady Brecon slept late and Dorcas saw to all her needs until eleven o’clock. Miss Fry was then requested to read her ladyship the leading articles in the Morning Post and was given two letters to write, after which she was told that her time was her own until the Dowager awoke from her after luncheon nap. Delighted to be free Caroline hurried down to the Vicarage, where she saw Harriet and enquired if there were any letters. There was one from Mrs. Edgmont, and Caroline despatched one she had written saying that she was very comfortable and happy at Cuckhurst and intended to stay at the Vicarage for at least several more days.

  Her business done, Caroline walked slowly back towards the Castle. Although the building itself was sombre, the park and the gardens surrounding it were lovely and a great avenue of oaks bordered the drive. Where they ended there was a wrought iron gate leading into the more formal gardens and Caroline, going through this, presently found herself on a broad grass walk at the end of which was a small Grecian Temple beside a water-lily pond.