An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition

by Cartland, Barbara

“Very handsome, and I am told the women find his haggard pallor irresistible. But then who knows what women will admire? What do you say, Miss Fry?”

  Caroline knew that he was being deliberately provoking, but for the very life of her at that moment she could not find an adequate retort.

  She murmured something inaudible and rose to carry a plate of sandwiches to the Dowager’s bedside.

  “Thank you, dear but I will eat no more,” Lady Brecon answered. “Miss Fry looks after me beautifully, Vane. I am so glad that dear Fanny Hall recommended her to come to me.”

  “We are indeed fortunate,” Lord Brecon said with a smile, “although I am afraid that Hester Miller will not agree with us.”

  Lady Brecon sighed.

  “Do not tell me of it, Vane dear. I have no wish to hear. But I suspicion we made rather a mistake in giving Mrs. Miller so much authority while you were away.”

  “Well, we can always ask her politely to find another post,” Lord Brecon said.

  He was looking at Caroline, and his tone was absent and careless as if he were not concentrating on what he was saying.

  “There might be unpleasantness about that, Vane, since your Aunt was so insistent on her appointment. No, I am afraid the only solution will be to dismiss her when you marry.”

  Lady Brecon spoke lightly, but her words had a strange effect on her son. Lord Brecon’s hands tightened over the arms of his chair until the knuckles stood out very white. For a moment he sat looking into space with so much tension in his expression that Caroline felt that at any moment words would burst explosively from his lips, but the seconds ticked by and he did not speak and the Dowager, who was sipping her tea, did not notice, that anything was amiss. Only Caroline waited, watchful and breathless, until Lady Brecon held out her cup to her with a little smile.

  “Thank-you, dear. Will you put it down for me?”

  Caroline did as she was asked and when she turned again to Lord Brecon, he was sitting back in his chair relaxed. She had the impression that his face had not entirely regained its composure, but he did not glance in her direction. Instead he rose to his feet a little stiffly as if the action were somewhat of an effort.

  “I must go now, Mother,” he said, “my guests should be arriving.”

  “That will be nice for you, dear,” Lady Brecon said. “Come and say good-night to me if you can, but if you are detained I shall understand.”

  Lord Brecon went towards the door. As he reached it, his mother asked,

  “Do you wish Miss Fry to join you at dinner, Vane? Or have you too many women in your party already?”

  “No, of course, we shall be pleased to see Miss Fry,” Lord Brecon replied.

  He spoke, it seemed to Caroline, with a deliberate indifference and there was something so cold in the tone of his voice that she felt almost as if he had slapped her. He went from the room and the door closed behind him.

  She longed beyond anything to know what had happened. Why had the mere mention of marriage perturbed and upset him so intensely? Was that the secret she had always suspected him of hiding? Had he a wife hidden away somewhere? What else could cause such a convulsion of his feelings? She could not understand him, but there was little time to ponder over his behaviour for she had to pay attention to the Dowager who was speaking to her.

  “It is so delightful to have my son back again. I think I told you, Miss Fry, that he has been abroad for nearly two years. I missed him terribly, but soon after his twenty-fifth birthday he seemed ill, or at least not in his rightful health. No one seemed to know what was wrong with him and of course he refused to go to a physician. You know how self-conscious men are when it concerns their ailments, but finally I persuaded him to take a trip abroad. It is good for all young men to see the world.”

  “What happened after his twenty-fifth birthday to upset him?” Caroline enquired.

  “I do not collect there was anything specific that upset him,” Lady Brecon replied vaguely. “He just seemed generally run down, mopey and ailing, which was so unlike Vane, for he was always high-spirited and happy. He was a beautiful baby and a charming little boy.” She looked at Caroline and smiled. “I expect you will laugh at me for being an adoring mother, but he is all I have and so I am afraid he is my dearest and, indeed, my only interest in life.”

  “I understand Ma’am,” Caroline said softly.

  “How sympathetic you are, Miss Fry,” Lady Brecon smiled. “But one day, when you have a son, you will feel the same. Like me you would do anything in the world to give your child happiness.”

  There was silence for a moment and then, as Caroline did not speak Lady Brecon said almost wistfully.

  “You would think Vane would be happy, wouldn’t you? Owner of this fine Castle and its vast estates and with a considerable fortune?”

  “His lordship should be happy,” Caroline prevaricated. “As you say, Ma’am, he has so much.”

  “Yes, so much,” the Dowager repeated but she sighed. “So much.”

  Dorcas came into the room and took up the tea-tray. She looked sharply towards the bed and Caroline had the impression that she half-sensed that Lady Brecon had been talking intimately.

  “You are tired, m'lady,” Dorcas said. “I think Miss Fry should leave you now and that your ladyship should have a nap before dinner. It will do you good.”

  “Very well, Dorcas,” Lady Brecon agreed and smiled at Caroline. “Come and see me, dear, before you go down to dinner, and wear a pretty gown. Youth passes so quickly -make the best of it.”

  “I try to do that, Ma’am,” Caroline replied. “And I will wear one of my prettiest gowns to please you.”

  In her own room she was at least free to think, yet puzzle as she might, Lord Brecon’s behaviour at tea could not be explained. A dozen possibilities presented themselves, but Caroline discarded them one by one. The idea that Lord Brecon had made a secret and disastrous marriage early in life and could not escape from the consequences of his mistake was one that she resolutely refused to countenance. Yet her mind returned to it again and again and as she dressed, her brows were wrinkled with thought and perplexity.

  She would have worn one of her more elaborate ball gowns had not Maria protested that it would arouse suspicions, if not in the household, at least among the guests. To please her Caroline chose in the end a more simple dress of embroidered tulle which had a bunch of pink roses on the bodice and an embroidered scarf to match.

  It was a pretty dress and became her well, and it was with a consciousness of her own beauty that she entered the drawing-room where the guests assembled before dinner. Despite her close scrutiny of the list Caroline was still a little apprehensive and she glanced searchingly at Lord Brecon’s visitors as she entered, but she was relieved to find that not only had she never seen one of them before, but it was extremely unlikely that they would have moved in any society favoured by her godmother.

  The gentlemen were mostly older than Lord Brecon and it was obvious from a certain coarseness both in their appearance and, behaviour that they were not of the bon ton. Also it seemed from their conversation that they took little interest in anything save gaming in one form or another. They spoke of mills, races and cock-fights as if with them they were an everyday occurrence. Caroline was not surprised to see that the candles were lit in the card room and the tables set out ready for an evening’s gambling.,

  The women were not particularly interesting. Several were flirtatious widows, and two or three of them had come with their husbands. Another, Mrs. Clarence Piggott-Rowe, was a middle-aged woman of almost masculine appearance but with a clear wit and, as Caroline learned later, a reputation for being the most dashing rider to hounds in three counties.

  A prodigious amount of food and drink was consumed at dinner, but Caroline ate little. She found herself quite amused by the gentleman on her left. He was the Honourable Thomas Stratton whose name had seemed familiar.

  Mr. Stratton was dressed in the extreme of fashion. His shoulders were
padded to an extravagant width, the points of his collar were so high as to make it almost impossible for him to turn his head, his waistcoat was striped and his coat of superfine cloth was of a startling shade of peacock-blue, ornamented with buttons of rubies and diamonds. He spoke with the bored drawl of a dandy, but Caroline, noticing that his eyes were often amused, guessed this was a deliberate pose and that he was really as blasé as he wished to appear.

  Having regarded Caroline languidly through his quizzing glass, Mr. Stratton made little effort at conversation until his lordship’s excellent wines began to take effect. Then he talked and the story of his life was somewhat unusual.

  “I am the sixth son of an impoverished peer,” he told Caroline. “I had resigned myself to enter the Church or sail for the Colonies, when my uncle, a devilish difficult fellow, who had quarrelled with all my brothers, died and left me a fortune. The Lord knows he would have quarrelled with me too if I hadn’t kept out of his way. I am now in the happy position of being rich, and the unhappy one of not knowing what to do, with myself. I have been brought up to be humble, self-effacing and thankful for the small mercies that life could offer me. And small enough they were, I can assure you! I am at the moment wealthy enough to indulge in any fancy which might take me, but unfortunately my fancies have been blunted by ill-usage. Now that I can afford to accept invitations and to give them, parties have lost their savour. There is no such anti-climax as when the unattainable becomes attainable. To tell the truth I am blasé of society before I have begun to enjoy it. Blister it, ‘tis a monstrous position and though, I ask every soul I meet, no one can suggest a cure.”

  Caroline laughed.

  “Have you sampled the delights of London, sir?”

  “But indeed I have. I have spent over a year there but the boredom of it nearly kills me. When I was poor, I had to make myself into an entertaining companion so that I paid for my supper but among the rich no one attempts to be entertaining. They are just rich and devilish dull!”

  “Oh, sir, I vow you are peculiarly critical,” Caroline said.

  “Take the young females in Society,” Mr. Stratton went on, sipping his replenished glass and warming to his point. “I declare the way they languish and ogle a man is enough to make one cry from sheer ennui. To be fashionable I have, to be sure, declared myself the slave of the latest beauty and avowed that unless she will have me I shall be cast into utter despondency. There is no doubt that she is an incomparable, but what is one among so many?”

  “And who is this unique lady?” Caroline asked, and Lord Brecon, who surprisingly had been listening to the conversation, although he was three places away, leaned forward to ask

  “Yes, Thomas, who is this lady who has at last captured your ice bound heart? For I vow I thought you would never fall a victim to the fair sex?”

  “Other women could not be mentioned in the same breath as the incomparable,” Mr. Stratton answered. “I will give you her name and toast her at the same time. To the Beauty of all Beauties - the Lady Caroline Faye.”

  He raised his glass, while Caroline felt the colour drain from her face as she stared at him.

  “Lady Caroline Faye,” Lord-Brecon repeated slowly. “I think I have heard of her.”

  “Dammit, of course you have heard of her,” Mr. Stratton ejaculated. “The very question in your voice, Brecon, shows what a yokel you are. Why, her ladyship is the talk of the town.”

  “That is true enough,” remarked Mrs. Piggott-Rowe, who was sitting on Lord Brecon’s right, and in more ways than one.”

  “What, Ma’am, do you infer?” Mr. Stratton asked haughtily.

  “Oh, I won’t spoil your romance, Tommy, me dear,” she answered, “for like Vane here I am delighted to hear that you have lost your heart at last. I swear I was ready to bet you had been born without that necessary organ, But there are ugly rumours circulating about your Lady Caroline and another. And who should that he but our old enemy Montagu Reversby!”

  “Good God! That damned fellow!” Mr Stratton said thumping the table. “If ever there was a vulgar piece of goods, ‘tis he! If I heard him so much as mention Lady Caroline’s name in my presence, I will blow a hole through him, the devil I will.”

  “Now don’t make a fool of yourself, Thomas,” Lord Brecon said. “You know you never were a hand with the pistols.”

  “Lady Caroline and Montagu Reversby,” Mr. Stratton ejaculated in a strangled voice. ‘‘Tis a lie whatever they may be saying.”

  “Now, now, Tommy,” Mrs. Piggott-Rowe said soothingly. “It is no use making a cake of yourself. These Society wenches are all the same, and being as mad as fire gets you nowhere.”

  “It’ll get Reversby into the next world before he is much older, if he’s not careful,” Mr. Stratton muttered.

  Lord Brecon’s attention was distracted by the lady seated on his left and Caroline, relieved that he had withdrawn from the conversation, asked Mr. Stratton quietly but in a voice that shook a little with surprise and fright

  “What is Lady Caroline like?”

  Mr. Stratton took a long drink and when he set down his glass, Caroline saw that he was slightly foxed. He looked at her, however, with eyes that were strangely honest and unsophisticated.

  “I will tell you the solemn truth,” he whispered slowly, ‘because I like you and because - by Jupiter - you are the prettiest girl I have seen for a very long time. Dammit, I will let the cat out of the bag. I have never met her.”

  Caroline laughed.

  “Then why do you pretend to admire her so vastly?”

  “Because the fellows are always roasting me for not dancing attendance on some simpering wench. Blister it, the creatures had no use for me when I was poor, so I am damned if they are going to catch hold of my purse-strings now I am rich.”

  Caroline laughed, but she had a certain sympathy for Mr. Stratton. She knew how persistent the matchmaking Mamas could be when there was a matrimonial catch in sight, and how cleverly they could out-jockey and snub out of existence a man who was not eligible from a financial point of view, however charming he might be otherwise.

  She was, however, too shaken and alarmed by what had taken place at dinner to be able to concentrate exclusively on Mr. Stratton’s troubles. It had been for her a moment of horror when she heard her name toasted, and she had thought that at any moment her identity was about to be revealed.

  When the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room, she sat talking for a little while and then went upstairs to see if the Dowager had need of her. Lady Brecon was already settled for the night, but as she was often wakeful, there was a pile, of books by the bedside.

  “If you cannot sleep, Ma’am, would you like me to read to you?” Caroline asked.

  “No, thank you, my dear,” Lady Brecon replied. “I shall read a little to myself, then I shall doze, then I shall read again. Dorcas comes in several times during the night to replenish the candles. Like myself she is a bad sleeper and does not mind attending to my wants. You go to bed and sleep soundly - you need sleep when you are young.”

  “But is there nothing I can do for, you?” Caroline insisted.

  “Yes, there is,” Lady Brecon exclaimed. “I have just thought on it. Dorcas tells me that the housekeeper has not fetched a packet of bird-seeds which we left ready for the budgerigars in my son’s library. I am afraid this means that she has not fed them today. She is a careless woman and I must get Mrs. Miller to speak to her on the morrow. If you would be so kind, dear Miss Fry, to take the packet and give the birds a little of the seed I would indeed be grateful. I cannot bear it that the poor sweets should go hungry.”

  “Nor I, Ma’am,” Caroline answered. “Where is the seed?”

  “It is on the console table by the window,” Lady Brecon answered. “Will you fill their china dish and at the same time see if they have any water. There are two pairs in the cage they were my most prized and beautiful birds, but I wanted to give my son a present on his homecoming and there was nothing I value
d more.”

  “I am sure he understood that,” Caroline said softly. “Pray do not worry, Ma’am, I will see that the birds do not go hungry.”

  She took the packet of seed and slipped downstairs. The drawing-room door was open, and from it and the card room she heard sounds of laughter and both male and female voices intermingled. The gentlemen had already joined the ladies.

  The Library did not open off the Great Hall, but was reached by a passage being slightly apart from the salons on the ground floor. Caroline had learned from Maria that it was Lord Brecon’s own sanctum and was not used by visitors so she opened the door without hesitation and, as she had anticipated, the room was empty. The fire glowed in the big fireplace and the tapers in the sconces on either side of the mantel-shelf had been lit, but this was not enough to illuminate the entire room. In the far corners it was dark and shadowy, and Caroline felt it was all rather eerie as she moved towards the bird-cage which stood beside the shrouded windows.

  The birds were asleep on their perches. She found they had no seed left and very little water. They twittered a little at her approach and were not afraid. She looked at their pretty little blue bodies and wondered if they felt lonely and neglected down here after the warmth and brightness of Lady Brecon’s bedroom

  “Poor little things,” she said aloud. “You are exiled from home, aren’t you?”

  She filled their china dish, then put the packet of seed on the table where nobody could fail to see it in the morning, and decided that she herself would give them fresh water and make sure they were not forgotten in future. She was stroking the tiny birds with the tip of her finger when she heard the door open.

  It was closed again decisively, and turning slowly, she saw Lord Brecon walk across to the fireplace. His-head was bent and she had the instantaneous impression that he was despondent and depressed. He walked to the hearth to stand looking down into the fire, the candle-light turning his hair to gold.

  For a moment or two Caroline watched him. His face was hidden but she felt she knew that his eyes would be heavy, his thoughts concerned with the dark secret which seemed to overshadow him. Suddenly she had an insane desire to walk across to him, to put her arms around him, to draw his head to her breast and comfort him.