An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition

by Cartland, Barbara

  “Enough!” Lord Brecon answered, “enough to know that you have lied to me. Who are you?”

  “I am Caroline Faye.”

  “And why are you here?”

  “I answered that question last night,” Caroline replied. ‘Oh, Vane, I came because, as I told you then, I love you.”

  “Love me?” he asked, and his voice was bitter. “A strange sort of love. What were you doing that night in the wood?”

  “You must have already, heard what your cousin said,” Caroline answered. “I was brought to The Dog and Duck by a trick. I was enticed there by a gentleman whom I admit now I should have known better than to trust. I was a fool to have realised before what sort of a man he was, but I escaped from him and you found me. That is all!”

  “And the man’s name?” Lord Brecon spoke in a tone which seemed to freeze the very air they breathed.

  “You know it already,” Caroline said and went towards him. “Vane, I was going to tell you everything in my own good time. I did not wish you to hear it like this.”

  She put out her hand and would have touched Lord Brecon on the arm, but he gripped her wrist and his fingers dug deep into her flesh.

  “Answer me,” he said. “What was the man’s name?”

  “It was – Montagu - Reversby,” Caroline faltered. “But, Vane -”

  “That swine!” Lord Brecon interrupted. “That curst outsider who has already besmirched Melissa with his foulness. And you associated yourself with him, went with him willingly at night to a place where you would be alone.”

  “It is not true,” Caroline said swiftly, “He told me that there was to be a -”

  “Be quiet,” Lord Brecon said so savagely that for a moment Caroline was stunned into silence. “You have told me enough lies. I trusted you, I believed in you, and God knows I could not help but love you - and all the time you were deceiving me, pretending to be a companion to my mother, worming your way into my house, setting your snares, making me believe in you so that I was prepared to sacrifice everything for you - yes, everything I held dear.”

  “Oh, Vane,” Caroline said, twisting her wrist a little to try and free it from his grasp. “Oh, Vane, do let me explain.”

  “I want none of your, explanations,” Lord ‘Brecon said. “I am thinking of what to do with you. Love! You prate to me of love and what do you know of it? Lady Caroline Faye, the spoilt darling of a London Season, anxious to add yet another scalp to her collection, eager to boast she had gained the heart of a dolt who was so foolish as to love her.”

  “But, Vane, if you would only let me -”

  “No, you shall not speak,” Lord Brecon said. “Those lips have uttered too many devilish falsehoods, instead you shall listen to me, yes, to me. Hear then what I have, to say.”

  He wrenched Caroline’s arm so that she twisted round to confront him. She looked up into his face and was suddenly terribly afraid. His eyes were no longer cold and steely, instead they were burning pools of anger. She saw that he was possessed by a fury which made him blind and deaf to all save his own anger. Never in the whole of her life had she seen a man so enraged, and because it was Vane, because it was the man she loved, she could not think what to do but must stand there trembling, her whole body quivering beneath the tempest of his fury.

  “You came here intent on deception,” he said slowly, each word a separate weapon with which to wound her. “Your lips uttered a thousand lies, your tongue was twisted with perjury. You made me believe you loved me. Doubtless it was some of your friends in London who think it but a light thing to take a man’s heart and torture it. You led me on to speak to you of my love, you duped me, enticed me into the trap you had prepared so skilfully. You laughed at the finest action of my life when, thinking only of you, I tried to drive you from this house. God knows I wanted you to stay, I wanted to make you mine, I wanted to accept all that you offered me so readily with your lips. But because I was decent, because I believed in you and your innocence, I tried to send you away. You would not go when you could. You defied me, you refused to heed my warning. Well now, by God, you shall stay.”

  Caroline stared at him in bewilderment.

  “You shall stay,” he repeated through clenched teeth. “I will make sure of that. You shall learn, Lady Caroline Faye, that it is not always wise to trifle with a man’s affections. Come with me!”

  Still holding her by the wrist, he turned and walked towards the door of the drawing-room.

  “Vane, Vane, where are we going?” Caroline cried, but he did not answer.

  Moving beside him because he held her prisoner, Caroline was conscious of the painful pressure of his fingers and of a strength and purpose which was irresistible. There was no gain-saying him, no possibility of her doing anything but obey his wishes as he led her swiftly across the drawing-room.

  There were a few people sitting round on the sofas and they looked up in surprise but Lord Brecon paid no need to them and led the way, pulling Caroline after him, into the long ballroom where the majority of the guests were assembled. Some were waltzing, others were sitting round the walls watching the dancers while a footman offered them glasses of champagne and iced punch.

  Breathless with bewilderment and from the speed at which he had brought her here and conscious of a sudden fear of him, Caroline could only gasp as Lord Brecon went up to the band and held up his hand for silence. The musicians ceased playing, the dancers brought to an abrupt stop, stared around them in astonishment.

  “My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,” Lord Brecon said in a voice which echoed to the furthest corner of the room. “I have an announcement to make. I have this evening - but a few moments ago - become engaged to be married. I have the honour to present to you my betrothed, the Lady Caroline Faye.”

  There was a murmur of astonishment around the room, then a sudden hubbub of voices.

  “Good luck to you, Brecon! Best of good wishes!”

  Everyone surged forward to offer their congratulations. Glasses were raised, and then above the general hubbub the loud voice of a red-faced hunting Squire cried,

  “Here’s long life to you both, tell us, Vane, me boy, when will the marriage take place?”

  There was a sudden hush as if everyone waited for the answer. Lord Brecon released his hold on Caroline’s arm. He looked down at her and she was aware that the fire was still burning in his eyes, that his lips curved bitterly in the travesty of a smile.

  “That is indeed a vastly important question,” he said, “and I will answer it. I would wish you all to be present at my marriage. Lady Caroline and I will wed tonight. My Lord Bishop will, I know, grant us a special licence and perform the ceremony.”

  There was a sudden gasp, then the hubbub and roar of voices broke out again.

  Lord Brecon bent towards Caroline. She knew that he asked her a question, she could not hear what he said, but she saw the expression on his face and was aware that he taunted her. She lifted her chin and the lovely rounded column of her neck seemed in her pride to grow longer, so that her dignity was very apparent to all who watched her. In her heart she was frightened, but she fought against the sudden stabbing of her fear and there was no trace of it on her face.

  Without a tremor in her voice and clearly so that her words were audible above the noise of the crowd, she said,

  “Yes, I will marry you, my lord, here, this very night.”

  9

  It seemed to Caroline that everything became hazy and indistinct. There were faces all round her, faces which seemed to float dizzily in front of her eyes. There were voices exclaiming, questioning, praising, jesting, hands touched hers, lips brushed her fingers, persons pressed in upon her until she felt as if it was all part of a nightmare from which she could not awake.

  Then at last she was conscious of one person individually. Someone portly and resplendent in purple, the great jewelled cross on his chest twinkling from the light of the chandelier over his head. It was the Bishop.

  “What is this I h
ear of a betrothal?” he asked, and his voice boomed out resonant and challenging as if he spoke from a pulpit.

  “May I present Lady Caroline Faye, my lord, who has honoured me with the promise of her hand in marriage?” Lord Brecon asked.

  Caroline made a deep curtsey.

  “Vulcan’s daughter?” the Bishop questioned. “Then let me indeed congratulate you, my dear boy, I have stayed at Mandrake - a magnificent place, one might almost say a palace. And the table set by the Marquis is a most treasured memory.”

  “I am grateful that your lordship was not disappointed in my home,” Caroline murmured.

  “I must pay my respects to your father and mother Lady Caroline,” the Bishop said affably, “and tell them this betrothal has both my approval and my blessing.”

  “Will you come with me into another room, my lord, where we can speak quietly?” Lord Brecon asked and when the Bishop acquiesced, they moved slowly, the three of them, across the ballroom towards the door which led into the hall. .

  Just as they reached it, Mrs. Miller appeared. Caroline thought that she must have been in the card-room and had only just heard the news, for there was an expression of astonishment on her face and the crimson feathers on her head were fluffed sideways as if she had been hurrying.

  “They tell me, lord – ” she started, but Lord Brecon interrupted her.

  “You are the very person I wish to see, Mrs. Miller. Give instructions that the Chapel be opened immediately.”

  “The Chapel?” Mrs. Miller’s mouth dropped open for a minute and then she said quickly, “But, m’lord, ‘tis impossible. It has not been in use for years. Things are stored there and – ”

  Lord Brecon gave her one look which silenced the spate of words tumbling from her lips.

  “I said immediately, Mrs Miller,” he said, and they passed on, leaving her gasping after them.

  As they reached the hall, Caroline felt a sudden faintness sweep over her.

  “Will you excuse me, my lord?” she asked, “for I would retire to my room.”

  “As your ladyship wishes,” Lord Brecon replied with a courtesy which was curiously belied by the expression in his eyes.

  “I will arrange that you are informed when my Lord Bishop is ready to perform the ceremony. I collect that will be about midnight.”

  Caroline could only drop a curtsey and then, move slowly away up the stairs, holding on to the banister. When she reached her bedchamber, the faintness passed but she had been there only a few seconds before there was the sound of feet hurrying down the passage. Maria almost burst into the room.

  “Oh, m’lady, I have but this instant heard the news. Is it a fact, m’lady, that you are indeed to wed his lordship this very night? I can barely credit my own ears.”

  Caroline held up her hand.

  “It is true, Maria, but I do not want to speak of it for the moment, I want to think.”

  “Oh, m’lady, there is so little time! When one of the footmen came running out to the servants’ hall shouting what he had heard, I was too dumbfounded to do ought but gape at him. The place is in regular turmoil. A wedding in the house. Why – ”

  “Oh, Maria, cease your prattle,” Caroline begged wearily.

  “But, m’lady, what will they think on it at Mandrake? What indeed will they say when they hear of your ladyship being wed at such an hour and in the house of a stranger? Oh, m’lady, think again. Wait until we have sent word to his lordship on the Continent, for I declare I would not dare to face his anger when he hears how this occurred behind his back, so to speak.”

  Caroline was not listening to Maria. She was standing very still, her hands raised to her cheeks, her eyes far away. Then at last she turned and without a word went from the bedchamber down the passage and to the door of Lady Brecon’s bedroom.

  It was already late and she was afraid that her ladyship might be asleep, but in response to a light knock she heard a low, sweet voice reply instantly and bid her enter. She went into the room.

  It was in darkness save for the light of two candles by the bedside, and Lady Brecon was lying back against her pillows, a book lying open beneath her hand as if she had been reading.

  “Forgive me for disturbing you, Ma’am,” Caroline said as she drew near to the bedside.

  “What is it, child?” Lady Brecon enquired.

  Caroline stood for a moment in silence. There was an expression on her face which caused Lady Brecon to ask.

  “You are in trouble Miss Fry? Can I not help you?”

  “I have something to tell your ladyship,” Caroline answered in a very low voice, “but it is hard to put into words.”

  Lady Brecon put out her hand invitingly, and slowly but almost reluctantly Caroline gave hers into the older woman’s sympathetic clasp,

  “But how cold you are, my dear!” Lady Brecon exclaimed. “And why are you trembling? Has somebody frightened you?”

  “No, I am not afraid,” Caroline said quietly. “It is only that I am a trifle overwrought. Your ladyship will understand why when I tell you that your son, his lordship, has but this moment announced to the assembled company downstairs that he and I are to be wed at midnight.”

  “Wed!” Lady Brecon exclaimed.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Caroline answered, “and that is not all. I must confess to your ladyship that I have deceived you. I am not Caroline Fry, but Caroline Faye, daughter of the Marquis and Marchioness of Vulcan. I came here and solicited your kindness under false pretences. I can only ask your ladyship to forgive me and to believe that there was a very good reason for my deception.”

  “And will you tell me that reason?” Lady Brecon asked quietly.

  For one moment Caroline was tempted to pour out the whole story, to relate to Lady Brecon her fears and suspicions of foul play, of her premonition of danger and her conviction that Lord Brecon had enemies who would deprive him of his very life. Then, even as her lips parted to begin her tale, she remembered Lady Brecon’s fragility and Dorcas’ constant and unceasing care of her. She might be far less strong than she appeared and to learn that her only son was in grave danger might be shock enough to kill her.

  Swiftly Caroline made up her mind to be discreet.

  “I cannot, as I would wish, relate to you the whole story, Ma’am,” she said quietly. “Will it suffice to tell you that I came here because I love your son? I have loved him since we first met.”

  Lady Brecon’s face softened.

  “Then that, dear child, is all that, matters. And Vane loves you?”

  “I believe that he does,” Caroline replied.

  “In which case I am happy,” Lady Brecon said, clasping Caroline’s hand very tightly in hers. “I have prayed for so long that Vane would find someone to love and that in return she would love him, not for his possessions or indeed for his looks, but for himself. I may be prejudiced, but in my opinion Vane is a very fine and a very lovable person. I have always desired that he should find a wife who would take care of him.”

  Caroline raised her eyes wonderingly.

  “Then you are not angry with me?” she asked.

  “Not in the least. I liked you from the first moment that I saw your pretty face and in the very short time that you have been here I have grown to love you. I know of no one to whom I would rather trust my son’s happiness.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  Caroline bent her head suddenly and kissed the hand that held hers.

  “My dear,” Lady Brecon exclaimed, and there were tears in her eyes, “kiss me properly.”

  Caroline’s lips touched the soft, delicate cheek then as Lady Brecon relinquished her hand, she said,

  “I am indeed deeply honoured, Ma’am, that you should trust me.”

  “I am convinced that I can do so,” Lady Brecon said. “I am not even questioning the reason for such haste. I will not even say that it seems to me unseemly, for you and Vane must follow the dictates of your own hearts. I shall but pray for you both.”

  There
was something in her sweet simplicity which brought a sudden sob to Caroline’s throat.

  “Oh, Ma’am, you are too kind. It is more than I deserve.”

  “No, Caroline, don’t say that, for if, as you have told me, you have done this because you love Vane, then indeed I understand. We are all capable of strange deeds and indeed great ones when they are done for someone whom we love truly and with all our hearts.”

  Her words awakened an echo in Caroline’s memory.

  “Why, Ma’am, my father said much the same thing to me. He said any sacrifice is worthwhile, no risk is too great, if it is for someone we love.”

  “Your father was right,” Lady’ Brecon said softly, “No risk is too great.”

  “Then I know I am doing what is right,” Caroline said. “Thank you, Ma’am. And now I must leave you.”

  “One moment.” Lady Brecon said. “Will you pull the bell cord, my dear?”

  Caroline did as she was told. She heard the faint sound of its tinkle in the next room. The communicating door between the bedrooms opened almost instantly and Dorcas, fully dressed, came into the room. Lady Brecon glanced at her maid and saw the answer to her unspoken question on her face.

  “So you have heard, Dorcas? Bring me the family veil for her ladyship and also my jewel case.”

  Dorcas lit a taper from the glowing embers of the fire and, held it to the candles on the mantelshelf. The warm golden light dispelled the shadows. From a big chest at the further end of the room she brought to the bed something packed carefully in white paper.

  “This is the family veil, my dear,” Lady Brecon exclaimed. “I would like you to wear it when you wed Vane, for I wore it myself, as have many generations of Brecon brides.”

  “I would like to wear it,” Caroline said simply.

  Again Dorcas crossed the room and this time she returned with a big square jewel case covered in blue leather and embossed with Lady Brecon’s initials surmounted by a coronet. She placed it beside the bed and gave her ladyship the key.

  “It is many years since I even saw my jewels, let alone wore them,” Lady Brecon said. “These are my own. The family gems are kept in safety at a bank in London.”