An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition

by Cartland, Barbara

  “Come here!”

  He spoke the order once again, and now she obeyed him. As she moved, she saw the wildness in his eyes and an expression on his face such as she had never seen before. She drew close until at last she stood before him, waiting, her robe falling about her feet, her hands holding the thin pelisse close across her bosom.

  “I had not meant to come to you tonight,” Lord Brecon said harshly. ‘I had intended to leave you alone, and yet I have come. I want to see if you can still look at me with innocent eyes, you who have lied and intrigued, you who have betrayed my love.”

  “But, Vane – you must listen to me – ” Caroline began then before she could say more Lord Brecon put out his hand and laid it roughly over her mouth.

  “I told you I have come but to see you, to look at the pretty bride I have gained - a bride who has already succumbed, it seems, to the charms of Sir Montage Reversby.”

  Caroline released her hold on her pelisse, put up her hands and tried to tear his fingers from her mouth.

  “It is not true, – ” she managed to say, and then suddenly Lord Brecon’s arms were round her and he was drawing her close.

  “Are kisses the only thing that will stop you talking?” he asked, and his voice was bitter and insulting.

  Then she was crushed against him, his mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her - kissing her wildly with hard, brutal kisses which hurt and bruised her lips. It was a moment of agony it seemed to her, that his kisses must bruise her very spirit, for she knew them for what they were the cruel and lustful expression of a mere bodily hunger.

  They hurt her, they bruised her skin and the pain of them seemed to strike into the very depths of her soul and paralyse her very will so that she could not struggle but, broken and breathless, must endure his onslaught without protest. She wanted to cry out, to beg him not to strip from her the last illusion of his love, but her voice was gone. She was helpless and the savagery of his embrace was almost unendurable. She was near to fainting when she heard him say,

  “It that how Reversby kissed you? Like this? and this?”

  His lips were on hers again, and then she felt them cruelly hard against her neck. His fingers gripped her shoulder then with a sharp movement he tore aside her night-robe, and his lips caressed the little hollow between her breasts.

  He gave a sudden cry which was half a groan - a cry both of triumph and of pain.

  “God, but you are beautiful!” he exclaimed, and his voice was low and hoarse with passion. “Why should I care what has happened to you in the past? You are mine now – mine – my wife.”

  He swept her off her feet, lifting her high in his arms. The firelight revealed his face, distorted, diabolical, and it seemed to her that it was the face of a man who has suffered beyond all endurance, and become a devil.

  Then, as she cried out in a fear such as she had never known before, he carried her across the room towards the shadowy darkness of the great bed.

  “Vane! Vane!” she cried. “Do not frighten me. I love you. Oh, Vane, spare me!”

  Her voice was hardly audible as it came between her bruised lips and yet he must have heard her, for he paused, looking down at her as she lay in his arms, her head flung back, her torn night-robe revealing her nakedness, her pelisse trailing from her on to the floor.

  “Please, Vane. Please!” Caroline whispered again, and now she was sobbing like a child who has been frightened.

  The expression on his face altered and she knew that he had heard her.

  With a sudden movement, so unexpected that she screamed in sheer, physical terror, Lord Brecon threw Caroline from him and on to the bed. She fell helplessly against the softness of the pillows. Then with a sound too inarticulate for her to interpret he turned, from her and left the room.

  10

  When Maria called her in the morning, Caroline was sitting at the bureau writing. As Maria set down a cup of chocolate beside her, Caroline said,

  “Take this letter and arrange to have a groom carry it immediately to Mandrake. I would not have Mrs. Edgmont learn of my marriage from other sources before I inform her of it myself.”

  Maria gulped.

  “Oh, m’lady,” she said, and Caroline, looking up in surprise, saw that there were tears in her eyes.

  “Why, Maria,” she asked, “what has upset you?”

  “‘Tis not that I’m upset for myself, m’lady,” Maria replied, ‘‘but for you – for your ladyship.”

  “Why?” Caroline asked. “What has occurred?”

  “‘Tis only something I’ve heard this very instant,” Maria answered, wiping her eyes.

  “Well, tell me,” Caroline commanded.

  “Twas his lordship’s valet who told me,” Maria said.

  Caroline’s face which was already pale, seemed to be suddenly drained of all colour.

  “Has anything happened to his lordship?”

  “Oh no, m’lady, ‘nothing – serious,” Maria cried out, “but it was such a shock to learn that his lordship has just returned from riding. The valet told me that his horse was ordered late last night and he must have been riding ever since. They say in the stables that the poor animal was so tired that they had almost to carry it to its stall. Oh, m’lady, me thought that you were so happy.”

  Caroline rose to her feet and walked slowly from the desk towards the window. After a moment she said in a cold, distant tone very unlike her usual friendliness,

  “That is enough Maria. Take the letter as I have commanded you. I will ring the bell when I need you again.”

  Ordinarily Maria would have expostulated at such an abrupt dismissal, but there was something about Caroline this morning which forbad any argument. Still wiping her eyes, Maria went from the room and Caroline was alone again.

  Her eyes were heavy for want of sleep, for she had been awake all night staring into the darkness. She shivered now and seemed not to feel the glitter of the sun’s rays as they shone on the casement and bathed the garden below.

  She stood looking out for a long time. It almost seemed as if she had been turned to stone, for she made no movement and her breath came so softly that it barely ruffled the laces at her breast. She was conscious only of feeling cold, for the agony of mind through which she had passed in the night had left her drained of all emotion, depleted of everything save a sense of utter impotency. It was as if her thoughts themselves were paralysed, and as she stood there she wondered if she would ever be capable of feeling. anything again.

  There came a knock at the door, but Caroline did not answer it. Someone knocked again and then, when there was still no reply, went away.

  With the same sense of detachment Caroline sat in her room all the morning. It was long after midday when Maria returned without having been summoned.

  “Oh, m’lady, let me bring you something to eat,” she pleaded.

  “If it please you,” Caroline said indifferently.

  “You will make yourself ill, m’lady. Let me dress you, and if you take a turn in the gardens ‘twill perhaps bring back the colour to your cheeks.”

  “No, I will stay here,” Caroline replied.

  Maria left her and returned shortly with a tray laden with tempting dishes but when she saw the food, Caroline felt a nausea come over her and she pushed the tray away, the delicacies untouched.

  “Oh, please, m’lady, try to eat a mouthful,” Maria begged her, but Caroline shook her head.

  “I am not hungry, Maria,” she said in a voice utterly without feeling.

  Maria picked up the tray and set it on one side.

  “There is a much-a-do downstairs, m’lady,” she said conversationally, as if she hoped to tempt Caroline into taking an interest. “The guests are all leaving.”

  “Why?” Caroline enquired, without any spark of interest in her voice.

  “ ‘Twould have been without decency for them to linger, m’lady, with you and his lordship wed. By tonight I understand there will be only Mr. Warlingham left and of course
, Lady Augusta and Mrs. Miller.”

  “So Mr Warlingham is remaining,” Caroline said, a faint inflection of interest creeping into her tone.

  Maria nodded.

  “Yes, m’lady and I hear that the gentleman is in a fearful temper. Carried to bed he was last night by the footman, for he imbibed, so they say, until he fell under the card table.”

  Caroline sat pensive. Maria sighed. It seemed nothing would arouse her mistress today.

  She took up the tray and opened the bedroom door. There was obviously someone outside for Caroline heard voices then Maria came hurrying back to the room.

  “A message from his lordship, m’lady,” she said. “He begs to inform your ladyship that the last of his guests will have departed by three of the clock and he will then await your ladyship in the Library.”

  Caroline stared at Maria as if she were not quite certain she had heard the message aright, then swiftly a transformation seemed to take place. The colour came back into her cheeks, a light shone in her eyes, gone was her languor and the cold indifference of the morning.

  “Three o’clock, did you say?” she asked, and her lips curved over the words as if they were very precious. “Then I have time for a bath, Maria, and bring me back that tray. I am hungry.”

  The grandfather clock in the hall was striking-pretentiously as Caroline came down the Grand Staircase from her room. The Castle was strangely quiet after the noise and bustle of the day before and it seemed to Caroline more gloomy than ever. Without the lighted tapers which dispersed much of the darkness of the hall the oak panelling with its suits of armour created the usual atmosphere of ponderous mystery. Caroline thought that she had never noticed before how a sudden chill seemed to rise from the marble floor and it occurred to her that in the winter the whole Castle must be a place of bitter cold.

  She went down the passage towards the Library. The door was closed. She hesitated for a moment before she turned the handle. Her heart was beating fast and yet she was not really afraid. She was prepared to believe now that the events of last night had been but a nightmare. Perhaps she had exaggerated them, perhaps they had been but a figment of her imagination. It was Vane she was going to see, Vane whom she loved and who she knew deep in his heart loved her – Vane who was her husband.

  For a moment she looked down as if in confirmation at the emerald signet ring encircling, the third finger of her left hand. Vane’s ring, the ring which was a symbol of come what may - the fact that he was hers and she was his. Caroline took a deep breath and raised the ring to her lips then lifting her head high she turned the handle of the Library door.

  Lord Brecon was standing with his back to the fireplace, facing the door. Caroline had a moment’s impression that he had been impatiently waiting for her coming, yet his face did not lighten at her approach and her heart sank to see that his eyes were brooding and there was a frown on his forehead.

  “Your servant, Caroline,” he said briefly.

  She dropped him a little curtsey from the doorway.

  “Good-day, Vane,” she said in a voice that was far calmer than her feelings. “I understand that our guests have left.”

  “Our, guests?” he queried, then added quickly, “Yes, of course, our guests. They have gone.”

  She moved across the room until she stood beside him and raised her eyes to his. They were soft with desire, but he did not look at her, did not speak, and at length she prompted softly,

  “You sent for me, Vane, you wanted to see me?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Come! I have something to show you.”

  He turned and walked towards the door, holding it open for her to precede him. Wondering a little, she obeyed. When she reached the passage, she looked up at him questioningly.

  “This way,” he said sharply and turned not towards the hall but down the passage they had taken the night before when they walked to the Chapel.

  For a moment Caroline thought that it was to the Chapel Lord Brecon was leading her. Why she had no idea and for a moment the wild thought came to her that perhaps he wished to revoke the vows they had made before the altar. But they went on past the Chapel doors, down the passage which grew narrower and darker.

  They walked for some way until they came to a heavy door, it had huge iron hinges and was studded with iron nails. To Caroline’s surprise, it was locked, but Lord Brecon drew a key from his pocket. He opened the door and they passed through it, after which he locked it again behind him.

  Some steps led down to a stone-paved hall on the other side of which was a winding stairway. Caroline looked around her and realised that she was in one of the towers. There was no mistaking the heavy Norman architecture, the slender arrow slits through which little light could penetrate.

  “Forgive me if I precede you,” Lord Brecon said, and walking into the hall he crossed it and went down yet another passage which ended with another locked door.

  The whole place was chill and damp and, as far as Caroline could see, was unused. But when Lord Brecon opened the further door she had a surprise.

  They stood looking into an almost identical stone hall, but this one was furnished. There were mats over the flags, oak chests were arranged round the walls and a fire was lit in a big stone fireplace. Again Lord Brecon preceded her, and crossing the hall, started to climb the stairs. As he did so, an old man, white-haired and in an ancient livery, which seemed to be too big for him unless he had shrunk, came hurrying through a doorway.

  “Ah, m’lord! I was a-wondering who it could be!” he exclaimed.

  “It is all right, Miggs,” Lord Brecon said. “I will find my own way upstairs.”

  “I hope I sees your lordship well,” the old man remarked, anxious, Caroline guessed, to hold Lord Brecon in conversation.

  “Well enough,” Lord Brecon replied, “and how is Mrs. Miggs?”

  “Poorly, poorly, m’lord, though she’ll be gratified to know that your lordship enquired for her. ‘Tis her chest, m’lord. She doesn’t seem to throw off her cough, though that ain’t no surprise, for the moat makes these lower rooms terrible damp. As I’ve informed your lordship often enough, we shall be having the water right into the place one of these fine days.”

  “Yes, yes, you have told me that, before,” Lord Brecon said impatiently, and proceeded to climb the stairs, leaving the old man grumbling beneath his breath.

  The stairs were narrow and twisting. They were carpeted, but Caroline could see that they were of rough hewn stone like the staircase in the other tower. They ended abruptly on a narrow landing which was faced by one door. Lord Brecon knocked on it and a voice bade them enter.

  Lord Brecon opened the door. For a moment Caroline was too surprised to notice anything save the sunshine - it was streaming through two large windows which had been built into the south side of the tower. Then as she blinked her eyes, a little dazzled after the darkness of the passages and stairway, she saw that a woman had risen from where she had been sitting beside a fireplace protected with a nursery guard.

  She was a pleasant-faced, elderly woman, wearing a grey dress a mob-cap and the frilled apron of a child’s nurse. She curtsied to Lord Brecon.

  “Good-afternoon, your lordship. This is indeed an unexpected pleasure.”

  “How are you, Nanny?” Lord Brecon asked, and then turning his, head as if he looked for something or somebody, he added, “And how is Cassy?”

  “Not so well today,” Nanny said in a low tone, then raising her voice she called, “Come along Miss Cassy dear, don’t be shy. Here are visitors to see you.”

  She was looking towards the window-seat, Caroline noticed, and following her gaze, she saw that someone was hiding behind one of the heavy pink curtains which draped the window. The curtain quivered, and very slowly someone emerged. It was with difficulty that Caroline prevented herself from uttering a scream - it was indeed only her breeding and up-bringing which gave her the self-control to bite back the sound even as it reached her lips.

  Coming from th
e curtains was a creature more monstrous than anything she had ever beheld. It was the height of a child, being only a few feet tall, but its head was huge and distorted, with a great bulging forehead from which the hair hung lankly over flattened and deformed ears. Its body reached almost to the ground, its legs were, like two sticks, and its arms, although also thin and spidery, ended in large white hands with fat and stumpy fingers. It had thick lips to its big mouth, and its eyes were small and unexpectedly bright.

  It was all the more frightening, because the creature was dressed neatly and even prettily in girl’s clothes. Its dress of white muslin trimmed with pink ribbons, seemed somehow to make a travesty of the fantastic body, and the pink bow tidying the coarse hair would have been ludicrous had it not been pitiable. The girl - if girl it was - lumbered across the room, her hands hanging at her sides, her fingers outstretched.

  “Hullo, Cassy,” Lord Brecon said to her. “Do you remember me?”

  Cassy stared at him, before saying in a high, whining voice,

  “Cassy wants the dicky-bird.”

  “Now, Miss Cassy,” Nanny said sharply, “that’s enough of that. I have told you before you are not to talk about it. ‘Tis very naughty.”

  “Cassy wants to squeeze the dicky-bird,” the child repeated. “Cassy wants to squeeze it ‘til the blood comes – ‘til the blood runs over Cassy’s fingers – , nice dicky-bird ! Cassy wants to feel its warm blood drip, drip, drip!”

  “That’s very naughty,” Nanny scolded. “Now go and find your dolly, dearie, and forget about the dicky-bird. Do as I tell you, at once.”

  Obediently Cassy turned towards a cupboard in the far corner of the room. The doors were open and Caroline could see that it was full of toys of all sorts and descriptions. Cassy went to it, pulled out a doll by its skirt and held it head downwards towards the ground.

  “Cassy wants the dicky-bird,” she repeated in a fierce undertone. “Cassy wants to feel its blood drip – drip.”

  She looked towards her nurse as she spoke, and there was an expression of such evil cunning in the tiny eyes that once again Caroline almost cried out. Then a stream of saliva ran from the open mouth down the fat chin and the high voice continued defiantly