Gift Of the Gods

by Barbara Cartland

The Earl laughed.

  “Is that what you are aiming for?”

  “Of course!” Penelope replied. “You must have realised by now that Alisa and I are the Gunning sisters up to date and Elizabeth, the younger one, married two Dukes!”

  The Earl lifted his glass and said with a twinkle in his eyes,

  “May you succeed in your ambitions.”

  As he spoke, Alisa suddenly remembered that Maria, the elder sister, had married an Earl.

  Quickly she pushed back her chair and rose from the table.

  “If you will – excuse me,” she said, “I have a – great many things to – see to – before we go back to London.”

  Without looking at the Earl, she hurried from the room.

  *

  When they arrived home that evening, Penelope said,

  “I must say, Alisa, the Earl was extremely helpful and far nicer than I thought he would be.”

  “He was very kind,” Alisa murmured.

  “It is a pity he is not suitor for your hand,” Penelope went on.

  Her sister did not reply and she added,

  “Major Coombe was telling me that the betting in White’s Club is thirty-to-one against anybody catching the Earl as a husband.”

  “Why is he so – determined to remain – unmarried?” Alisa asked.

  “Apparently he had an unfortunate love affair when he was very young and it made him swear that he would remain a bachelor in spite of the fact that his family have been on their knees for years begging him to marry and produce an heir.”

  “I expect he has – plenty of – women in his life,” Alisa murmured, thinking of Madame Vestris.

  “Of course there are hundreds of lovely ladies pursuing him!” Penelope agreed. “Major Coombe says they flutter round him like bees round a honeypot, but the only things he is married to are his horses and his estate in the country. Has he told you about his house?”

  “No.”

  “It is said to be the most perfect example of Elizabethan architecture in England. That is why he was saying how much he admired Queen Elizabeth.”

  “I – did not – know.”

  “You are so stupid, Alisa!” Penelope complained. “You should ask people about their possessions. You know all men like to talk about themselves and don’t forget that your Duke is interested in horses.”

  Alisa thought she was well aware of that and that she knew so much about the Duke of Exminster’s stables that she might almost own them herself.

  It was just a passing thought, but it made her feel again that strange repugnance which she could not explain.

  She only knew that at the ball tomorrow night she was quite certain he would be waiting not only to dance with her but to talk to her and it was something she must avoid at all costs.

  Because she and Penelope were so closely attuned to each other, her sister knew what she was thinking.

  “Would it not be wonderful, dearest,” she said, “if we both became engaged in the same night to a Duke? That would certainly startle the Beau Monde and all those people who have refused to accept us would be falling over themselves.”

  “Are there such – people? I had no – idea.”

  “Oh, Alisa, your head is always in the clouds,” Penelope complained. “You know quite well that there are dozens of balls that we have not been invited to, simply because we are either too pretty and put the hostess’s plain daughters in the shade or else because they do not consider us really grand enough to enter their exclusive stuck-up circle.”

  Alisa merely looked surprised.

  She had been so grateful to the hostesses who had invited them that she had never troubled to think that there were others who deliberately refrained from doing so.

  She could understand that Penelope, with her ambitions to be important, resented being left out and, if she did marry the Duke of Exminster, there was no doubt that every door in London would be open to them both.

  At the same time, when she thought of the red-faced Duke of Hawkeshead, it seemed impossible to imagine him touching or kissing Penelope, but again she knew that it was something she could not say.

  “Nor do I want the – Duke of Exminster to – kiss me,” she murmured beneath her breath.

  *

  The following day they took the pots to Mrs. Lulworth, who was delighted.

  “I have a dozen ladies waiting for these to arrive,” she said, “and I only hope that they will be as good as the ones you made before.”

  “Of course they are!” Penelope answered.

  “Well, you’ve fulfilled your obligation, Miss Penelope,” Mrs. Lulworth said, “and now you will be delighted to hear that the two new evening gowns are ready except for a few final touches.”

  Alisa looked at Penelope accusingly. She realised that her sister had not waited, but had already ordered the gowns that she thought they both wanted.

  “I should be angry with you, Penelope,” she said when she thought that Mrs. Lulworth was not listening.

  “You ought to be grateful to me!” Penelope retorted. “You will have a new gown to wear tonight and another for the luncheon party tomorrow, which undoubtedly one of the Dukes will give for us.”

  It was impossible for Alisa to reply, because Mrs. Lulworth arrived back with two evening gowns that were practically ready and to Alisa’s consternation two others that required a full fitting.

  There were also two day gowns for each of them. Although she wanted to protest, she felt that it was hopeless and she just had to allow Penelope to have her own way.

  There were bonnets to choose to wear with the day gowns and, while they were being tried on, she learnt the reason why Mrs. Lulworth was in such a good temper.

  It transpired that quite a number of ladies had come to the shop because they had learnt that Mrs. Lulworth had made the gowns that she and Penelope wore.

  The shopkeeper reeled off a list of her new patrons and added,

  “The Marchioness of Conyngham has asked me to attend her tomorrow morning. I am very grateful to you both.”

  “We are so glad you are pleased,” Penelope replied, “but I hope, Mrs. Lulworth, that your gratitude will show itself in the account you render us.”

  Alisa knew that she would never have been able to say such a thing, but Mrs. Lulworth merely smiled and said,

  “I thought you wouldn’t have missed saying something like that, Miss Penelope, and I’ll remember what I owe to you.”

  “Good!” Penelope exclaimed. “In which case I will have another bonnet, but in a different colour, to go with that last gown!”

  When they arrived back in Islington Square there were more bouquets of flowers and more invitations.

  Only as they were going upstairs to their bedrooms to start changing for the evening did Alisa say,

  “Have you written to the Earl to thank him for taking us to the country yesterday?”

  “I have not had time,” Penelope prevaricated, “and anyway, I thought that you could write for both of us.”

  “I wrote and Henderson posted the letter for me,” Alisa said, “but, as it was your idea in the first place, I think you ought to write too.”

  “I doubt if he will notice whether I do or I don’t,” Penelope replied, “and I expect anyway he would prefer a letter from Madame Vestris.”

  Alisa started.

  “What have you – heard about Madame Vestris – and the – Earl?” she questioned.

  “Somebody, I think it was Major Coombe, told me that she had said at some party or another that she judged her success in London by the fact that she had captured the British public and, what was far more difficult, the Earl of Keswick!”

  Alisa did not reply.

  She merely went into her bedroom and wondered why her new gown lying waiting for her on her bed looked so unattractive that she might just as well wear one of her old muslins.

  Penelope had arranged that, as the Duke was giving a party for them, he should also convey them to Hawkeshead House in P
ark Lane.

  By the time they were dressed, a very impressive-looking carriage with the Duke’s coat of arms emblazoned on the doors was waiting for them outside.

  “You look lovely, dearest,” Alisa exclaimed when she saw Penelope wearing her new gown.

  Once again it was white, but there were magnolias round the hem and round the top of the bodice, which revealed Penelope’s white shoulders.

  She wore a wreath of the same flowers on her golden hair and Alisa knew that no tiara, however sparkling, could have been more becoming.

  Penelope looked like a water maiden stepping out from a silver stream and there was something very young, spring-like and lovely about her, which Alisa did not realise was echoed in herself.

  Her gown was also white, but instead of the rather exotic magnolias it was decorated with small bunches of snowdrops and they nestled in the softness of the tulle that encircled her shoulders like a white cloud.

  If Penelope looked spring-like, Alisa was like Persephone, bringing light back to the world after a dark winter.

  She was certainly not as sensational as her sister and yet it would be hard for any man who saw her not to look again and not to find it difficult afterwards to see anybody else.

  She only thought that Penelope looked beautiful and she was content to follow behind her instead of leading the way as she should have done, being the elder.

  “Be careful your wrap does not crush your gown,” Penelope admonished her.

  Then, having said goodnight to their aunt, they hurried down the stairs to where the Duke’s carriage was waiting.

  Only as the horses moved off and they sat back against the comfortable heavily padded seat, did Alisa say hesitatingly,

  “If the Duke does – ask you tonight to – marry him, dearest, please think – seriously before you – accept him.”

  “What is there to think about?” Penelope asked bluntly.

  “Whether you will be – happy with him. After all, he will be your husband and you will be – together for the – rest of your lives.”

  “Can you imagine always having a carriage like this to drive everywhere?” Penelope asked. “To be hostess of his house in Park Lane and his castle in Kent? I believe too that he has half-a-dozen others in other parts of England.”

  “It is not – only what he – owns, but what he is.”

  “A Duke!” Penelope retorted irrepressibly.

  It was hopeless, Alisa decided, to try to explain what she wanted to say. She knew only that she wanted Penelope’s happiness more than anything else in the world, but she could not help thinking it would be very difficult to be happy with the Duke of Hawkeshead.

  Then she found herself thinking of the man Penelope called ‘her Duke’ because she thought that the same applied in her case.

  What did it matter when they were alone together whether he was the Duke of Exminster or just plain Mr? They would be husband and wife and he would also be the father of her children.

  Quite suddenly Alisa knew that she could not marry the Duke, whatever Penelope might say.

  She felt, because she was nervous of seeing him again, that she wanted to stop the coach and get out and run back to Islington. Or, better still, to return to the country so that the Duke would not know where she was and would be unable to find her.

  Then she told herself that she was being very stupid.

  Perhaps he would not propose to her. Perhaps, like the Earl, he hand no intention of marrying anybody and was only being charming in sending her flowers because it was the fashionable thing to do.

  But her intuition told her something else. It was only a question of time before the Duke proposed and, unless she was to be faced with Penelope’s reproaches and anger, she would have to accept him.

  ‘I cannot do so – I cannot!’ she thought despairingly.

  She felt as if the comfortable carriage was taking her not to a ball but to the guillotine.

  Chapter Six

  Looking round the ballroom at Hawkeshead House, Alisa thought that it was the most attractive of all the ballrooms they had danced in.

  In fact the whole house was extremely impressive and, from the moment they had entered through the front door, she had felt that Penelope was thinking what a perfect background it would be for her as a Duchess.

  She thought that the double staircase was in itself like a stage-set for a woman to look her best, as she ascended to where the Duke was receiving his guests with his mother beside him.

  The Dowager’s jewels, including a huge tiara that was almost like a crown on her head, seemed to be a glittering inducement to every girl who saw it.

  But Alisa thought that they would also have to include the Duke in their consideration.

  The way His Grace received Penelope was extremely revealing.

  He was looking, Alisa reflected, even more red-faced and unprepossessing than usual.

  She tried to feel charitable towards him because he might become her brother-in-law, but she noticed that his cravat was already wilting, one of his decorations was crooked and his silk stocking had a run in it.

  ‘Perhaps he needs a wife to look after him,’ she thought and was very glad that it would not be her task.

  The reception room was decorated with orchids and lilies, but the ballroom, obviously as a compliment to Penelope, was a bower of pink roses.

  All along one side of the house there were long French windows that opened out onto a garden, which as usual was lit by Chinese lanterns and fairy lights.

  Tonight they were all pink and Alisa thought that the Duke was certainly declaring his intentions to all the world.

  She did not say anything to Penelope, but she saw that there was a gleam of excitement in her sister’s eyes and, when the Duke invited her to be his partner for the first dance, she knew that the Dowagers seated round the ballroom were already aware of who would be the new Duchess.

  Alisa noticed too that there were many different faces from those she had seen at the other parties they had attended.

  She had an idea that the Duke and his mother moved in a Society loyal to the old King and Queen that was more sedate that the fashionable Beau Monde, who had circled round the Prince Regent when he lived at Carlton House.

  Now, Alisa thought, they would certainly wish to be in favour with George IV and undoubtedly would be only too eager to grace the Coronation in July.

  “What are you thinking about?” asked the Duke of Exminster, who was partnering her in the first dance.

  “The Coronation.”

  He laughed.

  “Does anybody think of anything else at the moment?”

  “You are not looking forward to it?”

  “Most certainly not! As far as I am concerned it will be a long drawn out bore! It is only women and, of course, the King, who enjoy all that dressing up and the endless pomp and ceremonial.”

  As the Duke spoke, his eyes were on Alisa’s hair and it suddenly struck her that he might be thinking that the Exminster strawberry leaves would become her.

  Quickly she looked away from him and, as she did so, she saw the King arriving, accompanied by the Marchioness of Conyngham and behind them several younger men, one of whom was the Earl of Keswick.

  She felt her heart leap in an uncomfortable manner, but she could not help staring at him, realising that as usual he was looking bored and cynical.

  The King, however, was greeting the Duchess of Hawkeshead effusively and, with the Duchess on his right and the Marchioness on his left, he sat down on a sofa that stood on a raised dais, from where he could watch the dancing.

  The gentlemen in attendance ranged themselves behind him and, as Alisa had no wish for the Earl to see her, she said quickly to the Duke,

  “It’s very hot, shall we go into the garden?”

  “I think that is a very sensible suggestion,” he replied.

  They walked through one of the open windows and the pink lanterns glowed against the dark branches of the trees while the stars
overhead were just coming out.

  It was certainly very romantic, but, as she thought of it, Alisa remembered that she had no wish to be alone with the Duke.

  However, it was too late to retrace her steps and she realised that he was leading her away from the lights of the house.

  As usual when a ball was given where there was a garden, there were little alcoves and secluded seats where two people could talk intimately.

  Alisa stopped.

  “We must not go too – far,” she said. “I have not seen Penelope for – some time.”

  “I feel certain that your sister can look after herself.”

  “As my aunt is not with us this evening,” Alisa replied, “I have to chaperone Penelope, who is younger than I.”

  “I can think of a better way for you to do that,” the Duke replied.

  As he spoke, he took Alisa by the arm and led her from the lighted path over the lawn to where there was a seat under an ash tree.

  Alisa was just about to say that she would like to go back to the ballroom when the music stopped and those who had been dancing came pouring out through the lighted windows into the garden.

  There was nothing she could do but sit down on the seat the Duke had chosen and she could see apprehensively that there were no other seats near them.

  They were in the shadow of the boughs and to all intents and purposes alone.

  Frantically she tried to think of how she could prevent him from saying what she was sure was in his mind, but, while she was still trying to find the words, the Duke said,

  “You are much too young, Alisa, to have to look after anybody, but if you wish to look after your sister more competently than you can at the moment, I suggest that the best way to do so would be to marry me!”

  For a moment there was silence while Alisa tried to grasp the fact that she had received the proposal that she had been anticipating he might make and which Penelope had been insistent that she should accept.

  Her head felt as if it were filled with cotton wool, her throat seemed constricted, and she could do nothing but twist her fingers together.

  “I know we have not known each other for very long,” the Duke went on, “but from the first moment I sat beside you at dinner I knew that you were not only beautiful but clever and everything I wanted in my wife. We will be very happy.”