60 The Duchess Disappeared

by Barbara Cartland

She knew that she wanted, with an intensity that frightened her, for him to kiss her as he had kissed her the night before.

  Once again, as if he knew what she was thinking, he raised his eyes to look at her and say,

  “That is what I want too and, because we both feel like this, my precious one, I shall have to send you away.”

  It was something she had not expected him to say and Fiona gave a little cry.

  “No, no! You cannot do – that!”

  “Do you think I can let you stay?” he asked. “You know already how uncontrollable I can be.”

  “At least I should – see you,” Fiona whispered.

  “Would that be enough for either of us?” he asked, “I want you! I want you as my wife. I want you in my arms now at this moment and every night for the rest of my life. Do you really believe, loving you as I do, that I could keep my distance?”

  As he spoke, he relinquished her hand and rose from the sofa.

  As if he could not bear to look at her, he walked towards the window to stand staring out with unseeing eyes.

  Fiona did not move, she only clasped her hands together and, as she did so, she could still feel the pressure of his lips on her skin.

  “I cannot – go!” she whispered. “I cannot – leave you.”

  “You have to, my sweet. Give me a few days and I will make the excuse that Mary-Rose needs a fuller education than we can give her here. Then you can go to Edinburgh. I have a house there which can be opened for you and you will find plenty of people glad to entertain you.”

  Even as he spoke, he brought his clenched fist down sharply on the windowsill.

  “And there will be men!” he exclaimed. “Men who will be blinded by your beauty as I have been! God, how can I think of it?”

  There was so much pain beneath the words that Fiona rose from the sofa and moved to stand beside him.

  “Everything is – moving too – fast,” she said. “Please don’t make – plans yet. Let us have time to think.”

  “What is there to think about?” he asked harshly.

  “That we love each other.”

  “I have told you that that is something I dare not consider – not unless you wish me to behave like the barbarian you thought me to be when you came North.”

  “I did not think that,” Fiona contradicted him, “and I don’t think that you would behave like one now.”

  She spoke softly and he turned to look at her, standing with her eyes raised to his, the light from the window revealing the clarity of her skin and the softness of her parted lips.

  “If you look at me like that,” he said hoarsely, “I swear, if I was married to a thousand women, I would still take you and make you mine as you were intended to be.”

  The passion in his voice seemed to vibrate between them, but Fiona was not afraid. Instead she put out her hand and laid it on his arm.

  “I love you,” she said simply. “And we will – fight this – together. Somehow, with God’s help, we will find the – proof that your wife is – dead.”

  “Proof?” the Duke echoed. “Do you not think I have searched for it? I have questioned everybody and I had the whole countryside combed for any trace of her. But there has been nothing to give us any clue as to what happened.”

  “But there must be something. No one can disappear completely, no one can die without leaving their body behind.”

  “Do you suppose I have not thought of that? I have had the river dragged and I have had the foresters walk over every inch of the ground within miles of The Castle.”

  “And inside?” Fiona asked.

  “We have been through the dungeons and we have searched every Tower and examined almost every stone, without finding even a footprint.”

  “And yet, if she is alive, she must be somewhere,” Fiona said quietly. “And if she is dead, then there will be her bones, if nothing else.”

  “Then let’s find her!”

  “That is what I want to help you to do,” Fiona answered. “Even if I was not personally interested, I would not think it right for you, a young man, to be tied for the rest of your life to a woman who is quite obviously dead.”

  “You are personally interested?” the Duke asked.

  ‘Do you want me to – tell you how – much?”

  “You know that is what I am asking. Tell me, my darling, because, although I can see it in your eyes and hear it in the tone of your voice, I also want to listen to the words themselves.”

  He waited.

  Then Fiona said, the colour rising in her cheeks,

  “You are – making me – shy.”

  “It makes you even more beautiful than you are already.”

  He took her hand in his and, turning it over, pressed his lips to the palm, and as he did so, he felt the quiver that swept through Fiona.

  “Now tell me,” he asked softly.

  “I – love – you!” she whispered and her fingers closed over his.

  “That is what I want you to say and, because you have said it, I swear I will fight again to be free so that I can make you mine.”

  He bent his head and, opening her hand, kissed her palm again.

  Then his lips were on her wrist and she felt a strange feeling seep like lightning through her that was half-pain, half-pleasure.

  “Oh, my precious, my sweet!” the Duke sighed. “I can make you feel a little of what I am feeling, but there is more, so much more that I could teach you!”

  With an effort Fiona took her hand from his.

  “We must be – sensible,” she said breathlessly. “We have to go into – battle – that is what it must be, a battle – using our brains.”

  The Duke’s eyes were on her lips as she spoke.

  Then he said,

  “I want to kiss you. God knows it is the hardest thing I have ever done not to do so, not to know again the ecstasy I felt last night, even though I was so angry.”

  “It was – wonderful for – me too,” Fiona whispered, “but I have a feeling that we have to earn that – wonder before we can – enjoy it.”

  “Suppose – suppose we fail to find what we are seeking, as I have failed in the past years?”

  Fiona smiled.

  “Mary-Rose has called me a White Witch and Lady Morag paints me a different colour. But whatever I may be, I have the feeling – the unmistakable conviction – that if we fight – together, you and I, we shall win!”

  “I want to believe you, Fiona, I want it with all my heart and soul! At the same time, my precious, I can see the difficulties and I will not have you talked about.”

  “Who is likely to do so?” Fiona asked lightly.

  As she spoke she remembered Lady Morag.

  “Exactly!” the Duke said as if she had spoken aloud. “She is a very tiresome possessive woman. I don’t think you can be friends with her.”

  “I have no wish to be,” Fiona replied, “and it has annoyed me the way she has talked about witchcraft, although I think that most of the servants are too sensible to listen to her.”

  “One never knows,” the Duke said, “but the physician, I understand, has returned by now and in the future he will be sent for in the usual way.”

  Fiona gave a little cry.

  “Surely that is capitulation? It is a superstition which is not only ridiculous but has no basis in truth.”

  “The Scots are superstitious and Lady Morag can by her foolish words inflame old prejudices.”

  “What you are really saying,” Fiona said with a smile, “is that because I am a Sassenach I might easily be a black witch!”

  The Duke laughed.

  “I don’t imagine that anyone in their senses could believe that you can cast spells or fly to a Sabbath on your broomstick. Equally it is easy to inflame people against such things when they live in such confined circumstances and have little to talk about outside their own lives.”

  Fiona was silent for a moment.

  Then she said,

  “Are you really tell
ing me not to help people like Jeannie when I know my herbs can take away their fever or cure an infected hand?”

  “I think perhaps at the moment it would be wise not to do any more than you have done already.”

  “It seems ridiculous!”

  “I know,” he agreed, “but if you are to stay here, my darling, we must be careful that there are no poisonous tongues saying things that might eventually harm you. That I could never bear!”

  He gave a deep sigh.

  “Perhaps I am wrong. You have persuaded me to let you stay, but I have a feeling which I cannot quite explain, that you would be safer, and not only from me, in Edinburgh.”

  “If you want me here,” Fiona said, “I would not be such a coward as to run away.”

  “Want you?” the Duke repeated. “Have you any idea how much I want you or how difficult it is going to be to live without you?”

  He looked away from her as he said,

  “If you were wise, you would accept Torquil and leave me to my ghosts.”

  “If you are suggesting that the Earl has proposed marriage to me, he has done nothing of the sort.”

  “But he will ask you,” the Duke replied positively. “I have seen the way he looks at you! I have heard the note in his voice when he talks about you when we are alone, which has never been there before. He is already in love with you.”

  He paused before he added,

  “That is why last night when I thought you had been to his room I behaved in such a manner that I am really surprised you could deign to speak to me again!”

  He looked at her as he finished speaking and, as their eyes met, there was no need for Fiona to answer him.

  They just looked at each other for what seemed a long time.

  Then the Duke said,

  “God knows I am afraid of losing you. Oh, my darling, I feel as if I was a prisoner incarcerated in a dungeon and suddenly for the first time there is a light that I have never seen before.”

  Without being conscious of what she was doing, Fiona took a step towards him, then without either of them consciously realising what was happening the Duke’s arms were round her and she was close against him.

  His lips came down on hers.

  It was then she knew that the rapture and ecstasy she had felt last night were but a pale reflection of the wonder he evoked in her now, when they had both of them acknowledged their love.

  His lips seemed to draw her very heart and soul from her body and make them his and she felt as if her whole being vibrated to the music that came from him and yet was part of a celestial choir.

  There was sunshine and a melody of such wonder that it ran through their hearts and minds and through every nerve of their bodies until they were no longer two people but one, held together by a power that came from outside themselves and filled them with all the vibrations of the Universe.

  ‘I love you! I love you!’ Fiona wanted to shout out.

  But the Duke held her lips and she could only feel as if their love was part of their very breath and as necessary to them both as life itself.

  ‘I could never leave him,’ she told herself and knew, without his saying so, that he would never let her go.

  His love swept her up into the sky and she felt as though they flew into the very heart of the sun and were burning in the fire of it.

  Then when the wonder and the miracle of it were almost too much to endure, Fiona gave a little murmur and hid her face against the Duke’s shoulder.

  She quivered with the emotions he had evoked in her and she felt his lips on her hair.

  “I love you!” he said in a voice deep and unsteady. “I adore you, my darling, and there is nothing else in the whole world except you.”

  “It does not seem – possible that I can – feel like – this,” Fiona mumbled.

  The Duke’s arms tightened round her and as they did so the clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour.

  Fiona gave a start.

  “Mary-Rose!” she exclaimed. “I had forgotten about her! I must go to her. It is time for her to get up from her rest.”

  “I think we have both forgotten everything but ourselves,” the Duke said. “Somehow I will arrange that we shall sometimes be together and alone, but you will understand, my precious, that it will not be easy. I have no wish for the servants to be aware of our feelings for each other.”

  Fiona smiled at him.

  “We will be very circumspect,” she said, “but I shall be thinking of you.”

  “I think it would be impossible for either of us to think of anything else,” the Duke replied, “and do not forget for one instant that I love you.”

  “As I love you,” Fiona answered.

  It was like a physical pain to move away from his arms.

  Then, because she felt that if she looked at him again she would be unable to leave the room, she walked very quickly to the door, opened it and went out onto the landing.

  She could see the kilted figures of two footmen below in the hall and she wondered if they had noticed her go into the library and were thinking it strange that she had been there for so long.

  Then because she knew that Mary-Rose would be waiting for her she ran down the passage to the child’s bedroom.

  *

  It was with excitement mixed with apprehension that Fiona went to the drawing room before dinner that evening.

  Excitement because she would see the Duke again and had found, as he had anticipated, that it was impossible to think of anything else but him all the afternoon.

  And apprehension because she was aware that Lady Morag would be dining that evening as she always dined on Wednesday nights, also because she was afraid that the Earl might sense that something unexpected had happened.

  She knew that the Duke and the Earl had gone fishing late in the afternoon when Mary-Rose had wanted to see Rollo and found the kennel empty.

  “His Grace has taken him with him, miss,” Angus had told the child, adding, “He’s gone to catch a big fish for your dinner if he be lucky.”

  “I would like to have gone with him,” Mary-Rose replied and Fiona echoed the same words in her own heart.

  They explored parts of The Castle grounds that they had not seen before and talked with various members of the staff who all wanted to meet Mary-Rose.

  “She’s a bonnie wee lassie,” one of the older men said to Fiona. “I can see the likeness to his Lordship in her, sure enough.”

  Fiona thought this was wishful thinking since Mary-Rose was in fact a replica of her mother and had none of her father’s characteristics.

  She thought to herself that people saw what they expected to see and she wondered if that might be a clue as to where the Duchess might be hidden.

  Perhaps everything she had done on that particular day when she disappeared had been so ordinary that nobody had noticed it and yet it might have had some significance.

  When they returned to The Castle they met Mr. McKeith in the passage and Mary-Rose, who was very fond of him, slipped her hand into his.

  “You promised to show me the room where you work, Mr. McKeith,” she said.

  “So I did,” he replied. “Well, come and see it now and you’ll see how busy I am.”

  He took her into a large and rather impressive office on the ground floor, where besides a large desk piled with papers there were boxes bearing the Ducal crown and large maps of the estate.

  Mary-Rose danced round looking at everything and Fiona said to Mr. McKeith,

  “Why did you not tell me when we were talking about the Duchess’s disappearance that the Duke was under suspicion?”

  Mr. McKeith looked startled at her question.

  “I did not think it necessary,” he said after a moment.

  “I thought it strange that there were so few visitors.”

  “It’s a very sad state of affairs,” Mr. McKeith agreed.

  “Not only sad for His Grace but also for Mary-Rose. She cannot grow up without friends of her own ag
e. In fact I hoped there would be children to share some of her lessons with her.”

  “I daresay there are children of the same age about,” Mr. McKeith said doubtfully.

  “You know exactly what I mean,” Fiona said. “I am told there are many important families near here and some of them must have children who would be the right sort of friends for Mary-Rose.”

  Mr. McKeith looked uncomfortable.

  Then he said,

  “I will see what I can do about it, Miss Windham.”

  “There is only one thing any of us can do,” Fiona replied, “and that is to prove how the Duchess died.”

  If she had intended to startle Mr. McKeith, she certainly succeeded.

  “I told you that every effort has been made,” he replied after a moment, “but unsuccessfully. I don’t know what else we can do.”

  “Sometimes a stranger coming new to a problem can find a solution where others have failed,” Fiona remarked.

  “What are you suggesting?” Mr. McKeith enquired.

  “There must be a report made by the Sheriff at the time. I would like to see it.”

  “I don’t know whether His Grace – ” Mr. McKeith began.

  “I think it would be embarrassing for me to have to ask His Grace for it,” Fiona interrupted. “That is why, Mr. McKeith, I am asking you.”

  He seemed to hesitate for a moment.

  Then as if he made up his mind he said,

  “Very well, Miss Windham. There are quite a number of papers concerning the Duchess’s disappearance. I will collect them together and put them in a folder for you to study.”

  “Thank you,” Fiona said with a smile, “and when I have read them, if there are any questions I would like to ask, I hope you will be kind enough to answer them.”

  “You intend to concern yourself with this problem, Miss Windham?”

  “Anything that concerns my niece concerns me,” Fiona replied firmly, “and there is no need for me to tell you, Mr. McKeith, that the state of affairs that exists now, if it continues, will undoubtedly affect Mary-Rose in the future.”

  She felt as if Mr. McKeith had suddenly succumbed to her insistence.

  “I see your point, Miss Windham and it is something that did not strike me previously, but I am sure you are right.”