Born of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  Because she had no wish to see her father again before he left, she did not come downstairs until it was nearly midday.

  The Comtesse greeted her profusely.

  “Here you are, dearest child,” she said. “I trust you are rested?”

  “I am afraid I am very late, madame,” Marcia apologised.

  “We all were,” the Comtesse replied, “but there was every excuse and fortunately my nephew did not want an audience today. As I expect you know, he has taken your father off to see some horses.”

  “I know that will be delightful for Papa,” Marcia replied.

  Most of the men in the party seemed to have vanished for one reason or another and Marcia found that the luncheon was a dull meal compared to those she had enjoyed before.

  As soon as they had finished, the Comtesse was called away to deal with some problem that concerned the household.

  Marcia had no wish to talk with the other relatives in the salon as she was afraid that they would start trying to pump her as to what she felt about the Duc.

  She was sure that they were longing to find out if she was in love with him or not.

  Marcia told herself with a little smile that, if she told them the truth, they would find it unbelievable.

  She therefore went upstairs and put on a riding skirt and her thin blouse.

  Then she slipped down a side staircase that led to the stables.

  She asked the grooms if she could ride Aquilin and the Head Groom remarked,

  “I’m sure, mademoiselle, you’d wish for a groom to accompany you.”

  “No, thank you,” Marcia replied. “I would much rather go alone.”

  She saw by the expression on the Head Groom’s face that he disapproved of her doing so.

  She understood that in the early morning it might be proper to ride without an attendant when there was nobody about. But it would be considered correct to have a groom with her at any other time of the day.

  She wanted to think over what her father had said and she had no wish to have a groom either talking or keeping just behind her wherever she went.

  Whether or not the Head Groom approved she had every intention of being alone.

  He brought Aquilin to the mounting block.

  As she left he watched with a disapproving look in his eyes.

  However, she had had her own way.

  She set off, moving along the gorges, which she wanted to explore more closely.

  She had not gone far when she had a small fly in her eye and so she pulled Aquilin to a standstill under the boughs of some trees.

  Having managed to extract the small insect, she wiped her eye with her handkerchief.

  As she did so, she saw ahead of her two men on horseback apparently coming out from one of the gorges.

  She could not see them very clearly, but she was sure one of them was Sardos.

  He had not been at luncheon and the Comtesse had said,

  “I am afraid, and it is rather disillusioning, but all the men have left us on one pretext or another.”

  There was a little murmur from the women as the Comtesse went on,

  “Even Sardos said he had business to do, but I cannot imagine what it could be, here in the valley.”

  There was a worried note in her voice and it made Marcia think that she was speaking more to herself than to those listening.

  Now, as she saw Sardos riding along with the other man beside him, she wondered if he was up to some mischief.

  It seemed unlikely that there was anything here that he could do to hurt the Duc.

  He would not find money amongst the high rocks nor for that matter in the valley, as the grapes were not yet ripe for picking.

  She waited until the two men were out of sight.

  Then she rode on, keeping still close to the magnificent rocks that rose on one side of her, high up towards the sky.

  Then she was aware that in front of her there was a hedge.

  It was quite a high one, but it seemed to be a challenge.

  She bent forward to pat Aquilin on the neck.

  “Come on boy,” she said in French. “Show me what you can do.”

  She put him at the hedge and he swept over it with almost a foot to spare.

  As they were flying over it, Marcia realised with a sense of shock that there was a child on the other side.

  She only just had time to pull Aquilin over to the right.

  He reacted, but not enough.

  As he landed, one of his back hoofs just touched the child and she fell to the ground.

  Marcia leapt from the saddle and ran towards the fallen child.

  She was a little girl of perhaps five years of age.

  She had been holding a bunch of wild flowers in her hand, which she had been picking from beneath the hedgerows.

  Marcia took the child up in her arms and looked round wildly.

  It was then she saw that about fifty yards away to her left there was a small house at the foot of the towering rocks.

  She started to walk towards it and as she did so a boy who appeared to be about fourteen years old came running towards her.

  “What’s happened?” he asked.

  “Who is this little girl?” Marcia enquired.

  “She’s my sister, Lisette,” the boy answered. “Mama told me to look after her. Is she dead?”

  “No, of course not,” Marcia replied quickly. “She was just touched by my horse’s hoof and it has knocked her unconscious.”

  She hoped as she spoke that it was nothing more serious than that.

  Still walking forward she said to the boy,

  “Is that your home? Is your mother there?”

  “My mother’s gone to see Grandpapa, who’s ill,” the boy answered.

  Marcia felt her heart sink.

  She could see the house was standing by itself and there was no sign of any others.

  Still she walked on, holding the child very carefully and, as she looked at her, she could see now that she was a pretty little girl.

  Aquilin’s hoof had caught her in the centre of her forehead.

  Only a little of the skin was broken and it was not bleeding profusely.

  But already a dark patch was forming round it, which looked ominous.

  The boy was obviously very perturbed.

  “What’ll you do?” he asked. “Will Lisette be in great pain?”

  “I hope not,” Marcia answered, “But we must take a doctor to her as soon as possible.”

  The boy shook his head.

  “There’s no doctor near here.”

  Marcia knew that she must find somebody to help her.

  ‘I will send a message to the château,’ she thought.

  They had reached the house, which had a small garden in front of it, and the boy opened the gate.

  There was a narrow path leading up to the front door, which he ran ahead to open.

  Before Marcia went inside she looked back.

  To her relief Aquilin was cropping the grass near the hedge and she doubted if he would wander away. If he did, it was more than likely that he would return to his own stable.

  For the moment, however, she must concern herself with Lisette.

  The house was very small with a kitchen on one side of the front door and a parlour on the other and at the back were two bedrooms.

  In the larger of these there was a big bed and a smaller one, which the boy said was Lisette’s.

  Marcia, however, put the child down on the big bed.

  Her eyes were still closed and her face was very white.

  Because she was frightened, Marcia found that her heart was beating abnormally quickly.

  “Your little sister is concussed,” she said aloud, “and we must get help. You must run to the château with a note.”

  The boy nodded as if he understood and she asked him,

  “What is your name?”

  “It’s Pierre.”

  “Very well, Pierre, see if you can find me a piece
of paper, some ink and a pen to write with. I will undress your sister, but tell me first where I can find her nightgown.”

  The boy picked up the pillow from Lisette’s bed and from beneath it drew out a nightgown.

  Marcia saw that it was clean as were the bedclothes and the house itself and she thought that Pierre’s mother must be a competent housewife.

  Then she remembered that the French were always excessively clean in their own houses. They aired their mattresses almost every day out of the windows.

  “Find me some paper to write on,” she asked again.

  Pierre disappeared and Marcia went to the washstand in the corner of the room.

  There was a ewer filled with water and she found a flannel hanging on the towel rail.

  Very gently she bathed Lisette’s forehead. There was a little blood, but not much.

  Marcia thought, however, that the bruise caused by Aquilin’s hoof had grown bigger and blacker.

  She took off Lisette’s shoes and socks.

  She was just beginning to undo her cotton dress when Pierre came back.

  “I have found some ink and a quill, m’mselle,” he said. “Also a piece of paper, but it’s a bit large.”

  It was a piece that Marcia thought his mother must have used on the kitchen table.

  She had seen a pair of scissors on the dressing table and she cut it down to the size she required.

  Then she seated herself in a hard chair and, dipping the quill in the inkpot, she wrote,

  “I have had an accident involving a small child. Please send a doctor or somebody to help, but don’t tell anybody about it in the house, especially Papa as it would upset and worry him.

  Marcia.”

  She folded the note hoping that no one would open it.

  Then she wrote on the outside the Duc’s name and above it, “PRIVATE AND PERSONAL.”

  When she had finished, she said to Pierre,

  “Take this as quickly as you can to the château and say it is for the Duc and nobody else. Try, if it is possible, to give it to him yourself.”

  The boy understood and Marcia added,

  “Be as quick as you can, but tell me before you go when your mother will be back.”

  “She said perhaps very late tonight,” he answered, “but she thought more likely it’d be tomorrow morning.”

  Marcia’s heart sank.

  “Do everything you can to speak to Monsieur le Duc himself,” she said. “He will help us while other people will only make a fuss.”

  “I’ll say that I come from you, m’mselle,” Pierre said intelligently, “if you’ll tell me your name.”

  Marcia thought it was clever of him to think of that.

  “I am Lady Marcia Woode,” she said. “Repeat that after me.”

  “L-Lady Marcia Woode,” Pierre repeated, having a little difficulty with the word Lady’.

  “That is right,” Marcia said. “Now repeat it to me and then over and over to yourself as you run to the château.”

  He did as she told him and ran off saying,

  “I’m a good runner, m’mselle. I’ll be ever so quick!”

  Marcia went to the door with him and looked to see that Aquilin was still there.

  The horse was apparently quite unconcerned by what was happening and with a faint sense of relief she went back to Lisette, who had not moved.

  Very gently Marcia began to take off her dress thinking that once she regained consciousness she would be more comfortable without it.

  At the same time she was frightened by what had happened.

  Perhaps the child’s brain had been damaged by the accident.

  ‘I am sure that the Duc will find a doctor,’ she thought.

  She only hoped that he had returned by now.

  She felt sure that he and her father would have seen the horses before luncheon and would not linger afterwards.

  ‘Only the Duc can help me at this moment,’ she told herself.

  Then she thought it was strange that she should rely on him so completely.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Pierre ran all the way to the château and he was breathless when he arrived.

  Then, as he reached the steps to the front door, he felt shy at what he had to do.

  He glanced back down the drive and saw that a chaise was approaching.

  He stopped, thinking perhaps it could be the Duc.

  If it was, he would not have to speak to the superior footmen who frightened him.

  The chaise came nearer.

  The Duc was driving two well-matched horses, which he brought to a standstill with a flourish.

  Pierre saw the gentleman with him climb out.

  As the Duc was about to hand the reins to the groom who had been perched up behind him, Pierre stepped forward.

  “I have this for you, monsieur,” Pierre said bowing.

  He held out the note that Marcia had written to him.

  The Duc looked at the boy in surprise.

  “A note for me?” he asked. “From whom?”

  “From M’mselle-Laydee-Marcia-Woode, Pierre answered slowly, struggling to remember the words.

  The Duc took the note from him and opened it.

  When he had read it, he asked,

  “Where is the lady who wrote this?”

  “In my mother’s cottage, monsieur.”

  “Wait here,” the Duc said.

  He walked up the steps into the hall and said to one of the footmen,

  “Fetch Jacques to me immediately.”

  “Oui, monsieur,” the footman replied and ran up the stairs.

  The Earl had walked through the hall and into the salon.

  The Duc could hear his voice talking, he thought, to the Comtesse.

  He waited impatiently.

  He had decided that it would be a mistake to speak of what the note contained until he had found out what had happened.

  It was only a few minutes before Jacques, the Duc’s valet, came hurrying down the stairs.

  He was a middle-aged man who had been with the Duc for ten years and he was extremely skilful in rendering first aid in accidents and the Duc had incurred a number in his various exploits.

  He drew Jacques out of hearing of the other servants and speaking in a low voice said,

  “There has been an accident and I want you to come with me at once. Bring anything you think might be necessary.”

  Jacques did not waste any time in asking questions.

  He merely ran back up the stairs while the Duc walked to the front door.

  “Tell the Earl and the Comtesse if they ask for me,” he said to the butler, “that I have gone to see somebody on the estate who needs my help.”

  As the Duc finished speaking, he walked down the steps and climbed back into his chaise.

  The groom was standing at the horses’ heads.

  And the Duc waited until Jacques came hurrying back to join him.

  As the valet jumped into the chaise, the Duc called out to the groom,

  “I am only going a short distance, so I will not need you any longer.”

  The groom stood back and the Duc said to Pierre, who was waiting,

  “Get into the seat behind me.”

  At his command Pierre quickly obeyed.

  The Duc turned the horses in the courtyard and set off down the drive.

  He waited until he was out of sight of the house before he said, speaking over his shoulder, to Pierre,

  “You will have to direct me. I have no idea where your cottage is.”

  Pierre told him that they must pass through the village first.

  Having done so they then took a rough track up the hillside and it was fortunate that there had been no rain recently.

  For the last part of the journey meant driving across the fields that Marcia had been riding over.

  As they neared the cottage, the Duc saw Aquilin, who was still cropping the grass.

  He looked apprehensively at the horse, wondering if he should tie
him up or leave him as he was.

  Aquilin raised his head as the chaise approached.

  He made no effort to move away and the Duc thought that it would be safe to leave him loose.

  He climbed out saying to Pierre as he did so,

  “I am leaving my horses in your charge and I know you will look after them.”

  He knew that he could not have said anything that would have delighted the boy more.

  He ran to the horses’ heads and started to make a fuss of them.

  The Duc opened the gate, went up the narrow path and entered the cottage.

  He guessed immediately where Marcia would be.

  It was only a few steps to the bedroom at the back and, when he reached it, he saw that the door was ajar.

  He pushed it open and saw Marcia sitting on the bed cradling Lisette in her arms.

  She did not sense immediately that the Duc was there.

  She was talking to the child and he could hear her saying in her soft voice,

  “You have been hurt, but you will soon be well. Then you will be able to run over the grass again and pick the pretty flowers as you did today. I expect you were going to give them to your mother and she will be pleased that you thought of her while she was away.”

  She was suddenly aware that there was somebody at the door and looked up to see the Duc.

  “You – you have come!” she said in a different tone. “I am very glad. I have been so worried. Have you brought a doctor with you?”

  “I have brought my valet, Jacques, who is just as good as any doctor,” the Duc replied.

  “What has happened?”

  He walked nearer to the bed and looked down at the child in Marcia’s arms.

  “It was – my fault,” she said unhappily. “I jumped a hedge without knowing that there was anyone on the other side. One of Aquilin’s hoofs just touched this child’s forehead. I think she is concussed and I hope it is no worse than that.”

  “We will let Jacques take a look at her,” the Duc said.

  He stood aside while Jacques, who had been hovering at the door, came forward.

  He looked down at Lisette and Marcia told him,

  “I think it’s a good sign that the wound has not bled much, but she is going to have a terrible bruise on her forehead.”

  Jacques took Lisette’s pulse and felt her heart and then very gently her forehead.

  “How is she?” Marcia asked. “I was so afraid at first that she was dead.”