Secret Love

by Barbara Cartland

  He had laughed again.

  Yet he had thought tonight, as he saw Robbie and Josofine together, that he was missing something.

  ‘Why do I never feel like that?’ he asked himself.

  Then he looked at the lady sitting next to him and she was certainly extremely attractive. She was witty and amusing and had a complacent husband who spent a great deal of his time fishing and so he was not annoyed when his wife was a guest at one of the Prince of Wales’s secret parties.

  But the Marquis was honest with himself.

  He realised that her attraction for him was not as strong as it might have been and it was only a question of time before he drifted away and looked for someone else.

  ‘I wonder why,’ he quizzed, ‘that once I have tasted the forbidden fruit I find myself no longer interested in it.’

  And he supposed the same could be said of all the gentlemen sitting round the table.

  The Prince of Wales found it quite impossible to be faithful to any woman for long and then he was invariably searching for someone new.

  Then once again the Marquis saw the happiness in Josofine’s lovely face and what amounted to adoration in Robbie’s.

  ‘Why can I not feel like that?’ he asked himself again.

  He supposed dismally it was something that would never happen to him.

  Of course he enjoyed making love to the beautiful ladies who went willingly into his arms as soon as he held them out, but at the same time he knew that it was not a very difficult victory and sooner than he really wanted he would be looking elsewhere for someone to take her place.

  “The trouble with you, my dear Victor,” one of his discarded mistresses had scoffed at him, “is that you are far too conceited and too pleased with yourself to give any woman your heart.”

  She had said it angrily rather than reproachfully and he found himself wondering if it was true.

  Then he told himself that no man could control his own heart and if it did not respond in the way he wished it to do, that was not his fault.

  The lady in question had not the facility or perhaps the magical attraction Robbie found in Josephine.

  ‘They are making me feel much older,’ the Marquis thought as he saw them disappearing when the Prince of Wales led the way up the stairs.

  The room which had been allotted to him was very attractive and the Marquis walked across to the window that overlooked the garden.

  It was then, as he pulled back the curtain a fraction, he saw Robbie and Josafine.

  They were walking hand in hand past the fountain and then they disappeared into the trees and bushes at the other end of the lawn.

  For a moment the Marquis wondered where they were going and then he could just see the roof of a Wendy House peeping through the leaves.

  Quite suddenly the Marquis knew it was something he would like to be doing himself.

  They were to be married, as the Prince of Wales had told everyone at dinner when they drank their health and Robbie had only to wait until Sunday before he made Josefine his.

  Again the Marquis knew he was envious of them.

  He too wanted to feel their inexpressible delight in being near each other and in love.

  ‘That is exactly what I want and what I have been searching for,’ he mumbled to himself.

  Because it upset him to know he had failed so far, he pulled back the curtains sharply and started to undress.

  The four-poster bed looked most inviting and he almost wished that Lady Eleanor, who he had brought with him, was not waiting on the other side of the corridor.

  Then he told himself he was being ridiculous.

  He had always enjoyed these secret parties of the Prince of Wales and of course he was enjoying this one.

  Yet almost involuntarily he took longer with his undressing and washing, although he had had a bath before dinner and then he tidied his hair in front of the mirror.

  With a little sigh that left his lips before he could control it, he opened the door.

  He knew that as usual the ladies would have their names on the doors opposite.

  Then he was aware that two of the candles which lit the corridor in silver sconces had gone out.

  He had thought the corridor slightly dark when they had all come to bed, and yet he knew Lady Eleanor’s room would be opposite to his, so it would not matter if he was unable to read her name on the card on her door.

  Because he had taken a long time looking out of the window and undressing, the corridor was quiet.

  He crossed it quickly and opened the door.

  As he went into the room he thought he must be dreaming or else staring at one of the pictures he had seen on every wall and which he knew were all superb.

  Looking across the room he could see lying in a four-poster – an angel.

  She was breathtakingly beautiful, that went without saying. Her very fair hair fell in waves on either side of her face onto her shoulders.

  There was a halo behind her head and the Marquis thought he would have known she was an angel without it.

  At the age of fifteen Wenda had come down from the schoolroom and she had then slept on the same corridor as her father and mother.

  Her mother had arranged Wenda’s bedroom in a way she knew would please her. The four-poster instead of being heavy as so many of them were was light.

  There were butterflies and tiny birds decorating the posts and at the end of the bed Lady Creswell had arranged curtains of muslin and lace for her daughter.

  Because she knew it would please Wenda, she had put embroidered golden stars on the back of the bed behind the pillows – the centre one was large and directly behind her head as she sat propped up against her pillows.

  As it caught the light from the candles it looked to the Marquis standing just inside the door like a halo.

  For a moment he could only stand starring at what to him was a supernatural vision.

  Then, aware that the door was open, Wenda asked in a low voice,

  “Is that you, Robbie?”

  The Marquis walked forward and reached the bed.

  Wenda looked up in surprise.

  “I thought you were Robbie.”

  “He is out in the garden,” the Marquis answered.

  Looking at him Wenda thought, as she had when she had seen him at dinner, he was a very handsome man – tall with wide shoulders, a square forehead and dark hair, he was better looking than any other man at the table.

  Now because he just stood staring at her, she said,

  “Your room is on the other side of the passage.”

  The Marquis was very quick-witted.

  He realised instantly, although it surprised him, that she had no idea that he would have left his room for some particular reason.

  Playing the part expected of him, he replied,

  “I left something downstairs and went to fetch it. Actually the candles next to this door have gone out.”

  “Oh dear!” Wenda exclaimed. “I was afraid they were rather small and insignificant, but they were all we could find in such a hurry.”

  “Who are you?” the Marquis asked her. “Do you live here?”

  With a jerk Wenda remembered what Robbie had said – on no account was anyone to know she was here in the house or that she was his sister.

  There was a short hesitation before she replied,

  “I am helping out with the cooking and I hope you enjoyed the French dishes at dinner.”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “They were delicious, but I thought when I came into the room that you were not an inhabitant of this planet but – an angel.”

  Wenda gave a little laugh and he thought it was the most attractive sound he had ever heard.

  “I wish I was,” she answered him. “It would be so lovely to fly up to the sky and not to have to worry about all the problems down here on earth.”

  “I think that is something we all do occasionally, but if I come here in the morning, I am sure I will find th
is an empty room except for dust and mice.”

  Wenda laughed again, although she thought Robbie would be angry at her for talking to one of the guests.

  “I think you ought to go to bed,” she suggested. “You will find your room opposite this one and just a little to the left.”

  “Are you sending me away?” the Marquis asked. “I always thought angels were soft and gentle and willing to help those who needed it.”

  “I don’t believe you need help,” Wenda replied, “and although I don’t know you, I am sure your horses are as magnificent as those that arrived here this afternoon. I am only hoping they will not find the new jumps we have installed either too high or too low.”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “I feel sure they will be perfect like everything else in this house. I have never seen such magnificent pictures, nor eaten a better dinner nor met an angel before!”

  “By the morning I will be gone,” Wenda told him. “But if there is anything you may desire, then of course, if I pray hard enough for you, you will receive it.”

  It flashed through the Marquis’s mind that what he really wanted was to feel as happy as Robbie and Josofine were at this very moment.

  Then very much to his surprise, Wenda who had been looking up at him, added,

  “You will find it. I know instinctively what you want and you will find it. When you do, it will make you tremendously happy.

  “Are you telling me you are reading my thoughts?”

  There was a little pause before Wenda answered,

  “Sometimes I know what people are thinking. But usually they are people I know and love and I suppose that makes it easier.”

  “So you know,” the Marquis said slowly, “that I was wishing for love.”

  “I realise that it is in your mind and of course it is something we all wish for. I know almost as if a voice is telling me that you will find love.

  “It will be when your heart meets someone else’s heart who is looking for you as you are looking for her.”

  Wenda spoke very softly and the Marquis listened to her almost as if he was hypnotised.

  Then there was a strange silence between them.

  They just gazed at each other.

  At last the Marquis sighed,

  “I just don’t believe you are real. I am terrified that tomorrow I will not be able to find you again.”

  Wenda smiled.

  “I think you should go to bed and please don’t tell anyone, especially Robbie, that you found me here.”

  “I promise you I will do as you ask,” the Marquis replied. “At the same time I do so want to see you again.”

  “That is impossible and please now go away. You should not have come here and, as I told you, your room is on the other side of the passage.”

  For a moment the Marquis thought he would defy her and then he complied,

  “I will do what you tell me. But I swear if you are really a human being and not an illusion come from the sky above, I will find you again.”

  Although she did not reply, she was still looking up at him and the halo was shining behind her fair hair.

  “Pray for me, my angel,” the Marquis muttered.

  He moved towards the door and when he reached it, he looked back.

  Wenda was sitting as he had first seen her with the halo glinting in the candlelight behind her head.

  As he walked into the corridor he knew that tonight at any rate he would not visit Lady Eleanor.

  He went into his room and then he did something he had never done before on this sort of occasion.

  He locked his door.

  *

  When he had gone, Wenda gave a sigh of relief.

  She had felt half-afraid all the time he was standing there that Robbie would suddenly come in to tell her what was happening.

  The Marquis had said that he had seen him in the garden and she had no idea if it was just to look at the fountain or if they had gone to the Wendy House. She had a feeling now that was what they had done.

  Equally she knew Robbie would have been angry if he had found her talking to the Marquis.

  She was supposed not to exist.

  But it had been very exciting seeing him close to.

  There had been a sincere note in his voice and it had told her that, although he had made strange remarks, he had not been laughing at her.

  ‘I like him and I would love to talk to him again,’ Wenda mused.

  But she knew that was impossible.

  She must just forget he had come into her room by mistake. It was because the candles in the sconce outside her door had gone out.

  It had been difficult to buy so many candles in such a short time and she had had to rely on the village shop. And as she might have expected, they did not have enough candles to fill all the sconces.

  She was also afraid of spending too much money and she had therefore told Mr. Twillet who kept the shop to procure her the cheapest he could find. They had been rather thin and were obviously foreign, but she had been thankful to have them without having to pay more.

  Now she thought it might have been a case of being ‘penny wise and pound foolish’.

  She blew out the candles by her bed and snuggled down on the pillows.

  ‘He is very handsome,’ she told herself, ‘and I have never talked to a man in that way before – ’

  But then she had talked with very few men.

  She went to sleep and to her surprise dreamt of the Marquis asking her to pray for him.

  *

  When she awoke she looked at the clock and found it was still very early although it was already light.

  It was then she had a sudden idea which had never occurred to her before.

  She had been so busy in the house and working on the pictures and had therefore not had time to look at the Racecourse with its new jumps – Mr. Wentworth had only told her what he had done.

  ‘If I get up now,’ she surmised, ‘I will be able to ride round the Racecourse. I might even take Samson over one or two of the jumps.’

  Samson was the one fine stallion that remained of her father’s horses that had always been outstanding. He had been still very young and more or less untrained when her father died. But he was well-bred and she had broken him in herself.

  Now she realised that Samson must be wondering what had happened.

  She had not ridden him since Robbie had presented her with such an appalling task.

  But she had done it.

  She had made the house habitable for the Prince of Wales.

  Hurriedly she climbed out of bed and putting on her riding skirt and a white muslin blouse, she tied back her hair with a blue ribbon.

  Without worrying any further about her looks, she ran down the stairs.

  It was still far too early for even the most ardent servant to be working.

  Only as she passed the kitchen did she hear Mr. and Mrs. Banks talking to each other and she guessed that like herself they would be too excited to sleep for long and they were now up before anyone else preparing breakfast.

  Even if she was a little late it would not matter as Mrs. Banks not only had her assistance but there were two women from the village. They were both good cooks in their own way and had been assigned to the kitchen.

  It had been Banks’s suggestion and Wenda had not argued with him, knowing that he was thinking not of her but of his wife and he knew that if they gave her too much to do she might collapse and then be unable to do anything.

  Without seeing anyone, Wenda went into the stable yard and when she opened the larger stable she was thrilled to see a dozen magnificent horses.

  They belonged to the visitors and she had been told they were arriving yesterday, but she had been far too busy to go and see them.

  Now she went to Samson’s stall and even though he was not as well-bred as the new arrivals, he was still an outstanding stallion, one any man would be proud to own.

  Samson was delighted to see Wenda and n
uzzled against her affectionately.

  She put on his saddle and bridle, suspecting that Ben and the newcomers’ grooms were still asleep – they had been allocated rooms above the stables.

  Now, as she rode out of the stable yard, she felt for the moment free of any further worries and cares.

  “Let’s enjoy ourselves, Samson,” she cried, “and if these new jumps are too high for you, they will be too high for the visiting horses.”

  She always talked to Samson and he twitched his ears as if he understood.

  When they reached the Racecourse she realised that Mr. Wentworth had done a very good job. There might be a certain roughness about the jumps, but they were firmly in place and the Racecourse really looked inviting.

  As if Samson knew without being told what was expected of him, he took the first jump without hesitation.

  They carried on to the next jump and then the next and Wenda thought it was all so exhilarating.

  She had no idea that she was being watched.

  *

  The Marquis had had a sleepless night.

  He had given up trying not to think of the angel he had encountered so unexpectedly.

  He had therefore risen even earlier than Wenda.

  His own house was a very large one and it was built to more or less the same design as Creswell Court.

  He had thus easily found his way out of the back door and along the path that led to the stables where he found his stallion.

  He had sent him down earlier, as the other visitors had sent theirs, because the Prince of Wales had told him there was a Racecourse at The Court.

  Mountebank was indeed a fine animal with Arab blood in him and the Marquis was determined, if they raced as His Royal Highness intended, that he would be the winner.

  He did not saddle Mountebank himself. He woke a rough-looking boy who was sleeping on a bale of hay.

  He rubbed his eyes when he was told to get up and saddle the horse.

  “It may seem too early for you,” the Marquis said, “but I want to have a ride and it’s a nice morning.”

  The boy did not answer and the Marquis found that he had to locate his saddle and bridle himself and watch that the girths were right and the bridle properly adjusted.

  He only hoped that later in the day there would be better and more experienced grooms, but he admitted that it was his own fault for rising so early.