The Glittering Lights (Bantam Series No. 12)

by Barbara Cartland

  Dinner was so long drawn out with many courses, and the gentlemen lingered so long over their Port, that there was in fact little time to wait before Lily Langtry arrived with Freddy Gebhard.

  They were followed shortly by the ladies of the theatre who, Cassandra learned, had been conveyed to the country by Lord Carwen’s fastest horses.

  Mrs. Langtry was looking very beautiful.

  She arrived wearing full evening-dress with magnificent jewellery, and she looked so elegant without a hair out of place that she might have stepped from behind the footlights into the Drawing-Room.

  Everyone present paid her extravagant compliments and she greeted Cassandra with a charming smile, although it was obvious she was surprised to find she was staying in the house.

  “I am grateful to you, Lily, for introducing me to the entrancing Sandra,” Lord Carwen said. “But then your taste has always been impeccable.”

  “I understood it was Varro she wished to meet,” Mrs. Langtry replied, with what Cassandra felt was a hint of mischief in her eyes.

  “Varro is also here,” Lord Carwen remarked.

  “How kind of you,” Mrs. Langtry said with a little smile.

  Cassandra thought there was a suggestion of sarcasm in her voice.

  As soon as everyone had arrived, a room off the Drawing-Room was opened to reveal a roulette table, in addition to which the guests could play Baccarat or Bridge.

  It was obvious, Cassandra noticed, that the women were carrying no money with them and that the gentlemen were expected to act as their backers.

  A great number of golden sovereigns were soon lying on the green-baize tables.

  “Do you want to play?” the Duke asked.

  Cassandra shook her head.

  “I hate gambling!”

  “Then let us sit by the fire,” he suggested, and they remained behind in the Drawing-Room while the rest of the party clustered round the tables in the Card-Room.

  “I think I shall go to bed soon,” Cassandra said. ‘This is my third night of gaiety and I feel rather tired.”

  “You certainly do not show it,” the Duke answered.

  He looked at her sitting in a chair which framed the soft ivory lace of her gown. The golden lights in her red hair glittered in the candlelight and her eyes were very blue.

  It seemed as if there was little they had to say to each other, and yet Cassandra knew it was a joy beyond words to be with him; to feel that they were together, although they were surrounded by other people and in the house of a man she disliked.

  She had a feeling the Duke was thinking the same thing.

  Suddenly feeling shy of the expression in his eyes, she turned her head away to look into the fire.

  “I was very happy today,” the Duke said softly.

  “It was ... something I have never done ... before,” Cassandra said without thinking.

  “What have you never done before?” the Duke enquired.

  “Driven alone with a man and had luncheon at an Inn.”

  She was speaking more to herself than to him, and then she feared he might think it strange that as an actress she should not find such occasions quite ordinary.

  He was about to say something when Lord Carwen came back into the Drawing-Room.

  “I wondered what had happened to you both,” he said.

  His tone was not accusing but perfectly pleasant.

  “I do not gamble,” Cassandra said quickly.

  “Perhaps you do not know how to do so,” Lord Carwen suggested. “Let me be your instructor.”

  “No, thank you,” Cassandra replied. “Quite frankly I think it is a silly way of passing the time, when one might be talking or reading or doing something else more interesting.”

  “There I agree with you,” Lord Carwen smiled.

  He turned to the Duke.

  “Varro, if you are really determined not to do as I have asked you with regard to De Veet, will you have a word with him? He has just told me that he is counting on you, so, if you have really changed your mind, I feel it would be a mistake to leave him in ignorance.”

  “I have not changed my mind,” the Duke answered. “I told you from the beginning I did not wish to be associated with him.”

  “I am afraid I did not understand that,” Lord Carwen said. “In fact I told De Veet that you would represent me on his Board.”

  “That is something I have no intention of doing,” the Duke said sharply.

  “Then, my dear fellow, you must make your attitude clear to De Veet. He is suffering under the same misapprehension as I was, that you were definitely interested in his proposition. I think you had better tell him now—at once—before things go any further.”

  “I should have thought tomorrow would be soon enough!”

  Lord Carwen shook his head.

  “If you are not prepared to play ball, dear boy, then I have every intention of asking Wilmere. He has been badgering me for some time to put him in touch with just such a chance to make money.”

  The Duke rose slowly to his feet.

  “Very well, I will speak to De Veet. Are you coming with me, Sandra?”

  “Yes, of course,” she answered.

  She rose and moved towards the Duke, then as he turned towards the door into the Card-Room, Lord Carwen said:

  “One moment, Sandra, I have something to show you.”

  Both Cassandra and the Duke stopped still.

  “What is it?” Cassandra asked.

  “Nothing more sensational,” Lord Carwen replied with a twist of his lips, “than a plan of my Estate. You were talking to Colonel Henderson about it at dinner, I believe.”

  “Yes, I was,” Cassandra answered. “Did he tell you so?”

  “He told me that you were interested in my Point-to-Point Course that has been spoken of as a model of its land. It certainly commanded a great deal of attention last week when we had our first meeting.”

  “Colonel Henderson described it to me,” Cassandra said. “He told me your horses won two races.”

  “I should really thank Varro for that,” Lord Carwen said agreeably. “He sold me the hunters and I was very pleased with their performance.”

  Cassandra glanced at the Duke and knew without his saying anything how much he must have disliked having to part with his precious hunters. Once again he must have been in pressing need of the money.

  “I have the plans here on my desk,” Lord Carwen said. “Let me show them to you.”

  There was nothing Cassandra could do but agree, and reluctantly the Duke walked away from her and into the Card-Room.

  Cassandra had no wish to be alone with Lord Carwen, but she felt she could not refuse to look at his plans without being extremely rude.

  Moreover it was unlikely that he would try to be over-familiar when the rest of the party were in the next room and might interrupt them at any moment.

  Lord Carwen drew from the drawer of a bureau inlaid with ivory a plan which was headed “The Lord Carwen Point-to-Point, March 15th, 1886.”

  “Now let me show you why this is different from the usual Point-to-Point Course—” Lord Carwen began conversationally.

  He spread the plan out as he spoke, and Cassandra with her experience of her father’s private Steeple-Chase Course at The Towers realised that it was in fact very well planned.

  “Unlike most Point-to-Points,” Lord Carwen continued, “the Judges here can keep an eye on the Competitors the whole way round, and of course it is more interesting for the spectators.”

  “What you have really devised,” Cassandra said, “is a racecourse.”

  “I suppose that is true,” Lord Carwen said, “but I am not particularly interested in racing as such. It is Varro who thinks only of the ‘Sport of Kings’.”

  “His father’s horses were famous,” Cassandra said, almost as if she were defending the Duke.

  “Would you like to own a race-horse of your own?” Lord Carwen asked.

  “Not particularly,” Cassandr
a answered.

  She wondered what Lord Carwen would say if she told him that her father owned a large number of race-horses and had promised her that as soon as she was twenty-one that she could race under her own colours.

  “I wonder what you would like to possess,” Lord Carwen said.

  Cassandra did not answer.

  She was aware that he was looking at her with that expression in his eyes which she most disliked. So she merely bent her head over the plans on the desk.

  She traced with the tip of her finger the course the riders would follow; noted the height of the jumps; and was certain that they would prove of little difficulty as far as her new horses, Firefly and Andora, were concerned.

  Lord Carwen suddenly set down in front of her on the plan an open jewel-case.

  In it lay a broad diamond bracelet glittering in the light from the Chandelier.

  For an instant Cassandra was still. Then she said coldly:

  “I have already told you, My Lord, that I do not accept presents from strangers.”

  “I am not a stranger,” Lord Carwen answered, “and you know as well as I do that diamonds are something every sensible girl should collect, besides being vastly becoming to a skin as white as yours.”

  “Thank you,” Cassandra replied, “but my answer is no.”

  She would have turned away, but Lord Carwen caught her by the wrist.

  “When you are as sweet to me as I wish you to be,” he said softly, “I will give you a necklace to match the bracelet.”

  “You seem to find it very difficult to understand plain English,” Cassandra replied. “How can I make you realise, My Lord, that I will not accept a gift of any sort from you? No diamonds, however large, however expensive, will tempt me to alter my decision.”

  “I suppose you fancy yourself in love with Varro?” Lord Carwen said, and now there was something like a snarl in his voice.

  “That has nothing to do with it!”

  “I think it has,” Lord Carwen insisted. “But let me inform you that Varro can give you nothing while I am a very generous man!”

  Cassandra tried to release herself but his fingers were still clasped tightly around her wrist.

  She was not really afraid. She could hear the voices of the other guests as they crowded round the tables in the Gambling-Room, and she knew Lord Carwen would not risk her calling out or making a scene.

  “Let me go!” she said firmly but quietly.

  “I cannot credit you are serious in refusing my presents,” Lord Carwen answered making no motion to release her.

  “You do not appear to listen to what I say.”

  “You are entrancing! You attract me more than any woman I have seen for years. It is not only that enticing red hair of yours, but the curl of your lips, the way your eyes glint under those long dark lashes.”

  “I do not wish you to say such things to me,” Cassandra said. “I am here as your guest and I must ask you to treat me with courtesy.”

  Lord Carwen laughed.

  “I have no desire to be courteous to you, Sandra. I want to make love to you; to kiss you; to awaken a response in that perfect little body of yours!”

  He paused before he added:

  “I cannot believe that anyone with hair the colour of yours would not be passionate in response to the desire you arouse in me.”

  “Again you are mistaken,” Cassandra said, holding her chin high. “How can I make it clearer to Your Lordship? You simply do not attract me.”

  “But you attract me!” Lord Carwen retorted. “And as far as I am concerned, that is all that matters!”

  “I see I made a mistake in accepting your hospitality,” Cassandra said. “It would clearly be best if I asked His Grace to take me away tomorrow morning.”

  “You fascinate me by the challenge in your voice,” Lord Carwen said, apparently quite unabashed. “You bewitch me with every word you say and every movement you make! You are adorable and very exciting, little Sandra!”

  Once again Cassandra tried to free herself from the tight hold he had on her wrist.

  “Shall I tell you something?” he asked.

  She did not reply and he went on:

  “Women always change their minds and I will make you change yours. I want you, Sandra, and I intend to have you! And let me tell you I am a very determined fighter.”

  “Then I am afraid, My Lord, that on this occasion you have met your Waterloo!” Cassandra answered coolly.

  She twisted her arm unexpectedly and was free. Without another word she turned her back on him and walked away across the room.

  She knew he was watching her and heard him laugh very softly beneath his breath.

  ‘Why should I be frightened of him?’ she asked herself. ‘At the same time, I shall leave tomorrow morning.’

  She found the Duke talking to Mr. De Veet in a corner of the Card-Room. They were both looking cross, Cassandra thought, and the Duke’s eyes lit up when he saw her.

  She went to his side, resisting an impulse to hold on to him as if she needed his protection.

  “I think it is time I went to bed.”

  “I quite agree,” the Duke answered. “You have had a long day.” He turned towards Mr. De Veet.

  “You must excuse me, De Veet. There is really no point in discussing it any further.”

  “Let me try to persuade Your Grace,” Mr. De Veet answered in a guttural voice.

  “It will be a waste of time!” the Duke said quietly.

  He took Cassandra’s arm and led her towards the door into the Hall; but before they had reached it they encountered Mrs. Langtry.

  “I have lost a lot of Freddy’s money,” she said to the Duke, “and so the sooner I retire, the better. I never was a good gambler!”

  “I dislike gambling in private houses,” the Duke answered.

  “I quite agree with you,” Freddy Gebhard said, “and we are both tired. It must be very late.”

  The first move having been made, it appeared that most of the other people in the party were ready to do the same, and Cassandra walked up the stairs with Mrs. Langtry and most of the other ladies in the party.

  It was impossible for her to have a last word with the Duke or even to say good-night to him with everyone listening.

  She wanted to tell him how Lord Carwen had behaved, but there was no opportunity.

  The same maid came to her room to undo her gown, and when she was alone she brushed her hair and finally was ready to get into bed.

  It was then a thought struck her and she walked to the door to turn the key in the lock. But there was no key!

  She stared in perplexity remembering distinctly that she had noticed the key before she went down to dinner because it had been gold.

  Gold keys and gold locks to the door, she had thought, were ostentatiously opulent! She had never in fact seen them before in any house in which she had stayed.

  Now the key had gone!

  She looked around apprehensively and went into the Boudoir next door.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she thought hopefully, ‘the key for that door will fit the one in the bed-room.’

  But once again there was no key!

  Cassandra tried to tell herself:

  ‘I must have been mistaken in thinking I saw a key before dinner.’

  Yet she knew she had definitely noticed it because it had been ornate and in rather an attractive design.

  She looked around the bed-room. There were two upright chairs that appeared to be fairly substantial despite the fact that they were covered in pale blue damask, with their frames carved and gilded.

  She placed the back of one of the chairs under the handle of the door which led to the corridor, the other against the door which led into the Boudoir.

  She remembered her Nanny doing the same years ago because she had always been afraid of burglars. At the same time the chairs Nanny used had always been heavy and of solid wood.

  Cassandra hoped that the gold frames of these chairs would be
just as effective.

  ‘Anyway,’ she told herself, ‘I am being unduly apprehensive. I cannot believe that anyone would try to come into my room.’ With a sense of relief she remembered the Duke was not far away in ‘The Red Room” which she had seen on the plan she had examined with Lady McDonald.

  He was sleeping just around the corner from the suite she occupied and she could, if necessary, reach him quite easily.

  She got into bed and realised when she put her head down on the pillow that she was in fact very tired.

  It had been difficult to sleep the night before because she had lain awake thinking about poor Nancy. The night before that it had been her thoughts of the Duke which had kept her awake until it was dawn.

  Now she felt the soft warm waves of slumber creeping over her and in a very short while she was unconscious.

  She awoke suddenly with a start, aware that some sound had awakened her.

  She heard it again—a distinct knock on the door!

  She sat up in bed. The fire had burned low but there was still enough light to see across the room and to realise that the door handle was being turned and only the chair was preventing the door from opening.

  The door however did open a crack and she heard a voice say:

  “Sandra, let me in!”

  It was hardly more than a whisper and yet there was no need for her to guess who it was that spoke.

  She felt as if she was unable to move. She could only sit staring at the crack in the door; seeing the chair shake as it withstood a violent assault upon it.

  Then suddenly she was terrified!

  She was sure that the chair might give way at any moment.

  “Sandra, let me in! I wish to talk to you.”

  There was no mistaking a command in the words, even though the voice was still kept low! Cassandra knew she must get away! She must escape while she still could!

  It seemed to her that the crack was getting wider. She thought the legs of the chair might break or it might slither across the carpet and be no longer an effective obstacle.

  She was hardly conscious of what she was doing, but driven by a fear that was like a sword piercing through her she sprang from the bed.

  Running across the room, she pulled aside the chair that she had placed in front of the door into the Boudoir.