The Unwanted Wedding

by Barbara Cartland

  It was only when he walked slowly to his dressing room that it suddenly struck him that once Tynemouth was married he might not be quite the menace he suspected him of being at the moment.

  *

  Honora paused at the top of the stairs that would take her down to the drawing room.

  As she did so, she heard somebody come into the hall below her.

  Langstone House was built with a staircase curving up to the third floor and the rather ugly dome that lit it resulted in voices having a decided echo that was at times disconcerting.

  But it also enabled anyone on the other floors to have a ‘bird’s-eye view’ of the hall.

  As she stood with her hand on the banisters, she realised that the butler was taking the hat, stick and gloves from a man who had just entered and with a little restriction of her heart she guessed that it was the Duke.

  Unable to move, she watched him climb the staircase below her and saw how tall he was and how square-shouldered.

  While she could not see his face clearly, she was well aware that he not only had an outstanding figure, but a presence that gave him exactly the right image to portray his high rank.

  For the first time she realised that if she married him, as her aunt had told her she must, she would be a Duchess.

  She found the idea frightening, just as she was frightened of the man who was to be her husband.

  ‘It is impossible – it is something I – cannot do,’ she thought unhappily.

  She felt as if her aunt had numbed her mind by the hard blows of what she had told her and it was impossible to think or begin to calculate how she could prevent herself from being married to a stranger in such an unseemly manner.

  ‘Mama would have been shocked and Papa would, I am quite certain, have violently opposed it,’ she told herself.

  Then she was not quite certain.

  After all, her father had always liked being invited to important houses by their distinguished owners.

  At times he had laughed about the invitations he received.

  “I am off to the Duke of Marlborough’s on Wednesday,” he had told Honora a month before he was killed, “which means I shall ride the best horses, drink the best wine and enjoy myself in the company of the most distinguished people in England. What do you think of that?”

  “It sounds thrilling, Papa!”

  There was just a hint of mischief in Honora’s eyes before she asked,

  “Why did they ask you?”

  “I will tell you exactly why,” he said. “It is because I am extremely good company. I amuse people and make them laugh and, while the men think I am a good sportsman, the women – ”

  He paused and added,

  “Never mind about the women!”

  “But you are not rich and important like all the people you spend so much time with,” Honora remarked.

  “I know that and that is why it is so gratifying,” her father answered. “You will find, my darling, when you are grown up, that the rich are often bored with themselves and most of them need a court jester or somebody who is sympathetic to their troubles. You may not believe it, but they have them!”

  Then he was laughing and Honora cried,

  “Dukes, Princes, or Marquises, I don’t believe that anybody, Papa, could be as attractive or be as much fun as you are!”

  “That is exactly what I am and what I want them to think,” her father smiled.

  He had gone off to Blenheim Palace and returned to find a dozen more invitations to other stately homes where he could enjoy himself. It made Honora long for the day when she would be old enough to accompany him.

  At the same time she thought now that, while her father might have been impressed by the Duke, he would certainly not want her to marry a man she was not in love with and who was obviously not in love with her.

  ‘Why does he want to marry me?’ she asked herself.

  She had no answer, but she was quite sure that there must be a reason and it was not a straightforward or particularly pleasant one.

  Because she knew it was expected of her she went down to the drawing room.

  As Dalton opened both the double doors for her, she had a feeling that she was stepping into a play of which she did not know the plot or even whether it would be a romance or a tragedy.

  As she entered the room, her aunt was standing at the far end of it in front of the fireplace looking up at the Duke who was standing beside her.

  They not only appeared extremely attractive, but Honora thought it was obvious that they were very close and personal friends.

  She was not certain how she knew this, it was just as if it vibrated on the atmosphere towards her and she did not question the truth of it.

  She was halfway down the room before first the Duke was aware of her and turned his head in her direction.

  Then her aunt did the same.

  “Oh, there you are, Honora!” she exclaimed.

  As she spoke, her eyes flickered over her niece’s appearance and there was a hard look in them.

  Then, as Honora drew nearer still, the Countess managed to say in a voice that sounded almost as if she forced the words from between her lips,

  “Let me introduce to you, dear child, the Duke of Tynemouth! Ulric, this is Honora!”

  Because she felt shy Honora found it very hard to look at him, but because she knew it was bad manners not to do so, she raised her grey eyes to his face as she made a respectful curtsey.

  The Duke bowed and, as he looked at her, she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was not only taking in her appearance, but it was almost as if he expected to find something he disliked.

  It was not what she had expected to feel about him, and almost as if it was a warning signal she told herself that, just as she had no wish to marry him, the Duke had no wish to marry her.

  Then why? Why? Why?

  The question seemed almost as if it was floating in the air around her, whispered in the crackle of the fire and even carried on the fragrance of the flowers.

  “I am delighted to meet you, Miss Lang!” the Duke said in a deep voice.

  As he spoke, Honora knew that he was not delighted. In which case, why, why, had he asked to marry her?

  CHAPTER THREE

  They had a stilted conversation for a few minutes, the Duke asking in a rather bored voice what Honora’s journey had been like from France and the Countess answering before she could say it had been rough in the Channel.

  Then in a somewhat exaggerated and theatrical voice and an expression in her dark eyes that Honora did not like to interpret, her aunt said,

  “I am going to leave you together for a few minutes, but I will not be long.”

  She looked at the Duke in a meaningful manner and then moved towards the door, very conscious as she did so of her graceful carriage and the rustle of her full skirts over the carpet.

  As she reached the door, she looked back and again she was gazing at the Duke and not at Honora.

  The door closed behind her and there was an uncomfortable silence until the Duke said,

  “I think that your aunt will have told you that we are to be married.”

  Honora drew in her breath.

  Then she said,

  “That is what Aunt Aline told me, but I cannot understand, Your Grace, why you should wish to marry me when we have never met until this moment.”

  She thought the Duke looked surprised.

  Then feeling embarrassed she stared down into the fire, aware that she was trembling because she was frightened.

  After what seemed a very long pause, the Duke said,

  “I think you must be aware that marriages in families like mine and your uncle’s are usually arranged.”

  As he spoke, Honora was distinctly aware that he was feeling for words and that was not the real reason for their marriage.

  “I should have – thought,” she said hesitatingly, “that even so – it was usual for the prospective – bride and bridegroom to – meet befor
e anything was – decided.”

  The Duke made an impatient gesture with his hand and then, as if making up his mind, he said,

  “I think if we are to be married it would be wise for us to be frank with each other.”

  Honora looked up at him as she replied,

  “That is what I would – like and I would therefore be – grateful – Your Grace – if you would tell me the – real reason why the announcement should appear in the newspapers – tomorrow morning.”

  “Your aunt has not told you?”

  “No, all she said when I arrived an hour or so ago was that we were to be married.”

  “Very well, I will tell you the truth,” the Duke said. “I expected to have an arranged marriage sooner or later, but there seemed to be no particular hurry.”

  Honora was listening intently, her eyes on his face as he went on,

  “I learned and it was actually your aunt who informed me of it, that Her Majesty the Queen wished me to marry Prince Albert’s niece, Princess Sophie of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha.”

  The Duke’s voice was hard and almost aggressive as he spoke and, after a little pause, Honora said,

  “And that is – something you do not – wish to do?”

  “Certainly not!” the Duke replied sharply. “I have met the Princess and I can assure you she is the last woman I would, in any circumstances, willingly take as my wife!”

  “And yet you are – prepared to – ask me! Why?”

  Honora saw that her question had, for the moment, surprised him.

  Then as if he sought for an answer, he said,

  “You are English and you belong to a family for whom I have a great respect.”

  “But – surely,” Honora persisted, “there must be many – other families who come into the same category and you – therefore have a wide choice. So why me?”

  The Duke put out his hand and, as if he needed support, held onto the mantelpiece.

  Then looking down at the fire he answered,

  “I understood from your aunt that the marriage would meet with your approval, and – ”

  He paused and there was silence before Honora asked,

  “What is the other reason?”

  “Quite frankly, I have to act quickly. I suspect that Her Majesty will suggest when I am on duty at Buckingham Palace tomorrow that the Princess would make me a suitable wife.”

  Again there was that harsh note in the Duke’s voice which revealed his feelings very clearly.

  “So I suppose I am the lesser of two evils!” Honora remarked.

  The Duke looked at her as if in surprise that she should speak in such a way before he said,

  “I have a feeling, Miss Lang, that this conversation should not be taking place and we are perhaps making things very much more difficult than they are already.”

  “The only difficulty, Your Grace, is that you have no wish to marry me and I have no wish to marry anybody I do not – love.”

  If she had dropped a bomb at his feet, the Duke could not have been more surprised.

  He was so used to being pursued, enticed and implored to marry that he had never really considered that any unmarried girl he proposed would to hesitate before accepting him.

  Now, it was as if he was seeing her for the first time, he asked,

  “Are you saying categorically, Miss Lang, that you will not accept me as your husband?”

  “I am afraid it will make Aunt Aline very – angry,” Honora replied, “but knowing what your – true feelings are in the matter and that I am only a convenient means of escape from – something you have no wish to do – my answer is therefore quite simply ‘no’!”

  As if there was nothing more to say, she turned and walked towards the door.

  At that moment it opened and the Countess came back into the room.

  She was aware as she did so that she had not left the Duke and Honora together for long.

  But because the girl was looking so unexpectedly lovely and very elegant in a manner she had not expected, Aline Langstone was driven by an irrepressible jealousy to prevent her from being any longer alone with the Duke.

  Then, as she came into the room and saw the expression of consternation on the Duke’s face while Honora walked towards the door, she asked sharply,

  “What is happening? Where are you going?”

  Honora stopped and stood still and the Duke replied,

  “Miss Lang has refused me!”

  There was a note of surprise in his voice and yet at the same time it was as if he challenged Aline and told her that, as he had thought at first, her idea would not work.

  “Refused you?” the Countess exclaimed, her voice rising shrilly.

  “I am – sorry if it annoys you, Aunt Aline,” Honora said, “but – His Grace has been frank with me and told me the reason for such a – precipitate engagement – and I am sure he will be able to find – somebody far more suitable to – marry him than I am.”

  She tried to speak calmly and with dignity, but she could not prevent a little tremor in her words that showed she was afraid.

  Her aunt looked at her and Honora was aware of a fury in her eyes before she said,

  “Come with me, Honora, I wish to speak to you alone.”

  Then, as she turned, she said over her shoulder,

  “Help yourself to a drink, Ulric. There is a bottle of champagne in the ice cooler.”

  She did not wait for his reply, but stalked ahead of Honora to the door and there was nothing the girl could do but follow her.

  Outside her aunt moved down the passage that led towards her bedroom and entered her boudoir, which was actually only two doors away from the drawing room.

  Honora followed her inside, aware once again of the fragrance of carnations and lilies mingling with the French perfume that her aunt always used.

  As she closed the door behind them, the Countess was standing in the middle of the room and her face was contorted with an expression of venom and anger that was terrifying.

  “May I ask you,” she said, “what you think you are playing at?”

  “P-please – Aunt Aline,” Honora replied, “try to understand – the Duke has no wish to marry me nor I him!”

  “Do you really think, you little fool,” the Countess demanded, “that you can upset my plans and do anything but obey me?”

  “You cannot – force me into a – marriage that could not be anything but – unhappy!”

  “If your poverty-stricken father were alive,” the Countess replied, “he would be overwhelmed with delight that you should marry anybody so important and so rich! It would mean that he would be able to sponge on his son-in-law instead of on every other Tom, Dick and Harry he could borrow money from.”

  “That is – not true,” Honora cried.

  At the same time she had the uncomfortable feeling that there was a grain of truth in it and that her father would have been delighted for her to marry the Duke of Tynemouth.

  “And how do you think,” the Countess continued, “that you, without a penny to your name and nothing to recommend you except that you are a Lang, are going to find another husband half as suitable as the Duke?”

  “Whoever he may be,” Honora replied, “perhaps I would be – in love with him.”

  “Love!” the Countess said contemptuously. “If that is the rubbish they have stuffed your head with at the Convent, then all I can say is that your uncle’s money has been wasted!”

  Honora did not answer and the Countess’s eyes narrowed as she said,

  “As you are obviously too half-witted to think for yourself, I intend to think for you and give you a choice.”

  “A – choice?”

  “Yes, a choice,” her aunt replied. “It is quite simple – either you marry the Duke as I have planned, or you go into a Convent and become a nun!”

  Honora stared at her in sheer amazement as she went on,

  “It would not be a nice, comfortable, rich Convent such as you have just left! One of
the charities to which your uncle most generously subscribes is known as ‘The Little Sisters of the Poor’ who devote themselves to caring for the sick and poverty-stricken in the slums or wearing out their knees in prayer.”

  She paused and her face was very spiteful as she went on,

  “I also understand that they give up everything they possess and that should certainly be easy for you since you possess nothing anyway!”

  “Are you – really suggesting,” Honora faltered, “that I should take the – v-veil?”

  “That is what you will have to do,” her aunt replied, “unless of course you are prepared to starve in the gutter.”

  “You – cannot mean it,” Honora said. “Please – could I have more time to – consider what I should – do?”

  “There is no time,” the Countess snapped. “You must make up your mind here and now to marry the Duke or I will arrange for you to be taken tomorrow morning to the Convent.”

  She gave a laugh, which was an unpleasant one, before she added,

  “You must be aware that a Guardian has complete and absolute control over his Ward and, if your uncle sends you to a Convent, there is no appeal against his decision.”

  She looked at Honora as she spoke, saw that her face was very white and she was trembling, and added spitefully,

  “The choice is yours. There is no other alternative and however mentally half-witted you may be, I should have thought it would not be difficult for you to make up your mind.”

  Honora was defeated and she knew it.

  “I-I have no – vocation to be a – nun,” she said in a very small voice, “and – therefore – if you insist – I will m-marry the Duke.”

  “Good!” her aunt said quickly. “I will go and explain to him that you were just overcome by the importance of his position and that was why you refused him. In the meantime get out of my sight! Go up to your bedroom and stay there! Even to look at you makes me feel sick!”

  The Countess opened the door of her boudoir as she spoke and hurried back along the passage to the drawing room.

  Honora stood for several minutes without moving.

  Then she put her hands up to her face and covered her eyes.

  She asked herself how this could possibly have happened, but she knew now that there was nothing she could do about it.