Forced to Marry

by Barbara Cartland

  Gytha was ready for this question and she replied,

  “We both have a great love of horses.”

  “Oh, of course!” Lake Wakefield exclaimed. “You must have met out hunting and who could resist admiring the animals from the Locke stables, which are always superb.”

  By the time the gentlemen had joined the ladies, Gytha had managed to evade many questions from the other ladies in the party.

  These included the Lord Lieutenant’s wife, who obviously had found Lord Locke extremely attractive and she had made the very most of being beside him at dinner.

  All the time, however, Gytha was conscious of the Princess’s hatred.

  Because she was very sensitive to other people’s vibrations, she could feel the Princess’s eyes on her.

  She thought that they were like burning embers searing their way into her flesh.

  Somewhat later she felt that it was time for her to leave.

  Lord Locke escorted her to the door, saying in a voice that only she could hear,

  “You were splendid! I have my house party to look after tomorrow, but I will call on you sometime during the afternoon.”

  Gytha smiled at him.

  Driving home in his comfortable carriage, she thought how wonderful he was.

  It was marvellous of him to have agreed so readily to her suggestion of an engagement.

  ‘I am sure it was you, Papa, who put the idea into my mind,’ she said in her heart, ‘and persuaded Lord Locke to agree.’

  She paused before, with a touch of fear in her voice, she went on,

  ‘Now I have only to convince Vincent and Jonathan that they have no hope of getting hold of Grandpapa’s money through me!’

  She had the idea that it would not be as easy as it sounded.

  But as she went to sleep she tried to think only of Lord Locke.

  She could see him riding his magnificent black stallion over the jumps.

  She wanted to thank him again and again for his kindness in rescuing her from her cousins.

  *

  As she awoke the next morning and dressed, she only wished that Lord Locke could be with her.

  She knew that she would be frightened when she told Vincent and Jonathan that she was engaged to him.

  She came downstairs and the house seemed very dark and silent, especially after the chatter and laughter at Locke Hall.

  Heavy oak panelling covered most of the walls and the large rather ugly mahogany furniture and the portraits of her ancestors made everything seem gloomy.

  And heavily tasselled curtains prevented the sunshine from coming in through the windows.

  In contrast the rooms at Locke Hall had been bright with the light not only from the crystal chandeliers, but from the white walls picked out in gold.

  The painted ceilings, decorated as Gytha had learned by famous Italian artists, were very different from anything that she had ever seen before.

  Everything about Lord Locke was unusual, she told herself.

  He was as magnificent as his horses.

  Then she saw her cousin Vincent coming in through the front door.

  He must have been very eager to obey her grandfather’s summons and he would therefore have stayed overnight with a friend or else at a Posting inn.

  He was dressed as usual in a dandified manner.

  His coat was cut in an exaggerated style with the points of his collar above his white cravat far too high!

  She looked at his thin tight lips and his large supercilious nose. His small pig-like eyes were too close together.

  She felt revolted by him.

  “Good morning, Gytha,” he said in the lofty voice in which he habitually addressed her. “I suppose Uncle Robert has not yet come downstairs.”

  “No, it’s too early for him,” Gytha replied, “and I was, in fact, expecting you later.”

  “I wish to speak to you alone,” he then declared.

  Gytha knew this meant that he intended to propose to her.

  “I am afraid that I have something important to do,” she said swiftly, “so perhaps we can talk when Grandpapa comes down.”

  “I said that I wish to speak to you alone,” Vincent countered insistently. “Come into the drawing room now.”

  Gytha tried to think of some excuse.

  Because she was so much younger than her cousins, she was used to obeying them.

  While she was frantically trying to find words to excuse herself, Vincent took her by the arm.

  He led her firmly across the hall and into the drawing room with its stiff furniture upholstered in dark damask.

  It had often made Gytha think that it looked like a funeral parlour.

  He shut the door behind him and Gytha said quickly,

  “I wanted to wait until Grandpapa came down before I told you my news.”

  “News? What news?”

  He walked towards the fireplace as he spoke.

  He was thinking, Gytha was convinced, that he cut a very fine figure of a man.

  His champagne-coloured breeches fitted closely to his skin and his polished Hessian boots had two gold tassels dangling from the fronts of them.

  He turned round as he reached the fireplace.

  He surveyed her almost, she thought, like a Sultan inspecting a new addition to his harem.

  She could read his thoughts and she was sure that he was thinking that she was not in any way to his taste.

  Nevertheless the fortune she would inherit from her grandfather would cover a multitude of defects.

  “I would rather Grandpapa was here to tell you,” Gytha said in answer to his last question.

  She felt that her voice sounded small and ineffectual and she was sure that she herself looked no more convincing.

  “What can Uncle Robert have to tell me that you cannot relate to me first?” Vincent asked. “In point of fact I would rather be prepared.”

  Gytha did not speak and after a moment he asserted in an irritated tone,

  “Stop behaving in this mousy fashion and explain to me what has happened since I was last here, although I cannot imagine it is of any particular import.”

  “Only to me.”

  “Then what is it?”

  She drew a deep breath.

  “I am – engaged to be – married to – Lord Locke!”

  For a moment Vincent just stared at her with his piggy eyes.

  Then he said,

  “I don’t believe it. Uncle Robert would never countenance an alliance with the Lockes as we have been on bad terms for over twenty-five years.”

  “Grandpapa has agreed that we – should be engaged – but it must not be – announced until he knows Lord Locke better.”

  “I have never heard anything so outrageous!” Vincent flashed. “How dare you presume to make friends with a family that has insulted us and deliberately tried to steal one of our woods.”

  “Lord Locke has now relinquished all claims to the wood – and has promised Grandpapa that it will be erased from every map on the Locke estate.”

  “It should never have been included on them in the first place,” Vincent snapped, “but that is immaterial. Uncle Robert must be deranged if he has agreed to this ridiculous marriage and it is something I shall fight with every means in my power.”

  “Why should you – want to do – that?” Gytha asked in pretended innocence.

  “Because I intend to marry you myself!” Vincent replied. “You need somebody to look after you now that both your parents are dead and, as my wife, you will have my protection and what is more my name.”

  “Which is mine already,” Gytha pointed out. “Although it is very kind of you to ask me to be your wife, Vincent, I am afraid you are – too late. I have already given – my promise to – Lord Locke.”

  She found herself growing braver as she spoke.

  But she was not prepared for the fury that seemed to contort Vincent’s face as he shouted,

  “You shall not marry Lord Locke! I forbid it! Do you
hear? I absolutely forbid it!”

  His voice seemed to echo round the room.

  He looked so frightening that Gytha, who had not sat down, took several steps backwards.

  She was afraid that he would strike her.

  Just then the door opened and Sir Robert, wheeled by Dobson, came into the room.

  “What is all this noise?” he demanded.

  Dobson moved the wheelchair until he stopped in front of Vincent.

  “You can leave us, Dobson,” Sir Robert nodded to him.

  The valet walked slowly away as if he was reluctant to miss what looked like a promising scene.

  Sir Robert looked from Gytha to his nephew and then he asked sharply,

  “What is all this noise? What do you mean by shouting at Gytha?”

  “If I was shouting,” Vincent replied in a different tone of voice from the one he had used before, “it is because I am so surprised, Uncle Robert, not to say astounded at your giving your permission for Gytha to marry a man whom I have always considered an arch enemy.”

  “What you consider or do not consider is of no consequence,” Sir Robert said. “Locke may be his father’s son, but he has proved himself to be a good soldier and has several medals to prove it.”

  The way he spoke told Gytha that she had been right.

  Her grandfather had always resented the fact that neither Vincent nor Jonathan had taken an active part in the War against Napoleon.

  “I cannot understand,” Vincent said after a moment, “why the fact that he is a good soldier should entitle him to marry Gytha. Furthermore I always believed that you intended her to marry either me or Jonathan.”

  “Well, I have changed my mind,” Sir Robert said, “and if Gytha marries Locke, you will have to find another heiress to pay for your extravagant ways.”

  “I cannot see why I should do anything of the sort,” Vincent said angrily. “I shall marry Gytha and, whatever you may say now, you led me to believe that such an idea met with your approval.”

  “I will leave my money where I like,” Sir Robert retorted fiercely. “I made it without any help from a lot of carping relatives and why should your only contribution be in helping to spend it?”

  “I think that is most unfair – ” Vincent began.

  At that moment the door opened and Jonathan came in.

  He was looking, Gytha thought, more unpleasant than usual.

  With an ingratiating smile on his face he reminded her of a Cheshire cat that had eaten too much cream.

  He tried to dress smartly in the same fashion as his brother and, because he was shorter and stouter, nothing looked right on him.

  Already, after what had been only quite a short journey, his cravat looked crumpled and his polished boots were obviously smudged.

  Gytha had always thought too that he was not as clean as Vincent. His hands were not only wet and clammy but also often unwashed.

  “Good morning, Uncle Robert,” he said in the silky smarmy tones he always used to the old man. “How delightful to see you again and in such good health!”

  “I am damned ill,” Sir Robert replied, “and you know it!”

  “Good morning, Gytha,” Jonathan said. “How pretty you look. As fresh as the flowers in springtime, as the poets say – ”

  “Stop babbling,” Vincent interrupted. “Listen to what has happened and see if you don’t consider that Uncle Robert has treated us shabbily.”

  Jonathan gave Sir Robert a glance that was very much sharper than the silken tones of his tongue before he asked,

  “What can have happened in this delightful house where I always feel so happy and at home?”

  “You may as well enjoy it while you can,” Vincent said. “Gytha considers herself engaged to that outsider, Locke, who no Sullivan has spoken to for well over twenty-five years!”

  “Lord Locke?” Jonathan asked in astonishment.

  “Who else do you think I am talking about?” Vincent demanded sharply. “Just tell Uncle Robert it is something that he should not allow and we most definitely will not permit it.”

  “Are you insinuating that I am becoming senile in my old age?” Sir Robert enquired in a voice of thunder. “You will not permit? You who have done nothing since leaving school but beg first from your father and then from me for money.”

  He paused before he went on furiously,

  “You don’t suppose that I am not aware that the only reason why you came charging down here a short time ago was when it suddenly struck you that I might make Gytha my heir rather than either of you!”

  “I understood you wanted one of us to marry Gytha,” Vincent retorted, “and thus keep the money in the family and ensure that a Sullivan inherited the estate.”

  “Yes, that is what I thought too,” Jonathan piped up. “I thought either of us could marry dear Gytha and I hoped that the sweet little thing would favour me.”

  He gave Gytha a look that made her shudder.

  Instinctively she moved nearer to her grandfather as if for protection.

  “Well, you have both of you backed the wrong horse,” Sir Robert said. “Gytha intends to marry Lord Locke and, although I don’t like the stable he comes from, at least he is not hanging around after my money like you two vultures!”

  “Are you seriously telling us, Uncle Robert,” Vincent cried, “that you are not only willing to allow this marriage so that Gytha will be a Locke rather than a Sullivan, but that you do not intend to provide for Jonathan or me?”

  “Provide? You are provided for already. Your father left you all that he had and, if you don’t think that enough, then that is no concern of mine.”

  “But, Uncle Robert, we shall be impoverished!” Jonathan whined. “How can you bear to think of your nephews living in poverty and having to sponge off our friends?”

  “What is the difference from your sponging off me?” Sir Robert asked. “You don’t think that I have not seen through your efforts to soft-soap me, young man, or your brother’s insistence that ‘blood is thicker than water’?”

  He waited for a reply.

  When there was only an embarrassed silence, he continued,

  “I am no fool and both of you are fortune-hunters. Now you can find a fortune elsewhere. Gytha will have everything I possess and, if she allows you to live in the family house, you will be lucky.”

  “But we have no money to keep it up with,” Jonathan moaned.

  “Find some. Make some. Stir yourselves for a change,” Sir Robert shouted. “How do you think I made money? By using my brains and not by relying on my relations, who were all as half-witted as you are!”

  His voice thundered out as he added,

  “Half-witted nincompoops without a brain between the two of you! I will not have my money – my money – frittered away and at least Locke understands horseflesh. I would not trust either of you to buy a mule.”

  The old man’s face had become crimson as he ranted at them.

  Suddenly his chin dropped on his chest.

  He seemed to be having difficulty in breathing.

  This was something that had happened to him before.

  Gytha knew that the doctor had left him a special drug to take when this occurred.

  Hastily she ran to the door and, as she expected, Dobson was just outside.

  She was certain even as she turned the handle that he rose to his feet and he had been listening at the keyhole.

  “The Master’s drops, quickly!” she called out.

  The valet hurried into the room.

  He took a small bottle from his pocket as he did so.

  He picked up a glass from the grog table and, half-filling it with water, he measured some drops into it.

  Then he tipped it into Sir Robert’s mouth.

  There was silence while everybody waited for the drops to take effect.

  But Sir Robert still lay back with his eyes closed.

  Dobson turned his chair round to face the door.

  “You’re killin’ h
im that’s what you’re doin’!” he said in a rude voice to Vincent.

  Then he wheeled his Master from the drawing room and left the three cousins staring after him.

  It was Vincent who spoke first.

  “Now we have lost everything.”

  “Is there any chance of his changing his will?” Jonathan enquired.

  “I doubt it,” Vincent replied, “but we could contest it once he is dead. Make no mistake, Gytha. If you have persuaded him to leave you everything, we will fight you in the Courts, you may be sure of that!”

  She thought that both her cousins were heartless and despicable.

  After a moment Gytha said quietly,

  “I shall let Lord Locke – look after my interests.”

  “Now, look here, my girl,” Vincent said, “you listen to us.”

  “I am not going to listen to you,” Gytha retorted. “You both make me feel sick by the way you behave. I have always known that – you are utterly contemptible.”

  Her voice rose as she continued,

  “You came to see Grandpapa only because you wanted his money. Now you have told the truth – and I hope I never see either of you again!”

  She walked out of the room as she spoke.

  As she was closing the door, she heard Jonathan say,

  “See what you have done, Vincent! We have somehow got to make her change her mind.”

  ‘That is something they will never be able to do,’ Gytha thought to herself.

  She ran upstairs to find out how her grandfather was.

  *

  Gytha learned later that Vincent and Jonathan were staying to luncheon.

  She therefore ordered her own meal to be brought upstairs in her sitting room where she ate alone.

  Then, because she wanted to avoid further altercation with her cousins, she walked along the drive.

  She was hoping to intercept Lord Locke if he came to call on her as he had promised.

  She looked between the oak trees and at last she saw him in the distance and felt a sudden leap of her heart.

  As he drew nearer, she could see the jaunty angle of the way he wore his high hat.

  He was riding the same black stallion that had won the steeplechase.

  She knew at once that no man could look more handsome or ride with an expertise that would have delighted her father.