Forced to Marry

by Barbara Cartland

  Lord Locke arranged for her to be taken upstairs to where his housekeeper was waiting for her

  She showed Gytha into a large bedroom that was far more beautiful than any room she had seen before.

  As she took off her bonnet, she said,

  “My clothes are following me, but I feel rather embarrassed as I have only one black gown, which belonged to my mother, and I don’t think that I shall have an opportunity of buying any more.”

  Mrs. Meadows, the housekeeper, looked at her reflectively.

  Then she said,

  “I thinks, miss, if you’re not too proud, I could fit you up until you’ve time to go to London or wherever else you’ll be shoppin’.”

  “You could?” Gytha asked. “But how?”

  “His Lordship’s sister, miss, is at the moment in India with her husband.”

  Gytha listened intently as Mrs. Meadows went on,

  “She left over a year ago and gave me all her winter clothes to care for, saying that they would be no use to her in the heat.”

  “You don’t think that she would mind my borrowing them?” Gytha asked.

  “No, of course not, miss. In any case I’m certain that by the time her Ladyship returns she’ll want everythin’ she possesses replaced as bein’ out of fashion.”

  “It sounds very extravagant!” Gytha murmured.

  Mrs. Meadows smiled.

  “Her Ladyship’s husband, Sir Murray Weldon, is a very rich gentleman and he never denies her Ladyship anythin’ she needs.”

  Gytha had, of course, heard of Lord Locke’s elder sister, how attractive she was and that she had been the toast of St. James’s.

  Three years ago she married the dashing Colonel of the Queen’s Dragoon Guards.

  When Gytha heard that he had been sent out to India, she had at once been interested mostly because she had read of her grandfather’s travels in that country.

  She wished that she too could be fortunate enough to visit anywhere so exciting and mysterious.

  Now she would have the chance of borrowing some of Lady Weldon’s clothes and so she would not feel as ashamed of her appearance in front of Lord Locke as she had the other night.

  Then she had been fully aware that women like Princess Zuleika had looked scornfully at her homemade muslin gown.

  “Thank you,” she said to Mrs. Meadows, “you are very kind.”

  “What I was thinkin’, miss,” Mrs. Meadows said, “is there’s no need for you to wear pitch black, so to speak, when you’re here alone with his Lordship and Major Westington.”

  She paused to see Gytha’s reaction to this suggestion and went on,

  “I know that her Ladyship had some pretty mauve gowns which are half-mournin’ and I thinks they’d suit you with your fair hair and white skin. In fact, if I may so, miss, you’d look like a violet in them.”

  Gytha was thrilled at the idea.

  Mrs. Meadows brought her one of the mauve gowns to change into for luncheon.

  It was very fashionable and made of a material that was far more expensive than anything that Gytha had ever bought for herself.

  She therefore went downstairs feeling a little self-conscious and hoping that Lord Locke would now think her more suitably gowned for the grandeur of his house.

  Actually it was Perry who exclaimed the moment she appeared,

  “You look like a flower and far too lovely for such a small audience as Valiant and myself!” he smiled.

  Gytha blushed.

  “Fine feathers make fine birds,” she quoted shyly, “but I am afraid in this case that the feathers are – borrowed.”

  In case she had done something wrong, she turned to Lord Locke and said quickly,

  “As my lady’s maid has not yet arrived with my own gowns – and as the one I was – wearing looked creased, Mrs. Meadows – persuaded me that – your sister would not mind if I borrowed – something of hers.”

  “No, of course she would not mind,” Lord Locke replied, “and, as Perry said, you look very lovely.”

  He spoke in a dry voice that did not make her feel embarrassed by the compliment.

  At the same time her heart seemed to turn over in her breast.

  The whole room seemed bathed in light because he was so kind to her.

  She was not aware that before she joined them Perry had said to Lord Locke,

  “It’s a pretty serious state of affairs, Valiant. What are you going to do about it?”

  “What can I do?” Lord Locke asked him back.

  “It’s appalling behaviour on the part of Zuleika,” Perry said, “and I would like to see you teach Sullivan a lesson for his dastardly behaviour!”

  “I would like to do that myself,” Lord Locke agreed, “but I am not certain how I can challenge him with an action that he will obviously deny.”

  “You realise that unless you do something about it you will be a sitting target?”

  “Of course I realise that,” Lord Locke replied, “but you must not say too much and scare Gytha.”

  Perry did as he was asked and it was he who started over luncheon to make the conversation amusing and light.

  There was no reference whatsoever to the drama that had taken place that morning.

  Lord Locke joined in and Gytha found herself laughing helplessly at the things the two men said.

  They argued jokingly between themselves and they were so witty that when the meal finished Gytha reckoned that she had never had such a happy time.

  She felt nevertheless that it was somehow wrong to be happy when her grandfather had just died.

  But to have flown away from the dark menacing house and her cousins was an inexpressible relief.

  She wanted to laugh and sing at the sheer joy of being free of them.

  After luncheon they went to the stables and, as Lord Locke had guessed, nothing could have taken her mind off what had occurred more than to inspect his horses.

  There were over forty of them and they visited each one in their stalls.

  The grooms proudly brought out the finest to parade them up and down the yard.

  Gytha could see the way they moved and noticed the obvious Arab strain in many of them.

  But the men were surprised at how much she knew about horses and the process of breeding.

  She also told the Head Groom of a new poultice that she had made from herbs and which had proved most effective for the mares.

  He promised to try it should occasion arise.

  Time passed very quickly and she could hardly believe it possible when Lord Locke said that it was long past teatime and he was sure that it would be waiting for them in the house.

  *

  Only after tea was over and Gytha went upstairs on Lord Locke’s suggestion to lie down before dinner did she find herself wondering what was happening at home.

  When she left, she had asked Emily to tell her cousins when they returned that she had gone to stay at Locke Hall.

  “Mr. Vincent said he’d be back for luncheon,” Emily replied, “but I thinks Mr. Jonathan’s gone to London.”

  “To London?” Gytha had exclaimed in surprise. “Then he will not be returning here tonight.”

  “He said he might be late, but he was definitely a-comin’ back.”

  Gytha wondered why he should have gone to London.

  And then it struck her that he had probably gone to consult a lawyer.

  Her cousins would want to know how they could contest the will and the thought made her all the more eager to get away.

  At the same time she had known that it was only right that she should offer Lord Locke the chance to be free of her.

  She lay on the bed in the beautiful bedroom wearing a silk negligée trimmed with lace that had belonged to Lord Locke’s sister.

  She felt as if she had stepped into a story book and become unexpectedly a Fairy Princess.

  Never had she imagined herself in such glamorous and lovely surroundings.

  Later she had a bath scented w
ith honeysuckle.

  Mrs. Meadows then brought her two evening gowns that she could choose from.

  One was made in a very soft pale mauve, much the same colour as she had worn at luncheon. The other was white and simply but exquisitely made in white chiffon.

  Because the mauve gown was so lovely Gytha hesitated.

  She knew that it did not look like mourning.

  Then she was lost.

  “Can I really wear it?” she asked Mrs. Meadows eagerly.

  “Of course you can, miss, and very beautiful you’ll look in it, if I may say so.”

  “Are you quite certain her Ladyship will not mind?”

  “Mind? She says to me last time she wore that gown that she was sick of it and I were not to bring it out for her again!”

  As she put it on, Gytha saw how it gave her an elegant figure that she never knew she possessed.

  She found it difficult to believe that any woman could be tired of a gown that was so entrancing.

  It was also very obviously the work of an expensive Court dressmaker.

  Mrs. Meadows helped her to arrange her hair in a more fashionable mode and then she fixed two white camellias on either side of her head.

  She then arranged several more at the point of her décolletage.

  Gytha looked in the mirror and she thought that she had never looked like this before in the whole of her life.

  She remembered how Lord Locke had said this morning that she was lovely and she hoped that he would say the same this evening.

  Having thanked Mrs. Meadows for her kindness, she began to walk down the stairs.

  She felt that she was still the Fairytale Princess she had thought herself to be in her bedroom.

  She had reached the bottom of the stairs when the footman on duty said,

  “Excuse me, miss, but there’s an old lady outside in a carriage askin’ if you’d be kind enough to go out and speak to her as she’s come specially to see you, but isn’t well enough to come into the house.”

  “An old lady?” Gytha queried. “I wonder who it could be?”

  “She didn’t give her name, miss, but she says as ’twas ever so important for her to speak to you.”

  It flashed through Gytha’s mind that it might be something concerning the servants in the Sullivan household.

  “Of course I will speak to her,” she said to the footman.

  “’Tis cold out there, miss,” he said. “If you’ll wait a minute. I’ll fetch you somethin’ to put on.”

  He went to a large carved wardrobe that stood in one corner of the hall and pulled out a fur cape.

  He put it round Gytha’s shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she smiled. “It’s very kind of you to think of it.”

  The footman opened the front door.

  Then she ran lightly down the steps to where a closed carriage was waiting on the gravel.

  The footman from the box opened the carriage door as she reached it.

  She looked in, aware in the fading light that somebody was sitting on the back seat.

  “You wanted to speak to me?” she asked.

  As she spoke, the footman gave her a sharp push.

  A hand came from the figure on the back seat and pulled her forward.

  As they did so, the door of the carriage was banged shut and the horses started off down the drive.

  “What – are you – doing? What is – happening?” Gytha cried.

  Then the presumed old lady pulled away a black shawl and she saw who it was.

  “Cousin Vincent!” she exclaimed. “What are – you doing? How – dare you take me away – like this?”

  As she spoke, Jonathan, who had been sitting on the floor, pushed off the rug that covered him and he rose to sit on the seat with his back to the horses.

  She looked at him in astonishment.

  She could see that he was grinning as he said in his usual unpleasantly silky manner,

  “Dear little Gytha! How nice to see you again!”

  “You have no right to behave – like this!” Gytha cried angrily.

  “I think we have every right,” Vincent contradicted her.

  “You sneaked out of the house when we were both away. How could you do anything so disgraceful with your poor grandfather not yet in his grave?”

  Gytha steadied herself on the back seat.

  She sat as far away from her cousin Vincent as was possible.

  She realised in horror that she was being taken by force away from Lord Locke.

  “As you left in such a hurry without saying ‘goodbye’ to us,” Vincent said in his slow sarcastic drawl, “Jonathan and I have decided that there shall be no more arguments about your future.”

  “What do – you – mean?” Gytha asked.

  “We are going now to the Church,” he answered, “where I, as the oldest member and in fact the Head of the Family, will marry you.”

  For a moment Gytha thought that she could not have heard him aright.

  Then she answered him furiously,

  “How dare you behave in this outrageous fashion? If you think I will marry you. then you are very much – mistaken!”

  “You have no choice, my dear Gytha,” Vincent said unpleasantly. “I have a loaded pistol in my pocket and, if you try to disobey me, I shall not hesitate to injure you so that you will find it difficult to escape a second time.”

  He paused a moment to snarl at her.

  “A bullet in your leg will cripple you for at least a month.”

  Because Gytha was so angry without thinking she retorted,

  “Perhaps you will miss me, as you missed Lord Locke this morning!”

  “So you knew it was I who shot at him?” Vincent sneered. “Well, there will be no need for me to kill him once you are my wife.”

  “There is no need for you – to marry me,” Gytha said. “As I have already told Lord Locke, I intend to let you and Jonathan – have my money and the house so long as you leave – his Lordship and me alone.”

  “A very commendable idea,” Vincent said mockingly, “but I expect in that case there would be a great deal of trouble from the Trustees of Uncle Robert’s estate.”

  His voice was even more unpleasant as he finished,

  “Whereas, if you are my wife, there will be no difficulty at all.”

  “I will not – marry you – I absolutely – refuse!” Gytha cried.

  “Then I will carry out my threat, which is not an idle one,” Vincent said. “And I am quite certain that, even if you are a little dazed with pain, that you will be capable of repeating your marriage vows.”

  She did not speak and Vincent carried on,

  “Of course, if you make no difficulties and do as I say, I am prepared to give you my word that I will no longer attack or threaten Lord Locke in any way.”

  He laughed, and it was an ugly sound, before he added maliciously,

  “I imagine, like so many other foolish women, you have lost your heart to him, therefore it might be a comfort for you to know that, as far as I am concerned, he will no longer be in any danger.”

  Gytha drew in her breath.

  She realised that Vincent was more perceptive than she had expected.

  He was aware in his own crafty way that she was in love with Lord Locke.

  And he guessed too that to save him she would be willing to sacrifice herself.

  She made one last bid for freedom.

  “If you and Jonathan will take my money,” she said, “I am sure it can be – quite easily arranged. All I would ask would be a small cottage for myself on the estate and – perhaps a field where I can keep the horses.”

  “It’s too late,” Vincent smirked.

  His eyes roamed over her insultingly as he continued,

  “I have already said, I have made up my mind that you will suit me admirably as a wife and Jonathan has been kind enough to obtain a Special Licence so that there should be no difficulties. Unless you make them.”

  ‘They have thou
ght of everything,’ Gytha told herself despairingly.

  Then, as she knew that she was trapped, she began to pray. To her father she prayed and to Lord Locke as well.

  She was saying under her breath over and over again as the carriage rolled on,

  ‘Save me! Save me!’

  *

  Lord Locke came downstairs only a few seconds after Gytha had left.

  Seeing the footman standing at the open front door, he said sharply,

  “It’s very cold. Why have you left the door open?”

  “I thought Miss Sullivan would be comin’ back, my Lord.”

  “Miss Sullivan?”

  As he spoke, Bates came hurrying into the hall with another footman right behind him.

  “I’m sorry, my Lord,” Bates said. “I was kept – ”

  Lord Locke, however, was not listening.

  “Do you mean to say that Miss Sullivan has gone out?” he asked the footman who was closing the door.

  “Yes, my Lord. A carriage comes with an old lady in it as says she wants to speak to Miss Sullivan and, when she goes down to the carriage, the footman who opens the door pushed her in! I sees it with me own eyes!”

  “What are you talking about?” Lord Locke asked in perplexity. “I cannot understand.”

  Bates was now beside him and said harshly,

  “Speak up, lad, tell his Lordship exactly what happened.”

  “It’s like this,” the footman said. “I tells Miss Sullivan an old lady wants to speak to ’er who’s not well enough to get out of ’er carriage, so Miss Sullivan says she’ll go to ’er.”

  He realised that Lord Locke and Bates were staring at him.

  “I gives ’er a fur wrap, my Lord,” he added defensively, “in case she were cold – ”

  “Yes, yes,” Lord Locke said. “Then what happened?”

  “Like I says, my Lord, Miss Sullivan looks into the carriage and the footman as opens the door pushes ’er in, slams it and the carriage drives off. I couldn’t believe it were ’appening!”

  Lord Locke considered this for a moment and then he asked,

  “Have you ever seen the carriage or any of the people from it before?”

  “No, my Lord.”

  There was silence.

  Then the footman said tentatively,

  “I did ’ave an idea, my Lord, that as they was drivin’ off, I sees Mr. Jonathan Sullivan through the window.”