Sailing to Love

by Barbara Cartland

  She thought as she said the last words that this was something she had never expected to happen to anyone she knew.

  She would never have considered it possible for herself.

  But as it had happened, and she was very fond of Mary however difficult it might be, she had to save her.

  ‘And if she’s carrying David’s child,’ she thought, ‘how could she pretend to her unwanted husband it was his child?’

  She took her handkerchief and wiped Mary’s eyes.

  “You need not marry this man,” she said, “because I’m going to take your place.”

  Mary stared at her.

  “You would make such a sacrifice for me? But how can you?”

  “Because I have no one that I love or who loves me. And so I will marry this man chosen for you by the Queen. I only hope that in some way we will become friends and perhaps enjoy each other’s company.”

  Mary gave a cry.

  “But how can you be sure Papa won’t guess that I’m not the bride?”

  “That is where we have to be very clever,” Venetia said. “You must pretend to agree to this marriage. Be charming to the Earl when he comes to your house.”

  “How can I do that when I hate him?”

  “He is of no importance to you,” Venetia said. “I am marrying him but if he’s ghastly as he may be, I will at least not have a broken heart, as yours would break if you have to leave David.

  “So you have to listen now to exactly what you have to do. It is the same as going on the stage. One mistake and the audience will laugh at you. Or, in this case, they will be very angry with you.”

  “I will do exactly what you tell me to do,” Mary promised. “Oh!”

  “What is it?” Venetia asked, seeing her stricken look.

  “There’s something I forgot to tell you.”

  “I’m sure there is. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve been forgetful and scatter brained. All right, tell me the worst.”

  “As soon as the wedding has taken place the Earl has to go to India.”

  Venetia stared at her.

  “India?”

  “Yes, for about a year.”

  Venetia drew a long breath and spoke with ominous calm.

  “Where in India?”

  “A place called – um – the North-West frontier. I think. Or it might have been Calcutta. Or do I mean Delhi?” “And you just forgot to tell me?”

  “Well, I don’t know anything about India,” Mary said fretfully. “It’s just – abroad, isn’t it?”

  “It’s part of the British Empire. So I suppose it’s still abroad. What is the Earl going to do when he gets there?”

  Mary’s eyes glazed and Venetia guessed that this was another detail that had escaped her attention.

  “He’s – he’s going to be – attached to something,” she said wildly.

  “You didn’t happen to find out what he’s attached to?” Venetia asked patiently.

  “It’s to do with the Government – or he’s carrying important documents – or something like that.”

  It was clearly useless to expect any more from her and Venetia gave up. Besides, a thrilling anticipation was growing inside her.

  India.

  The exotic East. Another world, thousands of miles away from her quiet little corner of England.

  And she had thought she would never know excitement.

  Now, all the excitement anyone could possibly want, was being handed to her. To refuse was impossible. This was fate.

  Suddenly Venetia laughed.

  “Very well,” she said. “India it is. When is he going?”

  “Immediately after the reception,” Mary explained breathlessly.

  “What?”

  “He’s leaving on the Angelina, a specially chartered ship that sails from Portsmouth that evening. We have to leave immediately after the reception.”

  Venetia gasped. Everything was rushing along much too fast for her. But she had said that she would do it and she could not back out now.

  “Very well,” she said. “I’ll make a note of it.”

  “Oh, you are so wonderful,” Mary said ecstatically. “The way you plan and organise things. I could never do it.”

  “That is undoubtedly true,” Venetia said, rather amused. “How fortunate that you don’t have to organise anything – otherwise the Earl might end up married to you, me, and probably your mother as well.”

  Mary giggled and Venetia was pleased to see her looking happier.

  “But you simply must follow my instructions closely or we will be discovered.” she added.

  “I will do exactly as you say. But please come with me now so that you can stop me making mistakes.”

  “Come home with you?” Venetia questioned.

  “Yes, after all you’re invited to the wedding, and I’ll say I wanted you to help me with my trousseau.”

  “Yes, it probably is better if I stay close by you,” Venetia reflected. “Wait, I’ve had an idea. “If I have to go away to India with the Earl, this house will be empty. You must escape with your David while I am at the church marrying in your place and you two must be married at once. Then you must move into this house and live here.”

  Mary hugged her.

  “You think of everything.”

  “I hope so. Now let’s hurry upstairs so that I can pack.”

  Upstairs she packed all her very best clothes.

  “Of course you must look smart when you arrive in India,” Mary said.

  “If I ever do arrive,” Venetia answered with a smile.

  “Of course the deceived bridegroom might drop me off en route or send me back by the first ship we meet which is returning home. Or I suppose he might just toss me over the side.” She added cheerfully, “It’ll be fun finding out.”

  “Oh Venetia, you’re so brave.”

  “Well, you may have to be brave too because if he murders me I’ll come back and haunt you.”

  It was when finally everything was packed in the carriage that Venetia took Johnson to one side and said,

  “I am going to The Priory with Miss Mary and leaving everything in your hands. I might be away for quite a while. I’ve left some money in the desk to cover expenses.”

  On their way to The Priory they passed through a small village, where Mary stopped briefly at a shop.

  “They take my messages to David,” she told Venetia when she emerged. “I’ve asked him to meet me tonight in our place in the woods.”

  At last the carriage arrived at The Priory.

  As the butler and two footmen hurried out to take their luggage upstairs, Venetia followed Mary into the drawing room.

  Lady Wenmore was sitting at the writing desk. She got up when she saw Venetia had followed her daughter into the room and smiled as she heard Mary’s explanation.

  “How lovely to see you, Venetia,” she said. “It’s so kind of you to come and help.”

  Venetia smiled and responded politely, playing the role she had assigned herself. But she was thinking how much she disliked this chilly, haughty woman.

  “I thought, with everything happening so quickly, you might need my help,” she said sweetly.

  Lady Wenmore smiled.

  “My husband is delighted that Her Majesty should have chosen such a charming and delightful husband for Mary.”

  Venetia longed to ask how it was possible to know he was charming and delightful when no-one had actually met the man in question. But she knew it was the sort of thing she should not say.

  Upstairs in her room, they unpacked her clothes, and Mary said,

  “Now I must slip out and see David, to tell him everything. I’ll be back soon.”

  When she was alone Venetia did some thinking. Gradually more details of her plan were emerging in her mind. At last she went downstairs and sought out Lady Wenmore in the drawing room.

  “I must speak to you,” she said. “It’s important. You know that Mary is unhappy about this marriage?”


  “I know that the silly girl is making difficulties,” Mary’s mother said impatiently. “I’m happy to see that you have brought her to her senses.”

  “I hope so,” Venetia said quietly. “But we are living more or less on a volcano. I feel that at any moment Mary will break down and have hysterics. I mean to prevent that if possible.”

  “I shall be very grateful. But how?”

  “I feel it would be a mistake for Sir Edward to take Mary to the church. If he does so I think Mary will cling to him at the last moment and perhaps refuse to go ahead with the marriage.”

  Lady Wenmore gave a cry but did not interrupt and Venetia went on,

  “I think it best for you and Mary’s father to go to the church ahead and not to say goodbye to her. Just move away and she will know that you will be there when she arrives.”

  “But this is so unconventional,” Lady Wenmore murmured.

  “So is this whole wedding,” Venetia could not resist saying. “We must take emergency measures to make sure that everything goes smoothly and the Earl is not insulted.”

  Lady Wenmore moaned at the thought.

  “I will get her dressed,” Venetia said. “She and the bridegroom must go to the church together. It’s unusual, but we can’t help that. If he is wise he will travel in silence.”

  “I will tell him that she is very nervous and very shy,” Lady Wenmore said.

  “Which is true,” Venetia said. “I think also that it will be wise for you not to follow her and the Earl to the vestry where they will sign the register. Instead arrange for them to go there alone, and then leave immediately by the door at the back, where the carriage which will carry them back to the house will be waiting.”

  “You mean she won’t walk back down the aisle on her husband’s arm?” Lady Wenmore protested.

  “I think you need to get her out of the church quickly, before she has too much time to reflect,” Venetia said firmly.

  “You are right, of course. I will tell my husband that he and I will go to the church in advance. We will make sure everything is arranged exactly as you want.”

  “Excellent. After all, we both want Mary to be happy for the rest of her life,” Venetia said.

  Then she hurried back upstairs to find that Mary had returned.

  “Everything is arranged,” she told her. “Your parents will go on to the church without you. The bride and groom will follow together. While we’re all at the church you will make your escape with David.”

  “Thank you, thank you, darling Venetia,” she cried.

  “You are so kind and so understanding and I can only pray that you will not be punished for all this.”

  “I will be hoping the same,” Venetia answered with a smile. “But don’t worry about me. Just make sure that you and David vanish before they come back from the church.”

  “But what about the reception?”

  “Neither the bride nor the groom will be there. I’ve made a new plan. The Queen is going to send the Earl a letter insisting that he depart immediately, without attending the reception.”

  “Is she?” Mary asked, wide-eyed.

  “No, of course she isn’t. I’m going to write it on Windsor writing paper. You told me your father had some in his office. Get it for me quickly.”

  Mary was back in a moment with several sheets of paper.

  “There will be one letter to the Earl and one to your father,” she said, “explaining why the bride and groom won’t be at the reception. And a third letter to the Captain of the Angelina, saying that he must be ready to depart as soon as the Earl boards, which will be sooner than expected.”

  Venetia was already writing.

  “There. Now it’s done. Is there a servant you can trust to take this letter to Portsmouth tonight?”

  “One of the footmen will do anything for me,” Mary confided. “Give it to me, and I’ll find him.”

  When she had gone Venetia sat down, wondering what on earth she was doing. Was she mad?

  Well, it was too late to wonder about that now.

  “It’s done,” Mary said, returning. “I gave him money for the train fare and he’s on his way to Portsmouth. It’s not a long journey so he should be back tonight.”

  “Then all that is left is for you and the Earl to meet this evening. Be very careful what you say to him. In fact, say as little as possible. Try to sound shy but not in any way aggressive.”

  “I will be careful, I promise you I will.”

  “Then let us decide what we are going to wear this evening.”

  They decided on a soft pink gown that made Mary look demure. Venetia’s gown was a deep blue satin that brought out the colour of her eyes. It was a year old, for she could not afford to replace it, but it made her seem elegant and fashionable.

  At last they heard a carriage draw up on the gravel outside.

  “Are you ready?” Venetia asked.

  “I think so,” Mary said in a trembling voice.

  “Remember you have to act your part as if you are on the stage. Be quiet simple and charming. No one must suspect for a moment that we are arranging a revolution which will astound and eventually horrify everyone.”

  But although she sounded in command, the truth was that she felt very nervous as they descended the stairs.

  Sir Edward was waiting with the Earl of Mountwood. There was another young man standing just in the background, but Venetia barely noticed him.

  “Ah, my dear,” Sir Edward said genially. “How pretty you look. Lord Mountwood, allow me to present my daughter and her friend, Miss Venetia Baydon.

  The two girls sank into polite curtsies. Over her head Venetia was aware that the Earl was extending his hand to Mary, murmuring something.

  Then it was her turn. She rose to her feet and found herself gazing into the eyes of the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Venetia realised that, until that moment, she had not seriously considered Lord Mountwood as a person. She had known a little about him from her father’s friends, that he was a Lothario who made love to many women, moving easily from one to the other. She knew that he had resisted marriage in case it spoilt his pleasure. She had also heard that he was good-looking.

  But as she looked at him now she discovered that nothing she had heard bore any relevance to the real man. He was, quite simply, overwhelming.

  He was very tall and broad shouldered, with a commanding presence. He looked splendid in evening attire with a sparkling diamond in his snowy cravat. He looked as though he expected to snap his fingers and have the world dance to his tune.

  Especially the female part, she thought wryly.

  Then she noticed something else. Although he was smiling, there was a dark glitter in his eyes that spoke of danger. This was not a man to be trifled with and one to be wary of.

  She began to wonder if her plan could possibly work after all. How would he take the deception? He might accept it with humour or his anger might be terrible.

  But then Venetia felt a strange, new feeling go through her. It was so unfamiliar that at first she did not recognise it.

  It was a thrill of sensual delight, something that no man had ever created in her before.

  This man challenged her as nobody had ever challenged her in her life before. And something deep inside her rose willingly to the challenge.

  “Miss Baydon?” he said, sounding slightly puzzled.

  She realised that she had been staring at him and pulled herself together.

  “Sir,” she said demurely.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, madam,” he said with a slight bow.

  His eyes lingered on her in a way that she found disconcerting. Then he turned to the young man standing just behind him.

  “May I introduce Lord Anthony Berwick, who is to be my best man?”

  Lord Anthony was a willowy young man with a good-natured if slightly vacant expression. He greeted everyone pleasantly, but with very few words. He seemed happ
ier standing in silence.

  “My daughter has looked forward to this meeting, sir,” said Sir Edward to the Earl.

  “As have I,” the Earl said. “I hope Miss Wenmore does not find me a disappointment.”

  Mary coloured and said hastily,

  “Oh no, not at all.”

  “I’m happy to know that,” he said.

  His manner was charming, but Venetia wondered if she detected a fine edge of irony in his tone. He must surely be aware of how incredible this situation was, yet he seemed untroubled by it.

  Then suddenly he glanced in her direction. For an instant their eyes met, and she almost gasped with the conviction that he could read her thoughts.

  It was as though the two of them understood each other and nobody else did.

  “Dinner is served.”

  The butler’s announcement came as a relief. With a flourish, Lord Mountwood offered his arm to Mary, who accepted it without fuss, Venetia was relieved to see. Sir Edward and Lady Wenmore followed, while Venetia and Lord Anthony brought up the rear.

  Sitting next to him at dinner she discovered him to be rather shy. He was a young man of very few words – possibly because he did not know many.

  “I think Ivan and Miss Wenmore look jolly good together,” he said.

  “Ivan? Oh, you mean Lord Mountwood?”

  “That’s right. She’s very pretty, isn’t she? She’ll just suit him.”

  “But will he suit her?” Venetia asked, rather indignantly.

  “Eh? Oh I say, yes. Of course he will. Rich as Croesus, you know. She’ll have everything she wants.”

  “I should have thought that rather depended on what she wanted,” Venetia observed.

  “Well, all you ladies want the same, surely?”

  “Do we indeed? And what would that be?”

  “Well, you know.”

  “I don’t know. Tell me.”

  “Well – ” he repeated unhappily, “a title, plenty of money, a good husband – I say, I haven’t said the wrong thing have I?”

  Venetia relented at the piteous expression on his face. Being annoyed with Lord Anthony would be like taking shots at a baby rabbit. She was about to tell him not to worry when he sighed and said,