As she watched him follow the butler across the hall towards the red drawing room where the Duke and Duchess were waiting to receive him, she was vividly conscious of his personality.
It seemed to vibrate towards her in a manner as if he came from another planet rather than belonging to this.
Then she told herself she was being imaginative and he was just a man, if a rather extraordinary one.
Once he had disappeared into the red drawing room, Rocana jumped up from where she was crouching and ran up the stairs towards the schoolroom.
Caroline was waiting for her and when she appeared, she asked,
“Have you seen him?”
“Yes, and I thought that your description of him was very accurate. He is overpowering and I am quite certain he would be overbearing with everybody, especially his wife!”
Caroline gave a little murmur of fear.
“Suppose I cannot – escape from – him?”
“You must not think like that,” Rocana replied. “You must believe that everything will come right. If we want something hard enough and pray for it, our wishes always come true.”
She remembered as she spoke that she had wished ever since she had come to The Castle that she could get away from it, but neither her prayers nor her wishes had been answered.
Then she told herself that at the moment she had to concentrate on Caroline and she went on in a more emphatic tone,
“Just agree to everything that is suggested and try to look happy.”
“I am frightened – very frightened!” Caroline said again. “Oh, Rocana, come downstairs with me!”
Rocana laughed.
“Can you imagine how angry your mother would be if I did?”
“I shall make a mess of everything without you.”
“Think about Patrick, remember how much you love him and that nobody else is of any consequence.”
Because Rocana spoke so firmly Caroline said meekly,
“I will – try.”
She was however trembling when a footman came upstairs to say,
“Her Ladyship’s wanted in the red drawing room immediately!”
Caroline went so white that Rocana was half-afraid she would faint.
Then as she drew her towards the door she whispered,
“Patrick, think of Patrick as he is thinking of you.”
She knew as she spoke that Patrick’s name gave Caroline courage and she walked down the stairs with her head held high.
Rocana went back into the schoolroom to wait.
As she did so, she saw the book she had been reading, which was by Sir Walter Scott, lying open and wondered if all she would know of real life would be in books.
She could feel herself thrill to the dramas that Sir Walter unfolded so brilliantly in his novels, and she lived through everything that happened to his heroines, immersing herself in them until she suffered as they suffered, she loved as they loved.
Now she went to the window to look out at the sunset, thinking as she did so that her life would always be a cardboard one, made up of things rather than feelings, trivialities rather than emotions.
Because she could not help it, she felt a sudden envy of Caroline that she had never felt before.
At least Caroline was living dramatically and, if she was really brave enough to elope with Patrick, she would be behaving just like the heroine of a novel and not like the staid, rather dull daughter of a very prosaic Duke.
‘She is lucky, so very lucky to have Patrick,’ Rocana thought.
Then she was ashamed not just to be happy for Caroline without thinking of herself.
It seemed a long time, although it was actually not more than ten minutes, before Caroline appeared upstairs again.
She came into the room and Rocana saw at once how frightened she was.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
It seemed difficult at first for Caroline to find her voice.
Then she said,
“I think so – but, oh, Rocana, he terrified me! He seems completely menacing – just like an ogre in a fairy story. If he carries me away – how will Patrick ever be able to save me?”
Rocana caught hold of her hand and it was very cold.
“Patrick is going to save you,” she said, “and, Caroline, you have to act as he told you to do, as if you liked the Marquis and wish to be his wife.”
“I would rather die than marry him!” Caroline exclaimed. “There is something in the way he looks at me as if I was a ‘worm under his feet’ which tells me that really he – despises me and is just – making use of me for his – own ends.”
“If you think that is what he is doing,” Rocana said speaking calmly, “it makes it so much easier.”
“Why?” Caroline enquired.
“Because if he is not in love with you, he is not going to be perceptive about you. A man in love would know that you loved somebody else.”
Caroline assimilated this idea for a minute.
Then she said,
“You are so – sensible, Rocana. You always make me feel – brave.”
“If you run away with Patrick, I will think you are the bravest person I have ever known!”
Caroline smiled.
“Will you really? I am only brave because Patrick loves me.”
“Then that is all that matters. Now come and change, Caroline, and make yourself look attractive or else the Marquis might change his mind!”
“That is what I want him to do.”
Rocana shook her head.
“No, that would be a mistake. If it were not the Marquis, you know as well as I do that your mother would find somebody else equally important, and then it might not be so easy as I hope it is going to be this time, for Patrick to take you away.”
As this seemed to Caroline to be logical, she allowed Rocana to dress her in one of the prettiest gowns she had brought back from London.
It was of white gauze decorated round the neck and hem with small pink roses that made her look very young and spring-like.
Rocana then arranged a tiny wreath of roses at the back of her head and clasped a necklace of small pearls that her father had given her for her last birthday round her neck.
“You look lovely, dearest!” Rocana exclaimed.
“I wish Patrick could see me!”
“Just keep thinking that he will in a short time be seeing you every day for the rest of your lives.”
“I can think of nothing else.”
Then, because they both knew it would be a mistake for her to be late for dinner, Rocana took her to the top of the stairs and watched her walk down them, thinking how beautiful and graceful she looked.
Then, as she went off into the schoolroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrors that was hung on the landing outside.
She was wearing a gown that Caroline had discarded before she went to London.
It was shabby and Caroline had been wearing it for two years before the Duchess had given it to her.
Caroline’s clothes were the only things she had to wear because she had grown out of the gowns she had worn before going into mourning for her father.
But the Duchess made sure that those that were passed down to her were the least becoming of anything that Caroline owned.
She was also mean enough to remove any trimmings that might have embellished the gowns and made them more attractive.
Usually Rocana had ceased to care what she wore or how she looked, but just for a moment she envisaged herself wearing a gown like Caroline’s.
She knew because she resembled her cousin, but more especially her mother, she would look very attractive.
Then with a little smile she told herself that only in her dreams would she wear such gowns and it was no use thinking about it.
*
Once again Rocana was in bed and reading the last chapter of Ivanhoe when Caroline came into her bedroom.
She put down her book and sat up a little further against th
e pillows as her cousin shut the door and came across to the bed to say in a voice that was little louder than a whisper,
“He has asked me to – marry him and says he – wishes the wedding to take place in – ten days’ time!”
Rocana stared at her cousin incredulously.
“I cannot believe it!”
“That is what he said and he made an excuse for such haste that he has to go to Paris on business which concerns the Prince Regent, and he thought how – pleasant it would be for us to spend our – honeymoon – there!”
Caroline spoke as if the words were wrenched from her lips and Rocana asked,
“Surely Aunt Sophie did not agree?”
“He had already talked to Papa and Mama and they not only agreed, but thought it was a delightful idea for me to go to Paris.”
Rocana did not speak and Caroline went on,
“They were quite agreeable for the wedding to be small and take place here with only our friends and relations and just a few of the Marquis’s who are prepared to make the journey from London.”
“He must be in more of a mess than we imagined!” Rocana commented reflectively.
“I must tell Patrick at once!” Caroline exclaimed.
“You will see him tomorrow at the Steeplechase,” Rocana replied. “I was going to advise you not to speak to him in front of anybody else, but I daresay you will be able to pretend to be making a fuss of his horse.”
She paused and then added urgently,
“But do be careful! If anybody sees you looking at each other, they would guess at once you are in love!”
“We must run away at the weekend,” Caroline said, or the very latest the beginning of next week!”
“Of course,” Rocana agreed.
Then, as she spoke, the door opened and both she and Caroline gasped as the Duchess came into the room.
For one terrified moment Rocana thought she must have heard what her daughter just said.
But surprisingly her aunt was smiling and she said in a quite pleasant tone to Caroline,
“I thought I would find you here, telling Rocana the good news!”
Nervously Caroline rose to her feet.
“Yes, Mama – that is what I was – telling her.”
“You are a very lucky girl! And although it seems extraordinary that you should be married in such a hurry, I do understand the dear Marquis’s wishes to take you to Paris with him.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Of course,” the Duchess went on, “it leaves very little time for you and me to buy your trousseau.”
“My – trousseau?” Caroline repeated rather stupidly.
“You can hardly be married without one,” the Duchess said, “and considering the position your bridegroom holds, what you wear will be of extreme importance!”
She gave an exasperated sigh before she went on,
“I had been planning that you would outshine every bride there has ever been and certainly your wedding gown must be sensational. But while we will get as many gowns as possible ready before the happy day, the rest can be finished by the time you return to England.”
Caroline did not speak, she could only look at her mother with the expression of a frightened rabbit.
Rocana held her breath as she knew already what the Duchess was going to say next.
“You and I will leave tomorrow morning as early as possible for London,” the Duchess continued. “You will miss the Steeplechase, but that will not matter, for the Marquis has already said that he is returning to London when it is over and will not be staying to dinner.”
“We are – going to – London, Mama?”
“Don’t be stupid, Caroline,” the Duchess said sharply. “We can hardly choose your clothes while we are sitting here at The Castle!”
She turned to look at Rocana and went on,
“You had better get up, Rocana, and start packing for Caroline. It is too late to wake Nanny, but she and the housemaids can finish off anything you have forgotten in the morning.”
“Yes, Aunt Sophie.”
“And try not to forget anything,” the Duchess continued, her voice sharpening. “You know how careless you can be when you waste your brain poring over books, instead of attending to more practical matters.”
She looked disparagingly at Ivanhoe and moving to the door, she said,
“Your father and I are very happy, Caroline, that you will be the wife of a very important man and, when we are in London, I shall take the opportunity of instructing you as to what will be required of you when you take your position at his side at Court ceremonies.”
With an unmistakable look of satisfaction in her eyes, the Duchess walked out of the room closing the door behind her.
Neither of the girls spoke until they could no longer hear her heavy footsteps going down the stairs.
Then Caroline gave a cry like a small animal that has been caught in a trap.
“If I am to be in London – with Mama,” she cried, “how can I – run away with – Patrick?”
She sounded so desperate that Rocana said quickly,
“You will have to come back here for the wedding, and I am sure he will think of some way to spirit you away in time.”
“Supposing Mama keeps me there until the last moment? You know what she is like when she is worrying over clothes!”
“You will have to come back eventually,” Rocana persisted.
“Patrick meant to leave – before that.”
“I will see Patrick,” Rocana promised, “and although it will be difficult, I will somehow send a message to you. I will write in a very guarded way and you will have to read between the lines.”
She thought before she added,
“It will be a kind of code.”
“Suppose I don’t understand and Mama reads it?”
“We will give Patrick the name of one of the horses or something like that,” Rocana answered. “Leave it to me. I will think of something before tomorrow morning.”
“But I cannot go to London!” Caroline cried. “Perhaps I can be ill so that it will be impossible for Mama to take me.”
“You have to go,” Rocana replied. “There is no other way. But you must write and tell me on what day you are coming back and I will tell Patrick so that he can make his plans accordingly.”
She saw that Caroline was trembling and on the verge of tears, so she got out of bed and, sitting beside her, she put her arms around her.
“You have to be brave,” she urged. “These are only obstacles to be overcome before you can be with Patrick and free of the Marquis.”
“Supposing they are – too high and I cannot – escape before I am – married to him?”
“You will escape,” Rocana said firmly. “I ‘feel it in my bones’, as Nanny would say.”
Then, as she felt Caroline was not convinced, she said,
“I feel it in another way too, which Papa always used to say was part of the magic Mama had.”
“Do you mean – clairvoyantly?” Caroline asked with a sob in her voice.
“Rather like that,” Rocana agreed, “but it is more a kind of instinct or a feeling inside me, that tells me when things will come right, however difficult they may appear.”
She thought as she spoke of how in the past she had known beforehand not only when things had come right, but when they were going to be wrong.
When her mother had been bitten by a snake when they were walking through long grass one hot summer, she had known that she would die, even though the doctors were quite certain that the bite was not really serious.
She had known, although she would not face it even to herself, when her father had gone out hunting on a cold winter’s day, when there was frost in the air and he had expected to be home early, that he would not return.
She had gone out to the stables and insisted,
“It is a rotten day for hunting. Don’t go, Papa! Please, stay here!”
“Whether it is rotten or not,” her
father had replied, “I need the exercise. Besides, dearest, there are some friends I promised to see. If I am late, you will know that I have stopped to have a drink with them.”
He had kissed her and swung himself into the saddle before looking down and adding,
“I wish you were coming with me, but we will ride together tomorrow. Take care of yourself.”
It was what she wanted to say to him as he had ridden away.
She had watched him go and, in some strange way she could not account for to herself, she had known that he was riding with his top hat at a raffish angle out of her life and they would not be together tomorrow morning.
Now she said to Caroline and there was a note in her voice that was very convincing,
“I promise you, dearest, however difficult it will be, however many fences we have to jump on the way, you will reach the winning post and marry Patrick.”
“You are sure – really sure? Can you see with your ‘magic eye’ that it will – come true?”
“My magic eye never lies,” Rocana smiled. “You will never be the Marchioness of Quorn, but the wife of Patrick Fairley.”
Caroline threw her arms around her neck and kissed her cheek.
“That is what I want more than anything in all the world and I believe you, Rocana – I do really – believe you!”
CHAPTER THREE
Rocana waited until she had seen Caroline, the Duchess and Nanny off immediately breakfast was over and then hurried upstairs to change into her riding habit.
As she did so, she knew that she was neglecting the Duchess’s last instructions which had been very explicit.
She had called Rocana in her room as she and Caroline were going downstairs and, pointing to a large pile of garments on a chair, she ordered,
“While I am away you will mend these, and I shall be extremely annoyed if they are not finished by the time I return.”
She spoke in that sharp, harsh voice which expressed her dislike of her niece and which was echoed by the expression in her eyes.
Rocana did not speak and after a moment the Duchess went on,
“I have been thinking over what you will do when Caroline is married. I have now decided that you will concentrate on your sewing.”
Rocana stiffened and the Duchess added,
“I have no intention of allowing you to waste your time as you do at the moment riding and reading. You will work in the capacity of sewing-maid and I shall make sure that you spend your time more usefully than you have been doing up until now.”
The Unbreakable Spell Page 4