Solita and the Spies Read online

  SOLITA AND THE SPIES

  Solita arrives alone in London from Italy where she has been living to confront the Duke of Calverleigh.

  She is angry and hurt with him because although ostensibly he is her guardian, he has neglected her for ten years.

  The Duke who, after serving in the army in India had unexpectedly come into the title, had actually forgotten about the child, the daughter of one of his brother officers, whom he had placed in the care of his cousin.

  He is very conscious of his lapse of memory which is in part due to his present infatuation for the beautiful Russian Princess Zenka Kozlovski.

  Solita has an unusual perception which tells her the Princess is evil and the Duke is therefore in danger.

  Because the Duke, when he was in India was involved in the secret espionage of the British Raj, he is appalled when he learns that Princess Zenka and her brother Prince Ivan are plotting to use him as a pawn in the Russian infiltration amongst the Indians, and also to get him into their power by forcing him to marry the Princess.

  How Solita saves the Duke from destruction, how she helps him find a secret, very important to the India Office, and how finally they find both safety and love is told in this fascinating, dramatic story of love and intrigue, the 414th book by Barbara Cartland.

  First published 1989

  Author’s Note

  The British invented submarine cables and by the 1890s had encompassed their Empire with them.

  Between 1870 and 1897 the Colonial Office telegraph bill had risen from £800 a year to about £8,000.

  The network had its weaknesses, but it was an amazing speeding up of communications which is unparallelled in history.

  The first routes to India were unsatisfactory as they ran across hostile countries, and were constantly interfered with. In 1870 the British opened a submarine cable via Gibraltar, Malta, Alexandria, Suez and Aden to Bombay – all safely marked in red on the globe.

  If any of these routes were cut there was no Southern link from India. The only alternative route was the vulnerable line to Australia through Java.

  All over the world Englishmen were at work, laying and maintaining these cables or operating ‘booster’ stations along the line.

  The centre station of the Overland Telegraph at Alice Springs, Australia, was one of the loneliest places in the Empire.

  It was a thousand miles South of Darwin, a thousand miles North of Adelaide, the nearest towns.

  Yet sometimes the sudden clatter of the Morse machine miraculously linked Alice Springs for a minute or two with Calcutta, Malta and the Imperial Capital on the other side of the world.

  All this vast expertise of ships and mails and cable stations made the British master of international movement.

  Nobody else operated on such a scale and, as Kipling wrote in his poem called, ‘The Deep Sea Cables’,

  They have wakened the timeless things; they have killed their father time;

  Joining hands in the gloom a league from the last of the sun.

  Hush! Men talk today o’er the waste of the ultimate slime,

  And a new word runs between, whispering, ‘Let us be one!’

  Chapter One 1882

  The train came to a standstill and Solita looking out realised she had arrived at her destination.

  Her trunk was with her in the same carriage because, when she told the porter where she was going, he had said,

  “That be a ’alt, miss, and the guard’s van don’t come up to the platform.”

  She had not understood until she saw now that the halt consisted of a very small building and a platform which was little more than the length of one carriage.

  She stepped out and a porter who seemed somewhat old and decrepit pulled out her trunk.

  As he did so, two smartly dressed footmen in a spectacular livery walked across the platform to the carriage next to hers.

  She realised they were meeting somebody who had travelled in the same train as she had, but she was not particularly interested.

  Instead she said to the porter who was wheeling away her trunk in a truck,

  “I would like a Hackney carriage, please.”

  “You won’t find one ’ere,” he replied.

  Solita did not believe him until they were outside the halt, then she saw only two vehicles there.

  One was a very smart phaeton in yellow with black wheels drawn by two jet-black horses. The other was an open brake used, she knew, for servants and luggage.

  She stood irresolute, wondering what she should do.

  Then she heard the train move off and a gentleman came from the platform.

  He was very impressive, tall, broad-shouldered, smartly dressed with his top hat perched at an angle on his dark head.

  He walked without hurrying himself to the phaeton and, only as he reached, it did Solita find her voice.

  “Excuse me, sir,” she said, “but as there appears to be no conveyance here for strangers, would you be kind enough to give me a lift as far as Calver Castle?”

  The gentleman who was just about to step into his phaeton turned to look at her.

  She thought he was surprised at her appearance and she added quietly,

  “I-I am sorry to – bother you, but I cannot think of any other way that I can reach The castle.”

  “You are a guest there?”

  “Not exactly, but I have to – see His Grace the Duke.”

  The gentleman seemed to hesitate, until, as if making up his mind, he said,

  “Then of course, I must take you to him.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  Solita hurried round the phaeton to climb lithely into the other seat.

  The gentleman was already holding the reins and, almost before she had seated herself, the groom who had been holding the horses’ heads let them go.

  He ran swiftly to climb into the seat behind.

  The phaeton was moving and she wondered what would have happened if he had been unable to reach it.

  They drove away from the halt and now she could see the countryside was very green, the trees were coming into bud and the primroses already appearing in the hedgerows.

  They drove a little way before the gentleman asked her,

  “You say you wish to see the Duke. I am interested to know why.”

  Because Solita had been appreciating the countryside, she replied without thinking,

  “I wish to inform him that he is callous, selfish, insensitive and very ungrateful!”

  As she spoke, she realised she had been indiscreet and added a little incoherently,

  “Forgive me – that is – something I – should not have – said to a stranger.”

  “I am curious to know what the Duke has done to offend you.”

  “That is something which I shall – impart to His Grace,” Solita answered.

  They drove on some way before the gentleman remarked,

  “Surely you are very young to be travelling alone – ?”

  He almost added,

  “ – and much too pretty!”

  He had in fact been surprised when she had asked him for a lift, and he turned to see two very large blue eyes in a small heart-shaped face looking at him.

  He realised her hair was the colour of sunshine.

  He thought it extraordinary, looking as she did, that she should be travelling un-chaperoned, even if the Calver Halt was only a short distance from London.

  “I have to look after – myself,” Solita said in answer to his question, “and that – too is the – Duke’s fault!”

  “I am sure he has many sins attributed to him,” the gentleman said cynically, “but I cannot conceive how he managed to overlook your need of a chaperone!”

&nb
sp; He was laughing at her, Solita thought, and her chin went up because she considered he was being impertinent.

  “Do you know the Duke well?” she asked when they had driven on a little further.

  “Well enough to know that he would not enjoy your condemnation of him.”

  “He deserves – everything I have said, and a good deal more!” Solita replied sharply.

  “I think you are rather condemning the poor man without giving him a chance to defend himself,” the gentleman remarked.

  “Some – things are – indefensible,” Solita asserted hesitantly.

  She obviously did not want to say any more and they drove quite a distance before the gentleman asked,

  “When you are not condemning Dukes for their sins, what do you do with yourself?”

  “I have only just returned from abroad,” Solita said, “and I think England is very beautiful.”

  “And you intend to stay here?”

  “I think I shall have to – in which case I must find a way of keeping myself.”

  “Do you mean you have no money?” the gentleman enquired.

  Solita nodded before she responded,

  “I have been thinking what I can do and I am sure the only possibility open to me is to be a ballet-dancer.”

  The gentleman turned his head to look at her in astonishment.

  “A ballet-dancer?” he questioned.

  “I have been told that the ballet-dancers of Covent Garden are admired and feted by the gentlemen who frequent the clubs of St. James’s.”

  “And that is what you want?”

  Now there was no doubt of the cynicism in the way he spoke.

  “It is the only real talent I have,” Solita said, “except an aptitude for languages.”

  The gentleman did not speak and she went on almost as if she was talking to herself,

  “But I doubt, as I am so young, that I would be employed as a Governess or a teacher in a school. Anyway the English seldom bother to seek the languages of other nationalities.”

  “Is that what you have found in your long life?”

  It was obvious that the gentleman was once again mocking her and she replied,

  “If you mean it is what I have observed – yes! When the English cannot make themselves understood by the natives whom they despise, they shout at them, but of course in English!”

  The gentleman laughed as if he could not help it.

  “You are very scathing, Miss – ”

  He paused and added,

  “Now I think of it, you have not yet told me your name.”

  “I see no reason why I should do so, sir, especially as you have just pointed out, there is no chaperone to introduce us.”

  The gentleman laughed again and it was a genuine sound of amusement.

  “Very well,” he said, “if you wish to be mysterious – but let me tell you – I do not think that you are suited to be a ballet-dancer!”

  “Why not?” Solita asked.

  “Because, unless I am mistaken, you are a lady.”

  “Why should that matter, if one can dance well?”

  The gentleman thought there were a number of reasons he could give her, but he chose his words carefully.

  “Ballet-dancers, as you say, are feted by the gentlemen of St. James’s, but they are expected to respond to the presents they receive.”

  Solita turned her face to look at him in surprise.

  “Do you mean – they have to – thank for them?”

  “They are expected to do more than thank.”

  “I do not – understand.”

  “Why should you?” the gentleman enquired. “Take my advice and believe me when I tell you that a ballet-dancer’s life is not for you.”

  Solita sighed.

  “In which case, I shall have to make the Duke do his duty, which he should have done in the first place.”

  “I have always believed he was very conscious of his responsibilities,” the gentleman remarked.

  She did not reply and after a moment he asked,

  “Tell me what His Grace has done to offend you.”

  He spoke coaxingly in a way most women found irresistibly attractive.

  Solita, however, only lifted her chin a little higher as she said,

  “If I told you, I expect, because you are a friend of his, that you will try to make excuses for him!”

  The gentleman smiled.

  “I think he is quite capable of making his own.”

  “And I am sure he will be very plausible!” Solita retorted and now she was the one who was sarcastic.

  “What has happened?” the gentleman enquired, “that the Duke refuses to help you, as you seem to consider he should do?”

  There was silence and after a moment he said,

  “Perhaps you are thinking you might appeal to me!”

  Once again Solita turned to look at him and he was aware from the astonishment in her eyes that she had never thought of such a thing.

  “No – of course – not!” she exclaimed, “I would not think of – imposing myself on a stranger!”

  She paused before she went on,

  “I suppose really it was incorrect of me to ask you if you would give me a lift, but I had not thought there would not be a Hackney carriage at the halt, and I knew of no other way to reach The Castle.”

  She sounded so worried at what she seemed to think was an indiscretion that the gentleman said soothingly,

  “It was actually the sensible thing to do and it would have been very foolish of you to let me drive away.”

  “In which case I might have had to walk,” Solita said logically. “How far is it to The Castle?”

  “Over three miles.”

  “Oh dear, and I should not have known the way.”

  “So you see, you did the only sensible thing,” the gentleman commented, “and I must thank you for making my drive more interesting than it would otherwise have been.”

  Solita gave a little laugh.

  “Now you are definitely being kind to me and making me feel less guilty.”

  “That does not make me less curious,” the gentleman said, “And may I add that, if you are in trouble, I should like to help you.”

  “That is something the Duke has to do!” Solita replied firmly.

  There was a determination in the way she spoke that amused the gentleman. It was unusual in one so young.

  “You say you have been living abroad,” he asked, “but I know you are English. Are you glad to be back in your mother country?”

  “In a way. Even though it is strange and rather frightening, especially – ”

  She stopped as if she thought that once again she was being indiscreet.

  “You have no money,” the gentleman finished.

  “I have a little, but it will not last for ever.”

  “That is what we have all found at one time or another.”

  “So you understand that is why I have to think about myself,” Solita sighed.

  She looked at him pleadingly,

  “I really do dance very well. The dancing Master at my school said once that I was as good as any professional and that is what made me think of trying to find employment in a ballet in Covent Garden.”

  She looked at him a little anxiously as she added,

  “That is – the best in London, is it not?”

  “I have always heard so,” the gentleman said, “but I have already told you – forget the idea.”

  “Because I am a lady? I cannot believe they would turn me away just because of that!”

  “They would not turn you away if you really dance as well as you think you do,” the gentleman said, “but it is not the life for somebody who is gentle and well born – and educated, as you obviously are.”

  Solita sighed.

  “Then how do ladies, if they – need money – earn it?”

  “Ladies get married when they are your age and there must be somebody who could introduce you to the Social world
?”

  “I do not want to enter the Social world,” Solita said, “what I really want is enough money so that I can go to India.”

  “To India?” the gentleman exclaimed. “Why on earth should you want to go to India?”

  “For a very special reason of my own.”

  The gentleman was just about to ask her what it was when she gave a tittle cry.

  “Surely that is The castle!” she exclaimed. “It is exactly how I thought it would look!”

  Some way ahead of them, standing on an incline so that it was above the flat meadowland through which they were passing was Calver Castle.

  With trees protectingly around it and the sunshine shining on the old tower it looked like a jewel in a velvet setting.

  The ancient castle that had been built in Norman times was still there.

  Generation after generation had, however, added their own ideas to the original building until in the eighteenth century the hotchpotch had been swept away and a magnificent piece of Palladian architecture had taken its place.

  Now there was a centre block with wings stretching out on either side of it and only the grey tower stone was different to the white stone of the new mansion.

  The sun was glinting on what seemed to Solita to be a hundred windows and from this distance it looked as if the whole castle had stepped out of a fairy story.

  “It is – beautiful!” she said in a low voice.

  “I thought you would admire it,” the gentleman remarked.

  “How could anybody live in such a magnificent place and not have a character to match it?” Solita asked.

  Now it was obvious that she was thinking scathingly of the Duke.

  The gentleman’s eyes were twinkling as they drove on.

  They turned in through enormous wrought-iron gates with lodges on either side of them and then drove down a long avenue of oak trees.

  At the end they crossed a bridge over the lake and up an incline which led to The Castle itself.

  “I must thank you, sir, for bringing me here,” Solita said, “and I am extremely grateful that I did not have to walk!”

  “You would certainly not have arrived here so quickly,” the gentleman replied dryly.

  “Thank you very very much.”

  He was still holding the reins and Solita did not attempt to shake hands with him.