Never Laugh at Love Read online

  “The parcel is addressed to me and they live in Yorkshire.”

  “Then they must certainly be asked to the wedding,” Lady Forthingdale asserted.

  “It will be impossible to get any more into the Church,” Anthea replied.

  But even as she spoke she knew her mother would invite the Leightons and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

  She had hoped that the Duke would not be in a hurry to be married.

  But she thought, although he did not say so, that he was being urged by the Countess to get the ceremony over as soon as possible so that the Earl’s suspicions could be finally laid to rest.

  The wedding day was arranged for the second week in July and the Countess wrote to Lady Forthingdale saying that she wished not only to give Anthea her wedding gown and a most comprehensive trousseau, but also to provide bridesmaids’ dresses for Thais, Chloe and Phebe.

  The girls were ecstatic with excitement and could talk of little else.

  It was the Duke who brought the news of this act of generosity when he returned to Yorkshire for his second visit.

  He arrived at the house late in the afternoon when the family were all together in the drawing room and Lady Forthingdale was reciting a poem she had written in celebration of Anthea’s marriage.

  She had only just started the first line when there was a knock on the front door which, because it was so imperious, made Anthea know at once who had arrived.

  “Who can that be?” Lady Forthingdale asked, arrested in the midst of her recitation.

  “I will go and see,” Chloe answered before anyone else could reply. “Wait until I come back, Mama, I don’t want to miss a word.”

  She ran across the hall and, as Anthea had expected, gave a cry of delight when she saw who was outside.

  A moment later they heard her call out,

  “It’s the Duke! It’s the Duke! He is back! Oh, is it not exciting?”

  They had expected him shortly, but had not been quite certain which day he would arrive.

  Now, as he walked into the salon, he seemed to Anthea to be far too big and overpowering in the low-ceilinged room and so elegantly and faultlessly dressed that he made even the furniture look shabby.

  He raised Lady Forthingdale’s hand to his lips and then turned towards Anthea.

  She curtsied, but kept her eyes downcast, feeling they might reveal that she was the only person present who was not pleased to see him.

  Her coldness, if he realised it, did not perturb him.

  Completely at his ease, he gave Lady Forthingdale the letter from the Countess in which she described the gifts she intended to make to all the family.

  “How kind! How very kind!” Lady Forthingdale bubbled, as she read what her friend had written.

  “I also have brought gifts,” the Duke said and obviously noted with a faint smile the light that appeared in Thais, Chloe and Phebe’s eyes.

  “Sugared almonds!” Phebe said almost beneath her breath.

  “Sugared almonds!” the Duke echoed, “and other things as well!”

  “Where are they?” Chloe asked.

  “You will find them being unloaded in the hall,” he answered. “There is a very special present for your mother too.”

  “Come and look! Oh, Mama, come and look!” Chloe cried.

  Half protesting and yet intrigued, Lady Forthingdale allowed herself to be swept out of the sitting room into the hall.

  The Duke and Anthea were left behind and, although she had no wish to be alone with him, she would not lower herself to run after her family.

  “I have a present for you also, Anthea,” he intoned.

  “There is no need to give me one.”

  “I think everyone would consider it strange if I did not do so.”

  She realised then that he spoke of an engagement ring and because she thought she had been rude the colour rose in her cheeks.

  He drew a jewel box from his pocket and, when he opened it, she saw not the diamonds she had expected but instead a very beautiful ruby.

  It was exquisitely set with diamonds and in its depths glowed a mysterious fire.

  “I thought rubies would become you,” the Duke said. “This is your own and not part of the family collection.”

  He took her left hand as he spoke and put the ring on her third finger.

  “Thank – you,” Anthea managed to mumble and wondered why her fingers, because he touched them, trembled a little.

  “I hope it will make you happy,” he said unexpectedly.

  She longed to say that neither jewels nor gifts of any sort could do that, since happiness must come from the heart. But she was sure that he would not understand.

  Anyway how could she make him happy when she knew that he was yearning for the Countess and that they were being married only to save her good name?

  Fortunately there was no question of saying anything more because the girls, having collected the gifts the Duke had brought for them from London, poured back into the drawing room.

  They were wildly excited over a collection of new books, a habit and a riding whip for Chloe, a silk shawl for Thais and a whole number of small items for Phebe, which would keep her amused for months.

  ‘I wonder who chose them for him?’ Anthea ruminated.

  Then she told herself that doubtless he had well trained secretaries and servants who would be well aware what sort of expensive presents he would be expected to give his fiancée and her family.

  Then she remembered he had brought the Countess’s letter with him!

  So they had been seeing each other!

  Perhaps now that their engagement was announced to the newspapers the Earl was satisfied that his suspicions were unfounded.

  Or were they meeting clandestinely, prepared to risk discovery because they could not deny their love?

  Anthea wondered what the Countess really felt about the Duke being married.

  ‘If I was in love with a man,’ she thought, ‘I would hate him to marry someone else! I would be desperately jealous!’

  Then she told herself she was being conceited in making herself of such importance. How could her beautiful, alluring, seductive Godmother be even remotely jealous of her?

  The idea was ludicrous!

  She was nothing but a country mouse!

  But now, waiting to leave for the Church, Anthea had to admit to herself that the Duke had acted his part well and that not even the most discerning onlooker would have suspected that their marriage was anything but a love match.

  Certainly not her mother or her sisters.

  They were convinced that the Duke had fallen in love with her at first sight and she with him.

  “Why did you not tell us about him?” Thais pressed Anthea over and over again.

  Lady Forthingdale had the answer.

  “When one is falling in love, dearest,” she lectured her daughters, “it is so magical, so ethereal that one is almost afraid to breathe lest the wonder of it should disappear.”

  She smiled at Anthea.

  “That is, I know, darling, something of what you felt, though it cannot be put adequately into words.”

  She gave a deep sigh.

  “It is what I felt for your father and have always prayed that one day you would all feel too when you met the right man.”

  “And that is how I would like to feel,” Anthea said to her reflection in the mirror.

  In two minutes time she had to leave for the Church.

  Downstairs the Colonel of her father’s regiment had come to Yorkshire especially to give her away.

  The little grey stone Church that was only a short distance from the house would be, she knew, packed with not only their neighbours, but also relations and friends of the Duke’s who were staying in all the big houses in the vicinity.

  Lord Doncaster had a house party of thirty. Some could find accommodation no nearer than York.

  At first Anthea had felt shy and a little frightened of the ordeal that
awaited her. Then she told herself there was no point in feeling anything but coolly practical.

  This was a wedding where, instead of the bride being on the threshold of a new and wonderful experience, she was merely a means to an end.

  It was as if she had no identity of her own, but was just serving as a lifeline for the Duke and the woman he loved.

  ‘Yet how can I feel resentful,’ Anthea asked herself, ‘when it is entirely my own fault and I have no one to blame but myself?’

  Mrs. Humphrey, as she had promised, had sent her a copy of The Love of the Pussycats and another cartoon that had been issued at the same time.

  When they arrived, Anthea had taken them to the kitchen and burnt them in the stove.

  She was always terrified that the girls would forget her instructions and make some reference to her talent for drawing to the Duke.

  But she had made them swear on everything they considered holy that they would never speak of the cartoons or the money she had made by selling them.

  “He would never forgive me,” she said, “if he had the slightest idea that I had drawn anything so reprehensible.”

  “They might amuse him as they have amused us,” Thais suggested.

  “He would be very shocked,” Anthea replied, “and unless you want him to go away and never speak to any of us again, be very careful to keep my secret.”

  She knew this threat would be effective.

  But to make quite certain there was no evidence that could be used against her, she extracted the letters she had written from London from her mother’s secretaire and burnt those too.

  Even the funny little sketches with which she had illustrated some of her letters could, if he saw them, give the Duke the idea that she might somehow be connected with the cartoon that had caused so much trouble!

  The clock on the mantelpiece struck the hour and Anthea realised that it was noon.

  She must leave at once for the Church.

  Because her home was far too small to accommodate so many guests, the reception was to take place in Lord Doncaster’s house.

  It was nearly an hour’s drive from the Church and the Duke had suggested that it would be best, as they had a long way to go South, if he and Anthea left straight after the ceremony.

  “I cannot believe,” he said, “that we will be greatly missed and I have no desire to make a speech or to listen to one.”

  “No, of course not,” Anthea agreed.

  He had therefore arranged that they would return alone to the house for a light luncheon and for Anthea to change into her travelling clothes.

  Everyone else who was present at the Church would go on to Doncaster Hall where there would be a three foot high wedding cake and an enormous wedding breakfast, which would last late into the afternoon.

  “How can you bear to miss all the fun?” Chloe had asked Anthea.

  “I don’t think I should enjoy it very much,” she answered.

  “Don’t be so stupid,” Thais said. “She wants to be alone with her husband, just as I would want to be.”

  She spoke with a quiver in her voice and a romantic look in her eyes and had no idea that her eldest sister gave a little shiver as she thought how frightened she was of being alone with the Duke.

  ‘What shall I say to him?’ she wondered frantically.

  Then she told herself it was absolutely essential that she should try to behave normally and not be in the least hysterical.

  She remembered her father saying how much men disliked scenes.

  “Women enjoy them,” Sir Walcott had said with a smile, “but I assure you, that any normal man will run a mile rather than be involved in dramatics, hurt feelings or tears.”

  “This would obviously come under the heading of ‘dramatics’,’ Anthea told herself and she was determined to behave as her father would have wished.

  She picked up her bouquet of roses and lilies-of-the-valley and turned to leave the bedroom.

  As she did so, the diamonds on her head glittered and the sunshine coming through the window seemed to envelope her like a blessing.

  ‘I am acting a part in a play,’ Anthea said to herself, ‘and the only thing that matters is that I should prove a competent actress.’

  *

  The Duke and the new Duchess of Axminster arrived at the Earl of Arksey’s mansion shortly after five o’clock. Situated in a large Park it was a notable example of Elizabethan architecture and looked extremely impressive as the four horses the Duke had been driving since they left home crossed the bridge over the lake.

  “It is very large!” Anthea remarked.

  “It has been added to over the years,” the Duke replied. “But Arksey has redecorated a number of the rooms recently and I think you will find it quite comfortable.”

  “I should imagine,” she smiled, “it will certainly be more comfortable than a posting inn, which would probably have been our alternative accommodation.”

  “I loathe posting inns,” the Duke remarked.

  “I cannot imagine you have stayed in many of them,” she replied. “When I travelled to London by stagecoach I was horrified at what the average traveller encounters in such places.”

  “You travelled by stagecoach?” the Duke asked in surprise.

  “Unfortunately,” Anthea replied. “We did not think that Dobbin would be able to complete the journey!”

  The Duke, who had seen Dobbin, laughed.

  “You keep forgetting that I am Cinderella,” Anthea said, “or would you prefer to be King Cophetua while I am the Beggar Maid?”

  “I think you resemble neither at the moment,” the Duke said with a slightly dry note in his voice and Anthea had to admit he was right.

  The travelling coat of rose pink satin that the Countess had sent her with a high-brimmed bonnet trimmed with pink ostrich feathers to match made her look like a Princess in a Fairy story.

  However, she found herself thinking, as she entered Arksey Hall, that the whole thing was in fact more like a theatrical programme where everything she did and felt was pretence.

  The great house formed an impressive backcloth and, when she found that there were three maids to wait on her in the huge State bedroom in which, she was told, Queen Elizabeth had once slept, it was only another act of the play.

  After a bath scented with rose oil, Anthea put on a lovely gown of white gauze embroidered with silver, which had silver ribbons and silver shoes to match.

  As she walked down the broad staircase to the salon, she almost expected to find an audience waiting to applaud her.

  The Duke was waiting in the large room overlooking the rose garden, which had long windows opening onto a terrace.

  He was standing with his back to her and, as Anthea entered, she thought how tall and commanding he was – a very fitting hero for the play in which she was envisaging herself.

  She did not speak, but he must have sensed her presence because he turned with a smile on his lips.

  “You are very punctual,” he remarked, “and may I say I appreciate that?”

  “I have cooked too many meals myself not to be sympathetic with the chef who finds his soufflés falling flat and his meat over-cooked,” Anthea replied.

  She walked towards the Duke as she spoke and joined him to stand looking out into the garden.

  “I love roses,” she said. “And I am sure there is nothing more beautiful than an English garden like this one.”

  “Are you telling me,” the Duke asked, “that you would rather have stayed in England for our honeymoon?”

  “No, of course riot! You know how thrilled I am at the thought of visiting the battlefield of Waterloo and it means so much to my Mama.”

  “I am glad it pleases her,” the Duke said lightly. “At the same time I want to show you not only where your father died but also where I fought.”

  “I understand you received the Waterloo Medal.”

  “I will show it to you when we are in London.”

  Anthea moved awa
y from the window towards the mantelshelf.

  The salon was very elegant. Equally it was a trifle stiff and she thought that they too were being stiff and over formal.

  “I think I should tell you,” the Duke commented, “how very becoming that gown is. What is more it shows off your rubies to perfection!”

  Anthea put her hand up to her neck.

  She had almost forgotten that a jewel box had been delivered early in the morning, containing a magnificent ruby necklace to match her ring.

  “I am afraid I have not yet thanked you,” she said. “It was shamefully remiss of me, but there has been so much to think about.”

  “Of course,” he replied. “One does not get married very often!”

  “Thank goodness for that!” Anthea exclaimed. “Imagine if one had to have a commotion like this every year or even every five years!”

  “I think we will be quite content to wait for twenty five,” the Duke said, “until our Silver Wedding Anniversary.”

  ‘That is too long to contemplate,’ Anthea thought in her heart, but aloud she said,

  “I cannot imagine, after all the presents we have received, that we shall need any more silver. What will you do, as it is, with over fifty entrée dishes?”

  “We might give a party?”

  “Or perhaps keep so many dogs that they can each eat out of a silver dish!”

  The Duke laughed at the idea, but it flashed through Anthea’s mind that she had sold a cartoon of the Duchess of York’s one hundred dogs, with one complaining that he could not find his bowl!

  Because she was embarrassed by her own thoughts, it was with relief she heard the butler announce that dinner was ready.

  They went into the dining room where the Earl’s chef had surpassed himself by providing them with a meal that excelled any that Anthea had eaten in London.

  There was champagne to drink and, when the servants withdrew, the Duke raised his glass.

  “Your health, Anthea!” he proposed. “You have come through today with flying colours. I cannot think of anyone who would have carried off this somewhat difficult situation so magnificently!”

  She was surprised at his praise and the note of sincerity in his voice. She felt the colour rising in her cheeks.

  “Now you are embarrassing me!” she said. “I thought that you behaved extremely commendably yourself, considering you were a reluctant bridegroom.”