Born of Love Read online

  Marcia laughed again and then she looked anxiously towards Lisette.

  “We can leave the door open,” the Duc suggested, “so that if she regains consciousness or moves we will hear her.”

  Marcia gave him a little smile before she walked ahead of him into the small parlour.

  It was a tiny room, sparsely furnished, but spotlessly clean.

  Jacques had arranged a table in the centre of the room.

  There was a lace-edged tablecloth and two silver candlesticks that he had brought from the château.

  Marcia sat down and the Duc sat opposite her.

  Their first course was already on the table.

  There were slices of the delicious pâté de foie gras, which was a speciality of that part of the Dordogne.

  There was champagne to drink and, as Marcia sipped it, she said,

  “I only hope that nobody at the château has any idea of where we are at the moment. Can you imagine how shocked they would be?”

  “We are eating together without a chaperone,” the Duc said, “and you look very lovely with your hair down and wearing your night attire.”

  “It is a negligée” Marcia commented, “and you are well aware that a lady can wear one when she receives a beau in her boudoir.”

  “You are making that sound even more improper than it is!” the Duc teased.

  Marcia blushed, realising that she had spoken as she might have done to her father.

  She had forgotten that the Duc was a young man and she should have been more formal with him.

  “I like it when you blush,” he remarked. “It is something I seldom see on a Frenchwoman’s face.”

  He thought as he spoke that it was not surprising.

  The women he associated with, like the Marquise, had years ago passed the age of blushing.

  “As we are here in such compromising circumstances,” Marcia said quickly, “I suggest that we talk about horses, which is always a safe subject.”

  “I would, at the moment, rather talk about you,” the Duc said firmly. “I was extremely interested in what you said just now about being an only child. When I was waiting while you changed, I was thinking how much the château and the estate has meant to me ever since I can remember. And therefore how important it is that it should go to my son or perhaps several sons.”

  Marcia clapped her hands.

  “That is what everyone has wanted you to think and nobody could be more delighted than your aunt.”

  “The difficulty is,” the Duc went on, “that, as you said yourself, to have children you must have love and if the home is to be the right sort for them, whether it is as small as this cottage or as big as the château, their father and mother must love each other.”

  “You are absolutely right in saying that,” Marcia said seriously. “I am convinced that children born of love are more intelligent and, of course, much happier than those who are not.”

  He nodded and she went on,

  “If you read history, it is obvious that love children were always very much cleverer than those born of arranged marriages, especially those that were Royal.”

  “That is true,” the Duc agreed, “and I can prove to you by many examples that the love children of many a French King excelled in every way over those born to his foreign bride for whom he had little or no affection.”

  “We have exactly the same experience in English history,” Marcia agreed.

  She told him stories of several Royal love children. And then the Duc told her similar stories of those born to French Kings, which she found fascinating.

  The pâté was followed by a number of delicious dishes brought in by Jacques.

  But they were so engrossed in their conversation that they ate with no attention to the food.

  Marcia had hardly tasted the superb wine, which came from the Duc’s own vineyard.

  Finally, after they had had coffee, the Duc rose reluctantly.

  “And now, I suppose, I must return to the château. I will tell your father the truth of what has happened, but I think it would be a mistake for my aunt, or anybody else, to know.”

  “Oh, please – keep it a secret!” Marcia begged him. “You know how they would talk and it would be very very embarrassing for me.”

  “I will do my best,” he promised, “and, of course, I will come back early tomorrow morning to collect you when the child’s mother has arrived.”

  The Duc moved a few steps towards the door before he said,

  “Goodnight, Marcia. I have enjoyed our dinner together more than I can possibly say.”

  “And I found it fascinating,” Marcia answered. “Goodnight, monsieur, and – thank you.”

  The Duc took her hand in his.

  Then to her surprise his lips touched the softness of her skin.

  He walked into the kitchen to see if Jacques was ready, while Marcia hurried to the bedroom to see if Lisette was all right.

  The child lay just where she had left her and gently she lifted her into the large bed after she had turned down the covers.

  She was a little apprehensive as to whether the sheets would be clean and to her relief she found that they had never been slept in and must have been changed that very morning.

  Before getting into bed she went to the window to open it a little wider.

  Jacques had lit two candles for her that stood on the dressing table and they were similar to those that had been on the dining room table.

  She was sure that they were very much more expensive than a cottager could afford.

  It was then she saw something lying on the dressing table that had not been there before.

  It was a revolver.

  She wondered why Jacques had put it there and then realised that beneath it was a note,

  “Mademoiselle,

  I heard today that there is a dog with rabies in the vicinity. The valet of Monsieur the Earl of Grateswoode tells me that you are a good shot. I am therefore leaving this for you in case of trouble.

  Yours respectfully,

  Jacques.”

  Marcia smiled, thinking that he was a very intelligent man.

  She knew how dangerous a dog with rabies could be, but she hoped that she would not have to shoot it.

  She pulled one of the curtains over and then looked up at the sky.

  It seemed far away because behind the cottage were the towering rocks rising up for hundreds of feet.

  By throwing back her head she could see just above them that dusk was falling and the first evening stars were twinkling.

  It was very beautiful and she was thinking that she would go to the front of the house and look at the valley in the moonlight.

  She knew that Jacques had left by now as she had heard the wheels of the carriage.

  She was aware without asking that the Duc would return to the château on Aquilin and she could imagine how magnificent he would look.

  ‘It was very kind of him to have dinner with me,’ she thought, ‘and I so much enjoyed our conversation.’

  She only hoped that he had not been too bored, but he certainly had seemed to be amused and interested.

  She pulled the curtain to and blew out one of the candles.

  She was just putting the other beside her bed when her door was suddenly flung open.

  “M’mselle! M’mselle,” a voice cried.

  It was Pierre and she put down the candle saying,

  “What is it, Pierre? What has happened?”

  “They’ve taken Monsieur le Duc prisoner, m’mselle. Three men have taken him into the cave.”

  “I don’t know what you are saying!” Marcia exclaimed.

  “They put a rope round him. He struggled, but they were too strong for him,” Pierre said breathlessly. “They knocked off his hat and he fought them, m’mselle, but they dragged him into the big cave that no one knows about except my friend and me.”

  Marcia realised at once that it was Sardos.

  She could only think with horror that he w
ould kill the Duc.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “What– can we – do?” Marcia gasped.

  “I’ll show you without them seeing us,” Pierre said “where they have taken Monsieur le Duc. Come with me, m’mselle.”

  Marcia looked quickly at Lisette who was lying still.

  Then she turned towards the door where Pierre was waiting for her.

  It was then she remembered the revolver that Jacques had left for her lying on the dressing table.

  She picked it up and then she realised that Pierre had gone ahead.

  She found him coming from the kitchen carrying something in his hands.

  “I’ve a lantern, m’mselle.”

  She saw that it was a simply made one of a candle in a jam jar and she thought that they would at least be able to see their way if they were going into a cave.

  At the same time she was feeling frightened.

  It was bad enough that Sardos had taken the Duc prisoner.

  If he also captured her and Pierre, he might either kill them too or use them as hostages.

  However, there was no point in delaying and she merely followed Pierre out of the front door and down the small garden.

  It was light outside because the moon was rising up and the stairs were already brilliant in the sable sky.

  Pierre turned sharply to the right and ran to where the rocks sloped down onto the field.

  Marcia had no time to think and she was only concerned with keeping up with Pierre.

  She was also holding up her nightdress and negligée so that she could run quicker and she was fortunately still wearing the heelless satin slippers that she had worn for dinner.

  Aquilin was still in the field.

  And she guessed that Sardos and his accomplices had captured the Duc before he was able to reach his horse.

  Suddenly Pierre stopped.

  As Marcia reached him, he whispered,

  “There’s the cave they took the Duc into!”

  He pointed.

  Marcia could see vaguely the faint outline of what might be an entrance to a cave.

  She would have moved towards it to see if she could hear anything.

  But Pierre caught hold of her arm and pulled her away.

  They moved on about three yards and Pierre stopped again.

  Now Marcia could see a small opening in the rock that looked as if it might have been used by an animal.

  Pierre pulled his lantern, as he called it, from out of his coat where he was hiding it.

  In a whisper that she could hardly hear he said,

  “Follow me.”

  He crawled into the hole ahead of them on hands and knees and Marcia did the same, although she felt encumbered by her nightclothes round her knees.

  It was a relief when, after moving for only a short distance, Pierre stood up.

  He held his lantern so that she could see that they were in a small but empty chamber and that the roof above them was rough and stony.

  It was high enough, however, for them to be able to stand up straight.

  Pierre put his finger to his lips to warn her to be silent.

  Marcia was already aware that if they spoke their voices would echo and that would alert Sardos.

  Pierre went ahead, moving slowly because the floor was uneven.

  Now Marcia could see in the flickering light that there were stalactites hanging from the roof as well as stalagmites rising from the floor.

  They moved further on and now they were no longer in a cave, but in what seemed like a very narrow passage.

  Pierre was holding the lantern so that it gave Marcia enough light to follow him.

  Its glow was hidden by the front by his coat, which he held over it.

  It was then that she heard a voice in the distance.

  Whoever was speaking was doing so quietly.

  Nevertheless his voice echoed eerily, so that it seemed as if it came from another planet.

  Pierre walked on and Marcia followed, stumbling occasionally on the rough rocks.

  She steadied herself by putting out her hands so that she could touch the walls on either side.

  They were very cold and she realised that the further they went the colder it was.

  Then suddenly she heard Sardos’s voice quite near her say roughly,

  “Tighten those knots so that he cannot escape.”

  Pierre had stopped when he heard Sardos and now he moved forward very slowly on tiptoes.

  There was the sound of someone being dragged over rough ground.

  Then, as Marcia moved round a rough projection of rock, she realised that she could look through a large crack into what was an amazing cave.

  It was so high that it was impossible in the darkness to see the top of it.

  Inside there were what looked like huge trees of stalagmites that glistened and glittered in the light from a large lantern.

  The lantern was standing on a rock that was flat and almost the size of a table.

  It illuminated the four men in the cave.

  To the left of her Marcia could see Sardos looking, she thought, extremely unpleasant and aggressive.

  Just in front of him was the Duc.

  He was bare-headed and there was a gash on his cheek where he must have been struck.

  His coat had been pulled off one shoulder and the upper part of his body was encircled by a rope.

  Just beyond him she could see an enormous man, coarse and common in appearance.

  She would not have been surprised if she was told that he was a pugilist.

  There was another man there who looked small and insignificant beside the man who was holding the Duc prisoner.

  He was grey-headed and had a crafty look about him that made Marcia feel that no one with any sense would trust him.

  The big man pulled the Duc up against the rock that held the lantern.

  It was then that Marcia saw the third man draw some papers from his pocket and he placed them on the flat rock in front of him.

  Then she heard the Duc speak.

  “I suppose, Sardos,” he said, “you know what you are doing and that I deeply resent the way I am being treated.”

  “You may resent it,” Sardos snarled in a rude voice, “but I resent the way you are so close-fisted with your money and I have no intention of going to prison when you can so easily pay my debts.”

  “As I have done in the past,” the Duc said quietly.

  “And which there will be no need for you to do in the future!”

  “So you intend to kill me,” the Duc remarked in a calm voice.

  “That will be up to you,” Sardos replied, “and you have a choice.”

  There was silence while the Duc waited.

  Watching him, and Marcia could see his face in profile, she thought that he was very calm and brave.

  He must be aware of the perilous position he was in.

  Quite suddenly Sardos laughed and it was an evil sound.

  “It rather turns the tables, does it not, Uncle Armond,” he sneered, “with me dictating the terms, rather than you.”

  “I am waiting to learn,” the Duc replied, “what those terms are.”

  “Very well,” Sardos answered, “You shall hear them and that is why I have brought you to this delightful cave.”

  “I had no idea it existed,” the Duc replied.

  “You can thank Albert here for that,” Sardos said. “When he showed it to me, I knew that it was exactly what I wanted.”

  “To keep me prisoner?” the Duc enquired.

  “That is up to you,” Sardos said, “but let me first introduce you to my friends. Albert, it may not surprise you to hear, is the strongest man in Bergerac and he has a great number of fights and wrestling matches to his credit.”

  He gave another of his unpleasant laughs as he added,

  “I advise you not to fight him as you would undoubtedly be the loser.”

  The Duc did not speak and Marcia thought that he was marvellously self-
controlled.

  At the same time she could just see a little pulse beating in his neck.

  It told her that he was extremely angry.

  “My other friend, Monsieur Luzech is, as you might guess, a Solicitor. He has here some papers for you to sign, which you would be very foolish not to do.”

  “May I know what those papers contain?” the Duc enquired.

  “They name me as your heir unless you have a son,” Sardos said, his voice rising, “but first you will give me the sum of two hundred thousand francs and make over to me all the property you own in Bergerac.”

  Listening, Marcia knew that Bergerac was a large town only a few miles from the château.

  If the Duc had valuable freehold property there, the rents probably brought him in a great deal of the money he spent on his relatives and on his estate.

  She was not surprised when the Duc refused.

  “And if I refuse to sign this monstrous document?”

  “Then, my dear uncle,” Sardos answered, “I shall most regretfully and, of course, it will cause me deep distress, leave you here in this beautiful, if somewhat chilly, cave. It had never been discovered until Albert was clever enough to find it and just the movement of a few rocks at the entrance will leave it undiscovered for another thousand years, which it has already spent unnoticed.”

  There was silence as his voice and its attendant echo died away.

  “So my aunt, the Comtesse, was right in saying that you were planning to murder me!” the Duc remarked.

  “Why should she have said that?” Sardos asked angrily.

  “She heard that you were asserting in Paris that my death would be quite soon. So, if I should disappear now without any explanation, you will find a great number of people will wish to ask you questions as to when you last saw me.”

  Marcia thought that this was clever of the Duc and she could see by the expression on Sardos’s face that he was disconcerted.

  “Nevertheless,” he said, “there is no need for there to be any risks. You will sign these papers, which are entirely legal, and Monsieur Luzech will have them registered immediately so that it will be impossible for you to go back on your word.”

  “Very well,” the Duc said. “But I am sure you realise that it would be impossible for me to sign anything tied up as I am. I am quite incapable of using my hands.”