Secret Love Read online

  ‘There will surely be no one else out riding at this ridiculous hour,’ he told himself.

  Then without bothering to ask the boy he rode out of the stables to where he felt the paddock must be and it was not difficult from there to view the Racecourse.

  To his astonishment he saw that he was not the only rider at this early hour.

  Someone else was there already.

  And to his amazement as he drew a little nearer he saw that it was a woman.

  The rising sun shining on her fair hair without a hat made him think that once again he had found his angel.

  Then he told himself he was just being absurd.

  Was it likely that a young girl, looking as if she had just come down from the sky, would be out riding?

  What was more she was jumping in a superb and almost professional fashion and watching her the Marquis thought she was undoubtedly the best female rider he had ever seen.

  The way she was methodically taking one jump after another was astounding.

  As he waited she turned round at the end of the course and came towards him.

  There were two more very high jumps before she reached him and her mount took them magnificently, each one with six inches to spare.

  It was when she took the last jump that the horse stumbled a little on landing because the ground was rough and the Marquis thought she might fall.

  But with a superb piece of riding she managed to keep her horse on its feet and not to fall off herself.

  For a moment the Marquis had held his breath.

  Then as Wenda rode towards him he realised he had not been mistaken. It was the angel he had seen last night who had said she would pray for him.

  Wenda was bending forward to pat Samson and she was telling him he was not to worry or be upset at almost tumbling over.

  “You were splendid,” she said in her soft voice, “as you always are. And you are far better than all the other horses put together.”

  She was looking down at Samson as she spoke and then as she looked ahead she saw the Marquis.

  He had been standing with a tree behind him so that she had not noticed him until now.

  As she drew up beside him, he exclaimed,

  “How is it possible you can ride like that? Every jump here is far too high for a woman.”

  Wenda chuckled.

  “I am not jumping them, Samson is. He says they are just the right height for him and he is quite certain if there is to be a race today he will win it.”

  She spoke in a way that made him laugh too.

  “You are very confident,” he smiled. “But I believe you are using supernatural powers to make sure of being the winner and that naturally is cheating!”

  “Unfortunately I will not be riding,” replied Wenda.

  “Why not?” the Marquis asked.

  “Because, as I have told you, I will be very busy in the kitchen.”

  “I don’t believe you. No one could look like you and be nothing but a cook.”

  “You did admit last night that I was a very good cook. If you have had second thoughts, I will be very hurt and disappointed.”

  “I am not criticising the food. I am only saying it is impossible for anyone who looks like you to ride so well. At the same time to look, as you did last night, as if you might just float away on the first puff of wind blowing in through the window.”

  “That is such a lovely idea and I wish it was true, so perhaps that is what I should do!”

  “I forbid you to do anything of the sort. Now tell me the truth about yourself, because I want to know.”

  “Think how disappointing it will be if you solve the problem, if there is one,” Wenda countered, “without really making an effort.”

  She was silent for a moment and as the Marquis did not speak, she went on,

  “I often think that life would be very dull if one was not often faced with problems of some sort.”

  She gave a sigh.

  “Sometimes they are almost too overwhelming and challenging.”

  “It was very exciting for me last night,” replied the Marquis, “to find you so unexpectedly.”

  “But you did promise me that you would not tell anyone you had found me.”

  “I never break my promise.”

  “That is what I want to hear.”

  Wenda tightened her reins and was just about to ride off when the Marquis called out,

  “Where are you going and why are you leaving me?”

  “You know I am not supposed to meet you. If you are up, there may be others in the party who think they will take a ride before breakfast.”

  “It is still very early,” persisted the Marquis, “and I so want to talk to you.”

  It occurred to Wenda that she wanted to talk to him as well and it would be very intriguing for her to do so.

  But she was afraid of upsetting Robbie.

  “I have to go back,” she told him, “and please just forget you have ever seen me. I know that Samson will not talk and no one must know he has just taken all the jumps without any effort.”

  “You can trust me,” the Marquis promised. “But you must sense that I have to see you again.”

  “It will be just impossible, but I am still praying you will find what you are seeking.”

  As she said the last words she rode away before the Marquis could stop her.

  He felt if he hurried after her into the stable yard it might be embarrassing, so he then took Mountebank over the jumps all the time thinking about Wenda.

  How could he find out exactly who she was without breaking his promise?

  And why was he not to speak about her to Robbie?

  He knew without being told there were no sinister reasons for this.

  If she had been an ordinary woman, he would have thought she was perhaps one of Robbie’s lovers, someone he did not think grand enough to meet the Prince of Wales.

  But there was a purity and an innocence about his angel which told him that she had never been kissed.

  The Marquis was still thinking about Wenda when later he went in to breakfast to find that most of the guests, including the Prince of Wales, were already downstairs.

  “I hear you have been riding already, Victor,” the Prince called out to him.

  “Creswell has an excellent course of jumps, sir, and I am determined that my horse should win today!”

  There were protests at this from the others.

  As Robbie came in he apologised for being late and the Prince of Wales enquired,

  “Tell me about your Racecourse, Robbie. Victor has set his heart on winning today. He has already jumped the gun by exploring it while we were asleep in bed.”

  “I am prepared to say that is cheating, sir. But his horses are always so good that he will doubtless beat us all anyway even if he is handicapped.”

  “Now you are being a bit aggressive,” the Marquis protested, “and if you are riding a magnificent horse called Samson, which I saw in the stable this morning, I think you will have an unfair advantage.”

  They were laughing at each other, but the Marquis was well aware that Robbie had no idea that Samson had already been round the jumps.

  He had already admitted they had been erected very quickly simply because the old course was in such a bad state of repair.

  The Marquis recalled how Samson had stumbled at the last fence and suggested,

  “I thought this morning there is one place which is dangerous and which should be attended to before we start any racing.”

  Robbie asked him exactly where it was and when the Marquis explained, he responded,

  “I will see to it immediately, although I am sure you will think the man who put up the fences has done a good job.”

  “An excellent one,” the Marquis agreed.

  He wondered as he spoke whether the angel had in some way arranged this as well as the cooking and then he told himself that he must most definitely learn the truth about her before he was obliged to leave Cr
eswell Court.

  When Robbie left the breakfast table he managed to catch Banks before he entered the room.

  “Please tell Miss Wenda to meet me immediately in the Estate Office.”

  Banks nodded and hurried to the kitchen.

  Five minutes later when Robbie had gone into the Estate Office, Wenda joined him.

  “I went to your room,” he said, “but you were not there. I imagine you were in the kitchen.”

  “Yes, of course, Robbie,” Wenda answered him.

  She had changed from her riding habit as soon as she returned to the house, and she was now wearing an old dress from which the colour had been washed out and an overall that belonged to Mrs. Banks.

  “Dinner was superb last night,” Robbie praised her, “but what I really want to tell you about is myself.”

  “I saw the Prince of Wales drinking a health last night and I thought it was for you but I could not hear what he was saying.”

  “I suspected you were in the minstrels’ gallery. I thought that you would go there.”

  “I wanted to have a look at you all. It was really fantastic and rather like something on the stage. I felt it could not be happening in real life and in our house!”

  “But it was, Wenda, and now I have a great deal to tell you, but we don’t have much time.”

  He told her the story of how he had met Josofine.

  And how he had fallen in love with her, but had not known who she was until she had arrived at The Court and how the Prince of Wales had recognised her.

  “So you must understand,” he finished, “that she is not Madame Frazer, which actually was the name of her mother. She is in fact La Comtesse de Mouchy and we are to be married tomorrow immediately after luncheon before His Royal Highness drives back to London.”

  “Tomorrow!” exclaimed Wenda.

  “It is what I have planned and the Vicar is coming to see us in the morning.”

  For a moment Wenda could only stare at him.

  “I had never expected you to get married, Robbie, because we have so little money.”

  “Marriages in France are arranged and in fact she is very rich. To run away was the only way Josofine could escape becoming the wife of the man she hates.”

  “I think it was very brave of her.”

  “Of course it was,” Robbie agreed, “and when you get to know her you will love her as I do. She is indeed a wonderful, wonderful girl and I am the luckiest man in the whole world.”

  “If she is an heiress,” Wenda asked him cautiously, “you will be able to live here?”

  “She has already said that is what she wants to do and we intend to make the house even grander.”

  Robbie was smiling as he added,

  “Oh, Wenda, is this really happening? I am so afraid I will wake up and discover that it is all part of my imagination.”

  “I think Papa and Mama will be delighted that you will still be able to live here at The Court and in the way they did when they were first married.”

  “It’s all too incredible,” Robbie cried. “I know you will love Josofine as soon as you meet her.”

  There was silence then Wenda murmured,

  “I must come to your wedding.”

  “Of course you must, Wenda, and you must come as yourself. The only thing you can do, and I have thought it out very carefully, is to arrive at the Church and pretend you have been staying with relatives or friends nearby.”

  Wenda stared at him.

  “As you are engaged, why cannot I arrive tonight?”

  Robbie wondered if he should tell her the truth and then he thought it would be a mistake.

  “I think it might upset the Prince, who only likes his own friends at these special house parties. It would also put the numbers out and we should be a man short.”

  “Yes, of course I see,” agreed Wenda, “I will arrive at the Church tomorrow at two o’clock and no one will know I have just cooked the luncheon!”

  Robbie laughed.

  “You have been absolutely marvellous, my dearest sister. It is all due to you that everything has gone so well and His Royal Highness is in the best temper I have ever known.”

  “Well, keep him like that,” replied Wenda, “and I do naturally want to meet him.”

  “What I want you to do and it might be rather a rush, is to get Mrs. Banks and the people in the kitchen to help you make us a wedding cake. I know Josofine will not feel married unless we have one. So please, Wenda, make one. It need not be very large as there will be no one coming to the wedding except the house party.”

  “I would not like to bet on it, Robbie, and I suppose you realise that once the village knows you are married, they will expect fireworks and barrels of beer on the lawn as when you celebrated your twenty-first birthday.”

  “I remember that and of course you are right. You must promise them it is exactly what they will have when I return from my honeymoon.”

  “Have you decided where you are going, Robbie?”

  “We have been discussing it, but the great problem is if I meet her father and mother, the Duc and Duchesse, before we go on our honeymoon or after we come back.”

  “I will give you the answer to that. Enjoy yourself while you can and give them a chance to recover from the shock.”

  “You are a genius, Wenda. Why did I not think of that, but Josofine does not want to make them any angrier than they are already, after all she is turning down a ruling Prince to marry just me.”

  “I think it is very very sensible of her. You are an exceptional person and you should be very grateful to His Royal Highness as he will make everything plain sailing for you. And if he is blessing your marriage, the Duc will not dare to go against him.”

  “You are absolutely right and I did actually think of that myself,” Robbie exclaimed.

  He kissed her and sighed,

  “When we come back, I am going to insist on your having a grand ball in London. You will undoubtedly be the belle of the Season and no one will equal you.”

  “I look forward to that, Robbie, and I am crossing my fingers in case it does not happen.”

  Robbie laughed and then he hurried away because he knew the Prince of Wales would soon be ready to go to the Racecourse.

  Wenda went into the kitchen and told Mrs. Banks and the other women what they had to do.

  Because they were so delighted at the idea, they all agreed that his Lordship must have a magnificent cake and they only hoped there would be enough time to decorate it.

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Mrs. Banks. “Although you may think it’s wrong, it’s the best thing us can do quickly.”

  “What is that?” Wenda asked her.

  “I remembers that the cake we had for your mother and father’s Silver Wedding were a very big one. They asks everyone in the County here and even some from the village like the doctor and the Vicar and his wife.”

  Because Mrs. Banks was always a bit long-winded, Wenda listened and tried not to look impatient.

  “What we had on that occasion were a huge three-tiered cake. It be so well decorated that us only made the top two layers and the bottom was all pretty with flowers and little emblems so it were not eaten so to speak.”

  “You mean it was false,” enquired Wenda.

  “Yes, that’s the word,” Mrs. Banks replied. “And us had slices of a separate cake on the side which us hand round and they has no idea it didn’t come off the pretty one.”

  “For this wedding we will be very few so we could decorate the lower layers and just make the top one real.”

  “That be what I were thinking, Miss Wenda.”

  Mrs. Banks paused for breath before she added,

  “It’ll save us a lot of trouble and I’m certain that with your paintbrush you’d soon touch up the old bits and make them look like new.”

  “We will certainly give it a try and someone can tell Mrs. Stevenson that we want to look for it in the attic.”

  “She be up there alread
y,” one of the women came in. “The young lady that his Lordship’s to marry needs a weddin’ dress badly and she’s got a whole lot of ’em – your mother’s dress, your grandmother’s and your great-grandmother’s. She’s talked about ’em often enough.”

  Wenda could not wait to find Mrs. Stevenson and ask her if she had told Robbie about the wedding gowns.

  “Of course he knows about them,” the housekeeper replied. “The gowns are on the lady’s bed and she’s going into ecstasies over them.”

  “Do you think she’ll wear Mama’s?” asked Wenda.

  “As she is small and so was your grandmother, I think then it’ll be either your grandmother’s or your great-grandmother’s with the lovely veil they both wore and the brides before them too.”

  Wenda thought it all very thrilling and she wished she could see the gowns and help Josofine, but she knew that she must not interfere.

  And Robbie would be angry with her for appearing before she was supposed to do so.

  When she was in her own room later in the evening, she wished she had a smart dress she could wear herself as all her clothes looked drab and dull.

  While the wedding gowns had been preserved over the years, unfortunately all the other dresses, as they had fallen out of fashion, had been given away or destroyed.

  It was when the men were changing for dinner that she waited in her bedroom.

  She knew she should have been in the kitchen, but she was sure that Robbie would come to her, as she had left a note on his dressing table to say she must see him.

  When she could hear several of the guests talking as they came up the stairs, she knew he would not be long.

  He opened the door of her room and when he came in, he could see that she was looking worried.

  “What has happened, Wenda?” he asked.

  “I don’t have a dress fit to wear tomorrow and they have all told me what lovely clothes your Josofine has. I wonder if she would be kind enough to lend me a dress just to appear in the Church – ”

  For a moment he stared at her and then he said,

  “You must think I am treating you very badly in not introducing you to the House Party. It would be a mistake to involve the Prince of Wales, but there is no reason why you should not meet Josofine and she can be told what you have done for me. Stay here!”