Love and the Marquis Page 12

  When, weeping despairingly, Lady Bullington had gone to the Earl for help, he knew that there was nothing he could do honourably except take her abroad and wait until she was free before he must marry her.

  It was not only something he had no wish to do because of the scandal, but also he was aware that Lady Bullington was not in the least the type of woman he wanted as a wife or a stepmother for Imeldra.

  Too late he had realised that he was caught in a trap from which there was no escape and whatever the cost to himself he must behave like a gentleman.

  Lord Bullington advanced slowly towards the Earl and only when he stopped a little way from his chair did he say,

  “Good afternoon, Kingsclere. I am glad to see you are better.”

  “I am still somewhat of a cripple,” the Earl replied, “so forgive me for being unable to rise to greet you.”

  “Of course, of course.”

  Lord Bullington sat down in a chair by the Earl and there was an uncomfortable silence until, as if he was aware of the question in the Earl’s eyes, he said,

  “I called to see you, Kingsclere, because I thought it was my duty to thank you.”

  “To thank me?” the Earl repeated in astonishment.

  “I have been told,” Lord Bullington went on, “that when you were almost crushed to death you roused yourself to have my wife’s body sent to the house of her relatives with the explanation that you had given her a lift from London.”

  Lord Bullington spoke slowly and now he paused before he added,

  “That was a gracious action on your part and prevented a scandal.”

  “I hope so,” the Earl said quietly, “and may I tell you, Bullington, how extremely sorry I am for being instrumental in causing your wife’s death.”

  “I have heard it was not your fault that the accident occurred,” Lord Bullington replied, “but what is important from my point of view is that Elaine, foolish though she often was, was not defamed in dying and there has been no gossip as to why she was driving with you to Dover.”

  “I hoped after what happened that no one would know the truth,” the Earl commented.

  “When Elaine’s relatives sent a groom to inform me exactly what had happened and how surprised they were, I, of course, immediately put the blame on the mail services, explaining that Elaine had written to tell them she was coming to visit them and the letter must have been lost.”

  “That was clever of you,” the Earl remarked.

  “I felt it was the only thing to do in the circumstances, but, of course, everything was made easy by your action immediately after the accident occurred.”

  The Earl inclined his head in acknowledgement, feeling that there was nothing he could say.

  He was relieved when the door opened and the butler entered with a bottle of champagne and with him a footman bearing crystal cut glasses on a silver salver.

  Lord Bullington accepted a glass and quickly drank half of it as if he needed a drink to sustain him.

  Only when the servants, having put the champagne in an ice bucket by the Earl’s side, had left the room did he say,

  “I have something else to discuss with you, Kingsclere.”

  “What is that?”

  Again Lord Bullington seemed to hesitate over his words before he said,

  “His Majesty, as you doubtless know, is endeavouring to interest himself in horse racing, a sport of which, having previously been a sailor, he knows very little.”

  “I have heard that,” the Earl agreed.

  “The King has been asking me to make some suggestions regarding the appointment of a Master of the Horse and, with your permission, I would like to put your name forward.”

  When he finished speaking, the Earl stared at him as if he could hardly believe what he had heard.

  “Put forward my name?” he repeated.

  Lord Bullington took another sip from his glass.

  “I am in your debt, Kingsclere. You saved both me and my family a very great deal of unpleasantness and I am prepared to admit that I acted hastily and without due thought. I am grateful to you and I also think, without prejudice, that you would be an exceedingly good Master of the Horse if you are prepared to stay in England more often than you have done previously.”

  The Earl drew in his breath.

  “I can hardly believe what I am hearing,” he said with a faint smile.

  “What I was thinking,” Lord Bullington went on as if he had not spoken, “is that it would amuse His Majesty and certainly be instructive, if you could hold a Horse Show here during the autumn before the winter Season starts.”

  The Earl seemed speechless and he went on,

  “I thought a Steeplechase or perhaps some competitions for horses of different grades would be an attraction and naturally Their Majesties would wish to stay at Kingsclere, which the King is well aware is one of the finest houses in England.”

  If Lord Bullington had exploded a bomb in front of him, the Earl could not have been more surprised.

  At the same time his quick mind instantly saw just how capably he could organise such an unusual entertainment.

  It would certainly be to the advantage of British racing as a whole that the Monarch was interested in what was known as ‘The Sport of Kings.’

  But it seemed so incredible that such a suggestion should come from Lord Bullington.

  Then with an air of surprise he heard himself saying,

  “It would of course be a great honour to have Their Majesties to stay here and I quite understand, Bullington, what you are envisaging regarding the horses. As I expect you know, there would be a large number of competitors from this County let alone many others.”

  “That is what I thought,” Lord Bullington replied, “and as Master of the Horse you will have things very much your own way and can be in London as little or as much as you like.”

  “I can only say that I accept your suggestion with pleasure,” the Earl said, “and I am very grateful.”

  “As I am grateful to you,” Lord Bullington added.

  The Earl reached out his hand and grasped the bottle of champagne by the neck.

  “I think, Bullington, it is something we should certainly drink to.”

  Lord Bullington held out his glass and the Earl refilled it and then his own.

  Shortly afterwards Lord Bullington took his leave, saying as he reached the door,

  “Goodbye, Kingsclere. I wish you a quick recovery and you will doubtless hear from the Lord Chamberlain within a week or so.”

  “I shall be awaiting my instructions with interest and anticipation,” the Earl replied.

  The door closed behind Lord Bullington and the Earl leaned back against his pillows.

  Never in his wildest dreams would he have expected to have such a conversation with Lord Bullington or to find himself now part of the Court circle.

  To be Master of the Horse, he reflected, was the only position at Court that he could accept, knowing that he could carry out his duties more proficiently than anybody else.

  Already he was beginning to plan how he would construct a Racecourse on his estate and build the extra stables that would be needed both permanently and temporarily for the event that would take place in the autumn.

  He had also begun making a list in his mind of those of his neighbours who had the best horses when Imeldra came into the room.

  Looking pale and a little worried she ran to her father’s chair saying,

  “What happened? What did he want?”

  The Earl smiled.

  “You will never believe this, my darling, and I am finding it hard to believe it myself, but you see in front of you the future Master of the Horse to His Majesty, King William IV!”

  Imeldra stared at him.

  “What are you saying? What are you telling me?”

  “I am telling you, my sweet, that Bullington is advising the King that I am the best man for the job.”

  “I cannot – believe it!”

 
; “Neither can I, as it happens,” the Earl replied. “But we are to have here in the autumn the most impressive array of horses of all descriptions for His Majesty’s inspection and he with the Queen will be staying in the house. There is also a Racecourse to be built in record time and the sooner we start the better!”

  Imeldra gave a little cry that was half a laugh. Then she put her arms around her father’s neck and laid her cheek against his.

  “Oh, Papa, it is so wonderful and exactly what I have wished for you. Now you will not have to go abroad, but you can stay here in England with me.”

  “Fate certainly works in strange ways,” the Earl agreed. “I prevented you by my accident from going to Court and so now the Court is coming to you, my dearest, so why should we complain?”

  “Why indeed? Oh, Papa, you will make not only the most handsome outstanding Master of the Horse there has ever been, but certainly one who knows more about horses than any of your predecessors.”

  “I hope so,” the Earl said, “but one thing is quite certain, I am damned if I will have all those horses here and not be able to ride myself.”

  “We will get you well, I promise you we will get you well,” Imeldra said. “I must tell Beryl. She will be so excited.”

  She turned to walk to the door before the Earl said,

  “Yes, tell Beryl, but don’t forget, not a word about Lady Bullington.”

  “No, of course not, Papa,” Imeldra agreed, “and I suppose Lord Bullington has suggested this because he is so grateful that there was no scandal.”

  “I saw to that,” the Earl said. “It was fortunate that I could think clearly before the doctor poured that filthy laudanum down my throat.”

  “Your old Nanny once said before she died that there was no small boy quicker at getting into mischief than you and no one so clever at getting out of it again.”

  The Earl laughed.

  “I suppose Nanny was right. At the same time I am glad I have not lost my magic touch.”

  “So am I,” Imeldra smiled.

  She came back to kiss him again.

  “Oh, Papa, I am so very very glad. It is everything I have ever wanted for you and now we can entertain here and have parties and it will be just like the old days before you started wandering over the face of Europe.”

  “Just like the old days,” the Earl repeated.

  Imeldra knew that he was thinking about how much he would miss her mother and that, however hard she tried, it would not be the same for him as having a wife as hostess to help him.

  She ran to Beryl’s room.

  Beryl had gone to bed after being relieved of her attendance on the Earl when Danvers came in to pull back the curtains at eight o’clock.

  Although she had dozed for a little while during the night, she had been unable to sleep properly in case the Earl should want her and she had therefore got into her own bed and slept dreamlessly until her luncheon was brought to her at one o’clock.

  Now she was bathed and dressed and was just about to go downstairs when Imeldra burst into her room to tell her the good news.

  “Master of the Horse!” Beryl exclaimed. “What could be a more exciting post and how clever, how very very clever of His Majesty to think of your father.”

  “Yes, it really was, was it not?” Imeldra agreed at once, thinking it best not to mention Lord Bullington’s part in it.

  Imeldra and Beryl went into the garden and it was not until teatime that they went to the Earl’s sitting room to find him giving instructions to his Agent and the Estate Manager.

  They were looking a little bewildered as the Earl explained sharply and clearly exactly what he required and the list of the orders that both men were taking down as he spoke had already covered several pages of their notebooks.

  “Papa, you are doing too much and you have been up for far too long,” Imeldra scolded him.

  Both the Agent and the Manager looked guilty.

  “There is lots of time before the autumn,” Imeldra went on, “and now you have to rest, otherwise you will be too ill to entertain your distinguished guests and the whole thing will be a flop.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, my Lady,” the Agent piped up. “We will come back tomorrow if his Lordship’s well enough to see us.”

  “I shall be well enough,” the Earl insisted. “I am just starting to get the plans worked out in detail. I want a full-size Racecourse, which will mean levelling some of the land at the end of the gallop.”

  “Yes, of course, my Lord,” the Agent agreed at once.

  Because Imeldra was waiting at the door, he hurried through it bowing respectfully to her as he left.

  As Imeldra closed the door behind them, Danvers came into the bedroom.

  “I’m glad to see you, my Lady,” he said. “His Lordship refuses to listen to me and I’ve been sayin’ for the last two hours he should be back in bed.”

  “Well, I am prepared to go now,” the Earl said a little wearily. “My head is all right, but my leg is aching.”

  “I’ll see to it, my Lord.”

  As Danvers spoke, he took the stool away from under the Earl’s leg and pushed his chair into the bedroom.

  Imeldra brought in the flowers that she had arranged and, as she put them on a table by the window, she wondered if the Marquis’s horses would be competing in the autumn.

  She was sure they would. At the same time, as the days went by after she had sent him the anonymous letter about Madame Jolie, she could not help being afraid that perhaps her father’s information was wrong.

  Supposing that after all the Frenchwoman had not been married to the Count Cellini, that her son was not his and that when she had married the Marquis it had been a legal marriage and André was the rightful Marquis of Marizon after all?

  As the questions haunted and taunted her whatever she was doing, Imeldra calculated a thousand times how long it would take the Marquis to journey to Italy, find out the truth and then journey on to Paris to confront Madame Jolie.

  However quickly he travelled, it still seemed to her it must be a century before she could see him again.

  All she could do was just send out her thoughts of love and her prayers that he might be saved.

  Even to think of him and know they could not be together until everything was settled was still an agony and, even though she believed fervently in her heart that all would be well, she felt the tears come into her eyes.

  Because she had no wish for her father to know what she was suffering, she went to her own bedroom.

  A little later Beryl came to find her, expecting her to be with her father.

  The Earl had gone back to bed and was sitting up with the big vases of flowers on either side of him, in the huge red silk-canopied bed which all the Earls of Kingsclere had slept in since the house was first built.

  Above his head was a very ornate Coat of Arms and Beryl thought, as she looked at the Earl, that the family motto was very appropriate.

  Translated from the Latin, it read, Fight to Win.

  As she walked towards the Earl, he lifted his glass as if in a toast to her and she said,

  “Nothing could be more appropriate at this moment than the motto above your head.”

  “That is what I have been thinking myself,” the Earl agreed, “and I suppose Imeldra has told you the good news?”

  “I am so glad and so very very happy for you,” Beryl said. “I know what a success you will be.”

  The Earl put down his glass.

  “If I am not a success, I shall not only be a grave disappointment to myself but I shall feel I have failed both Imeldra and you.”

  “I have always thought you should have an important post not only in the County but in the country,” Beryl commented. “You are somebody people want to follow and admire.”

  “They can hardly have felt much admiration for me in the last few years.”

  Beryl laughed.

  “If you are thinking about your reputation, I assure you that he
re, while a few old women look down their noses, the men are both admiring and envious and the younger ones would give their right arm to be you.”

  The Earl looked startled.

  “Is that true?”

  “I promise you it is true,” Beryl said. “I have heard them talking about you and all the men of my father’s age and my husband’s were saying that if they had the chance they would be as dashing, as gallant and as fascinating as you, while the younger men, although you may not realise it, copy the way you tie your cravats, the way you ride and count their conquests in the same way they think you do.”

  Beryl spoke impulsively without thinking and then she blushed at what she had said.

  The Earl laughed.

  “You certainly do surprise me, Beryl. What you have just said is something that I never expected to hear.”

  “It is true, it is really true and therefore, if what Imeldra tells me is going to happen in the autumn, it will make everyone polish up not only their horses but their brains as well as their good manners and their interest in life.”

  The Earl put out his hand.

  “Come here, Beryl. I want to talk to you.”

  She moved nearer to him and, when she put her fingers in his, he felt the little quiver that went through her.

  As he seemed to expect it, she sat down on the edge of the mattress facing him, feeling surprised and a little apprehensive of what he was going to say.

  “Last night,” the Earl said in his deep voice, “you told me you had never been in love. When I thought about it afterwards, I came to the conclusion that was not true.”

  “What – do you – mean?” Beryl stammered.

  “I think you are in love, but you are afraid to admit it even to yourself.”

  She started and would have taken her hand away from his, but he held it closer in his.

  “Looking back into the past,” he said, “I think, although I may be mistaken, that when you used to come here when Imeldra was quite young, you were aware of me then as a man.”

  The colour flooded into Beryl’s face and she looked away from him.

  “I thought you were very attractive,” the Earl went on quietly, “and, when I was told you were married, I hoped you would be happy. Now I know that was not so and because you have come back into my life, Beryl, I hope perhaps I could give you that happiness you have always missed.”