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  He had asked her to be really married to him as a solution to his problem.

  She had made the suggestion that somehow she could disappear or appear to have died to save him from being tied to a wife he did not want.

  If he knew that her grandfather was the Earl of Winsdale and her mother had been his mother’s closest friend, he would feel obliged to marry her, whatever his feelings in the matter.

  At the moment she was an obscure unimportant nobody, but, as her mother’s daughter, she was in fact somebody in the Social world in which he moved.

  Looking up into the Marchioness’s face, Ajanta said quickly,

  “Please, ma’am, please give me your word of honour that you will not mention to the Marquis or anybody else that you knew Mama or anything about her. I cannot – explain, but at the – moment this – must be kept a – secret.”

  The Marchioness looked bewildered and then she replied,

  “I expect you are afraid of upsetting your father, but, of course, I hope that there will be no secrets between you and my son.”

  She waited for Ajanta to speak and when she did not do so, she added,

  “I understand, you want to tell him in your own time and therefore I promise you, my dear, that I will not say anything until you allow me to do so.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” Ajanta cried.

  The Marchioness looked down at her with a very soft expression in her eyes.

  “You are everything I wanted in my son’s wife,” she said. “I have prayed that he would find the right girl and not one of those London women I find hard and brittle and who have no conception of real love or how wonderful it can be.”

  She put out her hand to touch Ajanta’s cheek softly,

  “You are so beautiful and I know that you and Quintus will be very happy together, just as you say your father and mother found happiness despite all they had to suffer.”

  Her words brought the tears to Ajanta’s eyes.

  “Kiss me, my dearest child,” the Marchioness said, “and now I know it is time for you to dress for dinner. Tomorrow I hope to be feeling well enough to come downstairs to meet your father and the rest of your family.”

  “They will love to meet you.”

  “Thank you,” the Marchioness smiled. “I look forward to having a long talk with you when I am a little stronger, but don’t worry, I will keep your secret.”

  Back in her own bedroom, Ajanta felt her head whirling.

  How could she have imagined, how could she have known that after all these years she would meet one of her mother’s friends, who by an extraordinary coincidence was the mother of the man she was supposed to be marrying?

  ‘He must never – never know,’ she told herself fiercely, ‘and I shall never – never – marry.’

  She went to the window to look at the swans on the lake and the sun sinking behind the trees.

  Tonight it seemed lovelier than it had ever been before and the beauty of it tempted her.

  ‘All this could be yours,’ it seemed to say, ‘yours forever.’

  The house itself was saying the same words and the room in which she was standing with the Goddesses and the cupids on the ceiling were joining in.

  She could see herself living here with the Marquis and perhaps, because he would think it his duty, he would kiss her, hold her in his arms, and perhaps even sleep with her on the bed with its lace and silk hangings.

  Then, although her lips did not move, she heard a voice ring out from her heart and her soul saying clearly and unmistakably until the sound of it vibrated high into the sky,

  ‘No! Not without love! Never, never without love!’

  *

  When Ajanta had left his private room, the Marquis had turned from the window to stare at the door she had closed behind her.

  Then he walked to his desk and rang a gold bell that summoned his secretary from the office next door.

  “Has the jeweller arrived, Clements?” the Marquis asked the pleasant-faced man of about forty who had looked after his affairs for over ten years.

  “Yes, my Lord. He’s waiting until it’s convenient for your Lordship to see him.”

  “Send him in,” the Marquis said, “and, as I have a little extra work for him to do, he will undoubtedly have to stay the night.”

  “I have already anticipated that might be the case, your Lordship,” Mr. Clements replied.

  He went to fetch the jeweller and the Marquis sat deep in thought until the man arrived.

  A short while later the Marquis went upstairs to greet his mother.

  By the time he reached the South wing, she was in bed looking very attractive in a becoming little lace cap trimmed with bows of blue ribbon over her white hair and a shawl of the same lace lined with satin over her shoulders.

  “Dearest Quintus!” she exclaimed as the Marquis entered the room. “I am so sorry I have been so tiresome and could not come as soon as you required me to do so.”

  “You are here now and that is all that, matters,” the Marquis answered. “How are you, Mama?”

  He kissed his mother’s hand and then her cheek and sat down on the side of her bed, still holding her hand in his.

  “I have seen Ajanta,” the Marchioness said, “and, Quintus, she is adorable! Just the sort of wife I wished you to find.”

  “I am glad you think that, Mama.”

  “How could you have been so clever as to discover such a beautiful and charming girl? I shall look forward to meeting the rest of her family tomorrow.”

  “You will like them all.”

  “I have prayed and prayed that you would be married to somebody you loved,” the Marchioness went on, “and now my prayers have been answered. I am just wondering how I can express my gratitude to God and, of course, to you for being so clever.”

  “You can do that quite easily, Mama, by getting well,” the Marquis replied. “You know how it upsets me when you are in pain.”

  “I know, dearest, but I have a feeling that since now I am so happy about you, that I shall feel better than I have for a long time.”

  Her fingers clung to his as she added,

  “I have been so worried about you these last two years. Your life seemed so aimless and was such a waste of your intelligence.”

  The Marquis looked surprised.

  “I had no idea that you felt like that, Mama.”

  The Marchioness smiled. “You can be quite certain there were plenty of people to tell me who was your latest acquisition and they succeeded each other very rapidly.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “There is one thing about you, Mama, you are always well informed!”

  “It has not always made me very happy,” the Marchioness replied. “Then, when I felt almost in despair when I heard about your association with the beautiful Lady Burnham, you surprise and delight me by producing this exquisite creature who might have stepped out of a story book.”

  “She is certainly very beautiful,” the Marquis agreed. “And intelligent!”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “Sometimes I think too much so. You will hardly believe it, Mama, but she actually argues with me!”

  The Marchioness laughed.

  “Can there exist a woman who does not agree with everything you say, being convinced that you must always be right?”

  “Wait until you know Ajanta a little better.”

  “That is what I intend to do and if she can make you exercise your very good brain and prevent it from becoming fat and lazy, then I shall know that those quickly fading love affairs are a thing of the past.”

  The Marquis rose from the bed.

  “Both you and Ajanta frighten me, Mama,” he said, “and if you combine forces then I shall feel I can no longer go on fighting for my supremacy, but will have to surrender to you unconditionally.”

  “That is what we must make sure of,” the Marchioness laughed.

  The Marquis kissed her and left.

  As he went to change f
or dinner, he found himself thinking of several ways in which he could defeat Ajanta in the arguments he was quite certain she would be waiting to have with him either tonight or tomorrow.

  ‘How can she be so beautiful as well as so clever?’ he asked himself.

  Then he remembered that Ajanta had already answered that question in just one word – love.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “It has been a fantastic day,” Lyle said as he kissed Ajanta goodbye. “I have never enjoyed myself so much!”

  The young men with him all said the same and Ajanta noticed the admiring looks they gave the Marquis as they enthused over his horses.

  It had, Ajanta thought, been one of the happiest days she herself had ever spent and she knew that it was because Lyle’s excitement was infectious.

  She was aware how much it meant to him to bring his friends over from Oxford and for them to be able to ride the Marquis’s superb horses round the racetrack and also take part in the point-to-point he had arranged for them.

  The excellent luncheon, to which they did full justice, and the excitement of Charis and Darice was all part of Ajanta’s contentment.

  ‘If only this could go on forever,’ she reflected, but knew that the future was waiting like a dark shadow to dim the sunshine.

  Lyle had reached the front door when he put his hand into the pocket of his coat and exclaimed,

  “I nearly forgot! Papa told me to give you this.”

  He put a small book into Ajanta’s hands saying,

  “Here are some Greek poems he has found and he is quite sure you will enjoy them as much as he did.”

  “I shall!” Ajanta exclaimed.

  Then she realised that the Marquis was listening and added,

  “I should not say so in front of his Lordship! He does not approve of women who can read Greek and Latin and thinks I am becoming a ‘blue-stocking’.”

  “If he disapproves,” Lyle said in mock dismay, “I had best take it straight back to Papa.”

  “No, no, of course not!” Ajanta laughed, holding the book tightly to prevent him from taking it from her.

  Nevertheless, when she waved goodbye to her brother and his friends, she thought of the lovely Lady Burnham and was quite certain that she did not read Greek, Latin or perhaps anything except the Social columns of the newspapers.

  Lyle and his friends had enjoyed an early dinner before they returned to Oxford, and now Ajanta started to climb the staircase knowing that Darice had gone to bed before dinner and Charis was saying goodnight to the Marchioness.

  She was halfway up the stairs when the Marquis said,

  “When you have said goodnight to my mother, Ajanta, which is where I am imagine you are going now, I would like to speak to you in my study.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Ajanta tried to smile as she spoke, but her heart sank as she wished that this was not to be the end of what had been such a perfect day.

  There had been so much to do in the last forty-eight hours that there had not been a second for what she knew must be the inevitable talk with the Marquis when he would decide her future.

  ‘Why can we not go on as we are now?’ she asked despairingly.

  The answer lay with Lord Burnham, who was the ogre in her Fairy tale, threatening the Marquis not with death but with the scandal of divorce proceedings.

  Last night when Ajanta had gone to bed with the laughter of her family still ringing in her ears, she had asked herself once again if she should not sink her pride and accept the Marquis’s suggestion that they should be properly married.

  It was impossible not to keep thinking of how much she could do for those she loved!

  But all the suggestions being made for their wellbeing she knew were like a card castle, which would collapse at the first breath of wind.

  This morning the Marchioness had said to her,

  “I have been thinking, dearest Ajanta, that when you and Quintus are married, it would be a mistake for you not to be alone together. I am therefore hoping you will let me have your two sisters to live with me at the Dower House. It is so near that you could see them as much as you wished and I think that they would be happy with me.”

  “I know they would be, ma’am,” Ajanta replied. Darice had already attached herself to the Marchioness and had even said to Ajanta,

  “She is so understanding. When I am talking to her it’s like being with Mama.”

  Almost as if she was thought-reading, the Marchioness had continued,

  “I think it would be in Charis’s best interests for her to go for at least six months to a good finishing school and what could be better than the one your mother and I attended and where we were very happy?”

  Ajanta had to agree. At the same time she knew it was all wishful thinking and that when she had to disappear all these plans would come to an end.

  Then they would be back at the Vicarage with nothing to do except talk about what might have been.

  ‘I love him! How can I bear never to see him again?’ she asked in the darkness of the night.

  Then once again she saw Lady Burnham’s beautiful face and knew that to live with the Marquis, loving him as she did, and know that he was thinking not of her, but of another woman would be to suffer all the tortures of the damned.

  ‘I have to do what is right,’ she told herself. ‘To marry just for position and money would be wrong and wicked – however much it would benefit the family.’

  She thought that perhaps, because the Marquis was so kind, he might allow them to keep the horses he had promised Charis and Darice and might sometimes let Lyle come over to Stowe from Oxford.

  He would see the Marquis and talk to him while to her he would be lost forever and she would only have her memories of him.

  As she expected, when she reached the Marchioness’s room, Charis was sitting beside the bed and Ajanta heard her laughter ring out as she entered.

  “I was just telling her Ladyship what a wonderful, exciting, happy day we have had,” Charis said when her sister appeared, “and it is all due to me! I found your future husband for you!”

  “Yes, you did,” Ajanta agreed.

  “It’s the luckiest accident that ever happened!” Charis exclaimed.

  “I think so too,” the Marchioness said in her soft voice. “And now, as I am sure there will be another happy day tomorrow, I think, Charis, you should go to bed and dream about all the compliments that Lyle’s friends paid you.”

  “I think really they were complimenting the horse I was riding,” Charis smiled, “but I liked to hear them all the same.”

  She bent forward, kissed the Marchioness goodnight, saying,

  “Thank you, thank you for being so kind. May I come and talk to you tomorrow? I still have lots more things to tell you.”

  “Yes, of course, dearest child. I shall look forward to it,” the Marchioness replied.

  Charis kissed Ajanta before leaving the room.

  When she had gone, the Marchioness said,

  “Your sister will be very lovely in a year’s time and you must certainly give a ball for her here and another in London.”

  Ajanta drew in her breath, but, before she could reply, the Marchioness went on,

  “I was thinking today when I was watching your sisters and Lyle’s young friends from Oxford, that what Quintus missed as a child was not having any brothers and sisters. I have always regretted so bitterly that after he was born I was unable to have any more children.”

  The inference of what the Marchioness was saying was obvious, but there was nothing Ajanta could say in reply.

  She could only think that nothing would be more marvellous than to have the Marquis’s children and know that she could make his life as full and happy, as theirs had been when her mother was alive.

  “It has been a delightful day,” the Marchioness said with a sigh, “but now I admit to feeling a little tired. Yet because there is so much I want to do with your two adorable sisters, I am determined t
o get well. In fact I am certain I feel better already.”

  “I will pray very hard that you will be,” Ajanta answered.

  She kissed the Marchioness and said goodnight, but did not realise as she went from the room that the older woman looked after her with a worried expression in her eyes, sensing that there was something wrong, but unable to think what it could possibly be.

  Ajanta went slowly down the stairs.

  She could not escape from the miserable feeling that she was about to reach the end of the Fairy story and no one was going to live happily ever after.

  ‘At least I shall have it all to remember,’ she thought, as she reached the marble hall.

  Then she walked more and more slowly down the passage leading to the Marquis’s private study.

  She felt as if she was already saying goodbye to the pictures, to the furniture, to the house itself, which she thought in some strange way, had become part of her, although of course, that was a ridiculous idea!

  She paused outside the study door, drew in her breath and instinctively, because she knew she had to be very resolute, her chin went up and she walked in.

  She expected the Marquis to be sitting at his desk, but instead he was standing in front of the mantelpiece waiting for her.

  She closed the door behind her, but though she knew that his eyes were on her as she walked towards him, she found herself unable to look at him.

  She wanted to speak naturally but, when she reached him and stopped a few feet in front of him, her voice seemed to have died in her throat and she could only wait.

  “We seem to have been so busy yesterday and today,” the Marquis said after what seemed a long pause, “that there has been no time, Ajanta, for us to finish our conversation.”

  “No,” she murmured.

  “I think you will remember that I made a suggestion to you and you made one to me and I think we should come to some decision as to which we accept.”

  “Y-yes – of course,” Ajanta replied.

  Because she was near the Marquis and because she knew how handsome and attractive he was looking in his evening clothes, she felt as if every nerve in her body vibrated towards him.

  Yet at the same time she felt as if she loved him so overwhelmingly that it sapped her will and she felt helpless and ready to do anything he asked of her.