Pure and Untouched Page 14
“It was the Czar Nicholas at that time,” the Duke interposed.
“It was indeed, Your Grace, a cruel, wicked tyrant whose crimes have left an ineradicable mark on the history of our country.”
As the Priest spoke, he crossed himself, “The Czar sent members of the Secret Police to Odessa, but by that time the Princess had taken her vows in the small community of working nuns and I was able to send them away saying that Her Serene Highness now belonged to God, and even the Czar had no jurisdiction over her. “This, God forgive me, was not quite true. When I had accepted Her Serene Highness into the Church, I had made her submission to her vows revocable so that if at any time she wished to do so she could return to the world.”
“But the Czar was not aware of it?”
“No one was aware except myself,” the Priest answered, “and of course, the Princess.”
There was silence for a moment as he thought back into the past.
Then he said,
“After a few years the small community of nuns moved from the very inadequate and uncomfortable house which was their Convent into the Palace. This was after Her Serene Highness’s father had died and he had left her the Palace in his will.”
“So the Palace became a Convent,” the Duke said.
“Exactly,” the Priest agreed, “and it was more convenient for me and for them. We also had room for a hospital which we arranged in one wing of the Palace.”
“They were nursing nuns?”
“All of them and they are the only nurses to be found in the whole of Southern Russia. Our doctors are very grateful to have them, I can assure you.”
The Duke knew it was very rare for women to be nurses either in peace or war and he knew, having served as a soldier, how inadequate the military doctors and orderlies were and that the troops more often died from lack of attention than at the hands of their enemies.
“Everything was peaceful and uneventful,” the Priest went on, “until 1865 when Sir Reginald Sheridan came to Odessa.” “Papa!” Anoushka exclaimed.
“Your father,” the Priest agreed. “He had been a great traveller, having been round the world several times, but the strain of the journeys had proved too much for his health and he bought a house on the outskirts of the City, intending to write a book about his journeys and also to spend the rest of his life in a climate that suited him.”
“I seem to remember an author of that name,” the Duke came in.
“I have copies of the three books he wrote,” the Priest replied, “and I will give them to Your Grace.” “Thank you, Father.”
“Sir Reginald was not only a very distinguished man but also an extremely interesting one and we became, I am honoured to say, friends,” the Priest said. “Then the second winter he was here he became seriously ill.”
The Duke felt he already knew the end of the story.
“He was so ill,” the Priest continued, “that thinking he was dying Her Serene Highness had him moved into the Convent or Palace, whichever you like to call it, where he had a quiet room overlooking the garden and the sea where we expected him to breathe his last.”
“But he lived!” Anoushka cried in a rapt voice.
“He lived entirely owing to your mother’s ministrations,” the Priest answered, “and while she nursed him they fell in love.”
The old man spoke quite clearly. Then he went on,
“They had found a happiness together that could only have come from God and they asked me what they should do about it.”
“And what did you reply?” the Duke enquired.
“I married them,” the Priest said simply. “It had of course to be a very secret marriage, because if the Czar had learnt what had happened, even though he was not now the cruel Nicholas but Czar Alexander II, Her Serene Highness’s alliance, even with someone so highly distinguished as Sir Reginald, would not have been permitted.”
“I can understand that,” the Duke said.
The Priest sighed.
“I do not think I have ever known two people so happy and it was easy for them to keep their secret when everyone thought Sir Reginald was still too ill to go back to his own house and your mother had become the Mother Superior. They could therefore be alone without anybody else being aware of it.”
“I can understand now,” Anoushka said in a very low voice, “as I have never been able to do before, why they were so happy.”
She looked at the Duke as she spoke and he just knew that she was thinking of the rapture and ecstasy they had found together in the little hut.
He smiled at her and then forced himself to listen again to the Priest.
“Your father and mother were rapturously happy,” the old man was saying, “until several years later when Her Serene Highness discovered that she was with child.”
“How old was she then?” the Duke asked.
“She was very close to her fortieth birthday, so it was something that neither she nor Sir Reginald had any idea might happen.”
“What did she do?”
“It was quite easy because of the white robes Her Serene Highness wore to conceal her condition until it was nearing the time for her baby to be born.”
The Priest was silent for a moment as if he was remembering the long discussion there must have been between the three of them.
“What did you do?” the Duke asked as if he could hardly bear the suspense of not knowing.
“We announced that the doctor who was attending Sir Reginald wished him to go to Constantinople for a second medical opinion on his condition. Of course he was too ill to travel alone and was therefore accompanied by the Reverend Mother and her maid, who was an elderly woman utterly devoted to her and who she would have trusted with her life.”
“So Anoushka was born in Constantinople,” the Duke said.
“I wish I could remember it,” Anoushka sighed.
“You were born,” the Priest then added, “and three weeks later Sir Reginald with Her Serene Highness returned with you to Odessa.”
“How did you explain the new addition to the Convent?” the Duke asked.
“I am afraid that to make the story of Anoushka’s appearance convincing we had to tell a number of lies,” the Priest answered, “for which I did many long penances.”
“What was your explanation?” “Sir Reginald announced that when he was in Constantinople he had found a distant relative who had just given birth to a child. She had been recently widowed and she had not enough money to return home before the baby was born. Unfortunately, while the baby survived, she died.”
“Very ingenious.”
“To make it sound more convincing,” the Priest went on, “Sir Reginald announced that he had adopted the child as his own and, when she could speak, Anoushka called him ‘Papa’.” “I loved Papa,” Anoushka said, “and, although nobody told me he had died, I knew it before I was informed that he had left me all his money.” “How did you know?” the Duke asked.
“It is difficult to explain,” Anoushka replied. “I felt a sudden sense of loss and, when I was praying in the Chapel, I suddenly felt him near me, so near me that I knew that it was true and he was no longer in Odessa, but in another world from which he could reach me.”
“You were blessed, my child, by his presence,” the Priest said, “and I know that because his thoughts were always with you, if he was able to do so, he would come to you and be as near as he was permitted to be.”
“What I cannot understand,” the Duke said, “is why Sir Reginald sent her away.”
“I am just coming to that, Your Grace. Her Serene Highness died unexpectedly when Anoushka was only eight years old. I think perhaps because she was older than the average mother when Anoushka was born and because the doctor who attended her in Constantinople was not very skilful, she often suffered pains she would not admit. She grew very thin and found it difficult to eat.”
“I did not know this!” Anoushka cried.
“Nor did your father. She was so happy
with you both that she would never have allowed there to be a cloud in your sky. But I had known for a long time that she was not as well as she should be. Nevertheless, when she died it was a great shock.”
“I can remember it,” Anoushka said in a whisper.
Because she sounded so unhappy, the Duke took her hand in his and, as if the touch of him comforted her, she moved her chair a little nearer to him and held on to him almost as if she felt he was a lifeline she could not let go.
“It was then I realised the full impact of Her Serene Highness’s death,” the Priest said, “and I knew it would be dangerous for Anoushka to stay here.”
“Dangerous?” the Duke asked.
“I had to inform the Czar in St. Petersburg that a member of his family had died and I knew that the moment the news reached him not only Court Officials, but the Secret Police would descend on us to make enquiries as to the cause of Her Serene Highness’s death. We had thought living here, at what seemed like the end of the world, we were safe from gossip and the tongues of those who are always ready to make trouble.”
“What did you do?”
“The important thing of which both Sir Reginald and I were aware was that, whoever her father might be, Anoushka was in fact, Royal, the grandchild of an Archduke, a cousin of the reigning Czar.”
“You mean they might have taken her away?”
“Most certainly they would have done so,” the Priest replied. “She would have been taken to St. Petersburg and brought up in the life from which her mother had fled.”
“Now I understand,” the Duke sighed.
“I thought you would,” the Priest answered. “That was why, even though it was a great wrench, Sir Reginald, thinking only of Anoushka, took her to France.”
“You knew about the Convent du Sacré Coeur where my sister is the Mother Superior?” the Duke asked.
“I had heard of it through a Catholic Priest with whom I had a lifelong correspondence and Sir Reginald knew Your Grace’s family and had met some members of it.”
“But it was your idea that Anoushka should go to France?”
“It was my idea and Sir Reginald agreed that it would be the best and safest place for her.”
“It was very hard to say goodbye to Papa,” Anoushka admitted.
“I can understand that,” the Duke agreed, “but he was saving you from a very much worse life. I don’t think you would have been happy in St. Petersburg.”
“Mama always spoke of it in horror and I knew she was frightened of the Secret Police.”
“There is no one in Russia who is not frightened of them even now,” the Priest said, “and, although things are better, it would be a mistake, Your Grace, for anybody here to know of Anoushka’s real identity.”
“I agree with you,” the Duke said, “and I promise you that nobody will ever be aware as far as I am concerned of Anoushka’s Russian origins, although I imagine there would be no reason, now that her father is dead, for not saying she was his child.”
“Not in England, at any rate,” the Priest said, “but I would rather you did not speak of it in Odessa.”
“I will not do so,” the Duke promised, “and now that we have come here and you have told me what I wished to know, I shall take Anoushka away.”
He paused before he added quietly,
“Before we leave I would like to ask you, Father, if you will bless us, because, although we were married in a Catholic Church, I think it would make my wife happy to have a special blessing from you in the Church where she really belongs.”
“There is nothing which could make me happier, Your Grace,” the Priest replied simply. As the Duke rose to his feet, Anoushka laid her cheek for a moment against his shoulder and he heard her whisper so that only he could hear,
“You understand! Oh, my darling, wonderful, precious husband, you understand!”
*
After dinner that night, the Duke and Anoushka went out on deck to look at the lights of Odessa.
The yacht was no longer tied to the quay, but was anchored at the entrance to the Harbour from where they had a panoramic view of the town, the tall cypress trees and the undulating country beyond it.
It had been beautiful in the daytime, but now at night it had a mystic glory that was accentuated by the moonlight on the golden domes and the glittering lights in the houses which looked like stars that had fallen down from the sky.
The real stars filled the great arc of the Heavens above them and the moon sent shafts of light glimmering over the waters of the sea making a picture, the Duke thought, he would never forget.
When he realised that Anoushka, standing by his side, was very silent, he turned to look at her feeling that no beauty, however sensational, could hold him when she was there.
As if she had need of him, because the sight of where she had lived with her father and mother and all that she had heard today made her emotional, she moved closer to him and he knew she wanted the comfort and strength of his arms and he held her close.
“What are you thinking?” he asked in his deep voice.
“That no woman could possibly have a more intriguing and exciting background, but, my darling, although this must be a secret between ourselves, we must never forget.” “I knew you would feel like that,” the Duke said.
“What is so wonderful is that, as Papa and Mama loved each other so tremendously – I was born of love.”
The Duke did not speak, but his lips were on her hair as she went on,
“That is what I want our children to be, born of a love as great as theirs so that they in their turn will be able to give love, as I can give it to you.”
“And I to you, my precious, adorable little wife.” The Duke looked at the sky for a moment. Then he said, and his voice was very moving,
“I asked for a woman pure and untouched and that is what I found, but I was also given someone so perfect, that I want to fall down on my knees in gratitude.”
Anoushka looked up at him, her eyes no longer mysterious but deep and dark with another emotion.
“I am talking about you, my darling, and love,” the Duke went on. “To me they are one and the same. I love you until there are no words to express the depth, the breadth and the width of it, so I can only live my life trying to make you understand what you mean to me.”
Anoushka gave a little cry of sheer happiness.
Then she lifted her arms to pull his head down to hers.
“I love you, I love you!” she cried. “If you are blessed by God, so am I! No other man could understand as you do. No other man could be so wonderful.”
Her lips found the Duke’s and for a moment, as he kissed her, he was so moved by what she had said that their kiss was as spiritual and ethereal as the moonlight.
Then, as he felt her body pressed against his, the fire that was never far from the surface rose within them both and it was not the light of the moon that enveloped them, but the golden warmth of the sun.
The Duke kissed her until their hearts were beating frantically and the flames were leaping higher and higher within them and there was only one way they could express the glory and wonder of their love.
“I love – you, ” Anoushka murmured against his lips. “Show me how to make you – love me.”
“I think it is impossible to love you more than I do already,” the Duke replied. “But the night will prove me wrong.”
He took one last look at the moon, the stars, the lights of the City, and he felt as he drew Anoushka below that their beauty went with them.
It was all part, as they were, of the love of God which is purity itself.
OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES
The Barbara Cartland Eternal Collection is the unique opportunity to collect as ebooks all five hundred of the timeless beautiful romantic novels written by the world’s most celebrated and enduring romantic author.
Named the Eternal Collection because Barbara’s inspiring stories of pure love, just the same as love itself, th
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Elizabethan Lover
The Little Pretender
A Ghost in Monte Carlo
A Duel of Hearts
The Saint and the Sinner
The Penniless Peer
The Proud Princess
The Dare-Devil Duke
Diona and a Dalmatian
A Shaft of Sunlight
Lies for Love
Love and Lucia
Love and the Loathsome Leopard
Beauty or Brains
The Temptation of Torilla
The Goddess and the Gaiety Girl
Fragrant Flower
Look Listen and Love
The Duke and the Preacher’s Daughter
A Kiss for the King
The Mysterious Maid-servant
Lucky Logan Finds Love
The Wings of Ecstacy
Mission to Monte Carlo
Revenge of the Heart
The Unbreakable Spell
Never Laugh at Love
Bride to a Brigand
Lucifer and the Angel
Journey to a Star
Solita and the Spies
The Chieftain Without a Heart
No Escape from Love
Dollars for the duke
Pure and Untouched
Secrets
Fire in the Blood
Love, Lies and Marriage
THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND
Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most famous romantic novelists. With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.
Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller. Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. In addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA. In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.