73. A Tangled Web Read online

  “I am not surprised the Marquis thinks he is ‘Monarch of all he surveys’!” Carola remarked, “and, come to think of it, he has been a long time in surveying it!”

  “Don’t say that to him,” Peter implored, “he is very touchy about not having been able to come here before.”

  Carola thought privately that, if the Marquis had economised on his amusements in London and his racehorses at Newmarket, he could doubtless have opened The Hall before now.

  She knew it would irritate Peter to say so and she merely moved back into the other bedroom.

  As Peter joined her, she asked,

  “I suppose I can lock this door at night?”

  “No, of course not!” Peter replied, “the servants would think it very strange. Remember – no one must have the slightest suspicion that you are not who you are supposed to be!”

  He thought for a moment and then he said,

  “Another thing I forgot to mention is that Westwood is bringing his own manservant with him.”

  Carola looked surprised.

  “I thought American men were so self-sufficient that they did not need valets!”

  “This man is not exactly a valet and, as I understand it, he is more of a secretary and the Marquis has said that he would not be surprised if he was a spy.”

  “A spy?” Carola exclaimed.

  “Well, you know what confidential servants are like and he obviously keeps his eyes open to see that his Master is not gulled too outrageously or deceived by his so-called friends.”

  “I know exactly what you mean! At the same time it is frightening to know that there is somebody watching me and, of course, everything you and your friends do.”

  Peter did not answer because at that moment the door of Carola’s bedroom opened and a maid came in.

  Too late, both brother and sister realised that if Carola was the Marchioness as she was supposed to be, she would not be entertaining a man in her bedroom.

  Peter quickly summed up the situation and said to the maid,

  “You must be Betty, who is looking after her Ladyship?”

  The maid dropped him a curtsey.

  “That’s right, sir.”

  “I was just showing her Ladyship what improvements have been made to his Lordship’s bedroom while she has been away.”

  He paused before he went on,

  “Now it is time to dress for dinner and I am sure that you will look after her very well.”

  “I’ll do me best, sir,” the maid replied.

  Peter moved towards the door.

  “I will see you downstairs,” he called out to Carola.

  “I will try not to be late,” Carola replied, “and thank you. Thank you very much for showing me the changes.”

  As Peter closed the door, she said to the lady’s maid,

  “I see you have unpacked for me, and now I would like, if it is possible, to rest before dinner.”

  “Yes, of course, my Lady,” the maid said, starting to turn back the lace and satin cover on the bed.

  “I expect you have been told, Betty,” Carola went on, “that I have unfortunately been ill for some time and my lady’s maid was so wonderful to me while I could do nothing for myself that I have sent her off on a holiday.”

  “That be very kind of your Ladyship!” Betty said.

  “I am feeling very much better now,” Carola went on, “and I feel sure that you will not find maiding me too arduous.”

  “Of course I won’t, my Lady,” Betty replied.

  She was a pleasant-faced woman of about forty and clearly well trained in her duties.

  As she unbuttoned Carola’s gown at the back, she commented,

  “This is a beautiful house, my Lady. You must be very happy livin’ here.”

  “I love being in the country,” Carola replied, “but it can be very cold here in the winter.”

  “I expect that’s why your Ladyship got ill,” Betty remarked.

  “I am better now,” Carola answered, “and I don’t want to think about it anymore. I only hope it will not happen again.”

  “You’ll just have to take good care of yourself, my Lady, and not do too much,” Betty advised.

  She sounded so much like her old Nanny that Carola nearly laughed.

  Then, as she climbed into the bed, she said,

  “Give me plenty of time to get dressed, Betty. I don’t want to be late for Sir Peter or upset the chef.”

  “I’ll bring in your bath at seven-thirty, my Lady.”

  She left the room and Carola laughed a little to herself.

  It was such fun having a maid who would see to her bath with plenty of stalwart young footmen to carry the water upstairs.

  At home they had been reduced to just the Newmans and it had then been Peter’s idea to construct a room for the bath on the ground floor.

  It had at one time been a rather spacious cloakroom and they had placed the bath in the centre of it and then it meant carrying the water only a short distance from the kitchen.

  Here in Brox Hall, without any difficulty, the water would be brought up the stairs and along the corridor to her bedroom.

  She was quite certain that there would be two housemaids to pour the water into the bath and Betty would supervise the whole operation.

  ‘I shall have three days of sheer luxury,’ Carola told herself, ‘and I am determined to enjoy every minute of it!’

  *

  Dinner was certainly delicious and Carola and Peter talked very discreetly while the servants were in the room.

  They were waited on by the butler and two footmen. There were two in the hall and another two on duty in case they were wanted.

  When they were alone, Carola said,

  “The meal was delicious! I am hoping you are going to make a great deal of money because, for the short time we are here, I will develop a taste for real luxury!”

  “I was thinking the same thing!” Peter said, “I suppose you realise that we have already made one mistake for which I, at any rate, should be severely reprimanded.”

  “A mistake!” Carola asked in horror.

  “The Marchioness of Broxburne is staying here alone with a handsome young man called Sir Peter Greton!”

  Carola looked at her brother for a moment before she exclaimed,

  “I never thought of that! Of course it’s a great mistake!”

  “Luckily I have managed to rectify it,” Peter added with a laugh.

  “H-how have – you done – that?”

  “I told the butler, when he was asking me if everything was in order, that you were my first cousin and we were brought up together.”

  Carola clasped her hands.

  “Oh, Peter, that was clever of you! It never entered my head for a moment that the servants would be surprised that we were staying alone here.”

  “I ought to have thought of it this morning. I blame myself entirely.”

  “Well, there is no harm done to the Gretons or the Marquis,” Carola sighed.

  “I hope not,” Peter remarked, “but Stevens had a knowing look in his eyes that I disliked!”

  “You mean – he thought – ?” Carola began.

  “Of course he did! And it was extremely stupid of me not to have thought of it myself.”

  Carola did not reply and after a moment he said,

  “Now look here, Carola, because you are so pretty you have to be very careful this weekend not to become involved with any of the party.”

  “What do – you mean – by that?” Carola asked a little nervously.

  She thought that her brother was feeling for words before he said,

  “I expect you have heard that the Prince of Wales has been infatuated with a number of beautiful women in the last few years, despite the fact that he is married to Princess Alexandra.”

  “I remember Mama being shocked because somebody talked about him having an affaire de coeur with Mrs. Lily Langtry and she reckoned that it must be untrue.”

  Peter w
as frowning and after a moment she asked,

  “Is it true?”

  “I have no idea,” Peter replied quickly, “but the fact that they were talked about was a mistake and Lily Langtry, who became an actress, was not the only one.”

  “Papa said something about the Prince of Wales being in love with Lady Warwick. I have seen pictures of her in the magazines and I thought that she was very beautiful!”

  “I am not concerned with the Prince of Wales,” Peter said, “but when a beautiful woman is married it is more or less accepted that the men who meet her pay her compliments and what you might call ‘flirt’ with her.”

  “Are you saying – they will – do that to – me?” Carola asked.

  Peter thought that, as his sister was so pretty, it would surprise him if they did anything else.

  So as not to frighten her he said,

  “Of course, those who are here will be aware that you are not actually married to the Marquis, so they may treat you as if you are a young and innocent girl. At the same time, if you were married, you might find that insulting!”

  Carola held up her hands.

  “It is becoming more and more – complicated!” she complained.

  “What you have to do,” Peter said, as if he had just thought of it, “is to take any compliments you receive calmly and realise that it is all part of the act and does not mean anything else.”

  “No, of course not,” Carola agreed. “I do understand that, as a married woman, if no one said anything flattering to me, I should feel that I was hideous and a bore.”

  “I am quite sure nobody is going to think that!” Peter said loyally. “Equally, if things seem too uncomfortable, you can always retire to bed.”

  Carola laughed.

  “I can hardly slip away to bed if I receive compliments at luncheontime!”

  Peter was silent.

  It was impossible to explain to his sister what he feared. In fact, it was difficult to put it into words even to himself.

  The Marquis and his friends were all gentlemen.

  However, because Carola was so lovely and because she was playing a part that they all knew about, he was concerned.

  Not because of them but in case Carola in her nervousness should betray the whole plot.

  He was sure that he was making a ‘mountain out of a molehill’.

  At the same time the danger was there.

  He was sure before the weekend was that over there would have been a great many difficulties and pitfalls he had not accounted for.

  He realised now that Carola was looking at him.

  There was an anxious expression in her large green eyes.

  “It’s all right,” he said soothingly, “and, as they say in the theatres, ‘it will be all right on the night’! If anything upsets you, just come and tell me.”

  “Of course I will,” Carola replied, “and after all, now that I am here in the house I have always longed to see, I find it very exciting and a thrilling experience I shall never have again.”

  That, Peter thought to himself, was exactly what worried him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When she woke up the next morning, Carola felt agitated.

  This was the day – this was the frightening moment when she was to meet the Marquis for the first time.

  Apart from him, she was nervous of his friends despite Peter’s assurance that they would not talk.

  She could imagine nothing more humiliating than if it was known that she had pretended to be the Marquis’s wife.

  And therefore he had lost out to Alton Westwood.

  She was sure that the American would not only resent having been lied to, but he would also think that the English Nobility who were concerned in the plot were laughing at him behind his back.

  ‘Please God,’ she prayed, ‘don’t let me make a mistake – please – please!’

  Peter was busy the following morning putting the finishing touches to everything he had organised.

  Carola had her breakfast in her bedroom because she thought it was easier.

  When she came down she was very impressed.

  Flowers were everywhere, which made the house look lovely. They also hid any dilapidations, such as threadbare carpets and faded curtains.

  She was wearing one of her mother’s prettiest gowns and she felt that it would give her confidence.

  It was then she remembered she should have a wedding ring and fortunately her mother’s was in her jewel box.

  She slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand, feeling sure that her mother was helping her and preventing her from making any fatal mistakes.

  Even if Alton Westwood did not notice her, she knew that the Marquis and the other guests would and if they were not impressed they might in some way hurt Peter.

  She was glad that he had such important and influential friends.

  Her mother had been worried when finally he went to London and she was afraid that he might be caught up with the raffish young men who haunted the Gaiety Theatre.

  Carola guessed that they were not accepted by the more discriminating hostesses.

  However from what Peter had told her, he had been asked to all the best houses and he had once even been included in a party at Marlborough House.

  ‘It is wonderful for him,’ she told herself, ‘and if I have to skimp and economise, I know it is what Mama would want me to do.’

  Downstairs she looked into all the different rooms and inevitably ended up in the library.

  Even to look at the books was a joy she could hardly express and if she could read even one it would be an adventure into the unknown.

  Her father had always told her that she was intelligent and she knew that he was proud of the way she could debate with him on so many subjects.

  She also had a good knowledge of the different customs to be found in other countries.

  Once her father had said to her,

  “You ought to have been a boy, my darling.”

  She realised that it was the highest compliment he could pay her.

  ‘What I have to do,’ she decided, ‘is to use my brains and sound, when I am talking, much older than I really am.’

  She had arranged her hair very carefully in an exact copy of her mother’s and her elegant gown with its high-boned collar was different from what she would have worn as a young girl.

  She looked at herself in one of the gilt-framed mirrors and hoped that the Marquis would think she looked the sort of woman he might have married.

  She thought, however, that it was somewhat unfortunate that her hair was so red and her eyes so green and doubtless the former Marchionesses of Broxburne would have been more prosaic and not so spectacular.

  Then she turned from the mirror defensively.

  “I am doing my best!” she said aloud, “and if they want someone different they should not have asked me to play the part!”

  She and Peter enjoyed an excellent luncheon in the dining room, which was large enough to hold forty guests without being overcrowded.

  Peter had decided that, as they were supposed to be close cousins who had grown up together, they could call each other by their Christian names.

  “You know, of course,” he said, “that it is correct in English Society for everyone to be addressed by their full title. In fact, if you had not been obliged to call the Marquis ‘Alexander’ you would address him as ‘Marquis’, just as you will address the Duke and the other two Peers by their rank.”

  “What are their names?” Carola asked. “I should have asked you before, because obviously my ‘husband’ would have enlightened me as to who was coming to stay.”

  Peter groaned.

  “Oh, Lord, not another mistake!” he murmured.

  However he gave Carola the names of The Duke of Cumbria, Lord Durrel and the Earl of Heverham.

  Carola hoped that she would be able to remember them.

  At three o’clock, when they should have been arriving, Peter was more on
edge than his sister.

  “I only hope I have thought of everything!” he said several times.

  “Of course you have,” Carola soothed him. “You have been wonderful and no one else could have cleaned up the house so quickly or efficiently.”

  “It has cost a fortune,” Peter remarked, “and if anything goes wrong, Broxburne will be horrified at the bill!”

  “Nothing is going to go wrong,” Carola protested.

  She crossed her fingers as she spoke, hoping that Peter would not notice.

  They went into the drawing room and she seated herself elegantly on one of the gold-framed sofas. The satin damask it was covered with was slightly faded, but it was in fact a perfect background for her hair and her eyes.

  “There is one thing I must tell you – ” Peter began.

  Before he could finish the sentence, the door opened and Stevens came in to say,

  “The carriages are just coming up the drive, Sir Peter!”

  Without answering him, Peter moved quickly across the room and disappeared into the hall.

  Carola knew that he would receive the Marquis on the steps and if possible he would assure him that everything was in order before he entered the house.

  She waited, saying a last-minute prayer that everything would go smoothly.

  There was the sound of people in the hall and someone laughed, as if at a good joke.

  Then a man came hurrying into the drawing room.

  Carola rose to her feet.

  She realised without being told that this was the Marquis she was supposed to be married to.

  He was not in the least what she had expected.

  Somehow from Peter’s description she was expecting him to look much older, cold, hard, frightening and autocratic.

  Instead, he was young, exceedingly handsome and had an amused expression on his face.

  He crossed the room, took her hand in his and said in a low voice,

  “Thank you a million times for helping me. You look marvellous – absolutely marvellous!”

  Carola drew in her breath. It was not in any way how she had expected to be greeted.

  Then, as several more men came into the room followed by Peter, the Marquis turned round to say,

  “Let me introduce you to my wife who, I am delighted to say, is well enough to be your hostess at The Hall.”