Love, Lies and Marriage Read online

  He produced a small bottle from the bottom of the package and set it down beside the three beautiful objects on the table.

  The Marquis looked at it curiously, but before he could speak Sir Hubert said,

  “Now, Maurice, it’s your turn. What has happened?”

  “I went to White’s Club to avoid Harry who I felt was going to tell me about his intended marriage. When I reached the Club, I found that there was every reason for him to do so.”

  “Why?” Sir Hubert asked.

  “I saw your friend Lord Charles Graham there and he told me what he had said to you at Tattersall’s.”

  “I was going to tell you myself,” Sir Hubert remarked.

  “To make quite sure I was not mistaken,” the Marquis went on, “I promised Graham to call on his actress friend, Rosie, to find out if she had any further information.”

  Seeing the expression on his friend’s face, Sir Hubert knew that Rosie obviously had.

  “What did she say?” he asked when the Marquis was silent.

  “I waited outside in the carriage while Graham went into her flat,” the Marquis replied, “and when he did so, he told me that there had been a rehearsal at the theatre this morning and, when it was over, Camille Clyde had boasted that she intended to be married on either Sunday night or Monday morning.”

  “Did she ask anyone to her wedding?” Sir Hubert asked after a pause.

  The Marquis shook his head.

  “No, she told Graham that it was a secret. She would give a party after the wedding had taken place to which they would all be present to – drink her – health.”

  The Marquis’s voice seemed to crack on the last words.

  Then he asked,

  “For God’s sake, Hubert, tell me what I should do?”

  “I have the answer ready,” Sir Hubert said quietly, “and now you must listen very carefully to what I have planned.”

  *

  “I am very excited!” Teresa said to her father.

  They had set off after luncheon on Friday to drive to Stoke Palace.

  They were alone in Sir Hubert’s new and very smart phaeton, of which he was exceedingly proud.

  The Marquis and Harry were travelling in another phaeton that had left before luncheon.

  “The sooner I get the boy away from London the better!” the Marquis said. “I have asked him to drive my phaeton which, as it is drawn by three horses, will prevent him from thinking of anything else on the way down.”

  Sir Hubert thought this was a good idea. He was also delighted to be alone with his daughter.

  He told her in detail about how much he had contributed to the design of the new phaeton.

  It included the size of the wheels and the lightness of the body.

  “When it is drawn by the right horses,” he said, “I would defy anyone I race in this vehicle to beat me!”

  Teresa laughed.

  “You always win, Papa.”

  “That is what I hope I shall do this weekend,” Sir Hubert said.

  “Doing what?” Teresa enquired.

  “That is what I am going to tell you, my dearest,” Sir Hubert answered, “and I need your help.”

  “You obviously have something up your sleeve,” Teresa said, “and I am sure, Papa, it is something thrilling.”

  “I hope you will think so,” Sir Hubert replied in a somewhat mysterious tone.

  She glanced at him from under her eyelashes, wondering what he was planning.

  She always knew when her father was concentrating on something very special.

  He had a different look about him to that he had at other times and she thought, as she had often thought before, how handsome he was.

  Even the few grey hairs he now had at the sides of his temples added to his looks.

  “Well, first of all,” she said lightly, “let me congratulate you on the phaeton! You must certainly find someone to race us, just so that you can show them that once again you are a winner.”

  Sir Hubert laughed.

  “You will see one more innovation I have not yet shown you,” he said. “There is a special place on each side of the phaeton for pistols.”

  “I suppose, Papa, you are thinking of highwaymen, but I cannot believe that any ‘gentlemen of the road’ would attempt to hold up this smart vehicle.”

  “One never knows,” Sir Hubert replied, “and since the end of the war there are a lot more highwaymen than ever before.”

  “I suppose they are men who have come back to England to find there is no employment for them,” Teresa said in a quiet voice, “and nobody is in the least grateful for the years they spent fighting for England.”

  “I am afraid that is true,” Sir Hubert agreed. “It is an absolute disgrace that the men leaving the Army are dismissed without a pension. Even those who are injured are left to beg from passers-by or starve.”

  “Has nobody made a fuss about this in the Houses of Parliament?” Teresa enquired.

  “A few speeches have been made,” Sir Hubert replied scornfully, “but nobody has paid any attention to them.”

  “I quite see, Papa, that you will have to go into Parliament. If you were there, they would be forced to listen to you.” Sir Hubert smiled.

  “I think, on the whole, I prefer my ships.”

  “And so do I. That brings us back to the question of whether you will allow me to help you in the same way I would be able to do if I had been a boy? I know you always wanted a son.”

  “My darling, I am perfectly happy with my lovely daughter and anyway you can help me in a very different way at the moment,” Sir Hubert answered. “It will be interesting to see if you are clever enough to do exactly as I want you to do.”

  “That is a challenge which I accept with both hands,” Teresa exclaimed. “What is it you want?”

  Sir Hubert was driving without a groom on the seat behind so there was no need for him to lower his voice.

  Instead, in a very firm tone, he said,

  “I want you to save young Harry Lanbourne from making an absolute fool of himself and from making his uncle the most miserable man on earth.”

  “What has the Earl done?” Teresa asked. “I have never met him, strange though it may seem, but he was always held up to me as being an example of everything that was perfect!”

  Her father did not speak, and she went on,

  “When Harry was commended by the Duke of Wellington, you were as excited about it as the Marquis! I remember feeling very envious that being a woman I could not go to war and gain a medal for gallantry.”

  “I never thought of you being jealous of anyone,” Sir Hubert said, “but now that you put it like that, I see it must have been annoying to have Harry described to you as the zenith of everything perfect!”

  “I suppose,” Teresa answered, “it made me more determined than ever to be a success at school, so that you would be proud of me.”

  “Which I have always been, my dearest,” Sir Hubert said quickly.

  They drove on for a little while before Teresa said,

  “So tell me – what has Harry done?”

  “The Marquis is distraught,” Sir Hubert said, “because I learned from one of my friends that Harry intends to marry an actress called Camille Clyde.”

  “I have heard of her! She came to Bath soon after I went to school there. She was playing in Romeo and Juliet. Some of the older girls were taken to see her and they said that she was wonderful!”

  “I believe she is a good actress,” Sir Hubert admitted. “At the same time, as you will understand, it would kill the Marquis if his nephew and heir puts a woman from the stage in place of his mother.”

  “I suppose a lot of people would be shocked,” Teresa agreed, “but if he loves her, it must be very difficult not to ask her to be his wife.”

  Sir Hubert could not at first find the words to answer this.

  Then he said,

  “What a young gentleman like Harry feels for an actress is not the same a
s what he feels for the woman he wishes to marry.”

  Teresa thought about this for a moment. Then she asked,

  “Are you suggesting, Papa, that Camille Clyde is like Nell Gwyn, who was on the stage? King Charles II was very fond of her, but of course he could not marry her.”

  “Yes, that is exactly what I am trying to say,” Sir Hubert said in a tone of relief.

  “But King Charles already had a wife,” Teresa answered, “so that it was impossible for him to marry Nell Gwyn, although he loved her very much.”

  “Even if Charles II had not been married,” Sir Hubert said, “he would not have married Nell Gwyn and it is something Harry cannot do either.”

  “Even though he – loves Camille Clyde?” “Not in any circumstances!” “But, perhaps – if she loves him too, he does not want to – make her very unhappy?” Teresa argued.

  “There are plenty of other men to console her, just as there have been in the past,” Sir Hubert said sharply.

  “Are you saying, Papa, that she has been in love before?” “Quite a number of times,” he replied rather sarcastically.

  Teresa thought this over and then she said,

  “In that case Harry must not marry her, because if she became bored of being a Countess, which at first would be very exciting for her, she might also become bored with Harry and find somebody else to love.”

  Sir Hubert breathed an inward sigh of relief. His daughter, in her own ingenious way, had worked the situation out for herself.

  He was well aware how innocent Teresa was. At the same time he knew she was an avid reader and had won a prize for history.

  He thought she must have some idea of what a mistress meant and she would also realise there was a world of difference between a woman of no importance and a man’s wife, who bore his name.

  Quickly, because he thought it was a mistake to talk too much about this part of Harry’s problem, he said,

  “What I want you to do, my dearest, is to save Harry from marrying Camille Clyde, which the Marquis has been told on excellent authority may happen either on Sunday night or Monday morning.”

  “A secret marriage?” Teresa exclaimed. “I am sure that would be very romantic.”

  “It is something which must not take place!” Sir Hubert thundered. “You know how much Stoke Palace means to the Marquis and how proud he is of his family tree.”

  Teresa nodded and her father went on,

  “Harry is his heir and for him to make a mésalliance would destroy everything the Marquis has worked for and cared about, ever since I have known him.”

  Teresa laid her hand on her father’s knee.

  “I know, Papa, it was entirely due to you that the Marquis was able to make enough money to restore The Palace and also to buy back his house in Berkeley Square.”

  “He is my best friend,” Sir Hubert said, “and you know I am very fond of him. That is why, my dearest, we have to help him.”

  “Of course we must,” Teresa agreed, “so tell me what I have to do.”

  “It is quite simple,” Sir Hubert said. “You have to marry Harry!”

  Teresa turned to stare at him and he added quickly,

  “It will only be a sham wedding, but Harry has to believe it is real.”

  “I don’t understand what you are – saying,” she complained. “How will he want to marry – me, if he is in love with Camille Clyde?”

  “Now, listen very carefully to what I have to tell you,” her father answered, “for if anything goes wrong with the plan, it could be disastrous for the Marquis and we will never be able to forgive ourselves.”

  “I understand that – of course I understand,” Teresa said. “What I cannot see is how what – you suggest is possible.”

  “I have trusted you,” Sir Hubert said, “with my plans for my business, some of which are very secret until they are successful and some of which are extremely difficult to achieve.”

  “I realise that, Papa.” Te

  “The first thing,” her father began as he drove on, “is for you and Harry to try out the horses I have just bought at Tattersall’s, which I understand are the best in the whole country.”

  “I shall certainly enjoy every minute of that!” Teresa smiled.

  “You must realise that a young man of Harry’s age – he is twenty-seven – is not particularly interested in very young girls. I have heard his uncle say that he is bored stiff by debutantes and never speaks to them if he can avoid it.”

  “But you think – I can – interest him?” Teresa asked bluntly.

  “That is entirely up to you,” her father answered. “I have always found you extremely intelligent and the best companion in the world with the exception of your mother. I want you to try and make Harry notice you, enjoy being with you and of course, if it is possible, fall in love with you.”

  To his surprise, Teresa threw back her head and laughed.

  “Oh, really Papa! I think you are asking too much! If Harry intends to be married on Sunday, how could all this happen in two days and two nights?”

  “Stranger things have happened,” Sir Hubert remarked. “All I am asking you to do is to try.”

  “And if, which is extremely unlikely, he finds me – who has only just stopped being a schoolgirl – more attractive than Camille Clyde,” Teresa said, “are you expecting him to go down on one knee and beg me to be his wife?”

  “That is too much to expect,” Sir Hubert conceded, “and so I have arranged with the Marquis that you and Harry will be ‘married’, although of course it will be only a pretence.”

  “I don’t – understand,” Teresa pleaded.

  “I have just received, as you know, some new treasures from the East,” Sir Hubert began.

  “I know and I think they are absolutely wonderful!” Teresa interrupted, “especially the elephant, which you did say, Papa, that I could have it in my sitting room.”

  “You can have it and everything else I have bought,” her father replied, “if you can pull off this coup, which I know will be very difficult, but one of the most rewarding challenges I have ever attempted.”

  “Tell me how it is – possible,” Teresa begged.

  “I received the three treasures, which you have admired, from my Chinese Captain,” Sir Hubert said, “and then I asked him half-jokingly, what drugs he had brought back with him.

  “‘Dangerous question, Excellency, no wish answer,’ he said. ‘I am just interested,’ I replied. ‘Chang-Mai show you something never seen afore,’ he whispered.”

  “What was it?” Teresa asked.

  “He produced a small bottle,” her father replied, “and told me it was something they had just perfected in Peking after a great deal of research.”

  “A drug?” Teresa asked.

  “A very strange one. Apparently when a man takes it, it immediately numbs his brain. He can walk, talk and obey everything that is said to him, but he is not actually thinking because, to put it simply, his brain has been anaesthetised.”

  “I think that sounds extraordinary, but clever.” “That is what I thought,” Sir Hubert agreed. “Chang-Mai called in a boy, gave him a glass of wine to drink into which he put two drops of the special drug.”

  “What happened?” Teresa asked breathlessly.

  “The boy appeared quite normal, but he did not speak unless he was told what to say. Chang-Mai made him say, ‘good morning, sir, very nice day,’ and straight afterwards ‘goodnight, sir, I now go bed.’ He repeated the words in a normal voice, completely unaware of what he was doing.”

  “How extraordinary,” Teresa exclaimed.

  Sir Hubert went on,

  “He then told the boy to sit down in a chair, which he did – to shut his eyes and go to sleep.”

  “And he did that?” Teresa asked.

  “When I left he was asleep, and Chang-Mai assured me that in an hour’s time he would wake up with no idea of what had happened.”

  “I can hardly believe it! It is certainly
extraordinary, Papa! And of course I realise that is what you intend to give to Harry.”

  “It is the only way we can save him,” Sir Hubert replied, “but you must forgive me, my lovely daughter, for involving you in this.”

  “But – what happens – after he wakes up?” Teresa asked slowly.

  “That of course is the difficult part,” Sir Hubert admitted. “We have to tell him that he is married and to you.”

  “But – suppose he – is furious – and very angry with me?”

  “He may be that,” Sir Hubert said, “but knowing Harry, I think he will control his feelings and not be too unpleasant about it.”

  Teresa gave a little shiver.

  “I don’t like – it, Papa, it is dishonest and feels wrong,” she said.

  “But you realise,” her father assured her, “that it is only a question of time before we tell him it was all a hoax. And the wedding, which must take place to make it credible will be performed by an actor playing the part of the Parson.”

  “Oh, I thought you intended to tell Harry at once that he had been – deceived,” Teresa remarked.

  “Now work that out for yourself,” her father replied. “If, on Sunday night, we tell him it was a hoax, there is nothing to stop him from marrying Camille Clyde on Monday morning, which is what she wants. Or for that matter any other day of the week.”

  Teresa looked at her father in astonishment. “Are you really suggesting, Papa, that we keep up this pretence for a long time?”

  “I see no other way that we can prevent Harry from marrying this woman and, with any luck, she will be so annoyed at him throwing her over at the last moment that she will merely transfer her attentions to some other poor fool who is enamoured of her because she is behind the footlights.”

  There was silence until they had gone some way before Sir Hubert added,

  “I am sorry if I have upset you. Perhaps it would be better to try and find somebody else to play the part.”

  Sir Hubert paused and then continued,

  “But trusting a stranger in what is a very personal family secret is always risky and also it would be impossible for a stranger not to talk about what happened.”

  There was no need for Sir Hubert to stress this point.