Love and the Marquis Read online

  At the same time, going from great house to great house, William Gladwin had an inside knowledge of Society that few people who did not belong to it were in a position to acquire.

  It made him cynical of the dashing young aristocrats who left their great ancestral homes in the country for months so that they could gamble in the Clubs and gaming halls in London, throwing away money which could be better spent on building houses for their pensioners or improving their farms.

  ‘She is too good for one of that sort,’ William Gladwin thought to himself as he looked at Imeldra.

  Aloud he said,

  “His Lordship’s away from home at the moment and therefore if I tell the housekeeper that my granddaughter has come to stay with me, I don’t think she’ll be particularly interested one way or the other.”

  “That is good,” Imeldra smiled. “Thank you, thank you, dear Mr. Gladwin – or rather ‘Grandpapa’, as I shall call you now, for having me. It has made me very happy.”

  “That is what I have always wanted you to be,” Mr. Gladwin said in a low voice. “I often thought you were at times a very sad little girl without your mother.”

  The way he spoke unexpectedly brought the tears to Imeldra’s eyes and she replied,

  “Only you could understand that, although I adore Papa and have always been happy with him, I can never forget Mama and sometimes I feel she is near me.”

  “I am sure she is,” Mr. Gladwin nodded.

  As he spoke, he rose to open the door and say in a more practical tone,

  “I’ll go and find the housekeeper and I expect you’ll want to tell your coachman that you are staying.”

  “Yes, of course,” Imeldra answered, “but I doubt if I can find my way back to the door that I came in through.”

  Mr. Gladwin raised his eyebrows as she explained,

  “I thought it was correct to use the side door and I had no wish to encounter the Marquis before you had agreed to have me.”

  “That was sensible,” Mr. Gladwin approved. “At the same time, as I have already said, his Lordship’s away from home.”

  “Has he a wife?” Imeldra asked as they stepped out of the hut into a mess of bricks and stonework.

  Mr. Gladwin did not answer, which she thought a little strange until she understood that it would be a mistake to talk intimately while there were workmen about.

  Imeldra then sent her carriage home with a note she had hastily scribbled to Mr. Dutton saying that a friend of hers was staying at Marizon and she was going to stay there with her for two or three days before continuing her journey to her grandmother.

  She made no more explanations, feeling that what she did was not any business of Mr. Dutton’s. But just in case he should try to communicate with her at her grandmother’s, she thought it wise to let him know where she actually was.

  She gave the note to Baker herself, telling him to leave as soon as her luggage had been carried into the house and once again impressing on him in a low voice not to let anybody at Marizon know her real name.

  She knew the old coachman was somewhat bewildered by her insistence, but he would obey her. He was too good a servant and also too used to her father to query any orders he was given.

  As the luggage was carried into the house, Imeldra felt with a little feeling of excitement that this was an adventure.

  It had been a desperate action to avoid staying with her grandmother, but now that she was actually in Marizon and realised how much there was to see in the great house, she felt that she was starting a journey into the unknown.

  Mr. Gladwin had been allotted a quite pleasant bedroom and a sitting room in the East wing and the housekeeper arranged that Imeldra should have the bedroom next to it.

  It was a pretty room and yet Imeldra was aware that it would not compare in any way with the grandeur she expected to find in the State bedrooms.

  But it was very comfortable, the windows overlooked the lake at the front of the house and one of the housemaids was told to unpack for her.

  She was a bright, cheerful looking country girl who Imeldra guessed had not long come to work at the Big House and was thrilled to be allotted a young lady to look after on her own.

  “I ’opes as I pleases you, miss.”

  “I am sure you will, Betsy,” Imeldra answered and told her exactly how she liked her clothes arranged.

  As her father had always given her a most generous allowance, her clothes at the school were extremely expensive and beautifully made and she had been the envy and admiration of all the other girls of her age.

  Her travels in her father’s company had developed not only her intelligence but also her good taste.

  Imeldra knew both what were the correct clothes to wear and also that they should be a frame for the person who wore them and be compatible with her personality.

  Now she thought it was a good thing that her gowns were fairly simple and therefore not too elaborate or showy for the part she was to play as William Gladwin’s granddaughter.

  She changed from the gown she had travelled in into one of white silk with large sleeves and a full skirt that accentuated her tiny waist.

  When she went downstairs to find her supposed grandfather, she was aware that, when she passed through the hall, the footmen looked at her in admiration. One of them even gave her a cheeky smile, which he would not have done had he been aware of her real rank.

  She found that William Gladwin was still busy with his workmen and, after listening to him giving instructions for a little while, she went back into the house.

  She moved slowly down the corridors stopping to look at every picture and then at the furniture, knowing that everything was a sheer delight.

  It was not surprising, she thought, that Marizon had always been spoken of almost with bated breath by her father’s friends in the past.

  She enjoyed herself so much that she was quite surprised when William Gladwin joined her to say that his work for the day was done and he was now free to go to his sitting room.

  After enjoying a good tea, Imeldra settled down on a comfortable sofa and then saying,

  “Now tell me everything you have been doing since we last met.”

  William Gladwin told her of how he had made some improvements to the orangery at Hanbury Hall at Droitwich and then, as if this was her real interest for the moment, Imeldra said,

  “Now tell me what you think about this house and, of course, its owner.”

  “Have you ever met the Marquis?” Mr. Gladwin asked.

  Imeldra shook her head.

  “I think it would be a mistake for you to do so.”

  “Why do you say that?” she enquired. “Tell me the truth, Mr. Gladwin. Has he a raffish reputation like Papa? As you must be aware, that would not shock me.”

  Mr. Gladwin smiled as if at her frankness.

  Then he said,

  “The Marquis is a very unusual man and certainly different from what I expected when he asked me to design his orangery.”

  “In what way?”

  “He is extremely intelligent and, I suppose from a lady’s point of view, very attractive.”

  “Then what is wrong with him?”

  “There’s nothing wrong, Lady Imeldra,” Mr. Gladwin said quickly. “It is just that there’s something that I don’t understand.”

  Imeldra was wide-eyed with curiosity.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I don’t exactly know,” Mr. Gladwin answered. “But I suppose from years of working in houses like this I have come to sense the atmosphere, so to speak.”

  “And what is the atmosphere at Marizon?”

  “I wish I could put it into words not only to you but to myself.”

  “Then what do you feel?”

  “I feel there is something wrong and something unnatural.”

  Imeldra looked alight with interest as she asked,

  “Do you mean ghosts? Or is the Marquis being threatened by highwaymen? Perhaps a wicked Heir Pr
esumptive as he is not married?”

  “I doubt if it’s any of those things,” Mr. Gladwin answered, “and I cannot understand why I am telling you this at all, except perhaps it is a relief to talk to somebody about it.”

  “I want you to talk to me,” Imeldra said. “Tell me exactly what you feel.”

  “I wish I knew,” William Gladwin said unhappily. “There is a reserve about the Marquis although there is no reason why he should not be reserved with me.

  I have the feeling that when I am with him he’s not exactly afraid of something but at the same time on guard, if not slightly apprehensive. No! Words are inadequate. I cannot explain what it is.”

  “I find what you are telling me fascinating,” Imeldra answered. “I do wish that Papa was with us. He would love a puzzle of this sort.”

  As she spoke, she thought perhaps her father would not be so interested in the problems and difficulties of a man as he would be in those of a woman and this puzzle was something that she must solve for herself.

  An intrigue was the last thing she had expected.

  She knew William Gladwin well enough to know that he would not have spoken of it if it had not been troubling him and it was therefore a definite problem.

  He talked and Imeldra learned a little more about the Marquis until it was time to change for dinner.

  Her maid, whose name she had discovered was Betsy, brought her a bath and she put on another pretty but simple gown.

  Then she and William Gladwin dined, not in his sitting room but in another room also in the East wing, which was furnished as a small dining room.

  They were waited on by two footmen and the food, Imeldra was glad to find, was really delicious. There was also a claret, which Mr. Gladwin enjoyed, although Imeldra preferred lemonade.

  When finally they both retired to bed, Imeldra felt that she had spent a delightful evening and tomorrow she would start to explore the house.

  Perhaps in her explorings she would find an answer to what was upsetting the Marquis to the point where his discomfort was obvious to the man who was building his orangery.

  *

  The morning dawned full of sunshine and it was warm enough for Imeldra to walk in the garden without a shawl.

  She entered it correctly by way of the orangery and then moved away across the lawns past the flowerbeds, appreciating as she compared it with Kingsclere and how charmingly this garden was laid out and how well the gardeners had done their work.

  ‘The Marquis is obviously very particular,’ she told herself, ‘and just like Papa aims for perfection.’

  It was another point on the credit side of his character that Imeldra felt she must assess in detail before she could begin to discover what Mr. Gladwin knew instinctively was wrong.

  Last night after dinner she had said to him,

  “I am very intrigued with what you have told me about the Marquis.”

  “I think perhaps it is something I should not have said,” Mr. Gladwin replied ruefully, “but I console myself by thinking you will not be here for long, so it is doubtful if you will ever meet his Lordship.”

  “Can you imagine how frustrating it will be to have to leave here wondering what is still undiscovered and puzzling about his manner for the rest of my life?”

  William Gladwin laughed.

  “That is the last thing you will do! Once you are in London with Her Grace you will be a huge success. They will toast you in all the Clubs and you will receive many compliments. There will be other gentlemen for you to think about instead of Marizon and its Marquis.”

  The way he spoke told Imeldra better than words that he was deeply regretting having been confidential in the first place.

  Because she thought that it would be a mistake for him to worry about her, she replied casually,

  “I am sure you are right and that, once I leave here and cease to be your granddaughter, I suppose the barriers between our estates will go up again and I shall be on one side of them and his Lordship on the other.”

  She saw an expression of relief in Mr. Gladwin’s eyes, which made her keener than ever to find out what had upset him in the first place or rather what was wrong with the Marquis.

  The green lawns ended in a Water Garden out of which led a Herb Garden and beyond that a shrubbery, which Imeldra was aware would be very beautiful once the rhododendrons came into bloom.

  By the time she had finished exploring the garden, it was time for luncheon and because Mr. Gladwin could not spare much time from his work, this was brought to the little wooden hut.

  Imeldra enjoyed picnicking there although it was a very light meal. As soon as William Gladwin had hurried back to see what his workmen were doing, she decided that she would now have a more thorough look inside the house.

  The sunshine of the morning was now overcast with clouds and it was not as warm as it had been.

  She therefore thought it was a practical idea to inspect the State rooms and in particular the Picture Gallery that she had heard so much about.

  It was rather exciting to think that, because its owner was away, she could have the huge house all to herself apart from the servants.

  She thought they were very likely relaxing when their Master was not in residence and she was sure of this when she noticed that there was only one footman on duty in the hall and he was reading a newspaper.

  She went into the library to find, as she had anticipated, that it was magnificent.

  She remembered reading that the Marizon library included a first folio of Shakespeare’s plays and a copy of the Gutenberg Bible.

  There was a catalogue lying on one of the tables, but for the moment she wished to see the pictures rather than linger among the books.

  So telling herself that the library was a place she would return to, she went from there into the salon.

  This was a large, very impressive room hung with huge crystal chandeliers and the walls were covered, which she had not expected, with white green-veined marble that was really lovely.

  There were some magnificent pictures by Reynolds, which were well in keeping with its grandeur and Imeldra looked at them for a long time before she left the salon to walk towards where she guessed the Picture Gallery would be.

  She was not wrong and found the Long Gallery running half the length of the centre part of the house, filled with pictures that at first glance made her gasp.

  There were Van Dycks, Rembrandts, Rubenses, Poussins haphazardly hung it seemed to her surprise according to no particular scheme of arrangement, although each one in its own way was superb that it was difficult when she was looking at it to think of anything but that particular picture.

  Then halfway down the long wall, which faced the high windows framed in embroidered brocade each with a draped pelmet surmounted with gold carvings, she stopped in front of a picture that for a moment puzzled her.

  Then as she was staring at it she heard footsteps from behind her and knew that William Gladwin had joined her.

  She had told him where she would be and hoped that he would find the time to leave his workmen so that they could enjoy the treasures of the house together.

  “I am very glad you have come,” she said without turning round. “Can you imagine that anyone with any artistic perception could allow this obvious fake to be hung here amongst all these masterpieces? The Marquis must be a fool or blind!”

  The footsteps had stopped behind her and a voice that she did not know remarked dryly,

  “I can assure you that I am neither of those things.”

  Imeldra turned round sharply.

  Standing a few feet from her was not William Gladwin, as she had supposed, but a tall broad-shouldered man.

  He was exquisitely dressed with a white cravat intricately tied, his champagne-coloured pantaloons ending in Hessian boots so polished that they reflected his surroundings.

  For the moment she was not concerned with his clothes but with his face and she thought that while he was distinguished and g
ood-looking, though not handsome in the same way that her father was, he had an unmistakable expression of cynicism and bitterness that was quite remarkable.

  What was more his eyes were extremely hard and he was staring at her in a way that was penetrating and at the same time almost insulting.

  For a moment they just looked at each other.

  Then the newcomer said,

  “Who are you? And what are you doing in my Gallery without my permission?”

  Quite unabashed Imeldra dropped him a respectful curtsey before she replied,

  “Forgive me if I am intruding, but I understood that your Lordship was not in residence.”

  “I have returned unexpectedly, but I see no reason why that should entitle you not only to be here but to criticise my pictures.”

  There was a faint smile on Imeldra’s lips as she responded,

  “Now I have seen your Lordship I am sure that you are as well aware as I am that I was not being impertinent or ignorant in referring to the picture behind me as being a fake that should not have been hung here.”

  “We are not discussing my pictures,” the Marquis answered coldly, “but you, and you have not replied to my question.”

  “As to my identity? I came here unexpectedly to visit my grandfather, William Gladwin. He was certain that your Lordship would not refuse to allow me stay to with him for a night or two.”

  “You are William Gladwin’s granddaughter?” the Marquis asked.

  He spoke in a way that told Imeldra he could hardly believe it to be true and she replied quickly,

  “My name is Imeldra Gladwin and may I, now that you are here, your Lordship, thank you for your hospitality and hope that I do not intrude.”

  “No, of course, not,” the Marquis said as if there was nothing else he could say. “At the same time, Miss Gladwin, I hope you will retract your assertion that I am a fool.”

  “I thought I had already done so, my Lord.”

  There was a faint twitch to the Marquis’s lips as he said,

  “You speak as if you are knowledgeable about pictures, which is surprising seeing how young you appear to be.”

  “Knowledge does not always come with age, my Lord, but with intuition, which cannot be taught but can only be inborn.”