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  It seemed a long time before the party ended and the Queen and her guests retired to bed.

  The Marquis was installed in the oldest part of Windsor Castle.

  The walls were thick and the passages narrow, where nothing said was likely to be overheard.

  At one o’clock in the morning, as had been arranged with her, he found his way back to the landing and waited for Lady Mentmore.

  He had been there for about five minutes when she appeared.

  She was looking very lovely in a silk negligée trimmed with lace and her long fair hair fell over her shoulders.

  There was no need for words and the Marquis put out his hand to draw her towards him.

  Even as he did so, at that very moment a door opened quite near to them.

  Someone peeped out and the door was closed again quickly.

  Lady Mentmore, who had her back to it, was unaware of what had happened.

  But the Marquis as he guided her towards his room was somewhat perturbed.

  He knew only too well exactly how gossip could sweep through Windsor Castle like a North wind.

  He had no idea who else might be sleeping in that part of The Castle, nor whether it was a man or a woman who had seen him with Lady Mentmore.

  Anyway he told himself philosophically that it was done now.

  To send her back to her bedroom would not at all mend matters and he could only hope that the person who had peeped out was of no consequence.

  Lady Mentmore had more than exceeded his expectations he was delighted to recall.

  But the Marquis had thought after that visit that the Queen was slightly stiffer than she had been previously.

  There was a disapproving look in her eyes that had not been there before.

  Now he understood that he was being punished for what had been a brief but pleasant interlude in a dull visit.

  He had not been to Windsor Castle again.

  So he had not come into contact with Lady Mentmore since she had left him in the early hours of the morning.

  “I cannot understand, Denzil,” the Lord Chamberlain was saying, “what you might have done to incur the Queen’s displeasure, but, as you know only too well, nothing will stop women from gossiping.”

  That was indeed true.

  The Marquis, however, was very well aware that, quite apart from Lady Mentmore, his reputation was not one to commend itself in any way to the Queen.

  It was certainly no worse than that of her son, but Her Majesty was known to disapprove of everything that the Prince of Wales did.

  “Does this mean that I shall have to be married before I can be appointed?” he now asked Lord Latham.

  “Or engaged,” the Lord Chamberlain said, “but I think I should warn you that Her Majesty will not leave the position vacant for very long.”

  “What do you mean by very long?” the Marquis enquired.

  “Shall we say two months?” the Lord Chamberlain replied. “That will take you to approximately the middle of June.”

  He saw the dismay on the Marquis’s face and added,

  “I am sorry, Denzil. I know that this is a blow to you. At the same time you have to marry sooner or later. Your father made the mistake of having only two children and, if you would take my advice, you will fill what I am sure are the very large nurseries at Rock Park with a number of them.”

  The Marquis rose to his feet.

  “I loathe the idea of marriage,” he said angrily. “I know that any young unfledged girl, who would have the approval of Her Majesty the Queen, would bore me to distraction!”

  He walked across to the window as he spoke.

  There was an expression of considerable compassion in the Lord Chamberlain’s eyes as he watched him,

  He had been young and dashing himself and he had enjoyed the favours of a number of women before he married so he knew exactly what the Marquis was feeling.

  “The Season has just started,” he said aloud. “There will be many pretty girls coming to London. Some of them have already arrived. If you attend the first drawing room, you will be able to take your pick.”

  “I would much rather choose a horse at Tattersalls or in the Spring Sales,” the Marquis snapped. “At least I would not have to be totally encumbered with it for the rest of my life!”

  The Lord Chamberlain sighed and declared,

  “You could, of course, refuse the position as your father did.”

  “What excuse could I make?” the Marquis enquired. “At least my father was a sick man. Even so there was a huge outcry amongst the family.”

  He walked across the room before he went on,

  “I myself have no such excuse, except that I have no wish to be leg-shackled or forced to choose a wife who the Queen would approve of.”

  “She will, of course, be by tradition a Lady-of-the-Bedchamber,” the Lord Chamberlain remarked.

  “That is exactly what I mean,” the Marquis replied savagely. “The Queen’s choice of a Lady-of-the-Bedchamber is just not someone I am likely to find very exciting in the long winter evenings!”

  “Come on now, Denzil, it is not at all as bad as that,” the Lord Chamberlain said. “After all young girls, however gauche they may seem when they first appear as debutantes, do eventually become the polished, sophisticated exotic women you have been spending your time with ever since I can remember.”

  “But I have not had to marry any of them!” the Marquis pointed out.

  As he spoke, he thought that, if he was married, he would very much dislike knowing that his wife was having an affaire de coeur with somebody like himself.

  It was something that had never entered his mind until now. He had always assumed that his wife would take the place of his mother as the charming and delightful chatelaine of Rock Park.

  She would adore him as his mother had adored his father to the exclusion of any other man.

  He walked back from the window, knowing full well that the Lord Chamberlain was awaiting his decision, and no doubt hoping that he would not take too long about it.

  Outside the sun was shining and the Marquis suddenly felt that he must go to the country. Maybe at Rock Park he would be able to think the problem over without being so angry and resentful.

  For the moment he felt as if he was being encased between walls and they were gradually closing in on him and becoming a prison.

  “You say I have two months,” he now said aloud. “Very well, my Lord, you shall have my decision as soon as it is possible to give it to you with, I would suppose, the name of the woman I shall marry.”

  He spoke bitterly and the Lord Chamberlain said in a quiet voice,

  “That, I am afraid, is what Her Majesty will expect.”

  “I am only surprised,” the Marquis replied scathingly, “that she does not choose my wife for me and leave me nothing to do except put the ring on her finger!”

  “I am sorry, Denzil, very sorry and, if I could have prevented this from happening, I would have for I knew how much it would upset you.”

  “It is most certainly not your fault,” the Marquis said, “but I have always believed it is a mistake to have a woman on the Throne rather than a man!”

  Because he could not help himself, the Earl laughed.

  “Quite a number of people have no doubt thought that at one time or another and yet you have to admit that the Queen has made Great Britain the most powerful country in the world.”

  He paused a moment and then continued,

  “You have only to look at your map to know that every day the areas coloured red to signify British rule increase and multiply!”

  “I know, I do know,” the Marquis said testily, “but when one is affected personally it becomes hard to flagwave with any enthusiasm.”

  Lord Chamberlain rose and came round from behind his desk.

  “Cheer up,” he urged. “It may not be as bad as you anticipate. I suppose it is too early to offer you a drink?”

  “To drown my sorrows or to celebrate?�
� the Marquis enquired. “Thank you, but it is too early for either.”

  He put out his hand.

  “Thank you, my Lord, for breaking it all to me as kindly as you could. I now have two months, nine weeks, sixty-one days of freedom left. What is more I have to spend them looking for the bait that will have me caught, hook, line and sinker for the rest of my life!”

  The Lord Chamberlain laughed again.

  “Whatever else you have not lost your sense of humour,” he said. “If there is anything I can do to help you, please let me know.”

  “You have already done more than enough to help,” the Marquis answered.

  The Lord Chamberlain was not certain whether the Marquis was being sarcastic or grateful.

  The Marquis picked up his top hat, which he had placed on a chair when he had first entered the room.

  “Two months!” he muttered as if to remind himself.

  Then he went from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  The Lord Chamberlain sighed and sat down again at his desk. He knew that what he had told the Marquis had been a body blow to him.

  He had admired, as everyone else did, his many achievements and above all his success with horseflesh.

  However envious and jealous any man might be, he never denied that the Marquis rode magnificently.

  The horses that were trained under him had all done well in many races including the Classics like the Gold Cup.

  He could produce the finest horses to be seen on the Racecourse or in the hunting field.

  It would be impossible, the Lord Chamberlain knew, to appoint anyone else as the Master of the Horse, who could be in any way the Marquis’s equal.

  He did know, however, that whatever his opinion might be on the matter, it would be impossible to change the Queen’s mind.

  He had daringly remonstrated with her already when she had told him the condition for the appointment.

  “But the Marquis of Rockingdale, ma’am, is only twenty-eight,” he had argued, “and many men settle down much later than that.”

  “I am well aware of that, Lord Chamberlain,” the Queen replied sharply, “but the Marquis needs the steadying influence of a wife and that is something that he most certainly lacks at the moment.”

  The Lord Chamberlain had no idea what could have happened or why Her Majesty had taken up this attitude.

  He just knew that it would be purposeless for him to try to discuss the matter further.

  He therefore bowed himself gracefully out of the room wishing that somebody else had to break the disturbing news to the Marquis.

  *

  As the Marquis drove away from St. James’s Palace, he could feel his fury rising within him.

  How dare the Queen interfere in his private life!

  How dare she insist upon his being married when he had no desire to make any woman his wife?

  Of course, as the Lord Chamberlain had told him, he could refuse the position. To do so, however, would inevitably cause a great deal of negative comment.

  Everybody would speculate as to what he had done to upset the Queen.

  His whole family would take it as an insult to them personally.

  Too late, as many a man had done before him, he wished that he could turn back the clock.

  He greatly wished that he had not tried to alleviate the boredom of Windsor Castle by pursuing the pretty Lady Mentmore.

  But what was done was done and now there was really no choice for him to make.

  He had to find himself a wife and he had two months to do it in.

  As he drove up St. James’s Street, he was staring straight ahead of him, ignoring the raised hands of several of his friends.

  He ignored too the inviting smile of a lady he passed in her open carriage.

  He next drove down Piccadilly feeling oblivious of everything but his own dark thoughts.

  When he reached Rock House in Park Lane, he decided that he must have time to think.

  He realised only too well when he went into his study that there would be the usual pile of invitations lying on his desk.

  As a rule he accepted only two or three of these and his secretary refused the rest.

  Now he told himself savagely that, if he was to meet the type of lady who the Queen would approve of, he must attend the fashionable balls held practically every night in the London Season.

  There waiting for him would be a bevy of debutantes.

  At the parties he usually attended there were no ambitious Mamas speculating as to which partner their darling daughters danced with would make them suitable husbands.

  They would be determining which of them was the most eligible with the best and most prestigious title.

  Alternatively sufficient wealth, possessions and stately houses to keep their daughters in the manner that they were accustomed to.

  No, the parties he went to were strictly for married women.

  The Marquis could never remember having met a debutante.

  Occasionally he had seen some of them sitting meekly beside their chaperones.

  They would be eyeing every man who came near them, hoping that he would ask them to dance.

  ‘They will be heavy on their feet and quite incapable of saying one intelligent word!’ the Marquis thought to himself savagely.

  He then picked up the gold bell that stood on his desk and rang it furiously.

  When a footman opened the door, he ordered sharply,

  “Send Mr. Benson to me!”

  When his secretary, whom he had engaged when he succeeded on his father’s death, came hurrying in he said,

  “I am going to the country, Benson. Cancel all my invitations for the next few days and inform anybody who enquires that I have had to leave London on urgent family business.”

  That was the light word for it he thought angrily.

  ‘Family business’ that involved taking on a wife and eventually a family he did not want.

  After a hasty luncheon, when he found it very difficult to swallow anything, despite the fact that his chef had prepared some of his most favourite dishes, he left Rock House.

  As he climbed into his travelling chariot, the servants looked at him apprehensively.

  His grooms exchanged glances as he drove his team faster than he habitually did, yet still with the expertise that he became famous for.

  He actually reached Rock Park in record time.

  For the very first time since he had inherited, he felt no thrill of excitement as he went up the drive.

  Nor did the beauty of the great building stir his heart as it usually did.

  The reason why the Marquis had spent so much time in London after growing up was not entirely because of all the attractive women who abounded there.

  It was also because he found it just more and more impossible to accept the way that his father’s estate was being managed.

  He had served two years in the Household Cavalry after leaving Cambridge University.

  He had then thought that his father would want him to take over the running of the estate and he had hoped that he would be allowed to introduce many innovations and new methods of agriculture.

  He considered that these were essential improvements to be made and long overdue.

  Unfortunately, however, the Marquis’s father had no intention of allowing what he called ‘new-fangled ideas’ to change in any way his life at Rock Park.

  His son had tried to persuade him that the stables were old and in need of repair.

  It would be better to demolish them and build new ones with the latest system of ventilation and other modernisation.

  His father had been horrified at the idea.

  “They were good enough for my father and indeed for his father before him,” he insisted, “and they are good enough for me.”

  It was the same objection he had made to every one of his son’s suggestions.

  Finally he became so frustrated that he went back to London.

  He soon
found that when not in London he could spend time very pleasantly in Leicestershire.

  He owned there a comfortable Hunting Lodge where there was plenty of room for his friends.

  There was a very charming house in Newmarket as well where he could supervise his racehorses. His father had made those over to him when he was twenty-one.

  Each time he visited Rock Park it annoyed him more and more that it was so behind the times.

  He could not understand why his father not only tolerated all these deficiencies but clung to them.

  For the two years since he had inherited he had been exclusively occupied in putting into operation all the innovations that he had been longing to make.

  So he had had no time for social contacts with his neighbours nor was he in any way concerned with what was happening in the County.

  He was instead intent upon installing electric light in the house.

  He was building new stables and organising a much better system of farming the land that was not let out to tenants but managed by the owner of Rock Park.

  He pensioned off the farmer who had obeyed without questioning everything that the Marquis’s father had told him to do.

  This had amounted to two words, ‘no change’.

  He replaced him with a young man who believed in fertilisers and the rotation of crops and who was prepared to experiment freely with livestock.

  The Marquis was interested in bringing in new breeds of sheep and he bred better cattle than there had ever been on his father’s land.

  It all took time and it meant building new cottages for the old employees he had retired and for the new workers he took on.

  The Marquis enjoyed every minute of it and few people outside the estate had any idea of what he was doing.

  For he had no intention of acknowledging that his father had made many costly mistakes.

  In that particular part of the country the Marquis was very like a Sovereign in his own right. In point of fact Rock Park was a State within a State.

  Over two thousand people were paid on Fridays for their work in the various departments of the estate, some old and some new.

  The stonemasons, the bricklayers, the painters and carpenters had always been on the estate, but their numbers had gradually dwindled. Now each one of these departments was seething with young people.