Fascination in France Page 6

  The Duc was aware that, before they set off, Celita had caressed and talked to the stallion she was now mounted on.

  He had led the way and, watching him, Celita thought that he looked a part of his horse.

  It would be impossible for anyone to look more handsome or more at home on that particular thoroughbred.

  When they let the horses have their heads, it became a race.

  Although Celita surged ahead, she was well aware that the Duc could overtake her when he wished to do so.

  Only, when they pulled in their horses and she turned to smile at the other riders, did he say,

  “I congratulate both ladies. I can only say that my horses are honoured by their presence.”

  “That is a very pretty speech,” Celita said. “Now I want to know where you have your jumps.”

  For a moment the Duc seemed to hesitate, as if he thought that they would be too much for her.

  Then he said,

  “I will take you to my private Racecourse. I completed it only two years ago. It has been a great success, so I hope you will admire it.”

  He went ahead through a small wood and there beyond it was the Racecourse.

  Celita could see that it was beautifully laid out and she appreciated that there were stands for the public and that everything was provided as if they were at Newmarket or Ascot.

  “Now I know,” she exclaimed, “why your horses win in England.”

  “I admit that I have copied an English Racecourse,” the Duc smiled, “because they are the best I have ever seen.”

  Celita smiled.

  “I know that Lord Waterforde would be delighted to hear you say that.”

  “He has won so many races in England,” the Duc said, “that now he is determined to lead the way in Europe. But I think that over here my horses are better than his.”

  There was a note of satisfaction in the Duc’s voice that Celita did not miss.

  She was sure that he was thinking how easy it would be to improve his own horses with Judy’s money.

  It certainly seemed impossible to think that the Duc might be hard up.

  This morning, when she was dressing and Martha was helping her, Celita enquired,

  “Is everything as luxurious below stairs as it is above, Martha?”

  “It is indeed, my Lady,” Martha replied, “but they say that Monsieur’s going through a hard time. I cannot think why, there be no signs of it here.”

  It was quite obvious that Martha approved of the château and Celita thought that here was someone who would be encouraging Judy to marry the Duc.

  It would make her more depressed than she was already.

  Looking at the Duc now on a horse that must be worth an enormous sum of money with hundreds of acres of his own land all round him and his fantastic château in the distance, it was ridiculous to think that he could in any way be hard-up.

  ‘Then why does he want the money,’ she asked, ‘unless it’s just greed?’

  They went over the jumps, rather carefully at first because they were higher than Celita had expected.

  But her horse leapt them with inches to spare and Judy’s did the same.

  It was then that the Vicomte suggested that they should have a race, adding,

  “But, of course, the ladies shall have a start.”

  Everyone thought that this was a good idea and as they took their places the Vicomte said mischievously,

  “I hope the prize is worth winning.”

  “Is there one?” Judy asked innocently.

  “There will be if I have anything to do with it,” the Vicomte replied.

  For a moment there was silence and then the Duc exclaimed,

  “All right, I have got the message! There will be a prize and I only hope that the best horse wins it.”

  The two girls were given quite a long start and, when the race began, Celita thought that it would be easy to win.

  But she was by now aware of what a brilliant horseman the Duc was.

  Although she tried her very hardest to pass the winning post first, he beat her by a head.

  She knew it was what he deserved and, as they pulled in their horses, she said,

  “I might have guessed that you would defeat me at the last moment.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “It would be a mistake to make you more conceited than you are already,” Celita answered provocatively, “so I shall not answer that question.”

  The Duc’s eyes were twinkling.

  “You are very frank, Lady Celita,” he said. “That is something I don’t expect in an English debutante.”

  “I must try to play my part more in character,” Celita said. “And thank you for one of the most exciting races I have ever taken part in.”

  The Vicomte was saying the same to Judy as they rode back towards the château.

  As they were ahead, Celita pulled back her horse so that she and the Duc were out of earshot.

  With an effort, because she was rather nervous, she said,

  “I want to have a private conversation with you, monsieur, when you can spare the time.”

  The Duc raised his eyebrows, but he replied,

  “Yes, of course. If you would come to my study after breakfast, I shall be signing my letters and we will not be disturbed.”

  “Thank you, monsieur.”

  She rode on quickly, fearing that he might ask her what she wanted to speak to him about.

  He made no effort to catch up and, when they left the horses at the front door and went into breakfast, he made no reference to what she had said.

  Lady Hilton did not appear at breakfast, which was a relief.

  Celita had thought last night that it would have been much more enjoyable if she had not been present. She had tried to impress herself on the Duc and kept interrupting any more serious conversation with rather stupid remarks.

  Breakfast was quite a large meal because at least the gentlemen were hungry.

  It was in a different room from where they had dined last night. The walls were panelled and hung with some delightful portraits of the Duc’s ancestors.

  They made Celita remember that she had not yet seen the picture gallery.

  She thought that there was so much to see and do outside the château that she must be careful not to miss anything inside before she left.

  The Vicomte was teasing Judy who was laughing.

  Celita thought that the house party was very different from what she had expected and certainly far easier.

  She had thought that the French were usually very stiff if they were of any importance.

  But there was certainly nothing stiff about the Duc, especially when he was talking about his horses and the other things he wanted to show them in the grounds of the château.

  “I have a private gorge of my own,” he said, “which I think is quite impressive. The cascade itself is really beautiful. It’s a pity, Lady Celita, that you are not an artist! A great number have come here and tried to put it on canvas. In my opinion they have always failed.”

  “I must see it,” Celita said, “and I have heard of the enormous gorges in the Grand Canyon of Provence.”

  “They are not far from here,” the Duc replied, “so, if you stay long enough, we will drive over and you shall see what it means to drop a thousand feet from the roadway into the gorge below.”

  Judy gave a little cry.

  “I am sure I should have vertigo,” she said. “If it’s a question of looking down a thousand feet, I shall be far too frightened to do so.”

  “I shall not let you fall,” the Vicomte offered gallantly.

  Judy smiled at him.

  She certainly seemed less depressed than she had been on their arrival, but Celita knew that she was making every effort to avoid being close to the Duc.

  When he did approach her, even accidentally, there was a touch of fear in her eyes.

  ‘The sooner I talk to him about it the better,’ Celita told
herself as they finished breakfast.

  The Duc left first saying to the Vicomte as he did so,

  “Look after our guests, Gustav. I shall be at least an hour with my letters and the people I have to see. When I have finished, I will join you in the music room.”

  Celita had already seen the music room, which was at the other end of the château, looking out over the garden.

  It was where, she had learnt, the guests often danced.

  The walls were exquisitely painted with strange musical instruments while the ceiling was a riot of cupids blowing trumpets and clashing cymbals. It was hard to think that such beautiful work had survived the Revolution.

  The Duc admitted that it had taken a long time to restore it to its original perfection.

  They walked from the breakfast room now, not hurrying because there were so many objects to look at on the way.

  The Vicomte pointed out some very fine pictures of horses and also furniture, which, he told them had been stolen from the château.

  The Duc had found a particularly fine painting in the attic of one house in an obscure village, and brought it back in triumph.

  “It must be fun for him trying to find everything that once belonged here,” Celita remarked.

  “He has enjoyed it,” the Vicomte replied, “but it’s a very costly business, as any people who now possess what belonged to the château are well aware of how much he wants to own it all again.”

  ‘So we are back to money,’ Celita thought to herself.

  She was now quite sure that the Duc would not give up the idea of marrying Judy easily.

  She waited nearly half-an-hour before she slipped away without making any explanation.

  She hurried from the music room back down the passage to where the Duc’s study was situated.

  The door was closed and she opened it tentatively.

  She thought that, if she heard him speaking to anyone, she could go away and come back later.

  However, there was silence and, as she entered the study, she saw the Duc seated at a large and impressive desk.

  He rose as she entered and said,

  “I was expecting you to join me, Lady Celita.”

  He came from behind the desk and walked to the fireplace.

  Celita followed him and sat down a little nervously on the sofa.

  She was wondering desperately how she should begin and, after a somewhat uncomfortable silence, the Duc said,

  “You wanted to see me? Now I am listening.”

  “What I have to say to you,” Celita said, “may make you angry and therefore I am rather frightened.”

  “Of me?” the Duc asked. “I assure you there is no need for that. So just tell me what is worrying you.”

  Celita looked round the room.

  “Since I have been here,” she said. “I have realised that everything is perfect and my maid tells me that you are known as ‘Monsieur Parfait’.”

  The Duc laughed.

  “That is true. And needless to say the newspapers have gibed at me a great deal for having acquired such a nickname.”

  “As it’s true, it is certainly nothing to be ashamed of,” Celita said. “But I cannot understand why, when you have set out always to have around you everything that is perfect, you are prepared to accept second best in one matter of the greatest importance.”

  The Duc stared at her.

  “I cannot understand what you are saying.”

  Celita drew in her breath.

  “Just before Judy and I left Paris,” she said, “she received a letter from her father saying that, instead of returning to England, as he had planned we should do, we were to come here.”

  “I understood,” the Duc said, “that Lord Waterforde had arranged this with his daughter, but I did not realise that he had left it until the last moment.”

  “It was a great shock to Judy,” Celita said, “because her father intimated that you might – while she – was staying here – propose – to her.”

  Celita had great difficulty in saying the last words, but she forced them from her lips.

  She did not look at the Duc.

  She was aware, however, that he had risen from the chair where he had sat down beside the sofa and he was now standing with his back to the mantelpiece.

  Without looking at him she was sure that he was frowning and she felt vibrations coming from him that were somewhat hostile.

  “I am sorry to say this to you,” she said quickly, “and please don’t be angry with me. But, as a perfectionist, you must realise that this is not the way any woman would want to receive a proposal of marriage.”

  “I did not know,” the Duc said after a moment, “that Lord Waterford would reveal to his daughter what had been a confidential conversation between ourselves and what my intentions were.”

  “It was a very great shock to Judy,” Celita said, “because we were expecting to return to London for the Season as debutantes. Then her father intimated that instead she must – consider marriage with – you.”

  She thought as she finished speaking that this seemed rather a bald statement, but it was difficult to put it in any other words.

  Now she glanced up at the Duc and saw that he was indeed frowning.

  There was silence before he quizzed,

  “Are you trying to tell me, Lady Celita, that your friend, Judy, does not wish to marry me?”

  For a moment Celita wondered if she should tell the truth or prevaricate.

  Then she said,

  “Unknown to Lord Waterforde, Judy is very much in love.”

  “In love!” the Duc exclaimed. “Of course I was not told of this.”

  “Why should you be?” Celita asked. “Judy is a girl you have never seen and whose one attraction for you is not her beauty nor her personality, but something very different.”

  Now she feared that she was being somewhat offensive.

  But it was impossible not to tell the truth.

  “You say that Lord Waterforde has no idea that his daughter is in love?” the Duc asked.

  “None at all. I was doubtful from the beginning if he would allow her to marry Clive Cunningham. There was, however, just a chance, which, of course, was swept away when you appeared on the scene.”

  The Duc did not speak and after a moment Celita said,

  “How can you as a perfectionist think of marrying anyone, unless it is a case of the perfect love that everyone seeks and a few are fortunate enough to find?”

  She spoke in a low voice and now the Duc turned his head to look at her.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “I am talking about the perfect love which you, in particular, should be looking for,” Celita answered. “Just as you have made this château absolutely perfect, just as the grounds are like a dream, surely the woman who becomes your wife must be the other half of yourself.”

  She paused and, as the Duc did not speak, she went on,

  “She would give you the love which, though you may not be aware of it, you have been seeking, however much you have enjoyed yourself in – other directions.”

  Now the Duc was staring at Celita as if he could hardly believe what she was saying.

  But she felt as if the words just came to her lips and they flowed out without any effort.

  “Are you really saying,” the Duc asked after a moment, “that you think it is possible for all men and, especially someone like myself, to find the love that is written about by poets and painted in some of the pictures in my gallery?”

  “But, of course, I do,” Celita replied, “and that is what you should be looking for, not making an arranged marriage.”

  “I did not intend to make an arranged marriage,” the Duc interrupted angrily. “That is something I have always abominated, after what happened to me.”

  Celita stared at him.

  “How can you call it anything but arranged if you told Lord Waterforde that you would marry his daughter because she is so rich, and be
cause she is so rich, Lord Waterforde wants at least a Prince or a Duke as a son-in-law.”

  “Now just you listen to me a moment, Lady Celita,” the Duc stipulated, sitting down in the chair he had recently vacated. “I like Lord Waterforde and he is very anxious that we should unite our stables in our attempt to win the French Classic races. He told me that his daughter was a very idealistic girl who had heard of me and thought of me as a Knight in Shining Armour, living in a Fairy tale Palace in the most beautiful part of Provence.”

  Celita gave an audible gasp, but the Duc went on,

  “When I suggested that I would meet her here, he said that everything could be arranged and it would be a dream come true for her.”

  Celita was silent for a moment.

  She could understand how Lord Waterforde was determined that his beloved daughter would have the very best.

  He had appealed to the Duc in a manner that he knew was almost unique.

  Of course Lord Waterforde knew the Duc was an idealist in his endless search to bring perfection back to the château he had been born in.

  It should have been for him the beginning of a Fairy tale that came true.

  But it was impossible for the simple reason that Judy was already in love, although her father had no idea of it.

  The Duc was waiting and after a moment Celita said,

  “I am – sorry! I am – terribly – sorry! Everyone has dreams of what they want, which is just out of reach, and Lord Waterforde’s dream is that Judy should marry someone of great consequence.”

  “And is that something she does not want?” the Duc enquired.

  “All she wants is to live in a nice little English house with a charming, handsome young man, who rides brilliantly, but has not a great deal else to recommend him, except that he loves her with all his heart.”

  The way that Celita spoke was actually rather moving.

  The Duc’s eyes softened before he replied,

  “And you are telling me that I must try not to spoil her dream of happiness?”

  “What I was really intending,” Celita said, “was to ask you for help. I told you the truth about Judy, but Lord Waterforde is a very masterful and a very positive man and, when he wants something, he expects to get it.”