Revenge Is Sweet Read online

  ‘I must keep my brain clear for what I have to do,’ she told herself.

  Then once again the question was there – what was it to be?

  Would it be anything she found frightening?

  When the ladies left the room, she felt sure that the time when she had to ‘sing for her supper’ had come.

  She remembered her old Nanny saying,

  “You never get anything for nothing in this world!” and she was sure that it was true.

  She had received more than she had expected and now she would have to pay for it.

  Before they reached the hall, Sarah said very quietly,

  “Go upstairs! My maid, Hannah, is waiting to dress you.”

  Valessa felt her heart give a frightened leap and without saying anything she walked up the stairs to her bedroom.

  Hannah, the elderly maid who had done her hair, was in her bedroom.

  “Now you’ve got to change, miss,” she began.

  “I cannot believe that you have anything for me as pretty as the gown I have on,” Valessa replied.

  Hannah unbuttoned it and, as she did so, Valessa was aware that there was a gown and several other things lying on the bed.

  They were all white.

  What Hannah now slipped over her head was another beautiful gown that was different from the others she had worn.

  It reached to the floor and there was a small train billowing out at the back. It was also not so décolleté as the gown she had worn at dinner.

  It was certainly very beautiful and was trimmed with lace and white satin ribbons, which Valessa was certain had come from France.

  Hannah made her sit down at the dressing table and arranged her hair in a different style from how she had worn it at dinner. Then she put more powder on her face and slightly more salve on her lips.

  Valessa thought she had finished.

  Hannah went to the bed and came back with something in her hands.

  It was a long lace veil and, when she draped it over Valessa’s head, she asked in surprise,

  “Surely this is a Wedding veil?”

  “It’s what her Ladyship wore at her own Wedding,” Hannah replied.

  “B-but – why – ?” Valessa began.

  Then she felt that it was a mistake to ask questions of the maid.

  Harry had said that he was producing this charade and she expected that Hannah did not know any more than she did.

  There was a wreath of orange blossom to hold the veil in place and Hannah arranged it so that it covered her face.

  Valessa was rather glad that she could look at the world, or rather the audience, without them being able to see her clearly.

  There were long white kid gloves to wear, but Hannah did not cover her left hand, just buttoned it at the wrist.

  Lastly Hannah gave her a bouquet of white roses and lilies-of-the-valley, which Valessa thought was very lovely.

  All this took some time, but she was just about ready when there was a knock on the door.

  Hannah opened it and Harry came into the room.

  “Wait outside, Hannah!” he said.

  The maid went into the corridor and closed the door behind her.

  Harry walked to where Valessa was sitting in front of the mirror.

  “You look marvellous!” he said. “Just as I wanted you to.”

  “What is it – I have to – do?”

  “Now listen, Valessa,” he said. “We have a joke to play on our friends and a competition, when they have to make guesses.”

  Valessa was listening and she raised her face to his and was looking at him through her veil.

  “What I have staged,” Harry went on, “is a Wedding which will take place in the Chapel.”

  Valessa had noted that there was a Chapel in the house and because the building was old it was something she thought that she might have expected.

  “You will be the bride,” Harry was saying, “but the bridegroom will be in a wheelchair, so the congregation will not be able to see him clearly. He will also wear dark glasses.”

  He paused for a moment as if he expected her to ask a question.

  When she said nothing, he went on,

  “All those in the Chapel will see is you coming up the aisle on my arm and the bridegroom’s back. They are supplied with cards on which they have to write the name of who they think he is. Those who get it right will receive one of Sarah’s expensive prizes!”

  He smiled as he spoke as if it was a joke and Valessa thought that it was an original idea.

  “Now come along,” Harry urged her, “and don’t feel nervous.”

  “I am sure I shall be – all right,” Valessa replied.

  “All you have to do is to make your responses in exactly the same way as you would in a real Wedding. Afterwards Sarah has thought up a special surprise for you!”

  “She has been so kind to me already,” Valessa said, “that I could not take – anything more!”

  “Nonsense!” Harry exclaimed. “One can never have too much of a good thing. Come along, I expect they are ready for us now.”

  Valessa rose to her feet.

  She thought that she would not be frightened if she could hold on to Harry’s arm and it was certainly an original idea to amuse a house party.

  Harry took her down the stairs and through the hall.

  They walked a long way down a corridor that Valessa thought must lead to the back of the great house.

  She suspected that it was the old part and, when she reached the Chapel, she was sure that she was right.

  All the house party were already inside, sitting in the ancient carved pews.

  Valessa could see through her veil that they were laughing and talking to each other, but in whispers because the organ was playing.

  The Chapel was quite small and beautifully decorated with white flowers. The only light came from six candles on the altar.

  What made it different from an ordinary Service was that the front pews were covered with lilies, which made a barrier between the congregation and the bride and bridegroom.

  Valessa thought that it was a clever idea so as to hide the bridegroom and make it more difficult to identify him.

  As she and Harry reached the door, the organ played “Here Comes the Bride”.

  They proceeded up the aisle to where Valessa saw a Clergyman was standing waiting for them.

  She supposed that he was an actor and he certainly looked the part.

  He was an old man with white hair and a beard and she had a feeling that she had seen him somewhere before. Then she told herself that, if he was an actor, that was impossible.

  Because she was playing a part, she kept her head slightly bowed as she thought a bride would do.

  She could, however, see out of the corners of her eyes the laughing faces of the guests as they scrutinised her.

  She and Harry passed through the barrier of lilies.

  Now, as they stood in front of the Parson, Lord Cyril pushed a man in a wheelchair into the Chapel from the Vestry door.

  He was wearing a pair of dark glasses and yet, as Valessa glanced at him without turning her head, she was aware that it was the Marquis.

  He was sitting down rather low in the wheelchair, his hands clasped in front of him.

  She thought that, as they could not see his face, it would be very difficult for those in the congregation to identify him over the barrier of lilies and she realised too that the Chapel, except for the altar, was very dark.

  As the Marquis was drawn up beside her, the Parson started the Service.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here – ”

  Valessa had heard it so often in their little village Church. Her mother had always made a point of accepting invitations to the Weddings of the village girls and had taken her with her.

  Twice when she had been young she had been a bridesmaid, first to the Vicar’s daughter and then to the doctor’s. She thought that it would be easy for her to repeat every word
of the Service.

  Then the Parson said to the Marquis,

  “Say after me, ‘I, Stafford Frederick Alexander, take thee,Valessa – ’”

  The Marquis repeated the words in his very distinctive voice that would certainly be a clue to those listening.

  Then it was her turn.

  “I, Valessa, take thee, Stafford Frederick Alexander, to mywedded husband – ”

  She spoke without a pause.

  A Wedding ring was produced and the Marquis with the aid of Lord Cyril, who guided his hand, placed the ring on her finger.

  It was rather small and she had the idea that it was Lord Cyril who finally ensured that it was in its right place.

  Then they knelt and the Parson blessed them.

  It was only then that Valessa thought it wrong to make a mockery of what was a Sacrament of the Church.

  She had prayed so often that she would be blessed and she felt that a Blessing by a Priest, which she had always thought came from God Himself, should not be imitated by actors.

  The Service ended.

  She wondered if she would be expected to go down the aisle beside the Marquis in his chair or perhaps he would rise to his feet and take off his dark glasses.

  Her question, which she could not put into words, was answered.

  Lord Cyril pushed the Marquis past the altar and out of the Chapel through another door.

  Valessa followed him.

  She was glad that they were not to continue play-acting in what was a consecrated building. And she was sure that her mother would have been shocked.

  She expected now they were all going to the French Salon and that ‘the congregation’ would receive their prizes there.

  Outside the Chapel they passed a staircase, which she suspected led up to the first floor.

  But they went a little further and turned into a sitting room, which like everything else in the house, was furnished in a luxurious fashion.

  There was only a candelabrum with three candles alight in it.

  There were some decanters and glasses on a table and, as Lord Cyril pushed the Marquis near to it, Sarah said,

  “Don’t take off your disguise. We want the others to see you close up and we must give them time to move from the Church back into the salon.”

  “Yes, of course,” the Marquis replied.

  “And you certainly deserve a drink,” Lord Cyril remarked, “for the splendid way you have acted your part.”

  He poured some wine into a small glass as Harry said,

  “And that equally goes for Valessa! She was absolutely fantastic!”

  “Of course she was!” Lord Cyril said. “Give her a drink. She deserves it!”

  “No – I am all – right,” Valessa smiled.

  “Rubbish!” Harry said. “You have a long evening in front of you, and, as your Stage Manager, I insist you drink to your success.”

  She laughed.

  Lord Cyril was bending over the Marquis and Harry was standing in front of her with a glass in his hand.

  She put down her bouquet, lifted her veil with both hands and threw it back over her wreath.

  Harry handed her a liqueur.

  At least she thought that was what it was.

  “Now drink all of it,” he said, “or I shall be angry! It will make you feel marvellous and ready to receive all the compliments that are due to you.”

  As she took the glass in her hands, she heard the Marquis say,

  “Your good health, Valessa, and may you always be happy!”

  “Now you must drink to him!” Harry said in a low voice.

  “Yes – yes – of course,” Valessa agreed.

  She lifted her glass.

  “To you, my Lord, and of course to Saladin.”

  She tried to see the Marquis as she spoke, but Lord Cyril was standing in the way.

  “Now that was a very good toast!” Harry exclaimed. “Drink up!”

  Because she wanted to please him, Valessa did as she was told.

  She felt the liqueur, which was very sweet, slipping down her throat.

  “It – tastes very – nice – ” she began to say.

  Then suddenly she felt that she must sit down.

  A chair was behind her and she lowered herself into it.

  She felt as if the room was moving round her.

  She gave a little gasp and reached out her hand as if to support herself.

  Then she knew no more –

  *

  Valessa felt that she was at the end of a very long dark tunnel with just a glimmer of light at the end of it.

  It seemed to waver and beckon to her and she tried to move towards it.

  Suddenly there was the sound of laughter and people were talking.

  She was not certain what they were saying.

  She could hear them and thought that it was a nuisance when she wanted to be quiet and sleep.

  The light was getting brighter and the voices louder.

  “Wake up, Valessa! Wake up!”

  It was a woman’s voice speaking to her.

  Although her eyelids felt as if they were weighed down with lead, Valessa opened her eyes.

  She saw Sarah’s face and it was above her.

  The laughter seemed to be accentuated until it was so loud that she felt it hurt her ears.

  “Wake up!” Sarah ordered.

  A man’s voice was saying the same thing, but he was speaking to somebody else.

  Sarah’s face became clearer until it came into focus.

  Valessa could see the diamond tiara she was wearing on her head and the huge necklace of diamonds that was round her neck.

  “Wake up, Valessa,” Sarah said again, “and meet your bridegroom!”

  It was then that Valessa remembered the charade.

  She supposed now that they were going to give out the prizes to the people who had guessed who the bridegroom was.

  Suddenly she was aware that she was lying down and it seemed strange!

  She wanted to sit up and Sarah moved aside so that a man she thought was Lord Freeman could put his arm behind her.

  He pulled her up against some soft pillows.

  As he did so, she realised that somebody beside her was being lifted in the same way.

  Slowly she turned her head, which felt stiff, and saw that it was the Marquis.

  He was no longer wearing his dark glasses and his eyes were opening slowly.

  Then Valessa was aware that the whole house party was standing round the end of the bed laughing and making jokes to each other about them.

  She felt a little wave of resentment seep through her.

  Then she heard the Marquis say,

  “What the devil’s – going on? What is – all this – about?”

  “We are celebrating your marriage!” Sarah replied. “And you have certainly been hasty in taking your bride to bed!”

  There was something in the way she spoke that made Valessa wince.

  “I don’t know – what you are talking about,” the Marquis said, “or why I am here!”

  He made a movement as if he would get off the bed.

  Then he put his hand up to his forehead.

  “What – have you – given me?” he asked angrily.

  “Just a pleasant little drug,” Harry replied, “which made you do exactly what we wanted. You will feel better when you have had something to drink.”

  He held out a glass to the Marquis, who pushed it away.

  “What are you – talking about?” he demanded.

  Harry turned so that the guests could hear what he said,

  “Now let me explain – we had a competition in which you all had to guess the identity of the bridegroom. It was, of course, the noble Marquis!”

  He looked at him and then went on,

  “You all saw him, slightly disguised and in a wheelchair, marry Miss Valessa Chester in the Chapel.”

  “I guessed who he was!” someone listening exclaimed.

  “So did I!”
another voice chimed in.

  “It was not really difficult,” Harry said, “and, of course, you will all receive prizes. But what you did not realise, and this is the whole joke of the evening, that the Marriage Service was genuine and the Parson an ordained Priest! What is more Sarah has a Marriage Certificate to prove that the elusive Marquis has been caught at last!”

  For a moment there was a stupefied silence.

  Then, as Sarah held up triumphantly what Valessa saw was a Marriage Certificate, the men began to laugh.

  They laughed uproariously and Valessa was certain that most of them were drunk.

  Then the Marquis, with what Valessa felt was a tremendous effort, flung his legs off the bed and stood up.

  “This joke has gone too far!” he said in a cold voice.

  “It’s no joke,” Sarah said. “It’s true. You had a Special Licence signed by the Archbishop of Canterbury! And this is your Marriage Certificate! You are married, Stafford! Married to a girl I picked up yesterday in rags and suffering from starvation in a house that was empty of every piece of furniture!”

  She spat the words at him. At the same time there was a note of venom in her voice that was unmistakable.

  The Marquis looked across the bed at her.

  “How can you have done such a thing?” he asked.

  “I did it to teach you a lesson!” Sarah answered. “I was not good enough for you! Well, I hope you enjoy yourself with a wife whose blood is not blue, but more like the water from a sewer!”

  For a second after she had spoken there was silence.

  Then the men were laughing again and the sound seemed to echo and re-echo round the room.

  “Get out! Get out, all of you!” the Marquis asserted.

  He did not raise his voice, but it was unmistakably an order.

  For a moment nobody moved.

  Then Valessa saw some of the ladies, who had been at the back of the room, turn towards the door.

  The Marquis stood waiting, seeming in a strange way overpowering, dwarfing and dominating everybody else in the room.

  Finally there was only Harry and Sarah left.

  “You too, Grantham!” the Marquis said. “Get out before I strike you!”

  “You took Yvonne from me,” Harry answered, “and I can only tell you that you deserve all you get!”

  “And that,” Sarah interposed, “is a wife who, whether you like it or not, is now the Marchioness of Wyndonbury!”