A Virgin Bride (2 page)

“I know, and it was very kind of you to keep me. I have loved every moment of the extra lessons you have arranged for me. I am really quite an expert now, not only on Classical Music but on portraiture and the History of Europe and other subjects not in the usual curriculum.”

The Mother Superior laughed.

“I am so very glad! The Professors you have been studying these extra subjects with are very particular and demanding. As I said to Sister Ignatius only the other day, they are far more trouble than the pupils.”

Now Venetia laughed.

“They may well be! But they are so clever and they know so much that I have enjoyed every second of being with them.”

“I know, and they have enjoyed teaching you. Now go and start packing, my child. I will send Sister Marie Barnard with you as she has more experience in travelling than the majority of the nuns.”

“I would just love to have her with me. She is a walking mine of information and will doubtless instruct me during the journey. I will now go to pack, but I shall feel, ma'am, like crying because I have to leave you.”

She did not wait for the Mother Superior to reply, but gave her a little curtsy and left the room.

The Mother Superior sighed.

She was very fond of Venetia and she had been a credit to the school, but at the same time she was well aware that Venetia was too old to be shut up with a lot of younger girls.

She should be taking her place in the Social world that was waiting for her in London.

Venetia herself, however, was not looking forward to arriving in London.

She said ‘goodbye' to Paris as the train carried her and Sister Marie to the English Channel.

They had a courier to look after them to make sure that Venetia had the best cabin once they reached the ferry.

He had been wise enough to arrange for them to travel on a ferry to the Tower of London rather than one that berthed at Dover.

The ferry was somewhat crowded, but the cabin was comfortable enough for her and Sister Marie.

They arrived in London at ten o'clock the following morning.

And as soon as they had descended the gangway, Venetia saw one of her father's servants in the Lynbrook livery waiting for her.

“It be good to see you back, my Lady,” he said and Venetia smiled at him.

As he collected all her luggage from the courier, she bade farewell to Sister Marie.

“It was so kind of you to come with me, Sister. I only wish I was coming back with you. I shall miss you all so much and all my marvellous lessons.”

“And we shall miss you, but I am sure that now you will shine in the Social world, just as you shone in ours!”

“I think it most unlikely! Please give my love to everybody and thank you again for bringing me here.”

She kissed Sister Marie and then, having thanked the courier, she walked away to where her father's carriage stood waiting.

She had rather hoped that Papa himself might meet her, but there was nobody else there.

The luggage was piled on the back of the carriage and the horses moved off.

As they drove on through the streets, Venetia looked out at the houses, the shops and the people, thinking how different in every way they were from those in France.

Because her mother was dead and her father was exceedingly busy, she had only come home twice in the three years she had been at the Convent school in Paris.

Being very popular, she had had many invitations to stay with the other girls and she had gone from one grand château to another every holiday.

Now she was back home and what she was looking forward to more than anything else was the country.

Riding her father's superb horses had always been her favourite enjoyment since she was a small child.

She had not, however, altogether missed her riding in Paris as she had been able to ride three or four times a week in the
Bois de Boulogne
.

Equally she told herself as they drew nearer to the house in Berkeley Square, she really loved her home, and she knew that she must persuade her father as soon as possible to take her to the country.

It was agonising to know that her beloved Mama would not be there and she would miss her in every room and particularly in the flower garden.

Her Mama, though beautiful, had never been very strong and had died at the beginning of the second year that Venetia was at school.

It had hurt Venetia more than anything else that she had not been allowed to come home for the funeral.

She could easily understand that her father had felt that it would be upsetting for her, but at the same time she had wanted to say ‘goodbye' to her Mama in a way she could not in a foreign land.

All her fervent prayers in the Convent Chapel were in no way the same as if she had been able to pray in the little village Church where she had been christened and confirmed and had worshipped every Sunday since she was a small child.

The carriage drew up outside Lynbrook House in Berkeley Square.

A footman hurriedly pulled a red carpet across the pavement and opened the door of the carriage – he was a man she knew well, who had been with them a long time.

Venetia smiled at him.

“It's so nice to see you, Henry.”

“You've taken the very words out of me mouth, my Lady.”

Venetia went into the hall and held out her hand to the old grey-haired butler.

“If you were not here, Bates,” she said, “I should think I had come to the wrong house.”

“You are a real sight for sore eyes, my Lady. It's too long since we've seen you.”

“Is my father here?” enquired Venetia.

“His Grace is waiting for you in the study and a little impatient because you are later than expected.”

“Only an hour or two. The sea was rather stormy this morning and that is what delayed us.”

She knew, however, that it would irritate her father if he had to wait for her – he had always been a stickler for everything to be done as precisely as he ordered.

Even when she was small, Venetia knew that if she was even a few minutes late, her father would be angry and she had learnt to slide down the banisters to avoid being reprimanded if he was waiting for her to join him at a meal.

As they walked towards the study, she was longing to ask Bates, who always knew everything in the house, why she had been brought home.

But Bates was walking more quickly than usual, so there was no chance for her to have a word with him.

He opened the study door and then announced in his usual stentorian voice,

“Her Ladyship, Your Grace!”

The Duke of Lynbrook rose from the writing desk.

At a first glance Venetia realised that his hair was far whiter than it had been when she had last seen him. She also thought there were more lines on his face and he looked older than somehow she had expected.

She ran towards him.

He kissed her on both cheeks before he exclaimed,

“You are late! What kept you?”

“It was not me, but the sea! I am sorry, Papa, but unless I had wings I could not have come any quicker.”

“Well, you are here and that is what matters.”

He walked as he spoke towards the mantelpiece and Venetia followed him.

Then, as he turned and stood with his back to it, she automatically sat down in one of the armchairs.

She knew of old that when her father took up that particular position, he was either going to give her a lecture or impart important information.

Because he was silent for a moment, she pulled off her hat and tidied her hair as well as she could, before she sat back in the armchair.

As her father still did not speak, Venetia piped up,

“I am waiting, Papa, to hear why you sent for me in such a hurry. I didn't even have time to say ‘goodbye' to my friends.

“My packing was done in such a rush that I warn you I shall need quite a number of the things I was forced to leave behind!”

She was talking impulsively simply to relieve the tension mounting between her and her father.

Yet instinctively she knew that he was finding it difficult to say what was on his mind.

He was looking at her in a strange way that was disconcerting. What she could not know was that he was thinking that she was even more beautiful than her mother had been at the same age.

Finally he began rather slowly,

“I have asked you, Venetia, to come here for a very important and special reason.”

“I am excited to hear it, Papa, I am sure it must be important as you made me leave the Convent so quickly.”

“It is essential you should be in London tomorrow morning, because
your engagement
is being announced in
The London Gazette
to the Duke of Rockinston.”

Venetia stared at him.

She could not believe what she had heard him say.

“I – do not – understand – Papa,” she managed to blurt out finally.

“The Duke of Rockinston, who you probably know is one of the most influential Dukes in the country. He has asked for your hand in marriage.”

He paused a moment before continuing,

“As I have just told you, your engagement will be announced tomorrow.”

“
I just don't believe it!
” exclaimed Venetia. “How can I possibly be engaged to a man I have not even met – ”

Before she could say any more her father put up his hand – it was a gesture she had known since her childhood and meant that she must lapse into silence.

“I expected you to make a good marriage,” he said, “because you so resemble your mother. As you well know, she was a great beauty and one of the most admired and respected ladies in the whole of the Social world.”

His voice hardened as he went on,

“But I had not aimed as high as Rockinston – ”

“How can he conceivably want to marry me, Papa, when he has not even seen me?” Venetia demanded.

Her voice, even to herself, seemed rather tense and not quite steady.

“As you must be well aware, Venetia, marriages between members of families of the same standing as the Duke's and mine are arranged. It would be a terrible blow for our families if, by any mischance, the person married was not accepted by the in-laws or was unable to take up the traditional family position at Court.”

It flashed through Venetia's mind that her Mama at one time had been Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Victoria and it was a position she had never envisaged for herself.

However, that was of no particular consequence at this moment, so she added in a firmer tone,

“I really think, Papa, that before any engagement is actually made public I should at least meet His Grace and decide if I could be happy as his wife.”

As she expected, her father drew himself up and in a very different tone responded harshly,

“Your marriage is for me and no one else to decide. I just cannot believe that a daughter of mine, with any intelligence at all, would not realise how fortunate she was in making such an enviable marriage before she had even appeared as a
debutante
.”

“It was not my fault, Papa, that I have not appeared as a
debutante
. I should at least have some breathing space before I am married. I have not even had the coming-out ball you promised me.”

“There will be plenty of balls once you are the wife of Rockinston. For Heaven's sake
do
use your brains, girl. Every mother of a
debutante
will be gnashing their teeth with envy and wondering just how you could be fortunate enough to catch the most eligible bachelor in the country.”

The Duke's voice was growing louder and harder and she realised there was no point in arguing with him.

Because she was very self-controlled, she managed to draw in her breath slowly and then lapsed into a silence, which was more effective than if she had spoken.

“Surely you must be aware,” he continued, still in an aggressive tone, “that Rockinston is not only the most senior Duke, but also the richest. His family seat, as you should know, is in Kent and is larger and more impressive than Blenheim. In fact it too could be named
a Palace
.”

As Venetia still did not speak, he carried on,

“His horses are superb and win every classic race. He owns not only vast acres in England but also a great number more in Scotland, where his castle is historic.

“Coming from a Convent, as you are, you should go down on your knees and thank God for giving you such a magnificent and unique opportunity to become the wife of such an outstanding Nobleman.”

Venetia was still silent and as her father found her silence more irritating than if she spoke, he added,

“Rockinston is most anxious to be married as soon as possible. Your marriage will thus take place at home in the country and not in London in two weeks time.”

If Venetia wished to remain silent, she now found it impossible.

“
In two weeks
, Papa? That is impossible!”

“Why?” the Duke demanded.

The question sounded like a pistol shot.

“For one reason, I have only my school clothes and you can hardly expect me to go up the aisle in the dress I wore at school, or to accompany the Duke, about whom you have spoken in such colourful terms, when he goes out to dinner? Will we be expected to have a honeymoon?”

“Of course you will have a honeymoon,” her father angrily snapped. “You will just have to stir yourself and buy what clothes you can, if you really need a trousseau.”

“I shall need a very large trousseau, but first of all I would like,
if it is at all convenient
, to meet this man I am to marry.”

Even as she spoke, she knew from the expression on his face that there was something he had not told her.

There was a perceptible pause, before he replied,

“That is impossible. Rockinston, after he had seen me yesterday, told me that he was obliged to go North to inform his mother, who lives in Scotland, that he intends to be married. That is why he has left everything in my hands and I have promised to make all the necessary arrangements for your wedding.”