Bewitched (Bantam Series No. 16) (3 page)

The Marquis, however, had been abroad with his Regiment in Portugal when Eurydice married, and although his father bewailed the fact, he himself had felt no particular loss.

He sat down now on an elegant damask sofa in Eurydice’s Drawing-Room and regarded her with a scrutinising expression which she found somehow perplexing.

“What is the matter, Fabius? You appear worried.”

She was in fact puzzling her head as to why he should call on her so unexpectedly.

She was glad that she was wearing one of her prettiest muslin gowns because, although she was not strongly interested personally in the man she had known ever since childhood, she was well aware that he was sought after by the majority of her female friends.

To capture his interest would be a feather in her cap, for which she would undoubtedly be envied.

“I want to talk to you, Eurydice.”

“You said that before.”

“I know, but I am not quite certain how to explain to you why I am here.”

“It is unlike you to be so reticent,” Eurydice teased.

“What I have come to say,” the Marquis went on in a serious tone, “is that I think we should do what was always expected of us by your father and by mine.”

“What was that?” Eurydice enquired.

There was a note of astonishment in her voice. She could hardly believe that the Marquis was in fact going to say, what she half suspected trembled on his lips.

“I think we should get married!”

“Are you serious?” Eurydice enquired.

“Very serious,” he answered. “You know as well as I do that it was what our fathers planned since the moment you were born. They were close friends, and they both envisaged the day would come when our Estates would become one because you became my wife.”

“But all that was years ago,” Eurydice objected, “and now they are both dead.”

“But we are alive,” the Marquis said, “and I cannot help feeling it was an eminently sensible plan.”

“Sensible perhaps, but not very romantic.”

“I am sorry if I have expressed myself badly,” the Marquis said with a smile most women found irresistible. “I am very fond of you, Eurydice, as you should well know. I always have been.”

“That is nonsense!” Eurydice retorted rudely. “You heartily disliked me when you were a small boy!”

“I
am sure I did nothing of the sort!”

“You always said you had no use for girls. You used to pull my hair at parties and once when I threw your cricket ball away you actually hit me.”

“Good God, Eurydice,” the Marquis exclaimed, “you can hardly hold that against me now!”

“Why not? After all, you have not fallen over yourself to show your affection since we have grown up.”

“Have I had a chance?” the Marquis asked. “You were married while I was away fighting in Portugal.”

“You certainly did not seem very perturbed about it when we did meet!”

“I only saw you perhaps once or twice after you were married,” the Marquis said. “Besides Beaugrave was a friend of mine. You could hardly expect me to make love to you under his nose.”

“You did not want to make love to me,” Eurydice retorted. “You never have wanted to, so why should you now wish to marry me?”

“For one thing, I think it is time I got married,” the Marquis said, “and for another, I am quite certain we should deal well together. I would look after you, Eurydice, and you cannot go on getting yourself gossiped about forever!”

“Gossiped about? And who is slandering me I should like to know?”

“Now really!” the Marquis exclaimed with a hint of amusement in his voice. “You know quite well that you have caused one scandal after another ever since you have been widowed. And as if you did not know, everyone in London is now talking about you and Severn.”

There was a pause. Then casting down her eyes Eurydice said: “Perhaps with reason!”

“Good God!” the Marquis exclaimed, “do you mean to say the Duke has come up to scratch?”

“I am not answering that question,” Eurydice replied with dignity.

“Then he has not!” the Marquis said shrewdly.

“You have no right to come here and cross-question me.”

The Marquis rose to his feet.

“I see it all now,” he said. “You came down here in the middle of the Season, which I thought was strange, simply because you believed the Duke would follow you. Well, has he?”

“I told you, Fabius, it is none of your business!” Eurydice cried. “Go away and leave me alone.”

“I came here to ask you if you would marry me,” the Marquis said firmly. “You have not yet given me your answer.”

“I need time to think about it.”

He looked at her speculatively and the expression in his eyes was hard.

“In other words,” he said slowly, “you are waiting to see if Severn makes you a better offer. If he does you will accept. If not, a Marquis is quite a good catch!”

“There are dozens of people who want to marry me,” Eurydice asserted rudely, rather like a small girl who wishes to be aggressive.

“I am well aware of that!” the Marquis replied, “but I doubt, apart from myself and Severn, if you would be prepared to accept any of those love-lorn swains who write odes to your lips and leave little
billets-doux
on your doorstep every morning. It is doubtful if the majority could afford to do anything else.”

He spoke sarcastically and Eurydice, rising, stamped her foot. “How dare you speak to me like that, Fabius!” she said. “You always have been odious and I hate you! Do you understand? I hate you!”

“Nevertheless you will marry me,” the Marquis remarked.

“I shall do nothing of the sort,” she retorted. “I have no wish to marry anyone unless...”

She paused.

“... unless they can give you the position that you want in Society,” the Marquis finished. “You have enough money, Eurydice, we are both aware of that, but you want the standing. You want to be a great Hostess. It was always your ambition.”

She did not reply and after a moment he went on:

“That narrows the field, does it not? In fact, as I have already said, it leaves Severn in the lead and me a close second. There is no-one else in the race.”

“I am not going to answer you,” Eurydice snapped.

The Marquis was aware that she was almost shaking with rage. “Well I would like an answer soon, in fact within two or three days,” the Marquis said. “It is a matter of some urgency.”

“What do you mean by that?” Eurydice asked curiously. “Why should you suddenly be in such a hurry?”

Then she gave an exclamation.

“I know why you want to get married! I am not a fool, Fabius. It is because of Jethro, is it not?”

“It is now my turn not to answer questions,” the Marquis replied.

“But I will answer them for you,” Eurydice said. “The whole world and his wife are well aware that Jethro is waiting to step into your shoes. He is banking on it. He was quite certain you would be killed like poor Beaugrave, and when you were not, he has boasted, when he is in his cups—which is most of the time—that he will get rid of you somehow!”

She paused.

“That is true, is it not?”

“Perhaps,” the Marquis admitted.

“So you want a wife and you want an heir,” Eurydice said almost beneath her breath.

“Well?” the Marquis enquired.

“I suppose if I say no you will find someone else to marry you. Any wife, whatever she is like, will be better than thinking of Jethro setting himself up at Ruckley and sporting a coronet in the House of Lords.”

“You express yourself very eloquently,” the Marquis said. “I am waiting for an answer, Eurydice.”

“I am not going to give you one at the moment.”

“So we have to wait for Severn?”

“Per ... haps.”

“Has he given you any intimation as to whether his feelings for you are serious?”

“I do not wish to discuss him with you,” Eurydice said. “In fact I have nothing more to say at the moment, Fabius, except that I will consider your offer of marriage. It is of course very flattering!”

She spoke sarcastically, and quite suddenly the Marquis smiled. “This is not the way I had intended to approach you.”

“No?”

“I meant to doll it up with roses and blue ribbons. It is just that I am not very good at that sort of thing.”

“I have heard very different accounts from the ladies upon whom you have bestowed your favours!”

“That is rather different.”

“Is it impossible to think of love and marriage at the same time?” Eurydice asked in a low voice.

“Not impossible,” the Marquis admitted, “but impracticable. You know as well as I do Eurydice, that life is not like a romantic novelette.”

“I loved Beaugrave ... I loved him madly!”

“That was perhaps the exception which proves the rule,” the Marquis agreed. “But do you think your love, your infatuation, or whatever it was, would have lasted? We both know what Beaugrave was like.”

Eurydice was silent. She was thinking of the wild, raffish young man she had married. They had both been little more than children and their life together had been one escapade after another.

Then because he craved more excitement than she could provide for him, Beaugrave Walden had bought himself into a fashionable Cavalry Regiment and been killed within six months of joining.

“You see,” the Marquis said quietly, as if he followed her thoughts, “a sensible marriage could give you security and a husband who will look after you and protect you. I will do that, Eurydice.”

“I believe you would,” she answered suddenly serious. “At the same time, have you never loved anyone, Fabius, enough to wish to marry her?”

“The answer is no.”

“But you have had many love affairs?”

“Not as many as I am credited with,” the Marquis answered, “but enough, Eurydice, to know that what people call ‘love’ is an ephemeral experience which seldom lasts.”

“Is that really true?” she questioned.

She walked away from him to look out on the sunlit garden. There were daffodils under the trees and the shrubs were coming into bloom.

She looked very lovely silhouetted against the dark green of the trees outside, and the Marquis, as his eyes rested on her golden hair and clear-cut features, was suddenly perceptive enough to realise that Eurydice would never be content with no more than a great position, however important it might be.

Like all women, she wanted love, a love that was more than passion, more than desire, a love which he knew he was incapable of giving her.

As if her thoughts had brought her some solution to the problems that beset her, Eurydice turned from the window.

“You are right, Fabius,” she said. “I do need security, and I intend to wait to hear what the Duke has to say to me tonight.”

“Tonight?” the Marquis asked.

“He is coming to dinner.”

“In which case I can most certainly wait until tomorrow.”

“I may not be able to give you an answer even then,” Eurydice said. “The trouble is, Fabius, I do not want to marry you. If I cannot be a Duchess, I want to be in love.”

“You are crying for the moon,” the Marquis said.

“How I should like to prove that you are wrong,” Eurydice retorted almost rudely. “You are so insufferably sure of yourself.”

The Marquis laughed.

“I see it is high time I left you,” he said. “Besides, you will want to make yourself particularly alluring for this evening.”

There was something almost jeering in the way he spoke the words, and Eurydice, tossing her head, walked towards the door.

“I shall not try to persuade you to stay,” she said. “Perhaps when you next call on me either here or in London you will be in a more agreeable mood.”

“Or perhaps a more amorous one,” the Marquis said. “Would you like to kiss me good-bye, Eurydice?”

“I can think of nothing I wish to do less,” she retorted, and opened the door before he could do so.

“Good-bye, Fabius,” she said. “You annoy me. You always have annoyed me. I can only hope that one day you will find someone who will make you suffer all the tortures of hell. It will be so very good for you!”

“Your solicitude overwhelms me!” the Marquis retorted.

Then he stepped outside Eurydice’s very impressive house on which her father had expended an exorbitant amount of money, and climbed into his Phaeton.

He had driven down from London with only a small groom seated beside him and now, as he took up the reins, the boy released the horses’ bridles and, as the Marquis started off, he clambered like a small monkey into his seat at the back of the Phaeton. They drove away down the drive.

As they went the Marquis had a great desire to reach Ruckley as quickly as possible.

He suddenly felt appalled at what he had done—proposed marriage for the first time in his life—and to someone who said quite frankly that she disliked him.