The Marquis Is Trapped (13 page)

They spoke about the grouse hatching and whether the bags would be as good as they had been last year.

It was interesting enough chat, but, at the same time as they drove home, the Marquis found himself once again worrying about Celina.

She had very certainly been the life and soul of the younger members of the family at luncheon.  They had sat at the other end of the table while he was on the right of his hostess.

He could hear Celina’s laughter and her soft clear voice making those around her animated.

‘What could I possibly have done,’ he questioned, ‘to make her behave so strangely with me?’

It was exactly the same on the return to Darendell Castle – again she sat as far away from him as she could.

Whenever he spoke directly to her, she answered in monosyllables without looking at him.

When they arrived, she disappeared quickly leaving him to follow slowly with his host and hostess.

That evening, when he was dressing for dinner, the Marquis again asked Gilbert if he had found out anything more about the family.

He would never have had such a conversation with any other servant, but Gilbert had been with him so long – in fact he always thought he was almost part of the family.

“Well, from what I gathers, my Lord, Lady Celina were as nice as possible when the Earl first married Lady Benson, but things have changed in the last month or two.”

“In what way?” enquired the Marquis.

“Them be still not what your Lordship might call open-mouthed with me, but they hinted there be something unpleasant happening to Lady Celina that comes from her stepmother.”

“Unpleasant?  What could they mean by that?”

“One of the housemaids who’s been here years, did say that her mother’d turn in her grave at what’s going on.  Then, as if she’d already said too much, the other servants hushed her into silence.”

The Marquis was intrigued – it was very definitely a puzzle he must solve, because in a way it concerned him.

“Just go on finding out what you can, Gilbert, and I hope you are comfortable here.”

“Very comfortable, my Lord, now I’ve changed me room.”

“Changed your room?”

“Well, it were just like this, my Lord.  They puts me upstairs with the other menservants in what us calls in England, the attic.  So I pointed out that if you wanted me, there was no way you could be in touch with me and it’d take me a month of Sundays to get to your Lordship.”

The Marquis laughed.

“Then I insisted they move me,” Gilbert carried on, “and now I’m in a small dressing room, which they say is very seldom used – just across the passage.”

“That is certainly convenient, Gilbert.”

“It suits me, my Lord, and if your Lordship shouts loud enough, I can hear you.”

The Marquis laughed again as it was so like Gilbert to get his own way in whatever he wanted.

He appreciated it that the man liked to be near him and Gilbert certainly looked after him better than any other servant could possibly have done.

He went down for dinner and found the two guests who had come from nearby were a charming couple – he had met them before in England and they were delighted to see him again.

They talked animatedly about the parties they had attended in Mayfair and the people they both knew.

Then the lady, a Mrs. McCleod, asked,

“I think, that at the party where we met, you were with Lady Heywood.  How is she?  I think she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.”

“She is a great success,” replied the Marquis.  “The day I left London she was dining that night at Marlborough House.”

Mr. McCleod chortled.

“Then I’m sure the Prince of Wales, who has an eye for a pretty woman, appreciates her.”

“I would not be surprised, but he is still very much enamoured, I understand, with Lady Warwick.”

The conversation then turned to the Prince of Wales and the Marquis was rather amazed at how well informed the McCleods were, despite the fact that they were so far from London and only crossed the border occasionally.

When dinner was finished the ladies moved into the drawing room, while the gentlemen stayed for some time talking about sport.

The Marquis learnt that Mr. McCleod boasted some fine stalking on his land, but fishing in his lake was not as interesting or as prolific as fishing in the river.

“When the Marquis leaves me,” the Earl said to Mr. McCleod, “you must come and have a day on the Daren.  I never have more than two rods fishing at the same time.”

The Marquis smiled.

“Are you suggesting, sir,” he asked the Earl, “that I have overstayed my welcome?”

“No, of course not.  I would like you to stay for at least another two weeks and if you have not had a record catch by that time, I shall be disappointed.”

“So will I and I am most grateful to you.”

When they then rejoined the ladies, it was to find that Celina was not there.

The McCleods did not stay long.

“I always prefer to take my time driving back in the dark,” said Mr. McCleod.  “It’s easy to have an accident if there is no moon and the horses are going too fast.”

“You are most wise,” agreed the Earl.  “I am only sorry you must leave us.”

“It’s getting on for half-past eleven,” Mrs. McCleod chipped in, “and I have reached the age when I enjoy my beauty sleep.”

“So do I,” agreed the Countess.  “But please come and visit us again soon.”

“We will come whenever you ask us,” replied Mr. McCleod, “and I do hope your husband will not forget his invitation for me to fish on the Daren.”

Both the McCleods then wished the Marquis ‘good sport’ and ‘tight lines’ and departed in their chaise.

What a pleasant and delightful couple they were for the Earl to have as his neighbours, he reflected.

“Now I suppose we must go to bed,” he said.

“There is no hurry,” asserted the Countess.  “I am sure Ewen wants a nightcap and you will enjoy one too.  I have made my ‘special’ for both of you.”

She then said goodnight to the Marquis and left him and the Earl alone.

They walked to the grog table and the Earl picked up a glass, waiting for the Marquis to do the same.

The Marquis, however, hesitated as he felt he had drunk enough at dinner and actually disliked drinking just before he retired to bed.

The Earl sat down in a chair.

Deftly the Marquis pushed the drink left for him to one side and picked up an empty glass.

There was a large jug of lemonade on the tray and he filled the glass.

As he did so, the Earl spoke to him,

“I have been wondering, Oliver, just why you never married.  I heard tonight the name of yet another beautiful lady you have been with and they never seem, from what I have heard, to last long where you are concerned.”

“I have no intention of getting married.  The more my relatives beseech me to do so, the more stubborn I find it makes me.  I do prefer being a bachelor and I will not be bullied up the aisle!”

The Earl put back his head and guffawed.

“You sound very much like your father who always had his own way in everything.  Of course, you are quite right, my boy.  Enjoy yourself while you are young – one is old for a long time.”

“I am only too ready to take your advice, my Lord.”

He next deftly turned the conversation back to the sport.

It was half-an-hour later before they went upstairs.

The Marquis was aware as they climbed slowly up the stairs that the Earl was somewhat unsteady.

He wondered what had been in the ‘night-cap’ and was glad he had not touched it.

The lights had already been dimmed to only three sconces in his passage, his own room being in the opposite direction to that of the Earl.

They said goodnight at the top of the stairs and as the Earl was tottering, the Marquis watched him until he reached his bedroom.

Then he walked towards his own room and opened the door.

He turned round to close it and then, as he moved a little further into the room, he came suddenly to a standstill.

He stared in front of him in sheer astonishment.

His large four-poster bed had a large ornate canopy over it.

Beneath it sitting up against the pillows was Celina!

For a moment the Marquis could not move and was speechless.

Then Celina spoke in a little voice that was hardly audible,

“I am sorry – I am – terribly sorry.”

“What on earth are you doing
here
, Celina?”

“I am so sorry,” she whimpered again, “and please, please – please don’t be angry.  It is not – my fault.  I knew you would be horrified, my Lord.”

“I am not horrified, Celina, just astonished.”

“I thought you would be, but –
she
made me and I had to do – what she said.”

The Marquis now reached the bed and sat down at the end of it.

He realised, as he did so, that Celina, who was only wearing a thin transparent nightgown, shuddered.

She seemed in the light of the candles to have gone even paler than she was already.

Deliberately keeping his voice as low and calm as possible, the Marquis enquired,

“Now, tell me from the beginning why you are here and why you have been frightened of me ever since I came to stay at the Castle.”

“I was frightened,” she answered, “because I knew just what she was going to do – and why she had asked you to come.”

“I suppose you are referring to your stepmother?”

“Yes – and I so wanted to warn you, my Lord – but I could not do it once you had arrived.”

“Now tell me what your stepmother wants and why you are here,” the Marquis asked her very quietly.

“It is because tomorrow she will force Papa – to say that you have to marry me – and I know you don’t want to marry anyone – least of all
me
.”

“Are you saying that your stepmother plotted this?  And I was invited to stay here at the Castle, just so that I should have to marry you?”

He was thinking the whole scenario out in his own mind as he spoke.

He was not surprised when Celina answered,

“My Stepmama is determined to get rid of me!  When she received a letter from London – telling her that someone called Isobel wanted to marry you – she made Papa invite you to stay here for the fishing.”

The Marquis was just beginning to realise what had happened, but he managed to enquire in a very quiet tone,

“Why does your stepmother want you married?”

“She wants to be rid of me, because, as Papa does not have a son, in Scotland the title and the estate can go in the female line.”

“Yes, I know that – ”

“Stepmama wants Papa’s money – and she thinks if I am married off to a rich aristocrat, then Papa will leave her everything which is not entailed.  Meanwhile he wants his money to be spent on the estate when he is dead.”

“So your stepmother wants to get rid of you?  Is this her first attempt?”

Celina shook her head.

“No.  She told me that I had to marry Mr. Ignatius Hambleton, who lives on the other side of the County.”

“Why did you not marry him?” asked the Marquis.

He saw Celina shudder.

“She had pushed him into proposing to me, but then I had heard how – cruel he was to his horses.  Then when I saw him, he was old – and repulsive.  When he asked me to marry him, as Stepmama had arranged, I told him I would – rather die than be his wife!”

She spoke in a way that told the Marquis without words how horrified and terrified she had been by the man.

“So Mr. Hambleton went away and what did your stepmother do then?”

“She beat me,” whispered Celina shyly.  “My back was agony for weeks.”

She gave a little sob.

“When she told me – that I had to marry you – I knew I could not bear it all to happen again.”

“Why did you not tell your father?”

“That is what I wanted to do,” replied Celina.  “But Stepmama said that if I did, she would kill both my horses and injure my arm – so that I would never be able to ride or fish again.”

The Marquis’s lips tightened.

He gazed at Celina as if he could scarcely believe what he had just heard.

He knew, however, it must be the truth.

He reflected that any woman who could behave in such a vile manner should be sentenced to death.

Because he was silent, Celina murmured,

“I do know that you – don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you – but Stepmama will force Papa to tell you that you have ruined my reputation and to save it you have – to ask me to be – your wife.”

The words came jerkily from her lips and now the tears were running down her cheeks.