Читать книгу Enchanted - Barbara Cartland - Страница 2

As the door of the library opened, Lady Elfa Allerton immediately lay down on the floor of the balcony.

The library in the Duke of Northallerton’s house was one of its outstanding features and every visitor exclaimed over its imposing proportions and the intricate brass balcony that ran round two walls and was reached by a spiral brass steps.

The bottom part of the balcony rail was of such a close design of flowers and leaves that when Lady Elf lay down it was impossible for her to be seen by anybody in the room below.

Silently pushing her book in front of her she went on reading, hoping that whoever was below would soon go away.

She suspected that it was her mother and she knew only too well that if she was seen she would immediately be sent into the garden on some errand or to work amongst the flowers.

The Duchess of Northallerton was obsessed by her garden and she could not understand why her children found it boring to cut off dead heads, to plant new acquisitions from various parts of the country or worse still to weed the flower beds.

She had long been convinced that her second daughter, Elfa; spent far too much time reading, which resulted in her head being in the clouds and her living as the Duchess often said to whoever would listen in ‘a dream world of her own’.

Elfa very gently turned over a page and concentrating on what she was reading, which she found of absorbing interest.

She started when she heard her father’s voice saying sharply,

“So here you are, Elizabeth. I have been looking for you everywhere. I expected you to be in the garden.”

“I was looking up how to spell the Latin name for the new azalea that has just arrived,” the Duchess replied. “You must come and see it, Arthur. It is a very rare species and I am so excited that it has travelled so well.”

“I have something to tell you, Elizabeth,” the Duke said, “that is far more exciting than a new azalea or any of the rest of your plants.”

“What has happened?” the Duchess asked a little apprehensively.

She was aware that her stolid rather prosaic husband was rarely excited about anything and it was certainly unusual for it to sound in his voice.

“I have settled the question of Magnus Croft once and for all,” the Duke declared.

“Magnus Croft?” the Duchess repeated.

“Don’t be so stupid, Elizabeth! You know just as well as I do that I am referring to the ten thousand acres of land that has been a bone of contention between us and Lynchester for the last twenty years.”

“Oh – that!” the Duchess exclaimed.

“Yes, that!” the Duke said positively, “and I think that nobody except myself could have thought of such an excellent and amicable compromise.”

Elfa was listening now because she knew even better than her mother how this dispute over the ownership of Magnus Croft had engendered such a feud between two Ducal houses.

While it had amused the County, it had resulted in a bitterness that had prevented the two Dukes from enjoying each other’s company.

That the two largest and most important landlords in the whole neighbourhood should be engaged in a violent squabble had not only been the subject of endless gossip but it had even resulted in references being made to it in the newspapers.

The latest had just infuriated the Duke of Northallerton who had a contempt for what he termed ‘the gutter press’ and thought that the only justification for any decent Nobleman to appear in print was on the occasions of his birth and his death.

Because of the enmity in the district known as ‘the Dukery’, Elfa and her sister Caroline had suffered in that they were never invited to any of the parties that took place in Chester Hall, the residence of the Duke of Lynchester.

This had not worried them when they were children for there were a great many other neighbours who were glad to entertain them.

But now that Caroline was grown up and Elfa was to make her debut this year, it was infuriating to know that the new Duke, who had inherited two years ago, gave large parties of every sort and description from which they were always excluded.

“You would not enjoy the parties anyway,” the Duchess had said positively when they complained to their mother. “The Duke’s friends are very much older and more sophisticated than you are and you would feel out of place amongst them.”

The way she spoke in a somewhat repressed manner told Elfa at once that her mother disapproved of the Duke’s friends.

Yet she could not help thinking that they would be more amusing and more interesting than the elderly hunting Squires and County dignitaries who were often at Allerton Towers.

Although Caroline had now ceased to be interested in the Duke, Elfa used to see him occasionally in the distance when she was out hunting and thought that he looked exactly as a Duke should.

She was therefore listening intently as her mother asked,

“What have you done about the land, Arthur? I am tired of hearing about it and I should have thought the most sensible thing would be for you and the Duke of Lynchester to divide it between you.”

“You never listen to anything I say, Elizabeth!” her husband roared. “If I have told you once, I have told you over and over again that, when the late Duke suggested it to my father, he categorically refused to even consider such an idea. He said that the land was his and he was damned if he would give it up even if he was down to his last penny piece!”

The Duchess sighed.

“I had forgotten that, Arthur.”

“Well, you must remember arguments about it. Lynchester always insinuated that my father won it off him at cards when he was too drunk to know what he was doing. All I can say is that, if a man gambles when he is in that condition, he deserves all he gets!”

The Duchess sighed again.

She had heard all this dozens of times before. In fact she could not remember any time during her marriage when the subject of the land that lay between the two Ducal estates had not somehow crept into the conversation.

The whole problem was that the ten thousand acres of Magnus Croft had been some of the best shooting land on the Lynchester Estate and its woods held more pheasants than any of the Allerton coverts.

She knew now she thought of it that the present Duke had started as soon as he inherited to try to persuade her husband to allow him to buy back the land that had belonged to the Lynchesters for centuries.

The Duke of Northallerton was not particularly short of money and also Magnus Croft was on the extreme edge of his estate and therefore difficult to farm.

But he had no intention of relinquishing what was undoubtedly his by right.

The new Duke of Lynchester was, however, known for his determination.

“I have not told you because you never listen,” the Duke went on, “that Lynchester has been at me about this land every time we meet in White’s Club and at every County meeting we both attend. He even approached me on the matter in the hunting field, which is not a place where I would wish to do business.”

“No, of course not,” the Duchess agreed meekly.

“Then today,” the Duke went on, “when Lynchester started again after we had discussed the temerity of that new fellow wanting to start another pack of hounds, I had an idea.”

“What is it, Arthur?” the Duchess asked as her husband paused for breath.

As she spoke, she glanced at the sunshine outside and hoped she could soon get back to the garden. It was an ideal day for bedding out and she was already late with the plants she had been keeping in the greenhouse until they had grown strong enough to be outside.

“I replied to Lynchester,” the Duke said, ‘“I think these arguments between us have gone on long enough. What I suggest is that we should share the land in a very different way’.”

‘“What do you mean by that?’ he enquired.

‘“If you marry my daughter,’ I said, “she can have Magnus Croft as part of her dowry’.”

The Duchess gave a little gasp.

“You suggested he should marry Caroline? Arthur, how could you do such a thing?”

“I thought it extremely astute of me,” the Duke answered. “Everybody has been saying that at thirty-four the Duke should be married and produce an heir and what could be more logical than for Caroline to become his wife?”

“But, Arthur, she is in love with Edward Dalkirk, as you well know.”

“The fellow has not a single penny to his name!” the Duke retorted, “and Lynchester is undoubtedly the biggest matrimonial catch in the whole country.”

“But, Arthur, you promised Caroline that, if Edward could make a big success with his horses, you would permit them to be married.”

“I did not promise,” the Duke said loftily, “I merely said that I would consider it and now my answer is ‘no!’ Caroline will marry Lynchester and the land will be part of the marriage settlement. She will make a very beautiful Duchess and will show the Lynchester diamonds to their advantage.”

The Duke’s rather hard voice had now softened a little.

He had never disguised the fact that his elder daughter Caroline was his favourite child.

Although he was proud of his two sons, who were at Eton, it was Caroline who filled his heart, if he had one, and she had managed without much difficulty to coax him into saying that she could marry the man she loved.

“But, Arthur!” the Duchess protested, “Caroline is in love!”

“Love! Love!” the Duke said contemptuously. “What has that to do with it? Love comes after marriage, Elizabeth, and Lynchester is not likely to spend very much time with his wife, we all know where his interests lie.”

“Really, Arthur, I do not know how you can say such a thing – ” the Duchess began.

“Now, Elizabeth, be sensible,” the Duke interrupted. “Lynchester has been pursued by every pretty woman from here to the North Pole ever since he left school but, as you are well aware, all of them, smart, sophisticated and experienced, are married and he is not likely to cause a scandal by running off with one of them.”

“But, why Caroline?” the Duchess exclaimed plaintively.

“Must I put it into words of two syllables?” the Duke asked. “Because he wants Magnus Croft and if he has to marry sooner or later, which he must, what could be more suitable than to take a wife who can bring him a dowry he would really appreciate? Ten thousand acres of good land that his father lost because he was too drunk to hold his cards straight and that he badly wants and is determined to recover.”

“I suppose you realise that Caroline will be broken-hearted?” the Duchess pointed out.

The Duke made a sound that was almost a snort.

“She will get over it,” he replied sharply. “Young girls always fancy themselves to be in love with somebody unsuitable and that is what Edward Dalkirk is in my opinion.”

“You have never thought so until now.”

“Whether I did or not is quite immaterial,” the Duke said angrily, “Caroline will marry Lynchester and you will persuade her not to make a fuss, but to obey me in this matter. I have no intention of changing my mind.”

“But – Arthur – !” the Duchess began.

“That is my final word!” the Duke interrupted before she could say any more, “and, as Lynchester is coming over tomorrow afternoon, you had better tell her today what to expect.”

“But – Arthur – !” the Duchess began again.

There was the sound of the library door closing sharply and the Duke had gone.

Elfa did not move. She had lain rigid on the floor of the balcony ever since her father had begun to speak.

She felt as if she had been holding her breath for the whole time and that only when she heard her mother also leave the room was she now gasping for air.

Could it be possible that her father had arranged anything so cruel and utterly diabolical?

She knew that if she had not heard what had been said with her own ears that she would never have believed it.

Stiffly she rose to her feet, put the book that she had been reading back on the shelf and hurried down the twisting brass steps to the floor.

Then she started to run as swiftly as she could out of the library and then down a long passage, which led not to the magnificent front hall with its marble floor and statues but to a side staircase.

This led up to the second floor where the two girls slept and where what had been their schoolroom had now after the departure of Elfa’s Governess been converted into their own special sitting room.

Elfa was breathless by the time she reached the door and she paused for a moment not only to get back her breath but also to collect her thoughts.

How could she tell Caroline? What could she say?

She realised as she opened the door that she was like the messenger of doom in a Greek tragedy.

*

“I – cannot! I cannot – lose – Edward,” Caroline repeated for the one hundredth time.

Even as tears were running down her face, her sister thought that she still looked lovely and no man, not even the Duke of Lynchester for all his smart sophisticated women, could fail to find her attractive.

“I know, dearest,” Elfa said, “but Papa is determined and I cannot think for the moment what we can do to prevent the Duke from offering for you.”

“I can – say ‘no’,” Caroline quavered in a tremulous voice.

“I don’t think he would listen nor would Papa now that he has made up his mind.”

Elfa had tried to break the. news as gently as she could to Caroline.

At first her sister had grown so pale as she spoke that she thought she might faint, then she burst into floods of tears.

Caroline was not a strong character. She was sweet, gentle, very amenable and so lovely that every man who looked at her stopped and looked again.

She was actually, Elfa thought secretly, the very type that the Duke would envisage as his ideal Duchess. She was tall, nearly five feet ten inches, and she had fair hair, the colour of ripening corn, blue eyes and a pink-and-white complexion.

She had never in her whole life caused her parents a moment’s anxiety until she fell in love with Edward Dalkirk.

She was so very much in love with him that no other man existed for her. Any who had wished to court her for her beauty had found it impossible to hold her attention or to make her even aware of their existence and any ideas they had of wooing her soon vanished.

The Duke had nothing against Edward except that he was poor.

He was the one and only son of the Viscount Dalkirk who had a crumbling Castle on an impoverished estate in Scotland and, when he left his Regiment in which he had served with distinction, he decided to try to make a little money by breeding horses.

This ambition was facilitated by the fact that his uncle had left him a house and seven hundred acres on the borders of the Duke of Northallerton’s land, which was how he had met Caroline.

From that moment, as he loved her as deeply as she loved him, he had worked feverishly to make enough money so that he could ask her to be his wife.

Unfortunately breeding the right type of horses from the quality mares he could afford to buy took time and he had not anticipated that he would be able to approach the Duke for at least another year.

“I suppose that you could run away together,” Elfa suggested, “and then hide somewhere where Papa would not find you.”

“In which – case Edward would lose the – money he has – invested in his – horses and we could not afford to find another house to live in. But I cannot marry the – Duke! I must marry – Edward!” Caroline wailed. “I love him! I love – him and I would – die if I had to marry any other man!”

Elfa rose to her feet and walked to the window.

She was very fond of her sister and it hurt her to see her so unhappy.

But while she turned over and over in her mind every argument by which Caroline could try to persuade her father she must marry Edward Dalkirk, Elfa was quite certain that the Duke would not listen to her.

She had always known that he was ambitious for Caroline.

He had been so proud when she was acclaimed a beauty and, looking back, Elfa could remember the expression of personal triumph on his face when Caroline had looked so lovely at her first ball.

It had been two years ago now and she herself was a schoolgirl at the time but she had thought then with a little twist of her lips that, when it was her turn to have a ball, her father would not be proud of her in the same way.

She could understand that the Duke, who had always wanted the child he loved best to shine, would glory in the fact that Caroline could wear a coronet of strawberry leaves and her Social position after the Royal Family would be undoubtedly the most important in England.

Elfa knew that there had always been a rivalry in rank and influence between the two Ducal houses whose lands marched side by side.

The old Duke of Lynchester had been a somewhat dissolute character and so her father had been much more respected and admired in the County which consequently became, to all intents and purposes his Empire.

But the new Duke, who had recently inherited, was different.

He was a friend of the Prince of Wales and, as far as Elfa could gather, the leader of the Social Set in London, which was acclaimed and envied by those who were not shocked by it. And he undoubtedly had an influence that had something Imperial about it.

As she thought of the Duke, this was not surprising.

In the hunting field he stood out not only as a superlative rider to hounds but also as a personality who it was impossible to ignore.

She had never spoken to him, but she was certain that she would find him overbearing and even intimidating and she knew that this would leave Caroline crushed and helpless.

Because Caroline had always been so amenable, it was Elfa, even though she was two years younger, who had been the leader, the instigator of all their pranks and who, if they were punished, protected Caroline by taking all the blame herself.

In a way this was only fair because Caroline had little imagination and it was Elfa who, as her father often pointed out, had too much.

“What can I – do? What – can I do?” Caroline murmured now and she went on crying into a handkerchief that was already soaked with her tears. “I cannot marry the Duke!”

Even when she was crying she still looked lovely, although her nose was now slightly pink and her blue eyes were swimming with tears.

“There must be something,” Elfa muttered almost beneath her breath.

Then she gave a sudden cry.

“I have an idea!”

Caroline did not reply. She just seemed to sink a little lower into her chair and her hands went up once again to her eyes.

Elfa was standing very still.

“It is coming to me,” she said, “I can see it like a picture unfolding in front of my eyes. I can do it! I know I can do it.”

“Do – what?” Caroline asked dully.

“Save you!” Elfa answered.

From marrying the Duke?”

“Yes, from marrying the Duke,” Elfa repeated.

“How? How?” Caroline asked. “I know Papa will not – listen to me and Edward has – no money at the – moment. He told me when I saw him – yesterday that he had to borrow from the Bank to buy those last mares.”

“If Edward borrowed a million pounds,” Elfa remarked, “it would still not save you from being a Duchess.”

“I know – I know, but I don’t – want to be a Duchess! I just want to marry Edward and live in that – dear little house – alone with him.”

Caroline’s voice was almost incoherent and now the tears were running down her cheeks and spilling onto the front of her gown.

“Listen,” Elfa urged. “Listen to me, Caroline.”

She went down on her knees in front of her sister and took her hands in hers.

“I have thought of how I can save you,” she said, “but you have to do, dearest, exactly what I tell you – you promise?”

“I will promise – anything if it means I can marry Edward.”

“Very well,” Elfa nodded. “Now listen to me – ”

*

The Duke of Lynchester watched the Duke of Northallerton’s carriage drive away from his front door. Then he walked across the hall and into the study where he habitually sat.

It was a comfortable well-designed room and, although there were a few books the walls were covered with a magnificent collection of pictures of horses, which he had transferred from various other rooms in the house.

The artists were mainly Stubbs, Sartorius and Herring and had been collected by one of his ancestors. By re-hanging them together the Duke knew he had improved one room in the house out of all recognition and he was determined gradually to bring the others to the same state of perfection.

He was, although he did not admit it to himself, a perfectionist and he liked everything around him to please both his eye and his mind.

It had always annoyed him that Chester House had been left in what he thought was a ‘state of disarrangement’ by his father and doubtless his grandfather before him.

It was an exceedingly impressive building, having been completed in about 1750 and at the time was a model both of Georgian architecture and of Georgian taste, which had been acclaimed by everybody.

The second Duke had been concerned only with women and horses and the third had an obsession for gambling, which had cost the estate a great deal of money and the sad loss of a number of fine pictures.

The gaps caused by their sale had been filled in haphazardly with any picture of about the same size that could be transferred from a less used part of the house. The result was, the present Duke decided, neither artistic nor pleasing.

However, he was now getting things as he wanted and, although the house had certainly acquired a new grace and artistry, he knew when he thought about it that what it lacked was a woman’s touch.

This unfortunately could be achieved only when he had a wife to share the great building with him.

For years he had been determined not to marry, knowing it would interfere with the very amusing life he lived in London and the pleasure he derived from not just one woman but a number.

Now, however, without the prompting of his relatives, he was well aware that it was time he thought for producing children and especially an heir to carry on the succession.

“If you wait much longer, you will be too old to teach your son how to become a game-shot and how to ride,” his grandmother said tartly when last he saw her.

He had not replied and she added,

“It distresses me to think of the Lynchester diamonds shut away in a safe and the pearls doubtless losing their lustre and growing green as they are not worn against a warm skin.”

The Duke had laughed, but he was aware that his grandmother was talking sense.

But when later he thought about it, he had wondered how one set about getting married, when in the Social world in which he reigned as a King in his own right, he seldom, if ever, encountered a young girl.

There were, of course, numbers of debutantes there for the asking, standing beside their chaperones and looking, he thought, dull, gauche and quite beneath his condescension.

At the house parties he gave himself and those he attended, the guests were chosen with particular care and on one primary consideration that they should be entertaining. This, as far as he was concerned, implied two other qualities, they must be alluring and bewitching!

That was certainly what he had found in the sophisticated beauties who looked at him knowingly from under their long eyelashes, pouted their red lips provocatively and made it very clear that they were as willing as he was for a fiery affaire de coeur.

These, the Duke knew, had all the thrill of a sound day’s hunting, a run for his money and the joy of the chase and satisfaction of the kill. It was all most enjoyable and in theory no one was hurt.

This in fact was an assumption that did not always prove true.

The women with whom the Duke engaged himself had a way when he made love to them of not only losing their heads but also their hearts.

He often wondered when he was feeling introspective, why it was when women came to love him so passionately, possessively and demandingly, that invariably after far too short a time he himself became bored and restless.

He wondered why he suddenly ceased to desire them and began to look for a new face and a new interest.

He came to the conclusion that it was because, when he was not making love to them, he began to anticipate exactly what they would say and do, the allurements they would use and the enticements that he had so often met before.

Then all he wanted was to close the door on what had been a short fiery encounter and forget about it.

But in practice it was not as easy as that and women who were in love with him clung, complained and reproached him.

That was what he found boring in the extreme and he sometimes asked himself if it was really worthwhile.

He liked women, he thought, as much as he liked horses and he could not imagine life without either of them.

But he would like also to have children.

Just recently he had been thinking that he would like to teach his son, when he had one, to appreciate the improvements that he had made to Chester Hall.

He would show him how to hunt with the pack of foxhounds of which he was Master and he would certainly start him shooting at an early age so that he would become as outstanding a game-shot as he was himself.

He would also teach him to fish. First the trout in the lake and then he would take him to Scotland where as a boy he would never forget the supreme excitement of catching his first salmon when he had been twelve years of age.

The Duke of Northallerton’s proposition that he should marry his daughter, Caroline, had in a way come like a bombshell. Equally the Duke, when he thought it over, decided it could be a satisfactory solution to the problem that had been perturbing his mind for some time.

He remembered being told that Lady Caroline Allerton was indeed a great beauty and he thought, although he was not sure, that he had noticed her in the hunting field.

Tall, fair and blue-eyed, she would certainly look her best wearing the sapphires, which had been his mother’s favourite set of jewels, and he was sure she would grace the turquoises, which would doubtless match her eyes.

What was more important than anything was that the land called ‘Magnus Croft’ would come back into the possession of the Lynchester estate.

It had always infuriated the Duke that his father should have parted so foolishly with any of their land.

He had only to look at the map in the Estate Office to feel a surge of anger when he saw how the Magnus Croft acres, which dipped right into the estate in the shape of a teapot spout, were coloured green instead of the red that depicted all the rest of his land.

‘Now I am getting things exactly as they should be,’ the Duke told himself.

He wondered what Isobel would think when she heard that he was to be married.

The Countess of Walshingham was his current mistress and he was not yet bored with her.

She was far wittier than the other women he had been involved with in the past years. She made him laugh, which was unusual, even though he was aware that everything she said was at somebody else’s expense.

But the mere fact that she looked so lovely when she was being at her most spiteful and her blue eyes were glinting with venom really added to her charms.

He found too that her fiery response to his love-making was more intense and indeed more demanding than anything he had known for some time.

He knew that he had no wish for the moment to give up the Countess or resist her appeal.

Moreover he told himself that there was no reason now why marriage should interfere with his other interests as long as they were discreetly conducted.

He had every intention of treating his wife with respect and doing nothing to make her embarrassed or even aware that he was unfaithful.

As his wife and a Duchess she was entitled to her place by his side and he knew whether they were at Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle or Chester House, he would see that she was received and treated as befitted her position.

‘She shall have no regrets on that score,’ the Duke decided.

The only difference therefore in his behaviour in the future from what it had been in the past would be that his meetings with Isobel or any other woman who took his fancy would have to be far more discreet.

He would have to be clever to deceive the sharp-eyed gossips who were always ready to make trouble, but he was sure that he could outwit them.

The Duke then sat down at his desk to inspect the pile of letters and invitations that his secretary had put there for his perusal.

As he did so, the door opened.

The Duke looked up with a smile.

“Hello, Harry. I am delighted to see you. I am glad you have arrived early before the rest of the party.”

He rose as he spoke and held out his hand and Harry Sheldon, who was one of his oldest friends, replied,

“I was intending to break your record getting here, but I have to concede my horses are not as good as yours.”

“How long did you take?”

“Two hours, twenty-three minutes.”

“Ten minutes too slow.”

“I know that,” Harry Sheldon replied, “there is no need to rub it in.”

He threw himself down in an armchair, saying as he did so,

“All the same I deserve a glass of champagne and I hope it is cool enough to drink.”

“You insult my household arrangements,” the Duke responded at once.

He walked towards the table in the corner of the room where there was an open bottle of champagne in a gold ice cooler.

“You missed a really good party last night, Silvanus,” Harry Sheldon said. “We dined at White’s and went on to a new ‘House of Pleasure’ that has just opened up in the Haymarket. There were some little lovebirds from France that are the prettiest things you have ever seen. All ‘Ooh-la-la’ and a lot of ‘Oui – Oui!’ I enjoyed myself.”

“You can take me there next week,” the Duke said as he walked across the room with a glass of champagne in his hand. “And by the way, Harry, I am going to be married!”

Harry Sheldon almost dropped the glass of champagne that his friend had just given him.

“Did you say – married?”

The Duke nodded.

“Good God!” Harry exclaimed. “So you have taken the plunge at last! But who the devil to? And why have I not met her?”

“I have not met her myself for that matter,” the Duke answered.

“Are you serious?”

“Completely!”

“Then what are you saying? And who is she?”

“She is the Duke of Northallerton’s daughter. He has just offered her to me together with the ten thousand acres of Magnus Croft.”

“I don’t believe it!”

“It is true.”

“Then you have won!” Harry Sheldon said. “You swore you would get back the land that your father threw away on the turn of a card.”

“Yes, I have won and I believe it is tied up with a rather pretty ribbon. I have been told that Caroline Allerton is a beauty.”

“Caroline Allerton? But you have never met her?”

“Of course not. The Lynchesters have not been on calling terms with the Northallertons since the Duke had refused to hand back the land when my father explained that owing to the influence of alcohol he was not in his right senses when he staked and lost it.”

“Who can blame him?” Harry Sheldon remarked. “A bet is a bet and a point of honour.”

“Exactly!” the Duke said. “At the same time my father thought that the Duke was being unreasonable and cut off all communications except on a strictly official basis.”

“And was it on a strictly official basis that you were offered his daughter?”

“Very strictly,” the Duke replied. “We have a common enemy in the fact that an outsider is attempting to introduce a new pack of foxhounds into the County. There are two packs already, one of which I own, the other in which the Duke of Northallerton has an interest, so you see we had to combine to put the bounder back in the kennels he had emerged from.”

“And the end result of this peculiar partnership is that you decided to marry the Duke’s daughter.”

“He suggested it and, as it seemed to me a sensible arrangement, I agreed.”

Harry threw back his head and laughed.

“Sensible!” he exclaimed. “My dear Silvanus, how can it be sensible to marry a girl you have never seen just because she can bring you some land, which, like Naboth’s vineyard, you have always coveted?”

“And justifiably since the vineyard in question has always belonged to the Lynchester Estate,” the Duke pointed out loftily.

“Damn it all, think of taking a wife on such terms!”

“Why not? She is well-bred, nobody can dispute that, I am told she is a beauty and quite frankly, Harry, I think it is time I married.”

“I have thought that for the last five years,” his friend commented. “It is time you settled down and most of all you need an heir.”

“You might be my grandmother speaking.”

“Your grandmother has a lot of sense, but as an old friend I must warn you that this is not the right way to go about marriage.”

“You speak as an authority of course,” the Duke said mockingly.

“No, but I can tell you one thing, I shall never tie myself to a woman unless I am quite certain I am fond of her and that I can stand her conversation at breakfast.”

“There is no law to say you have to breakfast with your wife,” the Duke protested.

“There is no law that says you have to listen to her,” Harry replied, “but it is something which is inevitable when marriage is concerned.”

The Duke then stood with his back to the fireplace and an expression on his face told his friend that he was being obstinate.

“It is all very well, Harry,” he said, “to carp and find fault, but you and Grandmama are united with a dozen of my other relatives in saying that I should be married.”

“As you should,” Harry murmured.

“But I am not a callow boy who is so likely to fall in love with a pretty face,” the Duke went on, “and I am not so half-baked as to think that a girl straight out of the schoolroom is likely to be amusing or know anything about the subjects that interest me.”

Harry started to speak, but the Duke put out his hand to stop him.

“Let me finish,” he said. “I have thought this out carefully. As I have no wish to have a wife who is promiscuous, I am obliged to marry somebody young. I shall hope that she is intelligent enough to make herself pleasant not only to me but to my friends and, if she has been well brought up, she will grace the end of my table and learn with few mistakes to be a good hostess.”

“I accept all that,” Harry said, “but what about when you are alone together?”

There was a faint smile on the Duke’s face as he replied,

“There, I admit, you do have a point. But why should I be alone except on very rare occasions?”

He walked across the room before he went on,

“In the old days, as you are well aware, in a house of this size there lived not only the Duke and the Duchess or before my great-grandfather received the title, the Marquis and the Marchioness of Chester.”

He smiled slightly as he continued,

“There were their children, relatives, grandmothers, great-aunts, cousins, old friends, a Chaplain, Nannies, Governesses and Tutors. In fact the house was always filled with people, apart from the guests who one learns from the diaries of the time were entertained with lavish hospitality all through the year.”

Harry laughed.

“So that is the sort of life you are planning, that of a Paterfamilias or should I say a King in a Court of his own? I hope I shall be invited to be the Court Jester.”

“Could you be anything else?” the Duke asked. “But seriously, Harry, you see the idea?”

“Of course I see it and I hope your cardboard Duchess is exactly what you expect her to be, a puppet on strings that you pull and that, when you pull them, she will dance until you walk away and ignore her.”

“Stop preaching at me,” the Duke ordered. “You know as well as I do that this has been a traditional way of living since the age of Elizabeth when the first Chester built a house here and invited the Queen to stay.”

“Did she come?”

“Of course and he spent an exorbitant amount of money in entertaining her.”

“Well, you cannot invite the Queen, for who would want The Widow of Windsor? But the Prince of Wales will undoubtedly enjoy your parties and so, of course, will – Isobel.”

There was something in the way that Harry referred to the Countess that made the Duke realise that he was asking a question.

“Yes, and so will Isobel,” he repeated slowly, looking his friend straight in the eyes.

“Then I can only really hope for her sake that your Duchess is half-wilted,” Harry said. “Otherwise she will be seared by Isobel’s tongue, tortured by her innuendos and undoubtedly, unless you prevent it, be reduced to tears within five minutes of Isobel entering the house.”

“I can control Isobel,” the Duke replied, “and I shall not allow her to do anything of the sort.”

“I wonder if you will be able to prevent her. She will be like a lioness defending her mate against all comers and your wife will hardly have a fair chance when it comes to a fight with claws.”

“It will not come to that,” the Duke said sharply, “and anyway, I will see that everybody, including you, treats my wife with respect.”

“I have always thought the words ‘respect’ with ‘duty’, ‘obligation’ and ‘responsibility’ are words that are of unutterable dullness. If your wife has any spirit in her she will want a great deal more than respect.”

“Shut up, Harry!” the Duke ordered. “You are trying to make me regret that I accepted the Duke of Northallerton’s offer and tomorrow I am going to The Towers to ask his daughter formally for her hand in marriage.”

Harry Sheldon did not answer and after a moment the Duke went on,

“Dammit, what is the alternative? You want me to marry. I have been nagged about it for years and now you are trying to put obstacles in my way. If I don’t marry Caroline Allerton, it will be some other unfledged schoolgirl.”

There was silence for a moment.

Then Harry said,

“But, of course, nobody else can offer you so much land.”

“Nobody. And whatever happens future generations of Chesters will undoubtedly bless me for the sacrifice I am making on their behalf.”

“Sacrifice? That is the right word!” Harry said. “Or shall I say that you are selling your freedom for a ‘mess of pottage’?”

“For ten thousand acres,” the Duke corrected him laconically.

“I have a feeling,” Harry said prophetically, “that you will be paying one way or another for every acre one by one.”

The Duke laughed.

“If I have any more of your gloomy predictions, I shall send you right back to London,” he said. “What you need is another glass of champagne! Oh, and I have forgotten to tell you, amongst my other guests there will be the delectable Marguerite who is arriving this evening especially for you.”

Harry Sheldon sat up and there was a sudden light in his eyes.

“She has accepted?”

“With alacrity!” the Duke replied, “and, hold your breath, she is coming alone. James is unfortunately detained on duty at Buckingham Palace.”

Harry Sheldon made a sound of undisguised exaltation.

“Silvanus, you are a Trojan! You have brought a new light and laughter into my life and one day I shall do the same for you.”

“I will hold you to that,” the Duke said. “God knows, if I am to become a married man, I may well need your help.”