Seek the Stars

by Barbara Cartland

  “Then can I go to him now?” Sadira asked her.

  “Not until I have spoken to you,” the Marchioness insisted.

  She had closed the door behind her when she entered and now she walked across the room to stand in the window near to Sadira.

  There was silence.

  Then, as Sadira looked questioningly at her stepmother, the Marchioness began,

  “Later this morning the Earl of Kensall will be calling on your father to ask if you and he can announce your engagement.”

  Sadira looked at her stepmother in sheer astonishment.

  “What are you – saying?” she asked. “Whatever are you – talking about?”

  “I am telling you,” the Marchioness replied, “that you are to marry the Earl of Kensall.”

  Sadira drew in her breath.

  “I will do nothing of the sort! I am not a fool, Stepmama! I know quite well that he has been seeing you almost every night that Papa has been away.”

  “You may know that,” the Marchioness said coldly, “but you will not repeat it to your father. You will tell him that you are delighted by the Earl’s attentions and thrilled to be his wife.”

  “I think you must be crazy!” Sadira expostulated. “I have no wish to marry the Earl – in fact I would not marry him under any circumstances.”

  There was now a pause in the conversation and she was trying to speak without being offensively rude to her stepmother.

  The Marchioness walked to an armchair and sat down wearily.

  “Now, listen to me,” she ordered. “Your father reviled me last night because of what his detective reported to him while he was away.”

  Sadira pressed her lips together as if she would say something and with an effort she remained silent.

  “I told him,” the Marchioness went on, “that he is entirely mistaken in what he assumed and that the Earl had come here to see you.”

  “That is a lie,” Sadira contended. “And I don’t believe for a moment that Papa could be so stupid as to believe it.”

  “I think I have convinced your father that he is mistaken and you therefore have to bail me out. When the Earl invites you to be his wife, you must accept with pleasure.”

  “Of course I will not!” Sadira fumed. “Do you really think, Stepmama, that I would be willing to marry a man who is infatuated with you?”

  She paused for a minute to glare at the Marchioness.

  “If you want to know the truth, I am greatly shocked at the way you have behaved in my father’s absence.”

  “Whether you are shocked or not,” the Marchioness retorted, “you will do as I say. Otherwise there will be an enormous scandal that will affect you as well as me and distress the whole family.”

  “If there is a scandal, it is all your doing,” Sadira replied, “and I can only say that my mother would never have behaved in the way that you have.”

  The Marchioness leaned back in the chair.

  “Are you saying,” she said slowly, “that you will not support my explanation of what has happened and will refuse to marry the Earl of Kensall?”

  “I will tell Papa the truth,” Sadira persisted defiantly. “Whatever action he decides to take in this matter will be between you and him and so has nothing to do with me.”

  The Marchioness’s eyes narrowed.

  “Very well, if that is your attitude, then I shall make you suffer as I myself will suffer.”

  The way she spoke made Sadira look at her nervously.

  “What are you – saying?” she asked.

  “I remember you telling me when we were last in the country,” the Marchioness said, “that you loved your horse, Swallow, and your dog, Bracken, more than anything else in the world.”

  “What have – they to do with it?” Sadira asked quickly.

  “If you will not help me,” the Marchioness replied, “I will have Swallow taken to a place where you cannot find him and he will be given nothing to eat and nothing to drink until he dies.”

  Sadira gave a cry of horror and her stepmother went on,

  “I will take Bracken to the slums somewhere in the East End and give him to one of those hardened criminals who beat their dogs when they have had too much to drink.”

  “I – don’t believe you!” Sadira cried. “Nobody could be so cruel or – so wicked as to treat – animals in such a way!”

  “You can, of course, save them,” the Marchioness declared coldly. “Otherwise I promise you I shall do what I say and they will suffer as I shall suffer if your father divorces me.”

  Sadira started.

  “Papa intends to – divorce you?” she questioned.

  “That is what he will do,” the Marchioness replied, “unless you convince him that he is wrong in his assumptions and that you are delighted to make a brilliant social marriage to the Earl.”

  Her voice altered as she ranted at Sadira furiously,

  “Don’t be such a silly fool, girl! Every young woman in London has attempted to catch the Earl of Kensall. But he has remained a bachelor despite every effort that has been made to trap him into Matrimony.”

  “And now you think – you have succeeded,” Sadira countered sarcastically.

  “The Earl has accepted the situation and will call on your father some time this morning. If you are going riding, you will return in no more than an hour and, having changed, will be waiting for him.”

  Sadira turned towards the window as if she could not bear to look at her stepmother.

  Then she said in a small voice that was very different from the way she had spoken before,

  “Do I – have to do – this?”

  “There is no alternative,” the Marchioness said. “And make no mistake, if you are not convincing and your father does not believe you, then you will never see Swallow or Bracken again!”

  She paused for breath before she went on,

  “And don’t think you will get away scot-free. If you ruin my life, I will ruin yours. There will be at least a little while before it becomes known what your father is doing.”

  She looked at Sadira to see if she was listening.

  “In the meantime I shall make it my business to inform every hostess in London what you are really like.”

  “What – I am – really like?” Sadira exclaimed in surprise.

  “I will tell them,” the Marchioness continued, dropping her voice, “that your immoral behaviour has upset and distressed your father. That you have had clandestine affairs with the grooms who accompany you out riding and that I have had to dismiss two footmen because you made advances to them.”

  Sadira gave a cry of sheer horror while the Marchioness rattled on,

  “You know as well as I do how such a story would circulate like a wild wind amongst the gossips of Mayfair.”

  She paused a moment and then went on harshly,

  “You may deny it, you may try to live it down, but it will be repeated and repeated until, like your animals, you are in the grave!”

  She almost spat the words at Sadira.

  There was silence as Sadira looked out of the window with unseeing eyes.

  The Marchioness rose to her feet.

  “I am not making idle threats,” she stressed. “My future life depends entirely on you, just as the lives of your horse and dog do.”

  There was no reply from Sadira.

  Knowing that she had won the battle, the Marchioness flounced out of the room.

  In her own bedroom she powdered her face until she looked very pale and then she deliberately drew a dark line under her eyes where none had been naturally.

  She then changed from the dark gown that she had worn to go to the Church into one that was frilly and feminine.

  It took her some time and, when she looked at the clock, she knew that the Marquis would now be dressing himself.

  She went to his room and, after she had knocked on the door, it was opened by his valet.

  The Marchioness passed by the man without speaking and he t
actfully went into the corridor closing the door behind him.

  Inside the room the Marchioness stood with her back to the door.

  Her husband was dressed with the exception of his coat and he was brushing back the sides of his hair as he stood in front of the mirror.

  It was going white and there was a bald patch on the back of his head.

  He did not turn round and, when the Marchioness did not speak, he asked her in a hard voice,

  “What do you want?”

  “I – came,” the Marchioness replied in a soft childlike voice, “to see if – you are still – angry with – m-me.”

  “What do you expect?” her husband replied.

  “I-I have been – crying all night – because you did not – believe me.”

  “I am not a fool,” the Marquis said, “and I have the evidence here to show me exactly how you behaved after I left to go to France.”

  “That is what – you said – last night,” the Marchioness replied, “but I told you the truth – only you – refuse to believe me.”

  “As I said, I am not a fool,” the Marquis answered.

  The Marchioness came a little nearer to him.

  “Please, Arthur, please – talk to Sadira and, of course, to the Earl of Kensall before you accuse me in this – way.”

  The Marquis put down his hairbrushes.

  “Where is Sadira?” he asked. “Why has she not come to see me?”

  “She wanted to, but was told that you were asleep and so went riding,” the Marchioness said. “But she will be back in a short time and then you will know that I am telling – you the – truth.”

  She gave a little sob that was very effective.

  “I love – you – I have always – loved you! How can you think I would look at any other man – except you?”

  Her voice broke on the last words.

  As if she could control her tears no longer, she turned and ran from the room.

  She left the door open behind her so that the Marquis could hear her running down the corridor.

  He sighed and picked up the detective’s report. It was lying on the top of the chest of drawers. Putting it into his pocket, he walked slowly and heavily down the stairs to his study.

  There was a large amount of paperwork waiting for him on his desk and, although he sat down in his comfortable writing chair, he did not touch any of it.

  Instead he stared ahead with the eyes of a man who has received a body blow and finds it hard to bear the agony and humiliation of it.

  *

  The Earl of Kensall arrived at Langbourne House at exactly eleven o’clock.

  It was just a short distance from his own house in Park Lane and, because it was a formal occasion, he travelled in one of his modern carriages.

  He was dressed formally as well.

  He told himself mockingly that he might be making a friendly call on the Marquis rather than going to his execution.

  He could imagine nothing more appalling than being forced into Matrimony with a girl he had hardly seen or spoken to.

  She would doubtless be fully aware that he was the lover of her stepmother.

  If she was not aware of it, then she must be half-witted and indeed he suspected that most debutantes were.

  He would therefore probably find her incredibly boring for the rest of his life.

  As his horses swept him down the street, he tried to think of any possible way out of this appalling situation.

  He carefully thought through all the possible solutions to his deadly dilemma and he could, however, find no sensible alternative to the Marchioness’s devilish scheme.

  Even to think of the horror of being subjected to protracted divorce proceedings made him shudder.

  He could easily imagine how shocked all his relatives would be and his enemies would laugh heartily and claim that he had received his ‘just deserts’.

  Those who had always been jealous of him would be able to crow loudly in their pleasure at his predicament.

  To live abroad would be, he recognised, a Hell on earth. How could he leave his estates, his racehorses, his hunters, his Clubs and all his friends?

  He reached Langbourne House in plenty of time and looked at the pillared front door that he had entered surreptitiously so many times in the past few weeks.

  As he did so, he knew that he hated Daphne Langbourne.

  She herself had enticed him into the ignominious position that he now found himself in.

  There was only one possible way that he could extricate himself and that was if he could lie convincingly enough to deceive the Marquis.

  The shame and indignity of it all was almost too dreadful to comprehend.

  He wanted to shout out to his footman, who had now jumped down to the pavement, that he had changed his mind and his carriage would drive on.

  But then he would have no other recourse and the Marquis would surely go ahead with the divorce proceedings as he had threatened.

  It might take many months and the gossips would talk of nothing else all over London, but the end was looming up at him inevitably.

  And he would be exiled from everything that really mattered to him in his life.

  His footman ran up the steps and rang the bell.

  The door was then opened immediately, which told the Earl that he was most definitely expected.

  Feeling that every step took him nearer to the guillotine, he descended from his carriage and walked into the hall.

  “Good morning, my Lord,” the butler greeted him respectfully.

  With an effort the Earl forced himself to reply.

  Without being asked whom he wished to see, which showed that Daphne had given her orders to the butler, he was led down the corridor to the study, which was a room that he knew well.

  Daphne had always waited for him in the drawing room, which was a perfect frame for her beauty. Or else in her bedroom.

  She had given him a key so that he could let himself into the house without, she believed, the servants being aware of it.

  Now the Earl thought rather belatedly that it would have been wiser if she had let him in, perhaps through the garden gate at the back of the house.

  The detective who had been watching him had obviously seen him enter and leave by the front door when everybody else in the house was supposedly asleep.

  Now the butler opened the door of the study.

  As he did so, the Earl thought that there was so much evidence against him that nothing he could say would make the Marquis believe anything but the truth.

  As he entered, the Marquis rose from behind his desk.

  At a quick glance the Earl thought that he was looking particularly aggressive.

  He had also aged considerably since he had last seen him only a few weeks earlier and there were now deeply etched lines on his face that had not been there previously.

  He could not help being aware that the older man was suffering considerably.

  Only the Earl’s strong self-control and the fact that he was virtually fighting for his life made him appear to be at ease as he faced the Marquis.

  In what appeared to be a friendly and normal tone of voice he started the conversation that he had been dreading,

  “Good morning, my Lord. It’s good to see you back in London again and I feel sure that your mission to Paris has been as successful as the Prime Minister had hoped.”

  The Marquis moved from his desk to stand in front of the fireplace.

  “I understand you wanted to see me, Kensall,” he responded harshly.

  “Yes, indeed,” the Earl replied. “I have come to ask you for your permission to marry – Sadira.”

  There was a distinct pause before he enunciated the last word as for one rather terrifying moment the Earl in his anxiety had forgotten the girl’s name!

  The Marquis looked at him sharply.

  “This surely is somewhat unexpected?”

  “Not really. I fell in love with Sadira as soon as I saw her and we
have been seeing each other every day while you have been awayin France.”

  He forced a somewhat crooked smile to his lips before he added,

  “I think we will be very happy together, as we both have a passion for horses, which is a deep bond in common.”

  The Marquis then moved from where he had been standing in front of the fireplace and walked slowly across the room to the window.

  With his back to the Earl he said as if he was carefully thinking out every word,

  “Sadira is very young. It seems strange, in view of your reputation, that you should be interested in a girl who knows nothing of the Social world that you move around in.”

  “I can understand your point of view,” the Earl said, “but surely you realise, my Lord, that what a man looks for in a wife is very different from what he finds enjoyable as a bachelor?”

  There was a long silence and then the Marquis turned from the window.

  “Is what you are saying to me the truth, Kensall?” he enquired. “Are you really in love with Sadira and will you make her the sort of husband that I would want for my daughter’s future happiness?”

  The Earl raised his eyebrows as if he was surprised by the Marquis’s question.

  “I cannot imagine, my Lord, why you should suspect that I am telling you anything but the truth,” he answered, “or why you should question my desire to make your daughter my wife.”

  He thought as he spoke that he was being rather subtle in taking the initiative.

  It was better than maintaining a somewhat defensive role as he sensed that the Marquis was fighting a strong desire to accuse him outright of having seduced his wife.

  He was therefore determined that, if it was at all possible, such words would not be spoken as it would open up a chasm that Daphne and he would fall straight into.

  “What I am asking,” he resumed briskly, “is that you will allow us to announce our engagement and plan our Wedding for later in the year.”

  He paused for a moment to clear his throat and then continued,

  “I realise that Sadira is very young and I would not want to deprive her of attending the many balls that are taking place during the Season.”

  He gave a short laugh and added,

  “She is entitled to them, although I must say they bore me. But we want to be together and, of course, it is easy while we are both in London.”