An Introduction to the Pink Collection

by Barbara Cartland

  “You are really most unwise to speak to me like that you know.”

  “I shall speak as I like. I care nothing for you. I shall never marry you.”

  “You’re not cherishing hopes of marrying Elswick, are you? Oh dear, I do hope he hasn’t deluded you into thinking he cares for you. He’s quite capable of it, simply to keep you compliant.”

  Lavina refused to let her face reveal her inner torment.

  Was that all his kisses had meant – to ensure that she played her part properly? His anger when she had ventured on a mild flirtation – was that simply to ensure that she did not make a fool of him?

  “Anyway,” Stanislaus continued, “I’m sure you’re beginning to understand the reality of the situation now. You’ve been used. Ivan Elswick wanted to revenge himself on me, and you were his tool. Once he knows he’s lost the battle he won’t have any further use for you.”

  Lavina drew in a sharp breath. It was all true, and it hurt unbearably.

  Then she realised that Stanislaus was walking towards her, with a significant leer.

  “So why don’t you try to be a little accommodating? After all, we’re going to be here together for quite a while.”

  He reached for her and she drew back her riding whip to strike him, but he grabbed her hand.

  For a moment they struggled. She was desperate, but he was stronger, and she could feel that in another moment he would overcome her.

  And then she heard an incredible sound.

  The click of a pistol being cocked. Followed a voice of iron,

  “You have one second to release her, or I swear I’ll pull the trigger and damn the consequences.”

  Twisting her head, Lavina nearly gave a cry of joy.

  It was Lord Elswick, holding a pistol to the Prince’s head.

  “You are being very unwise,” Stanislaus began.

  “One second.”

  The Prince released her. Lavina got as far away from him as possible.

  “Thank God!” she gasped.

  “There’s no time for that now,” he grated, glancing at her briefly.

  “Ivan, look out!”

  With a movement that was incredibly lithe, considering his figure, Stanislaus had wriggled free and whipped out a knife.

  With an oath the Marquis turned the pistol so that he was holding the barrel, and brought the butt down on Stanislaus’ head.

  He fell to the floor and lay there groaning, blood pouring down his face.

  “He’s all right,” the Marquis said, seizing Lavina’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  She needed no telling twice, running with him as fast as she could, then outside. There she found a downpour, with the rain coming down so hard that for a moment Lavina was driven back.

  “On your horse,” Lord Elswick said, helping her to mount. “And ride as fast as you can.”

  All she wanted was to get away from here and then to be alone with him, to look into his eyes and see the truth. But she knew that would have to wait.

  At first the trees protected them from the heavy rain, but gradually the wood faded, they were out in the open and the full force of the storm hit them. Rain came down in sheets, alarming the horses and making it hard to see the road ahead.

  “We shall have to find some shelter until the worst has passed,” he said. “I think I passed an inn half a mile along here.”

  They reached the inn, soaked and weary, and were relieved to find that it was open and they could get under cover.

  “The lady needs a private parlour,” the Marquis said at once.

  The landlord bowed her into a small parlour at the back, and instructed a maid to take in some towels.

  When Lavina had finished drying her hair she found that the Marquis had joined her. He pulled off his sodden coat and dried himself off as best he could.

  His damp shirt still stuck to him, his hair was tousled, and he was breathing hard, almost as though he were still fighting.

  The sight made Lavina remember what Stanislaus had said. For the Marquis this was a battle that had already lasted a long time, and it wasn’t over yet.

  “Lavina – ”

  He reached for her, pulling her close, wrapping his arms about her. For a moment her soul rejoiced, but only for a moment. His caresses were poisoned for her now.

  Instead of melting against him, as she longed to do, she stiffened and asked in a hard voice,

  “How did you find me?”

  “You dropped the letter in your room and your maid found it. I guessed who had sent it, and luckily it told me where you’d gone.”

  She wanted to cry out at the thought that he had seen that letter and believed it was from him.

  She was grateful for being rescued, but her spirit was still wretched from what she had discovered. Suddenly she could hardly bear to be with him.

  She pulled back, turning away from him.

  “My dearest – ” he reached for her again.

  “Don’t,” she cried, backing from him. “Don’t call me that. Don’t come near me.”

  “But what is it? Are you angry with me? Did you think I wouldn’t come for you?”

  “Oh to be sure, you had to play out your revenge to the end!” she cried.

  “Darling – ”

  “You should have told me.”

  His face hardened.

  “So Stanislaus has been talking. I dare say he made a good story of it.”

  “I wish you had told me yourself. I felt so foolish to learn the truth from him.”

  “How could I tell you?” he demanded harshly. “You asked for my help and I gave it. I could not speak of my reasons to you then. They were too painful. And why should I think you cared, as long as I did as you asked?”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Yes of course. You are right.” She tried to force herself to speak sensibly. “I am very grateful for everything you have done for me, and now that it’s over I – ”

  “Is it over?”

  “It must surely be over very soon. The Prince will not stay here now. He will retire defeated, and then you will have everything you wanted.”

  “Not quite everything,” he murmured.

  Lavina did not hear him. She was walking around the room, trying to sound composed, hoping desperately that he would not guess she was actually tortured by anguish.

  “You made use of me,” she cried.

  “In the beginning – yes, but that was before we knew each other. Have you not felt what has happened between us? Do I need to say in words that I have fallen in love with you – deeply in love, as I never thought to be again?”

  They were the words she had longed to hear, but now they seemed to have no meaning. In her distraught state nothing reached her clearly.

  Nothing in the world was real, or as it should be. She had fallen into another dimension, the one shown her by Stanislaus, a place of deceit and misery.

  It was like tumbling into the pit of hell, and even a declaration of love from the man she adored reached her sounding like mockery from a grinning devil.

  “Lavina, let us put the past behind us and start again,” he implored. “Let me hear you say that you love me.”

  “No,” she cried hoarsely, “no, get away from me. There can never be anything between us.”

  He stopped and a strange withered look crossed his face.

  “Are you saying that you do not love me? That I have been living in a sweet delusion.”

  “Yes,” she cried, “and so have I. There is nothing in the world but delusion and lies.”

  She barely knew what she was saying or doing, but somehow she had opened the far door of the room. It led into a passage, and she flew down that passage as though escaping demons.

  She wrenched open the back door and fled outside. The wind and rain had dropped now and she ran across the yard, through the back gate, out into the countryside.

  She did not know where she was going. She only knew that she had to get away from him. She could hear his v
oice crying her name, but she only ran harder.

  Suddenly the world was filled with a terrifying sound, like an explosion.

  In the same moment she saw a flash of light just up ahead.

  She stopped, not realising what had happened. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, and there, like a monstrous vision, she saw Prince Stanislaus on horseback, a smoking pistol in his hand, grinning as he turned his horse and galloped away.

  There was more noise behind her, shouting, footsteps running from the inn. In a nightmare she turned and saw the landlord reach the Marquis just as he fell to the ground, an ugly red stain spreading across his chest.

  CHAPTER TEN

  For the rest of her life Lavina never forgot the next few terrible hours.

  For years her dreams were haunted by the memory of running up to the Marquis as he lay bleeding on the ground, throwing herself onto him with a cry of, “Ivan. Oh my love, my love! You must not be dead. You cannot be. Don’t leave me!”

  She put her arms about him and held him to her, sobbing.

  Then some men came running, fetched by the landlord, lifted him and carried him inside to a bedroom.

  The landlord was a kind, sensible man. He dispatched a messenger for the doctor, and another to the McEwuans.

  Luckily the doctor was close by and arrived quickly. He extracted the bullet, and managed to stop the bleeding.

  “It isn’t as bad as it looks,” he said at last. “The bullet did not strike any vital organ. With reasonable luck, he should pull through.”

  Lord Ringwood entered as he said these words, and took hold of his daughter to stop her from fainting with relief.

  “Bear up, my darling,” he said. “All will be well.”

  “I love him, Papa.”

  “I know, my dear,” he said gently. “I’ve always known.”

  “I didn’t know myself.”

  He patted her hand.

  “But I did.”

  “Can he be moved?” Sir Ian asked the doctor.

  He had been at home when the message arrived, and had hurried to the inn with Lord Ringwood.

  “Since your home is so close,” the doctor replied, “I think you can move him that short distance.”

  Another message was sent to fetch the McEwuans’ most comfortable carriage. When Lord Ringwood had thanked the landlord and paid him liberally, they began the short journey back to the McEwuan castle.

  Lavina sat beside the Marquis, holding his hand between both hers. But he sat with his eyes closed with an expression of pain on his white face. And she could not tell if he were aware of her or not.

  It was a relief to see him carried away to his room, and to know that he would be more comfortable.

  Propriety forbade her to follow while he was being undressed, so she stayed with her father, and told him everything that had happened. He was shocked, and when she was finally able to return to the Marquis she left the Earl sunk in deep thought.

  The Marquis had briefly regained consciousness in the inn, but now he sank back. The journey had disturbed him, bringing on a fever. The doctor administered laudanum, which calmed him slightly, but Lavina watched in horror as his eyes grew sunken and his face assumed a deathly pallor.

  As his fever mounted he began to mutter deliriously. She strained to hear the words, but could only make out a few, and they did not make any sense.

  “A spinning top – ” he repeated again and again, “pretty as a spinning top – ”

  For one long, interminable night he repeated these words. Sometimes he would open his eyes and look straight at Lavina, but without any recognition, before closing them again.

  Then, nearing morning, he fell into a troubled sleep. Mercifully his temperature had fallen, but he seemed distant from her, like a man living in another world.

  “If only I knew some way to reach him,” she murmured desperately.

  Then suddenly she had an idea.

  She went quickly out of the room and down the stairs, to find Lady McEwuan.

  “I have come to ask you a great favour,” she said.

  “My dear, anything.”

  “Is there a piano anywhere upstairs?”

  Lady McEwuan stared at her.

  “A piano!” she exclaimed.

  She was about to ask questions. Then she changed her mind and said:

  “There is one in the nursery which the children used until they grew older. I’ve kept it tuned.”

  “Oh thank you, that will be wonderful. May I have it moved?”

  “Of course. Tell the butler what you want, and he will send someone.”

  On Lavina’s instruction the butler had two men carry the piano from the nursery into the passage outside the room where the Marquis was sleeping.

  She crept back into his room. His eyes were half closed and she could not tell if he was awake or sleeping. She slipped out again, leaving the door open.

  In the corridor Lavina sat down at the piano. Then she started to play the soft music she had first heard the Marquis play when they were on the yacht.

  She played the tune which the Marquis himself had played so well, and which she knew meant a great deal to him.

  She played for twenty minutes. Then, very softly, she looked back into the bedroom.

  He lay quite still, his eyes completely closed now, his breathing coming more easily. Whether he was asleep or merely listening, she had no idea.

  For a moment she stood where she was, thinking that he looked somehow at peace and not suffering from pain or fever.

  She returned to the piano and began to play again, some of her own favourite tunes.

  Then once more she played the tune which meant so much to the man she loved.

  Only after quite a long time had passed did she once again look into the room, and tip-toe nearer to the bed.

  His eyes opened and he said very quietly, in a voice she could hardly hear,

  “Thank you, my darling.”

  For a moment Lavina was so astonished that she could only stare down at the Marquis and could not speak.

  Then as he put out his hand very slowly towards her, she slipped hers into it.

  “Do you feel better?” she asked. “Are you in terrible pain?”

  She felt his fingers close over hers and he said,

  “I feel no pain now, for I have been listening to the things you told me through the music.”

  “What – did you hear me tell you?” she asked.

  “You said you were sorry for me, and also that I mean something to you.”

  “Everyone is very worried about you,” Lavina managed to say. “I can only tell you of my feelings by playing on the piano that which I cannot say in words.”

  “And as I listened to you, I began to feel better,” the Marquis said.

  He was speaking in a low voice, almost hesitating between the words. But Lavina could hear every one of them, because she was listening with her heart.

  Her hand was still in his. She felt somehow as if she were giving him the strength he had lost.

  “I have been so frightened for you,” she whispered.

  “When I heard the music, I felt that you were giving me help and strength, and I should soon be well.”

  “Oh yes,” Lavina answered softly. “You must get well. Life is so sad without you.”

  “I want you here, I want you to help me,” the Marquis said. “Please play for me again. Then I will feel strong enough to tell you what I want to say.”

  “Tell me now,” she begged, breathless with hope.

  But his eyes were already closed.

  She took her hand from his, but she had the strange feeling that he released her reluctantly.

  She went into the corridor, and once again played the tunes which she loved herself, and which she felt expressed in music what she felt when she was riding, dancing or just looking at the sun.

  She knew now that her music spoke to the man she loved, and that the things it told him were vital for them both, and the future.
/>
  “You must get well, completely well,” she told him in music. “I love you more than I can ever say, except in this music which seems to come down from heaven and not belong to the world.”

  After a while she thought she would see if he was asleep or awake. She went into the room very quietly and found his eyes closed.

  She knelt beside him, praying that he would soon get well, closing her own eyes as she did so. When she opened them she saw him looking at her.

  As she looked back at him he put out his hand. She put hers into his and felt him hold her hand so firmly that he was almost squeezing it.

  Then he asked quietly,

  “Were you praying for me?”

  “With all my heart,” she replied fervently. “You must get well, for my sake.”

  “Does it matter to you,” he murmured, “if I am well or not?”

  “Of course it does,” she said passionately.

  “I thought you hated me.”

  “No, no I could never hate you.”

  “Promise me that that is true.”

  “It is true, I swear it.”

  She would have said more but he seemed to fall asleep again, and this time it was as though something had brought him peace.

  Her father had crept into the room behind her.

  “Go and get some sleep now, my dear,” he said. “He’ll be better in the morning.”

  That night she slept without dreaming, and woke feeling calmer.

  “He’s better,” said Mrs Banty, without waiting for her first question. “I’ve already been along to find out.”

  Mrs Banty had developed a soft spot for the Marquis.

  “I must go to him,” Lavina said.

  “When you’ve had some breakfast,” Mrs Banty said firmly.

  She went downstairs to be greeted warmly by the whole McEwuan family. Suddenly she was hungry. She had eaten so little recently, and her spirits were rising with hope.

  Suddenly the butler entered, his face grave, for he understood the significance of what he was saying.

  “The Queen’s messenger is here to see Lord Ringwood.”

  “Papa!” Lavina’s hands flew to her mouth.

  “It’s all right, my dear. It will be a reply to the letter I despatched to Her Majesty as soon as I knew what Prince Stanislaus had done.”