Love in the Highlands

by Barbara Cartland

So she allowed Stanislaus to lead her away to the long, elegant supper table, where she was to sit next to him.

  She was acutely conscious that all eyes were on her. Everybody here knew what the Queen wanted, and knew, also, how determined she could be in pursuit of her own way.

  Lavina supposed that another woman might be honoured at the distinguishing attention from a Prince. He devoted himself to her, hanging on her every word as though his life depended on it.

  But she could not feel honoured. Even if this man had not threatened all she held dear, he would have been horrible to her. His flattery was not quite right. It was a performance, and he lacked the skill to make it appear real, so that everything was a travesty.

  But what was worse than anything was the fact that, at this distance, her worst fears were confirmed.

  Prince Stanislaus did not wash.

  He tried to smother the odour of stale sweat with a cologne, but the two intermingled to make a smell that was even worse.

  He chattered ceaselessly about his country, while Lavina tried to stay out of range of his foul breath.

  He told her how delighted she would be with Kadradtz, how she would admire the palace, how the people would love her, and she would love them.

  "And the Russians massed on your border?" she enquired sweetly. "Shall I be expected to love them too?"

  He was also stupid, for he laughed merrily.

  "What Russians? Where do you hear such stories? There are no Russians on the border."

  Unfortunately for him there was a lull in the talk at that moment, so that his voice carried all along the table.

  The lull turned to shocked silence. All eyes turned from Stanislaus to the Queen, who was looking daggers at her guest of honour.

  Lavina took advantage of the silence to say sweetly,

  "I am delighted to hear Your Royal Highness say so. I shall know now that we do not need to feel any concern for you."

  Stanislaus' eyes became glassy and he realised that he had made a faux pas.

  The silence seemed to stretch on, with nobody quite knowing how to end it.

  The Queen spoke.

  "Prince Stanislaus made a most witty observation the other day – "

  She repeated the 'witty observation', a dire piece of drivel which fell among the company like a piece of lead. Nonetheless, everyone roared with laughter.

  In the relief, Lavina met her father's eye, and saw him wink at her. Then her searching eyes found the Marquis. He was regarding her with a curious little smile, and shook his head as if to say, "Well done!"

  So far, so good, Lavina thought. Surely she could get through the rest of the evening?

  But worse was to come. As soon as supper was over the Queen announced 'an impromptu dance'. Footmen then made a great play of rolling back carpets, and a pianist sat down at the piano.

  "She does this sometimes at Windsor," the Earl groaned. "We're all supposed to think how wonderful and spontaneous it is, and everybody hates it."

  "And it's so artificial," Lavina protested. "'Impromptu' indeed!"

  "You're not going to escape lightly, I'm afraid," the Earl sighed.

  "Well, at least it will give me the chance to make myself plain to Her Majesty," Lavina seethed.

  So when the Queen summoned her to sit beside her on the dais, Lavina marched up to her seat, her face set and determined.

  "You know why I have sent for you," declared the Queen.

  "Yes, ma'am, I do. You wish me to marry Prince Stanislaus, but I regret I am unable to oblige, being already betrothed."

  "Nonsense!" The single word dropped from the Queen's lips like a drop of ice.

  "You will do your duty," she declared.

  "But what duty?" Lavina asked. "You yourself heard Prince Stanislaus say that he no longer feared the Russians."

  Queen Victoria made a noise of contempt.

  "The man is a fool," she declared.

  "Then how can you want me to marry him?"

  "Because it has nothing to do with the matter. Were he ten times a fool, which – between ourselves, I sometimes think he is – your duty would still be plain."

  "I intend to do my duty," Lavina returned, "my duty to Lord Elswick, my promised husband."

  The Queen's eyes flashed fire. She was not used to being defied.

  "We all have to make sacrifices," she said. "I have had to make many sacrifices in my life."

  "But you married the man you loved," Lavina pointed out.

  For a moment the Queen's face softened.

  "That is true," she murmured. "I was more fortunate than you."

  "No ma'am," Lavina said firmly. "I intend to be just as fortunate."

  For a moment the anger faded from the Queen's face.

  "You love him?" she asked. "Lord Elswick? Tell me the truth."

  For a moment Lavina hesitated, then she told the truth.

  "Yes ma'am. I love him."

  "As a wife loves the man at whose side she wishes to pass her life?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Have you any idea of the closeness of marriage?"

  Lavina blushed.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "And you wish to share that closeness with this man?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Inwardly Lavina was rejoicing, for surely now the Queen would relent.

  The next moment her hopes were cruelly dashed as Victoria said,

  "Then I pity you, for your duty is clear. I have promised Prince Stanislaus that you will marry him, and my promise must be kept."

  Lavina gasped with outrage.

  "You promised him without a word to me? You had no right."

  "Young woman, remember to whom you are speaking. As sovereign, I had every right."

  "You had no right at all to promise me to a man who doesn't wash. How would you like it?"

  "I should not have liked it at all, but if it had been my duty, I should unhesitatingly have done so."

  "Then Your Majesty is made of sterner stuff than I. I will not do it."

  "You will do as I say!"

  "No, ma'am, I will not."

  The Queen regarded her in sulphurous silence.

  The Marquis appeared at the foot of the dais, bowing to his monarch, and saying,

  "Forgive me, ma'am, for being a too possessive fiancé, but as Lady Lavina is my future wife, I do not like to be apart from her for long."

  "You will have to bear yourself in patience a little longer," the Queen declared coldly. "Prince Stanislaus is my guest of honour, and I have promised him an opportunity to dance with Lady Lavina."

  "Certainly," Lavina said, rising to her feet. "That will give me another chance to make my position plain to him."

  She descended to the foot of the dais, turning to curtsey to the furious Queen. Etiquette demanded that she wait until Her Majesty gave her permission to depart, but having gone so far she felt brave enough for anything. Queen Victoria could hardly be angrier with her than she was already.

  Prince Stanislaus was bearing down on her, his arms opened to seize her.

  "Are you all right?" the Marquis asked.

  "Yes, thank you," she said crisply. "I think I shall manage this very well."

  She had defeated a Queen. In her present mood, a Prince would present no problem.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lavina faced Prince Stanislaus with her head up, allowing him to fit his arms about her and take her onto the dance floor.

  She moved correctly, but stiffly, holding herself like a ramrod, until he complained.

  "You might be a little more accommodating."

  "I am doing my duty Your Royal Highness."

  "Well, it's a very bleak business if that's all you're doing," he snapped.

  "My duty is all I am required to do," she informed him coolly.

  Stanislaus grimaced, but said no more for a few moments. Meanwhile, as he danced, he tried to hold her closer and closer, efforts which were largely defeated by her stiffness.

  "Now, come along, this wi
ll never do," he said at last in a wheedling tone. "You really must make some effort to get along with me. I'm very willing to get along with you. I think you're pretty and charming, and will grace the throne of Kadradtz."

  When she set her mouth and stubbornly refused to answer, he persisted,

  "It is the Queen's wish, and you must obey your Queen, you know."

  "Does everybody obey you in your country?" she asked.

  "Certainly they do, otherwise I devise horrible tortures for them."

  "What a delightful place!"

  "It is the most delightful place in the world," he agreed, too stupid to detect her irony. "You will love it."

  "I will not love it, for I will never see it. In fact I wish never to see you again."

  "Since we are to be married, that will hardly be possible," he said, smiling.

  "I am not going to marry you. I have just told Her Majesty so."

  "And she has told me that you are."

  "I think my fiancé might have something to say about that," she said, emboldened by the discovery that the Marquis had them under observation the whole time, frequently moving his position so that he never lost sight of her.

  "Oh, be hanged to him!" Stanislaus said impatiently. "I'm tired of all this rubbish about fiancés. It's time we had a private talk."

  They were near a large set of French windows that opened onto a broad terrace. Suddenly Stanislaus' tightened his grip and began whirling her in the direction of the open windows.

  Lavina tried to resist but he was too strong for her. She could feel everything slipping out of her control, and her fear began to rise.

  But then Stanislaus came to an abrupt halt, uttering a violent curse.

  "Get out of my way," he snapped.

  "No," said the Marquis, standing, immobile, in the window.

  "I said get out of my way."

  The Marquis spoke so quietly that only the three of them could hear.

  "You deserve to be knocked senseless, and if you do not release her at once, I will do it myself."

  He leaned closer, and spoke more quietly still, in a voice of such cold menace that Lavina was startled.

  "You don't really doubt me, do you? You know damned well that I'll do it. Now release her before you feel my fist."

  It would be too much to say that Stanislaus released Lavina, but he was so stunned that he froze, and she was able to slip from his grasp.

  The Marquis took advantage of the moment to put his arm firmly around her waist.

  "You are looking pale, my love," he said, in a voice loud enough to be heard. "I feel sure you are affected by the heat."

  "Yes – yes – " she gasped, playing up to him by putting her hand to her head and swaying.

  Half guiding, half carrying her the Marquis made his way over to the Queen, followed by Lord Ringwood, who had seen everything.

  "Your Majesty," he said smoothly, "my fiancée is feeling unwell and, with your gracious permission, we will depart before she is quite overcome."

  The Queen's face was sour with temper and she looked as though she would give anything to refuse permission. But there was nothing she could do. She gave a curt nod.

  Instantly the Marquis swept Lavina up in his arms and marched out of the hall, followed by the Earl.

  Lavina clung to him. She was not fainting, but she had her wits sufficiently about her to assume a swooning position, at least until they were safely in the carriage.

  "Lavina," he said.

  She realised that she was still clinging to him tightly, her eyes closed.

  She opened them, and found him looking directly into her face with a serious, troubled expression.

  "Lavina," he said again. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes," she said, disengaging herself and feeling glad that the darkness hid her blushes.

  He released her and she sank back against the upholstery.

  "I'm so glad that's over," she said. "I couldn't have endured him another moment. Thank you, thank you for coming to my rescue. I'm afraid it will have made the Queen very angry with you."

  The Marquis' only response to this was a shrug.

  "I, too, am overwhelmed with gratitude – " the Earl began to say, but Lord Elswick interrupted him, almost rudely.

  "My dear sir, think nothing of it."

  "But – "

  "I would be grateful if you would say no more."

  The Marquis sounded almost angry.

  For the rest of the journey he did not speak, but sat, isolated in the far corner of the carriage, staring out of the window into the darkness.

  Lavina would have liked to reach out to him, and beg him to share his feelings with her, but he seemed to have withdrawn into a far place, where he would not allow her to follow.

  Later that night, lying in her bed, she recalled other aspects of the evening.

  When she thought of the conversation between herself

  and the Queen she could only be thankful that she was alone, with darkness to cover her burning cheeks.

  She had said bluntly that she loved Lord Elswick.

  She had spoken in a temper, but now, forced to be honest with herself, she knew that it was true.

  She had given her love to a man who did not love her. He had kissed her, but more out of anger than passion. And he had never given her any reason to believe that he was moved by tender emotions towards her.

  He was saving her, yet he was doing so for some reason that she did not understand, and which he would not confide in her.

  And yet she loved him. And when the Queen had asked her if she understood about the closeness of marriage she had thought of Lord Elswick with passion.

  It shamed her to think of it now. How could she feel such things for a man who felt nothing for her?

  Or did he?

  She remembered the way his lips had scorched hers, the trembling she had felt in his body as they embraced.

  Might she not build a little hope on that?

  At last she got out of bed and went restlessly to the window, looking out onto the moonlit scenery. In the brilliant pale blue light the mysterious hills stretched far away.

  Here in Scotland she had seen aspects of the Marquis that she might otherwise never have known. She had seen him tender with music, and tonight, murderous with rage.

  She knew she would have been afraid if he had turned that black countenance on her. And Stanislaus had been afraid. He had met his match, and he knew it.

  "And so have I," she thought. "I too have met my match."

  Then a memory came back to her, of something her father had said when she had just started her first season, and was already a brilliant success.

  Young man had thronged round her, some simply flirting, but others with their hearts in their eyes. But her father had said,

  "Don't take them too seriously, my darling, or be in a rush to marry. Remember you will be marrying for life. Not just for a few weeks in the country enjoying the tennis and the swimming, but for life!"

  "I don't suppose the men I meet for the first time are likely to propose to me," Lavina had said.

  "It's is only a question of time before a man lays his heart at your feet and asks you to become his wife."

  "That will be exciting," Lavina had murmured.

  "Very exciting for the moment," her father had replied. "But you have to remember that he must be a man who will be more important than anyone else, and eventually be the father of your children."

  He had stopped speaking, and then his voice deepened as he went on,

  "However difficult your life will be, you will be his completely and absolutely, for all time. That is why it's important that you do not make up your mind too quickly."

  Lavina remembered saying lightly,

  "But I'm happy with you, Papa. It's so exciting being in London that I don't want to worry about marrying anyone and leaving home."

  "But one day you will want to, when the right man appears and makes you forget everything else. I simply want
you to understand that you will be changing your life, not just for a few minutes, like a dance, or as one might say, a visit to the moon, but for eternity."

  There was a pause before he added,

  "When you marry I want you to marry a man you love and who loves you. Just as your own happiness will rest on his heart, so he will find you the most perfect, the most adorable and the most wonderful woman he has ever met. Only if you both feel like that can you have the happiness which your Mother and I found together."

  Lavina had never forgotten that. It came back to her now as she stood in the moonlit window, and thought of the man who had made her forget everything else.

  "He certainly doesn't think me perfect, adorable and wonderful, as Papa says," she thought.

  "In fact, he isn't really the right man at all," she added, almost crossly. "He's the wrong man in every possible way. So why is it that I can't help loving him? Why does he make me forget all the pleasant, charming men, and think only of him? Why?"

  But the cold moon had no answer for her.

  *

  The next day, Lord Elswick continued in the same, tense manner as the evening before. Sometimes when he looked at Lavina she thought she detected almost a kind of savagery in his eyes.

  Yet he refused to leave her side, even turning down the chance to go fishing to linger in the conservatory while the ladies sewed.

  This astounded Lavina, as she was sure he must feel this was an occupation for bedlam.

  "Be careful not to leave the house," he said.

  "You don't think – ?"

  "I think he'll come calling, yes. And our hostess must deny that you're here."

  To Lady McEwuan he spun a pretty tale of how the

  Prince's ardour had overcome his manners the night before. She was enchanted, and easily agreed to protect her guest.

  Sure enough, Stanislaus arrived half an hour later. Lavina saw him from the window and darted back into the house, encountering the Marquis almost at once.

  "He's here."

  "Don't worry, Lady McEwuan will tell him that you are resting after the excitements of last night. All you need do, is stay out of sight."

  Down below, Lady McEwuan was playing her part with zest. Her delight at greeting a Prince was soon spoiled by his offensive manners, and the smell of pomade that wafted from him.

  He stayed for an hour, refusing all hints to leave, until at last he seemed to accept that he was on a useless errand, scowled and departed.