Diona and a Dalmatian

by Barbara Cartland

  She knew as he kissed her, and went on kissing her, that she belonged to the Marquis, and her heart, her soul, and her body, if he wanted it, were all his.

  Only when he raised his head did she manage to say,

  “I – love you – and I knew that the love I was – sending to you would bring you to – me.”

  Her words were almost incoherent, and the Marquis did not answer.

  He only kissed her again until she felt as if the lightning flashing within her turned into fire, and flames seemed to flicker through her to touch her lips and meet the fire that was on his.

  Unexpectedly he picked her up again in his arms and lifted her onto the sofa.

  “You have been through so much,” he said, “that I am going to give you something to drink. God knows, we have both earned one!”

  Diona wanted to cry out that she wanted nothing but him, but he had moved away from her.

  He went to the grog tray that stood in a corner of the drawing room, on which she knew by now there was always a bottle of champagne in a silver ice-cooler.

  He poured out two glasses and brought her one.

  Then he sat down on the edge of the sofa to look at her.

  The expression in his grey eyes made her feel rather shy and she was suddenly conscious that she was wearing nothing but a thin nightgown and that while the Marquis had been kissing her the silk shawl had slipped from over her shoulders.

  She tried to pull it a little farther over her and the Marquis smiled.

  “Who would believe that so many fantastic things could happen to so small a person?” he asked.

  “But you came – just in time.”

  “You have to thank Sirius for that.”

  Sirius, who had been lying contentedly on the hearthrug since they had come into the drawing room, heard his name and pricked up his ears.

  “Did he tell you what had happened to me?” Diana asked.

  “He told me very eloquently,” the Marquis answered. “First he woke me by scratching and whining at my door. Then he led me into the garden and I saw that the lock was broken.”

  “ I have tried to teach him to do what I want by thought,” Diona said, “but I was afraid that because I was so desperate he would not understand.”

  The Marquis looked at her questioningly.

  Then, stumbling a little over her words because she was still excited by the Marquis’s kisses, Diona told him what her father had taught her about the transference of thought.

  She explained how all the time the men were carrying her away with a heavy blanket over her face she had tried to send orders to Sirius to wake him and tell him to save her.

  The Marquis listened.

  Then he said quietly, “After that, I think you sent out thought waves to me.”

  “Did you feel them?”

  “I am sure I did!” he replied. “They made me remember where your uncle’s house was, and Sirius and I came through the garden to hear him threatening to beat you.”

  Diona gave a little cry.

  “I was playing for time,” she said, “but I am a – coward. If you had not come at exactly that moment – I am afraid I could not have – delayed the marriage any – longer.”

  The Marquis took her hand and raised it to his lips.

  “I have never known anybody quite so brave,” he said, “or so wonderful!”

  She looked at him wide-eyed because of the way he spoke.

  Then he rose and took the glass from her hand.

  “Now I am going to insist that you go to bed,” he said. “You have been through a great deal, far too much in fact, and we will talk about it again tomorrow.”

  “I – I do not want to – leave you.”

  “I know, my darling,” the Marquis answered, “and I have no wish to leave you, but I have to be sensible for us both.”

  He put down her glass, and then holding out his hands to help her to her feet he said,

  “Besides, you have to think of Sirius. He too needs his beauty sleep!”

  Diona laughed as he meant her to do.

  Then as she stood, seeming very small without shoes and looking up at him with her fair hair waving over her shoulders, her eyes very large in her small, pointed face, the Marquis said,

  “We have so much to say to each other, but I know, even though you will not admit it, my lovely one, that you are exhausted.”

  Diona knew this was true, but she was surprised that he was aware of it too.

  He picked her up in his arms again.

  “I can walk,” she protested.

  “I like carrying you,” the Marquis answered, “and you are so light that you might be one of the nymphs who I am quite certain still live in the lake at the Park.”

  “I was sure they were there,” Diona replied, “but I did not say so to you in case you thought I was too – fanciful.”

  “I knew they were there when I was a child,” the Marquis said, “and I am certain of it now that I am grown up.”

  He gave a little laugh as he carried her out of the drawing room and up the stairs.

  The night footman stared at them in surprise.

  The Marquis carried Diona to her bedroom and set her down in the centre of the bed.

  Then, taking off her shawl, he pushed her gently backwards against her pillows and pulled the sheet over her.

  “Go to sleep, my precious one,” he said, “and dream of nothing except that you are safe, and Sirius and I will never let this happen again.”

  Because there were no words in which to tell him how much she loved him, Diona merely held out her arms.

  He kissed her until she felt as if the room were spinning dizzily round her, and she thought they were moving up through the ceiling and into the starlit sky.

  She wanted him to kiss her and go on kissing her, but he said in a strangely hoarse voice,

  “Goodnight, my darling.”

  He took her hands from round his neck and placed them on her breast.

  As he stood looking down at her, the expression in his eyes made her feel as if a light lit them both and they were not on earth but flying among the stars.

  Then the Marquis blew out the candles and going from the room shut the door quietly behind him.

  For a moment Diona could hardly believe he had gone.

  She had become so close to him and was so much a part of him that it was as if he were still with her and she with him.

  Then as she shut her eyes she found herself saying over and over again,

  “Thank you God, thank you! This is love, and what I always wanted! Thank you! Thank you!”

  Chapter Seven

  Diona awoke with an irrepressible feeling of happiness.

  She lay for a moment thinking how wonderful everything was and how never again would she be so frightened or so lonely as she had been before the Marquis came into her life.

  Then she realised that Sirius was looking at her over the edge of the bed, and it was he who had awakened her.

  “I expect you want to go out,” she said.

  She pulled the bell and almost immediately the housemaid who looked after her opened the door.

  “Will you ask somebody to take Sirius out into the garden?” Diona said. “And please ask them to stay with him.”

  “Very good, miss.”

  As Sirius bounded towards the door, knowing he was to be taken out, Diona added,

  “What time is it?”

  “Nearly eleven o’clock miss.”

  Diona gave a little cry of horror.

  “I had no idea it was so late!”

  “His Lordship gave orders, miss, that you was not to be woken!”

  Diona sat up in bed.

  “Is His Lordship downstairs?”

  “No, Miss. He’s gone out, and said he’d be back for luncheon, and Mrs. Lamborn told me to tell you when you woke that she’s gone out shopping.”

  As by this time Sirius was at the end of the passage, the maid hurried away.

  Diona
got out of bed and pulled back her own curtains.

  As she did so, she looked down into the garden, remembering how last night she had been kidnapped by her uncle, and if it had not been for Sirius and the Marquis she would by now be married to Simon.

  The mere idea made her shudder.

  Then she told herself that all of that was finished.

  She was quite certain that after the Marquis had shot her uncle in the arm he would now leave her alone, so there was no reason to think any more of him or of Simon, or of the miserable time she had spent at the Hall.

  She felt as she had when she lived at home, that the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and everything was so wonderful that it was like being in a special little Heaven which was all her own.

  She put on one of her prettiest gowns, hoping that when the Marquis saw her he would admire her in it.

  Then, because she did not wish to miss a moment of his company when he returned, she ran down the stairs with Sirius, who had come back while she was dressing, and went to the library.

  It was a very different room from the large and impressive library at Irchester Park. There were far fewer books, and yet it was a library, and she knew it was the Marquis’s favourite room.

  She thought one of the reasons was that there were some magnificent paintings of horses on the walls.

  She stood looking at them, thinking how well the Marquis rode and what a joy it was for her to ride with him.

  The door of the library opened and she turned round expectantly, but it was not the Marquis who came in, but one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen.

  She was very elegantly dressed in an elaborate gown, which must have been extremely expensive, and her high-crowned bonnet was trimmed with small curled ostrich feathers in peacock blue.

  There were diamonds glittering in her ears and round her neck, and she was so spectacular that Diona found herself staring at her almost rudely until as the lady came farther into the room she remembered her manners and curtseyed.

  Then she realised that the newcomer was looking at her with an unmistakable expression of dislike.

  “So it is true!” she said sharply. “I was told that the Marquis had a young woman staying here with him, but I did not believe it!”

  Her tone of voice was aggressive, and Diona answered,

  “Yes, I am staying here, but I am chaperoned by His Lordship’s cousin, Mrs. Lamborn.”

  She felt it was rather strange to have to explain herself to this lady, whoever she might be.

  But if she had thought to appease her by such an explanation and sweep away the expression of anger in her beautiful eyes, her words seemed to have the opposite effect.

  “Who are you and where have you come from?” the lady asked in an even ruder tone of voice.

  Because Diona felt almost bemused by the lady’s unexpected behaviour, she answered as if she felt compelled to do so,

  “My name is Diona Grantley, and I came to London with his Lordship two days ago.”

  “Imposing yourself upon him, I suppose,” the lady said. “Well, let me tell you that your presence here has caused a lot of gossip which is extremely bad for his reputation. Chaperone or no chaperone, he is too young and too important to have young women staying in his house, and the sooner you leave the better!”

  “L-leave?” Diona faltered.

  “Yes, leave.”

  “I do not – understand.”

  “Then let me make it clearer! I am Lady Sybille Malden, and the Marquis, upon whom you have thrust yourself, and I are to be married!”

  “M-married?”

  As she spoke Diona felt as if the ceiling were falling in on her head and the room suddenly seemed very dark.

  “Yes, married,” Lady Sybille repeated, “and I have no wish to have my future husband made a laughing stock. I suppose it will not have occurred to you that such behaviour would be interpreted in a manner which must damage him in the eyes of the Social World?”

  “I – I did not – realise that.”

  “Well, now you do,” Lady Sybille said abruptly, and the sooner you get out of here and go back to where you came from, the better it will be for him and for me!”

  She stared at Diona, seeing the sunlight on her pale gold hair and the worry in her large, strangely coloured eyes.

  Then, as if the sight of such things made her lose her temper completely, Lady Sybille stamped her foot.

  “You heard what I said!” she cried. “Get out, and stay out! His Lordship belongs to me!”

  The way she spoke was so vehement that Diona gave a little cry, and without attempting to say any more she ran from the library, down the passage, and up the stairs to her bedroom.

  She knew now why the Marquis had not asked her to marry him.

  How could she have been so foolish as to think when he kissed her last night that she belonged to him and could be with him forever?

  Standing in the centre of her bedroom, she wondered frantically where she could go, and without him to protect her she knew she must hide again.

  Then, like a child who has been hurt, she knew she must go home.

  It flashed through her mind that her uncle might find her at the Manor, then she was sure that as he had been searching for her, he would have been there already and would not trouble to go back again.

  “Anyway, that is where I must go,” she told herself. “There is nowhere else.”

  She went to the wardrobe, and as she did so she saw on a chair a large round hatbox which must just have arrived from Bond Street with some bonnets which Mrs. Lamborn had bought for her the previous day.

  She took them out, and pulled from the hangers in the wardrobe several gowns, not choosing them but taking whichever came to hand, and flung them into the hatbox.

  She then added her nightgown and her hairbrush. As the box was now full, she put the lid back on it and tied it with the ribbons that were affixed at the sides.

  It was heavier now than when it had contained only a few bonnets, but fortunately the gowns, which Diona had packed, were very light.

  She found the shawl, which had belonged to her mother, in which she had carried her things when she had first run away from the Hall.

  She put a bonnet on her head, and only as she took from a drawer a pair of gloves and a satin bag in which she carried her handkerchief did she realise that she must have some money.

  For a moment she wondered frantically if she could manage without it.

  Then, as if her mind took over from her emotions, she knew how she could get some.

  Carrying the hatbox, with Sirius behind her she walked slowly down the stairs, and as the footman on duty hurried to take the box from her she said,

  “I have to join Mrs. Lamborn at the shops. Will you please call me a Hackney Carriage?”

  I could send to the stables, miss,” the footman said.

  “I think that is unnecessary,” Diona answered. “Mrs. Lamborn will have a carriage with her, and it will not take me more than a few minutes to join her.”

  “That’s true, miss,” the footman agreed.

  He opened the front door to go out into Park Lane in search of a Hackney Carriage, and the moment he had gone Diona walked quickly to Mr. Swaythling’s office.

  She opened the door to find, as she had expected, that he was sitting at his desk, and when he saw her he rose to his feet with a smile.

  “Good morning, Miss Grantley. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “May I have some money?” Diona asked.

  “Of course!” he replied. “How much do you want?”

  “I have some rather expensive things to buy this morning,” she answered. “Would it be possible for me to have twenty pounds?”

  She was aware that Mr. Swaythling raised his eyebrows as if he was surprised at the large amount, but he answered courteously,

  “Yes, of course, but I think you will find it more convenient to have fifteen pounds of it in notes.”

  “Th
at is a good idea,” Diona agreed, opening the satin bag that hung from her wrist.

  Mr. Swaythling put the notes and five golden sovereigns into the bag.

  “Beware of pick-pockets,” he said jokingly.

  “I will,” Diona answered, “and thank you very much.”

  “I hope you will find everything you want in the shops.”

  As Diona left him he sat down again at his desk.

  By the time she reached the Hall, the footman had fetched the Hackney Carriage and had lifted her hatbox into it.

  “I want to go to Madame Bertin’s shop in Bond Street,” Diona said, and the footman gave the order to the cabman, who drove off.

  Because it was a hot and sunny day the carriage was open, and as soon as they had travelled a little way down Park Lane, Diona raised her voice to say,

  “I have changed my mind.”

  The cabman, high above her, turned his head slightly so that she knew he had heard, and she went on,

  “Will you please take me to The White Bear in Piccadilly?”

  The cabman nodded and drove on.

  As they did so, Diona thought it was lucky that she knew where she could hire a post-chaise.

  It was only by chance that she was aware of it, but she remembered that when Roderic had arrived with Sam twenty minutes after she and the Marquis had returned from the country, he had said,

  “Of course you beat us! You had the best horses. Those that Sam was driving were so slow I would have done better in a post chaise from The White Bear at Piccadilly!”

  “You insult my stable!” the Marquis had retorted.

  Roderic had then laughed.

  “I am only piqued because you drive so much better than anybody else, as you well know.”

  “Now you are flattering me,” the Marquis had replied, “which makes me suspicious of what you are going to ask for in return.”

  They had all laughed, and Diona had thought, as she had so often before, what fun it was to hear the two men joking with each other.

  Because it was such a strange name, ‘The White Bear’ had lingered in her mind.

  When the Hackney Carriage turned in to the courtyard, she knew she was cleverly covering her tracks so that not only her uncle but also the Marquis would be unable to find her.

  “He might not want to, or, alternatively, he might think it was his duty to discover what has happened to me,” she told herself.