The Waters of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  Memories of her own incautious behaviour flooded her, making her uncomfortable, but she carried on straight into the attack.

  “You should surely have told me who you were immediately,” she declared.

  “What and miss hearing so many fascinating comments about myself? That is asking too much.”

  “You did not behave like a gentleman.”

  “And you did not behave like a lady. Which is excellent. Just think of what a lot of time we could have saved. Without yesterday we might never have known the truth about each other.”

  “I am certainly glad to know the truth about you,” she countered stiffly.

  “Precisely. Just think how disgracefully I might have imposed on you. As it is, when you see the shocking state of my house, you will know why our marriage has even been contemplated. You have been forewarned, ma’am. I am a heartless fortune hunter and no woman should have anything to do with me.”

  She eyed him grimly, appreciating the humorous turn he had given the situation, but unwilling to relent too soon.

  “In fact,” he sighed, “the more I think of it, the more I feel you should be grateful to me for exposing the ugly truth about myself to an innocent lady, who might otherwise have been deluded.”

  “I am not that easily deluded,” she told him firmly.

  He gave her a hilarious look.

  “Except by unscrupulous persons who conceal their true identity,” she added hastily.

  “But I am an unscrupulous person.”

  “You certainly are,” she said, thinking how insufferable it was of him to accuse himself before she could do so.

  “Exactly what I said, ma’am.”

  “You behaved unspeakably, encouraging me to put out lures to attract you – ”

  “Only so that you could have the pleasure of grinding me to dust, ma’am.”

  “Which I could never have done, because you were armoured in advance.”

  Memories were whirling about her head now. One, in particular, made her want to scream with shame and vexation. He had said –

  “You think he’s so desperate that he’ll marry you anyway, even looking down his nose at you?”

  And what had she replied? Something about him being prepared to do anything for money.

  Oh, how could she have said that? How could he have duped her so easily?

  How could she wreak her revenge?

  “I tell you frankly, sir,” she said now, “if there is one thing I regret more than any other, it is that I will not have the pleasure of grinding you to dust.”

  “Beneath your heel?”

  “Beneath both my heels.”

  “You were especially looking forward to that, I gather?”

  “Definitely!”

  “Perhaps I could suggest some other method of entertaining you?”

  “Nothing will compensate me for that loss.”

  “There is always revenge,” he suggested.

  This accorded so well with her own thoughts that she was too startled to reply.

  “As I show you round my dilapidated house, you will have the pleasure of seeing how badly I stand in need of your money. Picture to yourself my bitter regret that I have forever put it out of my own power to woo you into – er – handing it over.”

  Lexia lips twitched.

  “Yes. I think I shall enjoy that thought.”

  She had to admit that the condition of the house was shocking. In the ballroom she saw that the ceiling needed repair and the pictures needed reframing.

  The music room as well was in a disgraceful state.

  “I have been unable to do anything to this room,” the Marquis was saying. “In fact, I seldom come into it, as it depresses me. As you know anything as old as this house requires thousands of pounds to bring it back into what it was in the past.”

  He sighed.

  “Quite frankly it is impossible for me to find so much money, so I shall have to marry an heiress. Do you happen to know any?”

  Lexia’s struggled to suppress a smile. It was harder to dislike the Marquis than she had thought.

  “Heiresses do not grow on trees, sir.”

  “I am sadly aware of that. The only heiress of my acquaintance is an awkward creature who would certainly knock me to the floor with her parasol were I to attempt to make advances.”

  “Then be warned and do not.”

  “I shall heed your warning, ma’am.”

  “Besides there must be many heiresses on the catch for you.”

  “For my title, ma’am, only for my title. It’s a melancholy thought.”

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed instantly. “Do you ever see people looking in your direction and realise suddenly that they are not looking at you, but at something beyond you?”

  He nodded.

  “I see it all the time. It’s rather like being a ghost.”

  “Yes, and you want to call out and remind them that you are actually there.”

  They looked at each other in mutual sympathy.

  “They don’t understand,” said Lexia at last. “Nobody understands what it’s like.”

  “Except us.”

  “Yes, except us.”

  They walked on their way through the great house, feeling more at ease with one another.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When the tour of the house was over, the Marquis with Lexia on his arm descended the stairs and approached the drawing room. At about the same moment each began to slow down, as though reluctant to go any further.

  “I wonder if we are thinking the same thought,” murmured the Marquis.

  “They will stare at us as we enter the room,” replied Lexia.

  “Yes, they will,” he agreed. “And they will speculate.”

  “They will smile to themselves.”

  “And each other.”

  “It doesn’t matter how blank we keep our faces,” she added desperately.

  “They will read into them whatever they want to.”

  Just in front of the door they stopped.

  “Perhaps we could quarrel,” she suggested hopefully.

  He shook his head.

  “They will interpret it as a lovers’ tiff. Whatever we do, they will believe what they wish.”

  “You mean it’s hopeless?”

  “No,” he asserted in a decided tone. “We will defeat them.”

  “How?”

  “By standing together.”

  “Shoulder to shoulder.”

  “Side by side.”

  They faced the door. She slipped her hand into his arm and they advanced together.

  Their entrance was as awkward as they had feared. Mr. Drayton and the two ladies glanced up quickly before looking away, trying to seem uninterested.

  The Marquis handed Lexia to her seat and offered her some tea, which she accepted politely.

  The air was tense and then to their relief, the butler entered.

  “Lady Overton, my Lord.”

  The Marquis looked up in surprise as through the doorway came a middle-aged woman whom Lexia thought must have been very pretty when she was young.

  She was dressed in sensible country clothes and could never have been anything else but an Englishwoman.

  “Dear Francis, I thought you might be at home,” she gushed as she sailed across the room. “I wanted to tell you that we are having a party next Wednesday and I have the most attractive people coming whom I know you will enjoy. So don’t tell me you are too busy to come.”

  “Of course not,” answered the Marquis. “Any party of yours is always amusing.”

  “I have some special guests from France, whom I am sure you will love to meet,” she told him.

  Then as if she had only just noticed them, she stared first at Lexia and next at her father.

  “I don’t think you have met my guests,” said the Marquis. “They have just returned from America and have moved into Highcliffe Hall.”

  Lady Overton held out her hand to Mr. Drayton.


  “I am delighted you are here,” she cooed. “In fact I have been complaining for ages that we never have any interesting new people in the County. The last tenant of Highcliffe Hall lived a very solitary life.”

  Abruptly she switched her attention to Lexia, looking her up and down with eyes that were sharp and full of curiosity.

  “My daughter, Lexia,” Mr. Drayton told her.

  “So you are the lady I have heard so much about,” exclaimed Lady Overton. “My dear, the whole County is talking about you. How wonderful to meet you at last.”

  She shook hands with Lexia, while her eyes continued to bore into her.

  Lexia had seen that look before and secretly relished it. It meant that the newcomer was assessing her, trying to decide whether she represented a threat to long-cherished plans.

  And Lexia did represent a threat. She knew it and the other woman knew it as well, and the smile she gave Lady Overton was implicit with the knowledge they both shared.

  Lady Overton’s smile wavered only slightly.

  “We need new people here,” she continued, “and I am sure you will help us to make Berkshire far more exciting than it is at the moment.”

  “We are really looking forward to joining in the life of the County,” replied Lexia politely. “But, of course, as we have only arrived recently, we know very few people.”

  “You will know no one better than Francis,” Lady Overton rambled on. “He is the person who can make things quite brilliant and when he is not around everything is deadly dull.”

  “Now you are flattering me,” came in the Marquis.

  “No, it is the truth! I will be very upset if you do not come to my party because my dear sister, Martha, is coming down from London especially.”

  She looked at the Marquis in a provocative manner as she carried on,

  “You know how she loves dancing with you and I am determined we will have the best band available, so that the evening will be a success even before it begins.”

  “All your evenings are successful and I will look forward to seeing Martha again.”

  At this Lady Overton simpered and could not resist taking a sideways look at Lexia to make sure that she had understood the significance of Martha.

  “Now that Mr. Drayton has taken over the house,” Lady Overton resumed, “we will expect him to provide us with new parties, new ideas and of course, young people.”

  Lexia realised that her father was enjoying this conversation. He seemed unable to understand that Lady Overton was patronising him.

  “I promise you,” he said, “that I will make Highcliffe Hall a riot of fun and gaiety, but, of course, having been away from England for so long, I will need your help as to whom I should invite.”

  Lady Overton laughed and responded at once,

  “I can see you have all the right ideas and, of course, I will be only too willing to help you.”

  She gave another simper at Lexia, as she added,

  “And I am sure the young men will welcome your pretty daughter with open arms.”

  ‘You hope they will,’ thought Lexia, amused. ‘Thus leaving Martha a clear field with the Marquis.’

  “I will be grateful for any help you can give me,” Mr. Drayton confirmed.

  “My pleasure,” purred Lady Overton. “Now I simply must rush away. “Francis, dear, you haven’t forgotten that I am expecting you for dinner tomorrow night. It will be just a small party, a few of our most intimate friends and I know I can depend on you.”

  The Marquis hesitated and Lexia thought she understood why. For Lady Overton to mention this dinner party in front of the Draytons, while so pointedly excluding them, was an act of rudeness and it had embarrassed him.

  She waited with interest to see what he would do next.

  At last the Marquis spoke.

  “As a matter of fact, Honoria, I fear I shall be unable to come to your dinner, much as I was looking forward to it.”

  “Oh, but why,” she demanded petulantly.

  “Mr. Drayton has been kind enough to invite me to his house tomorrow evening.”

  “But I am sure he will understand that you have a prior engagement – ” Lady Overton began to protest.

  “Indeed he would, since he is all kindness and generosity, but as he and his daughter are newcomers in the district, as well as my newest tenants, I feel they are entitled to every courtesy. I am certain that you would feel the same.”

  There was a pause while Lady Overton regained her composure and hoisted her smile back into place.

  “But of course,” she concurred. “In fact – ” she seemed to have been struck by sudden inspiration, “ – why should not Mr. Drayton and his daughter come to my dinner party tomorrow? Then the whole district can welcome them.”

  “An excellent idea,” agreed the Marquis affably.

  “Your Ladyship is too kind,” accepted Mr. Drayton quickly before she could change her mind.

  She regarded him with disfavour.

  “Yes, well, I am sure we can squeeze in two more without too many problems. You are very welcome, of course. Well, I must be going. It’s all going to be so lively at Overton Park!”

  She paused to added significantly,

  “My young sister Martha is coming from London very soon, a fascinating beauty.”

  She was still talking as she walked towards the door.

  As the Marquis opened it for her she said in what he imagined was meant to be a whisper, but which was easily heard by the others in the room,

  “Martha is just longing to meet you again. She has such blissful memories of the last time you danced together.”

  Then she was gone.

  “Honoria does tend to be a little over-powering,” explained the Marquis. “But she means well. Sir, I apologise for claiming an appointment with you tomorrow without your consent – ”

  “No apology is necessary,” said Mr. Drayton graciously. “You were too kind.”

  “Then it is agreed that we will all attend the party together? I will call for you at six o’clock.”

  Mr. Drayton left the house in seventh heaven. All the way home he talked about the evening to come and in his mind he was already half way to his goal.

  “Don’t take so much for granted, Papa,” Lexia warned him. “There is always Martha and I think Lady Overton is making plans.”

  “Pooh, whoever Martha is, if he was going to marry her, he would have done so by now. No, my dear, he is yours for the taking.”

  “Papa!” she exclaimed and then corrected herself with a warning look at their coachman’s back.

  “Nonsense! A well-trained coachman forgets what he has heard as soon as he’s heard it and Jack is very well trained.”

  *

  If the Marquis had one true friend in the world it was his valet, Jenkins.

  He was a calm unhurried man in his fifties, who had been with his employer for fifteen years and was devoted to him.

  The Marquis trusted him completely and when he was preparing for bed that night he felt able to confide in him. He was surprised to find Jenkins in a sombre mood.

  “I need hardly say, my Lord, that all your tenants and dependents are hoping to see you make a match with this lady. Everyone would be simply delighted.”

  “Everyone except the lady herself,” added the Marquis wryly.

  “Unfortunately, my Lord, that is true,” said Jenkins with a deep sigh.

  The Marquis stared.

  “What do you know about it?”

  “I know, my Lord, that the lady loves another.”

  He uttered the last words in a portentous tone that left no doubt that they were highly significant.

  “Considering the depth of the lady’s feelings, sir, I fear it may be very hard for you to make any headway.”

  “Jenkins, what are you talking about? Who says that she loves another?”

  “The lady herself says so, my Lord.”

  “To you?”

  “No, to her father. Jack, their coach
man, is courting my niece, Sally, who is your second under-housemaid. While he was here this afternoon he went to the kitchen and they got talking. Being a good girl, she felt obliged to inform me of what he had said. Apparently Miss Drayton and her father had the most terrible scene in the carriage on the way here.”

  “About this man she loves?”

  “Yes, my Lord. His name is Mr. Wayne Freeman and he is an American gentleman. Apparently Miss Lexia is wildly in love with him, so much so that Mr. Drayton was forced to leave America to take her away from this man’s influence.”

  “Great Heavens!”

  “He has forbidden her ever to think of him again, my Lord.”

  “But she cannot forget him?” asked the Marquis in a hollow voice.

  “It seems not, my Lord.”

  “She actually declared her love for this man?” he asked cautiously.

  “Apparently, my Lord, the lady flew into a great passion, wept and stormed and declared that she would marry him or die.”

  “I see. That will be all, Jenkins.”

  “Goodnight, my Lord.”

  The valet bowed himself out.

  Left alone, the Marquis turned out the light and sat for a long time in the darkness, brooding over what he had just heard.

  He was not acquainted with Sally, so he had no idea of her love of romantic melodrama, nor had he allowed for the wild exaggeration that Jack would naturally employ in seeking to win and keep Sally’s attention.

  At last he walked to stand in the window, looking out over the moonlit gardens, a prey to deep thought.

  *

  The next morning he rode out to the place by the water where they had talked. He was not quite sure what he was expecting, but when he saw her riding towards him he knew that he would have been disappointed if she had not come.

  She saw him from a distance and waved.

  She was in breeches again, riding astride, her hair swept up and hidden under a peaked cap.

  He too was dressed in the rough clothes he had worn at their first meeting.

  He took a moment to admire her riding and the way she controlled a great brute of a horse with only the lightest movements.

  Then he turned his horse towards her and cantered ahead, pointing to his right, where there was a way over clear ground. She nodded and turned in the same direction.