The Glittering Lights (Bantam Series No. 12)

by Barbara Cartland

  “It does not worry me in the slightest, Mama,” Cassandra said. “Quite frankly I would much rather spend the summer here in Yorkshire. You know as well as I do that I enjoy the races, and I find my own friends with whom I have been brought up far more agreeable than all the strange notabilities to whom I should be very small fry.”

  “Dammit! I wanted you to have a London Season,” Sir James said irritably, “and I have made all the arrangements with the Duke.”

  That, Cassandra knew, annoyed her father more than anything else.

  Sir James and the Duke of Alchester had decided many years ago that their children should marry each other.

  The Duke wanted an heiress for his son—he made no bones about it! His great estate was mortgaged, the house was in disrepair, and the Marquess of Charlbury was well aware that he had to marry money.

  “I had been half-afraid that I should have to put up with a damned American or a tradesman’s daughter,” the Duke had snorted to Sir James. “What could be better than that your girl and my boy should make a match, and we can see that they do things properly?”

  The Marquess of Charlbury, who was six years older than Cassandra, had been abroad when it had all been decided.

  “I have sent the boy to see the world,” the late Duke said. “It will make him appreciate his position in this country. No-body, as you well know, Sherburn, has a better family tree or a finer family seat. It is just that we have not enough money to keep it up.”

  Sir James and the Duke of Alchester had been friends for some years. They had met at Tattersall’s Sale-rooms where for some months they vied against each other in trying to acquire the finest horses.

  It was after Sir James had out-bid the Duke and paid an exorbitant price for two particularly fine hunters, that he had walked up to the older man to say:

  “It strikes me, Your Grace, that we are pouring a lot of unnecessary money, not only into the pockets of the owners, but also into the hands of those who run this Sale-room.”

  The Duke looked at Sir James in surprise. Then he had succumbed, just as so many other people had done before him, to the younger man’s charm.

  “What do you suggest we do about it?” he asked.

  “Come to a sensible arrangement between us!” Sir James replied. “We can inspect the horses before the sales, pick out those in which we are personally interested, and agree as to which ones each shall bid for.”

  The same agreement applied to their race-horses. When they went to the Newmarket or to the sales which took place on the race-course, they were always seen consulting each other and if one of them was bidding the other was silent.

  Because the love of horses is the closest bond that an Englishman can have with another, the Duke and Sir James Sherburn became close friends.

  Cassandra was only twelve when she first saw the Marquis of Charlbury.

  Her father had taken her to the Eton v. Harrow cricket match at Lords. They had a Coach on the Mound, where an innumerable number of people of all ages drank champagne and ate raspberries and cream, usually with their backs to the cricket.

  Cassandra however watched the boys in their white flannels fighting the annual battle of Eton College against Harrow School, and it had been impossible not to realise that the Captain of Eton was an outstanding young man.

  He took four wickets and made sixty runs and had, it appeared, ensured almost single-handed that Eton was the winner.

  He had been brought by the Duke to Sir James’s coach during the afternoon and Cassandra, seated on the box, had looked down at him with interest.

  She had not realised then that her future was already being planned for her by her father and the Duke.

  In his long white flannel trousers, blazer and pale blue cap the Marquis had appeared extremely handsome. His hair was dark and he had grey eyes which she noticed immediately.

  There was an expression of curiosity in them which made him, she thought, appear to look penetratingly at anyone to whom he spoke, as if he was searching for something.

  He was tall and extremely thin, as if he had almost outgrown his strength, or else driven himself hard.

  There was no doubt that he was popular with other Etonians, while older men spoke of what he had achieved at the match with a pride that told those who listened it was part of the nostalgia of their schooldays.

  The Duke was talking eagerly to Sir James about a horse he had heard of in Suffolk and which he thought was worth their attention.

  The young Marquis was surrounded by the young women who had been accepting Sir James’s hospitality.

  They were flattering him, hanging on his words, laughing at everything he said and doing their utmost, Cassandra thought with a little curve of her lips, to make themselves alluring.

  ‘Today he is the hero of the match,’ she thought. ‘Tomorrow they will have forgotten him.’

  But she was to learn as the years went on that the Marquis of Charlbury was not someone who was easily forgotten!

  The newspapers were full of him, the illustrated journals went into rhapsodies over his looks, his charm and his rank.

  She could never remember afterwards whether they had actually been introduced that day at Lords; but whether they had or not, she had certainly made no impact upon him, while she knew that as far as she was concerned her life had been changed that warm summer’s afternoon.

  It seemed to her inevitable and in a way part of a dream when her father told her that he and the Duke had planned that she should marry the Marquis.

  “And supposing he does not like me?” she asked.

  For a moment Sir James looked a little embarrassed.

  “My dearest, you must understand,” he said, “that in the social world marriages are arranged by the parents of those concerned.”

  “But could such a marriage ever be successful?” Cassandra enquired.

  “They are successful,” Sir James answered. “In the vast majority of cases the two people concerned fall in love with each other after the marriage and live in great contentment.”

  “Are you telling me that that is what happened with you and Mama?”

  Sir James smiled.

  “As usual, Cassandra, you have put your finger upon my Achilles’ heel! I met your mother by chance. I fell in love with her as soon as I saw her. I think she will tell you that she also fell in love with me.”

  He paused and then he said:

  “I was much older than she, Cassandra. I always intended to marry, but only when I was quite certain I found someone who would suit me.”

  “In other words,” Cassandra said, “you meant to marry someone who had both breeding and an important place in the social world. You were rich, Papa, but you had no intention of not furthering your ambitions by your marriage.”

  “We have always been frank with each other,” Sir James replied, “and therefore I can admit in all honesty, Cassandra, that that is more or less the truth. I had no intention, when I gave up my bachelor-hood, of making anything but a brilliant social marriage, something which I may add I had enjoyed very much.”

  Cassandra laughed.

  “I have heard it said, Papa, that there has never been such a flirt as you, and that women pursued you like flies around a honey-pot!”

  “You flatter me!” Sir James protested, but his eyes were twinkling.

  “What you are trying to tell me,” Cassandra went on, “is that you always intended to make a mariage de convenance. You would not have married someone unimportant, however much you loved her.”

  “I was fortunate in that the situation did not arise,” Sir James said, “so I cannot tell you what I would have done in different circumstances. It was true I was enamoured with many lovely women and perhaps you are right in saying I broke a number of hearts! But the moment I saw your mother I loved her.”

  There was something rather moving in the simplicity with which he spoke.

  “And I am not to have the same chance of finding someone I love,” Cassandra sai
d in a small voice.

  Sir James made a gesture with his hands.

  “My dear, you are a woman and how can a woman judge what is best for herself? Not a rich woman at any rate.”

  “You mean that, as soon as I am old enough, men will want to marry me for my money?” Cassandra said.

  “Men will want to marry you because you are lovely, because you are sweet, intelligent and have a personality of your own,” Sir James corrected. “And, to add to all that, you are also a very wealthy young woman!”

  Cassandra sighed.

  “So I have to allow you to choose my husband?”

  “You have to trust me as you have always done, to know what is best for you.”

  “And what about the Marquis?” Cassandra enquired. “He is a man. He can have his own choice as you did.”

  “No! Charlbury has to marry for money,” Sir James said. “There is no question of that. The Alchester Estate is in the red. Because I am the Duke’s friend, he has confided in me that it will require a small fortune to set things to rights. The only chance Charlbury has of living in the home of his ancestors is to take a rich wife.”

  “He may ... love someone quite ... different.”

  Cassandra felt as though she forced the words between her lips.

  “He is a gentleman,” Sir James replied. “He will, I know, always show his wife courtesy and consideration. I have never heard anyone say anything unpleasant or indeed unkind about Charlbury.”

  Cassandra felt after this conversation that her father would arrange for her to meet the young Marquis. He so often went to stay at Alchester Park with the Duke or they met at one of their Clubs.

  It seemed strange that no invitation for her came to The Towers and there was never any question of the Marquis being asked to stay for one of the innumerable Balls or functions which took place in Yorkshire.

  When she was older she realised that this was deliberate on her father’s part.

  He did not wish the Marquis to see her when, as he put it himself, she was unfledged, half-grown, not quite as beautiful as she promised to be.

  But there was no doubt they would have met when she went to London for her debut, had not Sir James’s plans been frustrated twice so that they had to remain in Yorkshire.

  Then, as if fate had not finished putting obstacles in their way, the Duke died in 1885.

  He had a stroke when he was watching one of his horses beaten at the post Epsom racecourse and only survived for twenty-four hours.

  This was even a bigger set-back than Sir James had endured previously.

  He had just arranged that the young Marquis should come and stay at The Towers for the local races and to take part in the County festivities which always coincided with them.

  He had not pretended to Cassandra that this was not the auspicious moment in her life.

  “You will meet Charlbury, he will propose to you, and you can be married at the end of the summer.”

  “Does he realise what has been planned for him?” Cassandra asked.

  “Of course,” her father replied. “The Duke has already invited us to stay at Alchester for Ascot, and by that time your engagement will be in the Gazette.”

  Cassandra had said very little. She felt as if she was waiting in a theatre for the curtain to rise and was not quite certain which play was being performed.

  When she was alone a thousand questions came into her mind, a thousand fears and doubts and apprehensions seemed to encompass her like a cloud.

  Then with the Duke’s death, everything came to a standstill.

  Sir James had travelled South to attend the funeral and he had not suggested that Cassandra should come with him.

  Anyway she also was in mourning, and she was well aware it would not be right for her to meet her future husband at the deathbed of his father.

  And so her second summer was spent in Yorkshire, while Sir James, she knew, waited at first confidently and then with some degree of anxiety for a letter from the new Duke of Alchester.

  Cassandra waited too and for the first time in her life, she had not confided her thoughts and feelings to her father.

  They were so close that she never had any secrets that he could not share.

  “Who offered for you tonight?” he would ask as they travelled back from a Ball at which Cassandra had undoubtedly been the Belle and evoked the admiration of every male and the envy of every female.

  “John Huntley, for the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time,” she replied laughingly. “I am fond of him, but he does not seem to understand that the word ‘No’ exists in the English language.”

  “I admire his persistence,” Sir James said.

  “He is as heavy-handed as a suitor as he is with a horse,” Cassandra had said.

  “And what could be more condemning?” Sir James remarked with a smile.

  “I know one thing ... I could never marry a man who could not ride well and did not understand horses.”

  “There are plenty of good riders to be found,” Sir James said mockingly.

  “You know I also want someone intelligent,” Cassandra said, “and that is more than I can say for Walter Witley. If you had heard him stammering and hesitating tonight, you would have been really sorry for him. I tried to prevent him coming to the point, but he had made up his mind to ‘try his luck,’ as he put it. But I do not think he will try again.”

  “Were you unkind to him?” Sir James asked curiously.

  “No, but I have deflated his ego,” Cassandra answered. “He thinks Lord Witley of Witley Park is too much of a catch to be turned down by the daughter of a mere Baronet!”

  “Damn it all!” Sir James ejaculated. “The Sherburns were Squires in Yorkshire when the Witleys were nothing but sheep-shearers.”

  Cassandra had laughed.

  “Oh, Papa, I love you when you are proud of your ancestry and you give the parvenus a set-down! But Lord Witley is Lord Witley and he never lets anyone forget it.”

  “Well, I will tell your mother to delete him from her list of eligible young men “ Sir James said, “and quite frankly, if you married a Witley, I should refuse to come to your wedding.”

  Cassandra laughed again and then linking her arm in her father’s she said:

  “The trouble is, Papa, that I find you so fascinating, so amusing, so clever, and so unusually intelligent, that all other men pale into insignificance beside you.”

  Sir James kissed the top of her head.

  “You spoil me, Cassandra. At the same time, as you well know, I want the best—the very best—for you, and that is what I intend you to have.”

  It was now that the Duke’s belated letter had arrived, that Cassandra found herself for the first time questioning her father’s wisdom where she was concerned.

  She knew that, had the Marquis of Charlbury come to stay as had been arranged the previous year, she would have accepted his proposal as her father intended, and by now they would have been married.

  ‘But,’ she told herself, ‘in the past year I have changed.’

  She was not a very young girl standing on the threshold of life, a little bewildered and uncertain of herself, and unsure of what she wanted of the future.

  In simple words she had grown up.

  At twenty she was no longer a debutante, and because she was far more intelligent than the average girl of her age, or indeed of most women at any age, she was prepared to look critically at her suitor and not accept him just because it pleased her father.

  Sir James was perceptive enough to know that something was perturbing her, and while he was confident that in due course Cassandra would tell him what it was, he also was aware that he was no longer dealing with a child who would obey him without question.

  There was no time to say much more to each other. Dinner was announced and they proceeded to the Dining-Room, Lady Alice being wheeled ahead of Sir James and Cassandra.

  As might be expected, the meal was superlatively cooked by a French Chef, whose salar
y to keep him in Yorkshire was an extravagance which few other men would have contemplated.

  There were flowers decorating the Dining-Room table from the huge green-houses which covered over two acres of garden, there were fruits forced in a manner which commanded the admiration of all the horticulturists in the North of England, and Sir James’s gold racing trophies helped to decorate the table.

  Sir James seated himself in his high-backed chair and remarked with satisfaction:

  “How nice it is to have on either side of me two of the most beautiful women in the world, and to know that tonight I do not have to make polite conversation with a number of boring acquaintances.”

  Lady Alice laughed.

  “You like having us alone because it is a novelty, but if it was something which occurred too often you would soon be yawning.”

  “How can you say anything so unkind?”

  Sir James took his wife’s hand and raised it to his lips.

  “Have I ever appeared to be bored with you?”

  “No, darling,” Lady Alice answered, “but I take very good care that you have many distractions to amuse you.”

  It was true, Cassandra thought, watching them. Lady Alice would arrange for all the most attractive and beautiful women she knew to stay at The Towers and be their guests at luncheon, dinner and on every possible occasion.

  She sometimes wondered if her mother felt jealous at the way in which they flirted outrageously with her father and obviously set themselves out to use every possible feminine allure to attract him.

  Then she knew with that new instinct that she had discovered in herself that Lady Alice held her husband by not appearing to do so.

  There was between them an understanding which seemed to enrich their lives, so that Cassandra knew that no-one, however beautiful, would ever take the place of her mother in his affections.

  At the same time, she was well aware that Sir James had the reputation of being a Don Juan and that women found him irresistible.