Too Precious to Lose

by Barbara Cartland

  Then she said quickly,

  “Forgive me – I am not laughing at you – but you must admit it is going to be difficult to keep yourself hidden and for anyone not to know what has occurred.”

  “It cannot be impossible and, of course, you must help me.”

  She looked at him enquiringly and, realising that he was waiting for her reply, she said,

  “I will help you in any way I can.”

  “That is what I wanted to hear, Rina, and, of course, you understand that my friends and my enemies will accept it as being quite natural if I disappear from social life provided they believe I have somebody with me who must not be seen.”

  Norina stared at him.

  “Do you – mean – ?” she began.

  “Exactly what you are thinking,” the Marquis said. “Now, tell me what you look like.”

  Chapter five

  Norina could not think how to answer.

  She stared ahead, looking at the wall of the coach as the wheels rumbled on to Paris.

  The Marquis waited.

  Then he said,

  “Turn your face towards me, Rina.”

  Because Norina was so bemused, she obeyed him and realised that he was sitting sideways to face her.

  She had taken off her spectacles because they blurred her vision and she had so wanted to see the stars and the land they were passing through.

  She would have put them on again, but the Marquis reached out and cupped her face with his hands.

  A little shiver went through her at his touch and he said quietly,

  “I will not hurt you. I am only trying to find out whether Jean was right in saying that you are très jolie.”

  It was impossible for Norina to move.

  Still with one hand on her left cheek, the Marquis slowly outlined her face with a finger of his right hand.

  First he moved it gently over her forehead and she was glad that she was not wearing the wig.

  Then he outlined her eyebrows and, very slowly so that she was not nervous, slid his finger down to touch the lids of her eyes and, because she was shy, she closed them.

  His fingertip lingered for a second on the length of her eyelashes.

  Then his finger moved down her straight little nose. It paused beneath it before he touched the curves of her lips. First left – right, then her underlip.

  She did not understand, but it gave her a strange sensation she had never felt before.

  She made a little murmur in her throat. Yet she did not move as he outlined the contour of her chin, rising up finally to her ear.

  He touched it and again she felt something strange streak through her breast. She thought it must be because she was nervous at what he was doing.

  Then, so quickly that she was surprised, he released her.

  Sitting back again in his seat, he said,

  “Jean is right and I am prepared to wager a large sum that you are, in point of fact, very lovely.”

  Because Norina felt strangely shaken by what he had just done, she turned her head away.

  She then looked out of the window from which the curtains were drawn back.

  Her hands still lay in her lap holding her spectacles.

  Again unexpectedly the Marquis put out his left hand and covered them.

  She thought he was going to refer to the fact that she wore spectacles, but instead, his fingers crept a little lower.

  Then he said in the tone of someone who has made a discovery,

  “No wedding ring. It is what I suspected!”

  Too late Norina remembered, when Dawes had suggested she should be a widow, that she should have taken her mother’s wedding ring from her jewel-box.

  Now that she thought about it, having packed everything she possessed, Dawes would not have forgotten her mother’s jewellery. It had been in the safe where her own was kept in a special drawer in her bedroom.

  Because she felt she must make some explanation, she said a little lamely,

  “I-I left it for – safety with my other – jewellery and forgot to – put it on when we – left this morning.”

  “That sounds very plausible,” the Marquis said, taking his hand away. “But I am suspicious of that mythical husband about whom you say you do not wish to talk.”

  “I – cannot think – why,” Norina replied.

  She meant to speak defiantly, but instead, her voice was soft, very young and frightened.

  “Would it not be best,” the Marquis asked, “if we had no secrets from each other? After all, you have learned mine.”

  He spoke in the beguiling voice that most women would find irresistible.

  Norina had a sudden vision of her stepmother stalking her, waiting to pounce and murder her wherever she might be.

  She was sure it would be a mistake to speak of it to anybody, even the Marquis.

  “I – think,” she said hesitatingly, “that – it would be safer for me – and for you if we left things – as they are.”

  “You are determined to make me curious,” the Marquis added.

  “When we reach – Paris I am sure – there will be a – great number of – other matters for – you to think about.”

  “Not if I am to isolate myself alone with you. I shall feel it rather tiresome to be eternally with a Sphinx who is more enigmatic than any Sphinx has ever been before!”

  “Once you know – my secrets,” Norina argued, “you will find them very dull and then there will be – nothing to think about, but – yourself.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “You always say the unexpected,” he said, “and while I find it infuriating, I am still intrigued. Now, tell me, beautiful little Rina, what you are going to do about us.”

  Norina glanced at him and turned away.

  She had a feeling that in some subtle manner he was flirting with her.

  It was what she had been told Frenchmen did with any woman they came in contact with.

  There was a smile on his lips, and she thought that when his eyes were not bandaged, he would, in fact, be exceedingly handsome.

  She felt a sudden panic in case she should become too closely involved with him.

  Supposing, as apparently a great number of other women had, she fell in love with him? Then she would write him a desperate despairing letter when he no longer had any use for her.

  ‘I must be sensible about this,’ she told herself, ‘and I must remember his reputation. To him I am just a secretary who can never be of any significance in his life.”

  Because she was so vividly conscious of him sitting next to her, she rose a little unsteadily to her feet.

  “I think I would – like to go and – lie down,” she said. “We have a long way to go, and the movement of the train is making me sleepy.”

  “I am sure that is sensible,” the Marquis agreed. “It will be nearly midnight when we arrive in Paris. We could stay in a siding until the morning, but I would rather move out of the train when it is dark so that we will not be noticed.”

  “I am – sure that is a – good idea,” Norina concurred.

  She walked across the coach and found her way into one of the small bedrooms attached to it.

  She had left her widow’s hat on the bed and now she put it on a chair and stretched herself out.

  She intended to go to sleep.

  Instead she kept feeling the Marquis’s fingers moving over her skin.

  She could still feel the strange sensation he had evoked in her breast when he touched her lips.

  ‘Please God – do not let – me fall – in love with – him,’ she prayed, ‘but let me – stay working for him. I like being with him. I like talking to him – but whatever happens, I must – not think of him as a – man, but just as – my employer.’

  *

  It was, as the Marquis had warned Norina, very late when they arrived in Paris.

  He insisted that they wait in the coach until practically all the passengers had left the train.

  Then
they walked slowly down the platform to where, outside the Gare du Nord, a carriage was waiting.

  Norina only had time to notice before they stepped into it that the horses were very well bred and the uniforms of the servants exceedingly smart.

  Jean jumped up onto the box beside the footman, while the Courier stayed behind to see to the luggage.

  Although it was late, there were still lights in a great many windows, people were moving about in the street and every so often there was the sound of music. There was also a considerable amount of traffic.

  To Norina it was all very exciting.

  She sat forward, looking out of the window, thinking that Paris was all she had expected it to be and there was some irresistible magic in the air.

  They passed the Opera House and she recognised it from the pictures she had seen.

  Then they went down what she was sure was the Rue de la Paix before they reached the Place Vendôme.

  Two minutes later she gave a little cry of excitement because they were in the Place de la Concorde. The fountains were playing and the lights made the water thrown up into the air iridescent and luminous.

  “It is lovely – perfectly lovely!” she exclaimed. “Oh, thank you, thank you for bringing me here!”

  “I thought that was what you would feel,” the Marquis said in a deep voice.

  “How could anyone not be thrilled by the Place de la Concorde,” Norina asked.

  The Marquis did not answer but the light from one of the street lamps illuminated his face and she saw thathe was smiling.

  They only had a short distance to go before the horses turned off the Champs Élysées. A moment later they passed through some iron gates and up a short drive.

  “Is this where you live?” Norina asked. “I have read that the houses in the Champs Élysées are the most distinguished in the whole of Paris.”

  “That is what I like to think,” the Marquis replied.

  The horses came to a standstill, a number of servants appeared and there were footmen in white wigs and very elaborate uniforms.

  Norina stepped out first.

  Then Jean assisted the Marquis to alight and led him by the arm into the house.

  A Major Domo, more resplendent than the other servants, greeted him respectfully, but Norina was aware that he was looking at his Master’s bandaged eyes in consternation.

  “We are tired,” the Marquis said, “and will go straight upstairs to bed.”

  “There is food and wine in the salon, Monsieur le Marquis,” the Major Domo replied.

  “I want nothing,” the Marquis said firmly, “but perhaps Madame Wyndham would like – ?”

  “No, no,” Norina interrupted. “Thank you very much, but I too would like to retire to bed.”

  The housekeeper was waiting at the top of the stairs to show her to a bedroom.

  It was on the first floor and exceedingly luxurious and Norina wondered if the Courier had been told that she was to be treated more as a guest than a secretary.

  A maid unpacked her nightgown and what she needed and helped her out of her clothes.

  As soon as she was in the big bed, which was very comfortable, Norina fell asleep.

  But her last thought was that she must not become too involved with the Marquis.

  *

  When Norina awoke, it was morning. Her breakfast was brought in and set beside her bed.

  It was, she thought, a delight and exactly as she expected.

  There were deliciously light hot croissants with a variety of different confitures or honey to spread on them and the coffee tasted better than any she had ever tasted before.

  When she sat back against her pillows, she could see the sunshine shimmering on the trees outside and the sky above them was very blue.

  Because it was so exciting, she jumped out of bed and ran to the window.

  ‘Whatever the Marquis might say,’ she told herself, ‘I have to explore Paris and, if there is no one to go with me, I shall go alone!’

  She then remembered she had duties to perform.

  She rang for a maid, who brought her hot water and helped her dress.

  And then she went downstairs, wondering if her relationship with the Marquis would be in any way different from how it had been before.

  He was waiting for her in a magnificent salon,

  It was decorated with what she was sure was Louis XIV furniture and pictures she longed to inspect.

  She was, however, determined to be businesslike and when she entered the room she said,

  “Bonjour monsieur! I am sure in your absence that there must be a large amount of correspondence awaiting your attention and I am wondering where I might find it.”

  “I have already thought of that,” the Marquis replied, “and my permanent secretary has dealt with all but those of an obviously personal nature.”

  Norina started.

  “Y-your permanent – secretary?” she repeated. “Then – you do not – need me?”

  She felt, as she spoke, as if the ceiling had suddenly crashed down on her head and that the sunshine had vanished.

  “My permanent secretary,” the Marquis explained, “also runs my house, but he does not deal with my private correspondence.”

  “Then you do – still need – me?”

  “I will tell you when you are no longer necessary,” the Marquis replied.

  The relief made Norina for a moment feel weak and, without waiting to be told she could do so, she sat down on a chair.

  “You – frightened – me!” she said accusingly.

  “You frightened yourself,” the Marquis replied. “You might not have noticed, but my eyes are still bandaged!”

  “I can – hardly say that I am – glad,” Norina replied in a voice that shook.

  “Then suppose you do your duty,” the Marquis suggested, “and open the letters that are standing on that secretaire by the window?”

  Norina rose and walked to where she could now see a large pile of letters.

  It was obvious that they were private and personal and she thought that some of the envelopes were scented as – Patsy’s – had been.

  She picked them up with a letter-opener that lay beside them and turned round.

  The Marquis was now sitting in a high-backed armchair. With his legs crossed and very elegantly dressed he looked like a Grand Seigneur.

  She walked nearer to him and sitting down in a chair, she slit open the first envelope.

  As she did so, the Marquis asked,

  “What are you wearing?”

  “My black gown.”

  “I think that is a mistake.”

  She looked at him in surprise.

  “Why?”

  “I have already told you that you are my excuse for not receiving my friends and therefore you must look the part.”

  Norina stared and he went on,

  “Servants talk and nothing can prevent them from doing so. By tonight a great number of people in Paris will know that I have returned home. They will also learn that I wish to receive no visitors. The question they will inevitably ask themselves is why? Do you understand?”

  “Y-yes – yes – of course,” Norina agreed hesitatingly.

  “Then I suggest that either you put on a gown that is not black, or if you do not have one with you, then I will provide it.”

  “No – no – of course – not!” Norina protested. “I could not allow you to – pay for – my clothes. It would be most – improper! As it happens – I have some very – pretty gowns with me.

  “And who paid for those?” the Marquis enquired.

  “My father,” Norina replied automatically.

  Because suddenly she guessed what he suspected, she added,

  “I don’t – want to take – part in this – masquerade. It is very – embarrassing.”

  “You would prefer to find someone else?” the Marquis asked coldly.

  Norina drew in her breath.

  She realised that he was saying
that if she did not do what he wanted, she could leave.

  But how could she do that with nowhere to go?

  Quickly, because she was unnerved, she said,

  “I will – do what – you want, but I am – afraid of making a mistake that would – hurt you.”

  “I think really,” the Marquis answered, “that you are worrying about your own reputation.”

  “No, that is – not true,” Norina said. “My reputation is of – no importance and I can say – that in all honesty.”

  She was thinking as she spoke that it was true, because what she was doing was saving her life.

  If she was gossiped about or unkind words were said, it would hardly be of any consequence if she was dead.

  As if he was reading her thoughts again, the Marquis said,

  “Now, suppose we go back to the beginning and let me ask you, because you promised to help me, to make yourself look as pretty and attractive as possible.”

  He paused and then continued,

  “As you are married, your husband has gone big game hunting or is visiting America and is not aware that you are here with me in Paris.”

  Norina stared at him and then she laughed.

  “Why are you laughing?” the Marquis asked.

  “Because everything is becoming – more and more complicated,” Norina replied, “and I am going to find it difficult remembering which is – really me or just – part of a Fairy tale.”

  “In which case, I am obviously the ‘bold bad villain’!”

  “I have not – said so, and I think that – if you are honest – you are – fishing for compliments!”

  “I can hardly be ‘Prince Charming’,” the Marquis answered, “with my eyes bandaged, unable to see how beautiful the Princess is, who is also in hiding.”

  “It is – your story,” Norina answered, “so, of course, you can – play any part in it – you choose. I am quite willing to be ‘Cinderella’ after ‘the Fairy Godmother’ waved her – magic wand and changed – her rags into a beautiful gown.”

  “You shall go and change as soon as you have opened my letters,” the Marquis said. “There will be no one to see you in the house, but descriptions of you will be carried on the wind, as they inevitably are.”

  It all sounded so ridiculous that Norina laughed again.

  “I am sure I am – dreaming!” she said. “This cannot be true!”