Too Precious to Lose

by Barbara Cartland

  “Then let us hope you do not wake up to anything unpleasant,” the Marquis said somewhat mockingly.

  “I don’t – believe there is anything – unpleasant in Paris!”

  She opened the Marquis’s letters and read them aloud.

  Quite a number of them were from ladies begging him to let them know as soon as he returned and they all told him how miserable they had been in his absence.

  There was a repetition about them and it made Norina think that intelligent and witty as Frenchwomen were reputed to be, there was a lamentable sameness in the way they expressed themselves when they were in love.

  The Marquis made no comment as she went from one letter to another.

  Finally, when she had read the last one, he said,

  “Put them on the fire!”

  “You – you don’t – wish me to – answer any of them?”

  “There is nothing to say.”

  She rose to her feet and put the letters one by one onto the fire. The flames flared up and the pages of passion curled beneath them.

  When the last one had burned to ashes, she turned away.

  “What are you thinking?” the Marquis asked.

  “I am – feeling sorry for – those women,” Norina answered.

  “And for me?”

  “There is no reason why I should feel sorry for you, but they are tributes at your feet or incense, if you prefer, from worshippers before – your shrine.”

  She spoke lightly and only as she finished speaking did she think that she had been rude.

  “I am – sorry,” she said quickly, “that is – something I should – not have said.”

  “Always the unexpected!” the Marquis remarked. “Go and change.”

  Norina ran upstairs.

  She found that without instructions, the maid had unpacked several of her trunks.

  The gowns that her father had bought for her in London were hanging in the wardrobe.

  She felt it embarrassing to have to explain why she was changing so soon and she therefore managed to undo her gown herself.

  She put on a pretty summer gown that she also managed to button up at the back.

  She thought it was suitable for a young girl and not for the married woman she was supposed to be.

  As she expected, Dawes had packed her jewellery as well as her mother’s and the jewel-cases were standing on a beautifully inlaid commode.

  She looked into her mother’s case and found, as she should have done before, her wedding ring.

  She put it on her finger and, because it was a little large, she made sure it would stay on by adding one of her mother’s smaller diamond rings.

  Also, to make herself look older, she put on a pair of pearl and diamond earrings that had also belonged to her mother.

  Shutting the jewel-box, she went back downstairs.

  The Marquis was still in the room where she had left him, but standing at the open window and she felt that he was longing to be outside, perhaps driving in the Bois de Boulogne or riding one of his horses.

  When he heard her approach, he turned round slowly and, as she walked towards him, he asked,

  “You have changed, Rina?”

  “I am wearing white with a skirt that is decorated with broderie anglais and there is a blue sash round my waist.”

  The Marquis did not speak and she added,

  “I am also wearing the wedding ring that I told you was in my jewel-box.”

  She spoke defiantly because she still had no wish for him to know how young she was and she was not, whatever he said, prepared to admit that she was not married.

  The Marquis took her hand in both of his and felt her rings.

  “Diamonds?” he questioned. “If your husband was a rich man, why are you forced to work for your living?”

  There was no answer to this and Norina did not reply.

  He put up his hand again as if towards her cheek, but instead he touched her ear.

  “Earrings!” he exclaimed. “And, of course, you could have sold them rather than become a secretary.”

  “Now you are questioning the old ‘me’,” Norina said reluctantly. “I thought we had moved into another world in which I am a rich, important social figure who has eloped with you to the Continent.”

  “Yes, of course,” the Marquis agreed. “Forgive me. We must, of course, act out our parts and be careful not to forget them.”

  He put his arm around Norina as he spoke and, before she could realise what was happening, he pulled her against him.

  She looked up at him in amazement and then realised that he was about to kiss her.

  His lips had almost touched hers when she cried,

  “Non! Non!”

  She fought herself free and moved away from the Marquis to the other side of the window.

  She held on to the windowsill to support herself.

  He was standing where she had left him and she thought, although she was not certain, that he was astonished by her reaction to his advances.

  She was breathing quickly and she was not certain what she should do.

  Then the Marquis said quietly,

  “I thought you had agreed to play the part I have assigned to you.”

  “But – we were only – pretending!” Norina managed to gasp.

  “Then, of course, I must apologise and may I suggest in my own defence, Rina, that if any other woman had been in your position, she would have thought it very remiss if I had not kissed her in gratitude for her help.”

  “But – you must not – kiss me!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because – it would be – wrong.”

  “Why wrong?”

  It was a question that was difficult to answer and Norina replied,

  “I believe that you – should – kiss only somebody with whom – you are very much – in love.”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “Surely it would not be difficult for us to pretend to be in love, at least while we are acting a play in which it is actually a necessity?”

  “I-I don’t think – that is – true!” Norina said. “And – please – I do not – want you to – kiss me.”

  She thought if the Marquis kissed her, it would give her the same feelings as when he had touched her lips with his fingers.

  Then she might easily fall in love with him and that would mean nothing but misery in the future.

  She might find herself writing the sort of letters that Patsy and the other women wrote when he was no longer interested in them.

  “That is a plea which, of course, I cannot refuse,” the Marquis declared quietly.

  He put out a hand to find the back of a chair and guided himself back to where he had been sitting before.

  Then he paused.

  “Do not be so frightened, Rina,” he said. “I will not hurt you. I assure you, I have never forced myself on any woman who is unwilling.”

  “H-how do you – know I am – frightened?” Norina asked in a childlike little voice.

  “I can feel it,” the Marquis answered.

  As he spoke, he moved not in the direction of his chair, but towards her.

  He stood in front of her before he asked,

  “Give me your hand.”

  She held out her hand and his fingers closed over hers.

  “I have no wish to cause you any distress,” he said gently. “Just trust me and we can, I am sure, be happy together.”

  As he finished speaking, he raised her hand to his lips.

  It was the perfunctory gesture for a Frenchman, but for a second she felt his mouth against her skin.

  Instantly there was that same strange sensation within her breast that she had felt before.

  It made her quiver.

  As if the Marquis were aware of it, he released her hand and turned awkwardly in the direction of the fireplace.

  She knew that he was groping to find something to support him and automatically she moved forward to take his arm and guide him to
his chair.

  As he seated himself, he murmured,

  “Thank you, Rina, I am very grateful to you.”

  “That is – really what I – should be – saying to – you,” Norina replied.

  The Marquis smiled.

  “Then at least we have one thing in common!”

  *

  Luncheon was delicious and served in the most attractive small dining room Norina had ever imagined.

  As they moved back to the salon with Jean assisting the Marquis, he said,

  “We can hardly stay cooped up in the house all day. Where shall we go, Jean?”

  Jean shook his head.

  “There is nowhere, monsieur, where you would not be seen.”

  “I need some air.”

  “If Monsieur sat in the garden behind the bushes, he would be invisible except perhaps for two windows on that side of the house.”

  “Then that is where I shall go,” the Marquis said. “Are you coming too, Rina?”

  “I would like to join you,” Norina said, “but may I first write a letter which I want posted at once?”

  “Of course,” the Marquis agreed.

  She went to the secretaire and wrote a short note to Dawes. She told him where she was staying and with whom, adding,

  “Thank you so very much for all you have done for me. It is very exciting being in Paris and please, let me know if there is any news.”

  She signed it just with her initials and addressed the envelope to Mr. Dawes, c/o Mrs. Rolo.

  The Marquis had gone out into the garden, but Jean had come back to wait for her letter.

  “Will you please post it immediately,” she asked, “and send it to London by the quickest route possible?”

  “I’ll see to it, madame.”

  He took the letter from her and added,

  “It’s good for Monsieur to have someone to talk to.”

  “I am afraid that he will find it very restricting after a little while.”

  “Monsieur’s eyes grow better every day,” Jean replied, “but he must do as he is told and keep them bandaged.”

  He spoke as if he almost suspected Norina of trying to encourage the Marquis to remove the bandage and then she guessed that Jean was used to women who wanted his Master to admire them and they would resent the fact that he could not see them.

  “Monsieur must certainly try to obey the oculist’s orders,” she said aloud and Jean smiled at her.

  He walked away and she was just tidying away the writing paper and putting the pen back on the tray when the door opened.

  She thought Jean must have returned to say that there was something wrong with her letter.

  But when she looked round it was not Jean who had come into the room.

  Instead, there was a smartly dressed man who she knew was French even before he spoke.

  He looked around the salon before he asked,

  “I thought Alexus would be here. Who, may I ask, madame, are you?”

  Norina rose from the chair.

  “The Marquis is not receiving people at the moment, monsieur.”

  The Frenchman laughed.

  “He will receive me. I am one of his oldest friends. I thought he must be up to some mischief when I heard that he was in Paris and had not notified me of his return.”

  “He has notified no one, monsieur,” Norina replied, “because, as I have already said, he is entertaining no one and wishes to be alone.”

  The Frenchman smiled again.

  “Except, madame, for you! You, of course, are the exception.”

  “Oui, monsieur, that is correct,” Norina said, “and so, may I ask you to leave. I will, however, inform Monsieur le Marquis that you have called, if you would be so kind as to give me your name.”

  The Frenchman was obviously astounded at what she said and just stared at her before he said,

  “I am le Vicomte Leporte, and as I have already told you, madame, Alexus’s oldest friend and I have no intention of being turned away as if I was an intruder!”

  “But that, monsieur, is exactly what you are!” Norina retorted. “So I can only beg you to accept my assurance that the Marquis has no wish to see anyone for the moment.”

  She spoke very politely, at the same time firmly.

  The Vicomte stood looking indecisive.

  She knew that he was wondering whether he should defy her or not and she held out her hand.

  “Au revoir, Monsieur le Vicomte!” she said. “I hope we shall meet again in more congenial circumstances.”

  Slowly and with obvious reluctance the Vicomte took her hand and bowed over it.

  Then he walked to the door and as he reached it, he said,

  “Tell Alexus I don’t forgive him for this, but having seen you, madame, I understand the reason for his seclusion.”

  He walked out of the room as he spoke and Norina heard him going down the passage.

  She waited until she was certain that he must have left the house and then quickly she ran out into the garden to where she knew the Marquis was sitting behind some bushes.

  The sunshine was warm on her face as she sped out and across the lawn.

  It was not difficult to guess where the Marquis would be sitting and she turned to where in the distance she could see a yew hedge behind which she was certain he had isolated himself.

  She ran and when she reached him, she found that he was sitting on a wooden seat on which there were satin cushions.

  He was holding his head up into the sunshine that was percolating through the trees.

  She was almost breathless as she sat down beside him, saying,

  “There is – trouble, and – I have come to – tell you what I have done!”

  “Trouble?” the Marquis questioned. “What has happened?”

  Her breath was still coming in gasps as Norina related exactly what had occurred since he had left the salon.

  When she mentioned the Vicomte’s name, the Marquis gave an exclamation.

  “Ramon Leporte! A very old friend, but one of the biggest gossips in the whole of Paris! How the devil did he find out that I was here?”

  “You said – the word would be – ‘carried on the wind’!” Norina replied.

  “I knew I had made a mistake in coming to Paris,” he said. “The servants are so damned silly and whatever I say they will allow my friends, if they are important enough, to enter the house.”

  “Then – what will you do?” Norina asked.

  “We will leave and the sooner the better!”

  “L-leave? But we have only just arrived. Where can we go?”

  “Where I should have gone in the first place,” the Marquis answered, “to my new villa in the South of France!”

  Norina’s eyes widened.

  “Can we really go there?”

  “That is what we are doing,” the Marquis said firmly, “so go back to the house and tell the Major Domo to send for a Courier – not the one we have just used – but a man who is called Breste.”

  The Marquis gave the order sharply and Norina rose from the seat.

  “I will do as you say,” she said, “although I am sad that I shall not see Paris.”

  “If you are very good,” the Marquis said, “and do not make a fuss, I will tell you what we will do. When it is dark, we will drive along the Seine, see Notre Dame and come back along the Rue de l’Opera, when everything will be lit up and be far more glamorous than it looks in the daytime.”

  Norina clasped her hands together.

  “Can we really do that?”

  “I never break my promises,” the Marquis said, “and I hope one day I will be able to show you Paris properly when I can see it myself.”

  “That will be – wonderful!” Norina enthused.

  At the same time she thought it would be something that was very unlikely to happen.

  When the Marquis could see again, she would have to leave him.

  She felt a sudden depression at the thought and then she told hers
elf that it was no use looking ahead.

  She would have a glimpse of Paris, then she would go on to see what she had always longed to see – the South of France.

  ‘I am lucky very very lucky!’ she was saying to herself as she ran back towards the house to carry out the Marquis’s orders.

  Chapter six

  Dawes came out of his Master’s room and paused at the top of the stairs. He saw Bolton letting two men into the house.

  He thought they looked strange, especially one of them and he watched them as they moved across the hall and were shown into the drawing room.

  Bolton came up the stairs to inform Lady Sedgewyn, who had not yet left her bedroom, that she had visitors.

  As he reached the top of the stairs, Dawes said to him,

  “Who are those two men calling in the morning?”

  “One of them’s a queer-looking monk,” Bolton answered, “and the other looks to me like a ferret.”

  He walked past Dawes to knock on her Ladyship’s door.

  The word ‘ferret’ made Dawes think, as he had last week, that Lady Sedgewyn was employing a detective to search for Norina.

  She and Lord Sedgewyn had at first not been particularly perturbed that Norina was staying with friends.

  But when they heard nothing from her, Lord Sedgewyn began to grow anxious about her disappearance.

  “Where the devil is my daughter?” he asked Dawes. “It’s not like her to upset me or to leave London when she has a number of engagements. The Countess tells me that she has been expecting every evening to take her to some ball or other.”

  Dawes was wise and said nothing.

  He thought, however, that Lady Sedgewyn seemed even more perturbed than her husband and he guessed the reason for it.

  Now Dawes slipped along the passage and entered an anteroom next to the drawing room. It was rarely used, except as a card room when there was a large party.

  He closed the door and tiptoed across the room.

  Very gently he eased open the communicating door of the drawing room and as soon as he had done so, he could hear the two men talking.

  He heard the one that Bolton thought looked like a ferret say,

  “Now, this is just up your street and I expects you to remember me when you gets the girl in your hands.”

  “You’ll not be forgotten,” the monk-like man replied.