Too Precious to Lose

by Barbara Cartland

  He spoke English, but with a definite foreign accent.

  They then whispered together in such low voices that Dawes could not hear what they said.

  A few minutes later the door opened and Lady Sedgewyn came in.

  “Good-morning, Mr. Wentover,” she began. “I have been wondering when you would call on me.”

  “I was waiting,” the man called Wentover replied, “until I had some news for your Ladyship and now you’ll be very pleased.”

  “That is what I am hoping!” Lady Sedgewyn replied.

  She must have glanced at the other man present because Wentover said,

  “May I introduce Father Jacques of the Convent of St. Francis.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet your Ladyship,” the monk said slowly.

  “Will you sit down,” Lady Sedgewyn suggested, “and then, Mr. Wentover, you can tell me all that I am waiting to hear.”

  Dawes put an ear to the crack in the door as he started to speak,

  “Following your Ladyship’s instructions, we made every possible enquiry as to the whereabouts of Miss Sedgewyn. We found that she bought a widow’s hat at an emporium in Oxford Street and wore it the next morning to travel with the Marquis de Charlamont to Paris.”

  “With the Marquis!” Lady Sedgewyn exclaimed.

  “That’s right, ma’am. He has, as we understand it, suffered an accident to his eyes. They was bandaged and he travelled incognito on the steamer.”

  “And my stepdaughter, Norina, was with him? But why?”

  “That we have not yet ascertained,” Mr. Wentover replied, “except that, as he’s blind, he might have needed somebody to guide him.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lady Sedgewyn murmured.

  “They arrived in Paris, but after two days,” Mr. Wentover continued, “they left for the South of France, where the Marquis has a villa he’s recently built on a small promontory called Cap d’Estel.”

  “You are quite sure that my stepdaughter is with him?” Lady Sedgewyn asked.

  “There’s no possibility of my being mistaken,” Mr. Wentover answered, “but this, my Lady, is where Father Jacques can be of great help.”

  Lady Sedgewyn looked at the monk.

  He was rather dissolute-looking, she thought, with bags under his eyes. It made her suspect that he was a heavy drinker.

  At the same time she was obviously eager to know what part he was to play.

  “It’s very fortunate,” Mr. Wentover was saying, “that Father Jacques happened to be in England on a mission which he’ll not mind telling you concerns the death of the Earl of Kingswood’s daughter.”

  “The young lady entered my Convent as a postulant,” Father Jacques explained, “but she unfortunately succumbed to a fever, which often occurs in the South of France, and died.”

  Lady Sedgewyn was thinking quickly.

  She remembered hearing that the Earl was an avid gambler and ran up enormous debts at the green baize tables and she also recalled that his daughter had been an heiress.

  “You say that the Earl’s daughter died while in your Convent,” she said to the monk. “What happened to her money?”

  There was a little pause before Father Jacques replied,

  “It is usual for the postulants to make over all their worldly goods to the Convent, but in that instance, because of a previous arrangement, half of what the Lady Imogen owned will go to her father.”

  There was a pregnant pause and then Lady Sedgewyn proposed,

  “If my stepdaughter is taken to your Convent, I am prepared to give you two thousand pounds now for your expenses in finding her and ten thousand pounds on her death as well as another ten thousand pounds when my husband leaves this life.”

  Father Jacques nodded his head.

  “I understand, my Lady, and I will immediately, on my return to France, and I leave tomorrow morning, get in touch with your Ladyship’s stepdaughter.”

  There was a short pause before he added,

  “I am sure she can be – persuaded to worship in our Convent, which is very near to the Cap d’Estel.”

  He accentuated the word ‘persuaded’.

  Dawes did not wait to hear any more.

  He slipped out of the anteroom, left the house by the back door and hurried all the way to the Post Office in Mount Street.

  When he reached it, he said to the man behind the counter,

  “I want to send a telegram to France.”

  “To France?” the man repeated rather stupidly.

  “Yes, France, and don’t let there be any mistake about it!” Dawes insisted.

  He was handed the proper form and very laboriously, because he was not a fluent writer, completed it.

  He was surprised at the charge, but fortunately he had enough money with him.

  Then, wiping his forehead, he left the Post Office and walked slowly back to the house.

  *

  Norina finished dinner and said to the Marquis,

  “That was the most delicious meal I have ever tasted, but then, I say that every night.”

  “The new chef is certainly worth his wages,” the Marquis replied, “and we must thank Jean for finding him.”

  Norina looked round the small dining room. The windows opened onto a wide balcony that overlooked the garden.

  She had never imagined that anything could be so lovely as the villa the Marquis had just finished building.

  Cap d’Estel was a small promontory between Eze and Cap Ferrat on which there was just room for a villa and a small garden.

  It was usual for Noblemen, who built their villas in the South of France, to set them high up above the sea between Nice and Monte Carlo, but the Marquis five years earlier had seen the promontory and he realised that it was for sale, bought it and started building.

  The villa, Norina thought when she first saw it, owed something to the Greek temples, also to an imagination that incorporated the natural landscape.

  To reach the villa one descended from the main road down a twisting drive and then the house itself started halfway towards the rock, which protruded out into the sea and on this the Marquis was now forming a garden.

  When they reached the villa, there was what appeared to be the ground floor, yet there was another below it and two floors above.

  It was far too large for a man alone, but as the Marquis pointed out, he had innumerable relatives who would, when it was completed, continually wish to borrow it from him.

  “It is so lovely and so quiet that I feel people chattering and, of course, gossiping would spoil it,” Norina commented.

  “I am certainly thankful that we have it to ourselves at the moment,” the Marquis remarked, “and, in fact, at this time of the year there are few people to gossip or chatter because this part of France is fashionable only in the spring.”

  “Well, I would rather be here now!” Norina said.

  “It certainly suits our purpose,” the Marquis agreed.

  He rose from the table and walked out onto the balcony that surrounded the villa.

  There was a long flight of marble steps that led from the centre of it down into the garden. There, surprisingly, there were large trees and flowerbeds that had just been planted between the rocks.

  What entranced Norina when she arrived was that there were climbing geraniums everywhere, also a great number of clematis of every sort, flowering over the rocks and even encircling some of the trees.

  “It is a real Fairyland!” she declared.

  The Marquis smiled at the rapture in her voice.

  Now the sun had just set and the sky was still crimson and the first evening stars were twinkling directly overhead.

  “Tell me what you are seeing,” the Marquis asked quietly.

  “I am looking to where the crimson fingers of the sun touch the sea. That is the horizon and I know there are other horizons beyond that.”

  “And you want to reach them all?” the Marquis asked.

  “Of course!” Norina answe
red. “And you have brought me to the first one, but perhaps I will find the others only in my imagination.”

  The Marquis moved beside her.

  They stood in silence until Norina said,

  “The newspapers have come and I know that you are longing to hear what is happening in England, so we had better go inside and I will read them to you.”

  She took him by the arm as she spoke and assisted him along the balcony. They passed through another window into the salon.

  It was a room she found exquisite, all in white with French furniture and pink curtains which were the colour of the geraniums outside.

  She picked up the newspaper and read the headlines, then the editorial.

  The Marquis appeared to be listening to her.

  Yet when she asked what he would like read next, he hesitated. It was as if he had been listening to her voice rather than to what she said.

  She read him a rather dull description of Queen Victoria’s visit to Kew Gardens and an even duller speech made by the Prime Minister, which had been severely criticised by the Opposition.

  Then the door of the salon opened and Jean came in.

  He had a telegram in his hand.

  “This has come from the villa that is on the road above us, madame,” he said. “They regret it has been delayed, but they were away from home and the postman pushed it through the door.”

  “Is it for me?” Norina asked in surprise.

  “Yes, madame,” Jean replied, “but the name of the villa was incorrectly spelled and the postman made a mistake.”

  Norina took it from him.

  She looked at it and saw that not only was the name of the villa misspelt, but so was the Marquis’s.

  “Whom is it from?” the Marquis asked. “I thought that no one knew you were here!”

  It was then Norina guessed who had sent it and tore open the envelope.

  For a moment the writing on the form seemed to swim before her eyes.

  Then she read,

  HIDE QUICK FROM MONK STOP SHE KNOWS WHERE YOU ARE STOP – DAWES.

  She read it again and then gave a shrill cry of horror.

  “What is it? What has happened?” the Marquis asked.

  “I have – to hide! They will – kill me! Please – help me – where – can I go?”

  Norina rose to her feet with the telegram in her hand.

  Now she flung herself down on her knees beside the Marquis’s chair.

  “My stepmother has – found out where I – am! I have to – go away – at once!”

  “Your stepmother!” the Marquis repeated quietly. “So it is she who has made you so frightened!”

  “Sh-she tried to – kill me! I-I was only – saved because – I was not – hungry and gave – my dinner to the – cat and he – d-died at – once!”

  She gave a little gasp and cried,

  “Now that – she knows where I am – she will – come here! She will – kill me – one way or – another! Hide me – please – hide me – !”

  She put out her hands and the Marquis took them in his.

  The strength and pressure of his fingers was comforting.

  “Suppose you start from the beginning,” he said quietly, “and tell me your secret and what all this is about.”

  She would have moved away, but he held her hands and she put her head down against his knee.

  “My – stepmother,” she murmured, “is – wicked – evil – and she – wants my money – the money my mother left me – when she d-died.”

  “But your father is alive?”

  “My father is – Lord Sedgewyn.”

  “I have heard of him,” the Marquis remarked. “I believe he has some racehorses.”

  “A few,” Norina admitted, “but he prefers hunters, and was – very happy in the – country when – my mother was alive. Then – he married – again.”

  “And you say your stepmother wants to kill you?”

  “She thought my father was – very rich – but then she discovered that – the money he spends – is mine and it only – becomes really his if I – die before him.”

  “And she has actually attempted to kill you? I can hardly believe it!”

  “It is – true! It is – true! And I ran away because I – knew no one would – believe me – and if I told – any of my relatives – they would – only say I was being – hysterical and laugh at me!”

  “I believe you,” the Marquis said.

  “Then please – help me! I don’t want to – die! I want to live – and I have been – so – so happy here.”

  The Marquis’s fingers tightened on hers.

  “You are not going to die,” he said. “Do you really think I would allow anyone to kill you?”

  “But – how can you – prevent it? She will put – poison in my food again – or she might get somebody to shoot at me – while I am in the garden. There are a – thousand ways by which I could lose – my life – and no one would ever guess that she had – murdered me!”

  “Who told you that this was what she intended?” the Marquis enquired.

  “It was Dawes. He is Papa’s valet and he has been with us ever since I was a baby – and he is the – only person I can – trust.”

  “So it was he who sent you the telegram!”

  “Yes, and it was Dawes who went to Hunt’s Domestic Agency in Mount Street to find me – somewhere to go, but they – said the only vacancy was – yours. That was – why I was so – frightened that you would – refuse to – employ me.”

  “But I have employed you,” the Marquis said, “and now we have to make certain that this wicked woman does not succeed in her desire to do away with you and gain your money.”

  “Can we – do that? Where – can I – go?”

  “It is quite easy,” the Marquis replied.

  “Easy?” Norina asked.

  “My yacht is in Nice harbour. I sent for it as soon as I arrived.”

  “Your yacht!” Norina breathed. “That means we would be at sea and she could – not approach – me.

  “Not unless she can swim or fly!” the Marquis answered.

  Norina gave a sigh of utter relief and closed her eyes.

  The Marquis put his hand on her hair.

  “You will be quite safe,” he said, “until I am well enough to contact your father or someone who will make sure that your stepmother never tries to kill you again!”

  “I have – been – so afraid,” Norina stammered.

  “Of course you are terrified,” the Marquis answered. “And now that you have told me what has been frightening you, everything will be far easier.”

  “You are – sure of that? But – there is no – reason why – you should become – mixed up in this – horrible situation.”

  “I think, Rina,” the Marquis said, “that we have been together long enough to know that we both have an obligation towards each other.”

  “Now that I have – told you what is – frightening me – you will not – send me – away?”

  “I will tell Jean now that we will join the yacht tomorrow morning. He will send somebody to alert the Captain and we will be aboard before your stepmother or anybody else can be aware of it.”

  “That will be – wonderful!” Norina exclaimed. “And thank you – thank you for – being so – kind to – me.”

  The Marquis stroked her hair and she felt as if the crimson light of the sun was moving through her.

  It was such an unexpected relief to know that she was no longer alone in her fight against her stepmother.

  The Marquis was beside her, defending her and helping her.

  Quite suddenly, because there was no need for her to go on fighting, she felt limp and as if she might collapse.

  “You are tired,” the Marquis said quietly. “Go to bed now and sleep without dreaming. Tomorrow we will leave here and return only when it is safe to do so.”

  “How can – I ever be safe?”

  “I am not certain,” the Ma
rquis said quietly, “but somehow we will find a way.”

  “I will pray – I will pray very hard that you will do so,” Norina said, “and when I say my prayers tonight, I will thank God because you are so understanding.”

  The Marquis’s lips opened and she thought that he was about to say something.

  Then, as if he changed his mind, he said,

  “Go to bed, Rina – if that is really your name.”

  “Actually, it is ‘Norina’. Norina Wyn. I called myself ‘Wyndham’ because it was easy to remember.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “You are always practical, even in a storm. One of the things I most enjoy about you is the way your brain works.”

  Norina looked at him.

  Then, because she felt that there was no other way to thank him, she bent forward and kissed his hand.

  She rose to her feet.

  “Goodnight, monsieur,” she said, “and thank you – thank you!”

  The Marquis did not answer and, as she suddenly felt shy, she ran from the room.

  Only as she walked upstairs to the next floor did she think of a thousand ways that she might have expressed her gratitude better.

  ‘He understands – I am sure he – understands,’ she thought.

  She reached the top of the stairs.

  She knew that Jean had seen her leave the salon and now he would have gone to his Master to guide him to his room.

  To make it easier while his eyes were bandaged, the Marquis slept in a bedroom on the same floor as the salon and the dining room.

  It was not as impressive as his usual bedroom, which he had designed himself. This was on the same floor as the one occupied by Norina and had a fine view of the sea.

  But, as he could not see, it was not for the moment important.

  What was important was that Jean’s room was beside his in case he needed any attention during the night.

  Norina went into her own room.

  There were a number of servants in the villa, but they had a separate house of their own at the back, so once they had retired, there was no noise to disturb the Marquis or anybody else.

  ‘It is so peaceful,’ Norina thought as she undressed.

  How was it possible that her stepmother’s evil hands could reach out to her? Therefore she had to lie and pretend to be somebody other than herself?