Too Precious to Lose

by Barbara Cartland

  She would be safe on the yacht with the Marquis.

  But if anybody knew that she was alone with him and that she was her father’s daughter, her reputation would be ruined for ever.

  ‘What – does it – matter?’ she asked herself.

  At the same time she knew that it would distress her father, and also her mother if she was alive.

  ‘There is – nothing else I – can do,’ she mused, ‘but how can this – go on for – ever?’

  As she asked the question, she was afraid of the answer.

  Because she wanted to sleep rather than to think, she climbed into bed.

  She was just slipping away when suddenly something was placed over her mouth.

  She awoke with a start.

  Before she could realise that it was not just a frightening dream, her mouth had been forced open and a gag tied tightly behind her head.

  She could not utter a sound.

  A rope then encircled her body and something dark and heavy covered her completely.

  She tried to struggle and attempted to scream, but it was useless.

  Strong arms were carrying her from the bed.

  Then she realised in horror that she was supported on ropes and was being let down over the balcony outside her room to the floor below.

  Her feet were bare and she could feel the night air on them.

  What covered her face and most of her body made it almost impossible for her to breathe.

  She knew only that she was being taken away on her stepmother’s orders.

  Long before the Marquis was even aware that she was no longer in the villa she would have been killed.

  Everything that was happening was done so precisely and so cleverly. The men, and she was sure that there were a number of them, made not a sound.

  As she reached the balcony below, two men lifted her in their arms. She guessed that they were carrying her down the flight of steps that led into the garden.

  They were walking across the lawn to the end of the garden, where there were rocks that ended in the sea.

  She thought despairingly that the Marquis would not know where she had been taken and there was no way of telling him.

  Then, as she struggled against the ropes that pinioned her arms to her sides, she was aware that she still wore her mother’s wedding ring.

  Pushing her third finger with her thumb, she managed to loosen it.

  Just at that moment the men came to a stop. She reckoned that they were above the rocks that led into the sea.

  Although there was still very little sound, she could hear the lap of the waves and she felt that there must be a boat waiting.

  She pushed the ring until it slipped from her finger.

  Another moment and it would have been too late. The men moved forward and now she knew that they were standing on the rocks. They passed her to two other men who were standing lower down.

  Then she was handed over to two men in the boat and she could feel it rocking beneath them as they put her down into it.

  The men involved in her kidnap climbed in and started to row.

  The sea was calm as they moved swiftly and without speaking.

  ‘I am lost – I am lost!’ Norina thought. They will – throw me into the – sea and when I am – washed up on the – shore I will be dead!’

  She felt her whole body tense with fear as she waited for the moment when the men lifted her up. Perhaps they would remove the ropes before they pushed her into the water.

  But the oarsmen rowed on and on.

  Suddenly there was the sound of the bow of the boat being embedded in sand.

  She heard two men spring ashore and begin to pull the boat farther from the water.

  When they had done so, they were lifting Norina again.

  Then she knew that she was not going to die, at any rate, not by being drowned.

  At the same time she had no idea where she had been taken, and she could only cry in her heart,

  ‘Save me – save me!’

  She was praying to God, but it was a plea that went out to the Marquis as well.

  How would he know, how could he guess that she had been carried away in this terrifying manner?

  Where would he begin to look for her?

  ‘Help me – oh – help me!’ she cried.

  Then she thought that perhaps because she loved him he would even, if he was asleep, hear her voice calling him.

  She was picked up again.

  Then one man spoke in French, saying to the other,

  “We’ve done that job well! No one heard us and Father Jacques’ll be pleased!”

  “That he will,” another replied, “and if this one’s anything like the last, we’ll all get a good rake-off!”

  “Which is no more than we deserve!” the other man said.

  Father Jacques!

  That must be the monk that Dawes had warned her about.

  How could she have been so stupid? With the telegram coming so late, she should have left the villa tonight and not waited.

  She should not have listened to the Marquis’s idea that they should join the yacht tomorrow.

  ‘Dawes warned – me! He – warned me!’ Norina thought miserably. ‘Only I was too – foolish to understand!’

  Then she was praying again, sending up a cry that came from the very depths of her being to the Marquis.

  ‘Save me – I love you! No one else will – hear me – save me! Save me!’

  It came to her mind as she prayed and cried that she should have let him kiss her once as he had intended.

  Then she would have something to remember as she died.

  Chapter seven

  “Bring me a brandy and soda!” Lord Sedgewyn ordered as he finished his bath.

  When Dawes had one waiting for him, he said,

  “I am tired, Dawes.”

  “You’re doin’ too much, my Lord!” Dawes replied.

  “I know that,” Lord Sedgewyn answered, “but I am also worried about Miss Norina. I wonder where she can be?”

  Dawes did not answer.

  He only helped his Master into his evening coat.

  He was thinking as he did so that his Lordship was much thinner and more lined than he had been even a few weeks earlier.

  Lord Sedgewyn finished his brandy and walked towards the door.

  “Don’t wait up for me, Dawes,” he said. “I don’t expect to be back until the early hours.”

  Dawes watched him as he walked down the passage and thought to himself,

  ‘She’s killin’ ’im, that’s what she’s doin’ with ’er parties and suchlike!’

  He drew in his breath.

  An idea had come to him, and he knew it was something he had to do.

  He tidied the bedroom and waited until he knew that Lord and Lady Sedgewyn would have left the house.

  Then he walked down the corridor.

  As he did so, Miss Jones, her Ladyship’s maid, came out of the bedroom almost bumping into Dawes in her hurry.

  “You’re in a rush!” Dawes said accusingly.

  “I know,” Miss Jones replied. “I’m goin’ out and it’s about time! Toodle-oo!”

  She ran down the corridor and Dawes watched her until she was out of sight.

  Then he went into Lady Sedgewyn’s bedroom.

  He locked the door behind him and started to look for the key of the cabinet that was attached to the wall over her washstand.

  During the years he had been in service, Dawes had grown used to finding keys of safes, despatch boxes, jewellery cases and any number of doors.

  He located the key he wanted under the lining paper in the centre drawer of the dressing table.

  Going to the small cupboard over the washstand, he found what he sought. It was behind some bottles, hair tonics and throat sprays.

  It was a very small bottle, dark and rather sinister-looking and Dawes was certain that it was what he was seeking.

  He pulled out the cork and sniffed it and r
ecognised that he was not mistaken.

  Then he walked to the side of the bed where he knew Miss Jones would have left her Ladyship’s tisane. She drank it every night to make her sleep.

  It was a mixture of honey and herbs, besides, Dawes suspected, a little luminal if she had been very late.

  He poured into it a teaspoonful of the poison.

  He was sure that that was all that would be required and he put the bottle back in the cupboard. He locked it and replaced the key from where he had taken it.

  He walked down the corridor to have his supper.

  He was thinking that he had not only saved his Master to whom he was deeply devoted, but also Miss Norina.

  *

  Norina felt herself deposited roughly on what she thought was a bed.

  Then the heavy material over her head was removed and for a moment she thought she had gone blind.

  Then she realised the room she had been taken to was in darkness.

  She could not even see the men who were removing the ropes that were wound round her body and the ones that tied her ankles together.

  She could only feel their hands touching her and she was too frightened even to breathe.

  One of them pushed her head sideways and undid the gag that was knotted at the back. It had hurt her mouth and her throat was dry.

  Although she wanted to scream, no sound would come.

  Then a rough voice said in French,

  “Voila! You stay here quietly or we’ll gag you up again. The Prior’ll speak to you in the morning.”

  There was the sound of their footsteps walking on a bare floor towards the door.

  Then, as it shut behind them, the key turned in the lock.

  Norina was unable to move.

  She could only lie stiff and terrified, thinking for the moment, at any rate, they had not killed her.

  She was startled by a voice saying in English,

  “Who are you? Do you speak English or parlez-vous Français?”

  In a voice that did not sound like her own, Norina replied,

  “I-I am English.”

  “Oh, good! Now I can talk to someone! But why did you come here?”

  “I-I have been – kidnapped.”

  “That is what they did to me.”

  “Where are we?” Norina asked. “Please – tell me where we are.”

  “We are in the Convent of St. Francis, which is on a small island off the mainland, and I believe that once the monks who lived here were good and holy men, but now they are evil and wicked!”

  “I-I think they are – going to – kill me!” Norina whispered and now there was a break in her voice.

  “They will do that later,” the English girl answered.

  “They – will? H-how do you – know?”

  The girl lowered her voice as if she was afraid that she might be overheard.

  “Every girl who comes here or is kidnapped is rich and they make us sign documents handing over everything we possess to God and the Convent, which is really them!”

  Norina made a little murmur.

  Now she understood why Dawes had warned her against the monk. It was definitely her stepmother who had arranged for her to be brought here.

  When they had killed her, her money would be Violet’s.

  “I suppose you are rich,” the girl asked.

  “I have – some money,” Norina admitted, “but my stepmother – wants it all so I cannot quite – understand what will happen if I make it – over to – the monks.”

  “I expect she will give them half or something like that,” the girl said. “I know that is what will happen where I am concerned.”

  “You have – signed away your – money?” Norina asked.

  “They made me sign the papers, as they will make you.”

  “How will they do that?”

  There was silence before the girl answered,

  “You will learn that tomorrow from the Prior, but I don’t want to frighten you.”

  “I-I would rather – know what to – expect.”

  “They will ask you to sign the documents and, if you refuse, they say you must do penance for your sins and they flog you!”

  Norina gave a little cry.

  “I don’t believe it!”

  “That is what they did to Imogen, who was another English girl who was brought here. When finally she gave in and signed the papers, the next day she was drowned!”

  Norina bit her lip so as not to scream.

  She was afraid that if she did so, the men who had warned her not to make a noise would come back.

  Now she could see the whole plot quite clearly. She knew that unless by some miracle the Marquis could save her she too would be drowned.

  “How can they get away with this?” she asked when she could speak. “Surely somebody will be anxious about the disappearance of these girls?”

  “If they are, they obviously do not complain,” the girl answered, “and my mother’s lover, who has arranged that I shall die, will certainly celebrate my death by drinking more than he usually does!”

  She spoke bitterly, but somehow calmly, which was more upsetting than if she had cried.

  “Surely we can do something?” Norina cried. “I don’t – want to – d-die.”

  “Nor do I,” the girl said. “But the man who has arranged for me to be murdered is giving my mother drugs and, when the money has been shared out by the monks, I am quite sure that he will kill her too.”

  Norina felt she could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  Lying in the darkness, it was like living in some terrible nightmare from which she could not wake up.

  “What is your name?” the girl beside her asked.

  “Norina. What is – yours?”

  “Claire, and my father, when he was alive, was Sir Richard Branson. He was such a kind and wonderful man.”

  “You can only – pray that your father will – help you now,” Norina said, “as I am – praying to my – mother.”

  “Do you really think our prayers will be heard in a place that has been desecrated by thieves and murderers?”

  Norina did not answer.

  She was praying frantically, praying that she would not scream and draw attention to herself, praying that she might yet be saved.

  But only God would know how that was possible.

  Claire did not speak to her any more and Norina realised that she had gone to sleep.

  She herself dozed a little before she was awakened by the light showing through the rough curtains over a window.

  Her first thought was that it might be a way of escape.

  She jumped up to run to it, but when she looked out she knew why it was not barred as she might have expected.

  There was a sheer drop down into the sea.

  The waves were moving gently against the rocks on which the Convent had been built.

  Only the most powerful swimmer, she thought, would be brave enough to dive into the sea not knowing how deep it was.

  As she stood looking at the mist that hung over the sea and as the sun rose, a voice behind her said,

  “There is no escape that way.”

  She turned and saw that Claire was sitting up in the bed next to hers.

  Now she could see that the only furniture in the room were two iron bedsteads and the walls were of ancient stone without any covering.

  Claire was a pretty girl with dark brown hair falling over her shoulders, small features and long-fingered hands which she held out now to Norina.

  “You are lovely!” she exclaimed. “Just as I thought you would be and I am so glad you are here. It has been intimidating with no one to talk to.”

  Norina went back to sit on her bed.

  “Are there any other girls here?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Claire answered. “There are nearly a dozen. Some of them are older than us, but we are the only ones who are English now that Imogen has gone.”

  “Are they all rich?”
>
  “I suppose so, but I speak only a little French. There are some who speak Spanish and others who are Italian.”

  “And you really think the monks intend to – drown them all?”

  “They may have other ways of disposing of them,” Claire replied, “but they certainly drowned Imogen and I suppose – I am next!”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Norina said quickly. “We have to escape or perhaps, if we pray hard enough, somebody I know – will come and – rescue us.”

  “The monks never allow anybody to come onto the island,” Claire replied, “and I think they have guards at the front entrance to the Convent at night.”

  Norina’s heart sank.

  There was the sound of a key being turned in the lock and, as she was wearing only a thin nightgown, she climbed quickly back into bed.

  A man dressed as a monk, but with a hard, ugly, common face, looked round the door.

  “Here’s a robe for you,” he said in French to Norina, throwing it down on the floor, “and you’re both to come down to breakfast immediately.”

  He spoke the words in French in a surly tone and then he pulled the door to again and they heard his footsteps walking away.

  Norina jumped out of bed.

  “Did you understand what he said?” she asked Claire.

  “I understood petit déjeuner,” Claire replied, “and in a moment or two we will hear the bell. If we don’t hurry, there will be nothing left to eat.”

  Norina was putting on the robe, which she realised was that worn by a postulant nun and it was of a very coarse material and, she thought, none too clean.

  There was, however, no use complaining and Claire, who was now out of bed, was putting on her clothes.

  They consisted of a few underclothes in which she must have arrived at the Convent, then a robe which was similar to the one the monk had brought Norina.

  Somewhere in the distance there was the loud clang of a bell and Claire said,

  “Hurry or the other girls will eat everything!”

  She ran off as she spoke and Norina followed her down some twisting, uncarpeted stairs and along a narrow corridor.

  She had a quick glimpse through a window of a statue surrounded by cloisters on each side and then they reached a long low room in which there was a refectory table, where a number of young women were hurrying to sit down.

  On the table there were three loaves of bread and a small amount of butter.