Forced to Marry

by Barbara Cartland

Lord Locke might think that her grandfather was being extremely difficult. She knew, as she had told him, that she had never known him so amenable.

  In his own way he had been somewhat content with what had been arranged.

  ‘He is really quite pleased,’ she thought, ‘that I am to marry Lord Locke and that the two estates are to be joined.’

  It seemed wrong to deceive what was a dying man.

  She persuaded herself, however, that it was excusable.

  Nothing could be more ghastly than to be married to either Vincent or Jonathan.

  “If you’re a-goin’ out to dinner, miss, what gown are you goin’ to wear?” the housemaid who always looked after her asked.

  It was then that Gytha awoke to a cold reality.

  She would be attending a very fashionable dinner party with Lord Locke’s friends and she had nothing suitable to wear.

  There had never been any point in buying any elegant gowns and, even if she could have persuaded her grandfather to provide them for her, there had seemed to be no need.

  There had been nowhere for her to go.

  She ate her dinner alone on a tray in the sitting room that opened out of her bedroom.

  Occasionally when her cousins or other relations were in the house, they ate in the big dining room.

  ‘How can I go to Locke Hall in anything I have at the moment?’ Gytha asked herself in a panic.

  How could she appear like Cinderella or worse, the goose-girl at the feast?

  Yet Lord Locke had said that he would tell just the few intimate friends that they were engaged to be married.

  She knew that she must not let him down.

  He had been so kind and so understanding!

  Finally she let Emily help her into a simple gown of sprigged muslin, the seamstress who came to the house to repair the linen had made it for her.

  The muslin was from a roll of material that her mother had bought several years before she died.

  The seamstress had copied it painstakingly from a gown illustration in The Ladies Journal and the caption read that it was worn by one of the most beautiful hostesses in London.

  Gytha feared that it was very inadequate, yet it was certainly better than anything else she possessed.

  Actually, because she was so slim, it made her look very young.

  At the same time insubstantial, as if she was not human but a nymph from the woods.

  There were ribbons the very pale green of young leaves that crossed over her breast and cascaded down her back.

  The gown was trimmed at the hem and around the small puffed sleeves with little frills of its own material. Then it was edged with narrow shadow lace that might have been made by fairy fingers.

  The only jewellery that Gytha possessed was a necklace of small pearls.

  Her father had given it to her mother on the first anniversary of their Wedding and he had never had much money to spend.

  Sir Robert believed that anything in the way of presents should be made only by him and not by anybody else.

  The pearl necklace had therefore been her mother’s most prized possession.

  As she put it on, Gytha prayed that her mother would guide and help her.

  She was sure that her father had protected her and saved her from having to marry one of her dreadful cousins.

  She said a little prayer to both of them.

  ‘Thank you, Papa, for saving Lord Locke’s life so that he felt under an obligation to help me and help me, Mama, so that he will not feel ashamed of me tonight.’

  When the carriage arrived, it was larger and more luxurious than she had expected.

  It was drawn by far better horses than anything in her grandfather’s stables.

  The footman covered her knees with a fur rug as she drove away.

  Gytha wished she did not feel so shy and so frightened.

  This was, in fact, an adventure that she thought one day, if she ever did marry, she could tell the story to her children.

  It was, of course, wildly exciting to be going back to Locke Hall.

  She had been inside it today for the first time in her life and she would be able to talk to and look at Lord Locke himself.

  Never had she dreamt when she had watched him win a steeplechase or saw him out hunting that she would ever have the chance to even talk to him.

  Let alone, through an outrageous suggestion of her own, had she dreamt that she would pretend to be engaged to him.

  ‘I am grateful – so very – grateful,’ she whispered to herself.

  The carriage turned into the courtyard outside Locke Hall and she could see the red carpet laid down over the grey stone steps.

  The light was shining through the open front door.

  The footmen in their elaborate livery were waiting.

  She felt her heart beating tumultuously.

  Her shyness made her want to run away and hide.

  Then a pride that she had not realised she possessed came to her rescue.

  As she stepped from the carriage, she walked slowly and with what she hoped was dignity up the red-carpeted steps.

  She reached the brilliantly lit hall.

  “Good evening, miss,” Bates said respectfully. “It’s a great pleasure to welcome you back here again.”

  Gytha gave him a little smile.

  He escorted her across the hall past a door that she supposed would lead into the Grand Salon.

  Turning right he led her down a passage.

  As Bates stopped, she remembered this was where she had been that afternoon.

  It was, in fact, Lord Locke’s study.

  “Miss Gytha Sullivan,” Bates announced.

  As she entered, Gytha saw that there were two men in the room.

  One of them was Lord Locke, resplendent in his evening clothes with knee-breeches and silk stockings.

  The other was the young man she had met that afternoon and who was called ‘Perry’.

  Lord Locke walked towards her.

  When he reached her, to her surprise he took her hand in his.

  And he raised it Continental fashion perfunctorily to his lips.

  “You are very punctual,” he began, “and I am indeed grateful.”

  “I hear, Miss Sullivan,” Perry interposed, “that I have to congratulate my friend Valiant and may I wish you every happiness.”

  “Thank – you,” Gytha replied in a low voice.

  “I want to tell you – ” Lord Locke started to say.

  Before he could say anything more, the door opened.

  The most beautiful woman that Gytha could ever have imagined came in.

  Her gown was fantastic.

  At the same time its low décolletage and almost transparent skirt seemed outrageous and the jewels she wore looked worth a King’s ransom.

  The woman walked with a feline grace towards Lord Locke and slipped her arm through his.

  “I was told you wanted to see me particularly, Valiant,” she said in a voice of velvet, “and I thought that meant we should be alone.”

  “I asked you to come to see me here before you went into the salon,” Lord Locke replied, “because, Zuleika, I wanted to let you into a secret that will not be made public for some time.”

  “A secret? What secret could you have from me, my dearest?” Zuleika asked.

  “I want you,” Lord Locke replied slowly, “to meet my fiancée, Miss Gytha Sullivan.”

  For a moment there was a strange silence.

  Gytha felt as if everybody in the room had been turned to stone.

  Then with what she knew was an effort, Lord Locke added,

  “Gytha, this is a very old friend of mine, the Princess Zuleika El Saladin, who I wanted to be one of the first to congratulate us, together with my other old friend, Perry, whom you met this afternoon.”

  Again there was that strange poignant silence.

  Then, as Gytha looked at the Princess, she saw her dark eyes narrow and there was an expression on her face that was not only
one of surprise.

  It also, Gytha thought, betokened danger and what she could only describe to herself as evil.

  Then, in dulcet tones that were quite obviously insincere, Zuleika said,

  “This is a surprise, a very great surprise and, of course, I must wish you good fortune and that you will be happy with such a charming if very young – bride.”

  As she spoke, Gytha knew at once that the Princess was an unrelenting implacable enemy.

  As dangerous as a cobra.

  Chapter four

  When she awoke, Gytha lay thinking of what had happened the previous evening.

  It had all been very exciting.

  Dinner had been in a beautiful dining room decorated with Adam furniture and its alcoves were filled with statues of Greek Gods.

  The conversation was as unexpected as the room.

  Gytha had thought that she would feel gauche and countrified and she expected to have nothing to say to Lord Locke’s fashionable friends.

  Perry, however, was on her left.

  He immediately began to talk about horses, while Lord Locke on her other side soon joined in.

  Because the only interest available to Gytha at The Hall was horses, she not only loved them but had read about them.

  She followed all the races that were reported in the newspapers and she had learnt the history of racing through the ages.

  This was easy because her father’s library had been moved to her grandfather’s house and it contained a great number of books on breeding.

  There were others on the development of carriage horses ever since the chariot races in Roman times.

  She therefore found it easy to talk about form and she knew which Classic races had been won by Lord Locke.

  Now she began to appreciate how preoccupied every man at the party was with this particular sport.

  Gytha’s reading had not been confined only to one subject.

  Her mother had been extremely interested in the religions of the East.

  Her maternal grandfather, whom she had known only when she was a child, had been a great traveller.

  He had visited countries where few white men had ever set foot and he had written down his adventures meticulously.

  He had also written about his impressions and everything that he had found of interest on his travels.

  Because his handwriting was sometimes almost illegible, Gytha had copied it out in her clear, flowing hand. She enjoyed doing it because every word she transcribed seemed so enthralling.

  She was also especially interested in the War with Napoleon and this was because her father had been in the Army.

  She had read every book that had been published about the Duke of Wellington and Napoleon Bonaparte.

  So she had a great deal to talk about to her male dinner companions.

  Until dinner was over she never gave a thought to herself or to her appearance nor did she think that she might be expected to be shy.

  But when the ladies left the gentlemen to their port and proceeded to the salon, she became acutely aware of Princess Zuleika.

  Lord Locke had made one thing clear before dinner.

  Since they were short of ladies, those that were there would have to be dispersed round the table.

  He asked the Princess to sit at the far end opposite him.

  Her dark eyes flashed and it was as if she realised that he was deliberately excluding her from being close to him.

  But she could not refuse.

  Instead Lord Locke had on one side of him the very attractive second wife of the Lord Lieutenant. She was apparently trying desperately after a childless marriage to beget an heir.

  It was obvious what many of the other guests who came from neighbouring houses thought it strange that Gytha, a young girl, was sitting next to their host.

  She knew perceptively the reason why he had put her there.

  It was that he wanted to impress on Princess Zuleika the importance of the secret he had confided to her.

  Gytha was not so foolish that she did not realise that the Princess was in love with Lord Locke and she obviously considered that he belonged to her exclusively.

  She told herself humbly that he was prepared to help her as a debt of gratitude as her father had saved his life.

  But his affections could not fail to be captivated by the exotic beauty of the Princess.

  She thought therefore that it was extremely brave and very chivalrous of him to protect her at the expense of making things uncomfortable for himself.

  She only wondered why, since they were such good friends, he did not tell the Princess the truth.

  Then she thought that he probably was wise not to confide in anybody.

  Not even so close a friend as the Princess must know that there was anything unusual about their engagement.

  No woman could resist passing on so sensational a secret to somebody else.

  No woman could really be trusted not to make an intriguing story out of Lord Locke paying a debt of honour in such an odd way.

  With a little sigh of relief Gytha thought that no one would know the truth until her grandfather died.

  This meant that she would be safe.

  At least, until that happened, from Vincent and Jonathan.

  Another idea had passed through her mind.

  When her cousins learnt that she was no longer protected by Lord Locke, they might pursue her for her fortune.

  By that time, however, she was sure that she would have made plans.

  She would be with somebody who could deal with fortune-hunters and perhaps as well with other pursuers not so obviously unpleasant.

  When the ladies reached the salon, where they had met before dinner, the Princess spoke to Gytha for the first time having deliberately ignored her when Lord Locke had taken her and Perry into the salon.

  Quite a number of the house party were already assembled there.

  There were two extremely attractive ladies, who were introduced to Gytha as Lady Compton and the Countess Blackstone.

  They had looked her up and down in an almost contemptuous manner and they obviously considered her a country bumpkin of no consequence.

  After the introduction they made no further effort to speak to her again.

  The guests from neighbouring houses expressed their surprise at seeing Gytha.

  Since her mother’s death she had been living in virtual seclusion alone with her grandfather and she was therefore almost a stranger to them.

  Only Lady Wakefield, who was slightly older than the others, said with undisguised candour,

  “I never thought after all the animosity between your grandfather and the old Lord Locke that I would see you here at Locke Hall.”

  “I am a little surprised myself to be here,” Gytha replied. “But happily Grandpapa has agreed that it is ridiculous to go on fighting over Monk’s Wood.”

  “I am glad to hear that,” Lady Wakefield said, “but if the feud is now over, what shall we find to talk about in the County?”

  It was certain, Gytha thought, to be a topic of conversation at least for the moment!

  She could hear Lady Wakefield later telling two of Lord Locke’s guests that the two old gentlemen had raged at each other for years.

  She reiterated how amusing everybody had found their anger and their hatred of each other.

  As they returned to the salon after dinner, Gytha thought that it would be a good idea to talk to Lady Wakefield.

  She was just moving towards her when the Princess came up to her.

  She could no longer disguise the anger and hatred in her eyes and her red lips twisted in an ugly manner as she asked,

  “Where have you come from, Miss Sullivan, and why had I not heard of you before?”

  “I live next door,” Gytha explained. “My grandfather’s estate and Lord Locke’s march with each other.”

  “And you really think you are fit to marry anyone so handsome and so attractive as his Lordship?”

&nbs
p; She seemed almost to spit the words at Gytha, who felt her heart beginning to beat tumultuously.

  At the same time she managed to reply quietly,

  “As you have been informed, any arrangement there is between us is a secret.”

  She lowered her voice as she spoke and it indicated that she thought the Princess was being indiscreet.

  For the moment the other ladies could not overhear their conversation.

  Then the Princess came a step nearer to her as she said,

  “If you think you can take him away from me, you are mistaken! He is mine, do you understand? Mine! If you try to come between us you will be sorry, very sorry for your presumption!”

  The words conveyed an undisguised threat.

  They were spoken with a slight accent that could make the Princess’s voice seductively alluring but now undeniably intimidating.

  Gytha felt herself tremble.

  Then she told herself she need not be afraid of this woman.

  The Princess was, to say the least of it, behaving in a very unladylike manner.

  Lifting her chin, Gytha deliberately walked past her and across the room to where Lady Wakefield was sitting on a comfortable sofa.

  As she did so, she was conscious that the Princess’s animosity vibrated after her.

  It was almost as if she had fired a pistol at her from behind.

  Lady Wakefield was only too willing to talk to Gytha.

  “Finding you here tonight, I feel ashamed that I have not invited you to my house since your mother’s death, but to tell you the truth, we are all a little afraid of your grandfather and realise that he does not welcome visitors.”

  “Grandpapa is very ill,” Gytha told her, “and, of course, I was in mourning until the summer.”

  “Now that you are going out and about again,” Lady Wakefield continued, “you must come to luncheon with me. In two weeks’ time I will have some young people staying with me, so I will give a dinner party and you can dance afterwards.”

  She paused and added,

  “Perhaps you can persuade Lord Locke to join us.”

  There was an expression in Lady Wakefield’s eyes which told Gytha that she would consider it a ‘feather in her cap’ to have Lord Locke as her guest.

  After a moment, as if she could not retain her curiosity any longer, Lady Wakefield asked,

  “Have you known Lord Locke for long? If you have, it seems extraordinary you should have met considering the warfare that has raged between your two families for so long.”