The Duke Is Deceived

by Barbara Cartland

  She then noticed that her sister’s face was powdered.

  There was a touch of colour on her lips that was not completely natural.

  “Are you staying here?” Ursa asked when her sister did not speak. “If you would like some tea, I will order it for you.”

  “I want to talk to you, Ursa.”

  Penelope glanced past her sister at the door and said,

  “I hope you closed the door.”

  Ursa was surprised.

  “I am sure Dawson closed it,” she answered.

  “I don’t want anyone to overhear what I am going to say to you,” Penelope said. “Where is Papa?”

  “He has gone to Amsterdam,” Ursa replied. “He will he away until the end of the week. I know he will be very sorry to have missed you.”

  “To Amsterdam!” Penelope exclaimed. “That is excellent! If he does not return for a week, it is exactly what I want.”

  Ursa looked at her in astonishment.

  “Whatever do you mean? What are you talking about?”

  Her sister bent towards her.

  “Now listen, Ursa, this is very very important and I know you will help me.”

  “I will help you if I can,” Ursa said, “but I cannot think how.”

  It amazed her to think that Penelope with her important friends, her distinguished husband and her glittering jewels, could want any more than she had already.

  Penelope seemed to find what she had to say difficult.

  There was a pause before she went on,

  “I have come to see you, Ursa, because, as I have already said, I need your help and it is something only you can do for me.”

  “Of course I will help you, Penelope,” although it is difficult to think of anything I could give you that you don’t already have.”

  Penelope looked at her.

  Then she said unexpectedly,

  “We don’t look very much alike, but our voices are very similar.”

  “Are they?” Ursa asked. “I have never thought about it.”

  “Of course they are,” Penelope said sharply. “You must remember that, when you used to call to Mama, she often asked ‘is that Penelope or Ursa?’”

  Ursa smiled.

  “I do remember her saying that.”

  “And Papa always used to muddle us up if he could not see us,” Penelope added.

  She spoke as if she was forcing her sister to agree with her.

  Ursa waited.

  She could not understand why this mattered one way or the other.

  “Now what I have come to tell you,” Penelope said, “is that Arthur is going off to see the Sultan of Tangier, who is a very important man.”

  “How interesting!” Ursa remarked. “I remember Papa met him once.”

  “Arthur will not take me with him,” her sister said as if she had not spoken, “arguing that I would be confined with the women in the Sultan’s harem and would not be allowed to take part in any of the discussions, which are always long-drawn-out.”

  “That is quite true!” Ursa murmured.

  “He has insisted that I go instead to stay with his mother, the Dowager Lady Brackley!” Penelope said, her voice sharpening.

  “Where does she live?” Ursa asked.

  “Not very far from here, as it happens,’’ Penelope replied, “but I have no intention of wasting my time shut up with an old woman in the country!”

  “Then why did you not stay in London?” Ursa asked in a puzzled voice.

  “Because Arthur is jealous!” her sister replied. “He is determined I shall not see – someone I want to see while he is away.”

  Ursa stared at Penelope.

  Then she asked,

  “Do you mean – a man?”

  “Of course I mean a man. He is very charming and very attractive and, of course, much younger than Arthur, who is making a ridiculous fuss about him.”

  “So that is why you don’t want to go and stay with his mother,” Ursa said, trying to make sense of what her sister was saying.

  “That is what Arthur wants me to do, but I have no intention of obeying him.”

  Ursa stared at her sister.

  “B-but – he is your husband – you have to!”

  To her surprise, Penelope smiled.

  “Not if you will do as I am asking you to.”

  “What is that? I don’t understand.”

  “Now listen,” Penelope explained. “Arthur’s mother is now naturally getting old and, as a matter of fact, is almost blind.”

  She paused and looked to see if her sister was taking in what she was saying.

  “Are you – suggesting – ?” Ursa began.

  “If you want to help me,” Penelope interrupted, “you will go and stay with the Dowager Lady Brackley, talk to her and read to her – whatever one does with blind people – until Arthur returns.”

  Ursa stared at her sister as if she could not believe what she had heard.

  “B-but – how can I, Penelope? She will know I am not you!”

  “Why should she?” Penelope asked. “She has not seen me more than once or twice. She stays in the country, while I am always in London and, as I have said, our voices are very alike. If you make yourself pleasant to the old woman, she should be grateful, as things are, for anyone taking trouble over her.”

  “But – surely when your – husband returns – ?” Ursa began.

  “By the time Arthur returns,” Penelope said, “I will be back in London, waiting for him. He has promised to let me know exactly when that will be. I will arrange for a groom to ride over to Brackley Park and wait so that you can send me his letter as soon as it arrives to tell me the date of his return.”

  “You mean – I am to – open the letter?”

  “Oh, don’t be so silly, Ursa!” Penelope protested. “If you are pretending to be me, you will be me! You will be ‘Lady Brackley’ to the servants and how are they to know that you are not me?”

  “I am sure I will – make mistakes and do – something and then you will be – furious with me?”

  “If you do, you will break up my marriage and I cannot believe you would want that to happen,” Penelope snapped. “As I have told you, Arthur is very jealous of any man, but especially of Vernon.”

  She stopped and gave a little gasp.

  “I ought not to let you know his name, but he is, I assure you, the most alluring, attractive and handsome man I have ever met in the whole of my life!”

  Ursa stared at her sister.

  “Are you – s-saying, Penelope,” she asked slowly, “that you are – in l-love with him?”

  “Of course I am in love with him!” Penelope declared. “And he is in love with me. We were in despair because we could not be together. Then like a bolt out of the blue came this wonderful opportunity and we can be together while Arthur is away.”

  Ursa stared at her sister before she said in a low voice,

  “But – Penelope – you are – married – you c-cannot mean – ?”

  “Oh, do not be so naïve,” her sister interrupted. “I have told you, I love Vernon and Heaven knows I have been a good wife to Arthur, although he is a hundred and eighty and almost tumbling into the grave!”

  Ursa was shocked, but she thought it would be a mistake to say so.

  “Now, all you have to do,” Penelope said, “is to go to Brackley Park in my place and just remember that you are now Lady Brackley, who is one of the great beauties of London.”

  Now she spoke with a pride in her voice that seemed to ring out.

  Ursa gave a little cry.

  “How can I be like that, Penelope?” she protested. “Look at me, then look at you!”

  “I am not a fool,” Penelope answered. “You are going to look exactly like me. I have brought my lady’s maid with me as well as some of my clothes. She will go with you, although, Heaven knows, I shall miss her.”

  “Your lady’s maid?” Ursa said as if in repeating the words she must sound like a parrot.
>
  Then, as she realised what her sister had said, she asked,

  “Do you mean to say that she knows what you are planning?”

  “My dear Ursa, do stop behaving like a country bumpkin. Of course one has love affairs in London. One has to have someone to open and shut doors, who keeps quiet and who is whole-heartedly devoted to one as Marie is to me.”

  Ursa could find nothing more to say.

  She could only look at her sister helplessly.

  She thought it was the most absurd proposition she had ever listened to.

  At the same time she was well aware that Penelope always got what she wanted.

  Somehow, although she could not think how, she would have to do what she was told.

  As if she knew that she had won the battle, Penelope said,

  “Marie is waiting in the carriage. I am now going to tell her to go upstairs and help you change your clothes. We will then start on the journey to Brackley Park.”

  ‘I cannot – I cannot do it!’ Ursa wanted to say.

  But, as her sister rose resolutely to her feet, she knew that any protest she might make would fall on deaf ears.

  However frightening the idea might be, she had agreed to impersonate Penelope.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ursa stared at herself in the mirror.

  She found it hard to believe that she was looking at her own reflection.

  Penelope had taken her upstairs to where, to her surprise her French lady’s maid, Marie, was waiting.

  She had already unpacked some clothes that were lying on the bed.

  She also looked, Ursa thought, exactly as a French maid should look.

  “Now Marie is going to make you look more like me,” Penelope proposed, “and you will be surprised how different you soon will be from how you look now.”

  She spoke in a scathing manner that made Ursa feel uncomfortable.

  Marie helped her off with her gown and sat her down at the dressing table to arrange her hair.

  She did it in a style, Penelope assured her, that was the very latest fashion.

  It made her look older, more sophisticated and, she admitted, also more attractive.

  She said nothing as Marie powdered her face and added a touch of rouge to her cheeks.

  Ursa thought that her father would not have approved, but it was no use protesting.

  Penelope was telling her what she should know about her life in London.

  “We have a large house in Grosvenor Square,” she said and, because Arthur has given over Brackley Park to his mother, we have a country house near Windsor.”

  She paused for a moment before she added,

  “It is very convenient for Arthur when he has to see so much of Queen Victoria.”

  Ursa knew that she was meant to be impressed and she said,

  “Does he not miss the house he was brought up in?”

  “No, it is too far from London,” Penelope answered, “and, as his mother is happy there, he thought it would be a mistake to move her into the Dower House, which is small and ugly.”

  Ursa said nothing and after a moment Penelope said,

  “To be honest, I have no wish to bury myself in this part of the country. I had quite enough of it when I was a girl and I remember how dull it was.”

  “Oh, Penelope,” Ursa protested, “we were very happy, you know we were! And when Mama was alive we used to have the most amusing children’s parties.”

  “You may have been amused by them,” Penelope said, “but you are younger than me. I soon grew bored with those dull youths.”

  She glanced at herself in the mirror and added,

  “It was very different when I went to London and found that practically every man in the Social world wanted to dance with me. They paid me compliments and, of course, they wanted to kiss me.”

  “But naturally you did not let them!” Ursa said quickly.

  Penelope did not answer and Ursa exclaimed,

  “You did! Oh, Penelope, Mama would have been horrified if she had known.”

  “That is only because she lived here in the country where everybody is prudish and ultra-respectable,” Penelope retorted. “Now things have changed and I can assure you, Ursa, that there are a great number of young men longing for my favours – and one in particular!”

  She said the last words in a soft voice.

  Ursa knew that she was referring to the man she was going to meet.

  It was he who was responsible for this extraordinary charade in which she had to play a leading part.

  She thought as well that it was very indiscreet of Penelope to speak in such a way in front of her lady’s maid.

  Marie finished by putting lip salve on her lips and, to Ursa’s astonishment, some mascara on her eyelashes.

  It made her eyes look enormous.

  She also realised for the first time that Penelope’s eyelashes were much darker than her hair.

  “Now the gown!” Penelope said sharply. “And we have to hurry if we are to reach Brackley Park by teatime.”

  “Surely you are not coming with me?” Ursa asked.

  “Of course not,” Penelope snapped. “Don’t be so foolish!”

  Because Penelope obviously did not intend to say any more, Ursa remained silent.

  She let Marie help her into an elegant gown that was very much like the one her sister was wearing.

  It was pale blue with a short jacket in a deeper shade.

  “Oh, Penelope, how lovely!” Ursa exclaimed. “Are you sure you can spare this beautiful gown?”

  “To be truthful, it is one I don’t wear as I do not like myself in blue,” Penelope answered. “It cost a great deal of money however, as did the other gowns I have brought you.”

  “I will be very careful of them,” Ursa promised.

  “I have finished with them,” Penelope replied, “so they will be sent to a charity, where I usually send the things I no longer want. I can assure you, the nuns are always extremely grateful.”

  “I feel sure they are,” Ursa murmured.

  She could not help thinking that it was just like Penelope not to part with anything she valued personally.

  Marie placed an extremely attractive hat on her head that matched the gown.

  It was trimmed with what Ursa realised were expensive silk flowers.

  “I have given you three other hats,” Penelope said, “and Marie will tell you on which occasions to wear them, just as she knows exactly what you should wear for dinner.”

  She gave a little laugh without any humour in it as she went on,

  “I expect you will dine alone with my mother-in-law and I am sorry for you. But you will have to tell yourself you are doing a kindly act to help me, for which I am extremely grateful!”

  Marie then produced a pair of expensive shoes with high heels.

  Next she gave Ursa a handbag and a pair of gloves.

  “You are ready at last!” Penelope said. “We must leave at once, it will take us at least an hour and a half to reach Brackley Park.”

  Marie packed the cosmetics into a small box.

  It was then that Penelope gave a scream.

  “I have forgotten!” she cried. “For goodness sake, Marie, how could you let me forget?”

  “What have you forgotten?” Ursa asked.

  “A wedding ring!” Penelope answered. “You are supposed to be a married woman!”

  She turned to her maid.

  “Really, Marie, it is too careless of you!”

  Marie murmured,

  “A qui la faute”, which Ursa knew meant, “whose fault is that?”

  She then opened a leather jewel case.

  Penelope searched in it saying as she did so,

  “You are also supposed to be a rich woman. Of course I cannot lend you anything very valuable, but here are some earrings that I never wear as they are not spectacular enough and here is your wedding ring and a diamond ring to go with it.”

  “I hope I don’t lose anything,” Ur
sa muttered.

  “Oh, they are not the best stones!” Penelope replied casually. “In fact the diamond ring was given to me by one of Arthur’s relations who, although she is very rich, is also very mean. Otherwise she would have spent more on it!”

  Ursa put the rings on the third finger of her left hand.

  Penelope went on,

  “I have also brought a small diamond star that was given to me by Arthur’s mother. So you may tell her you are wearing it, which will please her. It would be a mistake to lose that, as Arthur would be upset. But he has given me so many magnificent jewels, because I insisted on it, that I never wear the star or the rather small pearl necklace, which you can wear in the evening.”

  “I will be very careful,” Ursa promised, “but I have, as you know, some of Mama’s jewellery, which I can wear, if you want me to.”

  “As my mother-in-law can barely see, it will only be a waste of time.” Penelope answered, “and anyway, I am sure they are locked away in the safe and it would take time to get them out.”

  She spoke sharply and looked at the clock as she spoke.

  Ursa picked up her bag.

  As they went down the stairs, the footman came hurrying along the corridor to collect the trunk.

  As they reached the hall, Ursa said,

  “I must tell the servants that I am going away, otherwise they will be wondering what has become of me.”

  “I will tell Dawson,” Penelope said, “and I think it would be a mistake for his wife or those chattering creatures in the kitchen, to see you.”

  “Yes – of course – I had not thought – of that,” Ursa replied quickly.

  She had for the moment forgotten that she had been transformed into an imitation of her sister.

  “Get into the carriage as fast as you can!” Penelope ordered. “I will talk to Dawson. He too is getting old and blind and I doubt that, being a man, he will notice any particular difference in you.”

  She spoke in a low voice.

  Then as Dawson, aware that they had come downstairs, came into the hall, Penelope went up to him.

  “It has been delightful to see you again, Dawson! Do tell Mrs. Dawson that I am so sorry I am in a hurry and have not time to come into the kitchen and talk to her. But I am taking Miss Ursa away with me for a few days, which I am sure will make a pleasant change for her.’’