As Ursa joined her, she said,
“I have been thinking, Penelope dear, of what book we should read, and I want one that will interest you as much as it would interest me.”
“I think I am interested in every part of the world,” Ursa replied.
Only just in time did she stop herself from saying that she had travelled a great deal.
She had no idea whether or not Penelope had been abroad since her honeymoon.
If she had, it would very likely have been no further than to Paris.
She would have found that City even gayer than London.
Penelope would certainly not have gone to any of the strange places she had travelled to with her father and they had often been very primitive.
The Dowager was following her own train of thought,
“Naturally, I am particularly interested in Greece,” she said, “but you may find that country rather dull.”
“Oh, no, indeed, ma’am, I am fascinated by Greece,” Ursa replied. “But why does it interest you?”
The Dowager smiled.
“Surely Arthur has told you that I have Greek blood in my veins?”
“Of course I remember now,” Ursa replied apologetically, “but do tell me how.”
“My mother was half-Greek,” the Dowager began, “for her father, who was, of course, my grandfather, came from the ancient and well-known Greek family of Damacios.”
“How fascinating!” Ursa exclaimed. “Then, of course, we must read a book about Greece and especially Delphi, which has always intrigued me.”
As she finished speaking, the door opened and Johnson came in to announce,
“Dinner is served, my Lady.”
He crossed the room to help the Dowager to her feet.
Holding onto his arm the Dowager walked slowly down the corridor with Ursa following them.
When they sat down to dinner, she saw that Johnson cut up the Dowager’s food for her.
She ate most of it with a spoon.
She did so very tidily and Ursa thought it clever of her not to make a mess in any way.
The food was excellent, but very English.
Ursa wondered what her hostess would think if she described the strange food she had eaten when she had been in foreign countries with her father.
Then she remembered that someone had once told her that, if you had to disguise yourself, you not only had to look and speak but to think like whoever you were pretending to be.
‘I must think like Penelope,’ she told herself with determination.
Then she almost laughed aloud.
The Dowager obviously enjoyed having somebody to talk to instead of being alone.
She told Ursa stories of her son, Arthur, when he was a little boy.
She also said that his father had insisted upon his being well educated.
“My husband, if he was alive,” she said, “would have been so delighted that Arthur has become such an expert on Foreign Affairs.”
“It means naturally that he has to go abroad quite often,” Ursa replied, hoping that this was the truth.
“But not as often as he used to,” the Dowager replied. “I do feel sorry for you, Penelope dear, thinking of you being left alone in London, while Arthur is travelling about Europe.”
Ursa could not help thinking that her sister was not alone!
Then she told herself that she was being censorious, and there was also a possibility that the Dowager could read her thoughts.
She therefore told her of things Penelope had done when she was a child.
She described their house and the garden.
“I love flowers,” the Dowager said. “The one consolation in not being able to see them is that I can still smell their fragrance.”
“I have always been told that people who are blind have, through their other senses, a more acute appreciation of other things – like music,” Ursa said, “and, of course, the scent of flowers.”
“I think that is true,” the Dowager agreed.
Dinner did not take very long as there were only three courses.
Then Johnson escorted the Dowager back to the drawing room.
When he had left, Ursa said,
“Shall I go now to the library for a book or should we wait until tomorrow?”
“I am enjoying just talking to you so much, Penelope dear,” the Dowager said, “that I think we will wait until tomorrow.”
As she spoke, the drawing room door opened and Johnson announced,
“The Marquis of Charnwood, my Lady.”
Ursa looked round in surprise and the Dowager gave a delighted cry.
As she did so, a tall, handsome young man came hurrying into the room.
“Good evening, Grandmama,” he said, “I am sure you are surprised to see me.”
The Dowager held out both her hands.
“Guy, is it really you? I can hardly believe it!”
The Marquis took her hands in his and bent to kiss her cheek.
“It’s really me!” he said. “I came back to England three days ago.”
“I was beginning to think that I would never see you again,” the Dowager sighed, “and it is very exciting that you are here.”
“Hale and hearty!” the Marquis replied. “At the same time I am in trouble, Grandmama!”
“Trouble? Oh, Guy, what has happened now?” the Dowager exclaimed.
Then, as if she suddenly remembered that they were not alone, she said,
“You know Penelope – Arthur’s wife – of course!”
As she spoke, Ursa drew in her breath.
It flashed through her mind that she was about to be exposed.
The Marquis, however, held out his hand and said,
“No, Grandmama. In fact we have never met. I was abroad when they were married and have been ever since or in the country.”
He paused and smiled at Ursa and then continued,
“But, of course, I have heard a great deal about the beautiful Lady Brackley.”
“You have never met each other?” the Dowager queried in surprise. “Then it’s very fortunate that she is here to keep me company, because Arthur has gone to Tangier.”
The Marquis smiled.
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Penelope, if I may now so call you?” he said to Ursa. “I met a friend of yours a few months ago who was ecstatic over how lovely you were. Now I see that he was not mistaken!”
Ursa hoped that she would not blush, as she was sure Penelope would not have done.
But she felt shy because she was not used to compliments.
Nor, she thought, on all her travels had she ever met a man as handsome as the Marquis.
“You say you are in trouble, Guy?” the Dowager asked questioningly.
“I am in deep trouble, Grandmama,” the Marquis said, “and that is why I have rushed here from Charnwood, to beg you to help me.”
He pulled up an armchair beside her and sat down.
As he did so, Johnson came in with a bottle of champagne on a silver tray, which he set down on a small table next to the Marquis.
“Pour me out a glass, Johnson,” the Marquis said. “At the speed I have been travelling, I need it.”
“Your Lordship’s coachman has taken the horses to the stable, my Lord,” Johnson replied, “and I understand your Lordship is to stay the night with us?”
“I would like to, if you will have me, Grandmama,” the Marquis said to the Dowager. “I don’t particularly want to drive home in the dark.”
“No, of course you must not do that,” the Dowager agreed, “and you know how delighted I am to have you.”
Johnson poured out the champagne and then left the room.
The Marquis sipped a little before he said,
“Now I will tell you why I have come.”
Ursa looked at him and suggested,
“Perhaps you would prefer to be alone with your grandmother. In which case, I will retire.”
“No, no not a
t all,” the Marquis quickly replied. “You are part of the family and it is, I assure you, very much a family problem.”
Ursa had half-risen from her seat and she sank down again.
The Marquis put his hand into the inside pocket of his coat and drew out a letter.
He glanced at it, then put it down on his knee and began,
“As you know, Grandmama, I went out to India at the invitation of the Viceroy. He entertained me royally and I enjoyed myself enormously. While I was in Calcutta, I was shown over two of our Battleships there and found that they lacked the latest armament and improved equipment.”
He paused and then continued,
“I mean such as is designed for the Battleships that are being built at the moment in this country.”
The Dowager smiled.
“You were always crazy about ships when you were a little boy,” she said. “We really should have sent you into the Navy.”
“I have often thought that myself,” the Marquis replied. “Anyway, I am now very involved in Naval affairs.”
“How is that?” the Dowager asked.
“It was when I was supervising modernisation of the Battleships in India that I received an invitation from Alexis Orestes.”
“A Greek!” the Dowager exclaimed.
“A very important one,” the Marquis replied. “He holds a position in Athens that I can only describe as equivalent to our First Lord of the Admiralty.”
“And you had an invitation from him!” the Dowager queried.
“It was more or less a command,” the Marquis smiled, “because in the name of the King of Greece he asked me to visit Athens on my way home from India.”
“How exciting!” the Dowager murmured.
“When I arrived there, I found that the King had been advised by Orestes to order two new Battleships for the Greek Navy. He wanted them to be built in Britain and I was to ensure that they contained all the new equipment I had talked about when I was in India.”
“Oh, Guy, how splendid!” the Dowager said. “It is obviously something you will enjoy doing.”
“I was delighted when I was told,” the Marquis said, “and there was no doubt that the Greek Navy needs bringing up to date.”
“Then where is your problem?” the Dowager enquired.
The Marquis picked up the letter he had put on his knee.
“This is it, Grandmama,” he said, “a letter I received early this morning from Orestes. I want you to translate it for me. I have an idea of what it contains, but while I can speak enough Greek to make myself understood, at least in a restaurant, I find it extremely difficult to read.”
“But surely,” the Dowager said, “you have plenty of people to do that for you?”
There was a silence before the Marquis replied,
“What this letter contains is, I believe, from what I can understand of it, a strictly private affair which I don’t wish to be known or talked about by anyone, except my own family.”
“I understand,” the Dowager said quickly. “So read me the letter, Guy, and I will translate it for you.”
The Marquis picked up the letter and started to read it aloud.
It was obvious to Ursa that he did not understand what he was trying to read.
Impulsively and without thinking Ursa asked,
“Would you let me read it for you?”
The Marquis looked at her in surprise.
“You can read Greek?” he asked.
Too late Ursa realised that she should have pleaded ignorance.
Penelope hated foreign languages and never made any attempt to speak them.
But before she could think of an explanation as to why she could speak Greek, the Dowager said,
“But, of course, Penelope can speak Greek as well, I am sure, as many other languages. After all Guy, you know her father is Matthew Hollington.”
“Yes, of course!” the Marquis exclaimed. “I had forgotten that and I can only say how grateful I am that you are here at this particular moment when I need you!”
He held out the two pages of the letter as he spoke and Ursa took them from him.
She glanced at them and saw that they were written in a clear hand and for her, at any rate, this made it easy to interpret.
Slowly, in her quiet gentle voice she translated,
“My dear Marquis of Charnwood,
It gave me very great pleasure to see you when you came to Greece at my invitation and His Majesty the King was delighted with the proposition you made and that you will personally attend to the building and outfitting of the two Battleships we have ordered.
I am now writing to you to say that at the request of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, I shall be arriving in England at about the same time as you receive this letter, which I am sending via the Diplomatic Courier.
I am due at Windsor Castle on Monday the 12th of July when I have a special audience with Her Majesty.
I am, however, arriving on Saturday so that I can take the opportunity of accepting your very kind invitation to visit Charnwood Court.
I am bringing with me my daughter, Amelia, who is as anxious as I am to see you again. I thought in Athens how admirably suited you two young people were to each other and nothing would give me greater pleasure if, when we are at Charnwood Court, you would ask my permission to make her a member of your family.
In view of your most kind and sincere offer of hospitality, Amelia and I will arrive at your ancestral home on Saturday afternoon.
The Greek Embassy are making all the arrangements and we look forward eagerly to being united with you again.
With the felicitations of His Majesty and the good wishes of my wife and other members of my family,
I remain,
Yours with deepest sincerity,
Alexis Orestes.”
The Marquis stopped speaking and for a moment there was complete silence.
Then the Dowager said,
“It is quite obvious what he is suggesting. Do you, my dear boy, wish to marry this girl?”
“No, of course not!” the Marquis responded emphatically.
“But you must have given her reason to believe that you were fond of her.”
The Marquis made a helpless gesture with his hand.
“I was making sure, Grandmama, that the Greeks bought our Battleships. The man with the power to say yes or no to anything I suggested was Orestes. I went to see him at his home and, as you know, hospitality in Greece is very much a family affair.”
He paused before he went on,
“They were all there – quite a number of them – not only his daughters and sons, but also his grandmother, aunts, uncles, the whole caboodle, as well as this young woman called Amelia. She is the oldest daughter and, as she sat next to me at mealtimes, I naturally paid her compliments and set out to make myself charming.”
The Marquis sighed.
“It never for one moment entered my head that he might wish his daughter to marry me!”
The Dowager smiled.
“My dear Guy, you are not only a Marquis, you are also a very attractive young man.”
“At that particular time my mind was more on Battleships than women!” the Marquis remarked dryly.
“But she was thinking of you!”
“I can see that now,” the Marquis said. “Grandmama, what am I to do? I cannot refuse to see him and, if he feels insulted, he may tell the Queen on Monday that Greece will look elsewhere for her Battleships, and I will be in the ‘doghouse’!”
“I see your difficulty, my poor Guy!” the Dowager said. “You are in a very unfortunate position.”
“I am well aware of that!” the Marquis said unhappily.
He rose to his feet as if he could not sit still and walked to stand in front of the mantelpiece,
“It simply never occurred to me that Orestes wanted me for a son-in-law,” he said, “or that his daughter should marry outside her own country.”
He fell silent for a moment.
“Now when I look back, I should have realised that Amelia was always with us, even when Orestes and I should have been alone. She seldom spoke and we took no notice of her for most of the time.”
“Is she pretty?” the Dowager asked.
“Not particularly,” the Marquis said thoughtfully. “She is small, but rather heavily built with an olive skin, dark hair and is not, I think, very intelligent.”
The Dowager gave a horrified cry.
“In which case you cannot marry her, dear boy!”
“I know that,” the Marquis replied, “but how am I to get out of it without insulting Orestes?”
There was silence.
Then Ursa said in a small voice,
“When Mr. Orestes arrives – could you not convince him that you are already – engaged to be married?”
The Marquis turned to look at Ursa as if he had never seen her before.
For a moment he did not speak.
Then he said,
“But of course! Why did not I think of that? You are brilliant – quite brilliant!”
He was quiet for a moment, as if he was working it out.
Then he said,
“But to make him believe I am not free and realise that he cannot question it in any way, I should, of course, have my fiancée with me.”
“Yes, I can see that,” the Dowager agreed. “Otherwise he might believe that you were just making excuses not to propose to his daughter.”
The Marquis put his hand up to his forehead.
“Now, who can I produce like a rabbit out of a hat to play the part of my future wife?”
“There must be a number of young women who would be only too delighted to help you,” the Dowager said with a hint of laughter in her voice. “After all, dearest Guy, I have lost count of the beauties who have sighed over you and declared that their hearts were broken when you left them.”
“That is unkind, Grandmama!” the Marquis complained. “I have always believed that my affaires de coeur were very discreet.”
The Dowager laughed.
“Gossip is carried on the wind and I usually know about your latest affaire, as you call it, almost as soon as it has started.”
“All I can say is that I am not involved in one at the moment,” the Marquis confessed, “nor can I think of anyone who would be prepared to play the part whom I could trust not to talk about it afterwards.”
The Duke Is Deceived Page 4
