Dancing on a Rainbow

by Barbara Cartland

  ‘It is so like Papa,’ Loretta thought, ‘to make up his mind in a hurry and insist that I should be married to a Frenchman I have never even seen, just because he likes his father and they have an interest in the same sport.’

  But she knew that her father was speaking in truth when he said that French marriages were always arranged and that, in the case of aristocratic families, the same more or less applied in England.

  ‘Whatever anybody else may think, I will be the exception!’ Loretta told herself defiantly.

  But she recognised as she spoke that it was going to be very very difficult and she would have to be extremely clever about it.

  Just as her father was always obstinate when it came to getting his own way, she could be the same.

  Having changed, she went down to luncheon looking pale and subdued and hoped that her father would feel somewhat guilty when he realised from her silence and downcast eyes that she was distressed.

  He was, however, in such a good humour at the idea of her marriage that she thought he hardly noticed her reaction, assuming that, because he had raged at her, she would no longer oppose him.

  Today they dined alone because the cousin who had been staying in the house for some months as a companion for Loretta, especially while her father was away at the races, had retired to bed with a cold.

  The Duke spent the first course talking about the races he had attended the day before, describing in detail how he had defeated several outstanding horses as well as that of the Duc de Sauerdun .

  “The day after tomorrow,” he said, “I am going to Newmarket, and I am hoping I shall be as successful there as I was yesterday.”

  Loretta did not answer and the Duke said testily,

  “Oh, for God’s sake, child, stop looking as if you had lost a half-crown and found a three-penny bit! Most girls would be jumping over the moon with joy at the idea of making such a magnificent marriage their first Season.”

  “But I have not had a Season, Papa!” Loretta said plaintively.

  The Duke considered this for a moment.

  Then he said,

  “Well, if that is what is troubling you, I will see what we can do. There is no point in opening the house in London and giving a ball as we had planned. We will have one here when the Duc and his son are staying with us and you had better talk to your cousin Emily and plan an outstanding occasion, which is more magnificent than any ball we have ever given in the past.”

  Loretta knew without his saying so that he intended at the ball to announce publicly her engagement to the Marquis .

  She however did not say anything except,

  “That sounds a very – nice idea, Papa.”

  “It pleases you?” the Duke exclaimed in delight. “Well, that’s a good girl! In that case I will take you to London when you are presented at the ‘Drawing Room’. I think that is in the middle of May, is it not?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “Right! Then we will attend a ball or two and watch the polo at Raneleigh, but there will be little point in opening the house completely as we had intended. We can keep everything until after Ascot.”

  “Yes, Papa,” Loretta agreed.

  Only when luncheon was over and the Duke had hurried off to a meeting at County Hall did she change once again into her riding habit.

  Disobeying the Duke’s strict instructions that she should always take a groom with her, she rode off alone to where on the edge of the woods about three miles from the house she knew that Christopher Willoughby would be waiting for her.

  He was a young man she had known ever since she was a child, whose estate bordered the Duke’s, though it was very much smaller and, in her father’s eyes, unimportant.

  In fact, he treated it with the same lofty condescension with which he treated Christopher’s father, who might be the fifth Baronet, but was not well off and therefore unable to contribute much to the charitable organisations of which the Duke was a patron.

  If the Duke had been aware of how often Christopher and his daughter met each other out riding, he would have been furious, but Christopher was the only young man Loretta knew well.

  Although Christopher had been in love with her for the last three years, she herself thought of him only as the brother she had never had.

  He was, however, her greatest friend and, because it was much more fun riding with him than with a groom, she invariably told him where they could meet.

  Then they would race each other across the fields or walk their horses in the woods and talk of all the subjects that interested Loretta and which Christopher, because he loved her, attempted to understand.

  When she rode up to him now, he knew immediately that something was wrong.

  “What has happened?” he asked.

  She did not question that he knew instinctively that she was upset, but merely replied,

  “I can hardly bear to tell you, Christopher, what Papa has arranged.”

  “What is it?”

  “My – marriage!”

  Loretta said it dramatically and there was silence.

  Then Christopher said in a strangled voice,

  “Oh, my God! I knew this would happen sooner or later.”

  He was a good looking young man of twenty five years of age with broad shoulders and he rode a rather indifferent horse, which was all his father could afford, extremely well.

  He had been in a good Regiment, but he had found it too expensive and had come home to try to manage the estate and if possible make it pay.

  Because he loved Loretta overwhelmingly he had recently been neglecting his duties quite considerably so that he could spend all his available time possible with her.

  He knew his love was hopeless, he knew he had nothing to offer and yet she filled his life completely.

  He thought now that, even though her eyes were worried and her face was unmistakably pale, she looked very beautiful, in fact more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen in his whole life.

  As Loretta told him what her father had said and planned, Christopher Willoughby began to feel as if the whole world had gone dark and everything that mattered to him was lying shattered at his feet.

  “You cannot become engaged to a man you have never even seen,” he said, as Loretta paused for breath.

  “That is what I told Papa, but he would not listen,” she answered. “Christopher, what am I to do? I cannot marry a Frenchman I have nothing in common with and live in France far away from everything I have known and loved since I was a child!”

  She was thinking as she spoke of the woods, the garden and the countryside around her that had constituted her whole world until now.

  “It’s inhuman and it’s wrong, absolutely wrong for you,” Christopher said firmly.

  “I knew you would understand, but how can I make Papa see how cruelly he is treating me?”

  There was no answer to this and Christopher knew, as did everybody else in the neighbourhood, that once the Duke had made up his mind about something, there was nothing anybody could do to change it.

  “If Mama was alive,” Loretta was saying, “I am sure she could have talked Papa into being more reasonable. After all, there is no reason why the Marquis should not come to England and we could meet casually at a party or a ball in London before there was any talk of our becoming engaged.”

  “And supposing you hated him?” Christopher suggested.

  “Then I would have a chance to say ‘no’ when he asked me to marry him,” Loretta replied. “As it is, his father has already suggested that we should be married and Papa has accepted on my behalf. All that is required now is for the Marquis to put the ring on my finger and I am his wife!”

  “You cannot do it!” Christopher exclaimed.

  “But that is what will happen, unless I can somehow prevent it,” Loretta said. “You know what Papa is like when he is in one of his obstinate moods and he has always been impressed by the Duc de Sauerdun. I have heard so much about him and his horses over the
years that I might almost own them.”

  “That is what you will do in time,” Christopher remarked bitterly.

  “I don’t want them!” Loretta cried. “And I don’t want his son either!”

  Christopher drew in his breath.

  “Will you run away with me, Loretta?”

  Because she had been thinking only of herself, Loretta looked at him and for the first time her eyes were no longer angry but soft and gentle.

  “Dear Christopher!” she sighed. “That is just the sort of idea you would suggest and, if I was in love with you, I would not hesitate.”

  “Then let me take you away,” Christopher begged.

  Loretta shook her head.

  “Because I am so fond of you, I could not do anything that would spoil your life and eventually mine.”

  “Why, why?” Christopher asked. “I love you, Loretta, and I swear that I would make you love me if you were my wife.”

  It was difficult for Loretta to tell him that he was not in the least like her dream man, but he was kind, understanding, sympathetic and she was genuinely very fond of him.

  But his offer was not what she wanted from life, not the love she had always envisaged and knew that when it came to her, she would recognise it instantly.

  She held out her hand and he took it as she said,

  “Thank you, Christopher, for being so understanding, but the answer to my problem is not to run away with you, but to save myself in some other way from being married to a man I have never seen and who for all I know may be abominable in every way, whatever Papa may say.”

  “It’s not right that your father should make such a vital decision for you,” Christopher said rather weakly.

  He knew as he was speaking that it was, in fact, quite usual for somebody in the Duke’s position to choose his daughter’s future husband without listening to anything she might say on the matter.

  Although his father was relatively poor, he had been brought up in a society that believed that ‘blue blood’ should go to ‘blue blood’.

  Also where possible a man with a title should ensure that his marriage would bring either money or land into the family.

  His father had never thought for one instant that there was any chance of his marrying Loretta and he had therefore continually drummed into his son’s head that, if and when he married, he must choose a girl who had a large dowry.

  “Then when you become the sixth Baronet, my boy,” he would say, “you and your son will not be in the plight we are now.”

  Christopher made one more desperate attempt on his own behalf to Loretta.

  “Will you promise me,” he said, “that if you really feel, when you meet him, that it’s impossible for you to marry this man – and, God knows, I hate the thought of him – that you will tell me so and let me take you away?”

  “You mean elope?”

  “We could be married by Special Licence,” Christopher said. “Then at least even if you don’t love me, it will not be so frightening or unpleasant for you as being married to a stranger.”

  “That is true,” Loretta said slowly. “At the same time, Christopher, I intend to fight Papa and find some way of circumventing him from announcing my engagement at the ball he intends to give in Ascot week, when the Duke and his son are coming to stay with us.”

  “Why can he not come over before?” Christopher enquired. “It seems to me that he is behaving in an extraordinary manner. If you want to know at least what he looks like, one would expect him to feel the same.”

  “That is what I think,” Loretta agreed, “but I suppose he is under his father’s thumb and just has to do as he is told.”

  “Then he cannot be much of a man!” Christopher declared firmly. “It seems to me a ridiculous situation that you are each sitting in your own country with the Channel between you and neither of you having the guts to meet each other.”

  He spoke violently, using a word that he would not ordinarily have used to Loretta, but she did not seem perturbed and she only said,

  “That has given me an idea, Christopher!”

  “What has?”

  “What you have just said. If the Marquis will not come to me, why should I not go to him?”

  “How can you?” Christopher not unreasonably enquired. “The Duc has not invited you to stay and, as your father said, perhaps he has very good reasons for not doing so.”

  He realised as he spoke that he was being rather spiteful, but he was thinking that all was fair in love and war.

  Loretta’s huge eyes were fixed on his face as she said,

  “You have been very clever! Far cleverer than I expected, Christopher!”

  “I don’t understand what you are saying.”

  “It’s something I have to think out,” Loretta said in a quiet voice.

  Christopher was now rather alarmed.

  “Now, listen, Loretta, you are not to do anything outrageous! Whatever I said, the one thing you cannot do is to go to France. It would cause a frightful scandal if you did so without the Duc de Sauerdun giving you an invitation. What is more, you would then be committed into marrying his beastly son!”

  “I am not so foolish as to do anything like that,” Loretta replied slowly.

  “Then what are you thinking about? Tell me!” Christopher begged anxiously.

  She laughed, then said,

  “It’s only an idea you have put into my head and thank you, Christopher. I feel better now that I have told you all about it, but I think I should now go home.”

  “No!” Christopher protested. “Let’s ride together under the trees. You owe me that, Loretta, having given me news that will mean sleepless nights with the knowledge that sooner rather than later I will lose you.”

  Impulsively Loretta put out her hand again.

  “You will never lose me completely, Christopher. Whatever I do or do not have to do, there will always be a place in my heart for you.”

  Her words brought a look of yearning to Christopher’s eyes.

  Then, as Loretta took her hand away and rode her horse forward, he followed her into the wood.

  There were paths where there was just room for two horses to move together towards a clearing in the centre, where the woodcutters had been taking down a number of trees.

  It was a place where they had often dismounted to sit and talk, but because Loretta knew that Christopher was upset and in consequence might try to kiss her, she passed on through the clearing and deliberately rode to the other side of the wood.

  They spoke very little.

  Christopher was content just to be beside her, even though he was suffering.

  She knew that she had dealt him a body blow when she told him that she was to be married.

  It had, of course, always been inevitable, although she had not expected it to be so soon.

  Christopher was very important in her life because he was her one confidant, the one companion whom she could trust and to whom she could say anything that came into her head.

  But she was not in love with him and she knew that what she felt for him would never develop into love.

  When finally at the end of the wood, she said goodbye and knew how unhappy he was, she felt that she had been cruel in telling him of her troubles.

  But there was no one else to whom she could turn and no one else she could trust.

  “I will be waiting for you tomorrow afternoon, Loretta,” Christopher said, “but, if by any chance you want to see me before that, send Ben over with a note. You can trust him not to talk.”

  “I expect Ben and everybody else knows that we see each other,” Loretta said, “with the exception of course of Papa and no one would dare tell him!”

  “I hope not!”

  Christopher had suggested meeting in the afternoon because he had so much work to do in the morning on the estate and now he said again,

  “Send Ben and I will come to you if you want me, as quickly as I can.”

  “Thank you, Christophe
r, and thank you for helping me. I don’t feel as desperate as I did.”

  “Take care of yourself, Loretta.”

  She knew as he looked at her that the love in his eyes was very touching, but she told herself that however desperate she might feel, she could not imagine herself as Christopher’s wife.

  As she rode home alone, she was pondering over what he had said and the thought in her mind was,

  ‘If the Marquis will not come to see me, then I must go to see him.’

  But not as herself.

  That would surely be a mistake.

  If she could only see him, find out what he was like as a man, how he behaved, then if, as she suspected, he was everything that was hateful, she would threaten her father that if he forced her to marry him, she would run away.

  She had no idea where she would go, but at least she could make things very difficult if she just disappeared and they could not find her.

  She was sure that if she did that and stayed away for some weeks or even months, her father would capitulate.

  Although he was difficult and shouted at her when he did not get things his own way, she knew now that her mother was dead that she was the most important person in his life and he really loved her.

  *

  ‘I have to see the Marquis ,’ she thought, ‘but how can I do it?’

  Suddenly, almost like the answer to a prayer, she remembered her Cousin Ingrid.

  Loretta had always loved Ingrid, who was six years older and who had been married when she was seventeen, making what the Court families always said was a ‘brilliant marriage’.

  Her husband was a man thirty years older than she was, but the Earl of Wick was of great consequence socially and a very rich man.

  Looking back, Loretta was certain that Ingrid had been given no choice in the matter of her marriage to the Earl.

  She had been swept up the aisle by her ambitious parents, who were only too delighted that their daughter had, almost before leaving the schoolroom, reached such high social stature.

  Knowing nothing about men or love, Ingrid had found her husband dull and set in his ways, eager only that she should produce an heir to his title and be a competent hostess to his friends, who naturally were all, as he was, very much older than herself.