Although she was worried for herself, Claudia could not help being amused.
She felt that, if any ordinary person had taken that attitude, there would have been an argument.
The proprietor would undoubtedly have protested that the wine was the best that he could provide.
Without there appearing to be any difficulty about it, however, another bottle was brought in by the wine waiter.
It was shown to the gentleman and uncorked.
A little was poured into a wine glass, which he tasted.
There was an almost audible sigh of relief as he nodded his head.
The glass was filled and the bottle put into the ice cooler.
While all this was happening, Claudia was aware that the waiter who had been attending to her was nowhere to be seen.
She knew she would have a long wait for the next course.
All she could do was to worry until she could talk to the proprietor, as she sat waiting patiently.
However she found it impossible not to watch the English gentleman.
He was now being tempted with delicious dishes that had not been offered to any of the other guests.
He was certainly very particular and there was also a distinctly disdainful look about him.
Claudia thought it impressed the waiters who were used to their aristocrats being haughty.
Then, as if the way she was looking at the gentleman somehow attracted his attention, he gazed across at her.
Their eyes met.
They were directly facing each other, as it happened, with no one in between.
Claudia had the feeling that he was surprised by her appearance.
She had no idea that among the dark and somewhat swarthy Spaniards she looked like someone from another planet.
The blue of the gown that Lady Bressley had bought for her from Bond Street accentuated the gold of her hair and the translucence of her skin.
Her large eyes seemed to fill her small, pointed face.
It was from her mother that Claudia had inherited her long dark eyelashes. They curled back like a child’s and the tips of them were touched with gold.
Because she was suddenly aware that she was staring at the Englishman, as he was staring at her, Claudia dropped her eyes.
She was looking down, yet was perceptively aware that the Englishman was still gazing at her.
‘He must think it strange that I am alone,’ she told herself.
It was something that had not struck her before.
Now she was aware that it was very reprehensible for a young girl of her age to be staying in a hotel unchaperoned.
‘The sooner I go back to England, the better,’ she thought as she finished her dinner and left the dining room.
As she did so, she was careful to avoid looking towards the Englishman again.
Back in her bedroom, once again she was faced with the problem of how she was to travel with no ticket and no money to pay for it.
‘I shall have to sell Mama’s jewellery,’ she thought despairingly.
There was nothing else, unless she offered her services and worked in the hotel.
The thought flashed through her mind, but she knew at once how impractical it was.
‘I just have to think this out sensibly,’ she told herself, ‘just as Papa – I mean Walter Wilton – would have told me to do.’
She felt as if he was beside her saying,
‘Use your brain – think only of the important things in life. Think! Don’t do anything on an impulse, but weigh up every possibility before you act.’
He would often talk to her like that.
She wondered now if he had been preparing her for the day when she would learn that she was not his child and would have to decide her own future.
But even Walter Wilton, clever as he was, could not have anticipated the terrible situation she would now find herself in.
First, when he and her mother were killed.
And now, when she was alone in Spain with no one to help her and no money.
CHAPTER THREE
Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
“Entrar,” Claudia called out.
The chambermaid who had looked after her before appeared.
“El Señor wish speak with Señorita,” she said.
She opened the door wider as if to indicate that Claudia should go with her.
She thought that it must be the proprietor who wished to speak to her about her plans and to learn how long she would be staying.
She knew that it was going to be an awkward interview when she informed him that she had no money.
She would have to explain that Emily and Hopkins had taken everything with them.
At least it would give her an opportunity to ask the proprietor if anything could be done about catching them.
But she had the uncomfortable feeling that he would not be interested.
All he would want was to be paid for what she owed and that meant sacrificing her mother’s jewellery.
She walked across the room to where the maid was waiting.
“Take me to the Señor,” she said in Spanish.
The chambermaid hurried along the passage and still on the first floor stopped at a door.
Claudia had expected that she would be taken down to the proprietor’s office and she had assumed that it was on the ground floor near the main entrance hall.
However the maid was knocking on a door and someone called out,
“Come in!”
She opened the door and Claudia walked ahead.
She found herself in a small sitting room, which was somewhat over-furnished.
To her astonishment she saw standing in front of the fireplace the Englishman whom she had noticed in the drawing room.
“Good evening, Miss Coventry,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Marquis of Datchford and, as you also are English, I wanted to talk to you.”
“I noticed – you in the – dining room,” Claudia replied rather nervously.
The Englishman looked so handsome and so overpowering that he made her feel shy.
“And I saw you,” he said. “Will you sit down?”
It flashed through Claudia’s mind that perhaps he had been told of her predicament and would help her to return to England.
If that was indeed true, she would be very very grateful. She sat down on the end of the sofa and put her hands in her lap.
Her face as she looked up at him was like a child’s in the presence of a schoolmaster.
“First,” the Marquis said, “let me commiserate with you on the terrible accident you were involved in. I have been told that the lady you were travelling with was killed.”
“It was – very frightening,” Claudia said in a low voice, “and I suppose I am – lucky to be alive.”
“Very lucky,” the Marquis agreed. “I have also been told that the servants who were accompanying you have absconded with the lady’s jewels and her money.”
“That is – true,” Claudia said. “Unfortunately I was struck on – the head when the accident – happened and I hardly realised what had occurred. Otherwise I suppose I would have – asked for Lady Bressley’s jewels to be – put in the safe.”
“You can hardly blame yourself,” the Marquis remarked, “and the servants have certainly behaved in a most disgraceful manner!”
He paused for a moment before he added,
“In England we would have sent for the Police, but I am sure that things are very different here in Spain.”
“That is what – I thought,” Claudia agreed, “or I would have – asked the proprietor to – notify the Police.”
“I don’t think he would be very keen to do so,” the Marquis said. “It would cast aspersions on the hotel and People would not wish to stay here if they might be robbed.”
“I-I did not – think of that,” Claudia answered, “but, of course, you are right.”
There was a short silence before the Marquis said,
“I should imagine, in the circumstances, that you are in an uncomfortable position.”
He spoke as if he were choosing his words and Claudia said frankly,
“To be honest, my Lord, I am wondering how I can pay the bill and, as I have no money of my own, I shall have to sell the little jewellery I have with me.”
The Marquis sat down on a chair.
“I rather fancied that might be the situation that you have found yourself in. Now I have a proposition to put to you which I think you might find helpful.”
“A-a proposition?” Claudia replied questioningly.
“I understand,” the Marquis said, “that you are the daughter of Walter Wilton.”
Claudia’s eyes opened wide.
“H-how – could you – know that?” she stammered.
The Marquis smiled.
“My coachman was told it by the coachman who drove you here and has now so disgracefully run away. My valet informed me when I was dressing for dinner that Walter Wilton’s daughter was staying in the hotel. He was, I may say, considerably impressed.”
Claudia was thinking of how Lady Bressley had said that no one must know who she was.
She had obviously not taken into account the servants being aware of the truth.
Of course, they would be eager to talk about it!
She was wondering what she should now say to the Marquis.
Then she remembered that it would not matter who knew who she was, as she would not now be meeting the Spanish Nobility.
“I was a great admirer of your father,” the Marquis continued. “I recently watched him play Macbeth and thought that no one could have portrayed the character more brilliantly.”
Claudia smiled.
“He was wonderful! And I can understand why the audience cheered and cheered him.”
“Of course you can,” the Marquis said, “and I am quite certain that, as his daughter, you have inherited some of his talent. In that case you can help me in the predicament that I find myself at the moment.”
Claudia parted her lips to tell him the truth and say that she was not Walter Wilton’s daughter.
Then she thought that it was far too complicated a story to explain to a stranger and anyway it would involve her mother.
If the Marquis learnt that her mother was in fact the daughter of an Earl, he would be shocked.
She could understand how her mother had loved Walter Wilton so overwhelmingly that it had been impossible for her to live without him.
But she knew that the Social world that the Marquis moved in would be horrified.
To them that was no excuse for a woman to leave her husband and live with a man to whom she was not married.
‘If he thinks I am the daughter of Walter Wilton,’ Claudia told herself, ‘what does it matter?’
Aloud she said,
“You spoke of a – proposition, my Lord. Will you tell me – what it is?”
“That is just what I am about to do and, as it is a somewhat complicated story, I wish you to listen very attentively.”
Claudia then nodded her head and the Marquis continued,
“I am twenty-nine years of age and I don’t suppose you realise that I am a well-known racehorse owner. I also hold a position at Court, which is traditional in my family, as my father held it before me and my grandfather before him.”
Claudia was wondering what all this had to do with her.
However, she kept her eyes on the Marquis and tried to follow every word he was saying.
“I am not married,” he went on, “although I have been pressed to marry by all my relations. Several distinguished Noblemen have in fact made it clear that they would welcome me as their son-in-law.”
Claudia thought, considering how handsome he was and obviously very rich, this was not surprising.
The girls at school had told her about their sisters being married as soon as they were debutantes.
She had been aware that every girl’s ambition was to make a brilliant social marriage in her first London Season.
It had sometimes occurred to her that it was something she would never be able to do. She would never meet eligible bachelors if she was not allowed to accept the invitations of her friends.
There was certainly no chance of her mother giving a ball for her.
It did not exactly worry her, but she had thought about it.
Looking at the Marquis, she was sure that he was typical of the type of Englishman they all hoped to capture.
Nothing could be more satisfying for a girl than to find herself the Marchioness of Datchford!
She could then wear a magnificent tiara among the Peeresses at the State Opening of Parliament.
“I have come to Spain at the invitation of Prince Carlos de Alcalá, who is a member of the Spanish Royal Family,” the Marquis went on. “His racehorses, so he claims, are the equal of my own, and I was looking forward to the visit. I travelled as far as Cadiz in my yacht, as I dislike train journeys.”
He spoke the last words in a slightly mocking way and Claudia found herself smiling too.
“I spent last night with another Spanish friend and continued my journey today.”
Claudia was listening to him intently.
At the same time she still could not see how this could possibly concern her.
“I shall arrive tomorrow at the Prince’s Palace in Seville at about six o’clock in the evening,” the Marquis was saying, “and I must admit that up until now I had enjoyed the journey.”
Claudia looked at him enquiringly.
She wondered again why he was telling her all this.
She was hoping that somehow it was a preliminary to telling her how he could help her return to England.
As if he read her thoughts, the Marquis said,
“I am sure that you are asking yourself how all this concerns you. Well, when I was staying with my Spanish friend last night, he told me he had it on good authority that Prince Carlos has invited me as his guest not only so that we can discuss and compare our racehorses.”
“Then – why?” Claudia asked.
She spoke because once again the Marquis had paused in his narrative.
She was also anxious for him to come to the point.
“My friend told me that Prince Carlos has a marriageable daughter for whom he is seeking a husband.”
Claudia gave a little gasp.
She could understand all too well that the Marquis did not want an arranged marriage.
It was what had happened to her mother and was the reason why she had run away.
She also remembered that her mother had thought that arranged marriages were unnatural and horrible.
She had said that she thought a man and a woman needed to be in love before they were joined together in holy wedlock.
Her mother had said to her,
“I pray, my dearest, that you will fall in love with a man who will also love you.”
“That is what I want, Mama,” Claudia replied, “and to be as happy as you are with Papa.”
She had not understood at the time why her mother had turned away and started to talk of something else.
And now she could understand very well why the Marquis did not want an arranged marriage.
“But, of course,” she said aloud, “you must not marry anyone you do not love. It is very wrong and can make people most unhappy.”
She was thinking as she spoke not only of her mother but also of the Kings and Queens of England about whom she had read in her history books.
They had married for political or dynastic reasons and the Kings had been openly unfaithful to their wives, like Charles II.
The unwanted wives had either died mysteriously or been beheaded as in the reign of Henry VIII.
“I thought you would understand,” the Marquis now said, “and that is why, Miss Coventry, I am asking you to help me.”
“To – help you?” Claudia exclaimed. “But – how can I possibly do that? I understand what
you are feeling – of course I do – but I should have thought that the best thing for you to do would be to return to England immediately!”
She thought as she spoke that, if he did that, perhaps he would allow her to travel back with him.
That would solve her problem as well as his.
“It is something I have thought of,” the Marquis admitted. “However, it would be an insult to the Prince if, having reached Spain, I turned round and left without seeing him.”
“I suppose you could say that you have received bad news or that somebody in your family has been taken seriously ill?” Claudia suggested.
The Marquis smiled.
“I see you have a very inventive brain and the imagination that made your father such a brilliant actor.”
“Thank you for saying – that,” Claudia replied softly.
“I mean every word of it,” the Marquis said, “and because we have met and you are his daughter, I have thought of a better plan where Prince Carlos is concerned.”
“And – what is that?” Claudia asked in a small voice.
She was suddenly afraid of what she was going to hear.
“I thought,” the Marquis said, “I will arrive at the Palace with my wife. It will be a surprise, but I will explain that our marriage took place very suddenly because there was a likelihood of an immediate death in her family, which would have plunged her into mourning and so it has not yet been announced publicly.”
Claudia stared at him and her eyes seemed to fill her whole face.
She wanted to ask a question, but the words would not come.
The Marquis then said,
“I feel sure that you could play the part very convincingly.”
There was a long silence before Claudia said in a voice that seemed to come from a long way away,
“Are you – are you – seriously suggesting – my Lord – that I should – play the part of your wife?”
“That is exactly what I am asking you to do,” the Marquis replied. “It should not be difficult for you, looking as you do, and being Walter Wilton’s daughter, to act the part without making a single mistake.”
“I-I could not be – sure of – that,” Claudia said. “I have – never acted – on the stage, my f-father would not have allowed it.”
“But you watched him. You have been with him. You have listened to him and you have seen him!” the Marquis insisted. “Who could have taught you better to play a part? And I tell you frankly, I would find it hard to find a more beautiful ‘wife’, however hard I tried!”
The Wonderful Dream Page 4
