Only a Dream

by Barbara Cartland

  She had first said a long prayer of gratitude that she had been able to escape from Lord Polegate.

  Then she thanked God that the Marquis had appeared like a Knight in Shining Armour to save her just at the right moment.

  ‘Thank You, thank You, God,’ she finished, ‘and, please, Mama, tell me what I should do.’

  She tried not to remember that if her father was not earning, there would be a great many expenses and there was very little of the benefit money left.

  All that mattered at the moment, however, was that she had escaped from Lord Polegate.

  The room she was sleeping in was very quiet and nobody was likely to disturb her.

  “What – time is it?” she asked when Mrs. Lancaster brought in her breakfast.

  “It’s nearly ten o’clock, miss.”

  “How can I have slept so late?” Isla asked.

  “I expect you was tired, miss,” Mrs. Lancaster said sympathetically, “and it’s a good thing you were not in a hurry to get up. All your things have arrived from Polegate House and on his Lordship’s instructions I sent back the white gown you was wearin’.”

  “Thank – you.”

  She never wanted to see the gown again and she hoped that Mrs. Lancaster had also sent back the pink garters and the silk stockings.

  She did not want to think about them and, if they were still here, she knew that she would have them put straight in the dustbin.

  It was an hour later before, dressed in her own gown, Isla went downstairs.

  A footman informed her that the Marquis was in the library and she made her way there.

  She opened the door a little shyly to find the Marquis sitting at his desk in the sunshine.

  He rose to his feet as she entered and thought as he did so that Isla was even lovelier in the daylight than he remembered.

  He had, when he awoke, thought that the whole episode must have been a dream.

  Now Isla was very much alive and, he thought, quite different from anybody else he had ever seen.

  He found indeed everything about her incredible.

  How could she really be the daughter of a Music Hall artist, however talented, and yet not only look and behave like a lady but be so innocent of the world that he thought it must be an act? When Isla came into the room now, he thought that no actress could portray a girl who looked so shy and at the same time entranced by her surroundings.

  “I-I have been looking at your pictures as I came down the stairs,” Isla said, “and I know that Mama would have been thrilled to see them in their – right surroundings.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I have seen pictures like yours in galleries and museums,” Isla explained, “but in their right setting they are far more impressive and far more attractive.”

  “I am glad they please you!” the Marquis said. “Now, sit down, Isla. I have something to say to you.”

  She did as he told her and her eyes were apprehensive as she asked,

  “Have you – heard from – Lord Polegate?”

  “I thought you might guess that he has written to me a very rude letter suggesting that, as you prefer my company to his, you should remember that he is looking after your father and, if he is moved precipitately and without due care from his house in Park Lane, it might result in his death!”

  Isla gave a little cry.

  “How can he – say things – like that?”

  “I think he wrote to me in a temper,” the Marquis said, “and I am sure that he would not actually throw your father out without making proper provision for his welfare.”

  “I think I should – go back to Papa – at once!”

  “And suppose Lord Polegate is there?”

  He thought she went very pale as she replied vaguely,

  “He – he – could not – do anything to me in – London?”

  The expression in her eyes was very moving and the Marquis went a little nearer to her as he said,

  “I promised that he should not hurt you, and that promise remains. And now I have a suggestion to make.”

  “What is it?”

  “First sit down and then listen very attentively.”

  Isla obeyed him and her eyes were on his face as the Marquis said,

  “I am sure you have no wish, after what happened yesterday, for your father to accept Lord Polegate’s hospitality. I therefore suggest that we take him away from where he is at the moment.”

  “I want to – do that! But I am rather – afraid – ”

  Her voice faded away as if she could not put into words her fear that if she took her father home, Lord Polegate might come to their house.

  Then there would be nobody there to protect her from him.

  “What I am suggesting,” the Marquis went on, “is that we move your father to my house which, as it happens, is only a little farther up Park Lane. You can stay there with your father and I will arrange for somebody, perhaps one of my older relatives, to chaperone you.”

  Isla clasped her hands together.

  “Do you really – mean that? How can – you be so kind – so unbelievably kind?”

  There was a hint of tears in her voice and the Marquis remembered that she had not cried last night, but now his kindness had touched her heart.

  “What I have already done,” he said, “is to send my secretary early this morning to London to enquire how your father is and also to speak to Sir Martin Simpson about him.”

  He paused a moment and then continued,

  “He should return by luncheon time. Then we can decide how soon we can remove him and whether there would be any danger to your father in our doing so.”

  Isla looked at him and very slowly two large tears rolled down her cheeks as she said,

  “I did not know that – anyone could be so – wonderful to me – and to Papa.”

  “If you cry about it,” the Marquis replied, “I shall be afraid that I am making you unhappy!”

  “I am so happy that I want to go on saying ‘thank you, hank you, thank you!’”

  He smiled and, when she searched for a handkerchief and could not find one, he handed her one of thin lawn that bore his crest.

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks and said,

  “Perhaps Papa is better this morning and he could also thank you himself.”

  “I am sure that we shall soon hear him singing Champagne Charlie again with everybody singing along with him!” the Marquis said.

  Isla gave him a brave little smile and he went on,

  “What I suggest we do now is to ask Mrs. Lancaster to find you a riding skirt that will fit you and I will order the horses.”

  He saw Isla’s face light up.

  “Can we – really do that? Can I really – ride with you?”

  “As soon as you are ready,” the Marquis replied.

  She gave a little cry of excitement and, without saying anything more, she ran towards the door.

  As she opened it, she looked back and smiled at him.

  Then, although he could hardly believe it was true, he felt a very strange reaction in the part of his anatomy that he called his heart.

  *

  One-and-a-half hours later, riding back towards the house, Isla sighed,

  “I have never enjoyed anything as much as riding – one of your magnificent horses!”

  She knew that Silverstone was not only magnificent but also perfectly trained for a lady.

  She had been a little anxious that she would disgrace herself, as she had not ridden for some time and her mounts had not been as spirited or as well-bred as the Marquis’s.

  But Silverstone carried her so perfectly that she had not had a minute’s anxiety.

  The beauty of the Park, the magnificence of the house and the presence of the Marquis himself made her feel that it was all unreal.

  Yet it was the most thrilling thing she had ever done.

  ‘How could all this have happened to me just because Papa is ill?’ she asked he
rself.

  Then she felt a little pang of anxiety in case he was not better, as she hoped, and would not be able to go back to The Oxford for a very long time.

  ‘We will manage somehow,’ she reassured herself, but she knew that it was going to be very very difficult.

  The Marquis’s voice broke in on her thoughts.

  “You are not to worry!”

  “How do you know I am worrying?”

  “Your eyes are very expressive and I want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy, so very happy, and there are no words that I can use to tell you so.”

  “I too enjoyed our ride,” the Marquis said, “and, if we have to go to London this afternoon or tomorrow, I will drive you in my chaise with the finest team of horses I have ever possessed!”

  There was no reason for Isla to tell him how much she looked forward to the experience, he could read it all in her eyes.

  They rode back to the house and Isla changed from the habit she had borrowed back into her own gown for luncheon.

  She learned when she came downstairs that the Marquis’s grandmother was not well enough to join them, but she had sent a message to say that she would like to meet Isla at teatime after her rest.

  “I would not want to bother her,” Isla said.

  “She is longing to meet you,” the Marquis answered. “I think that she often finds life very dull living in the country.”

  “Does she stay with you all the time?”

  “No, she has a house about ten miles from here on the estate, but at the moment I am making improvements to it and I did not want her to be disturbed by the noise the workmen make.”

  “I can see that you are not only kind but very considerate,” Isla remarked. “Mama always said that kind men like Papa are very rare.”

  “Thank you for the compliment!” the Marquis replied.

  Isla felt that she had been rather forward and blushed.

  She had no idea how lovely she looked as she did so.

  And the Marquis thought for the hundredth time that she had a unique beauty that was very different from anything he had ever seen before.

  They finished luncheon, which was delicious, and went into the library because Isla wanted to see the books.

  “Sometimes,” she said, “when Mama and I wanted to look up the history of some particular picture, we used to go to the library of the British Museum and it was very intriguing browsing through the books there.”

  “You can browse here as much as you like.”

  She threw out her arms as she answered,

  “I would like to read every book in your library! I wonder how long it would take me?”

  “Perhaps two to three hundred years!” the Marquis teased.

  “Then I shall have to come here as a ghost!” Isla laughed.

  He realised as she did so that she had a dimple he had not noticed before and he thought that the sunlight must have been caught in her eyes.

  A footman came into the room.

  “Excuse me, my Lord, but Mr. Browning would like to speak to your Lordship.”

  The Marquis left without any explanation and Isla was suddenly sure that Mr. Browning was the name of the secretary who had gone to London to find out if there was any news of her father.

  She waited a little apprehensively, standing at the window, gazing out on the sunlit Park.

  There were deer lying in the shadows of the great oak trees and she thought how secure and happy they looked.

  She heard the Marquis come back into the room, but she did not turn her head.

  She was just tense, waiting to hear what he had to tell her.

  He came and stood beside her and then unexpectedly taking her hand, he held it very closely in both of his.

  “You have to be brave, Isla,” he said very quietly.

  She looked up at him and saw the answer on his face.

  She gave a little cry even before the Marquis could say very quietly,

  “Your father is dead!”

  Chapter Six

  Without thinking and without realising what she was doing, Isla moved towards the Marquis.

  He thought that she was about to faint and so he put his arms round her.

  Then, as she hid her face against his shoulder and he felt her body trembling and was aware that she was fighting her tears, he knew incredibly that he had fallen in love!

  He could hardly believe that what he was feeling was real.

  Yet he knew he wanted to look after Isla and protect her, not only against Lord Polegate but everything else in the world.

  He stood holding her against him and knew that never in his whole life had he felt for any woman what he was feeling now. It was not only that Isla was so unexpectedly lovely and that she was innocent and unspoiled.

  There was something deeper which made him recognise that she was unique.

  At the same time he could not help knowing that he could not marry her. Then he thrust the thought away and concentrated on her and what she was feeling.

  “Your father is dead,” he said very gently, “but he died as I would like to do when my time comes.”

  Isla did not answer, but he knew that she was listening to him.

  “My secretary, Mr. Browning, found out from somebody who was at the party exactly what happened.”

  He felt Isla draw a little closer to him, as if, like a child, she wanted his protection and the feeling of security he gave her.

  “It was a very amusing, very gay party that Lord Polegate gave at the Café Royale,” the Marquis went on. “The food was naturally delicious and, as you can imagine, there was a great deal to drink.”

  He felt Isla shiver, but she did not raise her head as he continued,

  “They started proposing toasts and several famous actors who were there made short speeches in reply.”

  He felt Isla must know what was coming when he said,

  “Then, when they toasted your father, everybody in the room shouted for him to sing Champagne Charlie.”

  As the Marquis spoke, Isla could hear her father singing the song as he had sung it when she was in the frame listening to him.

  She remembered the lilt in his voice, the manner in which he seemed to galvanise the huge audience with his vitality.

  “Your father sang the song they all loved,” the Marquis was saying, “and they, of course, joined in the chorus.”

  His arms tightened as he finished.

  “Your father drank down the glass of champagne he was holding and then he fell down onto the floor behind him.”

  “How – can it have – happened?”

  Isla’s voice was so low that the Marquis could hardly hear it, but he knew what she was asking.

  “I think,” he replied, “that it must have been the excitement of the whole evening, his and your success at the theatre and, of course, the way everybody complimented him at the party.”

  He prevented himself from adding that Keegan Kenway had also already drunk too much.

  Instead he said,

  “Because he was unconscious, he really died in his hour of triumph and no man could ask for more.”

  “I cannot – believe – it!” Isla whispered. “But now he will – be with – Mama.”

  “Of course he will,” the Marquis agreed, “and I am sure they both know that I will look after you.”

  “Why – should you do – that when I am – a stranger who has – thrust herself on you?”

  The words were almost incoherent and the Marquis did not answer.

  Instead, with his arms still round her, he drew her gently to the sofa.

  She sat down and he saw that she was very pale.

  Her eyes had a stricken look about them, which he knew was due to shock.

  It was not, however, the terror that he had seen when she had escaped from Lord Polegate, which he hoped he would never see again in any woman’s face.

  She looked at him for a moment and he thought that no one could look more in need of car
e and protection.

  “I must – go to – London,” Isla said, “and see about Papa’s – funeral.”

  “Let me do that for you,” the Marquis said. “I am sure that you don’t want to go to Lord Polegate’s house again.”

  He saw her shiver and he said firmly,

  “Leave everything to me. I know Sir Martin Simpson and I will make all the arrangements with him.”

  Isla’s eyes were on his face as he was speaking.

  Then she said,

  “I should not – impose upon you like this – but I don’t know – what to do.”

  “Just leave everything to me.”

  The Marquis took her cold hand in his and suggested,

  “I want you now to come and meet my grandmother, who I know will understand what you are going through. She lost her husband, whom she adored, and her favourite son was killed fighting in India.”

  There was silence and he wondered if Isla would prefer to be alone.

  Then with what he thought was a very commendable courage she replied,

  “I-I would like to – meet your grandmother – and thank you for saying – you will – see to Papa’s funeral.”

  She hesitated and then added,

  “It seems the – wrong thing to say at this moment – but it must not be very – expensive, as I have – so little money.”

  “I want you to leave that to me.”

  He felt her fingers tighten on his as she said,

  “There is – no one else and I am so – very glad I am – here.”

  He knew that she was thinking that she might have been with Lord Polegate when she learned of her father’s death.

  Then there would have been nobody for her to turn to and no escape from his attentions.

  He thought that no other woman, especially one so young, could have been as brave as Isla for the rest of the day.

  After she had sat with his grandmother and he had left them talking, he was surprised and relieved when Isla said that she would like to join him for dinner.

  He knew that most women in her place would be crying uncontrollably and wailing against Fate if they had been left alone in the world.

  Moreover, where he was concerned, they would be making every excuse to cling to him, to cry on his shoulder and expect him to comfort them in his arms.

  He was intelligent enough to realise that to Isla he was not a man, but just something solid that she could hold onto for protection.