A Battle for Love

by Barbara Cartland

  He lifted her up and the Marquis put his arm round Serla and seated her on the saddle in front of him.

  Then, as he tightened his arm round her, she clung to him, hiding her face against his shoulder.

  The Marquis turned to the Gypsy Chief and said,

  “Another time be more careful and don’t try again to abduct a lady. If you do, you might then find yourself fighting the men I have here and it is doubtful if any of you would survive.”

  The Gypsy Chief did not answer.

  The Marquis hoped that he had frightened him.

  Then he turned his horse round and moved away from the camp and back onto the road.

  Now, as the grooms joined him, the Marquis said,

  “You have done well and exactly what I told you. Now you can ride home and try to find Ben on the way. Call him with the owl-hoot as perhaps he did not hear it.”

  “Very good, my Lord,” they chorused.

  Then they all rode off ahead, excited and delighted by their success in rescuing the lost lady.

  The Marquis rode on for a little while and then he realised that Serla was in tears.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s all over, but it must have been very frightening.”

  “I thought you would never hear me,” Serla sobbed, “but I was calling for you – calling for you silently – in my heart.”

  He could hardly hear the last words, but he held her a little closer as he said,

  “It is something you will have to forget. It was, of course, all Charlotte’s doing and I guessed it as soon as I heard that you had been asked for by a gypsy woman.”

  “That was so – clever of you,” she managed to say.

  “I could only guess what had happened and I admit to being very anxious in case I was wrong and should have taken different steps to find you.”

  “But you found me,” Serla sighed, “and I thought I might – never see you again.”

  He did not answer as he was wishing that he could punish Charlotte for her wicked plot to dispose of Serla.

  He knew only too well, but he had no intention of telling Serla, what might have happened to her.

  If they were the mercenary sort of gypsies who he suspected they were, they would have sold her to a bawdy house for a few pounds.

  That would add to the money Charlotte had already given them.

  Serla would have been doped and held captive until she could no longer understand what was happening to her.

  Alternatively she might, as he had thought initially, have been dropped into a river or thrown into a ravine and she would never have been found.

  It was attempted murder, but it was something that he could not prove. Nor had he any wish to do so, because if he did, it would involve Serla and himself.

  He only thanked God more fervently than he had already that he could ever have been deceived by her.

  Aloud he asked Serla,

  “Are you quite comfortable? I am not going too fast for you?

  “Nothing matters except that you are here and I am not lying tied up in that caravan – and terrified.”

  “You must take care of yourself,” the Marquis said. “I shall, of course, protect you, but never again, never – ”

  He paused as if to make his words more impressive as he finished.

  “ – must you follow a woman, who comes to the door to ask for your help.”

  “It is what very often – happened at home,” Serla explained. “People would come to ask for Mama if they had cut their hand – or their children had taken a tumble or they were just feeling ill. It never entered my head – that the gypsy woman was dangerous.”

  “Well, in the future you must be more careful,” the Marquis replied.

  “I will do exactly – what you tell me,” Serla said in a low voice.

  She was resting her cheek against his coat.

  She felt being so close to him with his arm around her was like being in Paradise.

  ‘I love him, I love him,’ she said to herself, ‘but he must never know. His grandmother had warned me against falling in love with him, but how can I help it?’

  The Marquis rode directly back over the fields to Darincourt Hall. It did not take as long as when he was going slowly and listening for the call of the owl.

  When he and Serla saw the house in front of them, its lit windows beaming a welcome, the Marquis said,

  “I think it would be a mistake to tell Grandmama what has happened.”

  “Of course,” she replied. “It would only upset her.”

  “Then do slip upstairs and go to bed,” he suggested. “If she is awake, I will tell her that I have just arrived back from London, but I expect she is asleep. I will tell Desbury that no one is to be aware of what has happened tonight.”

  “All that I can remember,” Serla said very softly, “is that you came – when I called you.”

  The Marquis smiled.

  As they reached the front door, in the light from the windows, he could see Serla very clearly.

  She was looking, he thought, very lovely with her golden hair against his shoulder.

  He was suddenly aware, and he had never thought of it before, that she had never been kissed.

  He could not believe that she would have allowed Lord Charlton to kiss her on such a short acquaintance and she had said so often that she had met very few men.

  He tried hard to remember when he had last kissed anyone who was young, so innocent and untouched, but he could not recall anyone but the sophisticated and flirtatious beauties he had been involved with.

  Then he told himself that to kiss Serla, however, pleasant it might be, would be a mistake.

  She had saved him from being married to Charlotte and that would have been a complete and utter disaster!

  In return he now had to find a suitable husband for Serla, sometime in the future.

  If she fell in love with him, it could present many difficulties.

  So he must not kiss her even though he knew that it was something he wanted to do.

  He drew in his horse by the front door and Serla lifted her head from his shoulder.

  “You have brought me – home,” she murmured.

  “Safely,” the Marquis said. “Now go upstairs, go to sleep and forget it ever happened.”

  For a moment she did not move from his arms.

  “I just want to say thank you, but there are – no words.”

  She looked up at him.

  He had a strange feeling that she wanted him to kiss her.

  Then, as he told himself it was just his imagination, she slipped down from the saddle onto the ground.

  Desbury was standing at the front door and as Serla ran up the steps he said,

  “Are you all right, miss? It were a real shock when we found you’d disappeared.”

  “His Lordship found me,” she answered, “and now I am going to bed.”

  She ran up the stairs without waiting for Desbury to say anything more.

  She climbed into bed and cuddled down against the pillows.

  She pretended to herself that she was still riding on the Marquis’s saddle and his arm was round her.

  ‘He saved me,’ she told herself, ‘and how could I ask for more than that?’

  She knew, because she had been so close to him and so very near to his lips, that she did want more.

  She had wanted, as she had never wanted anything in her whole life, that he should kiss her goodnight.

  ‘I love him, I love him,’ she was still whispering as she fell asleep.

  *

  The next morning Serla felt the reaction to all that she had been through.

  She had hoped, before she finally fell asleep, that she might be able to ride early with the Marquis.

  However it was almost ten o’clock before she woke up and then she still felt tired.

  It was too much of an effort even to ring the bell to let her maid know that she was awake.

  Instead she lay quietly in be
d, thinking over what had happened and how lucky it was that the Marquis had been able to save her.

  ‘He is so wonderful,’ she told herself. ‘What other man would have been clever enough to find me?’

  Then, because she wanted to see him, she could not bear to waste time and forced herself to get up.

  When she finally walked downstairs, it was to find that the Marquis had gone out and Desbury thought that he was riding over the estate.

  Serla gave a deep sigh.

  How could she have been so silly as to sleep and feel tired when she might be riding with the Marquis?

  The Dowager came down for luncheon and was so delighted to find that the Marquis had returned.

  Both he and Serla knew, as soon as they saw her that she had not been told about what had happened the night before.

  The Marquis gave her a message from the Prince Regent and they talked about London during luncheon.

  The Dowager had received a good number of letters thanking her for the ball and they had all said that it was the best one they had been to in years.

  “You will have to think of something fantastic for your next effort, Grandmama,” the Marquis pointed out.

  “And you will both have to help me,” she replied.

  After luncheon, although she still felt rather tired, Serla did ride with the Marquis.

  When they were away from the house, he asked,

  “Are you all right? I thought that you might make some excuse to stay in bed today.”

  “I am all right. After all, when you were at war you could hardly take the day off after a battle and I am rather ashamed of not being up early to ride before breakfast.”

  “I missed you, but it was very sensible of you to stay where you were.”

  They rode on for a little while and then Serla said,

  “You do not think that Charlotte – will try again?”

  The Marquis shrugged his shoulders.

  “I think it will be quite some time before she learns that her first effort has failed and anyway she will know that we are now on our guard and prepared for her.”

  “It frightens me,” Serla shivered.

  As she spoke, she felt that she wanted to put out her hand and hold onto the Marquis.

  He turned his head to smile at her.

  “You have been so brave. I cannot believe that you and I with our exceptional brains cannot defeat Charlotte, whatever horror she tries to torment us with.”

  “We ought – to be able to,” Serla agreed.

  At the same time she was frightened.

  When they went back to the house there was a large pile of letters for the Marquis, which had been delivered by the postman and there was one letter for Serla.

  When she picked it up, she realised at once who it was from and quickly hid it from the Marquis and it was only when she went to her room that she could open it.

  It was, of course, from Lord Charlton.

  “Dearest, beautiful Serla,” he began.

  “I love you and I think I will always love you, but I have bad news.

  I told my mother what I felt about you and how I had asked you to run away with me and she was very upset.

  She has not been very well for some time and I was ashamed of being so stupid as to confide in her without realising how much it would perturb her.

  She knew your mother and the trouble there was when she ran away and so she has made me promise that I will not ask you to run away with me because it would affect the whole family.

  I had to agree, but I don’t know what else I can do to take you away from the Marquis.

  I do so love you, Serla, and no one could be more beautiful or sweeter, but, as you will understand, I cannot make my mother unhappy.

  So please forgive me and think about me as I shall be thinking about you.

  David.”

  Serla read the letter through and could understand exactly what had happened.

  Lord Charlton was still only a boy and very much a contrast to the Marquis who was definitely a man.

  If she was in trouble she would not be able to rely on David, but the Marquis had proved himself, not once but twice when she was in danger.

  ‘Perhaps he will not want me to leave for some time and then someone else will turn up,’ she tried to tell herself.

  But she knew what really terrified her was that she would have to leave the Marquis eventually.

  When that did happen, she would leave her heart behind with him and life could never be the same again.

  Because she felt that she might be late she hurriedly changed for dinner and went downstairs.

  “You are early,” the Marquis commented when she appeared. “Grandmama says that it is too much trouble to come down to dinner with us, so we are alone.”

  Serla was afraid that he would see in her eyes how much she loved him, so she looked away and then said,

  “You promised to show me your secret passages.”

  “Of course, I did,” the Marquis replied, “and, as a special treat, because you have been such a brave girl, I will show them to you now.”

  He walked towards the fireplace and, feeling along the wall beside it, he opened a panel.

  Serla gave a little cry of excitement.

  “Is there one in every room?” she asked.

  “In quite a number,” he answered. “Wherever they were, if the Protestants were told that the Catholics were coming they could then disappear and even if the Catholics searched the house they could not find them.”

  “They must have been exciting times,” Serla said.

  “The same happened later with the Roundheads and the Royalists,” he went on. “I believe that my ancestors, who were Royalists, escaped death a dozen times when the Roundheads searched this house from top to bottom and they were hiding just the other side of the wall. Come and look.”

  He put out his hand and helped Serla through the secret panel and closed it behind them.

  She found herself in a very narrow passage between the panelling and the wall. It was cleverly constructed with an aperture from which, while the sun was shining, there was enough light to see their way.

  “It also brings in fresh air,” the Marquis said, as Serla looked up at the light. “That was important if anyone had to stay in these passages for a long time.”

  They walked on a little further and came first to the Chapel. This was where the Clergy had held their Services without being detected.

  There was a narrow altar built half into the wall with a beautiful golden cross above it and on one side there was a table and on it there were two large pistols.

  “So they were armed!” Serla exclaimed.

  “I think those were added in the Royalist days,” the Marquis explained. “The experts who have seen the pistols claim that they were made at about that time.”

  They were large and rather heavy weapons and then Serla saw two smaller pistols lying beside them.

  She looked at the Marquis for an explanation and he told her with a smile,

  “They have been added by me. As you know, and we certainly proved the necessity of it last night, I made my grooms learn to shoot and also the footmen. There are so many valuables in this house, but, if the burglars do take us unawares, they are in for a big surprise!”

  “So you have loaded pistols here ready to protect yourself and I suspect there are pistols in your writing desk and, of course, by your bed.”

  “I like to be forearmed and, as you saw last night, it is the man who is the strongest who wins the battle.”

  “I am very very grateful that you won mine,” Serla sighed.

  As if he felt a little embarrassed by her gratitude, the Marquis led her further on.

  He showed her places where those who had to stay in the hidden passages for a long time could sleep.

  They were almost like bunks on a ship and in one place there were four bunks rising one above another.

  “Do you think that they really had to stay here for a
long time?” Serla asked him.

  “I believe one of my ancestors never dared to come out for three months because the Roundheads were very determined to shoot or hang him. Eventually they went away having been told by the household that he had gone abroad to join King Charles. Actually he remained here until the Restoration of the Monarchy.”

  “How fascinating,” Serla enthused. “You must give me a book to read all about it.”

  “I will. Now it is about time for dinner, so I will take you back through my study.”

  He pressed a catch in the wall and, when it opened, Serla found herself beside the mantelpiece in the Marquis’s study.

  “There are more passages,” he said, “which go as far as the dining room and one that goes out into the garden behind some shrubs, so that it is never seen.”

  “It is all so exciting,” Serla said. “Thank you for letting me into your secret passages.”

  “They really are kept secret. None of the servants have any idea that they are here and only members of the family, which for the moment includes you, are allowed to know of their very existence, although they are mentioned in several history books of ancestral homes.”

  “I feel very privileged,” Serla responded, “and, if I disappear again – you will know where I am!”

  “It will certainly be easier to find you here than it was last night,” the Marquis smiled.

  He was thinking how he had trusted his instinct and once again it had not failed him.

  Several times during the War he had saved his men by doing the unexpected and he had not even been certain himself whether he was doing right or wrong. But he had followed his instinct and it had not let him down.

  As they walked towards the dining room, Serla was thinking that everything about the Marquis was exactly as it should be.

  Who else could have such a reputation for gallantry and be recognised as one of the Heroes of the War?”

  Who else had such a magnificent house and estate?

  Who else had fantastic secret passages that were as intriguing as the history of the Darincourts themselves?

  They reached the dining room and the Marquis sat down at the head of the table, which was weighed down with shining silver.

  Serla could see his handsome features in a number of the pictures that decorated the walls. They were of the Earls who had lived here when the house was first built.