The Glittering Lights (Bantam Series No. 12) (2 page)

“It is over a year,” Cassandra murmured almost beneath her breath.

“I know that,” Sir James said, “and I should think it almost insulting if he had not prefixed his letter with ‘Now that the period of mourning for my father has ended...’ ”

“And how does he go on?” Cassandra asked.

“He suggests that his visit here, which has been postponed for so long, should now take place,” Sir James replied. “He asks if he would be welcome in two weeks’ time, on the tenth of April to be exact.”

Cassandra turned her head away to look at the fire. She held out her hands towards the flames as if she suddenly felt cold.

Sir James looked at her profile a little while before he said:

“You know, dearest, without my having to tell you, that I have always wanted you to marry the son of my old friend. We have not spoken about it for some time, but we are both aware it has been in the back of our minds.”

‘That is true,’ Cassandra thought.

She and her father always knew what the other was thinking and it had been obvious these past months that they both deliberately avoided the subject of her marriage.

“It was all arranged and everything appeared to be straight-forward,” Sir James continued, “until everything was upset by two, or should I say three, unexpected deaths.”

‘That also is true,’ Cassandra thought.

It had been planned that she should make her
debut
in the summer of 1884. She was to have gone to London and her father had planned a Ball at a house he had recently acquired in Park Lane. She was to have been presented at Buckingham Palace and to have been chaperoned, as her mother was unable to do so, by her father’s step-sister, Lady Fladbury.

Then a week before they were due to leave Yorkshire, her mother’s father, the Earl of O’Derry, had died and they had been plunged into mourning.

Queen Victoria had set a precedent for mourning long and ostentatiously every relative, however seldom one had met them and however slight the ties of affection.

It was therefore impossible for Cassandra to make her
debut
then. All the arrangements that had been made in London were cancelled and they stayed in Yorkshire.

The following year the scene was set once again and Lady Fladbury who was only too willing to present Cassandra to London society, had actually sent out invitations to Receptions, Soirees and Balls to coincide with her arrival in London.

Two days before Cassandra and her father were due to set out from Yorkshire, Lord Fladbury died of a sudden heart-attack.

“That settles it!” Cassandra said. “I am obviously fated not to be a
debutante
!”

“Fladbury was only an Uncle by marriage,” Sir James said, “but as the social world knows that my step-sister was chaperoning you, we can hardly ignore the fact that she is widowed and that we must wear black for at least a month or two.”

“Cassandra cannot be presented in the circumstances,” Lady Alice had said in concern. “I would take her to Buckingham Palace myself, despite the fact that I am in a wheel-chair, but how can I make an application before poor George is even in the grave. It would be in the worst possible taste.”

“It does not worry me in the slightest, Mama,” Cassandra said. “Quite frankly I would much rather spend the summer here in Yorkshire. You know as well as I do that I enjoy the races, and I find my own friends with whom I have been brought up far more agreeable than all the strange notabilities to whom I should be very small fry.”

“Dammit! I wanted you to have a London Season,” Sir James said irritably, “and I have made all the arrangements with the Duke.”

That, Cassandra knew, annoyed her father more than anything else.

Sir James and the Duke of Alchester had decided many years ago that their children should marry each other.

The Duke wanted an heiress for his son—he made no bones about it! His great estate was mortgaged, the house was in disrepair, and the Marquess of Charlbury was well aware that he had to marry money.

“I had been half-afraid that I should have to put up with a damned American or a tradesman’s daughter,” the Duke had snorted to Sir James. “What could be better than that your girl and my boy should make a match, and we can see that they do things properly?”

The Marquess of Charlbury, who was six years older than Cassandra, had been abroad when it had all been decided.

“I have sent the boy to see the world,” the late Duke said. “It will make him appreciate his position in this country. No-body, as you well know, Sherburn, has a better family tree or a finer family seat. It is just that we have not enough money to keep it up.”

Sir James and the Duke of Alchester had been friends for some years. They had met at Tattersall’s Sale-rooms where for some months they vied against each other in trying to acquire the finest horses.

It was after Sir James had out-bid the Duke and paid an exorbitant price for two particularly fine hunters, that he had walked up to the older man to say:

“It strikes me, Your Grace, that we are pouring a lot of unnecessary money, not only into the pockets of the owners, but also into the hands of those who run this Sale-room.”

The Duke looked at Sir James in surprise. Then he had succumbed, just as so many other people had done before him, to the younger man’s charm.

“What do you suggest we do about it?” he asked.

“Come to a sensible arrangement between us!” Sir James replied. “We can inspect the horses before the sales, pick out those in which we are personally interested, and agree as to which ones each shall bid for.”

The same agreement applied to their race-horses. When they went to the Newmarket or to the sales which took place on the race-course, they were always seen consulting each other and if one of them was bidding the other was silent.

Because the love of horses is the closest bond that an Englishman can have with another, the Duke and Sir James Sherburn became close friends.

Cassandra was only twelve when she first saw the Marquis of Charlbury.

Her father had taken her to the Eton v. Harrow cricket match at
Lords. They had a Coach on the Mound, where an innumerable number of people of all ages drank champagne and ate raspberries and cream, usually with their backs to the cricket.

Cassandra however watched the boys in their white flannels fighting the annual battle of Eton College against Harrow School, and it had been impossible not to realise that the Captain of Eton was an outstanding young man.

He took four wickets and made sixty runs and had, it appeared, ensured almost single-handed that Eton was the winner.

He had been brought by the Duke to Sir James’s coach during the afternoon and Cassandra, seated on the box, had looked down at him with interest.

She had not realised then that her future was already being planned for her by her father and the Duke.

In his long white flannel trousers, blazer and pale blue cap the Marquis had appeared extremely handsome. His hair was dark and he had grey eyes which she noticed immediately.

There was an expression of curiosity in them which made him, she thought, appear to look penetratingly at anyone to whom he spoke, as if he was searching for something.

He was tall and extremely thin, as if he had almost outgrown his strength, or else driven himself hard.

There was no doubt that he was popular with other Etonians, while older men spoke of what he had achieved at the match with a pride that told those who listened it was part of the nostalgia of their schooldays.

The Duke was talking eagerly to Sir James about a horse he had heard of in Suffolk and which he thought was worth their attention.

The young Marquis was surrounded by the young women who had been accepting Sir James’s hospitality.

They were flattering him, hanging on his words, laughing at everything he said and doing their utmost, Cassandra thought with a little curve of her lips, to make themselves alluring.

‘Today he is the hero of the match,’ she thought. ‘Tomorrow they will have forgotten him.’

But she was to learn as the years went on that the Marquis of Charlbury was not someone who was easily forgotten!

The newspapers were full of him, the illustrated journals went into rhapsodies over his looks, his charm and his rank.

She could never remember afterwards whether they had actually been introduced that day at Lords; but whether they had or not, she had certainly made no impact upon him, while she knew that as far as she was concerned her life had been changed that warm summer’s afternoon.

It seemed to her inevitable and in a way part of a dream when her father told her that he and the Duke had planned that she should marry the Marquis.

“And supposing he does not like me?” she asked.

For a moment Sir James looked a little embarrassed.

“My dearest, you must understand,” he said, “that in the social world marriages are arranged by the parents of those concerned.”

“But could such a marriage ever be successful?” Cassandra enquired.

“They are successful,” Sir James answered. “In the vast majority of cases the two people concerned fall in love with each other after the marriage and live in great contentment.”

“Are you telling me that that is what happened with you and Mama?”

Sir James smiled.

“As usual, Cassandra, you have put your finger upon my Achilles’ heel! I met your mother by chance. I fell in love with her as soon as I saw her. I think she will tell you that she also fell in love with me.”

He paused and then he said:

“I was much older than she, Cassandra. I always intended to marry, but only when I was quite certain I found someone who would suit me.”

“In other words,” Cassandra said, “you meant to marry someone who had both breeding and an important place in the social world. You were rich, Papa, but you had no intention of not furthering your ambitions by your marriage.”

“We have always been frank with each other,” Sir James replied, “and therefore I can admit in all honesty, Cassandra, that that is more or less the truth. I had no intention, when I gave up my bachelor-hood, of making anything but a brilliant social marriage, something which I may add I had enjoyed very much.”

Cassandra laughed.

“I have heard it said, Papa, that there has never been such a flirt as you, and that women pursued you like flies around a honey-pot!”

“You flatter me!” Sir James protested, but his eyes were twinkling.

“What you are trying to tell me,” Cassandra went on, “is that you always intended to make a
mariage de convenance.
You would not have married someone unimportant, however much you loved her.”

“I was fortunate in that the situation did not arise,” Sir James said, “so I cannot tell you what I would have done in different circumstances. It was true I was enamoured with many lovely women and perhaps you are right in saying I broke a number of hearts! But the moment I saw your mother I loved her.”

There was something rather moving in the simplicity with which he spoke.

“And I am not to have the same chance of finding someone I love,” Cassandra said in a small voice.

Sir James made a gesture with his hands.

“My dear, you are a woman and how can a woman judge what is best for herself? Not a rich woman at any rate.”

“You mean that, as soon as I am old enough, men will want to marry me for my money?” Cassandra said.

“Men will want to marry you because you are lovely, because you are sweet, intelligent and have a personality of your own,” Sir James corrected. “And, to add to all that, you are also a very wealthy young woman!”

Cassandra sighed.

“So I have to allow you to choose my husband?”

“You have to trust me as you have always done, to know what is best for you.”

“And what about the Marquis?” Cassandra enquired. “He is a man. He can have his own choice as you did.”

“No! Charlbury has to marry for money,” Sir James said. “There is no question of that. The Alchester Estate is in the red. Because I am the Duke’s friend, he has confided in me that it will require a small fortune to set things to rights. The only chance Charlbury has of living in the home of his ancestors is to take a rich wife.”

“He may ... love someone quite ... different.”

Cassandra felt as though she forced the words between her lips.

“He is a gentleman,” Sir James replied. “He will, I know, always show his wife courtesy and consideration. I have never heard anyone say anything unpleasant or indeed unkind about Charlbury.”

Cassandra felt after this conversation that her father would arrange for her to meet the young Marquis. He so often went to stay at Alchester Park with the Duke or they met at one of their Clubs.

It seemed strange that no invitation for her came to The Towers and there was never any question of the Marquis being asked to stay for one of the innumerable Balls or functions which took place in Yorkshire.

When she was older she realised that this was deliberate on her father’s part.