The Unbreakable Spell

CHAPTER ONE 1820-1

CHAPTER ONE 1820Rocana was sitting sewing in the window seat of what had been the schoolroom of The Castle when the door was burst open.

She looked up to see her cousin and realised at one glance at her lovely face that something was wrong.

“What is it, Caroline?” she asked.

It seemed as if for a moment Lady Caroline Brunt found it impossible to reply.

Then as she walked towards Rocana she said furiously,

“I will not do it! I will not marry him whatever Papa may say!”

“Marry!” Rocana exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

Caroline sat down on the window seat and clasping her hands together answered,

“You will not believe what has – happened!”

Rocana put down the lace she was mending with very small stitches that trimmed the Duchess’s gown.

“Tell me about it,” she said in her soft voice. “I can see it has upset you.”

“Upset me!” Caroline exclaimed. “I am furious and completely devastated, but I do not know what to do – about it!”

There was something pathetic in the last words and Rocana bent forward to put her hand on Caroline’s.

“Tell me,” she begged.

“Papa has just told me that he has invited the Marquis of Quorn to stay for the Steeplechase that takes place on Wednesday,” Caroline replied, “and the Marquis has intimated that he will ask me to marry him!”

“The Marquis of Quorn!” Rocana exclaimed. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am sure! And when I declared firmly that I have no intention of marrying him, Papa merely said ‘I don’t wish to argue about it, Caroline, you must talk to your mother’.”

Both girls were still, knowing that it was impossible to talk to the Duchess, for if she had made up her mind nothing and nobody would be able to alter it.

There was a silence until Caroline jumped up to say again,

“I will not marry him! I will not! You know that I love Patrick and he was waiting for an opportunity to approach Papa.”

Rocana did not say anything because she had always been certain that Caroline would never be allowed to marry Patrick Fairley.

Their nearest neighbour, the son of a Baronet and a very charming person, there was nothing wrong with him except that the Duchess was extremely ambitious for her daughter and had set her sights very much higher than on a mere country gentleman.

Usually Caroline was quiet and obedient to her mother’s wishes and in every way an exemplary daughter.

Only Rocana knew how much falling in love had changed her and perhaps for the first time in her life a little of her mother’s strong will had become evident in her.

It was not surprising that she had fallen in love with Patrick, a boy she had known all her life, because it was only in the last two months that Caroline had emerged from the school room to become a Social debutante.

Before that no Social life had been organised for her, and in accordance with normal custom, when the Duke and Duchess entertained, she did not join the party, but ate with her cousin and her Governess upstairs.

It was therefore inevitable, since she met Patrick Fairley almost every day when the girls went riding to exercise their horses, that not only would he fall in love with her but she with him.

Only Rocana realised what was happening and wondered when it was found out what the Duchess would say.

Actually, she did not wonder, she knew only too well.

The Duchess had pushed her husband into every position of authority in the county and had forced him against his will to take up his hereditary duties at the Palace.

The Duke was an easy-going man who was perfectly content to spend his time in looking after his estate and enjoying himself with his horses and dogs.

His only extravagance was to keep a number of racehorses that seldom came in first, but gave him the excuse of attending race meetings, which to his relief did not interest his wife.

It must have been on these occasions, Rocana thought now, that he had become acquainted with the Marquis of Quorn who moved in a very different circle from that of the Duke and Duchess of Bruntwick.

It would have been impossible, even in the depths of the country, not to have heard of the Marquis, who was a close friend of the Prince Regent, but at the same time was a very different character from the Bucks and Beaux who surrounded His Royal Highness.

The Marquis was by all accounts not only one of the richest noblemen in the country, but also the most successful at everything he undertook.

Even the Duke could not help extolling his successes on the Racecourses, where his horses ‘walked off’ with every prize.

He was also known to be an exceptional shot and a pugilist who had boxed with ‘Gentleman’ Jackson and Mendoza and he had also distinguished himself in the war, receiving several medals for gallantry.

If he was a hero in the stables, he was also whispered about in every drawing room.

Rocana could remember hearing more from the servants than from her aunt’s friends what was not meant for her ears.

Although it did not particularly interest her, she had heard of the Marquis’s many love affairs, some of which had ended in tragedy.

It was said, although it might not be true, that more than one beautiful lady had committed suicide when he left her, while others had pined away with broken hearts.

It was also related that he had fought a number of duels, which he invariably won, with jealous husbands who had ‘called him out’ to defend their honour.

To Rocana he had become like a fictional character in a book and, although she told herself he was too fantastic to be true, she found herself adding up his exploits as if each was a further chapter to all that she had already learned about him.

Now to hear that he intended to marry Caroline took her breath away.

When she could speak, she asked,

“Do you know the Marquis?”

“I have met him about three times, I suppose,” Caroline replied. “Lady Jersey introduced him to me at Almack’s, and I was well aware she was doing it out of spite as he had no wish to dance with a debutante!”

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing, I was too shy,” Caroline replied. “Besides, he was scowling because he had no wish to dance, least of all with me!”

“When did you see him again?”

“I cannot remember at which ball it was. Perhaps the one at Devonshire House.”

“What happened then?”

“He came up to speak to Papa about a race meeting they had attended the day before. There had been an objection over the way one of the horses had run or something tiresome like that.”

“Go on,” Rocana prompted.

“When they had talked for some time, Papa said, ‘you have met my daughter Caroline?’

The Marquis bowed and I curtsied and he said,

‘We danced together at Almack’s.’

“I was surprised he remembered and I said, ‘yes,’ and he did not speak to me again.”

“What happened the next time?”

“He had to talk to me then because I was sitting next to him at dinner, but he did not say much because he was engaged in conversation with the lady on his other side, who was certainly not going to allow me to capture his attention if she could help it!”

Caroline paused.

Then she added,

“He is stuck up, full of his own self-importance, condescending and, if you want the truth, I dislike him!”

“Then how can you marry him?” Rocana asked.

“I cannot do it! I cannot!” Caroline cried. “I know this is all Mama’s doing! If she could not find a Prince or a Duke for me, then a Marquis was the next best thing!”

Rocana thought privately that from what she had heard the Marquis was far more important than any Duke.

But she could understand that Caroline would feel helpless and inevitably miserable with a man who was overbearing and had a reputation like the Marquis.

At the same time he might well be looking for a wife, because sooner or later he must have an heir to inherit his title, his wealth and his vast possessions.

Although Rocana had not seen any of the other debutantes, she could not believe that any of them could be more beautiful than Caroline.

Her cousin in fact typified the traditional ‘English Rose’.

She had a perfect pink and white skin, large, rather pale blue eyes and fair hair which any poet would describe as ‘the gold of ripening corn’.

She was graceful, she was usually very sweet tempered and it was too much to ask that on top of all these attributes she should be very intelligent as well.

When they had their lessons together, it was Rocana who always outstripped anything their Governess could teach her on any particular subject and she had therefore had to carry on where they left off and educate herself.

When she had first come to live at The Castle after her parents’ death, she had thought it was a prison in which she was incarcerated for life and she was so miserable that she thought she must die.

Then she discovered the huge library which had awoken her interest and made her feel she had something to live for.

It was her mother who had taught her from when she was very small to be curious to the point where she wanted to learn more about anything she heard being talked about.

It was her mother who had taught her French, which was her own native language, and had made her aware that, marvellous though the British thought themselves, there were other countries and other people in other parts of the world.

“You have to be broad-minded, my darling,” she said. “The more you learn and the more you study, the more you will be able to see other people’s points of view and understand their feelings as well as your own.”

It was something it had been very hard to do during the war when, because the English were fighting against her mother’s native country, not only many of their so-called friends ostracised her, but also her husband’s nearest relatives.

It was a long time later after she had come to live at The Castle that Rocana realised, although it seemed incredible, that the Duke had actually been jealous of his younger brother and the Duchess of her mother.

As was usual in the great aristocratic families of England, the eldest son had everything.

The Duke of Bruntwick had his title, The Castle and a huge estate, while his younger brother had a small allowance which meant he was continually in debt.

Because everybody loved ‘Lord Leo’, as he was always known, although he had been christened ‘Leopold’, he was welcomed wherever he went, and his real friends accepted his French wife for his sake.

It was, however, very difficult, as Rocana realised, for her mother who adored her husband and had no wish to embarrass him.

She had been the daughter of the French Ambassador to England during the Armistice of 1802.

Lord Leo had seen her at a party in London and had immediately known she was what he had been looking for all his life.

Very good-looking, popular, a man’s man, though at the same time women were wildly attracted to him, Lord Leo had a charm that few people and no animal could resist.

If he had fallen in love with Yvette de Soissons, it was not surprising that she had fallen in love with him.

In spite of the disapproval of the Duke and Duchess of Bruntwick and the anxious concern of the Ambassador, they were married within a few months.

To say they were happy was to put it mildly.

They were ecstatic and everything was perfect until hostilities broke out again between Britain and France.

The Ambassador returned to Paris and, although he was a rich man, he was unable to send his daughter any money.

“I am just an encumbrance!” Rocana heard her mother say once when she did not know that she was listening.

“What do I want with money?” her father asked, “when you have given me the moon, the stars and a happiness that Midas himself could not exceed?”

He had swept her into his arms and kissed her until they were laughing because it was so wonderful to be together, and Rocana had known from that moment that money could not buy love.