Magic From the Heart

by Barbara Cartland

  He sat down on the mattress facing her and, taking her hand, held it in both of his to warm it.

  “Everything is all right,” he said, “you are in your own bed and no one will hurt you.”

  For a moment she did not understand.

  Then gradually the memory of what she had done came back to her and he saw the colour rise in her cheeks.

  “I-I drowned – myself,” she said in a whisper.

  “You tried to,” the Duke corrected her, “and it was a very wrong and wicked thing to do.”

  His fingers tightened for a moment on hers as he said,

  “Why did you not tell me that you were frightened of me?”

  Her eyes flickered and the colour deepened in her cheeks.

  “It was all my fault,” the Duke admitted, “and now I have a suggestion to make. Are you listening to me, Safina?”

  She had turned her head to one side, but her eyes were still open and she answered faintly,

  “I – am – listening.”

  “As I have said,” the Duke went on, “it was my fault for not realising how young you are and how deeply you were upset by your stepmother and everything that has happened today.”

  He paused before continuing,

  “So I am asking you to forgive me, Safina. Please let us start again in a very different manner.”

  He felt her fingers quiver in his.

  He knew that she was still apprehensive and perhaps as fearful as she had been when she had run away.

  “What we were trying to do,” the Duke said, “or rather I was, was to start in the middle of a story instead of at the beginning.”

  She made a little murmur, but he was not certain if she understood him.

  “What I am suggesting,” he went on, “and I hope you will agree, is that we begin at Chapter One – when we first met.”

  He was speaking in this way because he knew how intelligent she was and he thought it would appeal to her imagination.

  She had already told him when they visited the library how thrilled she was to see so many books.

  “Do – you mean – ” Safina started to say and then was too embarrassed to go any further.

  “What I mean,” the Duke said firmly, “is that we get to know each other. We have met today and we are like two people cast away on a desert island who have never met each other before and have to use their wits to save themselves from extinction.”

  Slowly Safina turned her head back so that she could look at him directly.

  “That is exactly what has – happened,” she whispered.

  “Of course it is,” the Duke said, “and this house is indeed a kind of desert island, only lacking the wild bananas we could eat to keep ourselves alive and the fish we could cook if we were clever enough to catch them.”

  Safina gave a weak little chuckle.

  “You are – making it – into a – story.”

  “It is a story, if you think about it,” the Duke answered, “and as we have to be the hero and heroine in it, we must not do anything that will spoil the readers’ enjoyment of our adventure.”

  His fingers tightened a little on hers as he said,

  “Promise you will not run away again and leave me all alone. Even Robinson Crusoe eventually had Man Friday with him.”

  Now Safina gave what was almost a weak laugh.

  “That is – not very – complimentary.”

  “In our story,” the Duke replied, “the heroine found a stranger who was shipwrecked with her. He was an understanding and intelligent man who was prepared to do anything she asked of him.”

  As he spoke, his eyes met Safina’s and they looked at each other in the light of the candle.

  “I am – sorry,” she whispered. “It was – ridiculous of – me to be so – frightened.”

  “I understand,” the Duke said, “and you must promise to forgive me for my stupidity.”

  “And – now,” Safina said in a very small voice, “we are – friends.”

  “Friends,” the Duke replied, “or, rather, shall we say partners? If we survive, we have to share everything that is at our disposal.”

  Safina gave an exclamation and then she said,

  “I had an – idea when – we came back – to the house after looking at – the lake – ”

  She coughed and then murmured,

  “I know it was very – wrong of me to – try to drown myself – Papa would have been – ashamed of my – being such a coward.”

  “You are not to think of it again,” the Duke said. “No one will ever know it happened and you and I will forget it.”

  “Can – you really do – that?”

  “I have forgotten it already,” he answered.

  As if she suddenly thought of it, Safina said,

  “You – must have – carried me back – and undressed me.”

  The colour was back again to her cheeks and the Duke replied,

  “You are not to think about it and you were not very heavy.”

  “I – made you – wet too.”

  “I was soaked,” the Duke said. “I will tell Banks that I have been swimming and, as I look after my own clothes, I will dry them in front of the fire.”

  He remembered as he spoke that he had left his nightshirt by the lake and told himself that he must remember to fetch it before the morning.

  “Now,” he said, “all that is forgotten and you were going to tell me something.”

  “I have thought of two things,” Safina said, “but you may think – them rather – foolish.”

  “If I do, I will say so,” the Duke replied. “But so far since we have been on our desert island, you have not said anything foolish.”

  Safina was silent for a moment, but he saw that there was a light in her eyes that had not been there before.

  “I remembered,” she began, “when that woman Mrs. Hewins was asking for the leaves from the Magic Tree, that, when I was in Florence, once a year the nuns celebrated the Anniversary of the Founder of the Convent.”

  She looked at the Duke to see if he was listening and went on,

  “Her name was Costanza and there is a Saint of that name.”

  “I expect I have heard of her,” the Duke commented.

  “What the nuns did,” Safina continued, “was to take tiny pieces from the habit of the Founder of the Convent and encase them in little nickel frames and they were supposed to give those who possessed them a Blessing all through the following year.”

  The Duke made a little murmur, as if he realised where the story was leading, but he did not interrupt.

  “One of these sacred emblems,” Safina continued, “was dipped in gold and sent to His Holiness the Pope.”

  “Do you really think we could do that with the leaves from King Charles’s tree?” the Duke enquired.

  “Why not?” Safina asked. “If they are so lucky for the people in the village, if they knew about them, people from all over England would want them too.”

  “It is certainly an idea,” the Duke answered.

  He remembered as he spoke that many of the members of Whites Club, however cynical they might pretend to be about such things, believed in lucky charms and omens.

  He knew that there were quite a number who would not make a bet on Friday the thirteenth and one member carried a hare’s foot, which was traditionally supposed to be lucky.

  Another treasured a rhinoceros horn, which he had brought back with him from a trip to Africa and there were a dozen or more who had different superstitions that they slavishly observed.

  Although he himself had laughed at such things, he had often longed for an omen that things would get better for him in the future.

  “Perhaps you are right,” he said aloud, “but I cannot believe that we would make enough money from that to do any great repairs on the house.”

  “I have not told – you my – second idea,” Safina said.

  “I am listening,” the Duke answered her.

  “It’s not
quite clear in my mind and I meant to think it out – tonight when I – went to bed.”

  She gave him a quick glance.

  He knew that she was remembering how she had run away and had thought in the morning that she would not be there.

  “You are breaking your promise,” he said sternly.

  She gave him a shy little smile and went on,

  “You may – think this is – impossible, but I am – sure that we can – do it.”

  “Do what?” the Duke asked.

  “First we have somehow to borrow some money on the thirty thousand pounds I come into when I am twenty-five – and also on the fortune I shall receive when Papa dies.”

  She was aware that the Duke stiffened and she said quickly,

  “We will not go to usurers, who, I have read, are very grasping – and extort huge sums from their clients.”

  She paused before continuing,

  “But I think that our Solicitors could talk to a bank – and, as you are a Duke, they cannot say that you are not respectable.”

  The Duke laughed.

  “There is no guarantee of that. But if we can borrow the money, what do you propose to do with it?”

  “That is what we shall have to explain – to whoever lends it to us.”

  She drew in her breath before she said,

  “We restore the house and make it as magnificent as it was before. Then we let people pay to come to see it.”

  The Duke stared at her.

  “I had the idea,” she said hastily before he could speak, “when I remembered that there was an Italian Prince who lived near Florence, who had the most splendid collection of pictures.”

  She pulled herself a little higher up on her pillow, as it was easier to talk when she was not lying so flat.

  “He could not bear to sell any of them, but, as he was very poor, he thought that he would be obliged to do so – sooner or later.”

  “He was lucky that he had something to sell,” the Duke remarked.

  “He loved his pictures and was determined not to do so,” Safina continued.

  “So what did he do?” the Duke asked.

  “He opened his picture gallery and other rooms in his house as if they were a museum.”

  “You mean people paid to view them?”

  “The pictures were famous, and hundreds if not thousands of people went to his Palazzo every year so that eventually he was able to close his doors again – and have them all to himself.”

  There was silence for a moment and then the Duke quizzed her,

  “Are you seriously suggesting that that is what we might do here?”

  “Why not?” Safina answered. “You know as well as I do that ordinary people as well as tourists would love to see inside a Ducal mansion.”

  She saw by the Duke’s expression that he was thinking that it would be unpleasant to have outsiders tramping around his house.

  “I am convinced,” she said, “that we shall make so much money in perhaps no more than five years that you will be able to pay back your debts – and then have the house all to yourself.”

  “All to ourselves,” the Duke corrected her. “It is certainly an idea.”

  He spoke slowly, as if he was beginning to think it out and then Safina said,

  “We will have to show the visitors around and we will need to have guides if we are not there. Of course they must be men we can trust to make sure that nobody steals anything.”

  “I think perhaps a number of my friends and neighbours would be shocked at my going into trade in such a very strange way,” the Duke remarked.

  “They would be much more shocked if you die of starvation or declare yourself a bankrupt,” Safina retorted. “I don’t suppose any of them have offered to help you out of your difficulties – by writing a cheque.”

  “I have no wish to accept charity,” the Duke said coldly.

  Safina laughed.

  “Now you are being proud! Personally I would accept anything from anyone – rather than go hungry!”

  She paused before adding,

  “And you should think of the feelings of your house rather than of yourself.”

  The Duke’s eyes twinkled as she went on,

  “Of course the poor thing minds looking so shabby and down-at-heel. I am quite certain that it has feelings of its own and resents every moment that there is water dripping down its face and holes in the windows that let in the wind and rain.”

  The Duke laughed.

  “I think that we need to explore what you have suggested, Safina, and now you must go to sleep.”

  “Is that – all you have to say about – my idea?”

  “No,” he replied. “I think it is original, brilliant and far cleverer than anything I should ever have expected from a young woman.”

  “Now you are being pompous and patronising,” Safina protested. “If you want the truth, I think because I was standing under your Magic Tree when I thought about it, that once again it has proved itself lucky.”

  “Very well,” the Duke said, “you have convinced me and we will talk about it tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!” Safina cried. “That has given me – another idea.”

  “What is it now?” he asked.

  “We need food and I suppose that somebody must go to the village to collect it.”

  “I will do that,” the Duke said.

  “Then I suggest,” Safina said, “if it is possible – that you send a carriage to collect the Solicitor who looks after my and Papa’s affairs. His main office is in Canterbury which is, I think, not far from here and only ten miles from Wick Park.”

  “I think I can beg, borrow or hire a carriage,” the Duke said slowly.

  “Then send for Mr. Metcalfe immediately. The firm is Metcalfe, Metcalfe and Storton, and their address is easy, Number 2, The High Street.”

  The Duke smiled.

  “I will obey your orders.”

  “If you are going to be snooty about everything,” Safina said, “I shall run away again.”

  “If you do that,” the Duke answered, “I shall let the fish eat you or give you a good smacking, which is obviously something you omitted to experience when you were a naughty child.”

  Safina laughed and then the Duke was laughing too.

  “Is this really happening?” she asked. “I think actually I must have – drowned and I am now – dreaming.”

  “You are being very sensible and very practical,” the Duke said, “and I am really very grateful. But I am just beginning to think that my partner on the desert island is a somewhat bossy young woman.”

  “And I am thinking that the old Fuddy-Duddy with whom I am marooned should have thought of these ideas for himself!”

  Then they were both laughing again and the Duke rose to his feet.

  “I am going to bed,” he said, “and make no mistake, by the morning this Fuddy-Duddy will have some new ideas and a great many orders for his partner. She might start, for instance, by dusting the house.”

  “Now you are being spiteful,” Safina protested. “You have already agreed that we shall have some more servants, young ones to help that poor old couple downstairs. You can engage them when you are in the village as well as getting the food.”

  The Duke clicked his heels together and saluted.

  “Very good, General,” he said. “I will do my best.”

  Safina laughed.

  “I will doubtless sleep late,” she said, “so you had better take the money I have in my bag in case the shops will not give you credit.”

  “If you say any more,” the Duke replied, “you will get that spanking I have already promised you!”

  “Stop being proud because I am a woman,” Safina retorted. “You know as well as I do that you would be embarrassed to ask for more credit and they will be delighted to take any money you have available. If I was a man, you would not hesitate.”

  “But you are not,” the Duke replied blithely.

  It flashed th
rough his mind how very beautiful she looked when he dried her.

  After all, she was his wife!

  He wondered what she would say if he suggested that he kiss her to seal their partnership.

  Then he was afraid that once again she would be terrified of him and run away when she knew he would be asleep.

  “Where is this money?” he asked.

  “My bag is in the right-hand drawer of the dressing table.”

  He walked towards it and opened her handbag, which, he realised, was a very expensive one and had doubtless been bought in Florence.

  He was surprised to find that inside there were a number of sovereigns and several notes of large value.

  He looked at them enquiringly and Safina explained,

  “I changed all the Italian money I had before I left Florence at the bank. They were very obliging and so I also cashed a cheque, thinking I might have a good number of things to buy as soon as I reached London.”

  She thought for a moment, as she spoke, of her stepmother, how she had arranged for her to be taken from Dover to the Posting house.

  Then she thrust the memory aside.

  “Take all that is there,” she said, “for food and wages and, as I did not spend all my allowance when I was at school, I have quite a considerable sum in the bank.”

  She laughed before she went on,

  “Not enough to repair the house, but at least to make you and me as partners more comfortable than we are at the moment.”

  She emphasised the word partners.

  As the Duke reluctantly took the money from her bag, as she had told him to do, he repeated almost beneath his breath,

  “Partners, I must keep remembering that is what we are.”

  “And as you have said yourself,” Safina replied as if she must have the last word, “there are no bananas growing on this desert island and therefore you have to buy them!”

  Chapter Six

  Safina looked around the study and thought that it looked better.

  She had risen early to find to her surprise that the Duke had already left for the village.

  She had her breakfast alone and then she went into the garden to pick lilac both white and purple, tulips and daffodils. She arranged them in a number of vases and put them on the furniture.

  Then she searched in the other rooms to find cushions that were not faded and torn for the chairs.