Love is Triumphant

by Barbara Cartland

  "They ought to give women the vote," Rosina said crossly. "In fact they ought to let us sit in Parliament."

  "Well, maybe that too will happen one day," he soothed.

  "Are you daring to patronise me?" she asked, ready to be angry again.

  "I wouldn't dare. You scare me. You're the most terrifyingly intelligent young woman I know."

  Inwardly she sighed. So much for dreaming of dazzling him with her beauty. She was intelligent. She terrified him.

  "I can't help being intelligent," she sighed.

  "Not only intelligent but well-informed."

  "Which is another crime in a woman," she reminded him.

  "With your background you could hardly be anything else. I think your father was already in Parliament when you were born, wasn't he?"

  "Yes, he won his seat in '46, and I was born four years later. I hardly saw Papa on my second birthday because it coincided with election night.

  "And nobody ever talked about anything else but politics in our house," she continued. "And Uncle William is Papa's friend."

  The man she so casually referred to as 'Uncle William' was in fact William Ewart Gladstone, leader of the Liberal Party.

  "And 'Uncle William' will win the coming election and be Prime Minister," Sir John supplied. "At least, that is what we must all hope and work for. He's a great man, a great reformer. He sees what's wrong with this country and he thinks – "

  'Oh heavens!' Rosina thought. 'This isn't what I want to hear at this moment.'

  But she could see that Sir John was fired with enthusiasm, and she didn't want to say or do anything that would bring the time with him to an end – even if he was the most annoying man she had ever known. So she listened carefully and made intelligent observations, and at last he said,

  "It was nice of you to listen to me. I've managed to get several ideas sorted out in my head."

  "I'm glad," she said politely.

  Inwardly she sighed. She would much rather he tell her that she was pretty, and her eyes were like stars.

  But later, she promised herself. Later. When she was eighteen.

  "I can't wait to leave school," she said, "and be part of all the excitement."

  "It is going to be an exciting time," he agreed. "Here are the letters from your parents. I think you'll find they have a lot to say about plans for the summer. Your mother told me you were all thinking of going to Italy."

  "Oh, I'm sure that's all off now," she said cheerfully. "Who could possibly want to go to Italy, when they could get pelted on the hustings instead?"

  "That's the spirit," he told her, clapping her heartily on the shoulder. "Well, I must be going now. I dare say we'll bump into each other again during the course of the election campaign."

  "I'm sure we will," she said politely.

  'Otherwise,' she thought, 'you won't give me another thought until the Liberals have won. And then you'll probably have a government job and think of me even less.'

  As they walked back to the school building they came in sight of the wing where Rosina had her room, two floors up. Looking up, she saw Miss Draycott standing on the balcony outside her window. The teacher waved cheerfully when she saw Rosina, and pointed to the watch on her wrist.

  "That's Miss Draycott," Rosina told Sir John. "She's reminding me that I have a music lesson with her in about five minutes."

  "Then I'll leave you here," he said. "Please say goodbye to the Headmistress for me."

  He gave her a little bow, and departed.

  Rosina looked up to Miss Draycott on the high balcony, waved back, and began to hurry into the building.

  Miss Draycott wasn't like other teachers. She was very pretty, and only about twenty-five. Her room was next door to Rosina's, and it had been easy for them to become close friends.

  Gradually the age gap between them had seemed to vanish, and at last Miss Draycott had confided in Rosina about the man she loved. His name was Arthur Woodward and he was ambitious to enter politics and get to the top.

  To the young Rosina the whole story was wildly romantic. More thrilling still was being allowed to read some of his letters with their expressions of love and passion.

  "Oh, how I hope that someday a wonderful man will write to me like this," she mused.

  At that moment she was not thinking particularly of Sir John. She enjoyed the mild, exciting infatuation she felt for him, but she knew it was not the overwhelming love that she hoped to find some day.

  When that day came, it seemed to her that to receive such declarations of devotion must be the pinnacle of any woman's life.

  Certainly Miss Draycott seemed to feel the same. There was a glow about her today that Rosina thought she understood.

  "Has he written again?" she whispered, and the teacher nodded joyfully.

  There were three other girls taking the lesson, so they were unable to talk further. After that Rosina had a geography lesson, but as soon as it was over she raced upstairs and knocked on Miss Draycott's door.

  "Come in."

  She went in to find the teacher standing in the tall window that led out onto the balcony. She had a letter clutched in her hand, and looked ecstatically happy.

  "And who was that good-looking young man I saw you with?" she teased.

  "Oh, you mean Sir John Crosby?" Rosina replied with a shrug. "He's not particularly good-looking." "Isn't he?"

  "Anyway, how could you tell from here? It's so far away."

  Miss Draycott laughed.

  "I could tell by the way you seemed so absorbed in him."

  "I was not," Rosina said, stung.

  She looked down at the ground, at the stones immediately beneath them, then the lawns leading to the woods and the stream. For a moment the height made her giddy.

  "Come back from the edge," Miss Draycott said. "These balcony rails aren't quite high enough for tall women like us."

  They drew back into the room and closed the window.

  "What did Mr Woodward have to say?" Rosina asked.

  "He's taking me out tonight. We're going to eat at a smart restaurant." She indicated two dresses hanging up, one blue, one pink. "Which of these do you think I should wear?"

  "Oh, I think the pink one."

  "Yes, I'm sure that Arthur will admire me in pink as I wore blue when I dined with him last week."

  "Mind you," Rosina added, "I don't think he'll mind what you wear. Not if he really loves you."

  "Oh he does love me, I know he does," Miss Draycott said at once. "And I love him with all my heart. I am hoping and praying that he will ask me to be his wife."

  "How thrilling that will be," Rosina replied. "When he's in Parliament you'll have to have a house in London. Then there will be parties, and theatres and all sorts of nice things to go to, every night. It will be very exciting." Miss Draycott smiled.

  "It will be very exciting to be with the man I love and who loves me," she answered.

  She spoke very softly, as if she was speaking to herself.

  Rosina was silent for a moment. She could not help thinking of Sir John's warning that Miss Draycott's lover would either need a wealthy patron or a wealthy wife.

  But he loved her, Rosina reassured herself. What could ambition matter beside true love?

  Miss Draycott was sighing happily, lost in the vision of herself as a bride.

  "I think I'll have my wedding dress made up in London," she said. "After all, the wedding is the most important day of a woman's life. I want my husband to remember me as being more beautiful than at any other time we have been together."

  "I'm sure he'll think so," Rosina said.

  Miss Draycott sighed.

  "I only wish I were rich," she said. "Then I could help Arthur in all sorts of ways."

  "Perhaps he'll win some money racing, or a relation will die and leave you a fortune," Rosina suggested.

  Miss Draycott spoke with sudden bitterness.

  "That only happens in books," she said. "In real life you struggle to keep y
our head above water, but without money you are likely to sink to the bottom and no one will even be sorry for you."

  Then she brightened again, for nothing could depress her for long when she was going to meet the man she adored.

  "Would you like to see his letter?" she asked eagerly.

  Rosina took the letter that had arrived that day, and read,

  'I will count the hours until we are together tonight. Unfortunately I have to go away tomorrow to visit some friends, but I'll just start counting the hours again, until I can see you.

  'I'm longing to see you tonight, and to tell you how much I love you. That will take me a very long time. Goodbye, my darling, and think of me until we meet.'

  "That is lovely," Rosina said. "It's the sort of thing I'd like someone to write to me."

  "It will soon be your turn," Miss Draycott said.

  "You must keep such a beautiful letter."

  "Of course I will keep it. I keep all Arthur's letters and when I feel depressed and miserable, I read them over and over again."

  Rosina helped her to finish dressing, and waved her off. When it was time to go to bed that night she lay awake, thinking of her friend and how madly in love she was.

  Then she thought of Sir John and heard again the sudden bitterness in his voice when he spoke of love.

  What had he meant by it?

  Had he been in love with some girl who had not loved him in return?

  She was suddenly aware that he had a whole life that was hidden from her. In reality she knew almost nothing about him.

  She wondered what her own lover would be like, and when he would arrive in her life. Would he be charming, handsome and passionately devoted to her?

  She tried to picture him, on one knee before her, offering his heart and a diamond ring.

  But all she could see was Sir John glaring at her and calling her a silly child.

  She turned over and thumped the pillow in frustration.

  CHAPTER TWO

  As the night wore on Rosina's thoughts were more and more with Miss Draycott and her lover. What was happening now? Had he proposed? Were they celebrating their future happiness?

  She had once seen them together, although even Miss Draycott did not know about that. She had been buying some oddments in the village, accompanied by a couple of the other pupils, for girls were not allowed to go to the village alone.

  They had been thinking of going into a teashop, and Rosina had looked inside one as they passed. There she had seen Miss Draycott and a very handsome young man, sitting together in the corner, absorbed in each other.

  Arthur Woodward had been smiling in a way that added greatly to his looks. But it had been Miss Draycott herself who held Rosina's attention. The way she held her lover's hand, the fervour with which she gazed at him, above all her total, enraptured stillness, all these things showed Rosina that this was a woman in the grip of a death defying passion. This man was her life, her world. She wanted no other, and could have no other. Without him there would be nothing.

  As for him, he was devoting himself to her

  charmingly, but he was not lost in her as she was lost in him. The chasm between what he felt for her and what she felt for him was very plain.

  Rosina had turned away suddenly to face the girls with her.

  "Not this place," she said. "I don't like it."

  "But we want some tea," they had protested.

  "We must find somewhere else," she had said firmly, determined to protect Miss Draycott from prying eyes.

  She had meant to tell Miss Draycott what she had seen, and they could smile about it together. But strangely she found that she could not speak of it. She had seen something she had not been meant to see, something deeply private and secret. And she knew she must keep silent.

  But she could never forget what she had witnessed. Now she knew how a woman looked when she loved a man body and soul, more than her own life, so that nothing but him existed in the whole world. The intensity of it was almost frightening.

  All this came back to her as she lay listening for Miss Draycott's return. When at last it came she knew there had been no proposal. Her friend walked slowly as though there were a heaviness in her heart, and something about that sound warned Rosina not to go to her, but to leave her to grieve in private.

  *

  Over the days that followed Rosina found that although Miss Draycott was meeting her lover on every possible occasion, there were long days and nights when she did not see him.

  But the letters arrived almost every morning.

  They kept her happy even though Rosina was well aware that the future seemed inevitably dark and empty, since he never mentioned marriage.

  'If I could see him,' Rosina thought, 'I would tell him that he should marry Miss Draycott and somehow they would manage together to make some money, however difficult it may seem now.'

  Then, one night, when Rosina was undressing and getting ready to go to bed, she heard someone drive up to their wing.

  Looking down from her window she saw a man slip a letter through the letter box. It was hard to see clearly from this height, and in the darkness, but she could almost have sworn that the man was Arthur Woodward.

  But why was he delivering his letter in such a secretive way, at this time of night?

  Throwing on her dressing gown, Rosina hurried downstairs. There lay the letter on the mat, and it was addressed to Miss Draycott. She snatched it up and hurried back upstairs.

  As she reached the hall Miss Draycott opened her door.

  "Where have you been at this hour?" she asked.

  "Getting something which has just been delivered for you," Rosina answered holding out the envelope.

  "Just been delivered!" Miss Draycott exclaimed.

  She took the letter and returned to her room, Rosina following her.

  "How strange, that he should write to me at such a late hour. His letters usually arrive in the morning."

  She lit the lamp, and Rosina could see that her eyes were shining.

  "It must be something special," she mused. "Something that couldn't wait. Oh Rosina, do you think – after all this time - ?"

  "Perhaps. Read it quickly."

  "Don't go. Stay a moment, and then I can share the good news with you. Then you can go to bed and sleep happily as I will do."

  Rosina smiled at her.

  "I must admit I am rather curious," she said, "as to what is in that envelope."

  It would have been truer to say that she was full of foreboding. Something told her that all was not well.

  Miss Draycott sat down on the bed, took out the letter and started to read it.

  Rosina did not move or say anything. She just waited, her eyes fixed on her friend's face.

  As Miss Draycott read the first page, then turned it over to read the second, Rosina asked in a low voice,

  "Is it good news?"

  Miss Draycott did not answer.

  Then as she finished reading, she folded up the letter.

  Putting it on her lap, she stared at the wall as if she was seeing something.

  She did not speak.

  As the minutes passed, Rosina asked gently, "What has happened?"

  For a moment Miss Draycott did not reply.

  Then she said in a voice which did not sound like her own,

  "Well, we were partly correct. This letter is to announce his intention to marry – but not to me."

  "I don't believe it," Rosina said mechanically. But in the depths of her heart, she knew that she did believe it. Sir John had been right all the time, and suddenly she hated him for it.

  "He has considered the matter," Miss Draycott said slowly, "and believes that we have no future together. He wants – " she broke off and a shudder went through her, "he wants me to return his letters."

  "Who is he marrying?" Rosina asked in a tight voice.

  "He does not say." Miss Draycott gave a forlorn smile. "Perhaps he's afraid that if I knew I would make trouble. He ne
ed not worry. I would do nothing to harm him. I hope he'll be very happy, and have everything he wants in life."

  She spoke in a soft, heart-broken voice that filled Rosina with dread. Following dread came anger.

  "I hope he won't be happy," she said through gritted teeth. "I hope he'll be as miserable as he deserves to be."

  "Don't say that," Miss Draycott said fiercely. "Don't wish him ill. I forbid you, do you understand?"

  "But why should he be happy when he's treated you like this?" Rosina cried. "What right does he have?"

  "Every right. If he finds he cannot love me then – then he is right to leave me. He can be a great man, a politician, a leader, and he must let nothing stand in his way. If I must stand aside for his welfare then – then I am willing to do so."

  "But the way he's treated you – "

  "He has done what he had to," Miss Draycott said in a shaking voice, "and I honour him for it. He will suffer no harm or scandal because of me."

  She turned a ravaged face on Rosina.

  "Don't you understand?" she said in a husky voice. "To do him no harm is all I can hope for."

  "How can you say that?" cried Rosina. "He's a

  greedy, selfish coward. Why don't you hate him?"

  "Because I love him. Even now I love him. I cannot help it. One day you will love a man, more than your own life, love him so much that your own welfare means nothing as long as you can do him some good. When that day comes, you will understand."

  "I hope I never feel like that," Rosina said bitterly. "If love makes a slave of a woman, then I hope I never feel it."

  "I pity you if you never know love."

  "If I never know love, I shall never know pain," Rosina said in a hard voice.

  "And you will never know glory," Miss Draycott told her. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to be quite alone."

  Her voice was no longer shaking, but firm and decided. Rosina had no choice but to do as she wished.

  In the doorway she stopped and looked back. Miss Draycott was still standing there, with her back to her.

  "Remember," Rosina said, "I am always your friend. I will do anything you wish."

  "Thank you."