Beauty or Brains

by Barbara Cartland

  Sir John, the thwarted bridegroom, was being very brave at the Reception at which the bride was a noticeable absentee.

  ‘I am sure that my fiancée will be returning as soon as she can,’ he said, ‘but, of course, she may wish to stay until her late Governess’s funeral before we can announce our marriage for the second time.’

  The most disappointed guests at the wedding party were the children who lived in the village and who had been promised fireworks when the bride and bridegroom departed for their honeymoon.

  Nevertheless the fireworks will keep and they will doubtless be flying in the sky when the marriage is actually performed.”

  Iona read the newspaper twice and looked at the rather bad photograph of herself that had been taken on a Racecourse.

  Then she knew that it would be a great mistake for anyone in the house to read it, even though they might not associate her with the lost bride.

  She therefore burnt the newspaper and hoped that the same story did not appear in other London newspapers.

  ‘It would be most unhelpful for anyone to find out who I am,’ she thought, ‘as they might then think it their business to communicate with my family or with John.’

  When she thought of him, she did not exactly feel unhappy because she had lost him, but rather upset that she had been deceived into believing he really loved her and was not influenced by her riches.

  They had so often talked over what they would do together and the places they would visit and she had felt that it would be fantastic to see the world with him.

  Now she was in the position of either having to find another husband or become an old maid at The Hall and have to content herself with looking after the children of her pushy relations rather than her own.

  Then she remembered that the world was still at her feet and that she must try and enjoy herself despite all that had happened and somehow find someone she really liked to travel with.

  ‘I will never fall in love again,’ she now told herself firmly, ‘unless I am absolutely and completely sure that the man in question does not need my money more than he needs me. In fact I will not even give him a second glance unless he is a millionaire!’

  Then she laughed at herself.

  There really was no use being too serious about it.

  She was wise enough to realise that she was very lucky at having found out before she was married that John was in love with Mary, rather than when the ring was on her finger and there was no possible chance of her walking away from what promised to be a most unhappy marriage.

  Because she did not want to think of John or The Hall, she concentrated on cooking the most inviting dishes for the Earl, thinking that her father’s French chef would be intensely proud of her.

  However, because she did not want anyone in the house to find out who she was, she carefully scrutinised every newspaper as it was delivered to The Court.

  She was well aware that Newman and his wife were delighted that she was there, not just because she paid them but because they had never known their employer to be in such a good temper.

  “He just hasn’t yelled at anyone since you’ve been here,” Newman said, “and, as it always upsets the Missus, you can be sure I’m hopin’ you’ll stay and not go rushin’ off with that pair of fancy ponies you brought with you.”

  “I have no plans to leave at the moment,” Iona told him. “I enjoy cooking for his Lordship just as much as he enjoys eating what I have cooked for him.”

  “There be no doubt about that,” Newman replied. “And he looks a lot better than he did when you arrived.”

  He lowered his voice before he added,

  “Of course he’s no idea you be payin’ for the things as comes from the village. I’ve told Mr. Hopkins and my Missus to be careful what they says in front of him.”

  “I don’t like to think that I am deceiving him, but I know he would be upset if he found that I was spending my own money when he ought to be paying me for being his cook.”

  “We can only hope that things run as smoothly as they be doin’ since you’ve come here,” Newman remarked. “And the Missus is beginning to look her old self. She’s even laughin’ which I’ve not heard her do for months.”

  Iona thought that they were the nicest couple she had ever come across.

  Somehow, when she did leave here, she must try to provide them with some money or they would be down and depressed again as they had been when she first arrived.

  *

  The next day the Earl wanted her to ride with him.

  After they had inspected her ponies, he suggested, as they were obviously so much better than his, that they should ride them.

  “I think that we ought to give yours a chance,” Iona said. “Your groom was complaining to me only yesterday they were not having enough exercise.”

  “Very well,” the Earl replied. “But we must not neglect yours as they are such a delightful pair.”

  Iona, thinking he would go on to say how valuable they were, changed the subject, hoping he would forget about her ponies when he was busy with his own horses.

  They rode into the woods and inspected the farms.

  “I thought of searching the farms and woods for my uncle’s money,” the Earl said, “but I was almost sure he would not go far away with his spoils.”

  He laughed as he went on,

  “I have always been told that misers like to keep their money within their grasp. In fact, I was told of one man who slept on his money and another who hung it from the ceiling in a bag, so that he could keep his eye on it!”

  “I prefer your chandeliers to that,” Iona smiled.

  “It is what I thought myself, but you do realise that while I am out enjoying myself with you, I have to go on searching for the fortune my uncle has hidden somewhere.”

  “I still think that if it is anywhere it would be in the house,” Iona said. “I feel sure you will find it eventually and it’s silly to upset yourself every time you fail.”

  She felt rather brave in saying this, but she recalled how upset everyone was before she arrived.

  “You are making me feel ashamed of myself,” the Earl said. “But there is nothing more frustrating than to have one’s hopes raised when one was almost certain one was in at the kill.”

  “You must look on it as a game,” Iona suggested, “a game that you can enjoy because it is so stimulating.”

  “You certainly encourage me, Miss Lang, and now, as I wish to assert myself, I will race you to that wood.”

  He won easily and Iona recognised that he was a skilled horseman and her father would have admired him.

  Newman was waiting for them when they returned to the house.

  When the Earl went ahead to take their whips to the cloakroom where they were kept, he turned to Iona,

  “There be some strange people in the village, I’m told, wantin’ to know who you were and what you be doin’ up here at The Court.”

  Iona was still.

  “I-I hope no one – told them,” she stammered.

  “They asked Mr. Hopkins, but he told them to mind their own business, but I thinks I ought to tell you. Mr. Hopkins thinks they were relieved you were at The Court.”

  Iona felt herself shiver.

  If this meant that the family had found out where she was, they would instantly insist that she went home.

  They would be horrified that she was staying with the Earl of Woodbridge unchaperoned and acting, for some reason they would never understand, the part of a servant.

  Yet it seemed strange that they had found out where she had gone and anyway she could scarcely believe that John would have encouraged them to look for her.

  ‘If they were told that the woman at The Court is the cook to his Lordship, they will certainly not think it is me,’ she reflected.

  She was however worried.

  The Earl praised the dinner she had cooked for him and insisted that she went to the music room afterwards as she had said she was sure
that the piano wanted tuning.

  “I want to find out if you play as well as you cook,” he grinned.

  “You are asking too much, my Lord,” Iona replied. “One talent is quite enough for one person and, if you force me to play the piano, I will deliberately play badly as I am sure the average cook would do.”

  “You are not an average cook and I think, when I look at you, you have every talent in the encyclopaedia.”

  “You are flattering me,” she laughed, “but, as it is something I enjoy, please go on!”

  Iona played the piano until it was time to go to bed.

  “I have enjoyed this evening almost as much as I enjoyed our ride this morning,” the Earl told her. “You make me forget my poverty and the fact that the house is falling down on my head.”

  “It has not fallen yet, my Lord. I promise you that we will find something to keep it standing.”

  “Are you speaking as a Scot?” the Earl asked.

  Iona nodded.

  “Yes, I am using ‘fey’ to tell you what I believe.”

  “I am beginning to believe it, too,” he answered.

  As he spoke, he looked into Iona’s eyes.

  She felt a strange sensation in her breast.

  So much so that she turned around and then walked quickly towards the door.

  “Goodnight, my Lord,” she said. “I am now going to bed to think out something new to cook for you that you have never eaten before.”

  “I shall lie awake all night wondering what it will be!”

  Iona laughed as she ran up the stairs to her room.

  She tried not to look at the dust on the cabinets as she passed them, but it was a joy to find that, because Mrs. Newman looked after her room, everything was becoming cleaner and tidier every day.

  ‘I am very lucky,’ she thought as she undressed. ‘I might well have been going from one ghastly Posting inn to another instead of which I am sleeping as if I was a Queen under a golden canopy.’

  Then, as she opened the top drawer of her dressing table to find her hairbrush, she discovered that lying beside it, Mrs. Newman had placed the pistol that had come from the gun room.

  It seemed funny to see the two objects there neatly arranged by Mrs. Newman’s hand.

  Iona took out the pistol and thought that from the way it was made and its beautiful design it could only have come from Russia.

  She wondered if it had a history and wished it could talk.

  ‘I want to go to Russia,’ she mused, ‘and see the lovely Palaces of St. Petersburg.’

  Then she told herself that she was being greedy and most people would be very thrilled to see the magnificent paintings in the Picture Gallery here at Woodbridge Court.

  She was brushing her hair as her mother had always told her to do when she heard a sound outside the window.

  It seemed as if there was something scraping on the ground and she wondered what it could be.

  She blew out the candles, walked to the window and drew back the curtains.

  Outside the moon was moving slowly up the sky and, although it was too dark to see very clearly, she could see the fountain on the lawn.

  Everything seemed very still.

  Once again she heard a sound and looked around.

  It was then she gave a sudden start for against the window, which she knew was that of the Picture Gallery, there was something dark that she was sure was a ladder.

  It had certainly not been there yesterday when she had explored the garden.

  It flashed through her mind that the people making those enquiries in the village had not been interested in her personally.

  But perhaps they had wanted to know the number of people living at the The Court, who might prevent them from stealing one of the superb and valuable paintings.

  ‘Just what could be a greater treasure,’ she thought, ‘than the pictures in the Gallery.’

  It was then that she saw, although it was difficult to make out anything very clearly, someone moving round the side of the house.

  She realised that there were two men and now she was almost certain that they were robbers.

  If they had come to take away the treasures of the house, she would have to prevent them from doing so.

  She moved back into her room and began to run towards the door.

  Then she remembered the pistol in the drawer of her dressing table.

  She pulled it open quickly and took it out.

  She saw that the pistol was loaded and did not wait, but held it in one hand as she opened the bedroom door.

  She intended to rush down the passage to the Earl.

  Then another idea came to her.

  If she was able to reach the Picture Gallery before the robbers came through the window, she could blow the cornet the Earl had shown her and the noise would notify the village that the robbers were here and come to help.

  She ran down to the lower floor and then along the passage to the Gallery.

  She had not put on her bedroom slippers and her bare feet made no sound on the carpet.

  She opened the door of the Gallery very gently.

  Then she realised that, although the men might be outside, they had not yet been able to force their way in.

  It was a blessing that the fireplace was nearer to the door than it was to the window.

  She reached it making no sound.

  Then, snatching up the cornet, she forced her way over the hearth and crept behind the large fireplace.

  As she expected, she would feel with her hands the hole in the wall through which she must blow the cornet to warn the village of the danger that The Court was in.

  She had moved so quickly that for the moment she was breathless.

  Then she put the cornet to her lips and blew.

  The noise it gave out was extraordinary.

  It was much louder than she expected and seemed to be multiplied at the top with something she could not see clearly.

  The sound seemed to vibrate and vibrate again in the air.

  She then felt what she thought were pieces of mud falling down on her shoulders.

  She went on blowing until she was out of breath.

  Then moving slowly back, she peeped out into the Picture Gallery before she emerged.

  To her relief the window was still not open and she guessed that no one had climbed the ladder outside because the noise of the cornet had scared them.

  Now she must go and tell the Earl why she had blown the cornet.

  She ran through the Gallery and into the passage where it joined the State rooms with the Earl at the end in the Master suite.

  She ran towards it and was then aware that the door was open.

  She now guessed that the Earl must have heard the sound of the cornet and gone to see what was happening.

  She was not mistaken.

  When she reached the stairs, she saw the Earl at the bottom and heard the front door being forced open.

  While Iona waited at the top of the stairs, two men came in through the door.

  She saw that they were roughly dressed and they were carrying heavy iron rods clearly intending to smash open anything that was locked.

  “Who are you and what are you doing?” she heard the Earl demand of them angrily.

  The men turned towards him obviously surprised at hearing him rather than seeing him in the darkness.

  “You have no right to break into my house,” the Earl shouted at them furiously.

  Without replying the man next to him raised the heavy club he held in his hand and brought it down on the Earl’s shoulders.

  The Earl then staggered and fell backwards onto the ground.

  Iona, without really thinking, but terrified of what they had done to him, raised the pistol, which was still in her hand, and then fired twice at the intruders.

  She must have shot one of the intruders through the forehead because he fell instantly backwards onto the floor.

  The other man then turned, ran out of the house a
nd disappeared.

  It was then that Newman, wearing only his dressing gown over his nightshirt, came running from below stairs, as Iona began to hurry down as quickly as she could.

  The Earl was lying on the staircase, his feet on the floor and his body thrown back on the lower stairs.

  By the time she reached him, Newman was bending over him and the Earl was absolutely still.

  “He hit him,” Iona cried, “and he fell directly so he must have hurt him dreadfully.”

  “His Lordship’s unconscious,” Newman said. “We must get him up to his bedroom.”

  Iona looked towards the door, which was open, but there was no sign of anyone outside.

  “It was the robbers,” she said, “and they were going to climb up a ladder into the Picture Gallery.”

  “So it’s you who blew the cornet,” Newman said.

  “His Lordship showed me how to do it some days ago,” Iona replied, “and I knew it would bring people from the village to help us.”

  “We’ll certainly need them,” Newman muttered, looking down at the Earl.

  It was, however, so difficult to see anything in the darkness.

  “I’ll light a candle,” Newman said, “and as soon as someone comes we’ll get his Lordship up to bed.”

  Iona was feeling his forehead and gently running her hands down the side of his face.

  She could hardly believe that these robbers could have broken their way into the house so easily.

  More importantly they had knocked down the Earl almost before she was able to alert anyone to the danger that threatened The Court.

  While Newman was lighting the candles, a groom came running in through the open door.

  Seeing Iona he asked,

  “What’s been ’appening? I ’ears the trumpet callin’ and came ’ere as fast as I could.”

  “Robbers have hit his Lordship and he is, I think, unconscious,” Iona told him. “Newman wants us to get him back to his bed. Do you think you can carry him?”

  “I can certainly ’elp Mr. Newman to do so,” the groom answered.

  Having lit more candles Newman suggested,

  “Let’s take his Lordship up the stairs and send for the doctor.”

  “I’ll fetch ’im in a carriage,” the groom offered.