103. She Wanted Love

by Barbara Cartland

  *

  On the tenth day of her visit Eleta had only just gone to bed when there was a huge crash in the sky and she realised that rain was pouring through her open window.

  She jumped out of bed and ran to shut the window and there were more crashes and flashes outside.

  It was then a little voice from the door that led into the boudoir murmured,

  “I am – frightened.”

  Eleta closed the window and answered,

  “So am I, Pepe. Jump into my bed and we will be frightened together.”

  Pepe ran across the room and slipped into the bed.

  Eleta joined her and, as soon as she came in next to her, Pepe moved towards her, hiding her face against her shoulder.

  Eleta’s arms went round her.

  “Don’t be frightened, Pepe. It’s only the naughty clouds fighting each other in the sky. They are like little boys and later the sun comes out and it is all forgotten.”

  “It frightens me – because it’s so noisy,” the child whispered. “But I am safe here with you.”

  Eleta’s arms tightened.

  “Absolutely safe. We must not be afraid because soon everything will be beautiful and quiet again.”

  “That sounds like a story – ”

  Eleta laughed.

  “In other words you are asking me to tell you one.”

  “Yes, please.”

  Pepe moved a little closer and Eleta soothed her,

  “You know that you ought to go to sleep. There is so much to do tomorrow, so I will just tell you a very short story about the angels looking after us.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I am sure,” Eleta began, “that your angel is just like you only she would not have such a long name.”

  “Then what is my angel called?” the child asked.

  “She is called ‘Pepe’, which your father called you when you were small and what I have been calling you.”

  “If my angel has a pretty name which is also mine, what is yours called?”

  Eleta hesitated for a moment and then she replied,

  “My real name is of course secret. If I tell you, you must be very careful to call me by it only when no one is listening, in case they talk and my stepfather finds me.”

  “I will be very very careful,” she promised.

  “Then it is ‘Eleta’.”

  “Oh, that’s a pretty name. So much prettier than saying ‘Miss Lawson’.”

  “That is a pretend name, but you must remember to use it in front of the servants and anyone else in the house.”

  She thought it extraordinary that apparently so few people called at Teringford Court and they had not heard anything from the Marquis since she had arrived here.

  “I will be very careful that no one shall take you away from me,” Pepe was saying.

  “You know I want to stay with you.”

  “Do you really and truly want to, Eleta?”

  “I love being here,” Eleta replied, “and I love being with you. In fact, Pepe, I love you very much.”

  Pepe moved a little closer.

  “And I love you too,” she sighed. “I do love you, Eleta, and you must never, never leave me.”

  “I will try not to and I am very grateful to you for being so kind to me.”

  “I love you, I love you,” Pepe repeated.

  Eleta kissed her and she stayed in her arms until she fell asleep.

  *

  The next morning, when they went downstairs to breakfast, the butler brought in a delicious dish of salmon cooked as only a Frenchman could do it.

  “His Lordship’s coming home today,” he said.

  Eleta stared at him, thinking that she could not have heard right.

  “His Lordship?” she repeated.

  The butler nodded.

  “They sent a runner, as we call them, from London to say His Lordship’ll be coming back alone and there’s to be no guests this weekend.”

  Pepe gave a little cry,

  “I hope Papa will not send us back to the nursery!”

  “I am sure he will not do that,” Eleta replied.

  At the same time she felt anxious and worried and the Marquis might upset Pepe and make her as difficult as she had apparently been with him on his other visits.

  “There was a long piece about his Lordship in the newspaper yesterday,” the butler was now saying. “I don’t know whether you saw it, Miss Lawson, but it says a great deal about this house and the treasures in it.”

  “I didn’t read the newspapers yesterday because we were so busy. But I do hope, if the house has been written about in the newspaper, that we will not attract burglars.”

  “Not much fear of that,” the butler replied. “We have two nightwatchmen in the house and there be a man in the stables and another in the garden during the night.”

  “I had no idea, but makes me feel safe.”

  “His Lordship’s seen to it and there’s enough locks and bolts on the house to keep an army at bay.”

  When they were alone, she said to Pepe,

  “I wonder what time your father will arrive?”

  “He usually comes in the afternoon. Then he hears how cross the Governess is and he gives me a lecture.”

  “Well, this time he will have a surprise,” Eleta said. “We must think how we can astound him with everything you can now do that he has never seen or heard before.”

  Pepe thought that this was a good idea.

  “We’ll give him such a surprise that he will want you to stay here for ever and ever, which is what I want.”

  “First you must show how pleased you are to see him. You run to him and say, ‘Daddy, Daddy, I am so glad to have you back’ and then you give him a big kiss.”

  “I don’t usually call him ‘Daddy’.”

  “It sounds more cosy and loving that ‘Papa’ and we have to make him realise that you are very different from the little girl he last saw.”

  “Do I look very different?” Pepe asked.

  “You do and I know you are happy, just as I am.”

  “Of course I am so happy when you tell me those wonderful stories and I am learning to play the piano.”

  “You also ride a big horse that your father has not seen and I am sure he will be proud of you.”

  “He may be angry and say I have to go back to my pony and be led on a leading rein,” Pepe replied.

  “I am sure you will not have to do that.”

  She thought unless the Marquis was blind, deaf and dumb, he could not help being astonished by the difference in his daughter.

  Eleta was quite convinced now on one thing.

  It was that Pepe was musical and in a very short time she would be able to play the piano far better than most girls of her age and it went without saying that she had inherited her father’s way with horses.

  She would, when she was older, be an outstanding rider, but the most important difference was that she was now a happy child.

  She was thrilled with everything they did together and then used her brain to put forward new ideas and new interests that had never been developed before.

  What was more, no one could help loving her.

  “Now we must play our game carefully, Pepe. If you think that your father will arrive about teatime or later, I think we should go riding this morning and then have a swim before luncheon.”

  “Yes, let’s do that,” Pepe agreed. “It will be very exciting for me and I will surprise Papa by showing him how well I can swim.”

  “We will show him that tomorrow,” Eleta said. “I think this afternoon we might stay in the music room for a while and then perhaps go and see if there are any new flowers out in the garden.”

  She was anxious that Pepe should be well-dressed and looking pretty when her father returned and so it would be a mistake to be too active after luncheon.

  They went for a ride taking the horses rather slower than usual because it was so hot.

  When they retur
ned to the house, they then hurried down to the lake.

  They quickly took off their clothes in the hut and put on their bathing dresses which were dry and clean.

  Pepe wore a cap over her hair, while Eleta pinned her fair curly hair on top of her head – it was so long that it hung when it was loose over her breasts, but she managed to keep it out of the water.

  Pepe plunged into the lake. She had been able to swim only a little when Eleta arrived, but now it came to her naturally and she swam about as if she was a little fish.

  Eleta was glad that she had been sensible enough to pack a very attractive bathing dress. She had bought it in France for when she stayed with one of her friends.

  It was the pale blue of her eyes and had, which the French had introduced, a short skirt from the waist nearly to her knees. It made her look very young and was also extremely becoming.

  She had a perfect figure and had caused a sensation when she appeared in it in France. The men present had complimented her on being a Goddess of the Sea.

  But there was no one to see her now except Pepe and it was glorious swimming in the cool water with the sun reflected on it.

  Eleta was just thinking that it was time for them to go back to the house for luncheon when a man appeared, walking over the lawn.

  For a moment she wondered who he was.

  Then Pepe, who had gone into the hut to take off her bathing dress, came out of the door in her petticoat.

  She was just about to say something to Eleta when she saw the man coming down to the water’s edge.

  For a moment she stared at him and then she gave a cry and ran towards him calling out,

  “Daddy, Daddy, you are back! It’s so lovely to see you!”

  As she reached the Marquis, he put out his hands and picked her up.

  To his surprise she put her arms around his neck, hugging him and kissing his cheek.

  *

  The Marquis had quite suddenly, as he often did, decided that London was boring and he wanted to be in the country.

  It was not only the heat but the fact that he had attended a large number of parties in the last few weeks.

  He had also decided that his affaire-de-coeur with the beautiful Countess of Westbridge was at an end as far as he was concerned.

  It was not that she was not as beautiful as she had been when he had first seen her or that she was in any way difficult or over-demanding.

  It was just because he found, as he inevitably did in all his affairs, that she had nothing new to offer him and he anticipated what she was about to say before she said it.

  ‘It is very extraordinary,’ he had often thought to himself, ‘that beautiful women have very little brain.’

  When they first attracted him, it was most usually because of something witty they had said or more often they had made it very clear that they desired him.

  If there was one thing he really disliked, it was the endless repetition of what had happened yesterday and the day before that.

  He was always seeking something different and so far with women he found that there was nothing new or different in any of them.

  They attracted him, he admitted, physically, but he found them, after a relatively short time, extremely dull in every other way.

  What was more, most of them had some irritating habits, like twisting their rings or repeating what he had just said and it was as if they changed the whole sense by their own interpretation of it.

  In the last few years he had found, when he was bored, it was easy to make an excuse to visit Paris, better still to travel to Scotland where he would be offered sport like fishing or shooting.

  This invariably would take his mind off what he found monotonous and dreary.

  Now it was summer and there was no question of sport and he therefore found what he enjoyed more than anything else was to swim in his own lake or to ride his own horses over his own broad acres.

  He always made up his mind very quickly.

  Having sent a messenger ahead on a fast horse, he left London as soon as he had finished breakfast and dealt with his voluminous correspondence.

  He could trust his efficient secretary to cope with the ordinary mail like bills, advertisements and those who thanked him for his hospitality.

  But there were also private letters, some of them scented, which only he could answer.

  Today, however, he had been able to leave rather quicker than usual.

  He was driving a new team of four that had been a recent purchase at Tattersalls and he thought it would be amusing to attempt to beat the record between his house in London and his house in the country.

  It demanded all his concentration and it was only as he turned in through the great iron gates and started up the drive that he recalled the difficulties he had encountered on his last visit with his daughter Priscilla.

  He had in fact been very angry and he had found that, because of her behaviour, two Governesses had left.

  He remembered he had dismissed some in the past as being incompetent and had also listened to several who had been extremely rude about his daughter’s demeanour.

  He was tired of London and rather listless and he hoped that there would not be any dramas to cope with at The Court.

  He almost prayed that he would not have to dismiss another Governess or be told by her in no uncertain terms why she was leaving.

  When he drew up his team outside the front door, he was aware that he had broken his own record.

  As the Head Groom came running from the stables followed by two other grooms, he remarked,

  “I have brought you something really worth having, Abbey. This are the finest team I have ever had.”

  “They certainly be fine to look at, my Lord.”

  “I thought you would think so, that is why I could not resist them, although I don’t mind telling you they cost me a pretty penny.”

  “But if you’ve broken the record, my Lord, then they be worth all you paid for ’em and a great deal more!”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “You are quite right, Abbey.”

  He went into the house to be greeted by the butler.

  “It’s very good to see your Lordship back,” he said. “We were beginning to think you’d forgotten us.”

  “No, I have not, Harris, and it’s wonderful to see so many flowers in the garden. I must certainly congratulate Greenhill on such a display.”

  “He was hoping your Lordship’d be pleased.”

  “Pleased, I really am delighted. Now where is her Ladyship?”

  “At the lake, my Lord, with the new Governess.”

  Harris, who had been at The Court ever since the Marquis was a small boy, was about to say what a success Miss Lawson was, then he thought it would be wise to let the Marquis find it out for himself.

  The difference in Lady Priscilla had, of course, not gone unnoticed by the rest of the staff.

  At first they had been somewhat quizzical about the alterations Miss Lawson had made, but now they had to admit that her Ladyship was a different child.

  All Harris said was,

  “Her Ladyship was expecting your Lordship to be here about teatime. It’ll be a nice surprise for her that your Lordship’s appeared so early.”

  “I hope so,” the Marquis said a little doubtfully.

  He was remembering that the last time he had come home his daughter had refused to leave the nursery.

  He had had to go up to her and there she had told him violently that she hated lessons and had no intention of doing them.

  He had reproved her for having sent away another Governess, but she had merely said that she hated them all, as much as she hated her lessons.

  The Marquis had been very angry and finally she had flounced into her bedroom and slammed the door. He had felt then that anything more he said would not only be unpleasant but useless and he had therefore left the house without saying goodbye to her.

  On the long drive back to London he had wondered what he
could do with his daughter in the future and it was obvious that no Governess could cope with her.

  He had no difficulty in deciding not to ask any of his relatives to come to his assistance, as it was obvious to him that they would not be any more successful than he was in trying to tell the child what to do.

  Also he disliked intensely having to admit he had failed in being the sort of father they expected him to be.

  ‘I ought to love my daughter and she ought to love me,’ he told himself.

  But he knew that they had only to be together for there soon to be a ferocious quarrel in which they both inevitably lost their tempers.

  ‘I can only hope,’ he said to himself, as he walked down towards the lake, ‘that things will be different from last time. If they are not, I will have to leave, beautiful though my home is at this time of year.’

  *

  Now, as the Marquis picked her up and she hugged him, he thought it could not be the same child who had flounced into her bedroom.

  “So you have been swimming,” he finally asked.

  “And I can swim now, Daddy,” Pepe said excitedly. “I can really swim, just like a fish!”

  “A rather big fish,” the Marquis smiled. “You must be careful you are not caught!”

  Pepe laughed.

  “There is no fisherman to catch me here and if there was I would dive under the water and he’d not see me!”

  The Marquis thought that this was a very different conversation from any they had had in the past.

  Then he looked down to the lake and saw that, as he expected, Pepe had not been alone.

  The sun was glinting on Eleta’s hair, turning it to gold.

  She was not at the moment swimming, but she was still in the water watching Pepe greet her father.

  For a moment the Marquis thought that he must be dreaming.

  He had never seen anyone quite so lovely.

  He could only think for one absurd moment that she was a mermaid who was there by mistake or maybe she was just an apparition that emanated from his imagination.

  Then, as Eleta started to swim slowly towards the hut, he realised that she was indeed real and human, but he thought she was far too lovely to be anything but a visitor.

  Pepe still had her arm round his neck.

  “How did you get her so early, Daddy?”