The Island of Love (Camfield Series No. 15)

by Barbara Cartland

  There were several men walking round the ship and even they looked a little ‘green about the gills,’ but there were no women.

  Lydia, because she never had time to think about herself, was not aware that they looked at her in surprise and then in admiration as she started to walk along the Deck.

  Despite the waves that occasionally splashed over the side and the wind which seemed to be howling overhead like a banshee, the sea looked magnificent with white crested waves which reminded her of the fairy stories she had read as a child.

  She had been told then that the waves were the horses of the Princes of the sea, and she believed in them as she believed in mermaids and the water-nymphs who lurked in streams and lakes and could be seen resting on the banks only at dawn and dusk.

  She was thinking of this when she heard somebody beside her say:

  “You are very adventurous, Miss Westbury! I did not expect to find you braving the weather. But perhaps you are an experienced sailor?”

  Lydia turned her head to find the Earl was standing beside her and she replied:

  “How could anything be so magnificent? I am expecting Neptune at any moment to rise up in all his majesty, his trident in his hand.”

  The Earl laughed.

  “I am afraid I cannot offer you anything so Royal until we reach Hawaii, but you will be meeting the richest man in America when you get to New York.”

  “Do you mean Mr. Vanderbilt?” Lydia enquired.

  “Of course, but I am surprised you should be aware of whom I meant.”

  Lydia thought it was slightly insulting that he should think her so ignorant.

  Then she knew that had he been talking to Heloise she would not have known the name of any Americans, even the President.

  “I shall certainly be interested in meeting Mr. Vanderbilt,” she said, “if I have the opportunity.”

  She added without thinking something which had been in her mind ever since they had started the journey.

  “There is something I want to say to Your Lordship.”

  “What is it?” the Earl asked.

  “Just because I am Heloise’s sister,” she said, “you do not have to include me in your social engagements.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it is something that does not happen at home. I have only come with Heloise because you would not allow her to bring a lady’s-maid with her.”

  The Earl’s eyes were on her face as he said:

  “I gather from what you have said and from the fact that I have never seen you when I have called at your father’s house, that you keep in the background. Why?”

  Too late, Lydia wished she had not embarked on this conversation, but she had not expected him to ask questions.

  Because there seemed to be no reason not to tell him the truth, she replied:

  “I am not social like Heloise, and I am actually a disappointment.”

  “Disappointment?” the Earl asked in surprise. Again Lydia felt this would have been better left unsaid, but he seemed to magnetise words out of her mouth that she had not intended to say.

  Again she told the truth.

  “Papa naturally wanted me to be a boy,” she said, “and although Heloise’s beauty makes up for her being the wrong sex. I can offer no such compensation.”

  The Earl put back his head and laughed.

  “You certainly say some very unusual things. Miss Westbury,” he said. “Although I can understand your father's disappointment at not having a son. I am sure you compensate him in many other ways.”

  Lydia shook her head.

  “Not really.” she said, “but I am always hoping that he will meet a charming lady whom he will marry and who will make up for my deficiency.”

  “You really hope your father will marry again?”

  “Why not? He is still quite a young man and he will be lonely when Heloise is married.”

  “He will still have you!”

  Lydia did not speak but merely looked out to sea and as if her silence was more eloquent than words the Earl said:

  “I feel you are asking me to help you, and I must admit it is the first time in my life that I have ever been asked to find a wife for a man other than myself.”

  Lydia smiled.

  “Where you are concerned. My Lord, it must be quite a relief to stop being pestered.”

  “You are right,” the Earl agreed. “I have been ‘pestered’ as you call it and for so long that I can hardly believe I will suffer it no longer.”

  Lydia drew in her breath. Then she said:

  “Perhaps it is remiss of me not before this to have wished you every happiness.”

  “Your sister is very beautiful!”

  “I think it would be impossible to find anybody more beautiful!” Lydia agreed.

  It flashed through her mind as she spoke that Lydia and the Duchess of Dorchester were very alike, and she had almost added that she knew Heloise was the type the Earl admired.

  Then to her astonishment he said as if he read her thoughts:

  “You are right, but there are of course, exceptions to every rule.”

  She turned again to look at him, her eyes very wide.

  “How could you know what I was thinking?”

  “I have just asked myself the same question.” Lydia looked down.

  “It is ... something you must ... not do.”

  “But suppose I cannot help it?”

  “Then, as I have already said, My Lord, you need not concern yourself with me. I am used to being unnoticed, and perhaps now I should go below. Heloise may want me.”

  She would have walked away from him but the Earl said:

  “It is always a mistake to run away from the unexpected or to be afraid.”

  Lydia held onto the ship’s rail with both hands.

  “I am not afraid,” she said in a low voice.

  “I think that is untrue,” the Earl replied. “We are all a little afraid of the unknown, but it could be very exciting and very enjoyable to explore and find out what for the moment we cannot completely understand.”

  She thought he was still talking of the way he had been able to read her thoughts.

  There were a million questions she wanted to ask him and she knew that what was happening now was the most fascinating experience of her whole life.

  She knew she ought to make some excuse to leave him, for both Heloise and her father would disapprove of what they would think of as her monopolising the Earl, but she could not bring herself to go.

  She was afraid that once they reached New York and Heloise was herself again she might never have another chance of talking to him.

  “You said you had seen me in the hunting-field,” he said. “Do you enjoy hunting?”

  “It is what I look forward to as the only exciting thing which ever happens to me,” Lydia replied.

  “I think you should add to that: ‘Up until now,’ ” the Earl remarked.

  “Apart from the journey, do you think there are other exciting things for me to discover?” Lydia asked.

  “But of course!” he replied. “You are very young, and I am sure you have not really begun to live.”

  That was true, Lydia thought.

  When she remembered her life at home and the household duties that occupied her time, the books that were her only companions, she knew exactly what the Earl meant and it was something she had missed so far.

  “If nothing else ever happens in the future,” she said impulsively, “I shall at least have this to remember.”

  She was looking at the sea, but she knew it was not only the voyage or the place they were going to that she would remember, but being with the Earl.

  “Then enjoy every moment of it,” he said quietly, “and do not let mistaken ideas of duty or pride prevent you from reaching out towards your dream.”

  She was so surprised at what he said and the way he spoke that she turned to look at him.

  He was nearer than she expected and his eyes wer
e looking into hers.

  For a moment they just looked at each other. Then as the spray from a wave breaking against the side of the ship made them both stiffen Lydia came back to reality.

  Without saying anything she walked away and left the Earl alone at the railing.

  It was not until two days before they were due to reach New York that Heloise felt well enough to leave her bed.

  This had meant that Lydia had not been able to take her meals in the Dining-Room but had them brought to Heloise’s cabin by the stewards.

  She was disappointed because never again had she had a conversation with the Earl.

  Although she had hoped to see him when she went on the Promenade Deck very early in the morning before Heloise was awake, and sometimes in the afternoons when she was asleep, he was never there.

  She wondered if she had offended him, or even shocked him, by the way she had talked so openly.

  And yet she knew every word was something that she would remember and recite over and over again to herself when she was alone.

  Sir Robert told her that the Earl had been invited up onto the bridge by the Captain and as he was a keen yachtsman he was enjoying watching them navigate the Liner.

  She knew also that the Earl exercised regularly in the Gymnasium, which was a new facility in the ship.

  Now they were in smoother waters he played Deck-Tennis with some of the other passengers, not surprisingly being so good at it that he always emerged the victor.

  “We have some excellent Bridge in the evening,” Sir Robert said, “which would certainly not amuse you girls. But there is a Band, and one or two of the passengers have been well enough to dance.”

  As he said this Heloise roused herself from the lethargy she had been in ever since she had been seasick.

  “Are you telling me, Papa, that Hunter is dancing with other women?”

  “No, of course not,” Sir Robert said, “but I am sure it is something he would want to do if you would take the trouble to get up and dress!”

  “I do not like the sea!” Heloise said plaintively.

  “It is something you will have to get used to,” Sir Robert replied. “Your future husband is very pleased with his new yacht, so there is every likelihood of his visiting the Mediterranean later on in the summer.” He walked out of the cabin as he spoke and Heloise asked Lydia:

  “Why did you not tell me that they were dancing?”

  “How would I know that?” Lydia countered. “I have been here with you, as you well know!”

  “I shall come down to dinner tonight,” Heloise decided.

  “I am quite certain you will no longer feel sick,” Lydia said, “and you could have got up yesterday or even the day before if you had wished to. The Doctor says that even people who are very sea-sick usually recover after two or three days.”

  “It is your fault for not persuading me,” Heloise said crossly.

  She went down to dinner the last two nights but Lydia stayed in her cabin.

  She wanted desperately to see the Earl again.

  Yet because he now meant so much more to her than he had before she had met him, she knew it would hurt her to watch him paying court to Heloise.

  He was doubtless looking at her with the admiration that always filled every man’s eyes when they looked at her sister’s beautiful face.

  “I cannot bear it!” Lydia told herself, then was ashamed that she could be so foolish.

  When the liner docked in New York, not only were they met by the Couriers arranged by the Earl, but also Mr. Vanderbilt had sent his secretary with two carriages to convey them to his house where they were to stay.

  Lydia had not realised until now that they were to be his guests and she was surprised that her father had not mentioned it to her.

  However she had had few private conversations with him except when he came to see Heloise.

  Now she tried to remember all she had heard about the Vanderbilts and their millions.

  She found it fascinating to think that for the first time in her life she was meeting people she had only read about in the newspapers and never thought she would actually see in the flesh.

  Vaguely at the back of her mind she remembered reading of the famous Commodore, the Railroad King of America who had built up a huge fortune.

  He had the vision of linking the Atlantic and the Pacific by his Railroads.

  Now he was dead, but his son who had inherited his great wealth was to be their host.

  “Vanderbilt certainly does things in style!” Sir Robert said to the Earl as they drove in an extremely comfortable carriage drawn by four horses, away from the dock.

  “Wait until you see his house!” the Earl replied.

  “Is it very unusual?” Sir Robert asked.

  “After his father the Commodore died in 1877,” the Earl replied, “William Henry, the President of the New York Central, realised he was the richest man in the world and decided to build himself a Royal Palace.”

  Sir Robert laughed and the Earl went on:

  “His designers suggested building it of marble, as the highest expression of power, but Vanderbilt was afraid of marble and believed evil eyes dwelt in its cool shine.”

  Sir Robert looked surprised, but Lydia was listening intently.

  “He was superstitious,” the Earl went on, “and with reason since two millionaires, one of them an Astor, died soon after their mansions of marble had been built.”

  “How extraordinary!” Sir Robert exclaimed. “So what did Vanderbilt choose?”

  “He ordered instead three massive brownstone .houses,” the Earl explained, “one for himself, and one for each of his two daughters.”

  By the time they reached the brownstone house Lydia was filled with curiosity as to what it would be like.

  She had expected something on the same lines as the grand houses in Park Lane, one of which belonged to the Earl.

  Instead she found a conglomeration of priceless treasures put together like a patchwork of opulence which gave them a nightmare quality.

  The house itself was overwhelming with doorways as majestic as triumphal arches and gilded ceilings curved like sections of Egyptian Mummy cases.

  On the floors were rugs smothering rugs, on the walls pictures almost overlapping pictures, and every bit of space in the house covered with lamps, vases, figurines, objets d’art of every sort and description.

  Each piece worth a fortune, was eclipsed by the next piece, until it was impossible to look at and admire anything without being distracted by something else.

  It was perhaps because their hostess, Mrs. William Vanderbilt, was as overwhelming as the house that the Earl decided they should not stay more than one night, but would leave the next day for San Francisco.

  Mrs. Vanderbilt was disappointed, to put it mildly.

  She was socially wildly ambitious, an energetic unhappily married woman who had no other outlet to distract her.

  She had obviously looked forward to presenting the Earl to the other social climbers in New York and had arranged not only a huge dinner-party for the night they arrived, but also a Fancy-dress Ball the night after.

  Heloise was disappointed but the Earl was adamant.

  “If there is one thing which will not wait for us,” he said, “it is the King’s Coronation!”

  Even Mrs. Vanderbilt had to agree to this.

  She had entertained King Kalakaua when he had been the first Monarch ever to dazzle America, and she played with the idea of accompanying them to Honolulu.

  Fortunately the Earl with great tact was able to dissuade her by saying that as she had not received an invitation to the Coronation, it might, if she turned up unexpectedly, be embarrassing.

  When they left the overwhelming, over-decorated Vanderbilt house to drive to Grand Central Station, Lydia knew that both the Earl and her father heaved a sigh of relief.

  “It is like having a surfeit of pate de foie gras!” Sir Robert remarked dryly.

  “I agree w
ith you,” the Earl said, “but they are exceedingly kind and generous people, and we have been lent for our journey the Commodore’s own private Rail-Road Car which is known as The Duchess.”

  “I am sure we will find the name is a very appropriate one!” Sir Robert remarked.

  He was right in his assumption. The Rail-Road Car was far larger, more elaborate and ornate than the one owned by the Earl.

  There were four bedrooms, a Drawing-Room with chairs that were so comfortable that sitting down felt like sinking into a cloud.

  Everything was upholstered in the richest damask and the carpets on the floor were so thick that their feet seemed to sink down into them.

  To Lydia it was as fascinating as being in an elaborate dolls’-house.

  She explored the whole car, admired the kitchen, and even peeped into the rooms which the servants who travelled with them occupied, sleeping in bunk-beds arranged one above the other. The Earl’s valet and her father’s were in the next coach.

  “It is quite fascinating!” she exclaimed.

  Heloise sinking into a comfortable chair merely said:

  “I hope it does not rock, or I shall feel as if I am still at sea!”

  “Sit in the center and not above the wheels,” Lydia said, “and you will see the magnificent countryside through which we will be passing. Think of it, Heloise! We shall actually see the Rocky Mountains!”

  Heloise did not bother to answer, but merely looked apathetic until the Earl sat down beside her.

  Then she flirted with him very prettily so that Lydia felt she could slip away into the background and sit at the window looking out, determined to miss nothing.

  And yet all the time she was watching the scenery she could not help being conscious that the Earl was not far away from her.

  When she was alone in her comfortable bed she found herself thinking about him and going over once again the conversation they had had aboard ship.

  ‘Perhaps I shall have another chance to talk to him alone,’ she thought.

  She knew it was going to be difficult when Heloise was always there and angry if she asserted herself in any way or even talked when she should have remained silent.