An Introduction to the Pink Collection

by Barbara Cartland

  “But you understood what I was saying?”

  “Yes. I would have been trapped. I can see it now, but then everything was strangely foggy. I don’t understand it.”

  “He was weaving wicked spells around you,” said Rena.

  “That was exactly how it felt. All the time he was talking I knew there was something wrong, but I couldn’t see what it was because my mind seemed to be full of cobwebs. It was as though he had mesmerised me. But then you came in and blew the cobwebs away.”

  He grinned. “You were brilliant. You sounded like the silliest woman in the world, not at all like my Rena.”

  She smiled. “Sometimes it’s easier to say things if people think you’re too stupid to be taken seriously. I didn’t want to denounce him openly as a scoundrel in case you wanted to go along with his plan.”

  “You think I’d do that?”

  “You need money.”

  “And you expect me to marry for it?”

  “I expect you to remember that the village is relying on you,” she said quietly. “But I’m glad you’re not turning to Wyngate. He’s evil.”

  “Yes, I felt that force in him too. But good vanquished evil.” He gave her a tender look.

  “For the moment,” she said in a brooding voice. “But he will come back. He isn’t going to give up.”

  She would have liked to tell him that Matilda had another lover, and would fight the marriage as strongly as they. But she had given Matilda her word not to speak of Cecil, so she contented herself with saying,

  “Matilda may give him a shock. She isn’t as docile as he thinks. She’s very much his daughter. She told me that twice, and it’s true.”

  “Did she tell you anything else?”

  “Nothing that I can repeat. But we’re on the same side. Let’s go and have some tea.”

  In the kitchen they ate the cakes she had prepared and she said, “Whatever possessed you to invent that story about my being your married cousin?”

  “I was trying to be helpful,” he said, aggrieved. “You were so worried about your reputation.”

  “But everyone knows me in this village. They know my name’s Colwell because of my father, not my non-existent husband. Matilda didn’t believe a word of it. And neither did he, I shouldn’t think.”

  “Hang him and what he thinks! I’m sorry. That’s just not the sort of thing I’m very good at.”

  “You’re more of a man of action,” she said, smiling and forgiving him.

  “Definitely. When it comes to words I just tie myself in knots.”

  “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I think we should go out tonight, looking for coins. There’s going to be a full moon, and you need to know your exact position. You might be a millionaire without knowing it. John?”

  He was staring into space, but he came back with a start.

  “Sorry, yes we’ll go out tonight.”

  “You were in a dream world. Wyngate didn’t really mesmerise you, did he?”

  “No, but I was trying to think where I’ve seen him before.”

  “In India.”

  “No, before that. He reminds me of someone.”

  “Probably a picture of the devil,” Rena said tartly.

  “No, it’s a real person – if only I could think who it is.”

  “Don’t dwell on it,” she advised. “The worst thing you can do is brood about that man. Don’t let him into your mind, because once he’s in there, you’ll never get him out.”

  “I’ve never heard you speak like that before,” John said. “It’s as though you were looking into another world.”

  “I suppose I am. I’m looking into hell, and I see him there. He belongs there, and he’ll take us all with him if we give him the chance.”

  “Then we won’t,” John assured her fervently. “Now stop work and go and take some rest, for we have a busy night ahead.”

  *

  As Rena had said there was a full moon that night, but by eleven o’clock the sky was full of storm clouds and a sharp wind was getting up.

  “Would you rather leave it until tomorrow?” John asked. “I don’t think that would be safe. And who needs a moon? We’ll take a lamp.”

  Armed with the lamp and pulling their cloaks about them they left the house and made their way through the windy garden. Moving cautiously, they crossed the old bridge over the stream, and slipped into the woods.

  The wind seemed to grow fiercer every moment, and it was a relief to get among the trees, which offered some protection. At the same time the howling through the leaves and branches created an eerie effect.

  “I shall be glad to get back,” said John. “This is too much like a storm at sea for my liking.”

  As if in agreement there was a flash of lightning, soon followed by a distant roar of thunder.

  “Let’s get this finished quickly before the rain comes,” John said.

  Hand in hand they made their way between the swaying trees, until at last they saw the cross, monumental and impressive in the gloom. At that moment there was another flash of lightning, illuminating the cross that reared up before them, seeming to tower high into the sky. Then it was plunged back into darkness.

  John had brought a large knife, and while Rena held the lamp, he used this to dig into the ground. When he’d loosened some earth he plunged his hands in, feeling frantically about, then pulling the loose earth aside. She brought the lamp closer, while they both desperately sought the gleam of gold.

  But no yellow shone through the gloom.

  John groaned aloud and plunged his hands back into the earth.

  “There has to be something,” he said. “There has to be – what’s this?”

  “Have you found anything?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think it’s anything much.”

  He brought out his hand and raised it to the lamp, so that she could see a small, leather purse. Opening it, he showed her another coin.

  And I think there’s another one in there,” he said. “But that’s all.”

  They searched a little longer, but found nothing else.

  “Well, at least you gained something,” she said, trying to cheer him. “It was worth trying.”

  “What did you say?” he shouted, getting to his feet and trying to make himself heard over the wind.

  She raised her voice and repeated the words, also shouting over the wind.

  “Let’s go home,” he yelled.

  “Yes, let’s.”

  In that moment the lightning split the sky again, seeming to streak down to earth, and there, in a narrow space between the trees, she saw Wyngate.

  She caught her breath at the sight of that wicked, brooding presence, standing so terribly still. Then there was darkness again, followed by a clap of thunder so monstrous that it was as though the earth had split in two.

  “What is it?” John asked when he could speak.

  “Nothing, I – I thought I saw him – over there.”

  Another flash of lightning lit up the space.

  It was empty.

  “Rena, you’re getting him on the brain. You were the one who said we shouldn’t do that.”

  “Yes It must have been my imagination,” she said, dazed. “Of course.”

  “Come along.”

  He grasped her arm and guided her firmly away. In a few minutes they were out of the wood, battling across the open space to the sanctuary of the house.

  Never had the kitchen seemed so welcoming. They slammed the door behind them, drew the curtains and huddled over the range, which still had some warmth.

  “Tea,” she said, filling the kettle.

  “My poor girl! Are you all right? It’s not like you to have hallucinations.”

  “I know, but I think you’re right. I’m letting my mind dwell on him, and I mustn’t. Oh John, what did we find? Do look.”

  He took out the coin which he had thrust into his pocket, then felt around in the purse and took out another one. They were the same as th
e others.

  “They might be so valuable that these few are enough,” he said hopefully.

  But they both knew it was a forlorn hope.

  “How do we find out?” she asked.

  “I told you I came back from the tavern the other night to write letters. One was to an old friend in London. He’s a retired clergyman, and also a very learned historian, with a great knowledge of antiques. I met him when I was a young midshipman in the Navy.”

  John reddened before he added, “He got me out of a bit of trouble. All my own fault.”

  “I’m sure you were a demon,” Rena laughed.

  He nodded. “I wasn’t the best behaved lad in the world. Anyway, I wrote to the Reverend Adolphus Tandy. I described the coins as well as I could, hoping that he might write back to tell me what they were. We shall just have to wait for his reply.”

  He was drowned out again by a violent crack of thunder overhead, followed by the sound of rain pounding down.

  There seemed nothing for it but to go to bed and hope for better weather in the morning.

  *

  Rena woke to a drenched world. During the night the rain had flattened the long grass and swollen the stream. She slipped outside and breathed in the cool, clean air.

  She had meant to go straight in again, but something drew her down to the bridge. On this bright morning the fears of the night before seemed absurd.

  She stood on the bridge looking down into the racing water, enjoying the beauty of the day. Of course she hadn’t really seen Mr Wyngate in the flash of lightning. He was just an ordinary man, and could be fought, like any other man.

  So lost was she in these thoughts that she did not hear the approach of footsteps, and it was something in the silence that made her look up.

  And she saw him.

  He was standing just a few feet away, watching her in silence.

  The shock was terrible.

  It was as though a demon had come up through a trapdoor. Rena had no idea how long he had been there, his cold, dead eyes fixed upon her.

  “Good morning,” she said, trying to sound firm.

  He didn’t bother with courtesies.

  “You’re a very clever woman,” he grated. “Cleverer than I thought at first. Only a really sharp intelligence can play the idiot as well as you did.”

  “You flatter me, sir. I assure you it was no performance.”

  “Don’t waste my time with that stuff,” he snapped. “We both know what this is about.”

  “Then you have the advantage of me.”

  He sighed impatiently. “I thought better of your wits than this.”

  “Shall we go into the house and I can inform His Lordship – ?”

  “Stay where you are. It’s you I came to see. Walk with me.”

  He left the bridge and began to follow the rough path to the trees. Rena followed him.

  “I thought you had returned to London,” she ventured to say.

  “I put up at the local hotel last night,” he said tersely.

  “There are things to be said.”

  “Then let me call the Earl – ”

  “Not to him, to you,” he interrupted her. “Just wait until I’m ready.”

  Suddenly he stopped and swung round, staring at the house. They were now some distance from it and had a clear view of the whole structure, with the tower rising incongruously but magnificently from the centre.

  “The man who built that house knew what he was doing when he added the tower,” Wyngate said abruptly.

  “The tower isn’t part of the original structure,” Rena pointed out. “It was added a hundred years later by the seventh Earl.”

  “Then he knew what he was doing. A man could climb up to the top of that and be monarch of all he surveys. That’s what a tower is for. It should be bigger. Much bigger.”

  “It’s already too large for the house,” Rena objected.

  “It should be bigger,” Wyngate said obstinately.

  An uneasy feeling was creeping over her. They had seen this man off the day before, and now he was back as though nothing had happened. Had his mind actually taken in the fact that John had refused? She began to think it hadn’t.

  Wyngate’s gaze was still fixed on the tower. He spoke to Rena without looking at her.

  “The trouble with my daughter is that she never seems to be interested in the men I want her to be interested in.”

  “Maybe that’s because you can’t choose for another person,” Rena replied. “It’s up to her and I think it would be foolish of her to marry someone unless she was very much in love with him.”

  Her voice unconsciously softened on the last words. She felt as though a dream had come over her, but she was startled out of it by his furious voice.

  “Matilda will love and marry the man I want her to. What woman is capable of choosing well, when her father is as rich as I am?

  “Of course men will want to marry her because they know I am rattling with golden sovereigns, but I know what is best.”

  “Then it seems to me that your money is her misfortune,” Rena replied quietly.

  “Rubbish! Don’t talk in that drivelling fashion. I know who will make her happy, not only for a short time, but for the rest of her life. That is why she must learn to obey me!”

  “You care nothing for her happiness but only for your own,” Rena said. “You think only of trying to make yourself bigger and more important than you really are.”

  “What did you say?”

  Her temper was beginning to rise. “You heard exactly what I said. Love comes from the heart and only God can bestow it.”

  At last he withdrew his gaze from the house, and turned to stare at her.

  “Are you serious?” he asked. “Are you saying that love is something religious?”

  “Of course it is,” Rena replied. “People search for it, hoping that if they can’t find it in this life, they will do so in the world to come.”

  “Stuff and nonsense! Marriage is what women are there for and to produce children who will carry on the name and position of their father.”

  “That is what you think,” Rena retorted. “I believe that love comes from God. When we fall in love it is something holy and it mustn’t be thrown aside by money, position or anything which is of importance in this world.”

  He stared at her as though unable to believe his ears.

  “I think you really believe all that stuff.”

  “Passionately!”

  He gave a grunt that might almost have been humorous.

  “Well, maybe you think you do. You’ll change your tune when you hear what I have to say.”

  “Mr Wyngate, I am not interested in anything you have to say.”

  “Everyone is interested in money, Mrs. Colwell. Or should I say, Miss Colwell?”

  If he had hoped to disconcert her he was disappointed. To his astonishment Rena laughed.

  “Miss is correct. My father was the vicar here until recently, now I’m Lord Lansdale’s housekeeper. He invented a husband for me to prevent you thinking exactly what you are thinking.”

  “You’re very frank.”

  “Ah, but I don’t care in the least what you think of me, Mr Wyngate.” She could hardly believe that it was herself who had said those words. Was she really this cool, composed female who challenged this unpleasant man, and refused to let him disconcert her?

  It was he who backed down, pretending not to hear her last remark.

  “So your father was a clergyman. They always think that God will turn up at the last moment and do for them what they should have done for themselves a long time ago. But people who want money, have to fight for it.”

  “And what about the people who don’t want money, Mr Wyngate?”

  “They don’t exist,” he said savagely.

  “They exist, but in a world you can’t enter.” She added softly, “That’s why you hate them.”

  He swung round on her and the malevolence was there in his eye
s again. She had flicked him on the raw this time.

  “I don’t hate them,” he said at last. “I despise them. Once you have money you can buy many things which make a human being happy.”

  “Yes,” she said unexpectedly. “Many things. But not all. Your tragedy is that you don’t know the difference.”

  “What do you mean, tragedy?”

  “The greatest tragedy in the world.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me!” he screamed.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me,” he repeated emphatically.

  “It’s time I was going in.”

  “Wait! I haven’t said what I came to say to you. recognise you as a formidable woman. I respect that.”

  She was silent.

  “Name your price,” he said at last.

  “Please stand aside and let me pass. I have work to do.”

  “I said name your price. You can make it a high one. You’re an obstacle in my way, and I’m prepared to remove you in a way that’s pleasant to yourself. You get out of here and you can have a comfortable life on my money.”

  “You don’t really think you can bribe me?” she demanded. “You must have taken leave of your senses.”

  “Look, there’s no need for outraged virtue. I’ve said I’ll pay you well, so don’t waste my time with meaningless mouthings.”

  Rena regarded him curiously, as she might have studied a loathsome insect.

  “You’ll – pay – well?” she mused.

  “Extremely well.”

  “That sounds splendid, but it isn’t very specific.”

  “So you want figures. Five thousand pounds.”

  She laughed.

  “Very well, ten thousand!”

  “I thought you were a serious man, Mr Wyngate. Good day to you.”

  She tried to move past him but he grasped her arm and snapped, “If I go higher than that I’ll want more than your silence in return. Is that what you’re after, you grasping little doxy?”

  Before she could answer this insult he said something that took her breath away.

  “Very well, you can have it. I’ll set you up in a fine house in Park Lane. You can have jewels, servants, cash, a box at the opera, all the clothes you want. And you’ll belong to me, any hour of the day or night that it pleases me.”