An Unexpected Love

by Barbara Cartland

  ‘I wonder if Sir Richard is asleep,’ she thought.

  It was odd to think of that tall, stern-faced man lying in bed in the other wing of the house.

  ‘He is a strange gentleman. So severe and difficult, but sometimes there is an expression in his eyes which makes me think that under that austere surface is a person I could, perhaps, come to like.’

  She fell into a deep reverie and had no idea how long she had been sitting at the window, when the gravel on the pathway beneath her crunched again and Ravina glanced down casually from her perch, expecting to see the footman again.

  Then she gulped and drew back behind the curtains.

  It was Sir Richard!

  Wrapped in a long black cloak, he was prowling along the path and then, as if he realised the gravel was giving away his position, he stepped onto the lawn and vanished into the shadows cast by a tall beech tree.

  Ravina sat watching for another half hour but Sir Richard did not reappear.

  Eventually, puzzled, she climbed into bed.

  ‘Perhaps he had felt ill and needed the fresh air. Maybe he had taken one brandy too many after I had left him in the drawing room.’

  She knew several of her father’s guests had often been in the same inebriated state after formal dinners.

  Ravina had learnt from her mother that you noted, but did not comment. You just pretended that nothing had happened.

  She returned to her bed, snuggling down amongst the lace, lavender-scented pillows.

  She wrinkled her nose.

  She might be able to ignore drunkenness in a stranger, but she had never seen her dear Papa the worse for drink and she knew she could never love a man who spent so much time in his cups.

  And as she finally drifted off to sleep, she was glad that the next day Sir Richard Crawford would be gone.

  *

  Along the corridor, Dulcie was still awake. She had lit the oil lamp in her room and sat staring at her face in the dressing table mirror.

  ‘When did I grow so old?’ she murmured as she ran her fingers over her cheeks.

  Even in the warm light from the lamp, she looked pale and no amount of smoothing would remove the frown line from between her brows.

  She knew she had so much to be thankful for – a home, a job, food and clothing. But oh, how wearying it was to always be grateful, especially to Ravina Ashley!

  Dulcie loved her cousin, but often wondered where her headstrong ways would lead her.

  She pictured Ravina as she had been this evening – excited, happy, full of the joys of youth and beauty.

  Ravina had never wanted for anything in her whole life. She only had to ask and it was given to her.

  ‘And at the moment Ravina obviously likes Sir Michael,’ Dulcie whispered and the light from the lamp blurred as tears filled her eyes.

  She brushed them away impatiently. She was being silly. Why should Ravina not enjoy Sir Michael’s company?

  So what if he was considerably older than her? It would still make a good match. He was rich, she was titled and they both had social standing, loved horses and country life. What could be more suitable than a marriage between them?

  Dulcie stood up wearily, blew out the lamp and climbed into bed.

  She lay gazing up at the ceiling remembering the glorious day she had spent at the Priory, helping Sir Michael choose curtains for his drawing room and advising him on the pictures to be hung in the dining room.

  For a few hours she had forgotten that she was Dulcie Allen, the poor relation, housekeeper and companion. She had once again been Miss Allen of the Laurels, Little Emsworthy, a girl with a loving father, a comfortable home and a future before her.

  A future that had been ruined by the wicked man who had cheated her father of his money, whose name she had never known, but whose face was etched in her mind for ever.

  Dulcie slid her hand up under her pillow and her fingers closed gently around a square of linen.

  A gentleman’s handkerchief, still ironed into a perfect square, that Sir Michael had used to remove a piece of grit from her eye on that memorable day.

  And holding it close to her heart, she finally fell asleep.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The following morning, Ravina rose early. Charity helped her into a pale blue dress laced through at the neck and cuffs with dark sapphire ribbons.

  Holding back her cascading curls with another length of dark blue velvet, she finished off with small blue leather slippers.

  As she walked along the corridor leading to the wide staircase, she felt happy and full of the joys a beautiful summer day can bring.

  Ravina was looking forward to her breakfast and anxious to see Dulcie to arrange her visit to the Priory for lunch with Sir Michael.

  Would she stay there for a few nights as he had requested?

  No, she felt that would not be prudent. Her parents expected her to be here at Curbishley Hall in case there were any emergencies on the estate that only her word as an Ashley could resolve.

  As she reached the stairs, she paused. She could hear voices from the hall below and stopped to peer over the banister.

  To her astonishment, Sir Richard Crawford was standing talking to Nanny Johnson!

  Whatever he was saying, the old lady was listening, nodding and obviously replying, reaching up to pat his shoulder as she spoke.

  As Ravina watched, the tall dark man put his hand under the old lady’s arm and assisted her across the hall towards the long corridor that ran towards the baize door leading to the servants’ quarters.

  As they passed under the stairway, she could hear Sir Richard laughing and the throaty cackle of Nanny’s reply.

  Ravina picked up her skirts and swiftly ran down the stairs. What could her nanny have to say to Sir Richard?

  That was the first time Ravina had heard him laugh.

  It made her feel odd to see his stern face soften into such a pleasant expression.

  She caught up with Nanny just as she was sitting herself down at the kitchen table, ready for her breakfast.

  Ravina knelt at her side.

  “Nanny, dear, how are you this morning?”

  The old lady’s sharp dark eyes gleamed.

  “Get up off the floor at once, Lady Ravina. You’ll make that dress dirty and I certainly did not bring you up to behave in such a rumbustious fashion.”

  Ravina stood up and waved away the hovering figure of Mrs. Diver.

  “I see you have met our house guest, Nanny. I saw you talking to Sir Richard in the hall. I hope he did not have any complaints about his room.”

  “No, he said he slept well. He seems a very nice gentleman. Looking for a house in Dorset, he told me. To breed horses.”

  “Yes, so I believe.”

  Nanny Johnson sipped her tea with a noisy slurp.

  “I heard last night that Stanton Grange is to be sold.Old Lord Stanton died last month and his heir lives in the Highlands of Scotland and does not need a house in the South.”

  “Stanton Grange! Goodness, Nanny. It is a horrid house. You can smell damp in the bedrooms, the kitchens have very little windows and the stabling is dreadful. Did you tell Sir Richard that it was available?”

  Nanny Johnson pulled a large bowl of porridge towards her and poured a generous helping of honey over it.

  “Well, I don’t rightly remember. Dear, dear, my memory isn’t as good as it used to be. Perhaps you had best tell him yourself, seeing as how you seem to be concerned about the type of house he purchases.”

  She took a large spoonful of oats and mumbled her enjoyment at the taste and Ravina knew their conversation was over.

  She was drinking her hot chocolate when Sir Richard entered the breakfast room.

  He bowed and took a seat opposite her, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the silver jug on the table, waving away the parlour maid’s offer of help.

  “Good morning, Lady Ravina. I hope that I find you well rested?”

  “Good morning, Sir Richard.
Yes, indeed and I trust I find you the same and that your room and bed were to your satisfaction.”

  “Indeed, I fell asleep immediately.”

  Ravina started.

  She was so tempted to say,

  ‘Sir, you are a liar! I saw you outside in the grounds with my own eyes.’

  But she knew, of course, that she could say nothing of the sort. Sir Richard was a guest in her parents’ house and as such had to be treated with courtesy and respect.

  “If you find your mount is not fully recovered, please feel free to take one of my father’s horses.”

  Sir Richard raised a dark eyebrow at her.

  “Thank you. That is a kind offer indeed. I am keen to investigate various options for buying an estate locally and without a horse, the road might be a long one.”

  He smiled suddenly and Ravina almost gasped at the difference it made to his severe face.

  “That extremely entertaining old lady, your nanny, told me about an estate quite nearby that is now for sale. Do you know it, Lady Ravina?”

  “Stanton Grange. Yes, I do.”

  She hesitated, toying with her fork. Should she tell him of its drawbacks or would it sound as if she was far too interested in his affairs?

  “It is worth an inspection, of course, but I am sure there are lots of places that would be just as suitable.”

  “Wherever I look, I shall need a mount, so thank you once again for your kind offer.”

  “I have walked all the paths and lanes for miles around,” Ravina replied. “And must admit that although the exercise is beneficial, being carried by a sturdy mount does have its advantages.”

  Sir Richard reached for a piece of toast and began buttering it slowly.

  “Do you walk alone through the countryside?” he asked casually.

  “Oh, yes, sometimes. Dulcie is always busy and Mama and Papa have no inclination for walking.”

  “Surely it is not entirely wise. There are all sorts of gypsies, ruffians and vagabonds roaming around these days.”

  Ravina laughed.

  “The Romany gypsies visit Curbishley Hall every year on their travels. The men sell us pots and pans and trade working horses with Papa in exchange for other goods. I know them well and they would never harm anyone.

  “I have explored every inch, every cottage and field for miles around. And it is rare that I walk far without meeting some farmer or labourer whom I have known since childhood.”

  Sir Richard’s face had reverted to its stern expression.

  He knew only too well that danger could strike at any time and that a good – natured farm lad would be scant help if it did.

  This beautiful girl with her determined expression, her chin tilted so defiantly, had much courage but he knew that would be of little use in a dire situation.

  “You seem, sir, to have somewhat outdated ideas of what the female of the species can do in this day and age.”

  The plate of toast was pushed away uneaten.

  “Indeed, Lady Ravina. Young ladies feel free to do so much that they would not even have contemplated a short while ago.”

  Ravina pulled a face.

  “Yes, you are quite right. I have heard it rumoured that some of us can even count and write our own names!”

  Sir Richard’s lips twitched.

  “Yes, it is a dreadful state of affairs! What is the world coming to? But, joking apart, Lady Ravina, I would, in all earnestness, urge you to take very great care and not spend too much time alone far from your home.”

  Ravina was about to object, but stopped.

  His expression was not one of cold arrogance. He seemed genuinely concerned and this puzzled her. This was not the first time he had expressed doubts about her behaviour.

  Just then the door opened and Dulcie bustled in.

  “Ravina, Sir Richard, please excuse me for not attending on you sooner. There has been a small revolution in the kitchen due to having two cooks in attendance. Something to do with jugged hare or rabbit pie, I believe.”

  Ravina stood up.

  “Sir Richard, may I introduce my cousin, Miss Dulcie Allen. Dulcie, Sir Richard Crawford.”

  “Miss Allen. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Oh, Sir Richard. Please excuse my hasty entrance,” Dulcie blushed as he bowed over her hand. “I am honoured to make your acquaintance. Ravina informed me you were staying the night. I trust that everything was pleasant and comfortable?”

  “It could not have been bettered in a palace,” Sir Richard said gravely. “And this morning, Lady Ravina has kindly offered me the use of one of her father’s horses and I am hoping that she will ride out with me to inspect some properties I am thinking of buying.”

  Ravina looked up, startled. He had not mentioned this idea before.

  But, she thought with a secret smile, it would be fun. She did not actually like Sir Richard. He was far too opinionated for her taste, but she would like to show him the beauties of the Dorset countryside.

  And, she added silently to herself, there was something secretive about the man, a puzzle that needed solving.

  Why, to start with, had he been walking around outside the Hall in the dead of night?

  “We could begin with Stanton Grange,” she said eagerly. “It is only two miles away to the East of Rosbourne.”

  “Oh, but Ravina, surely you already have an engagement? You promised to visit Sir Michael at the Priory for lunch today to discuss the alterations he is making to his home,” Dulcie intervened, trying to hide her exasperation at her young cousin’s lack of memory.

  “Goodness, I quite forgot,” Ravina exclaimed, her blue eyes wide with guilt. “I am so sorry, Sir Richard, but I have indeed promised to visit Sir Michael today. And perhaps you will be able to move a little faster around the houses without my company.”

  “I see. Well, if you will excuse me, Lady Ravina – Miss Allen, I must discover how my horse is this morning and then be on my way. I thank you for your hospitality and wish you both a pleasant luncheon at the Priory.”

  Dulcie pulled a little face, her mouth thinning.

  “Oh, I shall not be going. I fear it is obvious that Sir Michael must have found my ideas for his house rather too countrified for his taste. He is anxious for Ravina’s views. He is a man of such taste and dignity and I am rather ashamed to have offered my little ideas for his beautiful home.”

  Sir Richard frowned.

  “I am sure that is not so, Miss Allen. I cannot believe that you do not have a perfect idea of what would be suitable for Sir Michael’s home.”

  Dulcie coloured and dropped a little curtsy at his compliment.

  Sir Richard bowed in return and glanced at Ravina, as if he was going to speak, then nodded and left the room.

  “An interesting man,” Dulcie mused. “It will be good to have him as a neighbour.”

  “I am sure he is most admirable and obviously Papa must think so or he would not have offered him our hospitality when they met abroad. But I am afraid he has very old-fashioned views about today’s women. Never a conversation passes without him lecturing me about my wayward behaviour!”

  Dulcie sighed.

  The younger girl looked so spirited and full of life. Ravina had never known a day’s trouble or problems. She believed the world was full of goodness and that bad things only happened to bad people.

  Dulcie knew better. Her own father had been a dear but vague gentleman, a widower since she was born. He had lived for his books and the exotic orchids he had grown in his greenhouse and had been the bewildered victim of an unscrupulous man who had pushed him to invest all his money in non-existent stocks.

  When he died, Dulcie was sure it was of a broken heart, because his belief in the goodness of his fellow man had been shattered and she would have been destitute if Lord Ashley had not offered her a place to live and a job of work to do.

  But oh, how she longed for her own home once more to read the books she loved, to garden and sew and make a go
od home for someone dear to her.

  Now she watched as Ravina left the room and ran upstairs to change into her riding clothes.

  It was Ravina who would lunch at the Priory with Sir Michael.

  Ravina who would give him advice on the restoration of his lovely old house.

  Ravina who would play hostess at the ball he had promised to give for the local gentry.

  Dulcie blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. She refused to allow herself to be jealous of her cousin.

  After all, she had enough common sense to realise that a woman in her lowly position – neither a servant nor a proper family member – was not the type of person that the Sir Michaels of this world would find attractive.

  But oh, how she wished her dear father had never met that dreadful man who had ruined them.

  Ravina changed hurriedly into her dark amber riding costume. She fully intended to ride over to the Priory. It was too lovely a day to be shut inside a stuffy carriage.

  No, she wanted to gallop across the Downs, feel the wind in her face and the freedom of being completely on her own.

  She ran down the back staircase, through the side door and out to the stable block.

  She had asked for Sweetie, her mare, to be saddled, but as she turned into the cobbled yard she was surprised to see a familiar figure.

  His coat discarded, his fine lawn shirt rolled up above his elbows, Sir Richard was on his knees, massaging oil into his grey stallion’s leg.

  His hair was dishevelled, there was a smear of mud down one cheek and Ravina felt her heart give a little skip as he looked up and smiled at her.

  “Why, Sir Richard, I thought you would have been long since gone,” Ravina said, trying to hide her confusion.

  He stood up, wiping his hands on an old piece of sacking.

  “Yes, I must apologise most sincerely for still imposing on your hospitality, Lady Ravina, but I discovered that my horse did indeed need more attention. He can be a temperamental animal, as stallions often are, and I would not have wanted one of your men to be injured in dealing with him.”

  “Is it a bad injury?” Ravina asked, gazing with admiration at the animal’s steely grey head and dark eyes looking down at her.