The Richness of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “He turned out to unsuitable after all,” she answered, giving Ewen a meaningful look that he understood immediately.

  Ewen and Moira sat down on the comfortable sofas and watched the sun streaming in through the windows of the drawing room.

  “Ewen, do you think you could ever live in London?”

  “No, I miss the Highlands too much already. London is all very well, but you cannot beat the air and the aspect at Loch Earn.”

  “Do you think we will be successful, Ewen? We have so little time left – ”

  “Moira, we were agreed that if we needed to stay for Christmas, then we would.”

  “Yes, I know, but I miss mother and I would hate not to see our parents at Christmas. It would not seem like a festive time at all if we were stuck here.”

  “I do understand, sister, but for all we ken, the creditors may have already begun to dismantle the estate. Was not the inventory due last week?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “It seems strange that we haven’t had any news from home.”

  “Maybe, but mother will be busy with looking after father and then there is the estate to run.”

  “Aye, but it more or less runs itself at this time of year. It is only come lambing season in January that help would be needed.”

  Moira’s heart sank. January. She was so hoping to be home for Christmas or Hogmanay at the very least.

  Ewen caught her look of horror.

  “Moira, we must never lose sight of why we are here. While I have every confidence that I will soon find a suitable match, you have to make more of an effort.”

  Ewen’s words stung but she knew that he spoke the truth. But she found flirting so hard that when she met someone, she could not help comparing him with Stuart.

  How it grieved her that he had not written. Long weeks had passed and she had stopped eagerly anticipating the post for it always brought nothing. She was so depressed by this turn of affairs that she could not even feel angry with him.

  “Moira?”

  “Yes, Ewen, you are right as ever. But it is so long since we had news of home. I long to hear if father is improving.”

  “I am sure he is as well as can be expected else mother would have sent for us.”

  “Sarah thinks we are here to give him a rest.”

  “Then it is as well that she believes it. Moira, you must not speak to her about our true reason for being here. You must promise me that.”

  Moira nodded her assent, but felt resentfulness growing in her heart.

  ‘Oh, why must we find ourselves in this situation? I do so wish we had never met Larry Harwood.’

  *

  Later that afternoon Moira joined Lady Cunningham in her carriage.

  The weather had changed and a thin mist hung over Hyde Park as they made their way to Lady Thompkin Smythe’s house in Kensington.

  Moira gazed up in wonderment as they passed the statue of Prince Albert in Hyde Park. Such a fine man, she thought and so devoted to the Queen.

  The call was a pleasant one and Lady Thompkin-Smythe was a wonderful hostess. Her drawing room was as busy as any doctor’s surgery and the poor little maid was run off her feet bringing tea and answering the door.

  Afterwards, as they drove home, Lady Cunningham discreetly asked Moira if her brother might be looking for a bride during his stay.

  “You are right,” replied Moira. “Ewen thought it high time that he turned his attention to marriage. He has not had much success in Scotland and so thought that perhaps he would fare better in London. It is so important that he weds and produces an heir – the Strathcarrons are but a small clan and there is no other to follow him.”

  “That is a pity. I had thought that there were many fine Scottish ladies who might take his fancy. I am afraid that many of the young ladies in London are rather flighty as he found out with that Mary Anne creature. And you, my dear, am I right in thinking that you too are also searching?”

  Moira blushed deeply and then confessed,

  “That is also true. I am young, but mother is most keen for me to marry ere long. She was married by the time she was twenty and wishes me to follow suit.”

  “But that awful business with the MacKinnon fellow tell me, dear, what really happened?”

  “You know already, Sarah. He accosted me in the Hackfields’ garden and then tried to attack me – ”

  “I was told that you had met him before. Ewen mentioned that there had been an incident on your journey when you were on Mr. Weston’s ship.”

  At the mention of Stuart’s name, Moira’s heart beat so fast that it took her breath away. She had been trying her best not to think about him, but during the long lonely hours of the night, she had longed so to hear from him.

  Try as she might, Moira realised that her feelings were no longer under her control. She loved him.

  Yes. She loved him!

  “Dear, if it is too painful – ”

  Lady Cunningham’s gentle voice broke into her thoughts and made her start. Moira became quite cross for allowing herself the luxury of thinking of Stuart.

  “MacKinnon joined us at Queensferry and from the moment he arrived, he regarded me in an unseemly manner. He had a way of turning things round so I was made to feel like I was responsible for what happened.”

  “Which was?”

  “He tried to force himself upon me and kiss me.”

  Lady Cunningham let out a gasp. She put her arm around Moira and hugged her.

  “You poor, poor darling. I had no idea that it was as bad as that. I must make sure that man will never be received amongst my friends again. I shall write to everyone presently and inform them of the true nature of this – this evil man!”

  She paused for thought and then continued,

  “But you must not let one bad egg put you off looking for a husband. There are plenty of eligible young gentlemen in London Society and I will make it my business to introduce you to as many decent ones as possible. There – we have a plan.”

  Moira smiled thinly. Sarah was so kind almost like a mother to her. She did not wish to seem ungrateful but she did not want to meet any other young men.

  Although she had not told Ewen, she was secretly pinning all her hopes on him making a sufficiently good match so that she did not have to marry for money.

  ‘I fear that Stuart has set a standard that others will fail to reach,’ she sighed.

  Moira felt heavy of heart as she climbed up the steps of the Cunningham’s house. Berbridge opened the door with his usual solemn expression.

  “My Lady,” he announced. “His Lordship has returned from the shires.”

  “Oh, dear,” Lady Cunningham cried, turning to Moira. “And I was so hoping we could arrange some more ‘at homes’. Laurence gets upset when I have more than one a week. I have tried to tell him that there is nothing wrong, but he does not agree.”

  “My Lady, there is a letter for you and one has come for your guests.”

  Berbridge bowed and presented Lady Cunningham with a silver salver.

  “This has the Brampton seal. I wonder what news there is from them.”

  “And this is your Ladyship,” Berbridge proffered the salver in Moira’s direction.

  For a fleeting second, her heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Perhaps it is from Stuart.’

  And then she remembered that Berbridge had said that it was for both her and Ewen. Gazing at the familiar writing, she saw that it was a letter from home.

  “Thank you, I will wait until my brother returns before I open it.”

  “Oh, Heavens! This is awful. A calamity,” exclaimed Lady Cunningham, dropping her letter to the floor.

  “Sarah, what is it? Is it bad news?”

  By this time, Lady Cunningham was openly weeping.

  Moira picked up the letter, and then hastily took her by the arm and led her into the drawing room.

  “Oh, I cannot believe it.”

  “Sarah, please tell me.”


  Sitting down on the sofa, she composed herself, dabbing her eyes.

  “A dear, dear friend of mine, the Duke of Brampton, has had a dreadful accident and has been killed. His boat capsized on the Solent and all were lost. His eldest son, Louis, was also in the boat. This is terrible, terrible news.”

  “There were no survivors?”

  “None. Oh, poor Prudence! Losing not only a husband but her son as well. There is just her and a daughter left. Dear, would you forgive me if I left you to your own devices? Laurence should know of this news immediately and I simply must put pen to paper and express my condolences.”

  “Of course,” replied Moira, suddenly feeling quite unwell.

  ‘What if our letter contains bad news too?’ she thought. ‘Oh, where is Ewen?’

  At long last, she heard the sound of Ewen’s voice in the hall. Ewen entered the room wearing a worried expression.

  “Moira, what is the matter?”

  She did not speak.

  She simply held out the letter bearing the family crest.

  Ewen took it from her and stared at it for an eternity.

  “You did not open it?”

  “No, I wanted to wait until you had returned. Just in case it was bad news.”

  The two of them sat looking at the letter. Finally, Ewen could bear it no longer. He picked it up from the table and ripped it open.

  “Well?” demanded Moira, fearing what it might contain.

  “It is from mother,” he began.

  “Is she well? Is father well?”

  “Moderately, aye. But there is more – the American Bank has sent a representative to Lednock Castle to go over the contents of the inventory they submitted. Moira, do you ken what this means?”

  Moira looked at her brother blankly.

  “If they have sent a man to do a second inventory, then that means they will shortly be putting everything up for auction!”

  Moira gasped and fell to her knees.

  “But Ewen, they cannot just sell everything from beneath us. Surely there has to be a court hearing or something?”

  “No, these people can do as they like,” he replied, grimly.

  “Sister, we do not have much time – a month at most. We must redouble our efforts to find wealthy spouses – it is the only way to save Lednock!”

  Moira was speechless with horror.

  ‘We have much less time than I thought to stem the tide of the inevitable,’ she groaned to herself miserably.

  Ewen was chewing his knuckles, his face so very pale.

  “Sister, we have to make every effort to do what we set out to achieve. Parties and such are all very well, but this is no longer a game. The very future of the Strathcarrons and Lednock is at stake. Are you willing to put your all into finding a husband?”

  “Yes, I will,” replied Moira, turning her face away so that he could not see her tears. “Only today Sarah mentioned there were more young men for me to meet.”

  Ewen grunted his approval and handed Moira the letter. As she read it, her tears streaming down her cheeks, one thought kept repeating in her brain,

  ‘Oh, Stuart. Stuart. Where are you when I need you?’

  But deep in her heart, she knew that he could not save her from the inevitable, and that thought made her weep even more.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  No sooner had Lord Cunningham greeted them than he was whisked away again. Moira and Ewen saw him but briefly before he and his wife left for Hampshire.

  “My dears, I am sure you will find plenty of amusement without me,” Lady Cunningham had said as she waved from her carriage. “Berbridge has the invitations for all the parties over the next few days so please, go and enjoy yourselves. I have written to everyone to tell them that I am unable to attend because of the Brampton’s funerals.”

  As the carriage disappeared, the postman arrived bearing a whole sheaf of letters from people who were also going to the funerals and who were cancelling their parties.

  “What are we going to do with ourselves now?” groaned Ewen, as he opened yet another note that stated that the writer deeply regretted the inconvenience, but felt it expedient to cancel all social engagements.

  “This is terrible. How can we achieve our aim if we are unable to meet new people?”

  “Here is another,” said Moira. “So many people seemed to know the Duke of Brampton. London will be a ghost town for the next few days.”

  “And to think, Christmas is but a week and a half away, sister, and all will stop.”

  “But there will still be Christmas Eve balls and then New Year celebrations.”

  Ewen left the drawing room, huffing and puffing. It seemed that whatever Moira said would not be calm him.

  ‘I shall let him be for a while, but without Sarah, I cannot go out and about – it is not seemly for me to be seen in public without a chaperone.’

  Moira felt miserable at the prospect of being housebound for the next few days. Ewen, being a man, was able to come and go as he pleased without the kind of restraints that were placed on her as a young lady.

  ‘I shall catch up on my reading,’ Moira decided.

  And so, she made herself comfortable in the morning room with her copy of David Copperfield. Moira did so like Mr. Dickens’ novels and thought it a pity that he was no longer alive to write more.

  ‘I wonder what he would have made of my own situation?’ she muttered to herself, as she opened her book, ‘truly it is the stuff of novels!’

  *

  The next day Ewen was feeling in a considerably better humour. He suggested to Moira that they take a trip to Fortnum and Mason’s in Piccadilly for Christmas shopping.

  “We should find something for Sarah,” he said, ringing for Berbridge to call a Hackney carriage. “We cannot afford much, but I hear that their food hall is wonderful.”

  “That is an excellent idea, Ewen,” agreed Moira, pleased that she now had an opportunity to leave the house.

  “I will go upstairs and fetch my hat and coat.”

  Moira felt more cheerful as she stepped into the Hackney carriage, even though the day was dreary and cold.

  Wrapping herself in the warm cashmere blankets provided by the footman, she allowed her thoughts to dwell for a while on Stuart. There had still been no letter and she had found that as the days wore on, she was thinking of him less often.

  “Moira, we need to think of another plan in case this enforced mourning for the Bramptons affects the remainder of the social calendar leading up to Christmas,” announced Ewen, as the carriage took off down Curzon Street.

  “We can hardly just arrive at people’s homes and expect them to entertain us. We still do not know anyone well enough to call upon them without Sarah,” added Moira, ever mindful of the correct etiquette.

  “Och! I cannot abide these silly rules,” he answered, testily, “back home, if I want to visit a friend or someone in the village – I just turn up!”

  “Ewen, we are in London and this is how they do things here – ”

  “Which is why I prefer the company of good honest farmers.”

  “Are you telling me that you have not enjoyed the parties and the company of the many pretty young ladies you have met?” said Moira, teasing him.

  “Harumph!” coughed Ewen, gazing out of the carriage windows at a group of elegant young ladies making their way down Bond Street.

  After a pleasant turn around Swan and Edgar’s in Piccadilly, they felt thirsty.

  “Shall we visit Fortnum and Mason’s restaurant for some tea?” suggested Moira.

  “Aye, grand.”

  Moira understood that many pretty young ladies were in the habit of taking tea there, which could have been the reason for Ewen’s enthusiasm.

  Inside Fortnum and Masons, there were so many lovely things that Moira became distracted and almost forgot the real reason for their visit.

  “Moira, will you please come to the restaurant with me before I drop of thirst?” pleaded Ewen, as she ogled
a huge tower of chocolates in the food hall.

  The restaurant was quite full by the time they had taken the lift upstairs to the fourth floor. A waiter showed them to a table and handed them the menus.

  “So much to choose from,” sighed Moira, who could not decide between Earl grey tea or lapsang souchong. “Now, shall I have a cake or a sandwich?”

  Ewen was too busy scanning the restaurant to answer.

  Suddenly, he let out a cry,

  “Why, look? It’s Lord Kinross! I must go and pay my respects. It’s a long, long time since we last met.”

  He jumped up from the table and hurried over to the other side of the restaurant.

  Moira could see that the gentleman in question was sitting with two young ladies. He was tall and handsome with wild wavy hair that even though it was cut short, did not sit close to his head. His complexion was ruddy and suggested indulgence rather than health and Moira was not altogether sure that she liked the look of him.

  Ewen came bounding over, his face full of enthusiasm.

  “Lord Kinross bids us join him for tea. You must come and meet him.”

  “But Ewen, I thought that the purpose of our outing was to make new plans?”

  “Aye, aye, we can talk in the carriage on the way home.”

  Reluctantly, Moira rose from her seat and followed Ewen to Lord Kinross’s table.

  “This is my sister, Moira. And Moira, this is Lord Kinross and his two cousins, I am sorry, ladies, but I did not catch your names?”

  The two girls simpered. Ewen’s charm had won them already, it would seem.

  “I am Emily Tennant and this is my cousin, May,” said the blonde girl with the fetching curls. She smiled shyly at Moira and inclined her head. Moira thought her charming and she noticed that Ewen was smiling at her a great deal.

  “Now, Lady Moira, where have you been hiding your fine brother?” bellowed Lord Kinross. He seemed unable to converse in anything softer than a shout. “I have not seen him for many a long month. Last time, he took my shirt when we played cards. Aye, that was an evening I will not forget.”

  He laughed loudly and Moira noticed that some ladies who sat nearby turned and tutted. She felt a little embarrassed to be sitting with him.

  “The estate has taken up much of my time,” said Ewen, “we have had floods and the harvest came in late.”