It Is Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “What – what did you say?” Verna howled, unable to believe that she had heard him properly.

  “I am saying that it’s time to be realistic, my dear. We’ve been fond of each other, but let’s not fool ourselves that we have found a great death-defying love. Such things exist only in novels. A marriage between us would have been very nice, if it had been possible. But it isn’t and we must each find another life.”

  “No,” she cried, backing away from him wild-eyed. “I just don’t believe this. You are being generous, trying to protect me.”

  Out of sight he clenched his hands into fists.

  How well she knew him, far too well to be so easily deceived! But it meant that he must try all the harder to convince her.

  Inwardly he prayed for the strength to be cruel.

  “Heaven save me from a woman who cannot face facts,” he said, infusing his voice with a touch of languid boredom. “Look, my dear, it’s over. It’s time for each of us to find a new life and I don’t intend mine to be in a hovel struggling to make ends meet.

  “There’s a world to be discovered by a man with brains and enterprise. I might even become a professional gambler. If I concentrate really hard, I could probably live well. Or perhaps I’ll go to America and make my fortune there. But whichever I choose, I need to be free from – shall we say – entanglements?”

  “Is that all I am? An entanglement?”

  “Well, let’s just say that I’ve been giving the matter some thought and it might be that this new life will suit me better than many domestic ties. I have always enjoyed my freedom and I always will. It’s true that your company made me dream of other things – briefly. But I am the man I am, and I’m not going to change now.”

  “No,” she whispered. “No, don’t say these things. They’re not true – they can’t be – ”

  “You have had a lucky escape, if only you would realise it. You are meant for a respectable life with a solid husband and a nursery. For me, it’s the open road.”

  “You mean that?” Verna whispered, looking at him from eyes full of cruel disillusion. “You really mean that?”

  Now was his last chance to tell her the truth – that he did not mean a word of it, that he would worship her until his last moment, although after today he might never see her again.

  It took all the strength he could muster not to fall at her feet begging for her love and forgiveness, imploring her to run away with him and stay with him forever.

  “Yes,” he muttered coolly. “I really mean it.”

  He wanted to cry out – ‘don’t believe me.’

  But all this was for nothing, unless he could make her believe him.

  If only she would say something instead of looking at him as if her heart had completely turned to stone. Or even do something, accuse him, insult him – anything.

  “I think it’s time I was going now,” he said. “I will not be staying for the rest of this charade. I have got my things – ”

  He indicated the packed bag by his feet.

  “You’re just going to walk out without a goodbye?”

  “I’ve left farewell letters to my sisters. The others will be glad if I don’t reappear. Certainly Anthony will. And your father.”

  “And if I hadn’t happened to walk in when I did, would you have bothered with me?” she asked in a voice that was beginning to harden.

  “Probably not. We had a good time together, but all things come to an end. We can say our goodbyes now.”

  “And I’ll say it gladly,” she fumed as her fury rose. “I see the truth about you now. You’re nothing but a cheap trickster with no honour or morals! You made me love you to pass the time, didn’t you?”

  He recovered enough to blurt out,

  “You must admit – it passed the time beautifully.”

  The words were scarcely out of his mouth before he was reeling back under a slap across the face that was more powerful than he would have expected from any woman.

  But this woman was under the influence of violent emotions.

  “I thought you were different from other men,” she raged. “I loved you – at least, I loved what I thought you were. But your heart is hollow and empty!”

  “All the better for you – to have escaped from – me,” he stuttered, resisting the temptation to rub his cheek.

  “I would have given up everything for you,” she seethed, eyes flashing, “and never counted the cost. If you loved me, any sacrifice would have been worth it.

  “But I see now what a fool I was to give my heart to a man who didn’t know how to value it. I’ll never make such a dreadful mistake again, not for you or any man. If this is what love is like, I want none of it.”

  “Don’t say that,” he begged. “There will still be love in your life – ”

  “Be silent!” she commanded. “How dare you say that to me! How dare you presume to tell me what my life will be! You can have no idea what you have done, how I despise you and all men.”

  “Excellent,” he just managed to say. “If you have learned to despise me, that’s probably best for both of us.”

  Scarcely knowing what he did, he picked up his bag and walked out of the room, then out of the house, careful to avoid anyone.

  He slipped out by a side door and began to run. He ran and ran, faster and faster, desperate to get away from this place that he could no longer bear, feeling as though he was running for his life.

  At last when he was deep in the forest, he stopped and leaned against a tree.

  He felt drained and exhausted, bereft of everything that made life worth living.

  The scene with Verna had been agonising.

  He had known that it had to be done for the sake of his darling, but it had torn him apart to treat her so. The memory of her face, regarding him with misery and hate, tortured him.

  It was the last sight of her he would ever see.

  He was glad of the stinging in his face where she had slapped him. It was the last touch he would ever have from her.

  Now he began to understand how his life had really changed.

  He had not taken a horse from the stables, as he would once have done.

  It began to pour with rain.

  He pulled his collar up around his ears and walked on, trying to ignore the storm that pounded him, growing heavier with every moment.

  Absorbed by so many dismal thoughts, he realised that he had almost reached the little town of Halton and had no idea where he would go then.

  It must be somewhere where he was not known.

  ‘I must now go abroad,’ he decided. ‘That is the only way to begin a new life.’

  And the thought came to him – perhaps he should leave England altogether and sail for America.

  His mother’s small legacy had enabled him to take some money with him, enough to survive for a while and probably enough for a passage to America.

  He trudged on till he reached the station, where he bought a ticket to London.

  Once there he caught an omnibus to Euston Station where he bought a second-class ticket to Liverpool. From that Northern port the ships departed for America.

  On arrival he headed straight for the port, anxious to make his decision final before he could weaken.

  He checked the departure times and discovered that the SS Caledonia was due to leave the following day.

  He had enough money to pay for Steerage. He had heard that this was fairly primitive, but there was nothing for it. This was a new life and one in which the comforts he had been used to were gone – as was the love.

  But he would not weaken. If the life that stretched ahead of him was tough, then he would be tougher.

  He would become a man Verna could be proud of, although she would never know.

  Reaching into his pocket he drew out some money and joined the queue at the ticket window.

  Soon his fate would be sealed forever.

  He would be on his way to America and nobody in this country would ever h
ear from him again.

  ‘Verna darling, my own true love,’ he murmured. ‘Goodbye. Goodbye forever in this world. Please God we shall meet again in another life.’

  *

  From the small casement window Verna watched as Michael walked away. With all her heart she longed to run after him, tell him again of her love and make him return.

  But she knew it was useless.

  He had made his decision and instinct told her that beneath his charm and good looks lay a man of steel.

  She would be as strong as he, she vowed.

  But when he was out of sight, her resolution broke and she flew out into the garden.

  “Michael!” she cried in agony. “Come back, come back to me!”

  But there was so sign of him and now the storm had started, thundering down and soaking her to the skin.

  “Michael!” she bawled. “Come back, Michael.”

  But he had gone forever.

  She ran on and on until her strength was gone and she collapsed against a tree, weeping.

  “Michael, Michael, do come back to me, my love. Don’t do this to us. How will I live without you?”

  Slowly she slid down the trunk, until she subsided into a heap at the bottom and stayed there unable to move, sobbing her heart out.

  Now she was sure that her life was over.

  “Hello! Hello!”

  She tensed at the sound of a man’s voice fearful it was her father. But through the falling rain she could make out the sight of Anthony approaching her.

  “Lady Verna,” he called out sharply, as he dropped down on one knee beside her. “What are you doing here? You will catch your death of cold.”

  “I don’t care,” she replied huskily. “He has gone.”

  “Gone? Who?”

  “Michael. He says he is leaving for good, because there can be no future for us now. I may never know what becomes of him and I care for nothing now.”

  Anthony was silent.

  If she had been watching him, Verna would have seen a cool calculation in his eyes, but she had buried her face into her hands, and when Anthony spoke, she was only aware of something in his voice that sounded like kindness.

  “You must not say that, Lady Verna. If you don’t care for your own fate, you should remember that there are those who care a great deal for you, who would be greatly pained if anything bad were to happen to you.”

  “The worst tragedy in the whole world has already happened. What more can there be?”

  “You could get pneumonia from being out here in the cold. That must be prevented at all costs. Let me help you to your feet.”

  He raised her and held her steady lest she fall.

  “Oh, Heavens, look at me!” she exclaimed. “What will my father say when he sees me?”

  “He must not see you,” Anthony declared. “Let’s return now to the house and I will send you home in my car. When you have gone, I’ll tell your father that you were feeling ill and had to leave. By the time he’s followed you home you will have been able to change out of your wet clothes and he need know nothing about this.”

  “Oh, yes, yes, please let’s do that,” she gasped.

  “Take my arm.”

  She did so, and they walked slowly away together. She knew that this was Anthony, whom Michael regarded as an enemy, but for the moment she could only feel his kindness.

  He attended to her solicitously on the journey back, speaking gently. Once he addressed her as plain ‘Verna’ and immediately corrected himself to ‘Lady Verna.’

  “Please call me Verna,” she said. “You are being so good to me.”

  “I cannot bear seeing you in such distress. Look, we are nearly there. Stay here amongst the trees so that nobody sees you, while I arrange for the car.”

  In a few moments the car was there.

  Anthony spoke to the chauffeur, handed her in the back and climbed in beside her.

  “I shall come as far as your front door, Verna, then leave you to be cared for by your servants.”

  She nodded.

  Despair was starting to overtake her and she could not speak. She longed to disappear right out of sight of the world, where she could weep her heart out.

  But she smiled politely at Anthony.

  She closed her eyes tightly and had no idea how long it took to reach her home.

  But then suddenly they arrived and Winifred was running out, looking anxious.

  Anthony handed her out of the car and bade her a polite farewell.

  “Trust me to say everything that is necessary,” he said. “Very soon I shall do myself the honour of calling to enquire after you.”

  He saw her safely into Winifred’s hands.

  Then he got back into the car and was driven away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Michael thought he must be dreaming.

  A small girl was looking down at him and when he opened his eyes, she rose, crying,

  “Papa, Mama, he is awake.”

  She stood back as a middle-aged man and woman came bustling into the room. Like their daughter they had faces beaming with goodwill.

  “Why, that’s so much better,” exclaimed the man. “We thought you would never open your eyes.”

  “Who – who are you?” whispered Michael. “And where am I?”

  “I am Henry Sanson,” the man declared. “Here is my wife, Irene and my little daughter Penny and this is our house in Liverpool.”

  “I am still in Liverpool?” he choked. “But – I was going to America – on the SS Caledonia. I do remember standing in the queue to buy a ticket, but then – ”

  “You were attacked. Someone hit you on the head and ran off with your money.”

  “The ship – ”

  “It sailed this morning.”

  Michael groaned.

  “Well, I have no money anyway. But what am I doing here?”

  “I had you brought to my home.”

  “That is very kind of you, sir.” He closed his eyes. “You did tell me your name – I apologise – ”

  “Never mind now,” the older man said soothingly. “The doctor says you need rest, then you will be all right.”

  It was bliss to sink back into sleep.

  His head was aching, his heart was broken and he longed for oblivion.

  When he woke again it was dark.

  Henry was sitting by the window, looking out at the night, but he rose and came towards the bed.

  “That’s better. We’ll soon have you back on your feet. The first thing is to get some food into you.”

  *

  Over the next few days they tended him as lovingly as if they had been his own family. Henry’s kind heart had made him become Michael’s protector.

  He was a businessman who had started in a poor way, selling cheap goods from a barrow in the market and risen as far as his limited education would allow. Marriage to a woman with a sharp brain had helped and they now owned two shops overlooking the port.

  “I’d just been round collecting the takings,” he told Michael, “and I stopped to look at the ships, as I often do. I long to see America, but at my age I can only dream.

  “As I was turning away I saw a commotion through the door of the ticket office and two men running off down the street. I looked in and there you were on the floor with blood streaming from your head.”

  “I dread to think what would have happened to me but for your kindness,” said Michael. “But, as you know, I have no money to repay you.”

  “Have I asked for money from you?” Henry puffed, preparing to be offended. “What does money have to do with it?”

  “Forgive me,” Michael apologised hastily. “I did you an injustice.”

  “There is a small favour you could do me,” Henry added thoughtfully. “But we’ll talk about it later.”

  He waited another two days before taking Michael to see the new shop he had bought and was hoping to open soon selling ‘fashionable’ goods.

  “You are obviously a gentl
eman,” remarked Henry. “You would bring in a good class of clientele. I don’t just mean behind the counter. You would be the manager and run the place.”

  “But you know nothing at all about me,” protested Michael. “I might be on the run from the law.”

  “Well if you are, the law has had plenty of chance to catch up with you. They don’t seem to be in too much of a hurry!”

  “If you’re going to trust me handling your money,” Michael replied thoughtfully, “then you really must know everything about me. Only promise never to repeat it – ”

  “Word of honour.”

  “Then I will tell you.”

  He told Henry his story, omitting no detail that was to his discredit, describing the disgraceful circumstances that had caused his father to disinherit him.

  He concealed his true identity, nor did he speak of Verna, but he said openly that he had been forced to accept employment as a chauffeur.

  “I have spent years living in and out of gambling dens and living on my wits,” he admitted. “It has been a shameful life.”

  But Henry had his own way of looking at things and he merely observed thoughtfully,

  “You must be very good with figures.”

  “No man can calculate odds as precisely as I can,” Michael told him with a wry smile.

  “Excellent. Then nobody will be able to fool you, which is exactly what I need. We’ll start work as soon as you are fully recovered. That is – if you agree.”

  Michael drew a long breath as he looked at the new crossroads suddenly revealed before him, but he realised that there was no real choice.

  Fate had snatched away his prospects in America, but it had also offered him a new life among good people.

  And Liverpool was sufficiently far from his home to protect his identity.

  “Very well, I’ll do it,” he cried. “If you are sure you can trust me not to make you bankrupt!”

  Henry beamed.

  “We’re going to be the success of the age!”

  From that moment they never looked back.

  Michael threw himself into the business with gusto, discovering that he had a talent for it. While the new shop was being set up, he spent some time in Henry’s other two shops, learning how things were done.