203. Love Wins

by Barbara Cartland

  Before he had met Lady Irene he had always been sorry for her for having lost both her brother and her husband, only to learn that Dawlish’s death had hardly affected her and now she could speak casually of her nearest relative.

  He had unfastened her arms from around his neck and said,

  “If you are proposing to me, Irene, although I am deeply honoured, my answer is quite simply ‘no’.”

  Lady Irene gave a cry of protest and flung herself against him.

  “Do you really believe that I would allow you to refuse me? I love you, Romney, I love you! I love you! And nothing and nobody in the world shall take you from me.”

  Lord Heywood had been unable to reply, for she was kissing him with burning lips and his protests were swept away by a fire that seemed to consume her with a violence that he had never known in any other woman.

  ‘More damned trouble,’ he said to himself now in the darkness.

  Then he found himself thinking of how he would tell Lalita all about his visits to the Bank, the Solicitors and Christie’s.

  ‘She will understand,’ he thought.

  He did not ask himself why he was so sure that she would.

  *

  On the drive home the horses, having rested, were as spirited as they had been the previous day and Lord Heywood had the distinct feeling that he was escaping from Lady Irene.

  He had risen early, but Mrs. Johnson, who was very slow in her movements, kept him waiting for breakfast and just before he was ready to go to the Mews to harness the horses to the curricle a note was delivered by a groom wearing a livery that Lord Heywood recognised.

  He was in the hall when Johnson opened the door and he heard the groom say,

  “’Ere’s another love token and if I goes on playin’ Cupid, I’ll be growin’ wings!”

  The groom had not waited for Johnson to reply, but had remounted his horse and trotted away.

  The old butler had looked around for the silver salver to place the note on before handing it to his Master.

  “Put it on the table,” Lord Heywood had said, “and if anybody enquires, inform them that I had left before I could receive it.”

  It took some minutes to make Johnson understand and when he did the old man said,

  “If ’er Ladyship asks, shall I tell ’er where Your Lordship’s gone?”

  “Unfortunately she will be able to deduce that for herself,” Lord Heywood replied.

  Because this made him even more determined than ever to leave London, Lord Heywood had gone to the kitchen to thank Mrs. Johnson for the breakfast, had given old Johnson a guinea, which had delighted them both, and then left the house by the back door which led into the Mews.

  ‘If I evade Irene for long enough,’ he told himself when he was free of the London traffic, ‘I am sure that she will tire of the pursuit and find somebody else to concentrate on.’

  It was a pleasant idea, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that she would not be so easily distracted from her objective.

  Now he thought about it seriously, he realised that there were not so many unattached men of the right age to offer her marriage.

  He knew that young girls belonging to the aristocracy were pushed up the aisle by their parents as early as possible. And the same applied to their sons as soon as they came of age.

  How they behaved afterwards was entirely their own business, but it was expected of a gentleman that he should enjoy himself, and those who constituted the Carlton House Set followed the example of the Prince Regent by being invariably engaged in a love affair with some delectable beauty or other.

  To have reached the age of thirty-two without being encumbered with a wife, was, Lord Heywood realised, almost unique.

  When he considered those who pursued Lady Irene ardently, there was hardly one, except himself, who was in a position to offer her marriage.

  There were several whom he considered ‘beardless boys’ younger than she was and, if she accepted their advances on a permanent basis, it would make her a laughing stock.

  ‘I have never thought of it before,’ he told himself with a wry smile, ‘but impoverished though I may be, I still have a certain value in the marriage market!’

  He had always despised the way that mothers, ambitious for their daughters, married them to dissolute Peers almost before they had left the schoolroom so that they could be what was called ‘settled in life’ and the more impressive the title, the more brilliant the marriage.

  It was never a case of their hearts being involved or love being part of the contract.

  “Love is something that comes after marriage and not before,” he had heard one cynic say and knew that as far as the Beau Monde was concerned it was true.

  ‘When I marry and it is very problematical whether I shall ever do so,’ Lord Heywood told himself, ‘it will be because I love the woman who is my wife, and who I am content to spend the rest of my life with.’

  He knew now that the one thing he would never tolerate was a wife who was unfaithful to him, any more than he would wish to be unfaithful to her.

  He knew that almost any man of his acquaintance, especially those who he had laughed with and talked to last night, would consider him a fool to have such ideas.

  And yet, although he had never spoken of them to anybody, they were there and because of it he would never marry except for love, however advantageous it might be from a worldly point of view.

  He had known perceptively, although Mr. Crosswaith was far too tactful to put it into words, what was at the back of the Solicitor’s mind as they talked over his difficulties.

  Lord Heywood could read his thoughts and knew that he was thinking, as they sat opposite each other, that as a presentable young man with a title and a house that was the envy of everybody who had ever seen it, it would be very easy for him to find a rich wife.

  And she would gladly pay off his debts and provide him with the comfort that he deserved after the long years of war.

  It seemed to Lord Heywood that Mr. Crosswaith almost said this aloud and with difficulty he had prevented himself from replying sharply that he had no intention of living on his wife’s money and adding that, if there was no other way of saving The Abbey, it would just have to tumble down on his head.

  Then Mr. Crosswaith had spoken about other issues and Lord Heywood forgot what he had been thinking.

  Now it was back in his mind and, as they reached the open road where he could give the horses their heads, he thought that he was gradually moving away from the menace that had seemed real to him while he was in London.

  But he was well aware that he had not yet escaped.

  He might have left Lady Irene’s letters unopened, but she had known that he had come to London and gone away again without seeing her and he could almost hear her voice saying passionately and fiercely,

  “We belong to each other, Romney, and I will never let you go!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lord Heywood, as he drove down the drive, thought that The Abbey was looking unusually beautiful despite the fact that the sky was overcast and threatening.

  It had been a hot day with little air and he had felt cooler when driving his horses very fast than when he had been forced to go more slowly.

  Now because he was home he felt as if the sun had come out and, although he knew that it was regrettably far from reality, The Abbey seemed to stand for security and safety. Over the last miles, as if they knew that their own stables were just ahead of them, Conqueror and his companion had moved faster without any encouragement from their driver.

  They swept in style round the gravel courtyard to come to a standstill at the bottom of the steps.

  As they did so, Carter came hurrying down them and, as he ran to the horses’ heads, he called out,

  “Welcome back, my Lord.”

  Lord Heywood put down the reins to step from the curricle, thinking as he did so that it was strange that there was no sign of Lalita.

  With a feeling that
struck him quite unawares he had a sudden fear that, just as she had arrived unannounced at The Abbey, she had left in the same way.

  He would have asked Carter where she was, but he was already walking the horses towards the stables.

  Then, as Lord Heywood started to climb the steps, there was a cry from the top of them and Lalita came dashing down towards him almost as if she was carried on wings.

  She met him halfway and, with an exclamation of joy that seemed to lilt on the air, she flung her arms around him, hugging him as a child might have done and kissed his cheek.

  “You are back!” she cried. “I was so afraid that you would be delayed and we would wait for you in vain.”

  She took her arms from around him to walk beside him into the hall, slipping her hand in his as she did so.

  “What happened?” she asked. “I must know.”

  There was something so young and eager in the way she spoke that, as Lord Heywood with his free hand put his hat down on the table, he felt, even though he had nothing very new or encouraging to relate, that it was somehow good news.

  “Come and tell me all about it,” Lalita suggested before he could speak. “I have everything ready for you in the writing room.”

  Still holding his hand, she pulled him towards it and, as he entered the room, Lord Heywood saw that there were vases of flowers on the tables and desk, a bottle of wine in an ice bucket and a large pitcher that he had not seen before.

  Lalita released his hand and went to the table.

  “You must be thirsty,” she said. “It has been very hot today and I am sure the roads were dusty.”

  The way she spoke told Lord Heywood that she had something to quench his thirst and he smiled as he replied,

  “You are quite right, I am thirsty.”

  “I was certain you would be,” Lalita said. “Carter was sure you would prefer wine, but I have my peach juice ready for you.”

  She looked at him anxiously as she spoke and he answered,

  “I can imagine nothing I would enjoy more.”

  She gave an exclamation of pleasure and came towards him with a cut glass tumbler in one hand and the pitcher in the other.

  As he settled himself in a comfortable chair and watched her pour the peach juice into the tumbler, Lord Heywood thought that he might be a married man returning home to a very attentive wife.

  He raised the glass to his lips and knew that Lalita was awaiting his verdict.

  “It is delicious,” he declared. “Really delicious! I have never tasted anything like it.”

  “I knew you – would be pleased,” she smiled.

  She waited until he had drunk some more of the juice and then topped up his glass before she took the pitcher back to the table.

  Then she ran back to him to sit, not in a chair at his side, but on the rug at his feet.

  She looked very young and very lovely as she raised her eyes to his to ask anxiously,

  “Were you successful?”

  “In obtaining a loan? No!”

  Her smile faded.

  “I prayed so very hard and I was so sure that my prayers – would be answered.”

  “Well, they may be in a less direct way,” Lord Heywood said. “I found some furniture and pictures at Heywood House, which I hope will bring in some money and a valuer will be looking at them this week.”

  “That is good.”

  “He will also be coming here and I have persuaded the Solicitors to pay the pensioners for this month, so it gives us a little breathing space.”

  “You have been clever, very clever – I can see that.”

  “Not as clever as I would like to be,” Lord Heywood answered, “but you must continue your prayers and hope that the valuer will find something worthwhile ”

  “I shall do that – you know I will.”

  Lalita then told him how busy she and Carter had been in the greenhouses.

  “We picked all the peaches that were ripe and Carter found some jars that he could bottle them in. In that way we can eat them when there is no longer any fruit in the garden.”

  The way she spoke told Lord Heywood that she was thinking about the winter and he told himself that she would certainly not be here with him then, but it would be unkind to say so.

  She chatted away, telling him things that were trivial, but to him interesting and he found himself just as much amused as he had been the day before by the gossip he had listened to in his Club.

  “Now tell me where you had luncheon and where you dined,” Lalita asked.

  She listened attentively as he described not only his friends but also the food he had eaten and some of the conversations that had taken place.

  “It all sounds very exciting,” she said when he had finished. “But did you not have time to go dancing – or visit some of your other – friends in their houses?”

  He knew by the way she hesitated over the words that what she wanted to say was ‘lady friends’.

  “I had a very pleasant evening,” he replied, “and when I left the Club I was ready to go to bed.”

  He thought he saw an expression of relief on Lalita’s face and then he told himself that he should not have to be accountable for his actions to a child who was staying with him as an uninvited guest.

  “I hope you did not have a very big luncheon,” she enquired, breaking in on his thoughts.

  “As a matter of fact I stopped in a small village. The horse I borrowed from the farm cast a shoe and, while it was being shod, I ate bread and cheese and drank a pewter of beer with the old cronies sitting outside.”

  “They must have enjoyed that,” Lalita said. “But Carter and I have a really gastronomic dinner for you tonight – so I want you to be hungry.”

  “I shall be,” Lord Heywood answered.

  He saw Lalita’s eyes light up and, almost as if even the weather brightened because he was home, the sun came out from behind the clouds and shone through the open windows to turn her hair to gold.

  She looked so pretty sitting at his feet that he thought she resembled the flowers that she had arranged in the vases, giving the room a beauty that he knew had been missing before.

  Then, as Lalita looked up at him as if she wondered what he was thinking, their eyes met and for a moment it was difficult for Lord Heywood to look away.

  *

  There was plenty to do before he went upstairs to change.

  In his bedroom he found that Carter had prepared a bath for him and afterwards, when he had dressed himself in the evening clothes that had belonged to his father and were larger and therefore slightly more comfortable than his own, he found himself looking forward to dinner with an eagerness that made him laugh at himself.

  ‘I should be depressed and worried by the failure of my mission to London,’ he thought.

  Instead he found himself appreciating The Abbey in a different way from how he had felt when he first returned.

  He might not be allowed to sell the pictures and furniture, but they were his for his lifetime.

  There might not be footmen in the hall and housemaids to sweep away the dust that was still accumulating behind the closed doors, but he had Carter and Lalita and for the moment he was content not to ask for anything more.

  When he entered the dining room, he realised at once how hard the two of them had worked to prepare a celebration dinner for his return.

  Tonight he was to eat at the big table instead of the little one in the window and in front of his high-backed chair which bore his Coat of Arms there was a large silver candelabrum holding six candles.

  There were also laid out on the table various silver ornaments which he had forgotten he possessed.

  They were shining brilliantly in the candlelight and Lord Heywood knew that Carter and Lalita must have expended a great deal of time in cleaning them.

  Lalita had just started lighting the candles in the dining room when he had come downstairs and he saw with a smile that she was wearing an evening gown that he had not
seen before and round her neck was a diamond necklace.

  There was also a diamond brooch in her hair and a bracelet of the same gems round her wrist. As he walked towards her, she curtseyed and there was a look of almost childish excitement on her face as if she was at a party.

  “You are certainly celebrating my homecoming in style,” Lord Heywood commented. “Thank you, Lalita.”

  “This is how your Lordship should always be served,” she said, “and tonight there must be no problems nor difficulties about the future and you must just enjoy yourself.”

  “That is what I intend to do,” he replied.

  He sat down at the table and found that there was a glass of Madeira already poured out for him.

  As he sipped it, he proposed,

  “I will drink your health, Lalita, and later I will thank you for what I can sense already is going to be a very special evening.”

  Carter, dressed in the Heywood livery with its crested silver buttons, came in with the first course and Lord Heywood guessed that it must have been Lalita who would be aware exactly what wine should go with each dish and had searched the cellar for them.

  When finally a bottle of champagne appeared with a peach sorbet, which Carter had made exceptionally well, Lord Heywood said,

  “I suppose you know that you have given me another clue. Your father must have enjoyed both good food and good wine for you to be so knowledgeable about it.”

  “That is true, but my grandfather taught me more than anybody else.”

  “I will make a note of it in my dossier about you.”

  “I have a feeling it does not yet consist of many pages!”

  “You would be surprised what I do know,” Lord Heywood replied, knowing it would make her curious.

  “A dossier should contain not only facts about my life but your estimation of my character,” she remarked.

  “Of course,” he agreed.

  “I have often wondered what you do think of – me.”

  Lord Heywood laughed,

  “This is the first time I have known you to be really feminine. All women are curious about themselves, but you appeared to be the exception.”

  “I am only curious about what you think,” Lalita answered, “and if you would like to give me an estimation of my character, I will reply with yours.”