203. Love Wins

by Barbara Cartland

  He was dragging Lalita, as he spoke, through the front door. She was resisting him, but he was very strong and pulled her forward despite every effort she made to prevent him.

  “I insist on your hearing what I have to say,” Lord Heywood said.

  He had followed them out through the front door and was standing at the top of the steps while Edward Duncan had already started to descend, dragging Lalita after him.

  “Stand back or you will be sorry!” he yelled.

  He jerked Lalita’s arm as he spoke and, because she was still pulling against him, her foot slipped and she staggered and fell forward.

  As she did so, Lord Heywood leapt onto Edward Duncan.

  He went down with a crash on the steps and the weight of Lord Heywood’s body cracked his head violently against the edge of one of the stone steps.

  It knocked him unconscious and the pistol fell from his hand with a clatter.

  Lord Heywood rose to his feet, picked the unconscious man up in his arms and carried him down the remaining steps to the side of the phaeton.

  He flung him on the floor of the vehicle and said to the man holding the reins,

  “Take that swine away and make sure he does not come back.”

  “You have no right to treat my father in such a way,” the man replied nervously.

  “If he is your father, then I am sorry for you,” Lord Heywood replied. “Now get off my land and the quicker the better!”

  He spoke in a tone that apparently frightened Philip Duncan into obeying him.

  He brought the whip down hard on his horses and they leapt forward with one of Edward Duncan’s legs dangling out of the phaeton as he lay unconscious at his son’s feet.

  Lord Heywood watched them go, then he bent down and picked up the pistol that lay on the bottom step and turned to see Lalita standing above him.

  She was very pale and obviously extremely frightened.

  “You – saved me!” she cried. “I – thought he would – take me – away!”

  She sounded not far from tears, but the expression on Lord Heywood’s face, she saw apprehensively, was neither compassionate nor tender.

  Holding the pistol in his hand he walked up the steps.

  When he was level with her, he said and she thought that his voice was grim,

  “You have a lot of explaining to do, Lalita, and I want to hear the truth – now!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lord Heywood walked across the hall and into the writing room.

  Lalita followed him, wondering frantically if everything that she had planned had gone wrong and now she would lose all that mattered to her in the world.

  She closed the door of the writing room behind her and stood looking at Lord Heywood, her eyes filling her whole face and mirroring her apprehension.

  She was still trembling a little from her terror of being forcibly taken away by her uncle and she wanted to run to Lord Heywood and hide her face against his shoulder and feel his arms go round her.

  Without looking at her he said,

  “I think I remember now a General Duncan who lived about six miles from here.”

  “That was – my grandfather.”

  “He commanded the Coldstream Guards?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you not tell me about him?”

  “Grandpapa was dead and – you have seen Uncle Edward. As I told you, he is – determined to – marry me to his son – Philip.”

  “Because you are an heiress?”

  Lalita walked a little nearer to him and then, because she felt as if she might fall down, she seated herself on the edge of one of the armchairs.

  “At first,” she said in a very small voice, “I was – afraid you would send me – back. Then when you were so – insistent that you would not – accept money from – a woman I could not – tell you that I was – wealthy.”

  Lord Heywood did not speak and Lalita cried out as if she could not prevent the words coining from her lips,

  “Please – please marry me! Now that I – love you, I could not go away and live alone – and surely love – is more important than – money?”

  She clasped her hands together as she spoke and the tears came into her eyes with the intensity of her feelings.

  Lord Heywood did not look at her as he said,

  “You told me this morning that you would tell me the whole story tonight. Is that what you would have done?”

  Lalita could not answer him and after a moment he added,

  “I have the idea that actually you intended to marry me without letting me be aware that you are an heiress?”

  As this was the truth, Lalita could not deny it and after a moment she said still in a small frightened voice,

  “Shall I tell you what – actually – happened?”

  “That is what I wish to know.”

  “My father met my mother, who was American and came from the South, when she was in England on a visit. They fell very – very much in love with – each other.”

  Lalita’s voice softened on the last words and she looked appealingly at Lord Heywood as if she felt that what she was saying must mean something to him.

  He did not speak and she went on,

  “They were married, but it was some time after the War with the French had started and it was too dangerous for Mama to journey to America and anyway Papa was in the Coldstream Guards.”

  “So she stayed in England and you were born here,” Lord Heywood suggested.

  Lalita nodded.

  “I think that even Papa forgot that Mama was American and, although she wrote to her father and mother, the letters were often delayed for a long time and when much later England was actually at war with America they ceased altogether.”

  “I can understand that,” Lord Heywood remarked.

  “Then Papa was wounded in the leg and invalided out of the Regiment,” Lalita went on, “and as Grandmama had died and Grandpapa was retired, we went to live with him at The Manor House – where I have been ever since.”

  “Where is it exactly?”

  “At Little Sheldon. It’s a very small village.”

  “I remember it now,” Lord Heywood remarked.

  “It is about six miles from here by road – but a very much shorter distance if one rides cross country.”

  There was just a faint smile on Lord Heywood’s lips as he said,

  “I imagine that is how you knew so much about my estate.”

  “I used to ride here to look at the house,” Lalita said, “and because it was beautiful I used to tell myself stories about it. When your grandfather died – I wondered what – you were like.”

  She paused and after a moment Lord Heywood said,

  “Go on!”

  “After Waterloo when hostilities had ceased, Mama received a letter from America to say that her father was dead and – had left her all his money.”

  “He was a rich man?” Lord Heywood asked.

  “Very rich,” Lalita said, “and, as it was important that Mama should go and see what she now owned, she and Papa set off – leaving me with Grandpapa.”

  “Was that about two years ago?” Lord Heywood asked.

  “As it was in August, it was a little under two years ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “The ship they were returning in – foundered and – everybody on board was – drowned.”

  Lalita’s voice broke and Lord Heywood took a step forward and then checked himself.

  With what he thought was a superhuman effort at self-control Lalita went on,

  “Mama had already written to Grandpapa telling him how much – money she had – inherited and explaining that, as I was her only child, it would all – eventually come to – me.”

  “And what did your grandfather think about that?”

  “He was not very pleased,” Lalita answered. “He said to me, ‘this means you will have every damned fortune-hunter in England knocking on your door. So to make sure that doe
s not happen – we will say nothing whatever about it’.”

  “Your grandfather was wise and when he died I presume that was where your Uncle Edward took over.”

  “That is exactly what did happen,” Lalita agreed. “I suppose Grandpapa’s Solicitors must have told him, for he arrived at The Manor saying that he was my Guardian – and I must do whatever he told me to do.”

  “Had you seen much of him before that?”

  “No, because Grandpapa had never approved of him, firstly because he would not join the Regiment and fight during the War, with the excuse that he was not well enough to do so, and secondly because he was very extravagant and – was always asking Grandpapa to pay his debts.”

  “I can understand your grandfather had no wish for him to know about you.”

  “Grandpapa did not wish – anybody to know. He intended this year to take me to London and let me go to some of the balls and parties, but he was taken ill and so all our plans had to be postponed.”

  “Did you mind very much?”

  “No, I was quite happy at The Manor. I had horses to ride, plenty of pretty gowns and, if Grandpapa was frightened of fortune-hunters, so was I!”

  “But you must have wanted to get married?”

  “Only if I fell – in love.”

  Lalita gave a little cry as she added,

  “Can you imagine what I felt when Uncle Edward brought Philip with him to The Manor and told me we were to be – married? I think that he had learned from the Solicitors who had been in touch with the Trustees of my grandfather’s estate in America that the only way he could gain control of my money was if I – married his son.”

  Lord Heywood was certain that this indeed was the truth and he said,

  “Then, because you were frightened of your uncle and of having to marry your cousin, you ran away.”

  “I was very – very – frightened. I felt that Uncle Edward would stop at – nothing to force me to – marry Philip, so I came – here.”

  Lord Heywood thought that in fact rather clever of her to have reckoned that few people would suspect that she would hide herself away in an empty house with nobody to look after her and obviously difficulty in providing herself with food.

  As if she could read his thoughts, Lalita said,

  “Then – you came home – and everything has been so – wonderful ever since and I have never – known such happiness.”

  She rose to her feet and moved towards Lord Heywood.

  “You cannot send me – away now,” she said pleadingly. “You cannot refuse to – marry me. You need not use my money, you can just forget about it – but I cannot live – without you.”

  The tears were back in her eyes and her voice was almost incoherent.

  Lord Heywood looked at her and slowly his arms went out towards her.

  She gave a little cry and threw herself against him.

  As she did so, the door of the writing room opened and a man’s voice called out,

  “Excuse me, but, as I found it impossible to make anybody hear me either by ringing the bell or by knocking at the door, I came in.”

  Both Lalita and Lord Heywood turned to look at the intruder in surprise.

  He was a short grey-haired man wearing glasses and looking like a respectable schoolmaster.

  Lord Heywood took his arms from Lalita and walked towards the newcomer.

  “I am afraid my servant is out, but I am Lord Heywood. Were you wishing to see me?”

  “Yes, indeed, my Lord, and I must apologise for my intrusion and for arriving unannounced.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Walton, my Lord. I have come to see you on the instructions of Messrs. Christie’s the auctioneers and I am their valuer.”

  “Of course,” Lord Heywood exclaimed. “I asked them to send one, but I was not expecting you to arrive so quickly.”

  “I am aware of that, my Lord, but, as my business with your Lordship is very urgent, I came down from London last night, having just missed you before you left Heywood House.”

  “Come and sit down,” Lord Heywood suggested, “and tell me why your business is so urgent. I did ask the partner I spoke to at Christie’s to send somebody down as soon as possible, but I expected them to inspect Heywood House before they came here.”

  “That is what I have to explain to your Lordship,” Mr. Walton said.

  He walked forward as he spoke and sat down on the nearest chair, a briefcase in his hand.

  Lalita who had been surreptitiously wiping the tears from her eyes, now sat on the other side of the fireplace while Lord Heywood stood with his back to it.

  “I came as far as the next village last night,” Mr. Walton said conversationally. “I was hoping to reach your Lordship immediately after breakfast this morning, but I was involved on my way here in a very nasty accident.”

  “An accident?” Lord Heywood questioned.

  “Yes, my Lord. I met a phaeton driven in a crazy manner by a young man who had no control over his horses. In an effort to avoid the post chaise I was travelling in, he crashed into the narrow bridge on the outskirts of your village.”

  As he spoke, Lalita rose from where she was sitting to stand beside Lord Heywood.

  “What happened?” Lord Heywood enquired.

  “It was all very unpleasant, my Lord,” Mr. Walton replied. “The phaeton turned against the corner of the bridge and an elderly man who was also travelling in it was thrown into the stream below.”

  Mr. Walton paused to take his spectacles from his eyes and polish the lenses with his handkerchief.

  As if she could not bear the suspense, Lalita put her hand on Lord Heywood’s arm and he covered it with his.

  “Was the man who was thrown into the water injured?” he asked quietly.

  “I regret to tell you, my Lord,” Mr. Walton replied, “that by the time the body, which had floated downstream, was recovered, the gentleman was dead.”

  Lalita’s lips parted, but no sound came from them.

  Mr. Walton put his spectacles back on his nose.

  “There was nothing I could do,” he carried on, “and, as the Vicar and several sensible-looking villagers appeared, I drove on, as I was anxious to see your Lordship as quickly as possible.”

  Lalita gave a deep sigh and Lord Heywood knew that it was one of relief.

  If her uncle was dead, then the trouble he could have caused them no longer existed.

  Lalita’s eyes as she looked up at Lord Heywood were very revealing and, as he smiled at her, she felt as if the sun enveloped them both and the darkness had gone.

  She felt that his fingers on hers were also very comforting.

  Mr. Walton, quite unaware of the sensation he had unknowingly caused, was opening his briefcase.

  “After you left Christie's yesterday, my Lord,” he resumed, “a senior partner was informed that the Ambassador of a country that for the moment must remain anonymous had presented us with a rather unusual assignment.”

  “What is that?” Lord Heywood asked.

  “This country, which will have a very much more significant role in European affairs since the Congress of Vienna, wishes to build a new Embassy in London. They told us that as its completion will take several years, they wish meantime, to rent an imposing house where they can conduct their country’s business.”

  There was a sudden glint of excitement in Lord Heywood’s eyes, but he said nothing as Mr. Walton went on slowly and rather ponderously,

  “The Partners of Christie’s, my Lord, could think of no house more suitable than your own, if your Lordship would be prepared to let it at what I am told is a very generous rent exactly as it stands.”

  “By that you mean with all its contents,” Lord Heywood asked,

  “The partner your Lordship spoke to yesterday gathered that it is ready, as one might say, for occupation, and that would be a considerable convenience both to the tenants and to my firm.”

  “I am certainly prepared to let Heywood
House as it stands,” Lord Heywood said.

  He tried to speak dispassionately, but he could not prevent a slightly eager note creeping into his voice.

  “That is a very great relief, my Lord,” Mr. Walton replied. “I have here a draft Lease for your Lordship’s perusal, which, of course, you would wish to show to your Solicitors before signing.”

  “Of course,” Lord Heywood agreed.

  Then, as if he felt in some way that he must celebrate this unexpected good fortune, he said,

  “I must apologise, Mr. Walton, for not offering you some refreshment It is what I am sure you need after your traumatic experience on your way here.”

  “Thank you, my Lord,” Mr. Walton replied “It was, I admit, a trifle upsetting.”

  “What would you like?” Lord Heywood enquired. “A glass of sherry?”

  Mr. Walton shook his head

  “I am afraid, my Lord, I am a teetotaller. Alcohol I find disagrees with me.”

  Lord Heywood looked at Lalita.

  “I am sure that what Mr. Walton would enjoy,” he suggested, “is a glass of your peach juice.”

  “Yes, of course,” she smiled.

  Her eyes were shining and for the moment she could think of nothing but the joy of knowing that if Lord Heywood could let his house in London he would not feel that he was entirely dependent on her money

  As she left the writing room and ran along the passage, her heart was singing and she was saying a little prayer of gratitude,

  ‘Thank You, God, thank You. I am now sure that he will not refuse to marry me.’

  As she reached the kitchen, she remembered that she had put the peach juice down in the cellar to keep cool.

  She ran down the stone steps, picked up the pitcher from the flagged floor and hesitated for a moment wondering if she should also bring a bottle of wine for Lord Heywood.

  Then she was sure that however much he would wish to celebrate he would not wish to drink so early in the morning.

  Instead she carried the heavy pitcher carefully back to the writing room, anxious not to upset its contents.

  When she entered the room, Lord Heywood was sitting at his desk with some papers in front of him and Mr. Walton was standing beside him.