Money or Love

by Barbara Cartland

  He was quite certain that he would be blamed for letting matters deteriorate so far without knowing about it.

  As he had not quizzed the Solicitors, they had been, as was correct, loyal to his father and no one had told him what was happening.

  The late Baronet had always been an exceedingly generous man and he had never denied himself anything he really wanted.

  He had bought the best horses and, as his friends commented mockingly, ‘he lived like a Lord’.

  There had always been a butler and six footmen at Dunstead Hall and it was very much the same in Dunstead House in Park Lane.

  The magnificent collection of paintings had been started by the second Baronet and then added to by each of his successors.

  The pictures were divided between the two houses and with walls groaning with such treasures, no one would believe that the present owner had no money to pay for his meals, let alone keep the two houses clean and tidy.

  *

  There was at the moment complete silence in the large study. It was where the late Baronet had always sat at his exquisite Regency writing table.

  As Sir Robin did not turn from the window, Alena, who had been quiet for some time, remarked,

  “There must be something that we can do. But in the meantime, Mr. Lawson, you are quite right in thinking we would not like everyone to know about the predicament we are in.”

  “You can trust me, Miss Alena. I need not tell you of my deep affection for your family and, although it may seem presumptuous, I am very fond of this house because it contains more treasures than any other house I have ever visited.”

  “Treasures are certainly here, but I am wondering how we can keep them clean and from falling off the walls as even the cords that hang them need replacing.”

  Alena spoke as if she was very close to tears.

  “I am certain,” Mr. Lawson added, “that Sir Robin will find some way of making money. After all he bears a distinguished and ancient name and I am sure that there are many Companies that would welcome him as a director.”

  Robin turned round.

  “I have been thinking of that. At the same time it would be a considerable disadvantage if they knew that the director who was there to help them in making money was himself completely penniless!”

  “I agree with you,” Mr. Lawson responded quickly. “That is why I have never breathed a word to anyone about your father’s position, although I and my partners have for some months felt that something should be done.”

  “I think I should have been told much earlier, but we will not talk about it now. My father is dead and I have taken his place. Somehow I have to keep my sister and myself alive and preserve the contents of this house and the one in London.”

  “You could possibly,” Mr. Lawson then suggested tentatively, “put the pictures into storage. Or loan them to one of our best museums.”

  “And make sure everyone is aware of our position? Of course I cannot do that. Besides the house itself, as you well know, is part of our British heritage.”

  Mr. Lawson made a helpless gesture with his hands, but he did not say anything further.

  “What I am going to ask now is that you leave copies of my father’s will for me and my sister and the list of everything that is entailed in both our houses and, as you have just promised, on no account tell anyone of our present situation.”

  “I promise you, Sir Robin.”

  “We need to talk things over between ourselves and, when we have come to a conclusion, we will contact you.”

  Realising that he was now dismissed, Mr. Lawson rose from the table saying,

  “I can only offer you my deepest sympathy as well as my condolences and I assure you that I will help you in any way I possibly can.”

  There was a faint smile on his lips as he added,

  “In fact, to be very practical, we will not send you a bill for our services during the last six months until you are in a position to pay it.”

  “I am most grateful,” replied Robin.

  He escorted Mr. Lawson to the door, shook him by the hand and left him to find his own way out.

  He then turned to face his sister.

  “What are we going to do, Alena? What the devil can we do?”

  “I was just wondering the same, Robin, and in fact praying that we shall come up with some good ideas.”

  “I suppose,” he asked, walking to the mantelpiece, “there is no point in looking round the house.”

  “After what Mr. Lawson has said, I should think it would be a waste of time. I was just looking at this list he left us of the items that have been sold lately including most of the silver. I am quite certain that the George III tea-set will be entailed and so will the silver and gold plates.”

  Her brother sighed.

  “It’s no use making ourselves miserable looking at that list, Alena. What we have to do now is think of how we can make money, which I suspect at least half the men in England are doing at this very moment!”

  “Well, what quite a number are doing, especially those with titles, is going to America and looking for an heiress. As you have been away for so long you probably haven’t heard about it.”

  Her brother stared at her.

  “Looking for an heiress?”

  “It has lately been the smart thing in New York for an American heiress to marry an Italian Prince, if one is available, or a French Duc.”

  “It makes me feel quite sick – in any case I suppose as a mere Baronet I would not qualify.”

  “The girls at school were very thrilled when Prince Colonna became engaged to an American heiress, and the newspapers in Florence reported that the list of American ladies marrying Italian Nobles was too long to be printed in one issue.”

  Robin laughed, as Alena added,

  “Your Baronetcy, plus the pictures, should count up to a million or two!”

  “The whole idea horrifies me, Alena, but I did read in the Indian newspapers that Jennie Jerome, whoever she is, has married Lord Randolph Churchill.”

  “And Lord Craven, who I think Papa knew, married an American heiress.”

  “If you are insinuating that I should be a fortune-hunter, I take it as a gross insult. I have no intention of marrying anyone and certainly not a woman who is only interested in my title!”

  Alena smiled at the violence in his voice, but did not reply.

  “If it comes to that, Alena, how about you marrying a millionaire? After all you are a very pretty girl and you are bound to receive many proposals so, if we are lucky, the man you accept could help us restore the two houses.”

  “He would already have a house of his own,” Alena objected. “But, like you, I have no intention of marrying for money – only for love.”

  “I have an idea that love is going to be something neither of us can afford, but I have no intention of hawking my Baronetcy around in the hope that some American will take a fancy to it!”

  “Seriously, Robin, we have to do something. We cannot just stay here and wait for the roof to fall in on our heads. And the same applies to the house in London.

  “I drove past it today on my way here and thought how fine the old family home looked from the outside even though the windows were all shuttered.”

  She drew in her breath.

  “It is most unfair and I feel angry about it. Before I went off to Florence Papa promised he would give a ball for me when I became a debutante and that is exactly what I should be at this moment.”

  “Papa must have known, even then, that it was a luxury he could not afford.”

  “I expect there was something still left in the house he could sell,” Alena remarked practically. “There seems to be so many gaps on the walls now that he must have sold enough to give a dozen balls if I had been in England.”

  Robin threw himself down onto an armchair.

  “If you are moaning about a ball you cannot have, I am feeling miserable that the stables are empty. When I was in India I used to dream
of the Racecourse and how I enjoyed taking Papa’s excellent horses over the jumps – I was always planning to build them higher and have even better bred horses when I took over the estate.”

  “I know exactly what you must be feeling,” Alena sympathised, “and as I feel the same, we can cry together, but that is not going to do any good. We must be practical and find some way to preserve our heritage and especially the pictures.”

  She looked up at St. George striking the dragon.

  She mused that if poverty was an enemy they could fight it like a living creature and it would make their lives so much easier.

  “I suppose,” Robin reflected, “that if we took one of these pictures abroad and sold it, we would be caught by the suspicious Trustees and doubtless convicted of theft.”

  “You can bet we would, Robin, and you heard Mr. Lawson state that the Trustees come round the two houses every month. A missing picture would be the first thing they would notice and they would make a big hue and cry.”

  She gave a laugh before she added,

  “Don’t forget that as Head of the family you cannot possibly allow a scandal of any sort.”

  “It would certainly be a huge scandal all right if we die of starvation!” Robin countered sarcastically.

  Alena shrugged her shoulders.

  “I expect there are some potatoes in the garden if nothing else.”

  Robin rose from the armchair.

  “Damn it!” he exploded. “I am not going to die of starvation, nor am I going to sit here just thinking it a pity that our Papa has spent every penny we possessed. It was wrong and wicked of him, but you and I are not going to behave like nincompoops who don’t even have the strength to save ourselves.”

  Alena clapped her hands.

  “That’s the way I like you to talk, Robin, and I feel quite certain you will find a solution of some kind.”

  There was silence until Robin exclaimed,

  “I think I have an idea!”

  “What can it be, Robin?”

  “I am just working it out. But I would doubt if you will agree to it – ”

  “I’ll agree to anything that improves our situation. And I’d prefer it to be something active. There is nothing worse than sitting and waiting for a calamity to strike one.”

  “I think this calamity has already struck us, Alena, and that is why I must do something positive – something that no one would expect.”

  “I agree, of course I do – but what is it?”

  “I was just thinking,” he began slowly, “that, when you talked about Englishmen with titles looking for a rich bride in America, they are going the wrong way about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s degrading for a man to sell his title and even more degrading to admit that he has to do so.”

  “Of course, that is true, Robin, but the Italians have cashed in on it and the English are now following them. I suspect that all you need to do is to visit New York.”

  “I still say it’s going the wrong way about it. What they should be doing is to staying here in England and making the American heiresses seek them.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about, Robin, and how can this idea of yours affect us?”

  “What I am thinking is that now Papa has died I am the ninth Baronet, which would seem very romantic to a large number of women if I was also a rich man – with a magnificent house in London and a famous art collection known all over the world.”

  “Well, you most certainly have the pictures,” agreed Alena, “but the houses that hang the pictures are dilapidated and your guests for dinner will hardly be amused to be served a poor menu with only water to drink!”

  “That will not be the case if they come to England to meet me or are here already, as I suspect some of them are. They will all come to Dunstead House in London and be received in the hall by the same number of liveried staff as there were when I was a boy.

  “The cuisine will be just superb and the champagne sparkling. The host will be waiting for them to admire his pictures, his way of living and, of course, himself!”

  “Well, that is a delightful daydream, Robin, but just like fairy gold it vanishes when you touch it! And who is going to pay for the footmen and the fine champagne?”

  “That’s the only snag, Alena. We must think how it can be done. Then I will open your Season in London by throwing a ball for you.”

  “I think you are raving mad. You could not afford to pay the orchestra nor could I afford to buy a new gown. Oh, Robin, do let’s talk sense.”

  “I am talking sense,” he insisted. “It’s what I am intending to do, although first of all I have to think how I can somehow raise the money to be able to achieve it.”

  Alena stared at him.

  “Are you really serious?”

  “I am deadly serious. I have no intention of going around in rags and tatters and asking the rich folk that you and I have to marry to be sorry for us.”

  “So I come into it too!” exclaimed Alena.

  “Of course you do, but you have to marry someone who can afford to keep you. And naturally he must be in love with you. In the meantime you are not going to have a proposal from anyone, even the dustman, down here.”

  He drew a deep breath and went on positively,

  “We are going to London and we are going to open up the house. As your father’s daughter a great number of people will be only too delighted to invite you to endless parties, where you will go suitably attired.”

  “And who is going to pay for my gowns?”

  “I am – as soon as I can get hold of some money.”

  “And just how are you going to do so?”

  “It is just a question of managing for a short time, then when we marry money, we can pay it all back.”

  “I still think the whole idea is mad, Robin. If, as I suspect, you are going to do something illegal to obtain the money, then we shall both end up, if not in prison, at least in disgrace. And no one will speak to us for the rest of our lives!”

  She spoke very passionately and to her surprise her brother laughed.

  “I was very certain that was what you would think, but you are wrong and you are going to do it all my way. I promise you that if we fail, it will be sheer stupidity on our part and not because we don’t have the opportunity we are looking for.”

  “What opportunity, Robin?”

  Her sank down beside her on the sofa and took her hand in his.

  “Now listen to me, Alena, you and I are practical people. We have to face the fact that neither of us can live without money. The only way is to marry it.”

  He paused before he added,

  “But I am not crawling around kissing someone’s feet because they are made of gold – and nor are you. If you do it my way, people will become interested in you, first because you are from a good family – ”

  He looked intently at Alena before he continued,

  “They will all be bowled over when they see how beautiful you are, and lastly, although it will seem of little consequence, they will accept you as an equal because if they have money, you have it too.”

  “Very plausible, Robin, but quite impractical – ”

  “I don’t think so and I just refuse to be a poor man tapping on the back door. If we fail we will go down in a cloud of glory, not just slip away humbly and grateful for any scraps that may fall from the rich man’s table.”

  “That I admit would be very unpleasant, but I still cannot understand how we can possibly open the house in Park Lane or hold a ball for me.”

  “It is what you have been promised and it is what you are going to have. If we take risks together, it will not be as frightening as if we take them on our own.”

  “Risks! What risks?”

  “I was just now wondering, dear Alena, whether I should tell you the truth or keep you in ignorance – ”

  “You cannot keep me in ignorance,” she protested. “I suppose, however much I a
rgue, I will do anything you think will help us out of this appalling and scary situation.”

  “That is just what it is. As I have already told you, we could easily crawl away and hide here in misery. I can shoot some rabbits and you can do the cooking. Everyone will be sorry for us, but will do little or nothing to help.”

  Alena shivered, as she knew it was the truth.

  If they stayed in this huge house with no servants, it was very doubtful whether any of their neighbours would be interested in them.

  Certainly their so-called friends in London would take their names off their guest lists.

  “Now tell me the way out,” she murmured.

  “Well, what we are going to do is look around the house and find one of the least noticeable and, I suppose, least important of the famous pictures.”

  Alena gave a cry.

  “You are not touching them. You know as well as I do that they are inspected by the Trustees every month and, if you are thinking of selling one, they will come down on us like a ton of bricks.”

  “Not if I do it my way – ”

  “And what is your way then?”

  “Strangely enough, when I was sailing home in the ship from Calcutta, there was a man on board – an Italian – who is a brilliant artist and to amuse the passengers he did some portraits of them and they were delighted.”

  “I am not surprised.”

  “When I talked to him, Alena, I found he had gone out to India not only to paint pictures which he could sell, but also to make replicas of one or two of the portraits of the first Viceroys that had been damaged by the heat and lack of proper attention.

  “He showed me a copy of the portrait he had made of the first Viceroy, Lord Canning.

  “I remember reading about him.”

  “I had to admit that the way he had copied it was brilliant. He was taking it back to England to be hung in the War Office and I swear that it would be impossible for anyone to know that it had not been painted by the original artist.”

  He could see Alena’s eyes widening and continued,

  “In addition he told me that he had restored ,or rather reproduced, one of William Pitt as Prime Minister. It had been damaged by the servants. When his reproduction was hung, it was impossible for anyone to know it was not the original painting.”