Money or Love

by Barbara Cartland

It passed through her mind they would have to let the house fall down and they could move into a cottage if there was one left in any sort of reasonable repair.

  Even then they had to eat.

  Once again it would be a question of a rabbit, if one could afford to shoot one, or setting a trap every day.

  ‘I cannot bear it,’ she screamed inwardly.

  Robin had been silent, knowing what was turning over in her mind.

  He now rose to his feet.

  “Mr. Finberg said if he was back from Birmingham in time for tea he would call then or perhaps a little later. He hoped we would both join him for dinner this evening.”

  He walked towards the door.

  “And that is one good meal I have no intention of missing. In the meantime I will have seen Mary-Lee.”

  He did not wait for Alena to reply but left the room.

  She put both her hands over her eyes.

  What could she do?

  How could she face such a situation without having to cry out at the horror of it all?

  The door opened and her maid came in.

  “I were just about to call on you, Miss Alena,” she said, “when I sees Sir Robin was with you, so I waited till he left. Mr. Burley asked me to tell you that Mr. Thurston be here and has gone up to the Picture Gallery.”

  Alena was about to say she must hurry as she was keeping him waiting.

  Then she had an idea. She jumped quickly out of her bed and ran to the French secretaire that stood in a corner of her bedroom and hurriedly wrote a note.

  It read,

  “I want to show you the pictures at Dunstead Hall in the country.

  As it is such a lovely day, could you possibly find a carriage of some sort to take us there?

  If you can, I will order a picnic luncheon, which we can eat on the way.

  Alena.”

  She put the note in an envelope and addressed it to Vincent.

  Then she gave it to the maid.

  “Take this to Mr. Thurston and wait for an answer. Tell him that I overslept and am only just dressing.”

  “I’ll do that, miss.”

  She took the note and left the room.

  Alena stood looking out of the window, thinking it would take them some time to reach Dunstead Hall and a long time there as Vincent would wish to see all the pictures.

  If she managed to linger a little on the way back, she would not be here when Chuck Finberg arrived to propose to her.

  Even as she thought of it, she knew that was not the right word.

  Robin had already proposed to Chuck Finberg on her behalf and he had accepted.

  ‘How can I do it? How can I do such a thing?’ she was asking herself again.

  The maid seemed to be away a long time and Alena was already half dressed when she returned,

  “Mr. Thurston has gone off to find what you asked him to find, miss, and he said I was to tell you it were quite easy and he’ll be back in half-an-hour.”

  Alena was surprised, but she did not say so.

  He had been so knowledgeable on art and paintings and she supposed he also knew where he could hire a horse and carriage.

  She put on her prettiest new dress with a little coat to wear over it in case she was cold.

  Then she arranged one of her new hats on her head.

  She hoped Vincent would admire her in it and not think it overly smart.

  She felt excited at the idea of going out with him and then she remembered it might be for the last time.

  He would not be at all interested in her if she was engaged to Chuck Finberg.

  And he would be horrified at ten of their precious pictures going to America even on loan.

  Alena was sure that there would be a tremendous row when the Trustees found out what was happening.

  She supposed that Robin would say nothing to them until they were well away from England on the Atlantic.

  Then she felt that they might be more appeased by the fact that if Robin had money, he would be able to clean and restore the pictures that were left – and to do more than he had done already to repair the house in London and then make a start on the one in the country.

  ‘It is all about money, money, money!’ she thought. ‘I hate to think about it and I hate to be without it!’

  The maid handed her a handbag.

  Alena had earlier sent her downstairs to tell Burley that she wanted a luncheon picnic basket for two.

  She had no idea if there was a picnic basket in the house, but she knew Burley in his usual subtle way would provide her with whatever she required.

  It flashed through her mind that if she refused to marry Chuck Finberg, Burley would have to be sacked.

  He had done so much for them already and he was obviously enjoying being at Dunstead House.

  He would have to go back to White’s or find other employment and, of course, everyone in the house would be affected.

  Alena felt as if they were all pleading with her to do what Robin wanted.

  It was finally with an effort that she managed to walk quietly down the stairs.

  She went into the study to await Vincent’s arrival.

  She did not have to wait long.

  She had only just sat down at the desk and started opening some of the letters, nearly all of them acceptances or refusals for the ball.

  Then Burley came in to announce,

  “Mr. Thurston is here, Miss Alena. As he doesn’t want to leave the horses, will you kindly go out to him?”

  Alena jumped up eagerly.

  “Yes, of course, I will. Thank you, Burley.”

  She hurried down the passage, across the hall and out through the front door.

  As she saw what was waiting for her outside, her eyes widened.

  She had expected Vincent to hire a carriage that was reasonably comfortable and drawn by two horses.

  Outside stood a smart and up-to-date chaise drawn by four horses that were well matched and well bred.

  Vincent was in the driving seat holding the reins.

  Alena climbed up beside him, seeing with a sense of relief that there was no groom.

  “I’ve put the picnic basket in the back, miss,” said Burley. “I hopes you’ll have a happy day in the country.”

  “I am sure we will, Burley.”

  As they drove off, she turned to Vincent,

  “Wherever did you find these magnificent horses? How could you be so clever?”

  Vincent smiled.

  “Good morning, my beautiful Goddess. How could I offer you anything but the best?”

  “How did you manage it?” Alena persisted.

  “It was easier than it would have been on any other day. My father had to come up to London yesterday as the Prime Minister asked to see him and so I knew he would not be needing the horses today and I just helped myself!”

  “Then it’s so lucky for us and I must congratulate your father, if I ever meet him, on his horseflesh.”

  “I am enjoying driving them and now you will have to tell me the way. I cannot believe, as your brother said, that these pictures are better than the ones in London.”

  “I am sure you will think so when you see them.”

  “But what is more important, Alena, is that I shall have you to myself for the whole day with no interruptions. It is something I have dreamt of happening, but could not believe that I would be so fortunate – ”

  Alena did not answer him.

  She was wondering if Vincent would be genuinely upset if she told him why she was running away and from whom.

  Would he be that horrified at the idea of her being forced into marriage and that he was losing her?

  Or would it merely be because he could no longer paint her or spend so much time in the Picture Gallery?

  Almost as if Vincent was aware of her thoughts, he remarked,

  “Now this is to be a very happy day. You are not to worry about anything.”

  “How did you know I was worrying, Vincent?”
>
  “I feel I know everything about you, dear Alena. I am painting not only the perfection in your face and the beauty in your eyes, but also what you think and feel in your mind and in your heart.”

  Alena gave a little cry.

  “You must not. I must have thoughts and feelings that are my own and private.”

  “Not from me,” replied Vincent. “I will explain to you later, but just for the moment let’s enjoy the sunshine and the speed these horses are travelling at.”

  They were already moving out of the town traffic and into the suburbs.

  Then there were the first fields and the City was left far behind.

  Soon they were on a road with no traffic on it at all and Vincent gave the horses their heads.

  They moved so fast that Alena was obliged to take off her hat and put it down on the floor at her feet.

  Now the wind was blowing through her hair she felt suddenly free, as if she had left all her difficulties and all her problems behind in the City.

  They drove without stopping until it was getting on for one o’clock.

  Then Alena pointed out a wood just ahead.

  “I know that wood, Vincent. If you turn to the right when we reach it, there is a place in the centre of it where there is a large pool. The horses can drink there and in the woodman’s hut we might find a rustic table on which to set out our luncheon.”

  Vincent smiled at her.

  “That is another reason why I admire you so much. You are very practical and think out every detail, which is highly unusual in a woman.”

  “It is a lesson I was first taught at school,” Alena said, “and something I have practised since I came home.”

  “I know.”

  She wondered what Vincent meant, but, at that very moment, they arrived at the wood and she was occupied showing him the direction he should go.

  There was a rough track, but it was negotiable and at the end of it they found, as Alena had predicted, the pool and a woodman’s hut.

  They made sure that the horses had plenty to drink.

  Vincent brought the picnic-basket from the carriage and two other baskets that Burley had provided,

  There was a patch of grass not far from the pool, so Alena spread out the tablecloth and put the food on it.

  Vincent opened the bottle of champagne.

  “We ought to cool it first in the pool,” he said, “but I am feeling thirsty.”

  “So am I, and hungry, even though I had breakfast late.”

  “I am glad you slept so well, Alena.”

  “Actually I had difficulty going to sleep.”

  Vincent gave a laugh.

  “That is what I have been suffering from ever since I met you.”

  “I think really you lie awake ruminating about your picture and not me,” Alena teased him.

  “I have found it difficult to think of anything else but you ever since I first saw you.”

  “I want to believe you, Vincent, but I am quite sure you say these charming words to every one of your models, which just is what I am at the moment.”

  “The one model that really matters – ”

  They enjoyed their luncheon on the grass.

  Then Alena tidied up the empty plates and dishes and they just had their champagne glasses left.

  “What made you suddenly decide to invite me to go to the country today?” Vincent asked. “I have been hoping and praying for this invitation, but frightened you would forget.”

  “I am running away,” Alena announced.

  “I can guess who from – ”

  Alena looked at him sharply.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I do know what your brother is planning and I am praying you will be brave enough to refuse him.”

  “What are you saying? What do you mean?” Alena asked him anxiously.

  “I know that Robin wants you to marry this Chuck Finberg for his money.”

  “How do you know?” she questioned, looking away from him.

  “Because your brother is determined that you must marry a very rich man, just as he wants to marry Mary-Lee Vanderhart.”

  Alena stared at him in astonishment.

  “How can you know all this? Who has told you?”

  “My father had a friend who knew your father well. He told my father that Sir Edward Dunstead borrowed one hundred pounds from him when they staying in Paris. He told him frankly he would only pay it back if he could find something to sell when he returned home – and that was extremely unlikely.”

  Alena was listening wide-eyed as Vincent went on,

  “It happened a week before your father went down with his illness, and, of course, my father’s friend never did receive his money back.”

  “So you knew all along,” Alena said in a very small voice, “that there was nothing to sell that was not entailed and we were penniless.”

  “I knew,” he agreed, “and I was at first astonished when you and your brother appeared in London. Then I realised that no one but me was aware of the state of the house in Park Lane.”

  “Robin managed to raise just enough money for us to come to London and for me to have a ball.”

  She was praying that Vincent of all people would not guess how they had obtained that money.

  “I suspected it was rather like fairy gold and would soon disappear. Then I saw how clever your brother was in getting to know all the rich Americans and naturally for that he had to invent a background of being rich himself.”

  Alena put up her hand.

  “You are far too astute and you know too much,” she protested. “Robin and I were certain that everything we were doing was a secret.”

  “I think it is, except from me, and as you well know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  There was silence for a moment and then he asked,

  “Are you going to do what Robin wants and marry Chuck Finberg’s millions?”

  “I don’t know what to do,” sighed Alena and there were tears in her eyes.

  “You know what I want, Alena, and I have exerted an almost superhuman patience not to tell you before – that I love you.”

  Alena looked up at him.

  “You love me,” she whispered beneath her breath.

  “I loved you from the first second I saw you. You must know that I would give my right hand and my hopes of Heaven to marry you.”

  “Oh, Vincent – ”

  “But what I have to offer you,” he went on almost abruptly, “compared with someone like Finberg – ”

  Alena did not answer, she just looked at him.

  Her eyes seemed to have caught the sunlight.

  She knew now that she too loved him.

  She had been fighting hard against falling in love with him ever since they had met.

  “All I have, Alena, is the money my father allows me because he wants me to earn my own living. It’s not as much as I think he would give me if I married, but we could be quite comfortable on it.”

  Alena made a little murmur, but did not interrupt.

  “There’s a very pretty house on my father’s estate. It’s not huge like yours, but small and cosy. Two people who love each other could be very happy living in it.”

  Vincent stopped and moved so that he was closer to Alena.

  “What else can I give you, my precious,” he asked, “except all my heart and the promise that I will worship at your feet until I die?”

  He put his arm round Alena as he spoke.

  She turned and hid her face against his shoulder.

  “What am I to do, Vincent? Tell me what I am to do?”

  Vincent could see that she was crying.

  Very gently he turned her face up to his.

  “You do know the answer to that question. Love is more important than anything else. The love we have for one another, my darling, wherever we live or whatever we do, will make us feel that we are living in Heaven.”

  Then his arms tightened and he was kissi
ng her.

  Kissing her at first gently, then possessively as if he knew he would never let her go.

  *

  It was a long time later that Alena sighed,

  “Darling, I think that we should go on to the house and, as we have driven this far, you must see the pictures. Although I don’t want to give Mr. Finberg tea, I think we must return home before it is dark.”

  “You are quite right, my precious, and I want to see the pictures in the daylight.”

  Alena rose and carried the picnic basket back to the carriage while Vincent turned the horses round.

  She thought as they started off again that perhaps by a wonderful stroke of luck Robin would become engaged this afternoon to Mary-Lee.

  Then there would be no need to rent the pictures to Chuck Finberg.

  She would be free.

  *

  Robin, when he started off to meet Mary-Lee, was driving the most expensive carriage he could find – four well-matched horses drew it.

  He was determined to take Mary-Lee to his home in the country and impress her with its size and his wonderful collection of pictures.

  Then he would ask her to marry him.

  Granted his title was not as significant as that of a Duke or a Marquis, but neither of them had such a large house as he – nor pictures that were spoken of with awe by every knowledgeable art expert.

  ‘After all,’ Robin told himself, ‘a great number of women have found me attractive.’

  Women had pursued him ever since leaving school and he had always enjoyed the flirtatious looks in their eyes.

  The amazing words they had said to him to attract his attention and later affaires-de-coeur, if they did not last too long.

  In India, as the wretched husbands were sweating in the plains, he had visited Simla with the Viceroy and he had found there were always eager hands reaching out to him.

  There were lips that were waiting to be kissed. He had believed without being conceited that any woman he wanted to marry would be only too eager to say the one word ‘yes’.

  Of course a very rich American girl was well aware of her value and yet he hoped she would find it hard to resist him should he try to make her his.

  He had told Mary-Lee last night that he would pick her up at half-past-ten and he begged her not to be late as they had a good long way to go.

  He arrived promptly at her address and was shown into a comfortable sitting room that opened off the hall.