Love Finds the Way

Home > Romance > Love Finds the Way > Page 2
Love Finds the Way Page 2

by Barbara Cartland


  John had seen little of his uncle in recent years. He had always found other appointments to keep when his family thought it their duty to visit the Duke. He had no wish to suffer the boredom and discomfort he found at the castle.

  Yet now it was his.

  And he had no idea of what to do with it. Or how to solve any of the multitude of problems that were about to descend on him.

  "I had planned to stop off at Marseilles for a while," he mused, "and maybe take another ship home. But now –"

  "But now we must rejoin the ship," said Benedict at once.

  "There is no need to spoil your trip, Ben."

  "Of course I am coming with you. I will have to spend a few days with my family near Portsmouth, but then I am coming on to you. Do you think I would desert a friend when he's in trouble?"

  John flashed him a grateful glance, downed another brandy and they headed back to the ship.

  That night they began the journey to Portsmouth. John leaned against the railing, looking out at the choppy sea.

  "My father once said Uncle Rupert was as mad as a hatter," he told Benedict.

  "Because he helped the poor and oppressed?"

  "Because he put them before his own family. When he inherited the title there was a reasonable amount of family money and a home which most sensible people would rejoice at owning. It had pictures, furniture, a library, in fact everything a man could want. He spent it all on his lost sheep.

  "There were endless family squabbles and it was one of the reasons I felt the need to travel. I could just afford one journey, but I used it to make some money, so that I could give something to my mother and sisters and have a little over to pay for the next journey. That way I managed to explore much of the Orient, while still doing my duty to them."

  "What were the other reasons you wanted to travel?" Benedict asked.

  John thought for a moment.

  "I was looking for something," he said.

  "But what?"

  "I am not sure – just, something different. Something outside my own experience that would make sense of the world. I have always lived in hope and now I shall never find it. All hope is gone."

  "Perhaps it isn't to be found abroad?" Benedict suggested.

  "I certainly haven't found it in the places I have visited," John agreed. "Perhaps it doesn't exist."

  "Of course it does," Benedict said earnestly. "It exists for everyone. But maybe you cannot just go out and find it. Perhaps you have to be ready to recognise it when it finds you."

  "Now you are getting mystical," John reproved him.

  "And you're getting tipsy, old fellow," Benedict said kindly.

  "It's enough to make any man drink himself to death," John said morosely. "And whatever it is, I won't find it now, not in England, a country I hoped I had left behind."

  He thought for a moment.

  "Do you realise," he said at last, "that there is actually no need for me to go home? I might never have called at Marseilles. I could turn round and go back on the next ship."

  "No, you couldn't possibly do that," Benedict said. "You are the head of the family and it is your responsibility, however much you hate it."

  "I suppose you're right," John sighed. "But every word feels like chains on me. Well, there's no hope for it. Let's go to bed."

  *

  It was evening when they docked at Portsmouth and there was nobody on the quay to meet either of them, since nobody knew when they would be returning.

  "Come to the castle and suffer with me," John pleaded.

  "How can any man resist such an invitation?" Benedict exclaimed. "I will join you as soon as I have seen my family."

  At last it was time to disembark. As John walked to the gangway he found a porter was already there with his luggage.

  "I suppose you will want a carriage," the man said to him.

  "Can you find me one with two horses?" John replied. "I live in the County of Hampshire, near the village of Little Kingsford, so it will be a long journey."

  "I'll do my best," said the porter and went off.

  When John disembarked a few minutes later he was pleased to see that his luggage was being loaded into a two horse carriage.

  "Goodbye old fellow," he said to Benedict. "Join me as soon as you can."

  'It will be an expensive trip,' he thought as he turned towards the carriage, 'but it will be more comfortable than going by train, which usually means waiting for hours and changing several times before I finally reach the nearest station to my home.'

  Suddenly he heard a voice just behind him.

  "Please, please will you take me with you? I am travelling to the same part of the County as you are and no other carriage here at the moment will take me."

  The voice was strong, eager and pleasant.

  As John turned round in surprise he saw standing behind him a very pretty girl. She was well-dressed and was carrying a case which he would have thought would have been too heavy for her. She looked at him in a pleading way and he thought it almost impossible to refuse her request.

  "Are you really going to Little Kingsford?" he asked. "It will take over two hours from here."

  "I know that," she replied. "the coachmen I have asked say it is too late to take their horses so far and I don't want to stay here tonight."

  "It will be a bit of a crush," John said, "but of course I will give you a lift if that is where you are going."

  "I am indeed going to Little Kingsford," she answered. "I heard the man from the ship saying that was where you were going and I would be so very grateful if I can travel with you."

  John smiled.

  "Of course we can manage it," he said. He called the coachman and indicated for the girl's luggage to be put in with his own.

  But she kept hold of her case as they began to walk and John politely tried to take it from her.

  "No, thank you," she replied brightly. "I can carry it myself."

  "It looks heavy."

  "Oh, but I am very strong," she said cheerfully.

  They reached the carriage just as all the other luggage was aboard. Without hesitation she lifted her bag and tossed it in. Then she reached into her purse and handed a shilling to the servant who had taken the rest.

  "I think you should have left that to me," John murmured.

  "You can tip him as well," she answered. "I don't suppose he will mind."

  John hastily added his own tip and they climbed into the carriage together. As they moved off, John looked at the girl beside him. She was certainly very pretty. Her fair hair under a white straw hat was most becoming.

  It was just a pity, he thought, that she spoiled her charming effect by showing so much mannish independence.

  "Were you on board the ship on which I travelled?" he asked.

  "No," the girl replied. "I have been staying with friends nearby, but I had to leave very suddenly."

  "Not a family tragedy, I hope?"

  "Oh, no. My friend has a brother who – well, he started to get a little silly about me. I could not make him take no for an answer, so I slipped away. Of course that meant I could not make proper travel arrangements, so I am going home anyhow. Then your ship came in and I heard someone saying it had come from France."

  "That's right," John replied. "We called in at Marseilles, but actually I have come from the Far East. And since we are both going to Little Kingsford, I suppose we will be neighbours."

  "I am going to Kingsford School as I believe they are short of teachers."

  John looked at her in surprise.

  "Are you a teacher?" he asked. "Somehow you don't look like a school marm."

  "I am not one yet," the girl told him. "But I have had an excellent education and I want to use it. Otherwise I will just sit about and be the daughter at home and do nothing."

  "Why do nothing?" John wanted to know.

  "Because that's what daughters at home do. Or they sit on charity committees, but Mama's in charge of them all so that doesn't leave
me much to do. She simply will not let go of the reins and it's very exasperating when I want to be doing things."

  "What sort of things?" John asked cautiously.

  "Useful things. You cannot imagine how I long to be useful. I find it an intolerable waste of life to do the same chores day after day, paying visits, buying new clothes, reading ladies' periodicals."

  John concealed his thought that this was an entirely proper occupation for a young female, but said diplomatically,

  "That must be very boring. But I think you will find a school dull too."

  "Well, I have read all the books in the library and I cannot think of anything to do except be a teacher. After all, what is life without serious activity?"

  "Serious activity?" echoed John, looking at her doubtfully.

  It occurred to him that, although undoubtedly pretty, she was less charming than he had first thought. Young ladies, in his view, did not speak about 'serious activity'. And if they did, a sensible man avoided them.

  "But surely a woman finds her serious activity in marriage," he remarked. "And raising children is a serious activity. I dare say you will marry soon."

  "No thank you," she replied as though declining a slice of bread. "The married state does not suit me."

  "You have tried it?"

  "No, but I have seen enough of it to know that no sensible woman would have anything to do with it."

  Thoroughly taken aback, John stared at her. Young ladies were not supposed to talk like this.

  "Then it's lucky for us poor devils that there aren't too many sensible women in the world," he said, trying to turn it into a joke.

  "But there are some sensible women in the world," she objected. "Plenty of them, in fact."

  "Then how does it happen that they get married?"

  "Because the world offers them no other choice," she said. "Otherwise –"

  Sensing a speech threatening him John said hastily,

  "Suppose we tell each other our names?"

  "I am Gina Wilton," the girl answered, offering him her hand to shake.

  He took it and found his fingers almost crushed by a determined grip. He only just managed not to wince.

  "And you live in Little Kingsford?"

  "That's right, in the shadow of the castle."

  John gave her a curious look.

  "Why do you mention the castle?" he asked.

  "Because the thought of it has always filled my life. I have always been able to see it from my bedroom window, the great tower rearing up against the sky. And it's a real castle too. So many places that call themselves castles are really just houses and they were only built a couple of hundred years ago.

  "But Chesterton Castle was built when castles were fortresses and it has real turrets and battlements so that you can fire arrows at the enemy, and a real moat."

  "Well, it isn't really a moat any more," John said. "It was filled in years ago, but you can see where it once was."

  "I used to make up such stories about the castle when I was a little girl. I was a Knight in shining armour, riding forth to slay the dragon and protect the weak."

  "Women were not allowed to be Knights," John said firmly.

  "I was in disguise," she replied, just as firmly. "I rode the country on my trusty steed, Maximus, protecting the weak."

  John privately thought that the weak would probably run for cover at the sight of this terrifying girl, but he was too much of a gentleman to say so.

  "Weren't you ever the damsel in distress?" he asked.

  "Pooh, who wants to do that?"

  "I thought not."

  "Women led terrible lives," she complained, "stuck at home all day, waiting for the men to come home from their adventures. I would rather be out there actually having the adventures. Wouldn't you?"

  "Well, I do enjoy travelling," he admitted.

  "Oh, yes, you said you had been to the Far East, I remember. Will you tell me all about it?"

  "No," he said flatly.

  "Oh! Why not?"

  "Because you never let me get a word in edgeways."

  "I am so sorry. I am afraid I am always doing that."

  "I can imagine. I would hate to be a dragon facing you. You would talk the poor creature to death!"

  She chuckled and it had a strangely pleasant sound.

  "So, while I have got you quiet for a brief moment," John resumed, "allow me to introduce myself."

  "Oh, yes, I didn't you give the chance to do that, did I?"

  "I am surprised you noticed. You might like to know that we are going to be neighbours, because my destination is the castle."

  Gina gave an exclamation.

  "How exciting! Oh, please, I long to see inside it after seeing only the outside for so long. Do you think you could possibly arrange it?"

  "It might be managed," John agreed.

  "You could actually persuade the Duke to agree?"

  "He might be open to reason."

  "Really? Do you know him? The new one, I mean. John Chester. Of course I know that the old Duke died and John Chester has disappeared. There are all sorts of stories flying around about him."

  "Really?" John queried. "And just what stories are they?"

  "People say that he is mad and his relatives have to hide him away to avoid a scandal."

  "Indeed."

  "Some people say he vanished years ago and nobody knows where he is, so they are going to hire an actor to pretend to be him. Fancy that!"

  "Yes, fancy. Do go on, Miss Wilton. I cannot wait to hear the rest."

  "Well, the other story is that he is a criminal in some foreign prison and they are trying to get him out, but the authorities won't release him because he is so deep in villainy."

  "Well, I like that one best so far. I would rather be steeped in villainy than mad."

  The effect of this pronouncement was all he had hoped. Miss Wilton stared at him, her jaw dropping.

  "You mean – you – ?"

  "You never did allow me to speak for long enough to introduce myself. Allow me to do so now, Miss Wilton. John Chester, Duke of Chesterton. At your service."

  CHAPTER TWO

  She gasped.

  "How wonderful, how marvellous for you. Surely you are very excited."

  There was silence for a moment before John answered,

  "Not exactly. It may sound very thrilling to you, but the last Duke had a passion for helping people who were ill or depressed and having them to stay in the castle. In a great many cases he paid their bills."

  She gave a cry of delight.

  "I have heard all about your uncle, Papa used to say how kind and generous he was, but how badly he was treated for all he did. He said the Duke's family were always scolding him for spending his money on strangers rather than on them."

  "Really?" said John, a little awkwardly.

  "Papa said he was an exceptionally kindly man."

  "I suppose that is what he was," John replied. "But his family suffered because he spent so much money on strangers with the castle in a very bad state and nobody can now afford to do anything about it."

  "That's what you will have to do, I suppose?"

  "How can I without the money, which unfortunately, I do not have?" John asked. "I am almost certain my uncle did not leave any money. Unless some drops down from Heaven, the castle will gradually fall to the ground and disappear."

  He spoke without thinking that it was an odd comment to say to a stranger. The girl gave a cry of horror.

  "You cannot allow that to happen."

  "I do not think I can afford to do anything else," responded John, feeling slightly indignant. "When I last visited it, I was appalled at the way it looked both inside and out. In fact, I expect the only thing I can do is to let it fall into ruins."

  "But you cannot do that," Gina asserted, very firmly. "Now it is yours, you must make it look as wonderful as it looked when it was first built."

  "Must I?" he demanded, feeling rather put out at the way she told
him what to do without having the slightest notion of his problems.

  "Of course you must. How can a Duke accept the destruction of his heritage? You have to believe that this is a duel which we cannot lose, a part of our history of which our children and grandchildren will one day be very proud."

  John raised his eyebrows.

  "Our children?" he echoed.

  At once she realised what she had said and colour flooded her face.

  "I didn't mean – oh, dear!"

  "It's all right, I know what you meant," he said patiently. "You meant everyone's children and grandchildren all over the county."

  "Yes, that is what I meant," she said thankfully. "I should think before I speak."

  "Indeed you should," he said, remembering his grievance. "It is very easy to tell other people what to do, but when you have finished informing me of my duty, perhaps you would care to tell me how I am going to do it."

  "That, of course, will take careful consideration."

  "I am glad you realise it. I was beginning to think you were expecting a miracle."

  "A miracle?" she echoed, staring at him. "Of course there is going to be a miracle. We are going to make it happen."

  "You make it happen," he said crossly. "I have run out of miracles."

  If she had not been sitting down she would have stamped her foot.

  "Oh, don't be so – so –"

  "Spineless?" he offered helpfully. "Weak-kneed? Pick any one that suits you."

  "You need not think you are going to silence me like that," she said. "Because it won't work."

  "I was afraid it wouldn't," he muttered.

  It occurred to him that he ought to take charge of the conversation. She was charming, but like all women, she was unrealistic in her expectations and it was time that the male intellect enlightened her about life.

  "Now, Miss Wilton," he said firmly, "I think you should listen to me."

  He turned in order to see her better while he spoke and it was then that he was really struck by her looks. He had noticed that she was pretty, but now he realised that she was lovelier than any girl he had seen for a long time.

  She was an English rose with a perfect oval face, framed by honey-coloured hair. Her fair skin was so enchanting that she seemed to be part of the sunshine itself.

 

‹ Prev