A Steeplechase For Love Read online

  A STEEPLECHASE FOR LOVE

  BARBARA CARTLAND

  www.barbaracartland.com

  Copyright © 2011 by Cartland Promotions

  First published on the internet in September 2011 by Barbaracartland.com

  ISBNs

  978-1-78213-091-8 Epub

  978-1-78213-092-5 Mobi

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval, without the prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  eBook conversion by M-Y Books

  A STEEPLECHASE FOR LOVE

  Walking back from the stables the Duke passed the wrong turning to The Hall he had taken on the day of his arrival.

  Instinctively he glanced down the path, wondering if he would again see the beautiful girl who had directed him to the front door.

  ‘Helsa’, he thought to himself.

  No woman he had ever known had had that name and it certainly suited her.

  He felt disappointed that, having seen her for that brief moment, he had never set eyes on her again.

  Yet why should he?

  After all, she was with the servants, whilst he was very much in the front of the house.

  At the same time there was a definite mystery about her which he found intriguing and longed to solve.

  Just why had she begged him so fervently not to mention he had seen her?

  Why had she given him her right name and then corrected it quickly?

  There had been a touch of fear in her voice and he had known by the look in her eyes that she was frightened.

  Of whom or of what?

  The questions kept coming into his mind.

  THE BARBARA CARTLAND PINK COLLECTION

  Barbara Cartland was the most prolific bestselling author in the history of the world. She was frequently in the Guinness Book of Records for writing more books in a year than any other living author. In fact her most amazing literary feat was when her publishers asked for more Barbara Cartland romances, she doubled her output from 10 books a year to over 20 books a year, when she was 77.

  She went on writing continuously at this rate for 20 years and wrote her last book at the age of 97, thus completing 400 books between the ages of 77 and 97.

  Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.

  Now the exciting news is that these 160 original unpublished Barbara Cartland books are ready for publication and they will be published by Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the web is the best possible way to reach so many Barbara Cartland readers around the world.

  The 160 books will be published monthly and will be numbered in sequence.

  The series is called the Pink Collection as a tribute to Barbara Cartland whose favourite colour was pink and it became very much her trademark over the years.

  The Barbara Cartland Pink Collection is published only on the internet. Log on to www.barbaracartland.com to find out how you can purchase the books monthly as they are published, and take out a subscription that will ensure that all subsequent editions are delivered to you by mail order to your home.

  If you do not have access to a computer you can write for information about the Pink Collection to the following address :

  BarbaraCartland.com

  Camfield Place

  Hatfield

  Hertfordshire

  AL9 6JE

  United Kingdom

  Telephone: +44 1707 642629

  Fax: +44 1707 663041

  Titles in this series

  These titles are currently available for download. For more information please see the Where to buy page at the end of this book.

  The Cross Of Love

  Love In The Highlands

  Love Finds The Way

  The Castle Of Love

  Love Is Triumphant

  Stars In The Sky

  The Ship Of Love

  A Dangerous Disguise

  Love Became Theirs

  Love Drives In

  Sailing To Love

  The Star Of Love

  Music Is The Soul Of Love

  Love In The East

  Theirs To Eternity

  A Paradise On Earth

  Love Wins In Berlin

  In Search Of Love

  Love Rescues Rosanna

  A Heart In Heaven

  The House Of Happiness

  Royalty Defeated By Love

  The White Witch

  They Sought Love

  Love Is The Reason For Living

  They Found Their Way To Heaven

  Learning To Love

  Journey To Happiness

  A Kiss In The Desert

  The Heart Of Love

  The Richness Of Love

  For Ever And Ever

  An Unexpected Love

  Saved By An Angel

  Touching The Stars

  Seeking Love

  Journey To Love

  The Importance Of Love

  Love By The Lake

  A Dream Come True

  The King Without A Heart

  The Waters Of Love

  Danger To The Duke

  A Perfect Way To Heaven

  Follow Your Heart

  In Hiding

  Rivals For Love

  A Kiss From The Heart

  Lovers In London

  This Way To Heaven

  A Princess Prays

  Mine For Ever

  The Earl’s Revenge

  Love At The Tower

  Ruled By Love

  Love Came From Heaven

  Love And Apollo

  The Keys Of Love

  A Castle Of Dreams

  A Battle Of Brains

  A Change Of Hearts

  It Is Love

  The Triumph Of Love

  Wanted – A Royal Wife

  A Kiss Of Love

  To Heaven With Love

  Pray For Love

  The Marquis Is Trapped

  Hide And Seek For Love

  Hiding from Love

  A Teacher Of Love

  Money Or Love

  The Revelation Is Love

  The Tree Of Love

  The Magnificent Marquis

  The Castle

  The Gates of Paradise

  A Lucky Star

  A Heaven on Earth

  The Healing Hand

  A Virgin Bride

  The Trail to Love

  A Royal Love Match

  A Steeplechase for Love

  THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND

  Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most famous romantic novelists. With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.

  Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller. Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. In addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA. In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1
& 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.

  Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of Romance’, Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery. Becoming one of Britain's most popular media personalities and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara spoke on radio and television about social and political issues, as well as making many public appearances.

  In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work for humanitarian and charitable causes.

  Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime. Best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and traditional values. But above all, it was Barbara Cartland’s overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her truly unique.

  “I have always felt that horses are not just beautiful animals but are an integral part of romance. I often imagine myself on a white stallion in the arms of a handsome man riding away into the sunset to an Eternity of love – ”

  Barbara Cartland

  CHAPTER ONE

  1867

  Helsa saw her father off in the family trap and then walked slowly into the garden.

  She hoped that he would not find the journey to the woman who had sent for him too long or too arduous.

  She knew that, when people were ill and turned to the Vicar for help, they had an infuriating habit of talking about themselves until he was exhausted.

  The Reverend the Honourable Alfred Irvin was an extremely conscientious clergyman and he looked after the Parishioners in the village as if they were his own family.

  As the younger son of the Earl of Irvindale, he had not joined the Army like his elder brother.

  He was expected to take on one of the Parishes for which his father was responsible in the County of Surrey, and had therefore gone up to Oxford to read for a degree in history and theology and this he did so brilliantly that he was awarded a double first.

  He was really, as his wife often said to him, far too able to be no more than the Vicar of a small Parish, but at the same time he was more or less living at home.

  He enjoyed all the advantages of a great estate and a name which was revered over the whole countryside.

  However, what had not been expected was that the Vicar’s elder brother should be killed in the Crimean War.

  The British Army had travelled out to the Crimea Peninsula more than thirty thousand strong to fight against the Russians in 1853, but very few had returned.

  Neglected since the Battle of Waterloo, the Army was badly equipped and poorly led and owing to muddle and misinterpretation of orders at Balaclava, five hundred horses of the Light Brigade alone were killed or injured.

  The Earl of Irvindale was totally broken-hearted at the death of his elder son and he died shortly before peace was signed.

  Thus on the old Earl’s death, his second son Alfred succeeded not only to the title but to the house and estate as well.

  However, because he was so well known locally as ‘the Vicar’, he did not call himself the Earl of Irvindale as he was entitled to do.

  Nor did he move from the Vicarage into Irvin Hall.

  He realised for the first time that his responsibility was far greater and more difficult than he had anticipated.

  Owing to the war and the fact that so many of their best workers left to join the Army, the estate had become neglected and unprofitable.

  The Earls of Irvindale had been wealthy men for several hundred years, and their successors had carried on as if there were inexhaustible funds in the bank and they spent as much as they wished without a second thought.

  As was usual with ancestral families, the Head, in this case the Earl, was responsible for all his relations, but the family estate had become impoverished because of the extravagance and disinterest of previous Earls.

  And then the late Earl of Irvindale, handicapped by constant financial problems arising from the Crimean War and saddened by the death of his elder son, had found it impossible to keep the estate in good order.

  It was now in a state of sad decline and producing very little income.

  The Reverend Alfred Irvin was in despair.

  How could he ever dispense what had become only a small income amongst so great a number of applicants?

  “What am I to do, Helsa?” he asked his daughter with her long golden hair and shining blue eyes.

  He thought as he looked at her how lovely she was.

  If things had been normal, she would have gone to London as a debutante and would have then undoubtedly been a huge success in the Beau Monde who appreciated beauty whenever it appeared.

  Instead of which she had to stay in Little Medwell and listen to the endless stream of complaints and requests that poured into the Vicarage every day.

  But it was Helsa who thought up the bright idea of letting out Irvin Hall.

  “Of course, dearest Papa,” she had said, “you will never wish to sell anything that has been in the family for nearly four centuries. The Hall has been home not only for us but for everyone who bears our ancient name.”

  “No, definitely no,” the Vicar replied to her almost angrily.

  It had indeed passed through his mind that the only way to survive would be to sell objets d’art, but he knew only too well that virtually all the valuable objects at The Hall were entailed – for the son he did not possess.

  He would be succeeded by a fairly distant cousin he had not seen for a long time.

  But that was for the future.

  For the present it was he and only he who could somehow contrive to keep the family alive.

  “I think now we are at peace,” Helsa was saying slowly, “more visitors from other countries will be coming to England. Perhaps we can find a rich man who wants to rent a large country house so he can entertain his friends.”

  Her father stared at her in astonishment. “That had never occurred to me, but it could well happen and is certainly worth considering.”

  “What we have to do, Papa,” continued Helsa, “is to notify the Agents in London who help foreigners to find accommodation whether it is in a hotel or a house.”

  “That is very clever of you, my dear. It would be a tremendous help if we could lease The Hall and save me from having to dispense with the few servants who are still there.”

  Helsa gave a little cry.

  “You cannot think of doing so, Papa! The Cosnets had been with us ever since I was born. Robinson would, I know, rather die than leave The Hall, which he adores.”

  “I know!” the Vicar responded almost testily. “But unfortunately they have to eat and expect to be paid.”

  “That is why I am suggesting, Papa, that someone else does it for us. If we could find a suitable tenant even for a short while, things may well improve.”

  The Vicar sighed.

  The last thing he wanted was to have to manage his estate as well as looking after the people who had always turned to him instinctively for help – not only his relations but all his Parishioners to whom he had been a guide and a comforter since they were born.

  What was more, two of the other Vicars in villages round the estate had died or left and so he was responsible for not only running his own Parish but two others nearby.

  It was more than enough to preach at three Services on Sundays and to baptise, marry and bury and at the same time to listen to their troubles was almost too much.

  In fact he carried out all his duties extremely well and was consequently adored by everyone on the estate and in the neighbourhood.

  Yet it was impossible for him to carry on doing so much for ever.

  “Now if you will allow me, Papa,” proposed Helsa, “I will write to two of these Agents in Lo
ndon who have advertised in the newspapers.”

  Her father gazed at her and she added,

  “I am sure as they advertise in English newspapers, they also put advertisements into foreign ones. I think too that we should write to the Embassies and they may know of wealthy people from their countries visiting London.”

  “It certainly sounds a good idea,” the Vicar agreed. “You must forgive me, my dear Helsa, for not thinking of it myself.”

  “It’s a miracle, Papa, that you have time to think of anything except the people who hammer on our door day and night. Do you realise you have been out three times this week when you should have been sleeping to recover from the exertions of the day?”

  Her father smiled.

  “I have always thought it extremely unnecessary for people to die at night when they have the whole day to do it in,” he had grinned. “I often think it is because they are left alone and find it easier to meet their God when there is no audience!”

  Helsa had laughed.

  Her father had a great sense of humour and she had often found herself laughing helplessly at his quips.

  Equally she realised that no one could possibly do more for all those who turned to him in trouble.

  It was so obvious to her that he was adored by those he served and the result was that they sent for him on every possible occasion and with every excuse however feeble.

  “Now, when you come back from Mrs. Willow this afternoon, if she lets you off quickly, I suggest, Papa, that you go to bed and have a few hours sleep before dinner.”

  “What about my sermons for tomorrow?” he asked distractedly.

  “You know perfectly well, Papa, you can deliver an excellent sermon without writing it all down. Just talk to the people from your heart and they will listen attentively. I sometimes think that because you enjoy writing so much, what you say goes over their heads.”

  “I know that, Helsa. Equally when I am writing a sermon, I often get carried away by my subject. It is only when I am reading it in Church that I realise that you are the only one in the congregation who will understand what I am trying to say!”

  “I always enjoy every word of your sermons, Papa, but until you have more free time, I suggest you talk to the Parishioners about themselves and it’s the only thing they listen to anyway!”