Love is Triumphant

  LOVE IS TRIUMPHANT

  BARBARA CARTLAND

  Barbaracartland.com Ltd

  Copyright © 2005 by Cartland Promotions

  First published on the internet in 2005 by

  Barbaracartland.com

  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,

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  eBook conversion by David Stockman

  LOVE IS TRIUMPHANT

  In his eagerness he had seized her hands and was holding them tightly. There was a burning light in his eyes as he looked at her, and she could feel his warm breath fanning her face.

  Startled, Rosina gazed back at him so that their eyes met and she seemed to be looking directly into his soul. At the same time she had a disconcerting feeling that he too was looking into her soul.

  She took fright. How dare he do this, as though every thought and feeling she had was opened up to him. How dare he understand her!

  She snatched her hands back, turning away from him.

  "Forgive me," he said. "I didn't mean to – what you do is none of my business."

  "Indeed it is not," she said in a shaking voice.

  "I wish you every success, Miss Clarendon. You deserve the best that the world has to offer."

  Without warning she found herself on the verge of tears. She took a moment to control herself, then turned back to smile at him, wanting to be friends again.

  But he had gone.

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  Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.

  Now the exciting news is that these 160 original unpublished Barbara Cartland books are ready for publication and they will be published by Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the web is the best possible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 :

  Barbara Cartland.com Ltd.

  240 High Road,

  Harrow Weald,

  Harrow HA3 7BB

  United Kingdom.

  Telephone & fax: +44 (0)20 8863 2520

  Titles in this series

  1. The Cross of Love

  2. Love in the Highlands

  3. Love Finds the Way

  4. The Castle of Love

  5. Love is Triumphant

  THE LATE DAME

  BARBARA CARTLAND

  Barbara Cartland who sadly died in May 2000 at the age of nearly 99 was the world's most famous romantic novelist who wrote 723 books in her lifetime with worldwide sales of over 1 billion copies and her books were translated into 36 different languages.

  As well as romantic novels, she wrote historical biographies, 6 autobiographies, theatrical plays, books of advice on life, love, vitamins and cookery. She also found time to be a political speaker and television and radio personality.

  She wrote her first book at the age of 21 and this was called Jigsaw. It became an immediate bestseller and sold 100,000 copies in hardback and was translated into 6 different languages. She wrote continuously throughout her life, writing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. Her books have always been immensely popular in the United States, where in 1976 her current books were at numbers 1 & 2 in the B. Dalton bestsellers list, a feat never achieved before or since by any author.

  Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime and will be best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels, so loved by her millions of readers throughout the world.

  Her books will always be treasured for their moral message, her pure and innocent heroines, her good looking and dashing heroes and above all her belief that the power of love is more important than anything else in everyone's life.

  "Everyone falls in love at least once in a lifetime, and it is always a unique, wonderful and spiritual experience."

  Barbara Cartland

  CHAPTER ONE

  - 1868

  Rosina Clarendon was lying on her bed, reading a book, when there was a knock on her door.

  "The Headmistress would like to see you, miss," said the maid who carried messages throughout the school.

  Rosina checked herself in the mirror to make sure she wasn't untidy, but found her appearance neat enough to please even the eagle-eyed Miss Baxter.

  She could not think why the Head had sent for her, but she had no fear of being in trouble. As the daughter of Sir Elroy Clarendon, the local Member of Parliament, she was a privileged person. She was given special treatment in many ways, including a bedroom to herself, some distance away from the dormitories where the other girls slept.

  She tried never to take advantage of this favouritism, but she was not surprised when she entered Miss Baxter's study and was greeted by a smile.

  "There you are, Rosina. I only sent for you because you have a visitor. Sir John Crosby has come to call on you, on behalf of your distinguished father."

  The name of Sir John took her by surprise, and for a

  moment it was hard to control the impulse to smile with pleasure. He was a handsome young man and she had enjoyed many sweet dreams about him, dreams that he knew nothing about.

  "Sir John Crosby?" she said innocently. "I wonder why he is here."

  "He will tell you himself," Miss Baxter said, rising from behind her desk. "He's standing just behind you."

  Rosina whirled and saw Sir John's laughing face.

  "Why I – I didn't see you," she stammered.

  She had a horrid suspicion that she was blushing, as though all her thoughts about him might be written on her face. But she managed to greet him with an appearance of composure.

  "Has something happened to Papa or Mama?" she asked anxiously. "Is it bad news?"

  "Not at all. All is well with your family, but I happened to be passing through on my way to my constituency, and volunteered to bring you some letters from your parents."

  "How kind of you," she exclaimed.

  He turned to
the Headmistress, giving her his most charming smile.

  "Miss Baxter, I'm sure it's against the rules, but may I speak alone with Miss Clarendon?"

  "Well – " Miss Baxter hesitated, conscious that Rosina was no longer a child, and would be a debutante very soon.

  "Perhaps we could take a walk in the gardens," Sir John persisted. "If we promise not to move out of sight from the house."

  "In that case – yes. I'm sure you understand, Sir John, that we have to be very careful with such an attractive young lady, about to emerge into society – "

  "Of course I do, and you may trust me to protect her reputation."

  How could any woman resist his smile, Rosina wondered, or the warmth of his demeanour, or the vibrancy in his voice, or his way of looking and sounding as though life was a fruit to be devoured, and he was going to enjoy all of it?

  Apparently the Headmistress could not resist it either.

  "Then you may go into the garden," she said. "But not for too long."

  Demurely Rosina walked beside Sir John into the sunny garden, trying not to look too pleased at being with him.

  'Don't be silly,' she admonished herself severely. 'To him you're just a schoolgirl.'

  In a short time she would be eighteen, and ready for her 'Coming Out' ball. Then she would wear pink and white satin, with rosebuds in her hair and her mother's pearls about her neck.

  How grown-up she would look! In her happy dream she was a glorious vision, with her fair hair and deep blue eyes, her tall, slim figure and glowing, peachy complexion. And Sir John, who would naturally be at the ball, would be struck dumb with love at the sight of her.

  She pictured him gazing, enraptured, as she made her grand entrance, wondering why he had never noticed this staggering beauty before.

  But that was for the future, she thought wistfully. For the moment she was trapped in a school uniform of blue serge, that reduced her figure to a flat board. Instead of being swept up in a glamorous coiffure, her hair was worn down and held back by a ribbon.

  "We'll just go as far as the stream," Sir John said. "We'll still be in sight of the building."

  If only he would grab her hand and run into the woods, she thought. If only he wanted to be alone with her, to steal a kiss.

  But evidently he wanted no such thing, so she merely nodded and said,

  "What a good idea!"

  There was a fallen log by the stream, and since the weather was fine and dry they were able to sit on it.

  "Things are humming in London, as you can imagine," Sir John said.

  "Well, I know that the Prime Minister, Mr. Disraeli, was defeated over some bill," Rosina said. "So there's going to have to be a general election, and Papa is very excited about it, because he thinks he may actually be a Minister in the next Government. But I only know that because he wrote and told me so himself. We aren't expected to read newspapers here."

  "I'm very sure you don't obey that prohibition," Sir John said with a twinkle.

  "Certainly not. I buy some in the village, and Miss Draycott lets me read hers. But don't tell anyone, or she might get into trouble."

  "Who is Miss Draycott?"

  "The music mistress. She's quite young and very nice."

  "You mean she isn't scandalised by your unfeminine interest in politics?" he teased.

  "Seeing as Papa is an MP, she is understanding about it. Besides, the man she loves is also in politics, or at least, he intends to be."

  "Good heavens! Who?"

  But Rosina shook her head.

  "I can't tell you that. It isn't my secret. I shouldn't even have told you her name, and I wouldn't have done so if I'd been thinking properly. Please forget it."

  "Very well. But I hope for her sake that this man has money."

  "He hasn't," Rosina said with a sigh.

  "Then what are they planning to live on?" he demanded. "Even if he secures a seat in Parliament, he won't be paid. MPs don't get a salary, so he'll need another job. Perhaps he's a lawyer, or something like that?"

  Rosina's father was a successful lawyer who, for years, had combined a prosperous legal practice with sitting in the House of Commons. Sir John himself was a wealthy landowner who did not need to earn money.

  "He isn't a lawyer," Rosina said now with a sigh. "He meant to be, but he failed his bar exams. His health was poor at the time," she added hastily, "and it wasn't his fault."

  "It makes no difference whose fault it was," Sir John replied firmly. "The fact is that he has no income and no means of earning one without passing his exams. Can he take them again?"

  Rosina shook her head.

  "He failed very badly," she said. "They told him not to return."

  "Wealthy relatives?"

  "His uncle makes him a modest allowance, but is growing cross with him."

  "I'm not surprised. He sounds a feeble character."

  "That is most unfair," Rosina flared. "How can you,

  who have never been ill or poor, understand his situation?"

  He looked at her curiously.

  "I thought it was Miss Draycott who was in love with him, not you."

  "How dare you say such a thing. I've never even met him."

  "Forgive me. I shouldn't have said that."

  "No, you shouldn't," she said furiously.

  She could never understand why she always seemed to end up at odds with Sir John. When he was absent, she dreamed about his handsome face. When he was present, she noticed only how infuriating he could be.

  "Let's forget my sins," he said in a voice that was almost placating, "and return to this man, and how he is to obtain a good income so that he can marry your friend. Not that I think any right-minded woman would want to tie herself to such a – all right, all right," he said hastily, reading retribution in her eyes.

  "Perhaps he'll find a wealthy patron," Rosina said, controlling herself with difficulty.

  "Has he found one so far?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Then he'll have to marry money."

  "What a dreadful thing to say," Rosina flared up again.

  "My dear girl I'm only trying to alert you to the dangers. If this lady you seem so fond of, is hoping this man will marry her, both you and she should be warned that it's very unlikely."

  "But they love each other," she cried. "You should see the things he writes in his letters."

  "I'd like to," Sir John said, a touch grimly. "He sounds like a cad to me."

  "You know nothing about him," Rosina said angrily. "He loves her truly, devotedly, passionately – "

  "Enough to give up his ambition? Because he'll have to if he can't get financial backing from somewhere."

  "It won't come to that," she said firmly. "They will marry, and he'll find a patron – "

  "And a good fairy will appear and wave her magic wand and they'll live happily ever after," Sir John said impatiently. "My dear child, you're living in a romantic fantasy. The real world is a harsh place, and I'm afraid your friend is going to get hurt."

  "I've told you, they love each other," she said firmly.

  "Oh – love," he replied dismissively.

  "Why must you sneer?"

  "I'm not sneering, but I think we load far too many burdens onto 'love', most of which it's ill-equipped to bear. Love is very sweet for a time, but the man who relies on it is a fool."

  An edge of bitterness had crept into his voice. Rosina stared at him.

  "But we were talking about a woman," she said slowly.

  He seemed to recover himself.

  "Man or woman, it makes no difference," he said quickly. "There is love and there is reality, and it's better not to confuse the two."

  Rosina was silent, astonished at this unexpected glimpse he had given her into his own experience. For a moment there had been real pain in his voice.

  "I don't think you should assume that everyone's experience has been like yours," she said carefully.

  "Like mine?" he repeated sharply. "What are you tal
king about? We weren't talking about me."

  "I think we were."

  "Don't be so dashed impertinent!" he said angrily. "At your age, what do you know about anything?"

  "I know when a man's talking about himself – "

  "My dear child – "

  "And stop talking to me like that," she said furiously. "I'm not a child, I'm not yours and I have no desire to be your dear anything."

  "I feel exactly the same. A prickly, naggy creature like yourself is the last girl I'd ever – you should start being a little careful how you speak to men, Rosina. When you're a debutante you'll want them to like you, and they won't like you if you're always wiping your feet on them, the way you do with me."

  "Some men positively beg to have a woman's feet wiped on them," she snapped. "And then they have only themselves to blame."

  "I take it I'm included in that list?" he asked, his eyes kindling.

  "Should you be?"

  For a moment she thought he would explode. Then he turned away, raised his fists into the air and roared up into the sky.

  "Heaven give me patience! I pity the man who marries you, Rosina. He'll never get a word in edgeways."

  "Which will save me from having to listen to a lot of nonsense," she replied tartly.

  "On second thoughts, you are plainly destined to be an old maid."

  "That will suit me very well."

  For a while the silence was sulphurous. Then he sighed and came back to sit beside her, his good humour restored.

  "However did we start exchanging pleasantries?" he asked, taking her hand. "I didn't mean to be unkind about Miss Draycott, only to utter a friendly warning."

  "I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just that the whole thing is so unfair. "MPs ought to be paid, and then he could win a seat and they could afford to marry."

  "The idea is to make sure that they are all wealthy enough to be independent," Sir John explained. "It keeps out men who are regarded as 'not good enough'."

  "That's outrageous."

  "I agree, and one day it will have to be changed. People like your father and myself are working for changes. So is our leader, Mr. Gladstone. That's why it's so important that the Liberals win the coming election. But I'm afraid it won't be in time to do this couple any good."