Love Is the Reason For Living Read online

  LOVE IS THE REASON FOR LIVING

  Copyright © 2006 by Cartland Promotions

  First published on the internet in October 2006 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, 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

  LOVE IS THE REASON FOR LIVING

  Novella looked at Sir Edward and a sudden tenderness sprang into her heart.

  “You seem to understand how I feel about Crownley Hall – ” she murmured.

  “It is obvious to anyone who meets you that you love the Hall as much as you do your Mama and Salamander!”

  Sir Edward laughed as he patted Salamander on the flank, as he was grazing contentedly on the river bank.

  It had been a long time since Novella had felt so happy – and she found herself completely at ease in Sir Edward’s company.

  Novella was well aware that she had little experience of dealing socially with the opposite sex outside of friendship. There had been a few would-be suitors who called at her lodgings at the school, but her maid had always sent them away, saying she was not at home.

  Novella had never been in love and she could not imagine what it might feel like.

  But standing on the riverbank, watching Sir Edward playing with Salamander, she felt a mysterious yearning in her heart that she could not explain.

  ‘I must not indulge myself in silly notions,’ she thought, shaking herself. ‘I must not allow myself to be distracted from Mama and Crownley Hall.’

  Nevertheless, she could not deny that she felt a strange, haunting longing and a secret thrill at being in Sir Edward’s company.

  “We should be moving on,” she suggested, drawing Salamander close to her, “will you please help me up?”

  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

  6. Stars in the Sky

  7. The ship of love

  8. A Dangerous Disguise

  9. Love became theirs

  10. Love drives in

  11. Sailing to Love

  12. The Star of Love

  13. Music is the soul of Love

  14. Love in the East

  15. Theirs to Eternity

  16. A Paradise on Earth

  17. Love Wins in Berlin

  18. In Search of Love

  19. Love Rescues Rosanna

  20. A Heart in Heaven

  21. The House of Happiness

  22. Royalty Defeated by Love

  23. The White Witch

  24. They Sought Love

  25. Love is the Reason for Living

  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.

  “Love is the reason for living, and it is certainly the reason for everything else in the universe as well.”

  Barbara Cartland

  CHAPTER ONE - 1871

  “Excuse me, my Lady, but Mrs. Palmer wishes to see you at once in her office.”

  The maid bobbed a curtsy and Lady Novella Crownley put down her book with a sigh.

  ‘I wonder what she can want,’ she thought to herself, as she walked down the numerous corridors to the Headmistress’s office.

  The past few years had been difficult for Lady Novella. After having been a pupil at the Chelford School for Young Ladies, she had stayed on as a tutor after her father, the Earl of Crownley, had died.

  Her mother had said that it was for the best that Novella remained at the school until such time as the Earl�
�s complicated estate had been settled.

  Novella was an only child and a girl at that, and so her inheritance, in law, was definitely not automatic. It was with utter relief that she had received the news that her father had left a watertight will naming her and the Countess as joint beneficiaries.

  But that was eighteen months ago – so why, wondered Novella, was Mrs. Palmer summoning her to her office? The occasion reminded her so much of that day when she had imparted the dreadful news of her father’s sudden death, and Novella hoped fervently that she was not about to tell her that her mother had passed away too.

  So it was with a shaking hand that she knocked on the oak door of Mrs. Palmer’s office. After a long moment, she bade her enter.

  “Ah, Novella, thank you for coming so promptly.”

  She paused and took out a pair of eyeglasses that she immediately placed on her nose.

  “I have received a letter from your mother.”

  “Not bad news, I trust?” asked Novella, her heart in her mouth.

  “For you perhaps not, but for Chelford School, it is not the best of news.”

  “I am afraid I do not understand.”

  “Your mother asks that you be relieved of your duties at Chelford school in order to return to Crownley Hall.”

  “Does she say why in the letter that it is now the right time for me to return home?” asked Novella.

  “I am afraid that there is no further information in her letter,” replied Mrs. Palmer, taking off her glasses. “But I am certain that you will be happy to be at home once more.

  “Novella, it has been a pleasure to have you at Chelford school, but I always knew that your employment here was not going to be forever. The girls will be sorry to lose you – you are popular as well as attractive – and I would like to thank you for your singular dedication to their education. I have made up your salary to the end of the month, but you are free to leave right away should you so choose.”

  “But the girls – ” stammered Novella, completely overwhelmed by this latest turn of events, “I should like to say – my goodbyes to them.”

  “In that case,” announced Mrs. Palmer, standing up, “I would suggest that we make arrangements for you to leave tomorrow after assembly. That will give ample opportunity for you to take your last class this afternoon and to pack up your belongings.”

  The tall woman moved towards Novella and in an uncharacteristic gesture, threw her arms around the young girl and embraced her.

  “You have had a difficult start to your adult life, Novella,” she said, releasing her, “but you have shown an admirable strength of character that I am certain will aid you in the outside world. Make no mistake, my dear, living in a scholastic world shields one from some of life’s more unpleasant elements, but I am in no doubt that whatever you choose to do from hereon in, you will make a success of it.”

  By now, Novella was crying. She felt immensely sad at leaving the school – it had provided her with a place of retreat after her father had died as well as invaluable companionship.

  Wiping her eyes, Novella left Mrs. Palmer’s office. As she retraced her steps along those corridors, she could scarcely believe that so soon she would be leaving them behind forever.

  Back in her room, she sat down at her desk and wrote a letter to her mother, informing her that she would be leaving Chelford school just before noon and expected that she would arrive at Crownley Hall late that evening.

  She wrote,

  “Dearest Mama,

  Please be sure to ask Wargrave to have the carriage meet me at the station. I cannot wait to see you all again. I have missed my horse, Salamander, more than I can say and the first thing I shall do upon my return, after kissing you, is to visit him!”

  ‘I do hope that Sally is still at the Hall,’ thought Novella, as she began to pack her belongings. ‘And Harry and Gerald.’

  She thought of all the other staff at Crownley Hall who had served her since she was small. Sally was her personal maid and although Novella had been too young for a lady’s maid as such, she viewed Sally as being as good as one. She often gave Sally little presents of clothes that she had outgrown or no longer wanted.

  ‘I shall miss everyone so much, but the time has come for me to go out into the world. Mrs. Palmer is right, I am young and should not be spending my days locked up in a girls school.’

  Novella was thinking of love and marriage. Although she had not been in the least bit interested in either since her father had died, she was aware that time was marching on and that it would be to her that the family would look to when it came to supplying an heir.

  At twenty, Novella did not realise just how beautiful she had grown – nor did she see the admiring looks she garnered from young men when she walked with her pupils through the town.

  ‘I do hope that Mama is well,’ sighed Novella, taking the photograph of her down from her chest of drawers, ‘she did not write to me about her health or her well-being, which is most strange seeing as Mama is obsessed with both.’

  She smiled to herself at the recollection of her mother calling for the smelling salts at the slightest excuse. She was what her father had described as being ‘delicate’, so Novella was pleased that she had inherited his constitution rather than hers.

  The Earl had been a strong and handsome man, who even in his last years appeared much younger than he actually was. Which is why it had been such a shock when he had fallen down dead after a day’s hunting. He was never off a horse and he had brought Novella up in much the same fashion.

  ‘I cannot wait to see Salamander!’ said Novella to herself once more, ‘it has been so long since I last rode him. I do hope that those stable boys have been taking him out for regular gallops. He gets so cross when he is just left in the field or the stables. Yes, as much as I long to see Mama, I equally long to see my beloved Salamander.’

  *

  All too soon, the next morning dawned. There had been many tears when she had announced in art class that she would be leaving the day after – and she had been deeply touched by her pupils’ reaction.

  The last assembly was an emotional affair and many of the girls were openly weeping. They presented Novella with a bunch of flowers and an amber pendant.

  A small group of girls was given permission to skip lessons and accompany Novella to the station. She could not have wished for a better send off.

  As the train pulled out of Chelford station, she waved her handkerchief, blinded with tears and smoke from the train’s engine, until the platform was out of sight.

  Settling down into her first class carriage, Novella soon drifted into a reverie, recalling everything that had occurred over the past few years.

  She had been a very good student, with the possibility of art school ahead of her, when that awful day came when Mrs. Palmer had called her into her study to inform her that her beloved Papa had died.

  Even though Novella was just months away from completing her education, she threw aside all notions of going to art school in Paris and was about to pack up and return to Crownley Hall in Surrey, when her mother had written to her saying that it was best if she stayed put.

  ‘To think I believed that the world had come to an end!’ Novella told herself, as she looked out of the window at the passing fields. ‘How young and silly I was.’

  When Mrs. Palmer had suggested that Novella might like to stay on as a tutor at Chelford school, teaching the girls art and needlework, she had jumped at the chance. Dedicating herself to the girls made her forget her heartache.

  ‘And now I am on my way back home.’ she thought, more than a little bit excited. ‘But I wonder what I will do with myself now that I am no longer teaching?’

  Until the day that her father’s will had been settled, Novella’s salary was the only income that had kept her afloat.

  As a result of having to be frugal, even when she came into her money, she still continued her parsimonious habits. It did not occur to her that she could spend h
er days shopping for pretty gowns or fine hats, or that she was now rich enough to buy a whole stable of horses.

  *

  It was nearly dark when the train eventually pulled into Crownley Station. Novella was very tired, as she had needed to change trains twice and take a cab across London to Waterloo.

  Stepping down from the train, she was followed by a porter who had kindly unloaded her bags onto a trolley for her.

  Novella hardly recognised the station as she had travelled by carriage at Christmas – it was some time since she had last been there and it had been completely renovated. There were flower boxes and a new waiting room.

  “Which way is the exit?” she asked perplexed, after finding that the waiting room stood where the old exit had been.

  “This way, my Lady,” replied the porter, gruffly.

  He led her to the front of the station where Novella was surprised and disappointed to find that no carriage stood waiting for her.

  “Can I hail a carriage for you, my Lady?” asked the porter.

  “That will not be necessary, thank you. My own carriage should be here soon.”

  “Well, that was the last train through, my Lady, so I will be leaving shortly myself. If you are sure you do not need a carriage, then I will bid you goodbye.”

  ‘This is most strange!’ she said to herself, hearing a distant clock strike eleven. ‘Mama would have guessed that I would have been on the last train and would surely have sent Harry or Gerald to fetch me.’

  Just then, she saw a man looming out of the shadows behind her.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, miss. Do you have the time?”

  “Why, yes,” said Novella, bringing her wrist up to see her watch more clearly.

  What happened next seemed to go by in a flash. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground and her bag had gone.

  “Stop! Thief! He has stolen my bag!” she cried.

  She started to run after the thief but he had disappeared. There was no one around and the station was deserted. Tears began to stream down her face.