A Change of Hearts Read online

  “Of course not,” agreed Neisa.

  “How often can you say the same about people?” the Marquis asked. “No one knows better than you do the penalty of having so much that one is never sure how much it counts when weighed against the feelings of the heart.”

  “I do know – exactly what – you are now saying.”

  She was thinking of all the money that was making Carol’s life so miserably unhappy – so much money that was causing her to run away so that she would not have to face the look in Sir Peter’s eyes.

  It suddenly stuck Neisa that she was so incredibly lucky in a way she had never counted before.

  No one could ever love her except for herself since she possessed nothing.

  She really longed to tell the Marquis the truth, but it might make it matters worse for Carol.

  Even if she then swore him to secrecy, it would be embarrassing to admit that they had both deceived him.

  They had not been honest, as he might have expected them to be.

  ‘I love him beyond all else,’ she murmured to herself. ‘I love him as I shall never love anyone else and this is the last time I shall see him.’

  She bent forward to pat Champion again.

  He pushed his nose against her hand in a friendly gesture.

  She had the feeling, strange though it might seem, that he understood her predicament.

  More completely and more kindly than the Marquis would ever be able to do!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Marquis said goodbye to Carol and Neisa.

  “It has been a real joy having you here,” he said to Neisa. “As I told you, I am coming to London this week, perhaps Wednesday or Thursday and I will call and hope to see you.”

  Neisa smiled wistfully at him.

  When he said goodbye to Carol, she forced herself to thank him for the delightful visit.

  And only Neisa was aware that she was very near to tears and her voice sounded hoarse.

  They drove away down the drive.

  It was with difficulty that Neisa did not glance back to see if the Marquis was watching them leave.

  Carol was saying a desperate goodbye to everything that really mattered to her and she was doing the same.

  She wondered if they would have been happier if they had not come to Denholme Park in the first place.

  She knew what she felt about the Marquis and what Carol was feeling about Sir Peter was something neither of them would ever forget.

  This weekend would influence them for the rest of their lives.

  ‘There could never be another man as wonderful as the Marquis,’ Neisa told herself over and over again.

  Then she too felt like weeping, but tears were not going to help.

  There was life to be lived without the two men they loved – they had appeared in their lives so unexpectedly and just as unexpectedly they were fading away.

  They drove in silence for quite a long distance.

  Then Carol sobbed,

  “I feel as if nothing will ever matter again – and the world is completely and absolutely empty.”

  “Things will get better,” Neisa tried to comfort her. “You will find new interests and new people in America to meet and forget entirely that England has only brought you unhappiness.”

  “Papa will be disappointed. In fact I think he will be very angry with me.”

  “I know he only wants you to have the best – as he loves you so much. If you explain to him why you have returned so quickly to America, he will understand.”

  “I just cannot tell him that Peter will not marry me because I have too much money,” moaned Carol. “Papa would take it as an insult. He has worked so hard because he loved my mother. He wanted to be successful only so that he could lay his triumphs at her feet.”

  Neisa thought that was undoubtedly true.

  She recalled that when her father had experienced anything exceptional, like healing a man who had been left to die, the first person he wanted to tell how successful he had been was her mother.

  It was certainly something that would never be said by the Marquis.

  He had everything and he did not have to strive to make himself any richer or more significant.

  Then she recalled the Viscountess’s words.

  He would eventually require an heir to carry on the ancient title and the legacy of the Denholme lineage and he would also need as his wife someone whose blood was as blue as his.

  His marriage would be a great occasion whenever or wherever it took place.

  Because it hurt Neisa so much to think about the Marquis, she forced herself to ignore her own troubles and focus on Carol’s.

  “What you must do, darling, is to try to spend your money in a way where it will do good to other people.”

  “My Papa has already thought of that. He has built schools in all sorts of unlikely places and, just before I left, he was contemplating financing a University.”

  “Quite right! That is exactly what he should do!” cried Neisa.

  “So you see,” Carol replied in a gloomy voice, “no one really wants me.”

  Neisa wanted to say she was sure that Sir Peter would miss her.

  Then she thought such a remark might make things worse.

  They therefore drove on in silence until they came to the village of Little Meadowfield.

  “Do stay the night with me, Carol,” Neisa pleaded, as the gates of the Vicarage came into sight.

  “I will if you want me – miserable though I am. I don’t think at the moment I could face the prospect of Lady Margrave chattering on about how many new suitors she has found for me.”

  Carol’s voice was scathing.

  “No, of course not. Just stay quietly here. You will find Papa so immersed in writing his book, he will not even realise we have been away.”

  The horses came to a standstill outside the Vicarage front door.

  Carol climbed out first and said to the coachmen,

  “It is too late now to carry on to London. Will you find somewhere local to stay? I expect I will go up either tomorrow morning or immediately after luncheon.”

  “Very good, miss,” the coachman touched his hat.

  Carol walked into the house and Neisa looked back to see if there was any sign of the groom who was bringing Hannah and the luggage.

  She had hoped that Carol might stay the night at the Vicarage and had therefore warned Hannah that she might not be as comfortable as she had been at Denholme Park.

  “Don’t you worry about me, miss,” Hannah had replied. “I’ve roughed it in me life and it’s only thankful I am for a soft bed to lie down on, now I’m getting old.”

  Neisa had laughed.

  “You deserve every comfort, Hannah, and that is what I wish I could give you.”

  “It’s Miss Carol you has to worry about.”

  The Waverton carriage turned round and drove off.

  She and Carol walked into the sitting room and sat down.

  “I am going to be a dispirited visitor, Neisa, and if you were wise you would have sent me on to London.”

  “I am being wise in keeping you with me and you are to stay with me for just as long as you like.”

  She left Carol to find her father and found him, as she had anticipated, in the study working on his book.

  “Hello, my dear!” he exclaimed as she came into the room. “I was not expecting you back until tomorrow.”

  “I know, Papa, but Carol has a party in London and wishes to stay with us tonight so as not to make the journey too tiring.”

  She realised as she made the explanation that her father was not listening.

  “I have just finished my book,” he trumpeted.

  “You have, Papa? How splendid!”

  “I only have to make a few corrections and then it goes to the publisher.”

  “That is very exciting, Papa, and I am sure this one is the best you have ever written.”

  “I think your mother would say so and for the f
irst time I have put in the story of how we ran away together.”

  “Oh, Papa, it will certainly amuse and entrance all your readers.”

  She remembered what Lady Sarah had said and told him how much she had liked his first book.

  “Then we must certainly let her have a copy of this one once it is published. Of course I would like to meet her, if it is ever possible.”

  “Perhaps it will be some time – ” Neisa answered vaguely.

  The Vicar looked at his watch.

  “The Harrisons have just produced a new baby and I promised I would look in to see them before Evensong. I don’t suppose you will be coming to Church tonight.”

  “No, Papa, I went to Church this morning. It was a beautiful service and the choir sung splendidly.”

  “That is more than I can say of our choir,” sighed the Vicar. “It’s not all their fault. I am afraid the organ is breaking down again and the last time it was repaired they said there was nothing more they could do to it.”

  Neisa knew how much this troubled her father.

  She wondered if she could ask Carol to give them a new organ, but thought it would be a mistake.

  ‘No one wants poor relations with their hands outstretched all the time,’ she told herself.

  Then she felt a strong sense of guilt because of all the beautiful clothes that Carol had given her.

  What they had cost, she was quite sure, would have easily paid for a brand new organ.

  But she would certainly have looked very strange at Denholme Park in her own clothes!

  No one would have taken her for a rich heiress.

  ‘Money is a huge problem whether you have any or not,’ she mused.

  She went upstairs to open the spare room for Carol and to make sure the bed was made up.

  When she came down, it was to find Carol in the kitchen boiling a kettle so that they could have some tea.

  “I will do it,” insisted Neisa.

  “I am keeping myself occupied and actually I am not so helpless that I cannot do the same things as you.”

  Neisa couldn’t help thinking that it was a good thing for her cousin to be active and keep her mind off Sir Peter.

  “That is because you are intelligent and not because you have to,” Neisa retorted and they both laughed.

  As if to prove her point, Carol helped Neisa to cook what was available in the kitchen for their meal. It was nothing like as grand as the food they had been enjoying, but the girls were proud of what they had achieved with a few simple ingredients.

  The Vicar came back after the Church service and they all sat down together for an early supper.

  Only when they went upstairs to bed, did Carol say,

  “It is so kind of you to have me here, Neisa. I am sorry I am such a wet rag, but I am so miserable that it is difficult not to cry.”

  “You must be brave, Carol, and don’t leave us for London too soon.”

  “I must go to America as soon as I can. I am sure I will find things to do there which will help me forget what has happened to me in England.”

  “Don’t be in a hurry,” Neisa persisted. “You know that Lady Margrave will be determined to earn the money your father is paying her as your chaperone and will be producing Dukes and Earls galore.”

  “In that case, I shall be rude to them!”

  “Now that would be a mistake.”

  Carol gave a little cry,

  “I am so miserable I only wish to die.”

  “You are not to say such things, Carol. It only makes it worse.”

  She helped Carol undress.

  Although she knew that Carol would weep as soon as she left the room, there was nothing she could do.

  She went to her bedroom thinking that as Carol was crying for Sir Peter, she was crying for the Marquis.

  When she climbed into her bed, she was thinking of how kind he had been to her.

  She sent up a prayer to God that he would be safe.

  She was no longer there to look after him and so he would have to look after himself.

  At the same time she could not help hoping that he was missing her.

  *

  The next morning Neisa went down to breakfast early.

  She found Betsy, the woman from the village who came in to clean, had prepared it already.

  “You’ve visitors I hears, miss,” remarked Betsy.

  “Yes, I am really hoping that Miss Carol will stay for luncheon. So please find us something nice to eat.”

  “I’ve a chicken for the Vicar – ”

  “That’s splendid! We will all enjoy it”

  Chicken was always a treat at the Vicarage.

  Then she thought of all the expensive food they had enjoyed at Denholme Park and worried that Carol would think that in contrast chicken was meagre fare.

  When Carol did come downstairs, she was looking pale and there were dark lines under her eyes.

  “I am afraid you did not sleep all that well,” Neisa said, as she kissed her good morning.

  “I don’t think I slept at all.”

  “What I suggest you do now, Carol, is to go to the bottom of the garden where you will find a small summer house. Papa put an old sofa in it which we did not want in the house, but it is still very comfortable.”

  She smiled at Carol before continuing,

  “If you sit there for a while listening to the birds and hearing the water running down through the little cascade Mama made, I am sure you will go to sleep.”

  “I hope so and thank you, Neisa, for being so kind to me.”

  She ate no breakfast, but drank a cup of coffee.

  Then she went straight to the summer house at the bottom of the garden.

  It was one of Neisa’s favourite places when she had the time and she had often fallen asleep there, because it was so peaceful.

  Hannah cleared away the breakfast plates and Neisa started to tidy up the house that seemed to her to be in somewhat of a mess.

  Her father, she learned from Betsy, had gone out very early, as someone had been taken ill on one of the farms.

  Betsy went upstairs to make the beds.

  Neisa was reading her father’s book in the sitting room when she heard a knock on the front door.

  She walked across the hall and opened it.

  To her astonishment she found Sir Peter outside.

  He was just handing over the reins of his mount to the old man who looked after her father’s horse.

  When he saw Neisa at the door, Sir Peter took off his hat saying,

  “Good morning, Carol. I presume you are staying here with Neisa?”

  Neisa drew in her breath.

  With an effort she forced herself to reply,

  “Will you come into the sitting room, Sir Peter? I have something to tell you.”

  She thought he looked slightly surprised.

  He walked slowly into the hall, put his hat down on the side table and followed Neisa into the sitting room.

  “Sheldon told me,” he began “that Neisa’s father was unwell and she had to return home in a hurry. I cannot understand why she could not have waited until today.”

  There was a pause and with an effort Neisa stated,

  “I am Neisa and Carol is going back to America.”

  Sir Peter stared at her as if he did not understand.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I expect the reason you want to see my cousin is that the Admiralty has accepted your invention.”

  “That is true. I am extremely excited about it and I believe that Neisa will be too.”

  “Carol is running away, because she could not bear to tell you the truth about herself and she is desperately, really desperately unhappy.”

  “I don’t understand,” replied Sir Peter, still looking perplexed. “You said just now you are Neisa. What do you mean by that?”

  “What I mean, Sir Peter, is that I am Neisa Moore, the Vicar’s daughter, and this is my home.”

  She waited a
nd as he did not speak, she continued,

  “The girl you thought was Neisa is Carol Waverton, my cousin. We changed places because she was so bored and disgusted by men running after her and trying to marry her entirely for her money.”

  “So you changed places,” repeated Sir Peter, as if he found it all hard to believe.

  “She was invited to stay by the Marquis because her father, Mr. Waverton, had been extremely kind to him in America,” explained Neisa. “We thought, as we would be meeting different people in a very different environment, it would be a change for Carol from everyone pursuing her just because she is so rich.”

  Neisa thought Sir Peter drew in his breath.

  “Then when you talked to each other and you told her how you always intended to stand on your own feet and that you would never marry any woman who is rich, you broke her heart.”

  Neisa was watching Sir Peter as she spoke.

  She thought as she said the last words, he stiffened and pursed his lips together.

  Still he said nothing, so she went on,

  “Carol has been awake all night crying because she has to leave you. She knows that when you realise who she is, you will never want to see her again. That is exactly why, Sir Peter, if you really feel like that, it would be unnecessarily cruel and very very unkind to see her now. I think, therefore, you should leave immediately.”

  “Where is – Carol?” Sir Peter asked.

  “She is at the bottom of the garden resting in our summer house because she has been crying all night. She is exhausted, so I hope she has fallen asleep.”

  She thought Sir Peter still looked indecisive, so she added quickly,

  “Surely you are being very stupid, even though you have invented something brilliant that has been accepted by the Admiralty – ”

  “Stupid?” Sir Peter challenged sharply.

  “You must be aware that what Carol will require if she inherits all the money her father has made, is someone who could organise it for her into the right channels.”

  She realised that Sir Peter was listening intently.

  “No one with any sense would expect someone as delightful and generous as Carol to be overpowering or possessive about the wealth she does not want and does not like.