A Change of Hearts Read online

  However, it made enough to provide Neisa with a better education, though not enough to provide her with the clothes she needed..

  A great believer in the power of education, Patrick made sure Neisa had tutors in several languages and subjects that girls of her age were not usually taught, like science.

  And they were so happy in their small Vicarage that she did not complain about their lack of money for luxuries.

  Meanwhile, Neisa’s Aunt Alice had compensated for what her grandfather, the Earl of Stoner, considered her parent’s disgraceful and outrageous marriage.

  She had married a man who, though not titled, was well on the way to becoming very rich through his many business contacts in America.

  The young businessman, Clive Waverton, had met the Earl quite by chance at a dinner party and the Earl had been very interested in all his clever plans for the future.

  Promptly inviting Mr. Waverton to stay at his attractive ancestral home, he was delighted to introduce his eldest daughter, Alice, to the young man who had so impressed him.

  Just as Patrick had done with Elizabeth, the young man fell head over heels in love with her.

  This time the Earl made certain that no one should interfere at the wedding and spirit the bride away.

  He need not have worried as Alice was as much in love with Clive Waverton as he was with her.

  Once married, they travelled to America and it was many years before they had returned to England for a long visit and Alice finally got in touch with Patrick Moore.

  A kind woman who had also experienced true love, she wanted to hear all about her sister’s death and also try to heal the breach in the family.

  What she discovered was that Patrick’s daughter, Neisa, was almost the same age as her daughter Carol – in fact there were only a few months between them.

  The two girls met and formed an immediate liking for each other and it seemed as though the cousins would grow up together.

  However, Clive Waverton had too much at stake in America to stay for too long in England.

  He also found that his wife’s family and his father in-law, who had grown old and rather grumpy, a bore.

  So he cut short the visit, swept up his family and returned to America.

  And it was two years before Patrick and Neisa learned that Alice had died in Colorado. After exchanging letters of condolence it became clear that there was no question of Carol and her father returning to England and it seemed that the two girls were parted forever.

  Then unexpectedly a month ago, Neisa received a letter from Carol saying that they were coming to London for the Season.

  Carol wrote,

  “I am now eighteen, as you are, and Papa wishes me to meet with all the smart people in Society. So he has bought a large house in London where he will give a ball for me.

  Of course, I am expecting you to come to it, dearest Neisa, and it will be so lovely to see you again.

  I have already received two proposals of marriage and I wonder how many you have had!

  I will tell you all about it when we meet, so please come to see me as soon as you can.

  Affectionately,

  Your cousin, Carol.”

  Neisa showed the letter to her father who remarked,

  “Well, I expect Waverton will do things in style for his daughter, which is more, my dearest, than I can do for you.”

  “I know that, Papa, but I am very happy, so don’t worry, please.”

  She did not want to admit it, but she thought that it would be impossible for her to attend Carol’s ball.

  She did not own a smart evening gown and it would be unthinkable at present for her father to find the money for one.

  They managed in the Vicarage with just the help of a woman who came in daily to clean the floors and do the washing.

  Neisa did all the cooking and she knew better than anyone how difficult it was to make ends meet.

  There was, however, always a scintilla of hope that her father’s next book would bring in a little more than the last, but travel books on unexplored and unknown places in far-off lands were not particularly popular.

  Everyone appeared to be absorbed with the Social world and the love affairs of the Prince of Wales.

  Although she did not say so, Neisa thought that if her father would only write a novel in which the hero had a title, he would have a far better chance of it being a success.

  Unfortunately he could only write about the African tribes and unfamiliar religions practised in Oriental countries.

  Soon after Carol’s letter arrived at the Vicarage, her father told Neisa that he had to travel to London.

  “There is a meeting at Lambeth Palace which I am forced to attend, and this is the chance, my dearest, for you to see your cousin.”

  Neisa was thrilled at the idea.

  There was, however, no time to write and tell Carol that she was coming.

  She and her father set off the following morning in the ancient and dilapidated gig he drove around the parish in.

  It took them three hours to reach London.

  Then because he was in a hurry, he deposited Neisa outside the house in Park Lane and drove off.

  He did not think of explaining to his daughter what she should do if Carol was not at home – he merely told her that he would pick her up at five o’clock or perhaps later.

  *

  Neisa was now waiting in the exquisitely furnished sitting room.

  She was sending up a little prayer that Carol would be pleased to see her cousin again as she did not want to be an encumbrance in the house until her father collected her.

  The door opened and the butler asked her,

  “Will you come this way please, miss?”

  She walked into the hall and the butler went ahead of her up the stairs.

  The house provided exactly the sort of background she expected of Clive Waverton, as he was so rich.

  She could not help wishing that her mother were with her to talk about the artists who had painted the magnificent pictures on the walls of the imposing staircase and the age of the highly polished furniture.

  Lady Elizabeth had been bought up in an old house and she had been a regular visitor at all the neighbouring houses, most of which were even older than her father’s.

  She therefore knew a great deal about furniture and pictures and she had taught her daughter all she knew.

  When they had the chance, even when Neisa was small, her mother had taken her to museums and made her learn how her ancestors had lived.

  “You must have really missed all this,” Neisa asked her once, “when you married Papa and we stayed in such strange foreign places?”

  Her mother had laughed.

  “I enjoyed every moment of it! Equally I want you to have good taste and to understand what is historically correct, as that is the way your grandfather’s family would always expect to live.”

  Neisa and the butler by now had reached the top of the staircase.

  He walked down a wide passage and knocked at a door.

  A voice called out,

  “Come in!”

  He opened the door and announced regally,

  “Miss Neisa Moore, Miss Carol.”

  Carol was sitting on a four-poster bed, half dressed.

  She jumped up when she saw Neisa and ran to her.

  “Neisa!” she exclaimed. “How wonderful to see you! I didn’t know you were coming to London.”

  “I didn’t know myself until last night. Papa has an urgent meeting at Lambeth Palace today and we left very early this morning. There was no time to let you know.”

  “All that matters is that you are here, Neisa. Let me look at you! It is two years since we last saw each other and we have both grown up.”

  Neisa was looking at Carol, thinking she was even lovelier than she had been when she was younger.

  She was aware that her cousin’s long fair hair was arranged in accordance with the latest fashion and that she was wearing
a pale blue negligee, lavishly trimmed with lace.

  It perfectly matched her eyes and accentuated the translucence of her pale skin.

  “You look so lovely, Carol, really lovely.”

  “That is what everybody tells me, but I don’t believe a word of it.”

  “Why ever not?” enquired Neisa.

  “Because they flatter and make a fuss of me only because I am rich and that is why I am already fed up with London and want to go back to America.”

  “Oh no, Carol! How can you ever say that when you have only just arrived? It is so fantastic to see you!”

  “It is fantastic to see you too,” sighed Carol. “At least we can be frank with each other about ourselves. You are not interested in me just for what I have in my pockets, but what I have in my brain.”

  She spoke bitterly and Neisa said in a soft voice,

  “You must tell me all about it, but here is a small present I bought you. I meant to keep it for your birthday, but it has come into bloom and, as I was coming to London with Papa, I brought it with me.”

  She held out the potted plant and Carol took it.

  “It’s delicious,” she cried. “Thank you, dearest. I would much rather be given this beautiful plant than all the jewels in Tiffany’s!”

  Neisa laughed.

  “Well, I am not likely to go there, but it’s not like you to talk in that bitter way. What has upset you?”

  Carol walked across the room to a large sofa.

  “Come and sit down,” she suggested, “and before you do so, take off that ugly hat! I want to look at you and see if you are still as exquisite as you used to be with your glorious auburn curls.”

  Neisa obeyed and agreed with her about the hat, but it was the only one she could keep firmly on her head when she was driving beside her father – there was no question of buying another one.

  “There, that’s a great deal better and you are indeed even lovelier than I could possibly remember. I expect, as you have come such a long way, you would like something to eat and drink.”

  “A cup of coffee would be lovely.”

  Carol rang a bell.

  When the maid came almost instantly, she gave the order for coffee and something to eat.

  The maid vanished quickly and Carol threw herself down on the sofa.

  She was looking critically at Neisa without her hat and her driving cape.

  Her dress was very plain and almost threadbare in places, but it revealed her small waist and very elegant figure.

  “Are you looking forward to my ball? I told you about it in my letter?” asked Carol.

  There was a short silence before Neisa replied,

  “Of course I would love to come, but it may not be possible.”

  “What can you mean – not possible? I am expecting you and your father to stay here with us.”

  “I do know how much he would enjoy it. It is just that I, I – ”

  “Just what, Neisa?”

  “I really have – nothing – to wear.”

  Carol gave a little cry.

  “Oh, Neisa, how could I have been so selfish and so thoughtless not to remember how poor you are. Of course all my clothes are yours – anything you want. I should have thought of it before.”

  She gave an exclamation as a rebuke to herself.

  “I have thrown away so many things I did not want. I never for a moment thought of sending them to you.”

  “Well, I can assure you that I should be very grateful for small mercies, because things have been so difficult lately. But Papa will have a new book coming out soon and I am praying that it will be a big success.”

  “And you are struggling on at the Vicarage, looking after your father and not enjoying any of the lovely things you ought to be enjoying? Oh, Neisa, do please forgive me for being so idiotic! I am very sorry.”

  “You are not to worry yourself, Carol. After all we live in different worlds and I manage more or less all right in mine.”

  “That is not good enough, Neisa, and as we have always been about the same size, I am going to dress you as you ought to be dressed and you shall have the prettiest dress in London to wear at my ball!”

  Neisa’s eyes were shining.

  “It is so kind of you,” she enthused. “I have never forgotten how you shared almost everything with me when we were last together, which now seems such a long time ago.”

  “I only wish I could change places with you,” Carol said bitterly. “I am fed up to the teeth with being myself.”

  The tone in her voice and the expression in her eyes that Neisa had not understood were back again.

  She put out her hand.

  “What is wrong, Carol? Tell me! You have always confided in me when we had the chance.”

  “It is quite simple. It is money. You don’t know what it is like, Neisa, to realise that the only thing people are interested in is not who you are, but what you possess.”

  “I am sure that is not true,” protested Neisa.

  Carol hesitated for a moment, then carried on,

  “I will tell you happened last night.”

  “What happened?”

  “There is a young man, Harry, whom I have seen a number of times since we came to London, who I thought was very attractive. He certainly said the most fascinating things to me and paid me greater compliments than I have ever had before.”

  She sighed.

  “I began to feel that I was really falling in love with him and it was difficult not to believe that he really loved me.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Last night we were at a dinner party and later we started dancing and then more young gentlemen arrived which made us for the moment rather short of girls. I was dancing with another man instead of Harry. I found him rather a bore, so I left him before the dance ended and went to look for the man I really wanted to be with.”

  “And then – ?” enquired Neisa, feeling sure it had been something dramatic.

  “He was in the room with one other man, and they were having a drink. I was about to go through the door to join them when I heard the other man say,

  ‘What happened to Anthea, old boy? I thought last time I saw you that you were very keen on each other.’

  ‘We were,’ said Harry. ‘But when it is a question of money, there is only one direction one can take.’

  The other man gave a quiet laugh.

  ‘I understand, Harry, and good luck to you if you bring it off.’

  “That is what I heard, Neisa, now are you surprised that I hate my money and wish I was like you?”

  “I am sorry that you should have been so upset by what you heard, but not all men are the same and you are so pretty that the right man will love you for yourself and not for what you possess.”

  “Do you really think anyone could see me except through a golden haze?” Carol asked bitterly. “No, Neisa, money will always come first. After what happened last night, I shall never believe anything a man says to me, as I will always think that he is looking at my cheque book and not at me.”

  “But you cannot go through life like that!” Neisa exclaimed. “It’s ridiculous, – absurd! Of course, darling Carol, you will fall in love, as your father fell in love with your mother and she with him.”

  “It only happens once in a thousand years,” Carol said scornfully. “Papa did not marry Mama for money and she would not have cared if he had been as poor as your father.”

  She gave a little sigh.

  “If I loved a man, it would not matter to me if he had not a penny in the world. But men are different – they want money, money and more money! If a girl has it with a face like a rhinoceros, it would not worry them!”

  There were tears in Carol’s eyes.

  She rose from the sofa to open a drawer and find a handkerchief.

  “I made a fool of myself,” she said in a low voice. “But Harry was so persuasive that I believed him.”

  Neisa knew there was little she could do.


  She only thought it was very cruel that anyone as sweet and kind as Carol should become so disillusioned.

  “I am so sorry, dearest Carol, but not all men are the same and you must remember most girls would give their right hand to change places with you.”

  “I only wish they could!”

  Then she gave a little cry.

  “I have an idea!”

  She spoke in a completely different voice and Neisa asked,

  “What is it?”

  “I received this letter this morning. It is here by my bed. Let me read it to you.”

  She picked up the letter and sat down on the sofa next to her cousin.

  “I was not very interested when it arrived, but now I think it may help me in a way I did not anticipate.”

  “What does the letter say?”

  “It is from the Marquis of Denholme and there is a very impressive crest on his writing paper. It comes from Denholme Park in Kent.”

  Neisa was listening intently as Carol read out,

  “My dear Miss Waverton,

  I have just arrived home from New York, where I met your father. He told me that he had bought a house in London for you for the Season and that you are holding a ball next month. He kindly extended an invitation, which I have accepted, to be present.

  I would therefore very much like to return his hospitality by inviting you to stay for the weekend at my house in Kent. I realise that it is short notice, but the invite is for this Friday. I do hope you are free.

  I was having a party anyway and my aunt, Lady Sarah Holme, will be acting as my hostess and chaperone.

  It would give me very great pleasure if you would join my house party on Friday at luncheon time and stay until Monday.

  We have a parade organised in the afternoon of the horses that will compete in my steeplechase, which takes place on Saturday.

  I expect that most of my guests will be strangers to you and I would be delighted if you would like to bring a friend with you. I think at the moment we will have more gentlemen than ladies in the party.

  I am much hoping you will accept my invitation.

  With best wishes

  Sheldon Denholme.”

  Carol finished reading it and Neisa exclaimed,

  “It sounds a very nice invitation and, of course, you must accept.”

  “You see, he says that I shall not know anyone in the party, which means that his friends are not the same as those who have entertained me since Papa and I came to London.”