The Devil Defeated Read online

  Somehow they had survived and now when she was secretly hoping that perhaps the new Earl would understand how prices had increased since the war and would raise her father’s stipend, the story of the parties taking place in the Big House did nothing to reassure her that any improvements were likely.

  It seemed incredible that the Earl should not have come down alone or at least with perhaps one friend, to get to know his household, the people on the estate and, of course, his neighbours.

  The first thing they learned on his return to England was that he had opened the house in London, which, because the last Earl had been an old man and in ill health, had been closed for years.

  Before then he had sent a new Manager to Yarde to make changes before he could return from France, but to the villagers the changes were horrifying.

  Old Burrows, the butler, who had been at Yarde for over forty years, had been retired, so was Mrs. Meadows, the housekeeper, and a number of the other members of the household staff were moved out with her.

  At first the inhabitants of Little Sodbury could hardly believe what was happening.

  They all called on Nanny to discuss it in the kitchen of the Vicarage and Dorina could hear their voices rising and falling, but always with the same note of condemnation that seemed to echo round the passages and anywhere else she happened to be in the house.

  She could understand so well what they were feeling.

  Because the people in the village had always thought of themselves as being part of the Yarde family, they would say, just as the servants at the Big House said, ‘we will be doing this,’ and ‘we will be doing that’.

  The new Manager was a young man who Dorina learned had been in the Army with Oscar Yarde before he came into the title.

  She had not met him, but she had seen him walking about the village, inspecting some of the houses and going into The Green Dragon, where it was reported he drank an inordinate amount of brandy and showed no interest in sampling the local ale.

  He was a rather cocky-looking man and she suspected that he was not exactly a gentleman, but she tried not to condemn him as the rest of the village had from the moment he arrived.

  “I says to him,” she heard one of the servants from the Big House say, “‘that’s how it’s always been done, sir,’ and he says to me, ‘well, the sooner there are changes here the better’.”

  Changes, changes – after that it was all anybody could talk about and old Burrows, who had always seemed to her to look like a benevolent Bishop, moved into a dilapidated cottage that had been offered to him on his retirement.

  Now he looked only a sad, elderly little man who had somehow lost what had always been very precious to him, his pride.

  “That man has no right to be in his Lordship’s place!” Nanny said angrily after she had heard of several more changes that had been made up at the Big House. “If I ever gets the chance, I’ll give him a piece of my mind!”

  Dorina thought with a faint sense of amusement that that was what a lot of other people also would like to do and she herself felt the same.

  ‘How can he allow such things to happen without first coming here to see for himself?’ she asked herself.

  Then, as she despaired of the new Earl ever appearing, she woke up one morning to be told that he had arrived unexpectedly, late the night before, and was arranging for a large party to join him for the weekend.

  ‘It is not the way he should have taken over his Kingdom,’ she said to herself.

  That, she thought, was exactly what Yarde was, a ‘Kingdom’ for any man who understood how fortunate he was to have inherited a crown that had been lost by two young men who had died valiently for their country.

  ‘I think I hate him!’ Dorina had muttered when Sunday had passed without there being anybody in the Yarde family pew at Church.

  And stories were already buzzing around the village as to what was happening ‘up at the Big House’.

  She tried not to listen, but it was impossible not to be interested in the ladies, whose faces, according to one of the housemaids, were powdered and painted as if they were appearing in a Playhouse.

  There were stories, too, of gentlemen whose behaviour was whispered only to Nanny, so that she was not quite certain what they had done but, whatever it was, it was exceedingly reprehensible.

  As Dorina finished washing up the dishes they had used for luncheon, Nanny said,

  “I’m going down to the village to see if I can find anything for supper. There’s not a thing in the house, but I doubt if Mr. Banks will let us have much more credit!”

  Mr. Banks was the butcher and Dorina was continually ashamed of how long he often had to wait to be paid the Vicarage account, even if it was not a very large one.

  “I will talk to Papa tonight,” she said to Nanny, “but I doubt if he can spare me a penny until next month.”

  “By that time we’ll all be in our graves!” Nanny replied sharply. “If you asks me, someone should point out to the new Earl that instead of wasting his money on wine and women, who are no better than they should be, he ought to be doing something for those who are his responsibility and no one else’s!”

  That was what Dorina felt too, but there was no point in saying so.

  Putting on her black bonnet and a shawl over her shoulders, Nanny set off with her string bag in her hand.

  Dorina, having watched her go, thought that she might go into the garden and join her father.

  She had the feeling, however, that he did not really want to be disturbed and she wondered instead if she might go for a walk.

  Then she remembered that, as she had forbidden Rosabelle and Peter to go into the Park or in the woods, she must observe the same ban.

  It seemed incredible that the woods, which had meant so much to her ever since she was a small child, should now be out of bounds.

  She knew that Rosabelle had been right when she said that it was boring to have only the dusty lanes to walk along instead of moving over the mossy paths beneath the high trees.

  To Dorina the woods had an enchantment that never failed to soothe away any unhappiness she might be feeling. They had for her a magic that was impossible to put into words, but it was there every time she moved amongst the trees and heard the birds fluttering in the boughs above her.

  She felt that she had stepped from the humdrum existence of everyday life into a world where dreams came true and for her the fairies she had believed in as a child were, she was half-convinced, still real.

  There were goblins who had been far more real than those she read about in books and even now, when she was grown up and, she told herself, sensible, she still found herself thinking there must be dragons in the great fir woods that lay to the North.

  ‘If I cannot go into the woods,’ she asked herself, ‘then where can I go?’

  She felt a surge of anger against the new Earl that was a culmination of everything that had gone wrong ever since William had been killed.

  Deep in thought, she was suddenly aware of a knock on the back door.

  Knowing that Nanny was still out and there was no one else to answer it except herself, she hurried down the passage into the kitchen and, opening the door, found outside one of the women from the village.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Bell!” she said. “I am afraid, if you have come to see Nanny, you have just missed her.”

  “It’s you, Miss Dorina, I really want to see,” Mrs. Bell replied in a rather hesitating voice.

  Dorina smiled.

  “Well, I am here. Come on in!”

  Mrs. Bell walked in through the open door and, because Dorina sensed that she had something important to say, she took her not into the kitchen but into a small room where she habitually sat when she wanted to be on her own.

  Mrs. Bell was obviously impressed and Dorina suggested,

  “Come and sit down, Mrs. Bell, and tell me what is worrying you. I hope there is nothing wrong with Mary and that she is happy working at the Big House.
”

  “It’s about Mary I’ve come to speak to you. I suppose really I should see the Vicar, but, although I respect your father and I know he’s a good man, almost too good for this life, it’s just that I feel a little embarrassed, so to speak, and I finds it easier talking to you.”

  Wondering what all this could be about, Dorina said,

  “Of course you can tell me anything you want to, Mrs. Bell, just as I know that if my mother was alive, you would have talked to her. So what is wrong?”

  Mrs. Bell drew in her breath and told her.

  *

  Having said goodbye to several of his guests who had arranged to return to London after an early luncheon, the Earl walked into the library.

  He stood for a moment looking at the thousands of books which filled the shelves and constituted one of the most important libraries in the whole country.

  He was thinking that since he had discovered the majority of them were uncatalogued, he supposed, when he had time to put his mind to it, that he would appoint a Curator. An inventory could then be made of everything in the house and the books could be properly catalogued.

  He walked to the window to look out over the Park, where the spotted deer could be seen sheltering in the shadows of the trees from the heat of the afternoon sun.

  He thought, as he had from the moment he had arrived, that Yarde was even more impressive than he had ever dreamt it would be.

  He could still hardly believe that he was now the owner of such magnificence.

  It was the same feeling he had had ever since he had learned nearly eighteen months ago that Charles Yarde had been killed and he was therefore the direct heir to the Earl, who, he had learnt, was dying.

  It seemed incredible, completely and absolutely incredible, that he, who had had no prospects except those of rising steadily in the Army, in which he had already achieved a remarkable success, should now through the misfortunes of war have inherited an old and revered title, a house and an estate that he had always heard his father speak of both with awe and respect.

  Although he would have liked to visit Yarde, it had never been suggested that he should do so and he had felt no strong interest in it.

  Although he had been at Eton like his cousins, they were younger than he was and he could only remember being there with William for less than one year.

  He had left Eton to go straight into his father’s Regiment, fired with an ambition to distinguish himself and knowing that war would give him an opportunity of doing so, which he might never have had in peacetime.

  He had enjoyed his life in the Army and, if he was honest, he had enormously enjoyed holding a senior position in the Army of Occupation.

  This had been due partly to his outstanding record as a soldier, but equally to the fact that shortly after the Duke of Wellington had established him in France, the old Earl of Yardecombe had died.

  To suddenly find himself of considerable social significance was something Oscar Yarde had never expected or even imagined might ever happen to him.

  He soon learnt that his position in life was now very different from what it had been for him as a clever, handsome and very attractive soldier.

  At first he was overwhelmed by the attention that was paid to him, not only by the diplomats and politicians, but also by the ladies of the Social world who had never noticed him before.

  Because the Duke was living in Paris and his staff with him, as soon as it was safe to do so, a large number of attractive women arrived from England.

  They all had good excuses for being there – they were either the wives, sisters or fiancées of Staff Officers or had some connection with the British Ambassador, which made it imperative for them to assist him in what was at the moment the most important diplomatic post in Europe.

  Whatever their reasons for being in Paris, their beauty was alluring and the Earl of Yardecombe found it impossible to escape their blandishments. He would indeed have been inhuman if he had not accepted what was now so readily offered to him.

  He was not particularly conceited, but he would have been very stupid if he had not realised that, because he was so good-looking and certainly he looked the part in his uniform, women had always gravitated towards him as if to a magnet.

  He had therefore found himself involved in numerous love affairs whenever he was not actually fighting the enemy.

  Now, when there was plenty of time to enjoy himself as well as work quite hard, for Wellington kept his Officers at it and the new Earl found that he had moved up many rungs to the top of the social ladder.

  Ladies whom he would never have thought of approaching in the past now sought him out and made it clear what they wanted from him.

  There were also in Paris, and this was something in which the French excelled, the most fascinating and alluring courtesans that any man could wish to find.

  That they were expensive went without saying, but it would have been impossible for any man to live in Paris for long without savouring a unique experience that could not be found in any other Capital.

  By the time the Army of Occupation, on the insistence of the French, was being run down and diminished in number, so that quite a few senior Officers could go home, the Earl of Yardecombe’s education in the art of l’amour had opened new horizons for him and he had become as proficient a lover as he was a soldier.

  He had gone back to England finding himself, almost for the first time since he had inherited, really curious about his new possessions and determined to learn everything he could about them as quickly as possible.

  He did not feel he had wasted his time in Paris, for he knew it would have been extremely inconvenient not only for himself but for the Duke of Wellington if he had insisted on returning earlier.

  He knew now that he had to make up for lost time and he went first to London to open Yarde House, which he had been told was ready to receive him even though his predecessor had not stayed there for many years before he died.

  Yarde House in Berkeley Square was most impressive and he had no sooner arrived than he was greeted effusively by a cousin he had not even known existed.

  He introduced himself as Jarvis Yarde and proceeded to make himself indispensable in a way that the Earl had to admit was extremely convenient.

  It was Jarvis who knew who was the best tailor patronised by the Prince Regent and approved of by all the members of White’s, the best Club in London, to which the Earl was promptly introduced and elected as a member.

  It was Jarvis also who took him to Wattiers and Carlton House where, to his surprise, the Prince Regent greeted him with open arms and insisted that for the next few days he should be in attendance upon him.

  Finally, although not least, Jarvis took him to the most fashionable houses of pleasure in St. James’s, which, although he was too tactful to say so, were not in his opinion anything near as good as those in Paris.

  There was so much to do in London, so many people to meet, and suddenly, without his conscious intention, he found himself involved in a passionate love affair with Lady Maureen Wilson.

  He had met Lady Maureen briefly in Paris and, since her husband was still conveniently engaged in his duties there, she was free to help him enjoy the pleasures of London.

  That, the Earl found, meant that he enjoyed her and Cousin Jarvis waited in the wings until he could command his full attention once again.

  It was over three weeks before the Earl said firmly that he intended to go to the country and inspect Yarde.

  He intended, and he pointed this out quite carefully, to go down alone, inspect the house and the estate and, of course, get to know his employees and any neighbours who wished to make his acquaintance.

  But Jarvis had other ideas.

  “Of course you must go to Yarde,” he said.

  Then almost before the Earl was aware of what was happening, he found that he was giving a party for a number of people whose hospitality he had accepted in London and Lady Maureen was invited as his special gue
st.

  Soon all the State rooms were ringing with their laughter.

  He found himself sitting at the head of the table in the huge banqueting hall where his ancestors had sat before him and whose portraits stared down at him, he hoped approvingly.

  The candles in the gold chandeliers glittered, as did the jewels on the heads and round the necks of his lady guests, while their low décolletage, he could not help thinking, would in the past have made him blush.

  It was a rowdy, riotous party and he could not help enjoying himself with Lady Maureen, but it gave him no time to do everything he had intended.

  Now that most of them had either left or were soon leaving, he told himself severely that he must get down to work.

  ‘I am sure there is a great deal to be done,’ he thought with a feeling that of excitement.

  Here was something new, here was a job as complicated and difficult as if he was going into battle in which success or failure depended entirely upon himself.

  He heard the library door open and turned from the window expecting it to be one of his remaining guests, but the butler announced,

  “Miss Dorina Stanfield, my Lord!”

  A girl came into the room and one glance at her told the Earl that she was very young, very lovely and extremely badly dressed.

  As she walked slowly towards him, he became aware with a feeling of surprise that she was looking straight at him and in her large grey eyes was an expression not only of what was unmistakable anger but also of positive dislike.

  Chapter two

  The Earl walked towards Dorina and held out his hand.

  “How do you do, Miss Stanfield.”

  To his surprise she ignored his hand, but dropped him a small curtsey before she said,

  “I have called to see you, my Lord, on a very important matter.”

  The way she accentuated the word ‘important’ made the Earl raise his eyebrows, but he merely suggested,

  “Will you sit down and tell me what this is about?”

  For a moment he thought that she was going to refuse. Then she walked to an upright chair which seemed somewhat austere amongst the more comfortable ones and sat down on the edge of it.