The Mountain of Love Read online

  But they were blissfully happy with each other and moved contentedly from country to country as the fancy took them.

  There was therefore no possibility of Grace making engagements to sing in concerts as she had in the past, but she often sang to Alastair when he was painting and he said it helped him more than anything else she could do.

  When Kayla was born, they were delighted with their little daughter, but it did not alter their way of life that she was now with them.

  Instead they took her to Italy, to North Africa and to Greece, but she did not remember much about the first two places.

  When she was a little older, she knew that Greece had left an indelible impression on her she could never forget.

  She was also fascinated by Egypt just as her father was and she found the Pyramids and the Valley of the Kings inspiring.

  She would dream of her most special places later in her life when she was feeling especially unhappy.

  They then returned to Paris after two years of constant travelling and Alastair was soon painting again with some of his old friends in Montmartre.

  There Alastair learned from the newspapers that his brother, the Earl of Barne, had suffered a fatal accident – it had apparently happened whilst he was out hunting.

  This meant that Alastair was now heir to his father’s Dukedom and took over his brother’s courtesy title of the Earl of Barne.

  They waited patiently, but there was no summons from his father, the Duke, for them to return to England.

  The funeral was reported in all the newspapers and a great deal was written about the late Earl.

  Several days later Alastair received a letter from the family Solicitors. They informed him that his father was prepared to accept him back as his eldest son and heir, but he must come alone.

  Grace begged him to go.

  “He is your father and I feel that it is wrong of me to keep you from him,” she sighed.

  Alastair put his arms round her.

  “I love you, my dearest darling,” he insisted. “You have made me the happiest man in the world because you are my wife. You have given me an adorable daughter and quite frankly I am not interested in being called an Earl. I am supremely happy as I am.”

  Grace knew that he was speaking the truth.

  Alastair informed the Solicitors that, if he returned to England, he would bring his wife and his daughter with him.

  If they were not welcome, he would remain in France.

  They had rented comfortable rooms in Montmartre and, although they could not afford any luxuries, Grace was an excellent cook.

  As Alastair professed, what more could they possibly desire?

  In France, as before, he did not use his title. He was known amongst his friends by the name with which he signed his pictures – Lister.

  No one was quite certain whether it was a Christian name, a surname or a nickname, but people in Montmartre had learned not to ask uncomfortable questions.

  When Alastair needed more money, he painted a few conventional pictures and these were sold for enough francs to buy some luxury he wanted or a new gown for Grace.

  What did worry them was how they could pay for a good education for Kayla when she grew older.

  Despite the fact that the Duke despised Grace as an actress, she was indeed a lady and came from a large and significant Clan of Stewarts in Scotland.

  Her father, however, had not been a rich man. He had served in the Highland Brigade with distinction and risen to the rank of Brigadier.

  It had been a French visitor to Scotland who had originally heard Grace sing.

  He insisted that she go to Paris where her voice would be appreciated. He was in fact the Conductor of an orchestra that was much respected all over France.

  Grace had lessons from a famous teacher and she then joined the orchestra and sang with it wherever it performed. It was usually in concert halls or occasionally in large private houses.

  But never, as the Duke had supposed, in the theatres that put on performances considered to be too outrageous for any lady to be a spectator.

  Alastair knew it was no use explaining the difference to his father.

  Firstly because he would not listen and secondly he would never believe that a woman who performed in public for anyone who paid to watch her was not a prostitute.

  It was not because Alastair was ashamed of what Grace did that he prevented her from singing in public after they were married.

  It was simply because he wanted her with him every hour of the day and night as they were constantly travelling from place to place.

  He rather hoped that his father would increase his allowance now that his brother was dead, but there was no mention of that possibility from the Solicitors.

  Ever since he had married Grace, the same amount arrived every quarter and it did seem rather hard when he thought of how significant Socially the Earl of Barne was in England.

  He knew that every Society mother had been anxious for his brother to be attracted to her daughter.

  Eventually Alastair learned from the newspapers that his brother had married the daughter of a Marquis, but they had produced no son.

  He thought somewhat cynically that it was obviously an arranged marriage. And there would be no question of his brother finding someone he really loved, as he had been able to do.

  “Do you really think, my precious,” he had said to his wife, “that I really regret having given up all the pomp and luxury of life at Forde Hall?”

  He had seen the question in Grace’s eyes and went on,

  “It was rather fun to be waited on by footmen with powdered wigs, to have a valet help me dress and a whole stable of magnificent horses at my disposal. At the same time, as much as I loved my home as a boy, I never knew real happiness until I met you.”

  “Is that really true?” Grace asked.

  “I promise it’s the absolute truth,” Alastair replied, “and I only hope that one day Kayla will be as happy as we are.”

  “I am sure she will be. She is already very lovely and I have a feeling that when she is grown up no man will be able to resist her.”

  “Just as I cannot resist you,” Alastair declared.

  He pulled his wife into his arms.

  When they kissed each other, they forgot everything as they were now living in a fairy tale world of beauty and perfection.

  It was when Kayla was nearly seventeen that the blow fell.

  They were returning to France from Africa.

  They had gone to Egypt for a second time because Alastair wanted to paint the desert, which he found extremely attractive and enigmatic.

  They were rather short of money, as usual, and so they had booked on a cheap ship to carry them to Marseilles. Alastair only had enough money left to pay for their passage and to transport them back to Paris.

  When they set off, they thought that the ship was dirty and it creaked alarmingly.

  Then, as so often happens in the Mediterranean Sea, a sudden storm sprang up. It flung the boat from side to side and it pitched and tossed in a most unpleasant manner.

  Grace kept to her bunk with Kayla beside her.

  They clung to each other to prevent themselves from being thrown onto the dirty unpolished floor.

  “I will go and see what is happening,” said Alastair. “I only hope the Captain is more experienced than he looks.”

  When he had boarded the ship, he had thought that the Captain, who was untidy and unshaven, appeared the worse for drink, but he hoped he was mistaken.

  He went up on deck.

  Afterwards no one knew exactly what happened.

  The ship had rolled violently.

  There was cargo stacked on the deck that was being carried from Africa to France and suddenly it slipped and spilled out over the side of the ship.

  Several men on deck including Alastair were flung down and when the ship righted itself, two of the men were missing.

  There was not the slightest chance, G
race was told, of finding her husband’s body.

  And indeed there was no proof that he was dead.

  But he could not have survived by swimming to an island since there was no island within reasonable distance of the accident.

  By the time the ship reached Marseilles, Grace was forced to face the fact that she would never see her beloved husband again.

  She and Kayla travelled on to Paris by the cheapest way possible. They had fortunately kept the rooms they had previously occupied in Montmartre and she and Kayla went straight there.

  Grace notified the Duke that his son, the Earl of Barne, had been lost at sea.

  She hoped that she would hear from him soon and that their quarterly allowance would be still be paid.

  Fortunately, whilst they had been away, the previous quarter’s cheque had arrived and this paid the rent that was considerably overdue.

  Just over a week later Grace received a letter from the Solicitors.

  This informed her that, as her husband, Alastair, was dead, his father, the Duke, would no longer continue the allowance that he had been paying his son.

  And he had no wish for any further communication with the woman the Earl had called his wife or their daughter, Kayla.

  In a way this was not really a terrible shock, since Grace had instinctively expected it.

  Another woman might have sat down and cried her eyes out hysterically, but Grace, however, was a Stewart and those who come from Scotland are always strong and resolute in the face of adversity.

  She went to see Monsieur Alpen, who had befriended her all those years ago and in whose orchestra she had sung.

  He had retired and was now a very old man.

  When she told him the plight she was in, he helped her decide what she should do.

  For the first time since she had married, Grace used her husband’s title.

  She wrote to an exclusive Convent in Florence asking them if they would take on Lady Kayla Forde as a pupil She was, Grace explained, the daughter of the late Earl of Barne and granddaughter of the Duke of Barninforde, one of the foremost families of England.

  The Mother Superior was delighted to have such an aristocratic English pupil at the Convent.

  She wrote back saying that she would expect Lady Kayla to arrive in two weeks time, which was the beginning of the summer term.

  Grace’s kind old friend, Monsieur Alpen, advanced her the money to buy the clothes Kayla would require and he also paid the bill for her first term.

  Kayla then left for Florence in a party of several other pupils escorted from Paris by a Courier and two nuns.

  As soon as she had departed, Grace went to work.

  Her old employer contacted the man who had taken over his place in the orchestra, which was still performing and delighting their audiences.

  Now it no longer played entirely classical music and it did not only perform in Concert Halls and private houses as it had in the past.

  Instead it appeared in many shows at the Theatres de Variétés and in vaudevilles as well as at smart restaurants that catered for late-night revellers.

  To start with Grace sang the classical songs as she always had and then gradually she was persuaded to sing more modern ones to please the audiences – it was certainly the type of entertainment they expected from an orchestra that played late into the night.

  Grace was astonished at how highly she and the other musicians were now paid. It was more than treble anything she had received in the past.

  There was no doubt that she was a success and it was only a question of time before she was being sought after by other theatres.

  She never did anything without consulting Monsieur Alpen and, because he was so respected in Paris, he was able to sponsor her.

  Of course as she became better known and more in demand there were men!

  They asked her out to supper and some made other suggestions, but there could never be any other man in her life but Alastair.

  Except on very unusual occasions she left the theatre immediately she had finished her performance and she always returned to her lodgings alone.

  All that concerned her was the need to pay Kayla’s school fees and for the extra lessons she was taking in foreign languages.

  As she did not want to interfere with her mother’s engagements, Kayla stayed on at the Convent during the holidays.

  She was now eighteen and Head Girl of the Convent and a month before she was due to return home, the Mother Superior declared that they could teach her no more.

  Grace had been asking Monsieur Alpen’s advice as to what she should do, but they had not yet come to a decision.

  Grace’s voice had never faltered. In fact it was even stronger than it had been when she was younger.

  And it certainly continued to thrill all those who listened to her.

  But during the last month she had not felt at all well and, as she did not want to go to a doctor, she forced herself to rest until it was time to go to the theatre each day.

  She tried every pill and potion the other performers recommended to give her strength and energy.

  Then one night, having left the stage after endless curtain calls and carrying bouquets in her arms, she collapsed.

  One of the actors took her home in a carriage and he insisted that she must send for a doctor the next day.

  When the doctor came, Grace learnt that there was very little he could do for her.

  He was an experienced man with a good reputation and she knew that there was no use thinking he had made a mistake.

  He told her that she had cancer of the liver and had a very short time to live.

  He was very kind and most sympathetic and he felt, however, it was only right that she should know the truth.

  “That is what I want,” said Grace. “But, if I have to die, then I must make arrangements for my daughter before I do so.”

  “Then do it at once, madame,” the doctor told her. “I can see that you are sensible and realise it is better to face the truth rather than pretend it is not there.”

  “I am very grateful to you for being honest with me, doctor.” When the doctor left, she forced herself to sit up and write a letter and the woman who came in once a day to clean the rooms took it to the Post Office.

  It was to the Mother Superior of the Convent of Santa Maria Magdalena.

  Kayla was just leaving the classroom where she had been talking to her Greek teacher, as one of the nuns came hurrying into the room.

  “The Mother Superior wishes to see you in her office at once, Lady Kayla,” she said. “I have had such difficulty in finding you, the other girls are all having their tea.”

  “I was just going to join them,” replied Kayla, “but I stayed talking.”

  She smiled at the Greek teacher as she spoke.

  He thought that she was one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. With her dark brown hair and her very English pink and white complexion, she looked totally different from the French, Italian or Spanish pupils in the same class.

  He thought rather poetically as she hurried from the room that she was like a young Goddess. She might have just stepped down from Olympus to bemuse mankind.

  Kayla hurried along the passages of the Convent to the Mother Superior’s office. Outside the door she drew in her breath and tidied her hair before she knocked.

  When she heard the Mother Superior’s deep voice telling her to enter, she did so.

  The office, which was large and comfortable, was decorated with Holy pictures and an elaborate Crucifix hung over a prie-dieu.

  The Mother Superior considered it her duty to have long talks with all her pupils, as apart from anything else, it gave her an insight into their characters and personalities.

  Kayla entered the room and curtsied.

  Then she walked towards the Mother Superior, who was sitting in a high-backed armchair by one of the windows.

  “You sent for me, ma’am?” “You have been a long time in coming,” the Mo
ther Superior quizzed her. “What were you doing?”

  “I was talking to my teacher about Greece,” Kayla replied.

  A faint smile touched the Mother Superior’s lips.

  “I already know that Greek is your favourite subject, Kayla.”

  “It is, ma’am, and I am always hoping that I shall be able to go there again.”

  The Mother Superior did not respond.

  Looking at her, Kayla had a sudden feeling that there was something wrong.

  “What is it, ma’am?” she asked breathlessly.

  “I have had a letter from your mother,” the Mother Superior replied. “She tells me that she is very ill and that you are to return to Paris immediately. I am afraid, my dear, it is bad news or your mother would not have wanted you back so quickly.”

  Kayla nodded.

  “I must go at once,” she murmured.

  “I have already made arrangements for you to catch the evening train. And Sister Agnes will go with you and a Courier will make arrangements for your seat in the train and will see to your luggage.”

  “Thank you very much, ma’am.” She knew from the way the Mother Superior spoke that her mother would not have sent for her if it had not been a matter of great urgency.

  It could even be a matter of life or death.

  Kayla had frequently thought that she had inherited her mother’s intuition which in Scotland was always called being ‘fey’.

  She often knew that something was about to happen before it did or she was aware of what was expected of her before she was given an order.

  Now, although she fought against it, her intuition told her that her mother must be on the verge of death or it would not have been so urgent for her to go at once to Paris.

  When Kayla reached Paris, she found that she was right.

  Her mother was lying in her bed, looking, despite her illness, ethereally beautiful.

  At the same time she was pale and listless and it was obviously with an effort that she told Kayla the state she was in and how it was impossible for her to live for long.

  “You are not to mourn for me, darling,” she insisted. “I shall be with your father and it is something I have longed for ever since he left me.”

  “I know that, Mama.” “What I have been able to do, and I thank God for it, is to earn enough money to take you to England and to pay for everything we owe here.”