The Bitter winds of Love Read online

  “It must have been out hunting that young Gerald met Lady Taverel for his parents did not bother to see much of their more dashing and sophisticated neighbours. Margaret Taverel was lovely.

  “She was younger than her husband by a great many years, but must, I would suppose, have been about thirty-five.

  “She had golden hair and deep-blue eyes, which had turned the heads of many young men at one time or another and at first people were inclined to laugh when Gerald Carlton showed his devotion very obviously and followed her around wherever she went.

  “Sir John was a busy man and a somewhat difficult one to understand or to get to know. I cannot say that he minded his wife having admirers. He took little notice of them and, if he remonstrated with her in private, he made no public demonstration.

  “Gerald, being young, was perhaps more ostentatious in his devotion than the other more experienced men had been. Anyway in an extremely short while, the whole neighbourhood was gossiping, although few people, I think, thought that it was a serious matter.

  “I had known Margaret for many years. I liked her, although, quite frankly, I thought her one of the stupidest women who I have ever met. But then I could not deny her beauty and graciousness, which made her attractive and charming to everyone whom she met.

  “She came to see me one day and, while we were still talking, Gerald was announced.

  “She obviously expected him, whilst his visit was a complete surprise to me and just for a moment their delight at meeting each other and the irrepressible joy on both their faces, gave me a moment’s anxiety.

  “I thought my fears were ridiculous. Gerald was a mere child and Margaret a woman approaching middle age. I watched them driving away together and, returning to the house, dismissed the whole episode from my mind.

  “Two days later I heard the news that they had run away together.

  “To say I was astonished was to put it mildly. It was the last thing I, at any rate, had ever dreamt of, although I had known Gerald since he was a child and Margaret Taverel for nearly as many years.

  “General and Mrs. Carlton were heartbroken but they, like everybody else, waited to see what action Sir John would take in the matter.

  “What shocked people most was the fact that there was a child nearly seven years old, a girl, and I had always believed that Margaret was devoted to little Ann.

  “In telling you this story, Lydia, I cannot help but making it sound as though I blamed Margaret for what occurred. In some ways it is impossible not to, she was an older woman, while Gerald had hardly qualified to be called a man. It is only fair to say that now I can see her point of view.

  “She was still lovely, still longing for love and romance as ardently as she had fifteen years earlier when she had married Sir John. I am prepared to believe that their marriage was a failure before she met Gerald.

  “He was a difficult man to live with. He had distinct intellectual qualities. Margaret was a fool, but a very lovely one, that was all she had to offer any man, a beautiful face and an exquisite body.

  “She asked very little from life really, just flattery and admiration and a man to make a fuss of her and none of these things could she obtain from her husband.

  “Margaret was so afraid of growing old in the pomposity and grandeur of Taverel Castle. Gerald’s youth and good looks swept her off her feet and she ran away with him without thinking and without reasoning or considering what might come of her action.”

  Evelyn paused and, opening her handbag, took out a cigarette.

  “What did happen?” Lydia sked.

  “Nothing, just nothing,” Evelyn replied, “that was the tragedy.”

  “But did Sir John not divorce her?”

  “No, he refused even though in the end General Carlton himself went to see him and begged him to do so.”

  “How awful,” Lydia said. “What did they do?”

  “They lived abroad,” Evelyn answered, “and at first I think there were very happy. Then after two years the tragedy happened. They were in Cairo and Margaret was out riding when her horse slipped and rolled on her.”

  “Was she killed?” Lydia asked.

  “It would, perhaps, have been far better if she had been. No, she was not killed, but her spine was badly injured and Gerald was told that Margaret could never be able to walk again.

  “It must have been an awful moment for him, not only for himself but faced with the task of telling a woman who cared not only for her looks and her loveliness that for the rest of her life she would be an invalid.

  “They bought a house outside Cairo and there they have lived ever since. Three years ago Sir John died in fact immediately afterwards they were married.”

  Evelyn paused and looked out of the car window at The Manor.

  “By that time,” she said, “both Gerald’s parents were dead also and I always feel myself that they would have been much happier if they could have known that their son was legally married. They knew too that, as long as the union was unblessed, Gerald would never return home.”

  “Has he come back since?” Lydia asked.

  “No,” Evelyn answered. “I think perhaps it would make him too sad and upset to see this house, unless, of course, he has altered very much in the passing years and no longer cares.”

  “But how does all this affect me?” Lydia questioned, unable to restrain her curiosity any longer.

  “You will remember,” Evelyn said slowly, “that I spoke about the child that Margaret left behind, Ann Taverel. She was seven then – now she is just eighteen. She was, of course, brought up by her father, who left in his will, Trustees and Guardians for her until she should reach the age of eighteen.

  “After that he had no power to prevent her going to her mother should she wish to do so.

  “At the end of this month Ann sails for Cairo to meet the mother that she has not seen for eleven years. She has made up her mind that she will, for the present, make her home with Margaret.

  “Last week, just two days before I heard from you, I had a letter from Margaret asking me to find somebody to look after Ann, not only to take her out there but also to remain as chaperone and companion to the girl.

  “I was wondering who would be suitable for the post when your letter arrived and I knew that there was a direct answer to my problem. That is why I have brought you here today and told you this story. I wanted you to know the whole truth before you met Ann.”

  “But Evelyn,” Lydia exclaimed, “just how can I look after a young girl? Am I capable or suitable?”

  Evelyn smiled affectionately and put her hand on Lydia’s arm.

  “I consider you both,” she said, “and while I hope you will be a good influence on Ann, I think that she, as well as Cairo’s Society, would be a good education for you.”

  Lydia laughed. It was so like Evelyn.

  “A mutual Benefit Society,” she commented and then added seriously “it sounds rather frightening.”

  “Nobody could be scared of Margaret Carlton,” Evelyn said firmly. “Of Gerald I cannot tell you anything at all. When I last saw him, he was a very charming cheerful boy of twenty-two. He is now a man of nearly thirty-four.”

  “Tell me about Ann,” Lydia asked.

  “She is a darling,” Evelyn answered enthusiastically. “Very pretty, very impulsive and used to getting her own way.”

  “Oh, dear,” Lydia sighed.

  “But you shall judge for yourself,” Evelyn said, throwing away her cigarette and starting up the engine of the car. “Ann is coming to tea today and you can make all your plans with her then.”

  “But suppose she does not like me,” Lydia ventured nervously.

  “She will,” Evelyn answered her confidently.

  Turning the car, they drove off down the drive leaving The Manor alone to its shuttered silence.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ann was lovely, there was no doubt about it.

  She pirouetted slowly before Lydia and Evelyn, showing off
a new green tulle evening dress that billowed out from her slim waist and yet revealed, rather than concealed, the lissom slender lines of her young figure.

  She was dining out with a young man at Ciros, leaving Lydia and Evelyn alone at the hotel where they were all staying.

  After three days that had been one long hectic rush, Lydia was looking forward to a quiet evening when she could to go bed early and rest even if she did not sleep.

  She had found it difficult to sleep the last few nights for she had been so excited by the events that had followed rapidly one upon the other that at times she felt that this could not be happening to her quiet prosaic self but to some stranger.

  From the moment that Evelyn had introduced her to Ann at ‘Four Arrows’ she had not had a moment to herself. Ann had arrived at the house with the news that she intended to sail for Cairo in a week’s time with or without a chaperone.

  Fortunately she took an immediate liking to Lydia and there was no need for Evelyn to oppose this decision as she would undoubtedly have done had there been any real possibility of Ann sailing alone.

  Although she was only eighteen, fair fluffy hair and immense pale-blue eyes made Ann Taverel look distinctly younger and only the sophistication of her crimson lipstick and scarlet fingernails made a casual onlooker take her for more than a schoolgirl.

  One did not need to be many moments in Ann’s company without realising that she was attractive with charming manners and the gift of making most people whom she met like her very much and that, apart from a natural impulsiveness, she was not gifted with brains.

  Like her mother, Ann’s head was ruled entirely by her heart and after a short time Lydia found herself wondering what would exactly happen when the girl’s emotions were genuinely aroused.

  At the moment she was excited, flattered and not a little amused by the attention she was receiving from the score or more of young men who fluttered around her in the proverbial fashion of moths round a candle.

  “She is only a child yet,” Evelyn said more than once to Lydia.

  But her tone was rather anxious and Lydia knew that she was worried about the future of fascinating little Ann.

  All day long the telephone would be ringing, servants would be kept busy bringing notes and flowers, or announcing young men, who arrived prepared to wait patiently for hours, if need be, until Ann could spare them her attention.

  When Ann had made it quite clear that she intended to go to Cairo on Tuesday week and that she had already cabled her mother to that effect, Evelyn accepted the inevitable with a smile and offered to do all she could to facilitate their departure.

  “You are a darling,” Ann said to her, putting her arms round her neck and giving her a hug. “I don’t know what I should do without you, Aunt Evelyn, but then, does not everyone within a radius of fifty miles say that to you at least seven times a week?”

  “It is easy to flatter me now you have got your own way,” Evelyn replied, smiling at the girl affectionately so that her words held no sting in them.

  “Is that all right for you, Lydia?” asked Ann. “Can you be ready on Tuesday?”

  “Oh, quite easily,” Lydia replied. “I have nothing particular of my own to see to now.”

  “Nothing to see to,” echoed Evelyn Marshall, with a little cry. “My dear Lydia, you don’t think you can go to Cairo without any clothes?”

  “Why, no, perhaps I cannot. I did not think of it,” Lydia confessed rather shamefacedly.

  She had grown so used to wearing anything that came to hand and was comfortable, that she had forgotten how necessary and what an important part clothes will play in the life of the average woman.

  “We go to London tomorrow,” Evelyn stipulated firmly.

  As Lydia agreed, Evelyn took pencil and paper and started to make a list of the things that she would require. After half an hour Lydia expostulated,

  “But it is ridiculous, Evelyn, I cannot take the job if I require so much. We do not have the time to get them and what is more I certainly do not have the money to pay for them.”

  “That is my affair,” Evelyn said with a smile. They are going to be my present to you, a fine trousseau to start your new life with.”

  “I would not hear of it,” Lydia answered. “It is very very sweet of you, but, of course, I cannot take such a present.”

  “And since when have you become so proud?” Evelyn questioned. “My dear, for nearly seven years I have been denied your company and the pleasure of giving you presents and parties. What I should have spent on you in actual money, if you like to put it that way, has accumulated and now it is going to be spent all at once.

  “You are going to Cairo because it is a marvellous opportunity that may never present itself again and, if you think that I can send out to Margaret and Gerald a chaperone for Ann looking like a scarecrow, you are wrong. I have my own reputation to think of, you must remember, and you go as my friend.”

  She said these last words humorously, but Lydia could not laugh with her. She felt tears sting her eyes and there was a lump in her throat at this unexpected kindness and generosity.

  She tried to stammer her thanks, but then Evelyn hushed the words away and continued adding to the list of necessary purchases, which grew longer every minute.

  After forty-eight hours in London, Lydia came to the conclusion that, while she would have plenty of clothes to take to Cairo, she personally would arrive a wreck.

  The hours of standing to be fitted, the struggling in the crowded shops before one could get attention and the noise and bustle in the streets exhausted her, even while the novelty of it all kept her excited and nervously alert.

  Under the capable hands of a London hairdresser, her hair was trimmed and re-dressed in a new and fashionable way, although it retained the country simplicity that suited her so well.

  “Aunt Evelyn, she will be the belle of Cairo!” Ann exclaimed when she returned to the hotel.

  “And that will be very good for your conceit,” Evelyn answered.

  There could hardly have been a more satisfactory contrast than that between Lydia and Ann. Ann’s loveliness was that of a rosebud. She was fresh and exquisite in a dress of filmy tulle or crisp coloured muslin surmounted by a large-brimmed hat trimmed with flowers and ribbons.

  Sheath-like dresses of heavy crêpe and velvet that clung to Lydia’s more sophisticated figure gave her both poise and an elusive form of glamour that was difficult to describe but very perceptible.

  Every day the happiness and adventure of the new life was bringing a fresh beauty to her expression and, while her general appearance might make her in some ways seem older than her years, there was a young and eager light to be found in her eyes.

  “I cannot believe that all this is true,” she enthused to Evelyn a hundred times a day.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It was not until Ann and Lydia started on their journey that Lydia realised how much was to be required of her in this new job.

  The final hustle of getting off from the hotel to the train, the seeing to their luggage, the tipping of porters and the arranging of carriages, were all left in Lydia’s safe hands.

  From the moment that she walked into Ann’s bedroom and found her only half-dressed when they should have been starting for the Station, she was aware that she had to deal with someone without any sense of organisation and completely incapable of looking after herself or her belongings.

  Ann did not fuss about anything.

  She just looked beautiful and managed not only to be invariably late, so that Lydia was in a constant state of anxiety lest they should be left behind, but also to mislay her tickets, her notecase and finally her handbag.

  Had it not been for Evelyn, who remained capable and practical in any circumstances, however trying, they would not have departed for Cairo that day.

  But somehow, panting and exhausted, Lydia managed to get herself and her charge into the train and, as the carriage door closed behind them, the train started. r />
  “I am sure that we must have forgotten something,” Ann said, pulling her soft felt hat from her curly fair hair and taking out a mirror to look at herself.

  ‘It will certainly be your fault if we have,’ Lydia longed to reply.

  But there was something very ingenuous about Ann that the sharp words she could have spoken died on her lips and instead she laughed.

  “I hope you realise,” she said, “that your dressing case is not packed, the things are just thrown into it and I expect every bottle is broken.”

  Ann shrugged her shoulders.

  “I did not get into my bed until three o’clock last night,” she said. “I am dead tired this morning, I just could not get up.”

  “I really ought to be angry with you,” Lydia said. “If we had missed this train, we should have wasted our sleepers to Marseilles and might even have missed the Liner to Cairo.”

  “Well, we have not missed it anyway,” Ann said, “so don’t bother to lecture me as I shall not listen.”

  She smiled as she spoke and Lydia knew that her task of chaperone and companion was going to be no easy one.

  They had not progressed far on the journey before Lydia found Ann had definite ideas about whiling away the boredom of the railway journey. She scrutinised the travellers all the way to Dover and, when they arrived on the ship, she announced,

  “I am going to have a look round to see who is aboard.”

  She left Lydia in the cabin, who was thankful to lie down and close her eyes, not because she was feeling seasick, it was a calm day, but because she was sleepy.

  She had not slept the night before and had been up since seven o’clock packing her own clothes and trying to ensure, without avail, against a last-minute rush.

  Ann was away a long time and Lydia awoke with a guilty start just before they docked at Calais to find that she was still alone in the cabin.

  She put on her hat and, glancing at herself in the little mirror hanging on the wall, was aware that the rest and sleep had taken away the lines of tiredness under her eyes and made her look fresh and young.