A Victory for Love Read online

  Without intending to she had brought the conversation round to herself and she said quickly,

  “It is such a lovely afternoon, Papa, why do we not go out into the garden? One of your azaleas that came from overseas is just coming into bloom.”

  Because her father was keenly interested in his garden, she knew that this would attract him and he rose to his feet saying,

  “You are right. I could do with a little fresh air.”

  There was a moment’s pause and Farica knew that the Earl was considering whether he should insist on joining them or should take his leave, which was obviously expected of him.

  He decided to leave, but before he did so he said,

  “By the way, Sir Robert, I came to ask if you and your daughter would dine with me tonight. I have an amusing party of friends down from London and I am sure you would enjoy yourselves.”

  “I am sure we would,” Sir Robert agreed. “Thank you. Farica and I will be delighted to come to The Castle. Dinner will be at seven-thirty, I suppose?”

  “No, I prefer London time,” the Earl replied. “We dine at eight o’clock.”

  He put out his hand towards Farica saying,

  “Goodbye until then, Miss Chalfont. Is there any need for me to tell you how eagerly I shall be looking forward to seeing you again?”

  It was not only the way he spoke but his eyes, looking at her in a manner she resented, and the touch of his hand that also made Farica know that her instinct was right and he was repulsive.

  Just as her vibrations had responded to the vibrations of John Hamilton, so she felt herself shrink away and turn back into herself when she was touched by the Earl.

  Then to her relief he was walking towards the door and her father accompanied him to the hall to see him off in his phaeton.

  Farica, however, did not move from the fireplace in the drawing room.

  She looked around the room that been furnished in exquisite taste by her mother and recognised, although she could not explain it, that the Earl had left behind him an atmosphere of discord and unpleasantness which for the moment she could not avoid.

  As her father came back into the room, she said to him quickly,

  “Come into the garden. I want to talk to you, Papa.”

  “Of course, my dearest,” her father replied. “At the same time I hope it is not something that will upset and distress me.”

  Farica did not answer. She only walked with her father beside her down the corridor that led to a door opening onto the garden at the back of the house.

  Here were beautifully planned rose beds and beyond the yew hedge there was a Herb Garden that had been laid out in Elizabethan times when the house itself had been built.

  The setting was lovely and Sir Robert had embellished the scene with exotic plants which had come from other parts of the world, besides planting not only roses but lilies and delphiniums, carnations and fuchsias, which made great clumps of colour that were exceedingly effective against the mellow rose-red bricks of the house itself.

  Farica showed her father the azalea that he was particularly interested in as it had been brought to him by a friend from India.

  Then he said,

  “I was worried when you disappeared after luncheon, my dearest. I had no wish to upset you.”

  “I was upset, Papa,” Farica replied, “and while I know that you do not wish me to speak of it, I have not changed my mind. In fact, now that I have seen him again, I am determined not to marry the Earl.”

  She spoke decisively, feeling as she did so as if John was encouraging her to be firm and determined.

  Her father was silent for a moment.

  And then he said,

  “How can you be so foolish? And if you do refuse Lydbrooke, where are you likely to find a husband who can give you so much?”

  “If you are talking about a title,” Farica said in a low voice, “I want more from the man I marry than a coronet!”

  “I know what you are going to say,” her father interrupted. “You want to be in love. Of course every woman wants that, but love, my dearest child, usually comes after marriage.”

  “And if it does not? What can one do then?” Farica asked him.

  Her father walked a few paces away from her and then back again as if he found it difficult to be still.

  Then he said,

  “I love you, my darling, you know that, but I am not going to pretend that ever since I bought this house and estate it has never crossed my mind that perhaps, if the Gods smiled on me, you would marry the owner of Lyde Castle.”

  There was silence again and Farica saw the pain in his eyes as he went on,

  “Of course at that time I visualised that Rupert would be here in my place when I died. But now the house will be yours and what could be better than to use it either as a Dower House, if your husband dies before you, or as a home for your second son, seeing that your first will inherit The Castle?”

  Farica gave a little cry.

  “Stop, Papa, stop! You are planning too far ahead and I feel as if I am in a trap and it is impossible to escape from it.”

  “I have no wish to upset you,” her father said again. “Equally Lydebrooke would give you the position I have always wanted you to have, one that you are entitled to as your mother’s daughter.”

  Farica knew, because her mother came from an old Devonshire family, their antecedents going back into history before the Norman Conquest, that her father had always felt almost apologetic because his blood was not as good as hers.

  And, as she had said to John, he was only a second Baronet. But why should she be concerned, she asked herself, with her father’s ambitions?

  Of course she could understand, of course she realised he wanted what he thought was best for her.

  But it could never be best if it meant that she had to marry the Earl of Lydbrooke.

  ‘Why do I dislike him so much?’ she questioned herself and did not know the answer.

  Because she felt that it would be a mistake to quarrel with her father and to antagonise him to the point where he might be more determined than ever that she should be the Countess of Lydbrooke, she slipped her arm through his and said,

  “Let’s talk about ourselves, Papa, or far more importantly, about the horses. I hear that there was a foal born this morning. Have you seen him yet?”

  “No,” Sir Robert answered. “Why did nobody tell me?”

  “I expect they thought that I would want to tell you as a surprise,” Farica answered. “Let’s go and see him. I did not even peep at him until we could see him together.”

  Sir Robert was smiling as they left the garden to walk towards the stables.

  *

  As she dressed for dinner, Farica was worried.

  She had no wish to go to The Castle that evening and she had the feeling that it was part of the plot that her father and the Earl were hatching together so that she would be forced into agreeing to what they were suggesting.

  Her maid, who had been with her ever since she had been a child, helped her into a very attractive gown of white gauze decorated round the hem, the sleeves and the décolletage with a pattern representing snowdrops.

  The embroidery was so exquisite that they looked like real flowers and when she was dressed her father exclaimed as she came down the stairs,

  “You are Persephone or the Spirit of Spring, my darling, and that is exactly how I like you to look.”

  “Thank you, Papa,” Farica smiled.

  She accepted her wrap, trimmed with swansdown, from one of the footmen and she thought, as they walked down the steps to where their closed carriage was waiting, that her father looked very distinguished in his evening clothes.

  ‘And very very much nicer than the Earl of Lydbrooke,’ she added to herself.

  As they set off, knowing that it would not take them more than a quarter of an hour to reach The Castle, she said,

  “By the way, Papa, have you by any chance a vacancy on the estate for a y
oung man, a gentleman, who has returned from the War, but who would not, I think, be particular about what he does?”

  “A soldier?” Sir Robert asked.

  “In the Life Guards. He was wounded at Waterloo.”

  “How do you know of him?”

  It was a question that Farica had anticipated and she replied,

  “He is staying at the moment with Abe Barnes. I am sure that he will be quite comfortable at The Fox and Goose, but he has to earn a living.”

  “That applies to a great many men, my darling.”

  “I know, Papa, but we can only help them one at a time and as they come to us for assistance.”

  “Do you mean to say this man dared to ask you to assist him?” Sir Robert enquired.

  “No, of course not,” Farica replied. “But I do, in the circumstances, feel sorry for him. He has a bad wound on his forehead, although I am sure Abe will attend to that.”

  “Well, there is very little I can do,” Sir Robert replied. “As you well know, we are overmanned already and actually I heard this morning that the Earl has dismissed three labourers from one of his own farms and turned the Prospers out of theirs.”

  Farica looked at her father in astonishment.

  “The Prospers? But they have been at Biggin Farm for four generations!”

  “Yes, I know,” Sir Robert agreed, “but I understand that they could not pay their rent and Prosper has claimed that it is quite impossible to make ends meet.”

  “How can the Earl do anything so cruel and so utterly heartless?” Farica asked beneath her breath.

  “I am afraid the answer is quite simple,” Sir Robert replied. “He just cannot afford to live at The Castle in the way that his uncle was able to do before the War.”

  There was a little pause while Farica was adding in her mind the words,

  ‘Unless he obtains a rich wife!’

  As her father was obviously thinking the same thing, they drove on in silence until the horses turned in at the impressive gates, gold-tipped and wrought iron, with a lodge on either side of them and the heraldic Crest of the Brooke family carved in stone.

  It led down a long avenue of oak trees where The Castle, now in the last glow of the sun with the first evening star beginning to shine overhead, looked lovelier and even more Fairytale-like than it had from the woods.

  The thought, which she could not repress, flashed through Farica’s mind that it could be hers. This was The Castle that had been in her dreams ever since she could remember and which she could never look at without feeling a little thrill because it was so ethereal and so beautiful.

  Then she knew that however much she loved The Castle she could never in a million years love the present owner of it.

  As they drew nearer, she found herself thinking of how all down the centuries it had been a focal point for the countryside.

  Originally a Medieval Castle had stood on the site, but that had been demolished at the time of King Henry VIII, as had a subsequent building at the Restoration of Charles II.

  It had been the present Earl’s grandfather who, to the design of Robert Adam, had erected the present magnificent building. It had exceeded anything that had ever been built in this part of the country before and had caused even the King to be jealous of its magnificence.

  ‘It used to be such a happy place,’ Farica told herself as the horses drove over the ancient bridge that spanned the lake, ‘but now – ’

  She did not finish the sentence in her mind, she only felt a little shiver go through her as she knew that the Earl was waiting to greet them.

  When they were shown into the majestic, high-ceilinged Reception room with its three chandeliers each lit with a hundred candles, Farica felt once again that she had stepped into one of her dreams.

  But it was certainly not ‘Prince Charming’ who came towards her eagerly with outstretched hands.

  When she rose from her curtsey, she looked inadvertently up into his face and thought that the expression in his eyes was impertinent and seemed in a way that she could not quite understand a violation of herself.

  Taking her by the arm, the Earl drew her to the group of guests who were standing at the far end of the room.

  They had all, Farica discovered, come from London and she realised that she might have guessed it by their elegant appearance.

  At the same time there was a decided immodesty about the ladies’ décolletage and transparent skirts, while the gentlemen’s cravats seemed excessively high and their fashionable coats fitted too tightly for comfort.

  Then she saw that she was the only woman in the room who was not wearing glittering jewels, the majority of the Earl’s guests having a bandeau or a tiara on their heads.

  They paid little attention to her, except, she thought, to look disparagingly at the very small string of perfect pearls that she wore around her throat.

  She knew that her mother would have thought them overdressed and over-bejewelled for a small party in the country.

  When they went into the dining room, Farica was even more surprised.

  As if determined to make his feelings very obvious where she was concerned, the Earl had placed her on his right, although she was sure that there were far more important women present and anyway the majority of them appeared to be married.

  On his other side the Earl had a flashing-eyed dark-haired beauty who was wearing a profusion of rubies and a gown that was cut so low in the bodice and was so transparent over her body that she might, Farica reflected, just as well have been naked.

  Then she told herself that it was only because she was so unsophisticated and had not yet had a Season in London that she was so surprised.

  The whole party became noisier and more uproarious almost as soon as they sat down to dinner.

  They had all been drinking champagne before Farica and her father arrived and it seemed to her that several of the men had already had too much, while the women’s voices appeared to rise higher and higher every time they laughed.

  The Earl, however, paid no attention to anyone but Farica.

  “I have to see you alone,” he said, as the first course was removed by what appeared to be an army of liveried servants.

  “I am sure that would be – incorrect,” Farica replied.

  “Nonsense,” he insisted. “It is impossible for you and me to talk with your father always present. I will take you for a drive and we can stop somewhere, perhaps in the woods, and leave the horses with a groom. I assure you I shall be very eloquent on the subject of how much you attract me.”

  Farica felt herself stiffening before she responded,

  “I think what you are suggesting, my Lord, would not meet with my father’s approval and you must be aware that it would be extremely unconventional for me to behave in such a manner.”

  “Come now,” the Earl went on. “You and I need not stand on ceremony with each other. I want to marry you and your father has agreed, but we have to get to know each other.”

  “I think what you are saying, my Lord,” Farica said, feeling embarrassed that this sort of conversation should be taking place at the dinner table, “is that my father has agreed to give his consent as long as I agree that I – wish to be your – wife.”

  For a moment the Earl looked disconcerted.

  Then he said,

  “Perhaps he said something like that. It’s all a matter of words. When we are alone together, I will prove to you that they are quite unnecessary.”

  She knew what he meant by the expression in his eyes and looked away quickly.

  She felt that if he touched her or tried to kiss her as he obviously intended, she would scream for help.

  “The trouble with you,” the Earl continued, as if he was following his train of thought, “is that you have been too long in the country and have no idea what fun you could have in London. That is where we will live when we are married and we will give parties at Brooke House in Berkeley Square that will go on long after dawn has broken.”
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  He gave a little laugh as he added,

  “In fact I can hardly remember a night when I have been to bed without the sun shining through the window at me!”

  He laughed again and Farica looked round the table at the guests who seemed to be growing noisier with every minute.

  She could imagine nothing more intolerable than parties where apparently the only thing the guests wished to do was to eat and drink excessively and laugh uproariously.

  She remembered when her mother was alive the delightful dinner parties they gave at The Priory.

  She had been able to tiptoe into the Minstrel Gallery before she went to bed and look down into the Baronial Dining Room where once the monks had eaten at a long refectory table.

  Then she would see how lovely her mother looked at one end of the table and her father would be very impressive sitting in a high-backed chair at the other.

  The table had been decorated with gold candelabra and gold ornaments with real flowers round them and the guests had seemed to be part of the elegance of the whole scene.

  They had talked animatedly but quietly to each other and Farica knew that they would be discussing serious topics such as politics, national and local problems or perhaps sport.

  When they laughed, it had been a happy spontaneous sound, not noisy and raucous, like the laughter that was echoing in her ears at the moment.

  ‘Those are the sort of parties I want to give,’ she told herself and noted with shocked surprise that one of the gentlemen at the table was putting his arms around a lady’s shoulders.

  Then opposite her a lady touched her lips with her forefinger before she pressed it against her partner’s mouth.

  “That will have to satisfy you for the moment!” she giggled provocatively.

  As he caught her hand and kissed it, she merely laughed and made no effort to pull it away.

  While Farica was shocked at such behaviour and disliked the way that the Earl paid her compliments, which all seemed to take it more or less for granted that she would become his wife, the dinner seemed to go on interminably.