Learning to Love Read online

  The Colonel laughed and the Earl managed to laugh too.

  “That describes it exactly, sir.”

  “Well we are very lucky to have found the old woman,” the Colonel continued. “She is certainly a unique institution in London and they tell me there is no one like her in any other capital city in Europe.”

  He drank a sip of coffee before he added,

  “You know I mean that it is all for free and what young Subaltern, who is invariably penniless, could ask for more?”

  “I do agree with you,” the Earl replied.

  He wondered vaguely if Rosie was thinking of him this morning or perhaps after she had crept away when he was asleep, she had never given him another thought.

  She was certainly very pretty and he had been lucky that she had taken his mind off himself at least for the hours they had been together.

  “I suppose you are travelling back to the country today,” the Colonel was saying.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  The Earl wondered as he spoke if his bride would think it a poor sort of honeymoon.

  She would certainly find no comforts at Cariston Hall and it was doubtful whether there would be much to eat for dinner.

  He supposed he ought to do something about it, but somehow he felt limp and it was too much of an effort to try to think ahead.

  All he kept remembering was that he was due at St. George’s in Hanover Square by eleven o’clock.

  There he would be married.

  At the same time he would receive an enormous cheque which would change his life completely from the moment it was in his possession.

  He looked around the table at the Colonel and the other senior Officers and conjectured at what they would say if he told them what he was about to undertake.

  He supposed most of them would think he was very lucky and the others would undoubtedly despise him for selling himself, or rather his title, for that was what it really amounted to.

  Now he thought it over, he felt certain that, if he were just Mr. Nobody, the wealthy Mr. Randon would have behaved differently.

  He might have given him a small amount for the sake of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and would then have looked elsewhere for a son-in-law higher up the social tree.

  Of course that was the answer and he was very stupid not to have realised it earlier.

  As the Earl of Cariston, he had something concrete to offer and Mr. Randon had been well aware of it.

  He wanted an aristocratic husband for his daughter and who better at a moment’s notice than himself?

  An Earl with a long family history behind him, he was also the son of a man who had been Mr. Randon’s friend in the past.

  ‘This is what has happened,’ the Earl told himself, ‘and I need not feel as humble as all that!’

  He mused that what it actually meant was that he need not be subservient or under any obligation to his wife simply because she could pay for anything he required.

  By the time breakfast was over the Earl felt he could still carry his head high.

  Even though he was selling himself at the altar.

  Charles appeared promptly at ten o’clock to say he had been making last minute preparations to leave for India as the P&O liner on which he was sailing would leave Tilbury just before midnight.

  “Will you be back for luncheon?” the Colonel enquired of him.

  “Yes, sir,” Charles answered. “I have an engagement this morning and after that I shall be free.”

  “I would like to have a last few words with you,” the Colonel said, “so do not forget. I expect however, you will have a large number of people to say goodbye to.”

  He walked away without waiting for an answer.

  Charles turned to the Earl,

  “Not as many as all that. My family, as you know, live in Derbyshire and I have already said goodbye to them. But there was a very pretty girl I met last night and I have every intention of saying farewell to her when you have finished with me.”

  “I do not think I shall be keeping you very long,” the Earl replied dejectedly.

  Jim, who looked as if he had enjoyed himself, brought the chaise round to the Officers’ quarters.

  The two men climbed into the front with Jim behind.

  There seemed nothing particular to say, so they did not talk as the Earl drove down Birdcage Walk and into Green Park.

  The sun was shining and it was obviously going to be a warm and pleasant day.

  Charles was looking around him as if he was taking a last glimpse of London before he travelled to India.

  The Earl could remember doing the same when he had first gone abroad.

  When he was in the Sudan he had felt extremely homesick at times and often thought that people at home forgot how monotonous service life could be in a foreign country.

  A soldier usually could not even speak the language and, when he was not actually campaigning, there was very little to do.

  He had been fortunate in that he always enjoyed reading and had managed by hook or by crook to find books wherever he was posted.

  The majority of his brother Officers in their time off just smoked and drank and longed for a pretty girl to talk to.

  There was no Club for them like White’s or Boodles, where they would always find other friends with whom they had been at school or university.

  “How long do you expect to be in India?” the Earl asked as he drove across Grosvenor Square.

  “I suppose three years at least,” Charles replied. “It will be exciting to see it all, but I shall miss the family and of course being with the Regiment.”

  He laughed and added,

  “In fact I feel as if I was going to a new school and was the youngest and stupidest boy in the class!”

  “I know exactly what you are feeling, but cheer up, Charles, I hear that the Viceroy lives in great grandeur and the women in Simla are very attractive.”

  “That is what I have heard,” Charles answered, “but I will believe it when I see it.”

  They reached Hanover Square and the Earl could see St. George’s Church looming ahead of him.

  As he drew up his horse outside he confided,

  “I am very grateful to you for doing this for me Charles and please remember not a word to the Colonel or anyone else.”

  “You can trust me and the best of luck, old man.”

  Charles spoke with sincerity.

  The Earl could only hope that what he was wishing could come true.

  He handed the reins to Jim and walked up the steps and through the great portico into the Church. He had been here before, but he had forgotten how large and imposing it seemed, especially when it was empty.

  Then as he looked ahead at the altar he saw to his surprise that someone had already arrived.

  He was not late, in fact it was just ten minutes before eleven o’clock.

  As he walked up the aisle he saw an elderly man with white hair and beside him stood a young woman.

  If she was the Bride, she was smaller than he had expected. She was wearing a pale blue dress and on her head what seemed to be a bonnet trimmed with blue flowers.

  As he drew nearer the Earl saw that a veil covered her face, which prevented him from seeing her at all clearly.

  When he reached the altar, the man came forward to hold out his hand.

  “I think you must be Lord Cariston,” he said, “and the Vicar said that he would start the service the moment you arrived.”

  The Earl turned towards his future wife, but she was apparently unaware of him as her head was bent.

  He would have spoken to her, but at that moment the Vicar wearing his surplice appeared from the Vestry.

  He stood on the steps in front of the altar and the bride with the elderly man immediately walked towards him.

  There was nothing the Earl could do but follow them as he had been told to do and the Vicar started the Service.

  He intoned the words of the marriage service clearly and sincerely.
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  The Earl considered that under the circumstances he would have thought that the wedding was very well conducted and in fact quite moving.

  Yet because of the woman standing beside him, the Earl could feel resentment rising in his breast and it was with the greatest difficulty that he forced himself to attend to what the Vicar was saying.

  When it came to the point where the bride was given away, the elderly man did so.

  Next the ring had to be blessed and the Earl, with a start of horror, realised he had done nothing about providing one. It had simply not occurred to him.

  He wondered what he could do.

  But he noticed that the man escorting the bride was giving something to Charles.

  A moment later a ring was placed in his hand.

  He realised that it was exceedingly remiss of him not to have remembered it but he had to admit Mr. Randon had thought of every last detail.

  The Vicar blessed the ring and turned to the Earl,

  “Repeat after me – ‘with this ring I thee wed’.”

  Obediently the Earl repeated the words.

  As he placed the ring on the bride’s finger, he noticed that she was trembling and the responses she gave were in such a soft unsteady voice that he could hardly hear them.

  ‘So she is frightened,’ he thought.

  Yet just as he was horrified at what was happening to both of them, there was nothing he could do about it.

  They knelt for the Blessing.

  When they rose they followed the Vicar as would be usual into the Vestry to sign the Register.

  It was laid out for them on a table and the Earl signed first. Just as the bride took up the pen, the man who had come with her said,

  “I must have a few words with you, my Lord, and I have arranged with the Vicar that we can do so here.”

  He moved to the other end of the Vestry table and as the Earl followed him, he realised that the Vicar was taking the woman who was now his wife back into the Chancel.

  It was then that Charles spoke up,

  “I do not think you will need me any longer, Michael. If you will forgive me, I still have a great deal to do before I leave.”

  “Of course, Charles,” the Earl replied, “and the very best of luck to you. I am sure you will enjoy India enormously and so many thanks for your help today.”

  “I only wish you were coming with me,” Charles sighed.

  They shook hands and Charles departed.

  The Earl closed the door behind him and turned to face the elderly man.

  “I think I should introduce myself, My Lord,” he began. “I am Ernest Trenchard, Senior Partner of Trenchard, Moreton and Pollit, Solicitors to Mr. David Randon.”

  It was rather as the Earl had expected, so he did not say anything as he sat down in a chair at the end of the table.

  “First of all,” Mr. Trenchard announced, “I have instructions to give your Lordship this.”

  As he spoke he handed him a cheque for ninety-nine thousand pounds. The Earl looked at it in surprise and Mr. Trenchard resumed,

  “I also have here one thousand pounds in cash, which Mr. Randon thought you might need whilst you are travelling back to the country.”

  The Earl still did not say anything.

  However his lips tightened as he thought that while Mr. Randon was entirely right in his conjecture, it was slightly insulting that he should demonstrate in such a fashion his awareness that he was in fact penniless.

  “I think it would be wise for me to suggest,” Mr. Trenchard was saying, “that this cheque together with the other documents I would ask you to sign should be sent by courier this afternoon to your Solicitors wherever they may be.”

  “They are in Oxford,” the Earl informed him, “which is, as you may know, about ten miles from my house.”

  “I thought that was likely,” Mr. Trenchard commented.

  The Earl told him the name of his Solicitors and he appeared to have heard of them.

  Then he produced a paper on which Mr. Randon had given him Power of Attorney over all his wife’s possessions and anything she should inherit in the future.

  The Earl did not even look to see how much was involved, although he was quite certain that it was an enormous sum almost beyond his imagination.

  He just signed wherever Mr. Trenchard asked him and also gave a specimen of his signature to be kept by the Solicitors in London.

  “I am sending the documents by a courier who is waiting outside the Church,” Mr. Trenchard said briskly. “He should reach your Solicitors before they close this afternoon.”

  “Thank you, I am sure you have thought of everything and I am most grateful.”

  He did not sound particularly grateful and Mr. Trenchard added,

  “If you are in any difficulties, my Lord, just get in touch with me and I will do everything in my power to assist you.”

  “Thank you very much,” the Earl replied.

  “Of course,” Mr. Trenchard continued, hesitating slightly, “as we have been Solicitors to Mr. Randon for over twenty years, it might make matters easier if you saw your way, my Lord, to appointing us as your own Solicitors. But that of course is a decision only you can make.”

  The Earl stiffened.

  “I will think about it,” he said, “and thank you for arranging for these documents to be conveyed to my Solicitors in Oxford. But I would like the cheque paid directly into my bank in Oxford.”

  As he spoke he wrote down the name of his bank and its address. As he did so he thought that at least the money would be entirely under his control and out of the hands of Mr. Randon’s Solicitors.

  He could not quite understand why they should wish to control his affairs as they already controlled the affairs of the man who had just become his father-in-Law and of course his wife.

  Again he sensed that it was an attempt to take away his independence. And he was fighting for every inch of the way.

  As if Mr. Trenchard sensed that it was a mistake to say anymore, he merely bowed.

  “I will see to it that this cheque is delivered to your bank at the same time as the documents go to your Solicitors.”

  “Thank you again,” the Earl replied and walked towards the door.

  As he went back into the Church, he saw that his bride was kneeling in front of the altar and the Vicar was standing by her as if he was still blessing her.

  When he appeared Kristina rose to her feet.

  The Earl approached the Vicar and said,

  “I must thank you very much for taking the service.”

  “It was a pleasure, my Lord,” the Vicar answered. “And as I understand it you do not wish your marriage to be talked about at the moment, so I can assure you that nothing will be said by anyone here.”

  The Earl nodded.

  He wondered if he should offer his arm to his wife to walk down the aisle. However she had already started to walk ahead and he could only follow her with Mr. Trenchard at his side.

  Outside the Earl found a large chaise drawn by four horses and to his surprise there was no sign of Jim.

  Before he could ask any questions Mr. Trenchard told him,

  “On Mr. Randon’s instructions, your man was told to return to the country. This chaise and the four horses are a wedding present to you and he thought you would wish to drive them to Cariston Hall.”

  For a moment the Earl could not think what to say so Mr. Trenchard continued,

  “Luncheon has already been ordered for you at the Crown and Anchor on the Oxford Road, which you should reach in about two hours.”

  The Earl was speechless.

  Everything was being arranged for him so that he felt he was a puppet being manipulated by the hands of an expert showman.

  With a superhuman effort he held out his hand to Mr. Trenchard saying,

  “Thank you very much. I do appreciate all that has been done for me.”

  Whilst he was speaking, his wife had stepped into the chaise and when he walked round to the o
ther side to take the reins, he saw that the groom in charge was a middle-aged man, who looked as if he was well experienced with horses.

  The Earl took the reins from the groom who climbed into the back seat and they started off.

  The Earl did not wave to Mr. Trenchard, but he did however notice that his wife sitting beside him had raised her hand.

  The Earl could not help being annoyed at the way he had been treated like a child.

  His own horses and groom had been sent away without consulting him, yet he was forced to admit that the four horses he was driving were perfectly matched and an outstanding team. They were admired by almost everyone they passed in the streets.

  It was the sort of team he had dreamed of, but never thought he would possess.

  He was also very conscious that the comfortably padded and well-sprung chaise was something he could never have afforded.

  Because the Earl was an excellent driver he managed to weave the horses quickly through the traffic.

  They reached the outskirts of London in what he recognised was record time. The horses were obviously fresh and as the Earl gave them their heads he thought it would be impossible anywhere to find a finer team which now incredibly belonged to him.

  His wife sitting beside him had not spoken since they left the Church.

  He wondered what she was thinking about.

  It suddenly occurred to him that she would not expect, being so rich, to travel without a lady’s maid.

  He supposed that if Mr. Randon had arranged everything else, he would have sent a maid ahead to look after her when they arrived.

  Again he could not help feeling he should have been consulted – even so he had to be fair and admit it would have been impossible for Mr. Randon to have done so.

  The reason was quite simple – he would have had no idea where he was.

  ‘I must be grateful for everything I am receiving and try not to resent it,’ the Earl admonished himself but he knew he was going to find it difficult.

  He was vividly conscious of the woman sitting beside him.

  She had not said anything nor had she even looked at him, as far as he knew, from behind her veil.

  He thought it rather strange that she should have been married in blue and he noted that she had worn her veil right over her face as if she did not wish him to see her face.