Love Strikes a Devil Read online

  Her father smiled.

  “That is what I would like to do, but you are well aware that it is something we cannot do, considering that he is relying on me and, of course, you.”

  “I have no wish for him to rely on me,” Charisa retorted sharply.

  She helped herself from the silver entrée dishes that stood on the sideboard and then she seated herself at the table before she continued,

  “Now, listen, Papa. If he says one more word to you about marrying me, make it clear that it is something that should not be discussed for months – in fact for at least six.”

  Her father looked at her searchingly before he asked,

  “Are you telling me that you have taken a dislike to Gervais?”

  “Not exactly a dislike,” Charisa responded thoughtfully, “but he is very – strange and quite different from Vincent and, for that matter, from Uncle George.”

  She hesitated and then went on,

  “I think it is not unreasonable to ask him for time to see how he ‘shapes up’ as you might say.”

  The Colonel laughed.

  “I know exactly what you are thinking and, of course, you are right. There is no hurry and when it comes to marriage, as you well know, all I want is your happiness, your real happiness, with a man who is worthy of you.”

  Charisa smiled at her father.

  “Thank you, Papa. You always understand and I know, although he is a Mawde, that Mama would want me to wait and see before I make a decision one way or the other.”

  “Of course,” the Colonel agreed. “Leave it to me, my dearest. I can only think, as I said before, that he is doing things in a French way instead of taking his time in the English manner, which is much more sensible.”

  “‘Taking his time’ is exactly the right expression,” Charisa agreed.

  *

  Charisa rode with her father in the morning as he was visiting one of his farms.

  When they returned for luncheon there was a large bouquet of orchids on one of the tables in the hall.

  Charisa looked at it in surprise and then she saw that there was a note for her father as well.

  “The flowers and note were delivered half an hour ago, Miss Charisa, by a groom from The Priory,” the butler explained.

  “I imagined that was where they must have come from,” she replied, “please have them put in water for me.”

  “Very good, Miss Charisa.”

  She would have turned away, but the butler then informed her,

  “There’s a card with the flowers, miss.”

  Charisa saw the card and picked it up.

  It said,

  “To the most beautiful of my cousins,

  with love from Gervais.”

  She read it with surprise before handing it to her father.

  The Colonel was reading the note he had received.

  “Gervais is hoping that we have not forgotten his invitation and is expecting us as soon after luncheon as we can manage,” he announced.

  He then looked at the card that his daughter had handed him.

  Just for a moment there was a frown between his eyes and then he said quietly so that the servants would not overhear him,

  “Very French and once again he is ‘rushing his fences’!”

  The way he spoke made Charisa laugh.

  As she walked upstairs she told herself firmly that it was a mistake to take Gervais too seriously.

  He was putting on an act and performing very cleverly. At the same time neither she nor her father need be deceived by it.

  She reached her bedroom.

  As she went in, she was thinking that, if her father was not a very rich man, Gervais would not be so attentive!

  The same applied to her.

  He must have known many women in Paris whom he could have married if he had wished to do so.

  But perhaps as he was not then as important as he was now, she reasoned, they would not entertain the idea.

  ‘The French are very practical in such matters,’ she mused.

  Alternatively they might not be heiresses as she would be as her father’s only child.

  ‘He may be able to pull the wool over most people’s eyes,’ she told herself, ‘but not mine!’

  Having changed her riding habit for a very pretty gown, she went downstairs to find her father waiting for her,

  “Luncheon is ready,” he announced, “but there is no hurry. I have no intention of going to The Priory until the time we have already agreed.”

  “I thought you would say that,” Charisa said.

  She slipped her arm through her father’s as they walked down the corridor towards the dining room.

  “I love you, Papa,” she sighed, “and I am so glad you are not going to be stampeded by an untrained horse.”

  “Hardly untrained,” her father replied. “I think it is more a question of being over-trained or perhaps, to put it another way, over-eager.”

  Charisa smiled before she said,

  “It seems a little unkind, but I cannot help feeling that your money has a great deal to do with it.”

  Her father nodded.

  “I realised that yesterday when Gervais told me that he was extremely hard up.”

  Charisa looked at her father in consternation.

  “Are you saying he has no money at all?”

  “Very little,” the Colonel replied. “In fact Matthews warned me when I was talking to him about Vincent’s death that Gervais’s father was in debt when he died.”

  Charisa knew that Matthews was the Solicitor to the Mawdelyn Estate.

  “Apparently,” her father went on, “the Marquis paid up what was owed and gave Gervais an allowance every year as he did to quite a number of the Mawde family.”

  He did not say anything else for a moment as Charisa waited for him to continue,

  Then, as she knew that her father was debating with himself whether he should say anything more, she asked,

  “Please tell me the rest.”

  “Well, according to Matthews,” the Colonel said, “Gervais was certainly overdrawn and always asking the Marquis for more. He warned him several times that he was not the only member of the family in need, but as he was a kind man, he usually paid up.”

  “No wonder Gervais was delighted at coming into the title,” Charisa said. “And having a great deal more money than he has ever had before.”

  “It is not enough to keep the house and the estate going as it is now,” the Colonel remarked.

  “Unless you give him the same assistance as you gave his uncle.”

  “I helped George because I was very fond of him,” her father explained, “but it is a rather different thing to be saddled with a young man I have never seen until yesterday and who has a reputation for overspending.”

  “Then that is why he thinks that his only way for him to survive is to marry me,” Charisa said.

  Unexpectedly her father brought his hand down sharply on the table.

  “I will not have you pressured into doing anything you do not wish to do!”

  “Thank you. Papa. In which case what are you going to do about Gervais?”

  “I will help him in a small way until I am quite certain that it is the right for me to give him more,” her father replied, “but, like you, I will not be pressured!”

  They both laughed.

  Then Charisa said,

  “In a way it upsets me. I hate to think of all this intrigue going on at The Priory. But, I suppose, like any young man, he is desperate and clutching at straws.”

  “That is just what he may prove to be,” her father said. “In the meantime we both agree that you will think it over and do nothing hastily.”

  “You are so sensible, Papa,” Charisa said. “But it is going to be difficult. So I suggest we do not stay at The Priory any longer than is necessary.”

  “We will return home the very moment you ask me to do so,” the Colonel said as he smiled, “but I am quite certain that Gervais wi
ll be too clever and there will be other people there, so you may find that you are enjoying yourself.”

  “I – hope so – Papa,” Charisa stammered.

  At the same time there was a doubtful note in her voice that was inescapable.

  Chapter Three

  Charisa was still running around the house with things that she had to tidy or put away when the carriage came to the door.

  She knew that her father hated to keep the horses waiting.

  She therefore pushed a vase and several other small objects into her maid’s arms, saying,

  “Put these away for me, Mary, and don’t hide them so that I cannot find them again when I come back.”

  Her lady’s maid, who had been with her for some years, laughed.

  “I’ll do that, miss, and come ’ome soon, we misses you when you’re not ’ere.”

  “As I miss you,” Charisa replied.

  When they went to The Priory, she never took her lady’s maid.

  The housemaids whom she had known since she was a small child liked to look after her themselves.

  Her father took his valet, as he refused to go anywhere without him and Wilkins had already gone ahead with the luggage.

  He would have everything unpacked and ready for her father as soon as he arrived.

  Picking up the shady hat that went with the gown she was wearing, Charisa ran down the stairs.

  The Colonel was waiting in the hall.

  “Come along. Come along!” he urged in what she called his ‘Regimental voice’. We are keeping the horses waiting!”

  Charisa only smiled.

  At the same time she hurried down the steps and into the open carriage.

  As her father climbed in and they started off, she said,

  “It really is a nuisance going to The Priory when there are so many things I should be doing at home. But I am sure, whatever he feels about me, that Gervais cannot do without you.”

  “You are right about that,” her father replied. “I have come to the conclusion that he knows very little about the English way of life and it is not going to be easy for him at his age to learn new tricks.”

  Charisa laughed.

  “I am sure you will find that he is adaptable and at least he is willing to learn.”

  “He is certainly most civil about it,” the Colonel replied grudgingly.

  They drove on down the narrow lanes and, looking around her, Charisa thought that the countryside was looking very beautiful.

  She loved it in the spring, when there were daffodils, primroses and violets in bloom everywhere.

  She loved it too now that it was summertime with bees humming round the honeysuckle and the crops glowing golden in the fields.

  She knew that it was entirely due to her father that the crops at Mawdelyn were almost as good as his own.

  ‘Gervais ought to be very very grateful to Papa,’ she reflected.

  The horses had now reached the outskirts of the village.

  As they did so, the Vicar ran out from the gate of the Vicarage waving his arms.

  Without being told the coachman brought the horses to an abrupt standstill.

  The Vicar, who was a middle-aged man with his hair greying at the temples, came to the side of the carriage.

  “I was just coming to call on you, Colonel,” he began.

  “I am sorry, Vicar,” the Colonel replied, “but Charisa and I have been asked to stay at The Priory and that is where we are going now.”

  The Vicar looked so worried that the Colonel added,

  “What did you want to see me about? Is it important?”

  “I think it is,” the Vicar answered. “I hate to delay you, but would it be possible for you to come into the Vicarage for a just a few minutes?”

  “Of course we can,” the Colonel replied.

  “It’s very kind of you,” the Vicar said in an apologetic voice, “and I dislike being a nuisance, but I do need your advice.”

  The Coachman and the footman on the box had, of course, heard what he had said.

  As the Vicar hurried to open the gate that led into a small driveway, the horses were turned back.

  They drove through the gate and up to the house.

  It was a very attractive Vicarage that had been built over fifty years ago and was, Charisa knew, very comfortable.

  It was also on the large side now that the Vicar’s children had all grown up and left home.

  She noted how pretty the garden looked, which was Mrs. Taylor’s pet hobby.

  As they entered the hall, there was the fragrance of roses from an arrangement on one of the tables.

  The room that the Vicar took them into had several vases of flowers in it as well.

  It was, as Charisa knew, his particular sanctum, where he wrote his sermons.

  The walls were covered with books and he had up to a year ago tutored her in English literature.

  He was an extremely intelligent man, and she had loved her lessons with him.

  They usually ended in discussions not only on English literature, but also on every other subject possible.

  She had often thought how very lucky she was to have somebody living in the village who could tell her so many things she wanted to know, not only about the present world but the whole growth of civilisation from its very beginning.

  She had, in fact, met the Vicar earlier that morning.

  She had gone into the village to buy something from the shop, which sold everything anyone in the vicinity could possibly want.

  This was the reason that he had not greeted her again.

  Now, as she settled herself into a comfortable chair, he said,

  “You will forgive me, Charisa, if you are in a hurry to reach The Priory.”

  “I am in no hurry,” Charisa replied. “If we are truthful, neither Papa nor I really have the time to stay there.”

  As she spoke, she realised that the Vicar was not listening.

  He was looking at her father and it was obvious that he was very concerned about something..

  “Well, what is the trouble, Vicar?” the Colonel now asked him.

  “I went to call at The Priory this morning,” the Vicar began, “and, after waiting for some time, as I understood his Lordship had not yet come down to breakfast, I was at last able to meet him.”

  The Colonel was listening.

  However, Charisa knew that her father was wondering what could have happened and why the Vicar seemed to be in such an agitated state.

  “As you know,” he continued, “I had not met the Marquis before, as I did not come here until twelve years ago.”

  “That is right, I remember,” the Colonel agreed, “and we have all thought since then how lucky we have been to have you.”

  “As you know,” the Vicar went on, “the late Marquis was very kind to me and extended his friendship to me. I have actually been very happy here.”

  “As I hope you will continue to be for many more years to come,” the Colonel responded.

  “It is about that that I wish to consult you,” the Vicar replied.

  The Colonel looked surprised and Charisa was aware that he had sat up a little stiffly in his chair.

  “What happened this morning?” he asked sharply.

  “I welcomed his Lordship and then told him I was the present incumbent of the Parish and I expressed the hope that I would be able to serve him as I had his uncle before him.”

  There was silence and then, as no one spoke, the Vicar continued,

  “His Lordship did not seem to know that the Living was in his gift. When I explained to him that whoever became the Marquis of Mawdelyn had the right to appoint the incumbent of the Parish and also to pay him his stipend, he seemed surprised.

  “‘I am not only Minister to the village and the estate, my Lord,’” I said, ‘I am also your Lordship’s Private Chaplain.’

  “He stared at me, but he did not speak and so I went on,

  “’Your Lordship’s uncle attended the S
ervices in the Parish Church and always read a lesson.’

  “‘Read a lesson?’ his Lordship exclaimed.

  “’Yes, my Lord,” I replied. “It is a tradition that goes back several generations.’

  “Yes, of course,” the Colonel interposed. “I should have thought he might have been aware of that!”

  “I then explained to his Lordship,” the Vicar continued, “that once a month I hold the Service in the large Chapel at The Priory because it is not always easy for the whole household, especially when there is a large party, to come to the Services in the Parish Church.”

  “I have always thought that a very sensible arrangement,” Charisa said. “Some of the housemaids are far too old to have to hurry to Church and hurry back when there is so much to do both in the morning and in the evening.”

  “I was just about to explain this to his Lordship,” the Vicar said, “when he told me that he was bringing his own Private Chaplain over from France!”

  For a moment both the Colonel and Charisa were silent in astonishment.

  Then the Colonel exclaimed,

  “His own Private Chaplain? Good gracious, do you imagine that having lived in France the Marquis is a Roman Catholic? The idea never occurred to me.”

  “He did not say so,” the Vicar replied. “He merely said that my services would no longer be required at The Priory.”

  He looked more worried than ever as he went on,

  “I also had the feeling, Colonel, that he might put his private Chaplain in my position.”

  “No, of course, he could not do that,” the Colonel said. “You are indispensable to the whole village and everybody in the neighbourhood is very fond of you.”

  “That is true,” Charisa interjected. “I think there would be a revolution if Gervais even suggested your leaving here.”

  “I must emphasise,” the Vicar said quickly, “that his Lordship did not say that he wished me to go. I only felt that the idea was in his mind when he was talking about his own Chaplain.”

  “Did he say whether he was French or English?” the Colonel quizzed him.

  The Vicar shook his head.

  The Colonel thought for a moment and then he said,

  “You must leave this to me, Vicar, I will explain to Gervais how indispensable you are not only to those on the estate but also in the village and in fact your reputation has spread all over the County.”