Love is Triumphant Read online

  "Mr. and Mrs. William Gladstone," announced the butler.

  Lady Blakemore hurried to greet the great man who led the Liberal party, and who was widely expected to be the next Prime Minister. The room began to buzz again. Arthur Woodward's attention was riveted.

  It took the Gladstones some time to greet everyone, because so many people wanted some of the great man's time. When he came to the Clarendons he shook hands and stood talking intently with them in a way that everyone agreed was very significant.

  Then his eyes warmed as he saw Rosina.

  "And how is my dear god-daughter?" he asked, hugging her.

  "All the better for seeing you, dear Uncle William," she said, embracing him and then embracing Mrs. Gladstone, who also greeted her warmly.

  Lady Doreen had also met Mr. Gladstone before, but she was not his god-daughter. There was an extra warmth in his greeting of Rosina, and she sensed that Arthur Woodward was aware of every nuance as his sharp eyes darted from one to the other.

  It was time to go in to dinner. Rosina found herself sitting between two gentlemen whom she did not know, but with whom she fell easily into conversation. On the other side of the table she could see Lettice Holden flirting shamelessly with Sir John.

  But her efforts would be useless, Rosina felt sure. He had far too much delicacy to be attracted to such a vulgar young woman.

  She also had a good view of Arthur Woodward who was sitting beside Mrs. Gladstone, turning all his charm on her and neglecting the sad looking spinster on his other side.

  Afterwards the ladies retired to have coffee in the drawing-room, while the men stayed over their port. When they finally joined the ladies, Arthur came straight over to Lady Doreen.

  Now he had many secret things to say which only she could hear.

  'I hate him,' Rosina said to herself. 'I hate him and I will never, never in the whole of my life fall in love with a man like that. All he cares about is what benefit she can bring him.'

  As she thought of the loving letters he had written to

  Miss Draycott, she wanted to get up and hit him over the head, then to tell the whole world how corrupt and appalling he was.

  But she could not do so in this house. Her father needed Lord Blakemore's friendship.

  'But only his friendship,' she thought angrily. 'Papa always pays his own election expenses, while Mr. Woodward will be having his paid by the Blakemore family.'

  At that moment the young man looked up and caught her eye. Smiling, he came to join her.

  "May I fetch you some more coffee?" he asked.

  "Thank you, I should like that," she said as warmly as she could manage.

  She had decided that it was time she became better acquainted with Mr. Woodward.

  And, of course, he wished to become better acquainted with the daughter of a man who might soon be in a position of power.

  "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you before," he said, returning with the coffee.

  "I'm not really 'out' yet," she explained. "In fact, I was only recently at school."

  "I find it hard to picture you as still a schoolgirl," he said. "You seem so confident and sophisticated."

  "You're too kind. In my last year at Laine Hall, we were taught how to behave in society."

  There was a perceptible rattle from the cup in his hand, she was glad to note.

  "Did – you say – Laine Hall?"

  "That's right. It's a school on the edge of Papa's constituency. Have you heard of it?"

  "I – believe so."

  "Have you been to that part of the world recently?"

  "I – yes – that is," he stammered. "It's near my own constituency – the one I hope will be mine – "

  His face was pale.

  "Then, of course, you pay frequent visits," Rosina said, smiling implacably, "to make yourself familiar with the place."

  "That is – one of my duties."

  "I should really have been at school now, but I had to leave early, owing to a very upsetting experience."

  "I'm sorry to hear that." He had recovered some of his smooth manner.

  "Well, the experience was not mine, but that of a good friend of mine, a teacher called Miss Draycott."

  He neither moved nor spoke, but his face was the colour of death.

  "Perhaps you have met her, Mr. Woodward?"

  "No," he said, the word exploding from his mouth like a bullet from a gun. "Why should you think I – that is – I don't believe I've had that pleasure."

  'I could almost believe you,' she thought, 'if I hadn't seen you sitting with her in a teashop, holding her hand and gazing into her eyes.'

  "No," he said again, "I never met this lady, but I do recall hearing of her, that she left the school without warning. Friends who wrote to her were informed that she had departed suddenly."

  'Of course' she thought. 'After I left, you grew nervous because she didn't return the things you'd asked for. I expect you wrote, reminding her, but your letter came back with a note to say that Miss Draycott had left without leaving an address. Since then you've been on hot coals wondering where she is and what she did with your compromising letters.'

  "Yes," she said aloud. "She did depart very suddenly indeed."

  "Do you happen to know where she has gone?" he asked with an attempt to sound casual.

  Rosina drew a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye.

  "She is dead, Mr. Woodward."

  It did her good to see the look that passed across his face.

  It was one of stark terror.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rosina spent the rest of the evening in a mood of angry excitement. She had struck a blow for Miss Draycott, and it was a thrilling experience.

  Now that she had seen Arthur Woodward at close quarters, she hated him even more than in the past. His ease of manner, his assurance, only made her think of her friend, lying dead.

  Fairly soon after their encounter she went to her father's side and said, so that only he could hear,

  "I think we ought to go home. You have a great deal to do tomorrow and if you are tired you will find it very difficult."

  He smiled at her.

  "You are quite right," he agreed. "We must go home. But I have enjoyed coming here tonight and I hope the Earl's daughter will stay your friend."

  He lowered his voice before he went on,

  "I hear they have parties almost every week. That is what you would enjoy, I am quite certain."

  "Actually I enjoy being with you," Rosina replied. "I think we will find it difficult to concentrate on anything else until the election is over."

  Her father laughed.

  "You are quite right, darling," he said. "But I think you have had rather a difficult and unhappy time recently, and now I want you to enjoy yourself. So if they ask you to come again, you must accept."

  Before they left, Arthur Woodward sought her out. After their brief conversation, she had turned away, giving him no time to reply, and she could tell that he had been agitated ever since.

  He uttered the conventional words of farewell, but his anxious eyes seemed to bore into her, as if, in that way, he could seek out her true meaning.

  It was with difficulty that she shook him by the hand.

  "It has been a great pleasure to meet you and your parents," he said to her. "I wish for your father the same success that I long to have myself."

  He paused for a moment.

  Rosina knew that he expected her to give him words of encouragement and flattery.

  Instead, without speaking, she walked away. She could sense him staring after her, wondering why his charm did not seem to work. Or perhaps fearful that the reason was the one he suspected.

  "Is Sir John not accompanying us?" she asked when she and her parents were in the carriage.

  "I saw him deep in conversation with the Holdens," Lady Clarendon replied. "No doubt they will convey him in their carriage."

  So the Holdens were determined to get their claw
s into him, Rosina thought. On the other hand, it was a relief, as she wanted to speak about Mr. Woodward without alerting Sir John.

  "Do you think that Mr. Woodward is likely to win in

  South Gradley?" she asked her father.

  "I think he is going to have a tough time," her father replied. "A new constituency is always difficult. Don't tell me he took your fancy. I thought your manner to him was rather cool when we said goodbye."

  "He most certainly did not take my fancy. I have no wish to meet him again."

  "Perfectly right, my love," her mother said.

  Rosina was tired, and went to bed as soon as they reached home. But she did not, as she had expected, fall asleep at once. She lay awake until nearly two o'clock, when she heard the sound of a carriage in the street below. Getting out of bed, she went to the window and looked down to where Sir John was just entering the front door.

  Strangely enough, after that it was even harder to get to sleep.

  *

  The following morning Rosina and her mother settled down to the serious business of planning her debut ball.

  The guest list was glittering, since Papa knew not only the Blakemores but almost all the great titles in the House of Lords.

  "The Duke of Allion will be there, with his eldest son whose engagement has just been broken off," Lady Clarendon said with satisfaction.

  "Mama, that is going much too far," Rosina said, laughing. "You can't marry me to a Duke, not unless I had as much money as the Holdens."

  "Ah yes, the Holdens. They must be invited for John's sake. You do well to remind me."

  "I didn't mean – "

  "And the Blakemores will bring their eldest son whom

  you have already met – "

  Rosina gave up, convinced that her mother was beyond reason.

  "Now Miss Kennington will be here this afternoon to discuss your dress, and then – yes, Amesbury?"

  "Mr. Woodward has called, Your Ladyship," the butler informed her.

  "Indeed?" Lady Clarendon did not look pleased at this visit by a penniless man. "Very well, show him in please, Amesbury."

  "Surely you cannot have encouraged him?" she asked when the butler had gone.

  "No, Mama. He doesn't please me at all. But he's so obviously seeking to ingratiate himself in society that I suspect he's calling on everybody."

  "Let us hope that it is no more than that."

  He entered, apparently at ease, smiling, full of practised charm, uttering words of thanks to those who had been 'so kind' to him the previous evening.

  But Rosina was not deceived. She saw his pallor, his dismayed glance at her mother. He was on edge, longing to find out more from herself, but unable to speak unless he could see her alone.

  Lady Clarendon spoke to him politely but without warmth, and she did not offer him refreshments. Rosina replied to his questions as briefly as possible.

  He grew paler still as he realised that he would not be able to talk to her alone.

  Then, just when it seemed that he had no choice but to leave, Sir Elroy walked in and greeted the young man cordially.

  "Woodward!," he exclaimed, shaking his hand. "I

  hear fine things about you from Lord Blakemore. Well, I expect we'll be seeing you at my daughter's ball, eh? That's right. Everyone will be there."

  "Thank you, sir. I shall greatly look forward to it."

  Defeated, Lady Clarendon had no choice but to murmur,

  "I shall send you an invitation, Mr. Woodward."

  "I shall look forward to it eagerly, Lady Clarendon."

  "Come and talk to me, my boy," Sir Elroy said jovially, sweeping the visitor off to his study.

  Lady Clarendon waited until they were out of earshot before saying carefully,

  "I have only admiration and respect for your Papa, who is clearly going to be a great statesman. But sometimes I wish he would mind his own business!"

  *

  Rosina's debut dress was glorious white silk, adorned with tiny white rosebuds. The skirt swept back to a bustle that swished elegantly as she walked, and the bosom was cut lower than any dress she had ever worn before.

  With it she would wear her mother's dazzling pearl jewellery, taken out of the bank where it was normally stored, and now cleaned and reset. As well as a necklace there was a tiara, ear-rings and bracelets.

  The guest list swelled every day. The Blakemores were coming, so were several other titled families, including several of the opposite political persuasion to the Clarendons. Sir Elroy was a popular man in both Houses of Parliament, and, as he said,

  "This is a party, not a political convention. I shall invite all my friends, no matter what they believe."

  "There's a rumour that Mr. Disraeli himself will be

  coming," Sir John told Rosina.

  "I can hardly believe it."

  "Mr Disraeli likes a good party, and this is rapidly becoming the party to attend. Anybody who was excluded could never hold up their head again. You're going to be the belle of London."

  "But of course," she said carelessly. "Look at who my father is."

  "No," Sir John said quietly. "Not because of him. Because of yourself. I know that some men will chase you for gain. That's the way of the world. But most of them will admire you for your honesty and sweet nature."

  There was a note in his voice that she had never heard before. It disturbed her obscurely and she quickly riposted,

  "You're very uncomplimentary, sir. You don't say they'll admire my beauty."

  He smiled.

  "I thought we could take that for granted."

  "Then you are mistaken," she said in a teasing voice. "Women do not like having their beauty taken for granted. They prefer it to be mentioned."

  "Some women like to have their looks praised constantly," he agreed. "But I don't think you are one of them. You have a good mind and a generous heart, and you should never marry until you find a man who values them above looks, above advancement and above money."

  There was something in his tone that touched her heart, and for a moment she almost softened. But the mention of money conjured up Lettice Holden and inwardly she drew back.

  "Then I think I shall never marry," she said with a careless shrug, "since where is such a man to be found? Nowhere, I would have thought."

  "Don't," he said fiercely. "Don't talk like that."

  "I shall speak as I please. How dare you try to give me orders!"

  "I do not order. I implore. You're about to enter a world where everything is for sale and all true values are turned upside down."

  "Do you think you have to tell me that?" she flashed. "Haven't I reason to know it?"

  "Yes, that's what makes me afraid for you. You're so full of anger and mistrust, but I beg you not to become hard and suspicious."

  "No, I should be stupid and trusting like other girls, and believe everything a man tells me."

  "Of course not. It's right that you remember your friend, but don't let it turn you against the world. You're sweet and gentle, and that is what makes you lovable, not – "

  He checked himself abruptly. In his eagerness he had seized her hands and was holding them tightly. There was a burning light in his eyes as he looked at her, and she could feel his warm breath fanning her face.

  Startled, Rosina gazed back at him so that their eyes met and she seemed to be looking directly into his soul. At the same time she had a disconcerting feeling that he too was looking into her soul.

  She took fright. How dare he do this, as though every thought and feeling she had was opened up to him. How dare he understand her!

  She snatched her hands back, turning away from him.

  "Forgive me," he said. "I didn't mean to – what you do is none of my business."

  "Indeed it is not," she said in a shaking voice.

  "I wish you every success Miss Clarendon. You deserve the best that the world has to offer."

  Without warning she found herself on the verge of tears. She took
a moment to control herself, then turned back to smile at him, wanting to be friends again.

  But he had gone.

  *

  At last the night of Rosina's debut ball arrived. The great ballroom was gloriously decorated with flowers, the orchestra was taking its place, beginning to tune up.

  Rosina stood in front of the mirror, taking in the sight of herself in her fabulous white dress. Pearls gleamed softly in her hair, in her ears and around her neck.

  Rosina drew a long breath, trying to believe that this vision was really her.

  "My love, you look so beautiful!" her mother said ecstatically. "All the men will fall in love with you."

  "I don't want to be greedy, Mama," Rosina said demurely. "Five or six will do."

  Sir Elroy appeared and kissed his daughter.

  "You look lovely, my dear."

  "Oh Papa, if only Charles had managed to be here!"

  "I know. His last letter said that he would do his best, but obviously it wasn't possible. Now we must go down to greet our guests, who will be arriving soon."

  The three of them went out into the corridor just as Sir John appeared from his room. He stopped and stood looking at her as if he could not believe his eyes.

  "Miss Clarendon," he stammered, "may I say that you look – magnificent?"

  "Thank you kind sir. And you too look exactly right."

  He was in white tie and tails and looked, she was sure,

  more splendid than any man had ever looked.

  "Thank you, ma'am," he said, bowing slightly.

  She pulled herself together. It would never do to let him think she was gaping at him.

  "I'm sure Miss Holden will approve," she said, recovering herself.

  "Miss Holden?" echoed Sir Elroy, who was not quite abreast of events. "Is she – ?"

  "Don't let us stand here chattering," his wife broke in with a determined smile. "Our guests await."

  The four of them walked down the broad staircase just as the butler opened the door and announced the first arrival.

  In a short time the ballroom was filled with all the most glittering names in London, whether political or aristocratic, or both.