A BATTLE OF BRAINS
BARBARA CARTLAND
www.barbaracartland.com
Copyright © 2009 by Cartland Promotions
First published on the internet in September 2009
The characters and situations in this book are
entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real
person or actual happening.
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A BATTLE OF BRAINS
Suddenly the door behind her was flung open.
Yolanda turned round, terrified.
Mr. Watson was standing there with the light from his
bedroom behind him.
He was wearing only a silk nightshirt.
For a moment he stared at her and then he asked in a
thick voice,
“What do you want? What are you doing here?”
Yolanda moved forward so that he should not see the
open case behind her.
“I just – came in,” she stammered in a frightened voice,
“to see that you have – everything you – want.”
“Everything I want? I thought that was what I had,” he
slurred in a drunken tone. “Now I see you, I know
you
are
what I want!”
As he spoke, he lurched forward towards her.
Realising what he had implied, Yolanda turned to run
away.
But she was too late.
THE BARBARA CARTLAND
PINK COLLECTION
Barbara Cartland was the most prolific bestselling
author in the history of the world. She was frequently in the
Guinness Book of Records for writing more books in a year
than any other living author. In fact her most amazing literary
feat was when her publishers asked for more Barbara
Cartland romances, she doubled her output from 10 books
a year to over 20 books a year, when she was 77.
She went on writing continuously at this rate for 20
years and wrote her last book at the age of 97, thus
completing 400 books between the ages of 77 and 97.
Her publishers finally could not keep up with this
phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160
unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other
author has ever achieved.
Now the exciting news is that these 160 original
unpublished Barbara Cartland books are ready for
publication
and
they
will
be
published
by
Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the web
is the best possible way to reach so many Barbara
Cartland readers around the world.
The 160 books will be published monthly and will be
numbered in sequence.
The series is called the Pink Collection as a tribute to
Barbara Cartland whose favourite colour was pink and it
became very much her trademark over the years.
The Barbara Cartland Pink Collection is published only
on the internet. Log on to
www.barbaracartland.com
to find
out how you can purchase the books monthly as they are
published, and take out a subscription that will ensure that
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If you do not have access to a computer you can write
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HA3 7BB
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Telephone & fax: +44 (0)20 8863 2520
1. The Cross Of Love
2. Love In The Highlands
3. Love Finds The Way
4. The Castle Of Love
5. Love Is Triumphant
6. Stars In The Sky
7. The Ship Of Love
8. A Dangerous Disguise
9. Love Became Theirs
10. Love Drives In
11. Sailing To Love
12. The Star Of Love
13. Music Is The Soul Of
Love
14. Love In The East
15. Theirs To Eternity
16. A Paradise On Earth
17. Love Wins In Berlin
18. In Search Of Love
31. The Richness Of Love
32. For Ever And Ever
33. An Unexpected Love
34. Saved By An Angel
35. Touching The Stars
36. Seeking Love
37. Journey To Love
38. The Importance Of
Love
39. Love By The Lake
40. A Dream Come True
41. The King Without A
Heart
42. The Waters Of Love
43. Danger To The Duke
44. A Perfect Way To
Heaven
45. Follow Your Heart
46. In Hiding
Titles in this series
These titles are currently available for download. For
more information please see the
Where to buy page
at the
end of this book.
19. Love Rescues
Rosanna
20. A Heart In Heaven
21. The House Of
Happiness
22. Royalty Defeated By
Love
23. The White Witch
24. They Sought Love
25. Love Is The Reason
For Living
26. They Found Their Way
To Heaven
27. Learning To Love
28. Journey To Happiness
29. A Kiss In The Desert
30. The Heart Of Love
47. Rivals For Love
48. A Kiss From The
Heart
49. Lovers In London
50. This Way To Heaven
51. A Princess Prays
52. Mine For Ever
53. The Earl’s Revenge
54. Love At The Tower
55. Ruled By Love
56. Love Came From
Heaven
57. Love And Apollo
58. The Keys Of Love
59. A Castle Of Dreams
60. A Battle of Brains
THE LATE DAME BARBARA
CARTLAND
Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the
grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most
famous romantic novelists. With worldwide sales of over
one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been
translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed
by readers of romance globally.
Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21,
Barbara became an immediate bestseller. Building upon
this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her
life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. In
addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and
across Europe, her books have always been immensely
popular in the USA. In 1976 she achieved the
unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in
the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.
Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of
Romance’, Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical
biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical
plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery.
Becoming one of Britain's most popular media
personalities and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara
spoke on radio and television about social and political
issues, as well as making many public appearances.
In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the
British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work
for humanitarian and charitable causes.
Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara
Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime. Best
remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved
by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain
treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and
traditional values. But above all, it was Barbara Cartland’s
overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal
and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her
truly unique.
“
To find true love you need your brains and your
body, but most important of all is your soul.”
Barbara Cartland
CHAPTER ONE
1889
Yolanda laid the flowers on her mother’s grave and
said a prayer as she did so.
She found it hard to believe that she would never again
see her mother she adored.
She had already cried herself to sleep every night
since she learnt of her death.
It seemed that she had no more tears to shed.
It had happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly that
even now it was difficult to believe.
She still expected her mother to be waiting for her.
She would be holding out her arms as she always did
when they had been away from each other.
Yolanda had been a pupil at a Convent school just
outside Paris.
Four days ago the Mother Superior had sent for her
and she had gone slowly to her office wondering what she
had done wrong.
She never dreamt it could be a message from home.
The Mother Superior had broken the dreadful news to
her gently, but at the same time it was such a shock that for
a moment the news was impossible to believe.
Yolanda felt as if the ground had been pulled from
under her.
They had been through so much together since her
father died and she had believed for a long time that the
only safe and secure rock in her life was her mother.
Now she was dead too and Yolanda knew that she
was alone.
It was only after a very long silence that the Mother
Superior said,
“Your stepfather, Yolanda, has asked you to return
home at once, which I feel certain you will wish to do. You
will unfortunately be too late to attend your mother’s funeral,
but he wants you to be with him.”
Yolanda had given a little shiver.
She never wished to be with her stepfather and she
could not understand why he wanted her now.
Equally if he ordered her to return, there was really
nothing she could do about it.
She had had plenty of time to ponder her situation on
the long journey home, accompanied by an ancient nun who
had been instructed to chaperone her.
For hours Yolanda was silent, looking back into the
past and seeing everything in a very different way.
Her dearest father, the Earl of Longwood, had been
the most handsome, charming and delightful man anyone
could possibly meet.
Wherever they were and whatever was happening,
they always seemed to be laughing.
Yolanda believed no one could have been happier
than she had been with two such wonderful parents.
It was only as she grew up that she understood.
The many difficulties, frustrations and moments of
despair in her parent’s lives became clearer.
Her father, after inheriting the Earldom, was given a
dreadful shock – except for the title that had been in the
family for several centuries, he received nothing else from
his father.
The Fifth Earl had spent considerably more than his
income and he had sold everything that was saleable.
The London house had gone first and then all the land
in the country that had not been entailed, such as the house
and its contents.
It was heartbreaking for the new Earl.
His father had left a considerable number of debts too,
which more or less equalled his own and, as far as he could
see, there was no chance of meeting them.
He was therefore forced to let out the family house and
estate, which brought him in a little money.
He, his wife and daughter had then moved into the
Dower House.
Yolanda did not know exactly when her father took up
gambling, but she could understand, now she was older,
that it was a desperate effort to win back something after all
he had lost.
She suspected that some of the possessions in the
house that he had dared not sell went to the pawnbroker.
They were usually small items that would not be
noticed by the Trustees, who visited the house and estate
every six months to check that everything was intact.
At first the Earl was very lucky at his gambling – he
won at racing, cards and, when they travelled abroad, in the
casinos as well.
As she grew up, Yolanda was fascinated when her
father came back smiling.
He would throw up his arms in delight.
“
I have won
! I have won!” he would call out to her
mother. “Now we can enjoy ourselves and, my darling, you
must have the most beautiful jewels I can find.”
Her mother accepted the gifts and Yolanda believed it
was because inevitably sooner or later they would have to
be sold or pawned.
The only presents her mother did not lose were the
many pretty gowns that her father had bought for her.
“You will always be very beautiful, my precious,” he
would tell his wife. “But I like your frame to be worthy of your
beauty.”
Because her mother had loved him so completely, she
always did whatever he wanted, regardless of the
consequences.
Yolanda remembered affectionately how sweet and
kind she was when things went wrong.
They would know only too well exactly what had
happened after an evening’s gambling had not gone well.
Her father would enter the room in a slow way and the
expression on his face told them before he spoke what had
occurred.
“I have lost,” he groaned. “I cannot think why luck had
turned against me.”
“You are asking too much, my dearest,” her mother
would say. “You won last month and indeed the month
before, but you cannot expect to win every time.”
Sometimes when things were bad they would have to
leave the comfortable hotel they had been staying in, which
meant moving into very uncomfortable lodgings and eating
inferior food.
But invariably, in some way or another, her father was
able to find the money to carry on gambling.
It was indeed a strange life, Yolanda mused, as the
train carried her from Paris to Calais.
She had visited Baden-Baden in Germany with her
parents and found the town incredibly beautiful. And she
had spent several weeks in Hamburg.
They had then travelled back to London after one of
her father’s more successful spells at the roulette tables
and rented a house in Mayfair.
He had then been in touch with several of his old
friends whom he had not seen for many years, and they had
been delighted to see him again.
They made a great fuss of the beautiful Countess of
Longwood too, much to the delight of her adoring husband.
Next a governess was engaged for Yolanda and she
enjoyed going to Hyde Park to see the horses in Rotten
Row.
The beautiful Society ladies, like her mother, drove in
an open Victoria, an elegant French carriage with a raised
driver's seat drawn by two magnificent horses.
Accompanied by a liveried coachman, the ladies rode
through the parks of London with small sunshades held up
over their heads.
Then she recalled how very suddenly her father had
decided to go to Paris, as he wanted to attend the racing
that was about to take place on the new Racecourse in the
Bois de Boulogne.
“I know which horse is going to win the big race,” he
boasted, “and I intend to make a packet on him!”
Her mother agreed with him as she always did.
So they set off for Paris and stayed at a large and
impressive hotel.
As a special treat Yolanda was allowed to go to the
Racecourse and she had known without being told that the
racehorses she saw were the finest in Europe.
The horse which her father had come to see run was
outstanding and she was well aware that a great number of
people were putting their money on him to win.
The race was thrilling and the horses moved at an
almost impossible speed, sweeping like typhoons past the
winning post.
But the horse her father had backed was not in the first
three.
The result was such a surprise to a large number of
race goers that a groan echoed around the enclosure.
It was then that her father had exclaimed angrily,
“I don’t believe it! The whole race was a cheat and
there should be a full enquiry as to why the favourite was
pulled in at the last moment!”
Unfortunately, the horse’s owner, who took umbrage at
the suggestion of cheating, overheard her father’s loud
comments.
Yolanda was not quite certain what happened between
them, but upon returning to the hotel that evening, she was
horrified to discover that her father was expected to fight a
duel at dawn the next morning.
Her mother was distraught at the prospect.
“You cannot do it, darling,” she wept over and over
again. “You have not fought a duel for many years and
these Frenchmen are experts at it.”
“It is something I cannot refuse,” replied the Earl, “and,
damn him, he has lost us every penny we possess!”
Yolanda remembered that her mother had not been in
the slightest concerned about the losses – she was only
worried about her father fighting in a duel.
She was still pleading with him desperately to refuse to
take part when they retired to bed.
“You know as well as I do,” insisted the Earl, “that I
have to behave like a gentleman. It would besmirch my
honour to refuse!”
There was nothing further her mother could say to
dissuade him, but Yolanda could see the tears in her eyes.
They drove off together before dawn to the Bois de
Boulogne where duels always took place.
Her father was not killed – but badly wounded.
Although he was taken back to the hotel where they
were staying and the doctors sent for at once, his wound
became septic.
Finally after three days in agony, he died.
To his adoring wife it was the end of the world and she
could only weep helplessly.
They had been very happy together and the endless
difficulties over money had not seemed important as long
as they both shared success and failure.
Her father had been buried in a graveyard in Paris, as
it was too expensive to take his body back to England.
Yolanda had then asked her mother what they were
going to do and the Countess made a helpless gesture with
her hands.
“I have no idea, my darling,” she answered. “We have
no money and we owe a great deal to the hotel apart from
anything else.”
“Oh, Mama!” exclaimed Yolanda. “Perhaps they will
prosecute us if we cannot pay! We might even have to go
to prison!”
Her mother had not responded, only cried more tears
of despair, whilst Yolanda shivered because she was so
afraid.
It was then, and it seemed at the time almost like a
miracle, that Mr. Garrack had come into their lives.
He was staying in the same hotel and Yolanda had
noticed him when they were having dinner the night before
the race.
He had been sitting at a table near to theirs and she
had been drawn to him, thinking he was a rather
unattractive man compared to her handsome father.
But he kept staring at her mother with such a look of
admiration in his eyes that was, in a way, very flattering.
As dinner ended her father was debating whether he
would go to a gambling house that was not too far away.
Suddenly the stranger rose from his table, bowed to
her mother and father and introduced himself,
“My name is Oliver Garrack, and you must forgive me if
it seems impertinent of me to speak to you.”
Her father, who was always charming to everyone he
met, smiled at him and commented,
“We are staying in the same hotel, are we not?”
“I was just counting my lucky stars,” Mr. Garrack said,
“because it has allowed me to see the most beautiful
woman I have ever set eyes on!”
He was looking at her mother as he was speaking,
and Yolanda saw that she turned her head away as if a little
shy.
“There,” her father remarked, “I must agree with you. I
only wish I could afford to have my wife’s portrait painted by
a great artist.”
“Strangely enough,” Mr. Garrack then replied, “that is
just what I was going to ask you. You may think it very
forward, but I am a great lover of beauty. I have in my
house in England a collection by some very fine Masters.”
He paused to look at the Countess again, before he
went on,
“But none of my pictures, and many of them are of
lovely women, are as beautiful as you, my Lady.”
“That is very kind and most flattering of you,” the
Countess
responded,
obviously
feeling
a
little
embarrassed.
“What I am wondering,” he continued, “is whether you
will allow me to have your portrait painted by one of our
greatest artists, who is in Paris at this very moment?”
Yolanda recalled how her mother had looked across
the table at her father.
“We are, of course, very grateful, Mr. Garrack,” the Earl
said. “But I am afraid that we cannot accept your kind offer,
because, as soon as the racing is over tomorrow, we
intend going back to England.”
Mr Garrack was silent for a moment and then said,
“I too shall be returning home. I can only ask if you
would permit me to visit you in London, or the country, to
discuss this matter again? To me it is a matter of great
importance and it would be a great honour to add a portrait
of your wife to my collection.”
He smiled before he added,
“I am certain that future generations of art lovers would
be eternally grateful to you too.”
The Earl looked at his wife.
As they were so very close to each other, Yolanda was
always sure that they could read each other’s thoughts.
Her father clearly sensed without being told that his
wife did not want her portrait painted – in fact she had no
wish to see Mr. Garrack again.
The Earl was, however, very tactful,
“It is exceedingly generous of you and of course we
shall consider your offer seriously. But, for the moment, my
wife is tremendously busy, so it would be difficult for her to
be in London for long or to give up so much time to an
artist.”
“I do understand. Yes, of course I understand,” Mr.
Garrack had answered. “But I am just praying that one day
my dream will come true and your beautiful wife will shine in
my collection which I hope to leave, when I die, to the
National Gallery.”
The Earl was obviously impressed.
And as Mr. Garrack bowed himself away, Yolanda
remembered her mother saying,
“I don’t want to be in
his
collection, darling, only in
yours
.”
The Earl had laughed.
“Which is so small that at the moment it does not exist
except in my mind!”
Yolanda had, she recalled, somehow felt glad that they
need not be troubled further with Mr. Garrack.
Yet it was he who came to their rescue in their darkest
hour.
The day after her father was buried, her mother was
presented with a very large bill by the hotel.
She and Yolanda were both in the sitting room of their
suite when she received the bill.
When the servant had left them the Countess said in a
small, frightened voice,
“Whatever am I to do now, Yolanda? I have only my
engagement ring to sell, but I doubt if that will give us
enough money to pay this enormous bill.”
Yolanda was well aware that her father had been so
certain the horse he fancied was going to win.
He had pawned most of her mother’s best jewellery
and then sold some of her other pieces to finance even
more bets.
Looking at the bill searchingly as if she thought that
somehow there must be a mistake, the Countess asked
again,
“What am I to do? Oh, darling, what can I do?”
As she spoke there was a knock at the door.
Because her mother was crying, Yolanda jumped up to
answer it, as she would not want the servants or anyone
else to see her tears.
Outside was Mr. Garrack.
He was well dressed and sporting an orchid in his
buttonhole.
Yolanda felt that they had no wish to talk to him at this
traumatic moment.
“I would like to see your mother – ” he began.
“I am afraid that Mama is not receiving – ”
Then to her great surprise and before she had even
finished speaking, he pushed past her into the sitting room.
He crossed over the room to where her mother was
sitting with a handkerchief held to her eyes.
He went down on one knee beside her.
“You must not weep, my beautiful lady,” Yolanda heard
him say. “I cannot bear to see you so unhappy.”
Yolanda thought that it would be embarrassing for her
mother if she listened to what Mr. Garrack was saying to
her, so she went into the bedroom, but did not close the
door.
She could hear her mother, weak and tearful.
And next came Mr. Garrack’s voice, sympathetic and
flattering.
She could not hear exactly what was said, only the tone
of their voices.
Her mother’s was low and quieter whilst Mr. Garrack’s
was more determined, as if he was fighting to get his own
way.
Yolanda could not think what the conversation was all
about, unless he was once again pressing his longing for a
portrait of her mother.
If he was, she considered it rather bad taste at this
particular moment.
Anyway it would be impossible for them to stay in
Paris without any money and equally impossible, she now
feared, to leave.
She sat wondering anxiously what they could do,
wracking her brain for a solution to their hopeless situation.
For the first time in her life she began to query why they
had so few relations. She had thought about it before, but
had not actually asked any questions.
She knew that her mother’s family, who were very
distinguished, lived in the North of England. It was a long
way from London, she mused, so maybe that was the
reason she had not met any of them.
Her father’s family, if he had any, must live somewhere
in the rural County of Hertfordshire where the family home
was situated, she concluded.
‘I must ask Mama,’ she had said to herself, ‘if there is
anyone we can turn to now that things are so desperate.’
It seemed to Yolanda as if hours passed.
At last she could hear Mr. Garrack saying goodbye to
her mother and walking across the room to the door.
“I will order dinner for eight o’clock,” he said as he
reached it. “And I will be there waiting, my beautiful lady,
eagerly and excitedly for you and your daughter.”
Then he was gone.
Yolanda hurried out into the sitting room to find her
mother was no longer crying.
As Yolanda reached her, she held out her hands.
“We are saved, darling,” she cried. “Saved when I was
frightened that we might have been taken to prison.”
“What has happened, Mama?”
She knelt down beside her mother’s chair.
“It may be wrong of me,” she answered, “and some
people would think it reprehensible, but I had no choice but
to accept Mr. Garrack’s kind offer.”
“What was that, Mama?”
“Because he wants my portrait to be painted for his
collection, he has offered to pay the bill here and also to
pay for us to go back to England.”
She paused for a moment and then continued softly,
“He said there is a painter who will do me justice. He
has just painted the Princess of Wales, and a great number
of fashionable beauties including Mrs. Lillie Langtry.”
“I suppose,” Yolanda remarked a little doubtfully, “it is
very
kind of him.”
“Yes, of course it is,” her mother replied somewhat
sharply, “and I certainly cannot imagine anyone else being
so incredibly generous or understanding after such a short
acquaintance.”
There was silence for a moment before she added,
“He told me that if he had known earlier that Papa was
being buried here in Paris, he would have arranged for his
body to be taken back home to England and he could have
been buried in the tomb of his ancestors.”
Yolanda then remembered that they had not seen Mr.
Garrack in the dining room since the night he had first
spoken to her mother.
She supposed that he must have been out of Paris
and had not been aware of the duel or of her father’s death.
As if she had spoken out aloud, her mother said,
“Mr. Garrack only returned last night. When they told
him what had happened to your Papa, he was not only
shocked but as he said his ‘heart bled’ for me.”
Yolanda thought this was a somewhat exaggerated
way of talking, but she supposed it was indeed very kind of
Mr. Garrack to befriend them.
“We are returning to London tomorrow, Yolanda, and I
never want to see Paris or meet a Frenchman ever again!”
She spoke bitterly and tears were back in her eyes.
“Don’t cry, Mama,” begged Yolanda. “You know Papa
hated you to be unhappy. I am sure wherever he is, he is
still looking after us and somehow everything will be all
right.”
She was trying as hard as she could to cheer up her
mother, who now replied,
“It does seem rather like a miracle that Mr. Garrack,
whom we have not known before, should appear just at this
moment and be so very very generous.
“I told him that I had pawned all my jewellery and the
only piece left was my engagement ring. I offered to give it
to him, but he would not take it.”
Yolanda was glad, as she knew that it would have
completely broken her mother’s heart to have parted with
the engagement ring that had meant so much to her.
Her parent’s marriage had been a love match. They
had been engaged for just a short time and her mother had
often said that she and her father had fallen in love with
each other at first sight.
“I knew, darling, the moment I saw him,” she said, “that
he was the most handsome, exciting and wonderful man I
had ever met.”
“I am not surprised, Mama.”
She had noticed that when her father came into a
room, the women all looked at him and she could easily
understand why her mother had fallen in love so quickly.
“I have heard Papa say,” she exclaimed, “that he
looked at you and lost his heart immediately.”
“We were so
very
happy,” her mother said and her
voice broke on the last word.
“I am sure it is Papa who sent Mr. Garrack to us at
exactly the right moment. When we get back to England, I
am sure we will find things are not as bad as we fear.”
As it happened it would have been a lot worse, except
that Mr. Garrack took them to his large and imposing house
in Park Lane.
He insisted on finding out if there was any money left in
her father’s bank account and if they were entitled to sell
anything from the family house and estate.
Mr. Garrack reassured the heartbroken Countess that
he was sure something had been overlooked and that they
had not been left totally penniless.
It was only after all the finances had been scrutinised
that he conceded that he had been mistaken – there really
was nothing left.
What was more, the income from the people renting
the Earl’s house and estate had already been given to the
bank against his large overdraft.
It was then, looking back, Yolanda realised that Mr.
Garrack had taken complete control of their lives.
He managed to persuade her mother that she should
for the time being stay with Yolanda at his house in Park
Lane.
“I could, of course,” he said, “quite easily buy you a
house anywhere you wanted, but I want to be with you, to
see you and to talk to you.”
He smiled before he added,
“It seems rather a waste of money when this large
house is full of empty rooms and I am a very lonely man!”
There was really nothing the Countess could do but
accept his kind offer.
It would have been untrue to say that both she and
Yolanda did not enjoy the comfort and luxury with which they
were now surrounded.
Because they were in mourning, Mr. Garrack at first
did not try to persuade them to meet other people.
But after quite a short time, he gradually began to bring
his friends home.
It was then that Yolanda began to notice that in many
ways he was not exactly a gentleman.
She did not say it, even quietly to herself, in those
particular words – it was just what she observed when she
compared him to her father.
What was more, she considered it embarrassing that
Mr. Garrack should be so obviously pleased and delighted
to have her mother as a guest.
Not only because of her beauty but also because of
her title.
There was something in the way he would say to
anyone who came to see them.
“Let me introduce you to the delightful
Countess of
Longwood
, who is staying with me, who is not only the most
beautiful woman in the world but also a very valued friend.”
He always accentuated her title.
“And also her daughter, Lady Yolanda Wood,” she
heard him say dozens of times.
Always he said her name with what she thought was a
pronounced accent on the word ‘
Lady
’.
*
After they had been in London for only a month, the
Season had come to an end and the majority of Socialites
left London for the country or Scotland.
They had been talking to two men who were going
grouse shooting and Yolanda asked her mother,
“Do you not think, Mama, it would be a good idea to
get in touch with some of your relations? I know they live in
the North, but I have not met any of them and it would be
very exciting if we went for a visit.”
The Countess was silent for a moment.
Yolanda knew she was considering what she should
answer and it made her wonder why she had not been told
anything about them before.
Finally her mother said,
“I suppose, darling, you had better know the truth.
When I married your father all my family were very angry.
They had arranged for me to marry a distinguished man,
rather older than I was. When I fell in love with your father,
they tried in every way they could to dissuade me from
marrying him.”
“But you insisted, Mama, and I am very glad that you
did!”
“Of course I insisted! But after we were married your
father found them so very disagreeable and unfriendly that
we came South and never went back.”
Yolanda gave a little cry.
“But, Mama, surely you miss your family.”
The Countess sighed.
“To be honest I was so very happy with your father, I
hardly ever gave them a thought. My father was never
friendly like Papa was with you and my mother was, I think,
not particularly fond of children – she had four and found
them all rather a bore. As I was the youngest I received the
least attention!”
“It is difficult for me to think of your family being like
that, Mama. You have always been so wonderful to me and
so was Papa. You never made me feel you did not want
me. Although perhaps sometimes I was a nuisance.”
The Countess laughed.
“You were never that, darling. We were thrilled to have
you but, of course, I ought to have given your Papa a son to
follow after him.”
She paused and then she added,
“I only realised yesterday that now your father is no
longer with us, the Earldom comes to an end. He had two
cousins who might have inherited the title, but they were
killed fighting with General Gordon at Khartoum.”
“I call it very sad, Mama, but what happens now to the
house and all the things which should have come to the next
Earl if there had been one?”
“Mr. Garrack is looking into that at the moment,” her
mother replied. “Of course even if we were allowed to go
on living there as there is no heir, we could not afford to do
so.”
“Have we really no money, Mama, except what Mr.
Garrack is giving us?” Yolanda asked her in a low voice.
Her mother shook her head.
“None, my darling, and I feel it is terrible for us to inflict
ourselves on him like this. At the same time he so adores
having us here and keeps saying what a difference we
have made to his life. I feel it is no use suggesting we go
somewhere else.”
Although it seemed wrong and ungrateful, Yolanda just
did not like Mr. Garrack.
There was something about him that made her feel
uncomfortable.
When he told her that he now looked on her as if she
was his daughter, she wanted to respond that she would
never be that in a million years.
Instead she just managed to say,
“That is so very kind of you.”
She thought from the expression in his eyes that he
knew quite well it was something she did not want.
*
It was a short while after this that he persuaded the
Countess that Yolanda should be better educated and
began making enquiries as to the best school for young
ladies in London.
He discovered that the best school for the daughters of
the aristocracy was in fact the Convent of Our Lady just
outside Paris.
A great many aristocrats sent their daughters there
and the pupils included the daughters of three Dukes.
The Mother Superior only accepted the girls from
France and other European countries if they came from the
grandest and most respected Society families.
In vain did Yolanda protest that she did not want to
leave her beloved mother or England and, almost before
she realised what was happening, she found herself sent
off to France.
A middle-aged woman who was one of Mr. Garrack’s
secretaries and a courier accompanied her on the journey.
When she reached the Convent, she found it rather
sparse, but the educational facilities were superb.
The girls were not only taught by nuns but by tutors who
came from every part of Europe.
It was easy to learn French and German, as well as
Spanish, Italian and Greek.
The music teachers were the best in Europe and this
pursuit of excellence applied to every other subject.
Because Yolanda was very intelligent, she enjoyed her
lessons enormously and her reports would have pleased
any parent.
Her mother was overjoyed by her progress.
“
I am so thankful, my darling
,” she wrote, “
that you
have settled in and are enjoying your lessons. It is what
your father would have wanted, though I doubt very much
if we would have been able to afford it
.
“
I am just exceedingly grateful to Mr. Garrack for
making this possible for you
.
He sends his love and says
the prizes he will give you at the end of term will be well
worth waiting for
.”
Yolanda told herself it was very good of him, but at the
same time for some unknown reason she had no wish to
accept anything more from him.
She resented being in such debt to him, although her
mother always spoke so enthusiastically about him.
Therefore it was not really such a shock when she was
told that when Mr. Garrack had asked her mother to be his
wife and that she had accepted.
She wrote to Yolanda,
“
I will never love anyone as I loved your dearest
father, but, darling, I have to think of you and the future.
You know as well as I do that we have no money, no
house and nowhere to go.
Mr. Garrack has been so kind that I feel it would be
most ungrateful if I did not try to make him as happy as I
can in return for all he has given us.
He says that he will treat you as if you were his own
daughter and you shall have the best of everything in life
.”
The Countess went on for a long time praising Mr.
Garrack’s kindness, explaining over and over again how
the only way she could show her gratitude was to do as he
wanted.
At the end of her letter she finished,
“
As you and I are both so aware, darling, there will
never be anyone like Papa, but I know he would want you
to be well educated and for us both to be secure.
Your loving Mama
.”
It was something that Yolanda could not contradict yet
she still wanted to.
*
The next time Yolanda saw her mother she was
saddened to see that she looked a little older.
She was clearly not as happy as she had been when
married to the Earl, but Yolanda had to admit she wanted
for nothing.
She had only to murmur her interest in some object
and no matter how expensive it was Mr. Garrack bought it
for her.
He was also very generous to Yolanda.
He bought her new clothes, a piano because she had
learnt to play rather well and what she wanted more than
anything else, a horse.
She rode it first in Hyde Park.
Then she learnt that Mr. Garrack had just purchased a
house in the country.
“He has not had one before,” her mother explained,
“because he has always been so busy.”
“What does he do, Mama?” Yolanda had asked. “I
have often wondered why he has so much money.”
“He has worked for it. He came from quite a poor
family, but he has worked himself up to being one of the
richest men in the country.”
“Is that really true?” questioned Yolanda.
“It is what he has told me, darling, and the way he
spends money on me makes me sure he is many times a
millionaire.”
No one could have more jewellery than her mother now
possessed.
She had several pearl necklaces, diamonds, sets of
sapphires and aquamarines.
Yolanda stared at them all in disbelief when they
emerged from the safe in her mother’s bedroom.
But no matter how much the precious trinkets glittered
she still harboured a strange feeling about Mr. Garrack that
she could not explain.
She just could not shake the feeling that he was not
really what he appeared to be.
‘How can I be so stupid?’ she asked herself. ‘Look
how kind he was at Christmas! And the presents he gave
me – a fur coat, a pearl necklace and more horses to ride.’
It seemed wrong and she felt ashamed of herself that
she did not like him.
However, as her mother seemed happy, that was all
that mattered.
By now her portrait had been painted, not once but
three times by different artists, as Mr. Garrack still claimed
that none of them had done her beauty justice.
His new house in the country was even bigger than the
one Yolanda’s father had inherited, but it did not have any
atmosphere of antiquity.
It was large, rich and cold and Yolanda thought that it
would be difficult to make it come to life.
From the moment she entered it she had wanted to
feel happy there and part of a family.
‘Maybe it will improve as the years go by,’ she told
herself.
But somehow she had no wish to stay there so long.
Now, without the warmth of her mother, she felt that the
house was almost repulsive.
*
Her stepfather had welcomed her back from France in
a friendly manner that made her feel ashamed of criticising
him.
And she still felt guilty for not feeling inwardly as
grateful as she pretended to be.
“I sent for you,” he said when she arrived, “because I
knew you were leaving at the end of term. I felt, as you
could not come to your mother’s funeral, you would like to
see her grave as soon as it was possible for you to do so.”
“That is very kind of you,” replied Yolanda warily.
She was aware her stepfather was inspecting her.
He had not seen her for nearly six months and now she
was over eighteen.
She was sensible enough to realise she had altered in
quite a number of ways.
Finally he commented,
“You are beautiful. Not as beautiful as your mother
was, but quite beautiful enough to turn the head of any
young man who looks at you.”
She did not reply, feeling very uncomfortable to be
spoken to in such a fashion.
It was as if he was expressing her value in cash and it
was somehow degrading.
“What I hope to do now that I have come home,” she
said eventually, “is to find something sensible to do.”
She was thinking as she spoke that she might work in
some capacity with a local charity, or perhaps she could be
interested in the running of an orphanage – one of the girls
at school had told her she had done so in her country and it
had been a great success.
To her surprise her stepfather laughed.
“There is no reason for you to look around for work,
Yolanda, I have something for you that I will tell you about
later. I am sure you will find it very interesting.”
Yolanda wondered what it could be.
She had the feeling that if it was something he had
chosen, it would not be what she really wanted.
*
Now standing quietly at her mother’s graveside she
was praying desperately that her mother would help her.
‘What am I to do with myself now that you are not
here?’ she asked. ‘I cannot just stay here in this house in
the country or in the one in London. It was different when
you were there and we could talk together. Even without
Papa we were happy.’
She gave a deep sigh before continuing to pray,
‘But, dearest Mama, this is going to be something very
different and I am frightened. Frightened of the future
without you and without anything that I can use my brains
and energy on.’
She looked up at the sky.
‘Please help me, Mama. I know you understand. I
need your help desperately and I need it quickly.’
Then because there seemed no answer, she felt the
tears come into her eyes and she wiped them away almost
roughly.
She knew it would upset her mother if she cried, but
she wept until it was impossible to do so any more.
However, she was intelligent enough to realise that she
now had to make more practical plans for the future.
What it reduced down to in a few words was that she
did not want to stay with her stepfather.
But where could she go?
What could she do?
There was no answer to either of these questions.
CHAPTER TWO
When she returned to the house, Yolanda went into the
sitting room, where she and her mother had always sat.
It all felt so familiar that as she walked in through the
door she almost believed her mother would be waiting for
her and look up with her usual smile.
Instead there was just emptiness and silence.
She moved over to the large writing desk, the one her
mother had always used, opened a drawer and found all
the letters she had written to her from France.
She remembered how proudly she had written of all
the exciting things she had done and learnt, knowing that
her mother would be interested and pleased for her.
She felt that in some esoteric way they were both
sharing the very extensive education she was receiving.
Sighing, Yolanda closed the drawer of the writing desk
and walked over to the window.
The garden outside was a mass of flowers with the
lawns emerald green and perfectly kept.
It was just another example of what money could do
and she could understand why her stepfather demanded
the best and insisted on having it.
‘He is so rich,’ she ruminated, ‘so rich! If Papa had
made only a little more money, he could have restored our
home and made it look like this establishment.’
She felt sure that her mother had often thought the
same thing. Watching day after day as Mr. Garrack poured
out endless sums of money, she must have thought of the
contrast between her new life and the life she had shared
with her beloved husband, when they had often been
desperate for just a few pounds.
Then very sensibly Yolanda told herself that it was no
use trying to live in the past – what she had to do was to live
in the present and make the best of it.
‘I do know, Mama,’ she sighed beneath her breath,
‘that is just what you would want me to do.’
The door of the sitting room opened and one of the
footmen entered,
“The Master asks, my Lady, if you would join him in the
study.”
“Yes, of course I will.”
Yolanda wondered again as she walked towards her
stepfather’s study what he was going to talk to her about.
He had said he had something for her to do and she
hoped it would be something really interesting as well as
something she was capable of doing.
At the same time it did seem strange that he was
thinking of her working, the moment she returned home
from the Convent.
The study was impressive and lavishly furnished.
There were some valuable pictures on the walls and
the ornaments on the mantelpiece and on the tables were
all museum pieces.
When Yolanda had first seen Mr. Garrack’s house, she
had been extremely impressed and surprised that he had
such good taste.
She learnt that it had actually been furnished by two of
the most experienced London decorators and all that Mr.
Garrack had to do was pay the bills.
He was sitting now at a very beautiful George IV
Regency mahogany writing desk.
Yolanda saw that there was a new picture over the
mantelpiece – it was a portrait of her mother and she knew
it had been painted by one of the great artists of the day.
She closed the door behind her and as she walked
towards her stepfather, she thought he was scrutinising her
in a rather strange manner.
“You wanted to see me, Step-papa.”
“Please sit down,” he asked, indicating a chair.
Yolanda did as she was told, but now she had her
back to her mother’s portrait.
Yet she tried to feel as if her mother was present and
helping her.
No doubt she would be telling her, as she had done so
often, that they must be very grateful for all the kindness
they had received from Mr. Garrack.
“You were saying just now,” her stepfather began, “that
you would like to have something to do. Well, I have a very
important job for you and I feel that you are bright enough
not to fail me.”
Yolanda was somewhat surprised at the way he was
speaking, but she replied as though prompted by her
mother.
“I hope I can do anything you require, Step-papa, but
first I must thank you for the excellent education I received
at the Convent. I am sure that, if you saw my reports, you
would be impressed by the number of different classes I
attended.”
“I am delighted you can speak so many languages,”
replied Mr. Garrack. “Also I did notice that your reports
were so good. You certainly worked hard.”
“I did my best and I can only say thank you again for
sending me to such a good school.”
“What I would like you to do now,” he said, “will require
intelligence more than knowledge.”
Yolanda waited wide-eyed and he continued,
“Tonight we will have a guest whose name is Jack
Harpole. He is, as indeed I am, interested in the many
industrial developments that have been taking place lately
not only in this country but all over the world.”
“I think Step-papa, you are talking about what they are
calling the ‘Industrial Revolution’.”
Her stepfather raised his eyebrows.
“Do you know about it? I would have thought that was
hardly the sort of lesson that would be given to such a pretty
young lady!”
“I do think the French girls, more than other pupils,
appreciate the large increase in trade that is currently
taking place in every country.”
Yolanda paused for a moment before she added,
“The nuns therefore taught us all about the Science of
Industry and mentioned the new industries that are being
founded in various different countries.”
“I am surprised, Yolanda, and equally very pleased.
You will then understand what I am asking you to do.”
“What is that?”
“You will have doubtless been taught that there has
been a great advance in the hulls of steamers.”
“You mean that they are now steel-hulled?”
“Yes, indeed. The first steel vessel to cross the
Atlantic was built in Liverpool in 1867. Now steel hulls are
becoming quite commonplace both in England and
America. In fact, the Royal Navy has built two fast despatch
vessels.”
“I did not think, Step-papa, that you would be so
interested in ships.”
Mr. Garrack laughed.
“I am interested in anything what makes money!
Undoubtedly at the moment every new ship being built will
have a steel hull and firms all over this country are
struggling to improve their steamers and all other types of
ship.
“Fortunately, we are well in advance of other countries
that will have to buy from us until they have learnt to make
their own.”
Yolanda thought that this was all most interesting, but
wondered how it concerned her.
There was another pause before he went on,
“My friend, who is coming here this evening, is very
anxious to buy one particular company that has built quite a
number of ships that are nearly finished. What I want to
know is what he is prepared to pay for them.”
“Have you asked him?” enquired Yolanda.
Her stepfather smiled.
“I don’t think you understand. I am also interested in
these ships and I am anxious that they should become
my
property, not my friend’s.”
Yolanda stared closely at him, because she still did not
fully comprehend what he was trying to say.
However, Mr. Garrack continued,
“Mr. Harpole does not know that I am also ready to
make a deal. He is staying with me because we are old
friends and he also wants my advice on several other firms
that have different products to sell.”
“But won’t he be upset if he finds out you are bidding
against him?”
“I think he will be very upset if I am successful! But I
see no need for him to know that I have succeeded where
he has failed before he returns to Canada, which is where
he is working at the moment.”
Yolanda gave a little laugh.
“It all sounds rather complicated! I only hope, Step-
papa, that you are successful and get the ships you want.”
“Well, that, of course, depends on
you
.”
“On me! How can it depend on
me
?”
“That is exactly what I am about to tell you.”
Yolanda looked at him in astonishment.
“When Mr. Harpole dines with us tonight, I shall give
him the very best wine from my cellar. Champagne, claret,
port and, of course, excellent liqueurs to follow a
magnificent meal.”
Yolanda thought that sounded like enough alcohol for
any man.
“When you leave the table as your mother always did
after the coffee, I want you to go upstairs and go to the
room where Mr. Harpole is sleeping. He is not bringing a
valet and the servants will all be downstairs by then.”
“But what do you want me to do?” Yolanda asked him
in a bewildered voice.
“Mr. Harpole will have with him a despatch case. It will
be left upstairs in his room and, of course, it will be locked.
I want you to open it – ”
“But how can I do that?” Yolanda interrupted.
“I know the make and I have an alternative key that I will
give you. Inside the case you will see a lot of notes and
letters. Because you are very intelligent I want you to
quickly look and find those which come from the Doxford
Shipyard.”
He repeated the firm’s name and continued,
“Make a note of what is in the letters as fast as you
can, particularly if there are any in his handwriting. I require
copies of those too. After you have done that, go straight to
bed as I rather suspect that Mr. Harpole will not be in a
condition for you to find his company very genial if you get
caught prying!”
As he finished speaking, Yolanda gave a gasp.
“What you are asking me to do, Step-papa, is to
spy
on your friend! It is something that no lady or gentleman for
that matter, would ever do.”
“What I am requesting,” he replied sharply, “is
business
. It is the type of business that takes place all over
the world every day. As I wish to make a larger bid for the
ships than Harpole, it will be convenient for me to know
what he has already offered. Also if they have refused or
accepted his offer.”
“Then you will offer more for them?”
“Of course I will.”
“But you must see that what you are suggesting is
cheating, Step-papa, and in a most underhand way too, as
this Mr. Harpole is supposedly your friend.”
“There is no need to preach to me,” he snapped.
“There is nothing wrong with what I am telling you to do, it is
just standard business practice. I had no idea you would
make such a silly fuss!”
He took a deep breath and then declared firmly,
“Mr. Harpole is not working for himself, but for an
American Company.”
He made a sound, which was almost a laugh.
“Harpole will receive a good rake-off from the deal – of
course, he will. And if I trusted him, which I don’t, I might
even suggest that we join hands on this particular purchase,
but I have no wish to be too closely connected with him.”
“I don’t think that his sharp practice makes what you
ask any better.”
Mr. Garrack sat back in his chair.
“Does it really matter what you do or don’t think? I
have requested that you undertake a straightforward job for
me. I feel certain that you can carry it out without making a
mistake or missing the items you are looking for.”
Yolanda sat upright and clenched her fingers.
“I cannot do it, Step-papa!”
“Why ever not?” he spat back angrily.
“Because, as I said, it is cheating. I feel sure that if you
asked Mr. Harpole in a straight manner exactly what he was
offering for these ships, he would tell you.”
He laughed and it was not a pretty sound.
“My dear child – how little you know of the world and
how extremely stupid you are! Of course Mr. Harpole would
give me a figure, but if you think it would be the true one,
then you must be even more foolish than I thought.”
“You mean that
he
would cheat
you
?”
“Of course he would cheat me. We are both men of
business and we know only too well the difficult world we
are working in.”
Yolanda did not speak and he went on,
“Then, having asked him point blank what his price is,
you can be sure that he would do everything in his power to
damage me. Thus I would find it difficult to approach the
firm at all because he would have already poisoned their
minds against me.”
Yolanda gave a little shiver.
“It all sounds unpleasant, underhand and illegal.”
“Officially there is nothing illegal about this,” her
stepfather retorted, “and what you have to do is very simple
and will not be known to anyone.”
He dropped his voice.
“Neither my secretary nor my attorney, who will be
travelling with me, will know when I go to see the ship
owners.”
“I am very sorry, Stepfather,” sighed Yolanda. “I know
that Mama would think it wrong.”
“Your mother, whom I adored, knew nothing about
business. And, as you well know, she would have done
anything to help and support me if I had asked her to do
so.”
This Yolanda could not deny, so she replied,
“It is something my father would never do because he
would consider it as bad as cheating at cards.”
“If your father had cheated a little, he would have been
a far richer man when he died!”
As Yolanda was silent, he said after a moment,
“Now stop talking nonsense. Here is the key to Mr.
Harpole’s despatch case.”
He took a key from a drawer on his desk and held it
out to her.
Yolanda shook her head.
“I am sorry, Step-papa, but I cannot do something that I
am sure would shock every respectable person I have ever
known. It would make me feel like I had committed an
unforgiveable sin.”
For a second Mr. Garrack just stared at her.
“If that is to be your attitude then, of course, I must
respect it. But I can only hope that you will find a situation
where you can express your principles without upsetting
anyone.”
His eyes flickered over her before he added,
“You are a very pretty girl and doubtless someone will
employ you just for your looks rather than your brains. But
in the meantime until you find a suitable position, you may
be somewhat uncomfortable and perhaps hungry.”
Now Yolanda understood what he was saying and she
gave a little gasp.
“Are you telling me, Step-papa, that if I do not do this
for you, you will turn me out and do nothing for me?”
“I have done a great deal for you already, Yolanda, as
you well know, but if you are not prepared to pay back in a
small way what I have spent on you, I see no reason why I
should spend any more.”
“But you know quite well that I have
no
money and
nowhere
to go!”
Mr. Garrack turned towards his writing desk.
“That is not my business, but I daresay your mother
would be most upset at your walking the streets without a
chaperone and with nowhere to lay your head.”
Yolanda gave a little cry.
“How can you be so unkind? You know how much it
would upset Mama!”
“It upsets me too,” he replied. “At the same time it is
impossible for us to live here together if you disapprove so
much of me and my methods. I think you are ungrateful and
in some ways offensive.”
Yolanda realised that he had won the battle.
So, in a small voice that he could hardly hear, she
murmured,
“Very well, Step-papa. You know that I am unable to
fight you, so you win. I will do what you tell me to do.”
“I thought you would see sense.”
He picked up the key he had put on the edge of his
desk and handed it to her.
Yolanda took it from him.
“Now there is no reason, Yolanda, for us to speak of
this again. You know what you have to do and we will
behave as if this conversation has never taken place.”
He rose from his desk.
“Actually I had a present for you on your return and I
think it is something you should come and see.”
“What is it, Step-papa?” Yolanda was forced to ask.
“It is an outstanding present, which I am told has Arab
blood in his veins and will require riding by someone who is
a good equestrian besides a lover of horses.”
Yolanda’s heart gave a leap.
“A new horse!” she exclaimed.
“A new stallion and it is a present from me to you.”
“You know how exciting that is for me and thank you
very much,” she forced the words out between tight lips.
She knew that she ought to kiss him, but could not
make herself do so.
Instead she asked quickly,
“Can we go and see him now?”
“That is what I thought we would do, so I have already
warned the stables to have him ready for you.”
Yolanda was aware that he had known before their
conversation started that he would be the winner.
He obviously recognised that he would afterwards
prove his magnanimity by giving her such a present.
How could she be anything but grateful when she loved
horses so much?
The one thing she had missed at the Convent was
being able to ride.
As they walked to the stables, she had the feeling that
she had sold her principles at an expensive price.
Because it was impossible to do anything else, she
talked at dinner about everything she could think of with the
exception of steel-hulled ships.
What she had to do tomorrow night kept her awake
long after she had gone to bed.
The more she thought it over in her mind, the more she
realised in her heart that there should be no question of her
complying with her stepfather’s wishes.
But how could she possibly face going out into the
world alone? She knew that it would be practically
impossible to find work with hardly a penny in her pocket
and no knowledge of London.
She had been only been in the City briefly, but what
she had seen had been the elegance of Hyde Park, the rich
and comfortable houses of her mother’s friends and the
luxury of her stepfather’s mansion.
She was not so stupid as to think any of that would be
of the slightest help – not if she actually had to earn her own
living.
Apart from that what could she do?
She had an excellent education, yet that was not to say
it would enable her to earn much on her own.
The most she could hope for was to become a
governess or a servant and even that would be unlikely, as
she had no experience.
It surely was a man’s world, she thought ruefully.
Women were not particularly necessary whilst it
seemed men were always in demand.
‘It is all so frightening,’ Yolanda brooded.
She was forced to be dependent on whoever would be
kind to her and at the moment that was her stepfather.
‘I have to obey him, Papa, even though I think he is
wrong and ungentlemanly,’ she murmured slowly.
Then she felt like crying.
However drastic their situation had been in the past,
her dear father had never done anything so underhand –
nor something he would think of as common and beneath
him.
*
All the next day Yolanda waited apprehensively for the
arrival of Mr. Harpole.
When he did arrive, he was such an unpleasant
looking man that she felt that it might be easier to cheat him
than if he had been handsome and charming.
Yolanda was sure that if it was a question of Mr.
Harpole deceiving her stepfather, he would not hesitate.
He was clearly impressed with the huge house and as
usual her stepfather introduced her in a way that made her
sound grander than she really was.
Because he would expect it, she put on a very pretty
gown for dinner, although she should be dressed in black
as she was still in mourning.
When she had first arrived back, she had asked her
stepfather if she could buy some black clothes.
She did not have any to wear on her journey home
from Paris, so she had chosen her plainest coat and taken
all the decorations from her hat.
Her stepfather, however, told her firmly,
“No mourning!”
“But it is correct for me to wear mourning because my
Mama is dead,” protested Yolanda.
“I am aware of that,” he replied. “But I do dislike black
and I want you to look attractive. You can wear as much
white as you like and, as you are a
debutante
now you have
left school, white is the correct colour for you.
“I am not having you walking about looking like a crow
and your mother would not it like either.”
Yolanda wanted to argue with him.
However, as they were in the country, she consoled
herself that, as they did not see anyone it would not matter
that much what colour she wore. She also knew that her
mother had always disliked black, complaining that it did
not flatter her complexion.
Although her mother had worn it when her father died,
she soon changed to mauve or wore black dresses with a
great deal of white trimming on them.
Whatever her opinion, Yolanda knew in her heart that
as usual it was impossible to disagree with her stepfather
as he would have to pay for anything she bought.
She therefore chose for dinner one of the gowns her
mother had sent to her whilst she had been at the Convent.
Putting it on, Yolanda remembered what her mother
had written at the time,
“
I was out shopping yesterday and saw such pretty
dresses in that shop in Bond Street where we bought
some
clothes before.
I am sending you two gowns, which I know you will
enjoy wearing.
They come to you, my darling, with all my love, but
you must write and thank your stepfather for buying them
.”
Yolanda looked mournfully at herself in the mirror,
seeing a sad looking girl in a very pretty expensive dress.
As she finished getting ready, she decided that it all came
down to the same thing in the end.
Those who had
money
could do what they wanted.
But those who had none had to do what they were told.
She slipped the key that her stepfather had given her
into her little evening bag and reluctantly went down the
stairs, pasting a smile on her face as went.
Both the men had changed into evening clothes.
Greeting them, Yolanda considered that Mr. Harpole
looked a little better in his than he had when he arrived.
But as dinner progressed she could not help thinking
how rough and common he was, despite his expensive
clothes.
He was obviously very clever and she listened to the
way he talked to her stepfather with something approaching
respect for his intellect.
There was no doubt that he had travelled and listening
to him recounting his business stories it was clear that he
was well versed in the new industries springing up all over
the world.
There was, however, no mention of ships.
Yolanda found it hard to concentrate, let alone enjoy
the food so carefully prepared by Mr. Garrack’s excellent
cook, as she thought apprehensively of what she had to do
when dinner was over.
By the time she left the dining room, Mr. Harpole had
drunk a great deal.
He was talking much more effusively than he had
previously and he began paying her one or two rather
uncomfortable compliments.
When she rose to leave ‘the gentlemen to their port’
Mr. Harpole had some difficulty in rising to his feet.
She walked quickly upstairs as her stepfather had
instructed her to do.
Mr. Harpole, as an honoured guest, had been put in
the same corridor as her own room, but on the other side.
Yolanda was relieved that there were no servants to be
seen.
Nervously she now opened the door of the bedroom
where Mr. Harpole was sleeping and it was a relief to find
that there were some lights left on.
His room was large, but it was not connected to a
boudoir, thus there was a writing desk in the bow window
overlooking the garden.
Yolanda saw that the despatch case her stepfather
had told her about was standing at the side of the desk.
She picked it up and put it down on a chair.
As her stepfather had anticipated, it was locked and
the key he had given her fitted perfectly.
She opened the case.
Inside, just as she had been told, were a number of
letters and three notebooks together with pens and pencils.
Because she was feeling so apprehensive, her hands
were trembling as she pulled out the papers – none of them
referred to ships, nor were they headed with the name of
the Doxford Shipyard.
She must have turned over a dozen letters and notes in
Mr Harpole’s hand.
Finally she found what she wanted.
She pulled a letter out of the case and going a little
nearer to the lamp burning on the writing desk, she read,
“
Sir
,
With reference to your recent offer of five hundred
thousand pounds for the ships we discussed at our
meeting
on the 29th April, I have now put forward your
offer to the
Committee of the Doxford Shipyard.
They have suggested you should visit them at your
earliest
convenience to discuss the matter more fully.
Yours truly, James Augment
.”
Quickly, as she was afraid she might be disturbed, she
scribbled down what she had read onto a small piece of
writing paper.
Then she shut and locked the case with the key and
put it back down beside the writing table.
Having taken the information her stepfather wanted,
she hurried across the room.
She only paused as she reached the door with the
sudden realisation that it would be a mistake for anyone to
see her coming out of Mr. Harpole’s bedroom.
To her great sense of relief the passage was empty.
She ran to her own bedroom on the other side of the
corridor, closed the door behind her and locked it.
She had done it
.
She had obeyed her stepfather and found what he
wanted.
She should imagine how angry he would have been if
she had failed to find anything – or even worse still, been
discovered rummaging in the case by Mr. Harpole or
anyone else.
She undressed.
Then before she climbed into bed, she stood at her
window looking up at the stars.
‘Are you very shocked, Papa?’ she asked the stars. ‘I
know you would have been horrified at being required to do
anything underhand and despicable.’
There was no answer, but she carried on,
‘I will try not to have to do anything like this again. I
have the frightening feeling that Stepfather will ask me to do
anything he wants and there is really little point in my
protesting.’
She was still looking up at the stars.
Then suddenly a shooting star sped across the sky.
There was a flash and it was gone.
She had the feeling it was somehow an answer from
her father telling her that he understood.
*
The next morning Mr. Harpole left early.
By the time Yolanda came downstairs for breakfast, he
had gone and she was thankful not to have seen him.
She then learnt from the butler that her stepfather had
breakfasted with him and had seen him off.
“The Master is in the study, my Lady, if you wish to see
him.”
Yolanda was wearing her riding habit, but she went
straight to the study knowing he would be expecting her.
He was at his desk and he looked up as she entered.
“Good morning, Yolanda. I very much hope you have
something for me.”
She did not answer, but walked to the desk and
handed over to him the piece of paper on which she had
copied the letter in Mr. Harpole’s case.
He took it from her, read it and then smiled.
“Thank you, Yolanda. You did that very well and I
commend you for bringing me exactly what I required.”
“How can you be sure,” she asked, “that the people
who own the ships will not ask Mr. Harpole to pay more and
he will still get what he wants?”
“That is an intelligent question, Yolanda, but at the
same time there is no reason for me to answer it. But you
can be quite sure I shall buy those ships and they will make
me a great deal of money.”
He regarded her closely with what she felt was an
unpleasant glint in his eyes.
“And, of course,
money
is what has been paid for the
horse you are to ride this morning.”
It was with difficulty that Yolanda managed to say,
“I am looking forward to it, Step-papa, and again thank
you very much.”
She left the study thinking how much she had always
disliked him, but how difficult it was not to be grateful.
At the stables she found the stallion he had given her
was outstanding and easily one of the best looking animals
she had ever seen.
She rode him into the paddock on the other side of the
stables knowing as she did so that it was, without a single
exception, the best horse she had ever mounted.
She took him around the paddock and over one or two
jumps.
Then she rode him into the woods – it was always in
the woods that she could feel free from the worries and
difficulties of the world outside, even when she was young
and they were living rather uncomfortably in her father’s
country house.
As far back as she could remember her parents had
always worried about money and could talk of little else.
It was then that Yolanda had realised that in the woods
lay a veritable Fairyland just waiting for her. Once there,
under the acid green canopy of the trees, she was lost in a
world of her own.
There were no frightened voices, no hidden tears and
no unpleasant anticipation. There was no talk of debts or
creditors chasing unpaid bills.
There was just the music of the birds and the soft
movement of the rabbits in the undergrowth. Yolanda was
certain that fairies were hiding in the blossom on the trees,
as well as flitting over the flowers round the pool in the
centre of the wood.
No one could spoil it and there was no unhappiness.
That is what she wanted to feel now and at the same
time she craved forgiveness.
She had played a part in something she knew in her
heart was wrong and in a way wicked.
It took her a long time to ride Chestnut, her new horse,
through the woods.
Then she galloped him over the fields and finally
returned to the house.
It was with an effort she made herself remember that
she was to have luncheon with her stepfather.
She decided that today would be a good time to find
out what he was planning for the future and she only hoped
that, whatever it was, it would not be in London.
In the City there would be visitors coming in for almost
every meal, afternoon tea to be taken and endless parties
and balls waiting for her in the evening.
She had no wish to be sociable in any way whilst in
mourning for her mother, but undoubtedly if it suited her
stepfather, she would not be able to refuse.
‘If I can only stay here,’ she thought, ‘at least I can think
about Mama in the woods and forget what I had to do last
night.’
When she reached the stables she realised that there
was just time for her to quickly change before luncheon.
So she ran into the house by the back door and went
up the back stairs to her bedroom.
Emily, her new lady’s maid, was waiting to help her
change into an afternoon gown.
It was a soft shade of blue and, although she thought it
morally wrong to be wearing such a light colour, she did not
protest.
Downstairs her stepfather was waiting for her in the
drawing room.
As she walked towards him, he pronounced,
“You look very nice, in fact, very beautiful. I am sure
that before too long we shall have quite a number of young
gentlemen waiting to tell you so.”
“I just had a wonderful ride on Chestnut, Step-papa,
and he is the best and finest horse I have ever ridden.”
“I thought you would think so. He cost me a lot of
money, but because you are so content, I don’t begrudge a
penny of it.”
“I am most grateful,” she managed to say again.
“So am I, so I think we can celebrate with a little
champagne for luncheon.”
They walked into the dining room and the butler held a
bottle of champagne ready for them.
Yolanda told her stepfather all about her ride and was
surprised to find that he was actually really interested.
When the servants had left the room having served the
coffee, he said,
“That reminds me, we have another friend of mine
coming here tonight for dinner. He’s not a very pleasant
man, in fact, I think you will dislike him.”
“Then why is he coming?” enquired Yolanda, amazed
that her stepfather should want to spend time with someone
he so openly despised.
“Business, my dear, business, which is far more
important than our personal feelings.”
Yolanda gave a sigh and then something struck her.
Was this going to be another ‘job’ as her stepfather
would say – another ‘job’ for
her
?
If so, how could she bear it?
CHAPTER THREE
Yolanda did not see her stepfather again until it was
teatime.
She had ridden again, this time on one of the other
horses, which was a particularly good jumper.
She sailed over all the jumps in the paddock.
Then she had a discussion with the Head Groom
asking him to put up some more difficult jumps.
“I’ll ’ave to ask the Master,” he said.
“Of course,” Yolanda replied. “But he did agree with
me that we need some more when I spoke with him over
luncheon.”
“I’ll get busy on ’em right away, my Lady.”
Yolanda took her horse over the same jumps again.
She could not help thinking it would be exciting if she
had someone to ride with her – someone young whom she
could race and compete with over the jumps.
Then she thought that she was asking too much.
It was just a miracle that she should have so many
wonderful horses to ride.
She knew her father would have loved to have them if
he could afford it, and it seemed sad that there were so
many horses in the stables and so few people to ride them.
At the same time all her stepfather’s friends might be
like Mr. Harpole and if they were, she had no wish to meet
them.
She was feeking a little apprehensive after what he
had said about the man who was coming this afternoon.
Several hours later Mr. Garrack came into the drawing
room for tea.
It was arranged in front of the sofa and he immediately
asked Yolanda,
“Did you have a good ride this afternoon?”
“It was fabulous, thank you, Step-papa. By the way, I
hope you don’t mind, but I told the Head Groom that you
agreed to some more jumps in the paddock.”
“No, of course not and you were quite right to do so. I
had forgotten all about it as a matter of fact, but when the
new horses arrive we must keep them well exercised.”
“I think that means that you will have to ride more
frequently than you do already,” suggested Yolanda.
“I am too busy to spare the time.”
“I am certain that Mama would say that you should take
more exercise than you do at the moment. She always
thought that you spent too much time at your desk and not
enough in the saddle.”
Her stepfather laughed as she meant him to do.
“I will follow your mother’s wishes – as I always have
and I will ride with you tomorrow morning.”
“Perhaps they will have some more jumps up by that
time,” Yolanda added optimistically.
She passed him various plates of food, but he shook
his head.
“If I take more exercise, as you suggest, I shall be able
to eat more. As it is I am getting fat.”
He was actually a very slim man.
Yolanda could not imagine that however much he ate,
he would put on much weight.
“I think you are exaggerating. Therefore as I cannot
eat all this tea myself, the chef will be disappointed if every
plate goes back untouched. We will have to buy a dog.”
Her stepfather laughed.
“I suppose the excuse that the dog has eaten the tea is
better than nothing. I have often thought that we lack dogs
here and I will see about it the next time I am in London.”
“That will be marvellous,” enthused Yolanda.
There was a slight pause and she looked at him
nervously.
“My friend, the one I told you about,” Mr. Garrack
began, “is called Cecil Watson. He is an uncouth man for
whom I have no liking, but he is an extremely astute
businessman.”
“If you do not like him, why do you have him down
here? Can you not see him at your office in London?”
“That is a very sensible question,” he replied, “and I will
tell you the answer. When I have people here they are
impressed, so I manage to manipulate them far better than
if I am sitting in an office which is what they expect.”
Yolanda could see his reasoning and nodded slightly.
She was aware that the house with all its beautiful
furnishings and stupendous pictures was certainly not to be
expected of the ordinary businessman.
Nor was the garden with its masses of flowers and
broad acres of land stretching out as far as the eye could
see.
After a moment she enquired,
“When the people who visit you are impressed, do you
obtain a far better bargain out of them than you would
otherwise?”
“Exactly, Yolanda, and Cecil Watson is what one might
call a ‘prime bargainer’ when it comes to business.”
There was silence and then Yolanda asked him in a
rather small voice,
“What do you want me to do?”
“Very much the same as you did the other night,” he
replied. “But actually you need not take any notes. Just look
quickly at what is written either on a letter or a notebook for
the name and address of the man he is negotiating with in
Germany.”
“In Germany!” exclaimed Yolanda.
“I know German is one of the lessons you had at the
Convent. Therefore it will not be too difficult for you to
remember it.”
“No, of course not. I can read German very well.”
“Watson is having a room with a boudoir, so it will
therefore be easier for you to find what I need than if you
had to go to his bedroom.”
Yolanda wanted to say that wherever she had to go, it
was unpleasant and something she hated having to do.
However, she realised that it was useless to ask her
stepfather to find out what he required in a different way.
“Now be a good girl,” he said, rising from the table,
“and I’ll try to think of an even better present for you than
Chestnut.”
He left the drawing room before she could reply.
She jumped up from the table and walked slowly to the
window.
She thought once again how degrading it was to be
paid for spying on his behalf – there was no other way to
put it.
She knew that both her father and mother would be
shocked at what she was doing.
But what was the alternative?
To try to find herself a job without the slightest idea of
how she could begin to do so?
She stood looking blindly at the trees, the flowers and
the fountain.
And then gradually their beauty seemed to seep into
her soul.
The feeling of revolt and disgust faded away.
‘Surely,’ she asked herself, ‘it is worth anything to stay
in a place as beautiful as this? Although I am shocked at
myself, no one will ever know that I am doing something
which puts me on a par with a pick-pocket!’
When she climbed upstairs to dress for dinner, Mr.
Watson had just arrived.
He was talking with her stepfather in his study.
She did not meet him and had no wish to.
She saw to her surprise he had brought his valet – a
strange servant she had never seen before was assisting
the footmen.
They were carrying Mr. Watson’s luggage into one of
the rooms in the same corridor where she slept.
She thought uncomfortably that now there was one
more person she would have to avoid.
She wondered if her stepfather was aware that Mr.
Watson had brought a valet with him – he might say that it
was too dangerous for her to go into the boudoir, where his
despatch case would obviously be placed.
It was then she remembered something.
Unlike the first job she had done, her stepfather had
not, this time, given her a key.
Yolanda wondered if he had omitted it.
Alternatively he might not have known till his guest
arrived what type of despatch case he would be using.
Then, almost as if she had spoken her thoughts out
loud, there was a knock on the door just as Emily was
helping her out of her gown.
Emily opened the door.
“I wish to speak with her Ladyship for a moment,”
Yolanda heard her stepfather say. “Please wait outside, I
shall not be long.”
He entered the room closing the door behind him, but
Yolanda did not move until he was close beside her.
Then he held out his hand and she saw there was a
key resting in his palm.
“This is what you will require,” he told her.
“He has brought a valet with him, Step-papa.”
“So I have just realised, but he will be sleeping on the
top floor with the other men servants. If he is hanging
around before Watson goes to bed, you will have to wait
until he is asleep.”
Yolanda stared at him.
When he was talking business, he spoke in a sharp
hard voice – very different to the way he spoke when he
was being pleasant and sociable. Before she could
protest, he added quickly,
“You will be quite safe in the boudoir. I will see to it that
he goes to bed and instantly falls asleep.”
Yolanda wanted to say that he had set her an
impossible task, but in her heart she knew the answer.
However, before she could say anything, he walked
across the room and pulled open the door.
“Don’t be late for dinner, Yolanda.”
Then as Emily came in, he had gone.
Yolanda recognised that even if she tried to protest, he
would not listen.
Quickly, Yolanda put the key away in the drawer.
Then she was silent as Emily helped her undress.
She climbed into her bath arranged as usual in front of
the fireplace. It was delightfully scented with the oil of white
violets that Yolanda always enjoyed.
But tonight she was feeling too anxious and afraid of
what she had to do later to relax and enjoy the warm,
scented water.
When she had finished dressing in a very pretty gown,
she walked to the window.
Looking out at the clear night sky, it seemed as though
the stars were coming out just to help her.
She wanted them to ease away her strong feelings of
resentment and fear, which were still with her, just like a
physical pain in her chest.
“You looks lovely, my Lady, and that’s the truth,” Emily
exclaimed behind her. “It seems a real pity there be no
handsome young men here as you could dance with.”
Yolanda laughed.
“I expect all the young men you are thinking about have
work to do or else they are in the Army and have no time to
visit the country.”
“Then you, my Lady, should be in London. There be
parties there every night and I expects all the
debutantes
as
they call ’em, who be your age are havin’ a good time.”
“I am really quite happy here with the horses.”
She thought, as she walked downstairs, how true that
sentiment was.
What she was not content about was meeting Mr.
Watson.
As the footman pulled open the door of the drawing
room for her, she could hear a voice, rather uneducated
and too loud.
Him
.
When she went in, her stepfather and his guest were
standing together at the far end of the room with a glass of
champagne in their hands.
“Well, I says to him,” Mr. Watson said as if he was
finishing a story, “that’s all you’re going to get and you’re
damned lucky to get that!”
Yolanda walked slowly towards them.
Her stepfather saw her.
“Oh, Cecil, here is my stepdaughter, Lady Yolanda
Wood, who I don’t think you have met.”
The man standing beside him turned round.
Yolanda saw, as she had already anticipated, that
Cecil Watson was undoubtedly a very ugly man with heavy
features and sharp eyes.
He was rather bigger than she had expected. In fact
he was far taller than her stepfather whom she had always
thought of as quite a large man.
They shook hands and she realised then that he was
undoubtedly an unpleasant character.
There was something about him that she not only
disliked but wanted to avoid.
“You didn’t tell me,” Mr. Watson was saying, “that I was
to have the pleasure and privilege of meeting anyone as
beautiful as this young lady tonight. Where have you been
hiding her?”
“She has just come back from Paris where she was
being educated,” explained Mr. Garrack.
Mr. Watson sniggered.
“That might be said of us too,” he blurted out.
“There’s always a lot to learn when you goes to Paris
and trust you, Oliver, not to miss the prettiest of them all!”
He dug his host in the ribs as he spoke and both men
guffawed with ribald laughter. Yolanda looked away in
hardly concealed disgust.
Next, the butler announced dinner and all three of them
walked into the dining room.
It was quite obvious from the way Mr. Watson ate and
drank that he intended to enjoy himself at his friend’s
expense.
In fact Yolanda had never seen any man drink so much
so quickly. A footman filled up his glass as soon as he put
it down.
Much of the men’s conversation contained innuendos.
Fortunately Yolanda did not understand – not that she
wanted to.
She thought that Cecil Watson was repulsive in his
appearance and in the way he spoke.
The over-familiar look in his eyes when he paid her a
compliment, which he did frequently, made her dislike him
even more.
She could not imagine her father, even if he knew a
man like this, bringing him home to meet her mother.
Equally she just supposed as her stepfather would say,
‘business is business.’
If it paid him to have Cecil Watson in his large and
beautiful house, the effort must be worthwhile.
The more Cecil Watson drank, the more he talked.
Yolanda hardly spoke a word all through the meal and
was thankful when it was finally time for her to leave the
gentlemen to their port.
Her stepfather rose as she did so.
Mr. Watson had great difficulty in standing up and only
after the third attempt was he finally on his feet, just as
Yolanda reached the door.
As she closed it behind her, she found herself hoping
that she would never again set eyes on anyone so
repulsive.
It struck her that it was quite obvious Mr. Watson would
not be going up to bed very shortly.
This, therefore, would be a good opportunity to go to
the boudoir and find the information that her stepfather
desired.
She reached the corridor in which her own bedroom
and that of Mr. Watson was situated.
As she did so, she saw his valet walk into his room.
He must have just come upstairs after eating in the
housekeeper’s room, where visiting servants always ate.
Yolanda wondered if the staff had found the valet as
unpleasant as she had found his Master.
One thing was quite obvious.
It would be impossible for her to go to the boudoir
while the valet was there.
So she rang for her lady’s maid and undressed.
“You’re up so early, my Lady,” Emily remarked as she
came into the bedroom.
“I am tired,” answered Yolanda, “and I thought it was
wise to come to bed.”
“Very wise, if your Ladyship asks
me
.”
The way she spoke made Yolanda aware that she was
disparaging the new arrival.
She thought, however, it would be a great mistake to
discuss him with the servant, so she merely talked about
the gown that was being altered for her.
When Emily left, she went to the window and stood for
a long time looking at the beauty outside.
The stars now filled the sky and a half-moon looked
very romantic.
It made Yolanda remember that her father had loved
looking at her mother by moonlight and he had often said
he would like a portrait of her painted in a silver dress.
“You would be the real Goddess of the Moon, my
darling!” Yolanda had heard him say.
“It is such a lovely idea,” her mother had replied. “At
the same time it is something we cannot afford.”
“Why was I not born an artist?” the Earl had asked.
“Then I could have painted you myself!”
“I have no wish to sit for hours so that someone can
paint me. And although it is so flattering to be named ‘the
Goddess of the Moon’, I would rather be the Goddess of
the Sun.”
“Which you are anyway,” her father had answered,
“and also for me – the Goddess of Love.”
“You are being greedy and using up half Olympus!” her
mother had protested.
Then they both laughed, as he kissed her, saying,
“To me you are more lovely than all the Goddesses put
together. In fact I have no wish to meet a Goddess, only to
have you, my glorious wife, and that means you belong to
no one else but me.”
It was the sort of thing they had so often said to each
other as they felt it did not matter that they expressed their
love in front of a child.
At school the girls talked endlessly about romance, but
Yolanda still found it difficult to think of anything else except
the delightful words her father had said to her mother – the
happiness they gave her was in her mother’s eyes.
‘It was bliss for them both to be together,’ Yolanda
thought now. ‘Why, oh why did Papa have to die in that
useless way?’
Life would never be the same without him, not for her
mother or for herself.
All the money in the world could not make up for the
love her mother had lost.
Yolanda knew without her saying so that she would
have thrown away the grand house.
She would have thrown away the comfort, luxury and
the glittering jewels just to be with her father, even if it
meant being in poor and uncomfortable lodgings.
‘That is real love,’ Yolanda had said to herself, ‘and
perhaps one day
I
will find it too.’
It did not seem to be very likely if the only men she was
to meet were the likes Jack Harpole and Cecil Watson!
She shuddered at the thought of how unpleasant Cecil
Watson was.
She was sure that many of the remarks she had not
understood at dinner were vulgar and obscene and should
never have been uttered in front of a lady.
She felt a little cold after standing by the window
wearing only her nightgown.
Her lady’s maid had departed, having blown out the
candles before she did so with the exception of the small
candelabra, which stood by Yolanda’s bed.
She climbed into bed and tried to read a book – it was
one she had found extremely interesting.
But it was impossible not to keep listening.
She was straining to hear the man coming upstairs.
She wondered how soon after Mr. Watson had gone to
bed, she would be able to go into the boudoir.
She was in fact feeling rather tired and she would have
liked to have gone to sleep.
Instead, she kept reading her book just in case she
dozed off and would wake up to find it was morning.
Then at last she heard a loud voice in the distance.
She knew that Mr. Watson was now coming up the stairs,
very likely with the help of her stepfather and he was
certainly making a lot of noise about it.
His voice seemed to be echoing round the walls of
Yolanda’s bedroom.
He passed her door.
Now she could hear her stepfather’s voice speaking in
a somewhat soothing tone – as if he was trying to make
Cecil Watson walk more steadily.
Then at last Yolanda heard them go into his room on
the other side of the corridor.
A few minutes later her stepfather went to his room at
the far end of the corridor.
Yolanda realised that his valet would be waiting up for
him, so she listened for when he passed her door.
As he did so, he was speaking in a muffled voice to
someone beside him and when a man answered, she knew
that Cecil Watson’s valet had joined him.
Now there was complete silence.
Still Yolanda waited breathlessly as she wanted to
make quite certain that there was no question of the valet
returning or Mr. Watson not being asleep.
Half an hour must have passed.
Finally she concluded that if she did not go into the
boudoir now, she would fall asleep.
She climbed out of bed as quietly as possible and
opened the drawer of her dressing table where she had put
the key.
Then, very cautiously, she opened her bedroom door.
As she expected, the lights in the passage had been
dimmed, but every third sconce still held a lighted candle.
Her stepfather was already planning to have gaslight
installed in the house, but it entailed a great deal of
disruption.
Therefore he had decided that he would not have it
introduced until he was staying in London for a long time.
Yolanda actually preferred candles and loved eating in
the dining room by candlelight.
Now in her feet bare, because she thought it would be
quieter, she tiptoed down the passage holding a candle.
Very cautiously she opened the door into the boudoir
attached to Mr. Watson’s bedroom.
As she anticipated the lights had been turned out.
Her candle would provide her with enough light to see
what she was looking for.
When she entered the boudoir, it seemed dark and
gloomy with the curtains pulled over the windows.
So she lit another candle from her own and placed
both of them side by side on the writing desk.
Her stepfather had been right.
He had said that the despatch case that Mr. Watson
had brought with him would have been put either on or by
the desk.
It was in fact lying on top of a blotter and Yolanda
thought that would make it easier to open.
She bent to insert the key into the lock hoping there
would be no difficulties.
She found it turned quite easily.
As she opened the hood of the case, she thought that
her stepfather must have a collection of keys – perhaps he
had one for every well-known make of despatch case.
He could therefore pry into the correspondence of
every guest who stayed with him. It certainly made things
easier to obtain whatever information he wanted.
It seemed such an extraordinary way to behave and it
was something Yolanda had never heard of before.
Now the case was open and she could see that there
were a large number of papers inside it.
There were so many that she thought it would take a
long time to find what she wanted.
She picked up a handful of papers.
Suddenly the door behind her was flung open.
Yolanda turned round terrified.
Mr. Watson was standing there with the light from his
bedroom behind him.
He was wearing only a silk nightshirt.
For a moment he stared at her and then he asked in a
thick voice,
“What do you want? What are you doing here?”
Yolanda moved forward so that he should not see the
open case behind her.
“I just – came in,” she stammered in a frightened voice,
“to see that you have – everything you – want.”
“Everything I want? I thought that was what I had,” he
slurred in a drunken tone. “Now I see you, I know
you
are
what I want!”
As he spoke, he lurched forward towards her.
Realising what he had implied, Yolanda turned to run
away.
But she was too late.
With unexpected swiftness Mr. Watson caught hold of
her arm.
He pulled her against his chest.
“You’re pretty, so damned pretty!” he slurred at her
hoarsely. “I was thinking over dinner that I could do with you
and now you’ve come to me – that’s just what I want!”
“Let me go!” Yolanda cried out. “
Let me go!
”
She tried to struggle against him, but he was very large
and she was very small.
Her struggles were having no effect on him and his
arms held her completely captive.
Then she realised that he was trying to kiss her and
she thrashed her head feverishly from side to side.
“Let me go!” she begged, but he laughed.
“You’re what I’ve been wanting,” he gurgled, “but I
didn’t know it till now. Lucky, that’s what I am, always lucky
and what can be luckier than to have you.”
He was pulling her, as he spoke, out of the boudoir
and into his bedroom.
Yolanda realised that he was taking her towards his
bed.
She gave a scream of sheer horror.
“Let me go!
Let me go
!”
Now she was beating her fists against his chest.
But he merely laughed and it was a discordant and
unpleasant laugh.
Then he muttered,
“Do you think that I’d let go of something the Gods
have sent me? Now do stop being so coy and we’ll enjoy
ourselves.”
By this time he had dragged Yolanda to the bed and
she knew that he was going to push her down onto it.
She struggled wildly.
As he was so unsteady, she thought for a moment that
she could force herself free of him.
Then, with what seemed to be a superhuman effort, he
pushed her back onto the bed.
She screamed and screamed.
He threw himself violently on top of her and for a
moment he almost made it impossible for her to breathe.
Then she felt him tearing at her dressing gown.
She screamed and screamed again.
She heard her nightgown tear and felt him pulling it
away from her neck.
It was then that the door of the bedroom burst open.
“What the devil is going on in here?” she heard her
stepfather demand furiously.
Yolanda howled again.
Mr. Garrack quickly realised what was happening.
In two strides he reached the bed and pulled Cecil
Watson off Yolanda’s body.
As Watson tried to struggle, he hit him hard on the jaw
and he fell to the ground.
Mr. Garrack then picked up Yolanda who was still
screaming.
“It’s all right, Yolanda, it’s all right, you are safe. He will
not hurt you now.”
She was shaking all over.
Because she was so obviously incapable of standing,
her stepfather carried her out of the room into the corridor.
Now she was crying helplessly like a child who had
been hurt.
As he walked with her towards her room, he said
soothingly,
“It’s all over. He has not hurt you and I will see he does
not come near you again.”
It was impossible for Yolanda to answer.
He had to put her down for a moment as he opened
her bedroom door.
She was in a state of shock and would have fallen to
the ground if he had not held her up with one arm.
When the door was open, Mr. Garrack had to pick her
up again as he realised she was incapable of walking.
He laid her down on her own bed and in the light of the
little candelabra he could see the tears running down her
cheeks, streaming from her closed eyes.
He also saw how the top part of her dressing gown
had been torn away from her neck.
He was, however, more concerned by her face than
anything else.
She was deadly pale and her body was shaking.
He sat down beside the bed holding both her hands in
his.
“It’s all right!” he told her gently. “It’s all right and
something that will
never
happen again! Can I fetch you
something to drink?”
Yolanda gave a gasp and then opened her eyes.
“
Save me
! Oh, please do save me!” she called out
desperately, her voice rising as she spoke. “Save me!”
“I have saved you,” her stepfather insisted. “You are
perfectly safe now and I promise you he shall not come
near you again. It’s all over.”
Yolanda clutched hold of his hand.
“He is
horrible
– beastly,” she muttered in a voice that
did not sound like her own.
“I know that, but you have to be sensible and realise
that he is drunk and you are a very pretty girl. He was not
thinking about who you are, just that you were a woman and
in his room.”
His words seemed to reach her for the first time.
After a moment Yolanda opened her eyes, still holding
frantically on to his hands.
“I am so – frightened,” she managed to stammer.
“I know you are, Yolanda, but now there is just no need.
I want you to go to sleep and forget all about what has
happened.”
“He is so disgusting – and so repulsive! I could not
fight him, he was too strong!”
“I know that, but I expect by the morning he will forget
what he has done. He had more than enough drink to
make him unconscious – or so I thought.”
Now there was an angry note in his voice. He had
thought when he brought Cecil Watson up to bed, he was
too drunk to do anything but fall asleep.
He had been mistaken and now he was furious with
himself that this drama should have occurred.
Very gently he released his hands from Yolanda’s.
Then he rearranged the bed so that he could pull the
bedclothes over her.
She was still wearing her blue dressing gown and he
thought it best for her to sleep in it, as she should not move
about more than was absolutely necessary.
Now she was quieter, but he noticed that her body was
still trembling.
Although she had opened her eyes, she kept closing
them – it was as if she was terrified of what she might see.
Mr. Garrack pushed her hair back very gently from her
forehead.
“Now will you be all right if I leave you alone to sleep?
Or would you rather I asked someone to come and stay
with you? It will have to be one of the maids.”
“
No
! No! I don’t want anyone! But you will not let him
come near me again?”
“No, of course not, Yolanda, I tell you what I will do. I will
leave you, but I will lock you in. Then tomorrow morning
before the maid wakens you, I will come and open the
door.”
“You will – lock my – door,” Yolanda repeated slowly.
She was forcing herself to fully understand what he
would do.
“I will lock the door and I will take the key away, so no
one can come near you. Is that what you want?”
“Yes! Yes! Then I shall be safe!”
“You will be safe,” he said firmly. “But, just in case you
are still scared, I will leave the door of my room open. If you
scream loudly I shall hear you.”
“I will try to go to sleep,” Yolanda promised with an
effort.
“That is most sensible of you and everything will seem
better in the morning. Now, don’t be frightened any more
because there is no need for it.”
He rose to his feet.
Then he pondered for a moment, walked over to the
window and pulled back the curtains so that the moonlight
could pour in.
Yolanda could see the stars from her bed.
“That will give you a little light. Now, would you like me
to leave the candles or blow them out?”
“You are quite sure that the door will be locked?”
Yolanda repeated in an agitated voice.
“Shut and locked.”
“Then please blow out the candles and I will look at the
stars.”
“I want you to close your eyes and go to sleep. I am so
very sorry that this has happened and you will have to
forgive me.”
He did not wait for her to answer.
He walked across the room and opened the door.
“Goodnight, Yolanda. Remember you are safe.”
He went out and she heard the key turn in the lock.
Then she hid her face in the pillow and burst into tears.
CHAPTER FOUR
“How is Lady Yolanda?” Mr. Garrack asked of his
housekeeper.
“She’s very poorly, sir. She won’t get up, but just lies in
bed staring at the ceiling.”
“Do you think she is really ill?”
The housekeeper shook her head.
“I don’t know what it is, sir. I talks to Emily who’s her
lady’s maid and she says something about her Ladyship
going back to a Convent where she’s been abroad.”
Mr. Garrack’s lips tightened.
He was silent for a moment and then he said,
“Tell her Ladyship that I wish to see her at twelve
o’clock and it is very important.”
“I’ll tell her, sir.”
When he was by himself in his study, Mr. Garrack sat
for some minutes thinking.
Over his long career he had coped with all types of
different men and invariably, even though at times it was
difficult, he always got his own way.
He recognised that Yolanda was still suffering from
shock, even though her encounter with Cecil Watson was
now over three days ago.
She had not come out of her bedroom since.
She had merely sent messages to say that she was
tired and was resting.
Now from what the housekeeper had just told him, Mr.
Garrack thought that he must do something, although he
was not certain what it should be.
It was exactly twelve o’clock when the door of his study
opened and Yolanda entered.
As she walked towards him, he could see that she was
looking very pale and there were lines under her eyes which
had not been there before.
When she reached him, she said jerkily,
“You wanted – to see me – Step-papa?”
“Yes, Yolanda, sit down, I want to talk to you.”
She sat down on the edge of a chair by his desk and
looked at him apprehensively.
Then she began,
“I have something I want to say to – ”
Mr. Garrack quickly put up his hand.
“I think I must speak first, because I asked you to come
to me.”
“Yes, of course,” responded Yolanda in a dull and flat
voice.
“I have been thinking about your father, Yolanda. I
admired him greatly, because he was undoubtedly a very
brave man.”
When he mentioned her father, Yolanda looked up in
surprise.
Her eyes were on him as he continued,
“I think at the moment he would be very distressed and
maybe humiliated if he thought that his only child was a
coward.”
Yolanda stiffened.
“
A coward
?” she repeated almost under her breath.
“Your father’s bravery in fighting a duel he knew he
would lose was, to say the least of it, heroic. He could
easily have refused and left Paris for England.
“But he was brave enough to fight against a man who
would undoubtedly beat him, because it would have been
absolutely wrong and against his idea of honour for him to
have run away.”
Yolanda did not say anything.
Her fingers were clenched together and she looked at
her stepfather with a startled expression in her eyes.
“As you know,” Mr. Garrack went on, “I have dealt with
thousands of problems in my life and I have only got where I
am today by standing up and fighting for what I wanted.”
His voice dropped as he added,
“I have not told you about the beginning of my life, as I
do not like to talk about it, but I was actually a very unhappy
child.”
He looked towards the window as if he was looking
back into the past.
“My parents were of no particular importance and, as
they had three other children, they did not want me. I was
the youngest. I remember how I resented being treated as
if I was of little account and made to give my brothers
preference in everything.”
There was a distinct bitterness in his voice that told
Yolanda without him saying more how he had suffered.
“I think that I must have been around ten or eleven
years old when I decided that the only way I could actually
defeat my brothers was if I was cleverer than they were.
“I cannot think who put the idea into my head, but I
worked hard at school until, at the end of term, I actually
received a prize. That made me determined to have at
least a dozen of them. I not only gained many prizes but I
won a scholarship.”
“That was indeed – clever,” remarked Yolanda.
She seemed to force the words through her lips.
Her stepfather thought that as she had spoken it was
perhaps a step in the right direction.
“I went on to University and because I worked by day
and night, I was awarded a First and a final report of which
anyone would have been proud.”
He realised that Yolanda was now listening intently so
he continued,
“I next offered my best services to a factory in the
neighbourhood and, based on my excellent reports from the
University, they engaged me.”
“And what did your family think?”
“They were most surprised, but my elder brothers still
laughed at me. I was paid only a small salary for the job I
had undertaken. Quite frankly they thought I was a fool to
work so hard.”
“And then what happened?”
“I moved to a larger firm and from them to another. I
soon learnt all each company had to teach me and thought I
could do better.
“Of course, I had many setbacks. Of course, people
snubbed me for being too grasping and too pushy. I made
quite a large number of enemies, but I also had friends who
were really kind and understanding.”
“Did your enemies upset you?”
“When they opposed me, I fought back, although I did
not win every battle, I, at least, showed them I had guts,
which in those days were admired in a man of my station.
“I had to lick some people’s boots. I had to put up with
a certain degree of humiliation and from one job I was
sacked for impertinence.”
He gave a little laugh.
“Actually I was telling the owner of a factory how to run
it much better than he was doing at the time. As he knew
that I was right and he was wrong, he wanted to be rid of
me!”
“So what did you do?”
“I went to the firm which was his greatest rival and
offered the manager my services.”
There was silence before Yolanda enquired,
“Did you tell him how badly the firm you had left was
run?”
“Of course I did. I also gave him some information
about what the owner was doing that he found useful.”
He knew without asking that Yolanda thought this was
wrong, so he added,
“As I have said to you before ‘
business is business
’. In
the fight to rise to the top there is not a man in this world
who has not used every weapon in his power to get there.”
Yolanda did not speak and her stepfather continued,
“I know what you are thinking. What I have done your
father would think was unsporting and unbecoming of a
gentleman. But if you think of it not as what happens in a
gentleman’s soft life, but in the war of survival which is
‘below stairs’ so to speak, then you will understand.”
“What you are saying,” Yolanda replied slowly, “is that
it is a battle and the man who is not with you is against you
as an enemy.”
“Exactly. I see you understand. That is what I am trying
to make you appreciate. In everyone’s life, sooner or later,
things happen, which are not what you expect because they
don’t keep to the written rules of what we now call ‘Social
behaviour’.”
He threw up his hands.
“That is the world in which the aristocrats and the
upper class live where they have made unwritten laws that
they obey, because it makes them, they believe, superior to
those beneath them.”
Yolanda thought this statement over for a moment.
“I can see, Step-papa, what you are trying to say.”
“I am trying to say that sooner or later in our lives we all
come up against great difficulties and that is where we
have to fight with every nerve in our bodies to survive.
“I know that your father came up against so many
difficulties in his life at one time or another. He somehow
surmounted them and was still able to keep his own code
of behaviour intact.
“But that is not to say that those against him kept to the
same rules. They cheated if they could and they were
prepared to be treacherous in every possible way without
worrying, as your father would have done, as to whether
what they did was becoming of a gentleman.
“What I am trying to explain to you is, whatever
happened, however bad it was, however disgracefully
those against your father behaved, he went on fighting even
if it meant his death.”
He looked at Yolanda as he spoke and after a long
moment, she remarked,
“That is what you are telling
me
to do.”
“What I am really saying, is that you have won a battle
against a man who is a cad and a swine. Now that you
have done so, be magnanimous and forget him. He is of
no importance and it is just what your father would have
done.
“It was an unpleasant episode in your life, but now
Watson can only win if you continue to brood about him and
destroy your future happiness by doing so.”
Yolanda rose and walked to the window.
She stood there looking out into the garden.
After a long pause, she murmured,
“He terrified me.”
“Of course, he terrified you.
“But it was my fault in asking you to help me and I can
only say how sorry I am. At the same time you must realise
that you and I are making Watson seem of far more
importance than he really is in the world, because we are
thinking and talking about him.”
“I will try
not
to think about him again.”
“Good!” her stepfather exclaimed. “Now let me tell you
what we are going to do. We are going to London!”
Yolanda turned round.
“Why?” she enquired.
“Because I have business there for one thing and also I
would like you to be in touch with your mother’s and father’s
friends. It is what your mother would have wanted you to do
and I admit I was quite wrong to bring you here to the
country while the Season was still taking place.”
“But I am in mourning – ”
Her stepfather looked at her.
“Do you really begrudge your mother being with your
father whom she adored?”
Yolanda stared at him in a startled way.
She thought it was a strange remark for him to make.
“I know what you are thinking, Yolanda, and I do know
how very much your mother loved your father and he loved
her. And I knew I could never take your father’s place, so I
did not try to do so.”
Yolanda was still staring at him.
“It was the greatest moment of my life when your
mother permitted me to look after her and comfort her a
little. It is something I shall never forget and because I loved
her, I want to believe that she is happy now.”
He spoke so movingly that Yolanda found it hard to
realise that it was actually her stepfather speaking.
“What you and I have to do now is exactly what your
mother would want you to do. That is to go back to London
and to be in contact with those who loved her and your
father and spend the last month of the Season with them.”
He smiled before he added,
“I am not going to give a spectacular ball for you – that
can easily wait till the winter. But we can hold dinner
parties and dances in my house in Park Lane and I am sure
that you will receive a great number of invitations.”
Yolanda was gazing at him as if she could not take in
what he was saying.
He held out his hand.
“Come along, Yolanda, we both know that we want
your mother to be happy and have exactly what she wants,
just as we tried to give it to her when she was with us.”
She bent forward and took his hand.
As she did so, for the first time ever, she placed her
arms round her stepfather’s neck and kissed his cheek.
His arms closed round her and he realised that she
was crying.
“It is all right,” he soothed. “Everything is all right. We
now understand each other and we will do what your mother
wants.”
“How can you be so kind, so understanding? I have
been feeling so alone and so scared, but now I feel I have
you
.”
“Of course you have me, Yolanda, and together we will
win our battle.”
She wiped her eyes.
Then Mr. Garrack suggested,
“Let’s have a glass of champagne because we both
need it. Then after luncheon we will go riding. I think you
will agree that we should take Chestnut and the new horses
which we have yet to name, to London with us.”
Yolanda smiled at him.
“They too will want their London Season!”
*
At luncheon her stepfather set out to amuse her.
He told her stories of things that had happened to him
when he was abroad and spoke of new projects he had
invested in which had proved disastrous.
Because she asked him, he told her with pride about
some business deals that had been a huge success and
had eventually made him a multi-millionaire.
As soon as luncheon was finished the horses were
brought round to the front of the house from the stables.
They rode together first into the paddock and then to
look at the new jumps, which had been erected while
Yolanda was lying in bed.
They rode over the broad acres of his estate.
“You must be very proud of all this,” she exclaimed.
“It is what I always told myself I would have one day – a
house bigger and better than anyone else’s. It was blessed
when your mother came to stay and she was even more
beautiful than any of the pictures on my walls.”
“I meant to talk to you about your pictures.”
The horses were now walking side by side and the sun
was shining on Yolanda’s golden hair.
She was not wearing a hat as there was no one to see
her except her stepfather – it was the way she had enjoyed
riding with her father.
“Why do you buy so many expensive and famous
pictures?” Yolanda asked him.
“First because I enjoy looking at them and secondly
because I know it will impress the people I want to
impress.”
She liked his response because he was so frank.
“Have they come to see them?”
“Quite a number came while your mother was here.
That is what I am hoping you will do now you have taken
your mother’s place.”
Yolanda looked a little puzzled and he explained,
“We shall entertain the right people who will know a
masterpiece when they see one and who perhaps have
one or two in their own homes. I promise you that I have no
intention of wasting their beauty on those who don’t
appreciate them!”
Yolanda knew what he was telling her – he would not in
future ask men like Cecil Watson to stay with them in the
country.
She did not respond to his comment so instead she
gave him a smile, which made her, for an instant, look very
much like her mother.
“We are going to enjoy ourselves, although I know it is
only a question of time before you will fall in love and leave
me.”
“I will never leave you completely, Step-papa. It is what
I very stupidly thought I might do, but I promise you I shall not
contemplate it again.”
“We will make this house a very happy one,” he told
her quietly, “just as when people stayed with us when your
mother was alive, they always went away feeling very happy
and different to when they arrived. As one woman said to
me, ‘it has been Heaven this weekend being with you two
wonderful people. Please, please ask me again’.”
Yolanda’s eyes softened as she listened.
“It is a very nice idea, Step-papa, and that is what we
will do. I know it would please Mama.”
“I know that too and I am certain she will help us.”
*
That night when Yolanda went to bed, she thought how
stupid she had been.
She had not attempted to understand her stepfather
before now.
She had actively disliked him and been snobbish
enough to believe that he was rather common and beneath
her.
Now when he had told her frankly of his struggles and
difficulties to reach right to the top, she realised it was
something he had always done alone and without love.
Until he had found her mother.
Yolanda was now thinking of just how much she had
meant to him – she could hear it every time he spoke of
her.
The sincerity in his voice and the expression of love in
his eyes was very moving.
‘We were so incredibly lucky that he was so kind to us,’
she said to herself. ‘And it was most ungrateful and stupid
of me not to understand.’
She was now determined to make it up to him.
When she said goodnight, once again she put her arm
round his neck and kissed him affectionately.
It was the way she had kissed her father.
She knew her stepfather understood without words
what she was saying to him.
When they went upstairs, she slipped her hand into his.
“It is really so exciting to be going back to London,
Step-papa. But you will help me?”
He realised that she was asking him to keep away
from her any man who might frighten her.
His fingers tightened over hers.
“I am always here for you, Yolanda, and I shall be
extremely careful whom you meet. Let’s at first keep to
your mother’s friends. I know some of them already, who I
met when you were away in France and I am sure that if I
appeal to them, they will welcome you with open arms.”
When they reached Yolanda’s bedroom, they kissed
again.
Then Mr. Garrack went to his own room.
Yolanda found that the housemaids had packed all her
gowns and the trunks were now standing in her room
waiting for any last item before they were locked.
She thought as she looked at them that this was the
beginning of a new adventure.
It was what her father had often said when they had
moved from a place they could not afford, and sometimes it
was because the people there were wary of playing cards
with him because he won so much from them.
‘
A new adventure
!’
She breathed the words to herself.
Then she felt that her mother was somehow smiling at
her and telling her that was what it would indeed be.
‘Perhaps,’ mused Yolanda, ‘I shall find someone as
attractive as my Papa and that will be the most wonderful
adventure of all.’
Yet somehow she felt it unlikely.
The men she had met in the very brief time she had
been in London had seemed so young and immature. They
were not intelligent, but in fact rather stupid.
However, she was sensible enough to realise why they
had disappointed her.
She had always spent time with older men, like her
father and his many friends, and now it was the same with
her stepfather.
Even when she had disliked him, it was impossible not
to be very impressed by his brain – and impressed by the
interesting comments he made about his work.
‘Maybe,’ she pondered, ‘I shall find all young men are
boring and dull because they have not lived exciting and
adventurous lives as Papa and Step-papa have lived.’
It was indeed a rather depressing thought, but then she
told herself firmly that in this new adventure anything could
happen.
The unexpected was always round the corner.
‘What I am going to do, Mama,’ she whispered as she
lay alone in the darkness, ‘is to try to enjoy myself as I know
you would want me to and it will please Step-papa.’
She was beginning to realise now why her mother had
undoubtedly been fond of Oliver Garrack, even though she
had given her heart and soul to her first husband.
‘I was very foolish not to realise that, although he is
different in so many ways to my Papa, he is an extremely
interesting man and a most intelligent one.
‘It meant everything to her when she was so bereft,
lonely and totally penniless to have someone in her life who
literally worshipped her.’
Above all else he wanted her mother to be happy.
‘I must try to understand people better than I have done
in the past,’ Yolanda told herself, ‘and not judge men as I
have been doing because they do not resemble Papa.’
When she mulled it all over, she concluded that her
mother had always found something nice to say about
everybody – however different they were and whatever their
position in life, she was always complimentary.
As she fell asleep, Yolanda was thinking that she must
try to make her stepfather happy.
She had never even thought of worrying about his
feelings before, but now she realised how much he must be
missing her mother.
Perhaps in his own way he was trying to ease his
unhappiness at losing her by working even harder, and that
was the real reason why he had brought Mr. Watson down
to the country.
Without, of course, imagining for a moment that he
would behave as he had to her.
She was quite certain that never again would her
stepfather invite her to help him as he had done over Mr.
Harpole and then Mr. Watson.
It was very wrong in the first place and even worse,
because he had embroiled her in his nefarious schemes.
He had not considered her as an attractive young
woman or even as his stepdaughter.
He was thinking only of the money he could make.
Money, which must fill his life completely now that he
had lost her mother.
His beautiful wife had been, as he always claimed, the
best and most wonderful thing to ever happen to him.
‘I understand! I
do
understand!’ she whispered.
Then because it was impossible to go on ruminating
any more, she fell asleep.
*
The next morning Yolanda was awake bright and early
and after breakfast a carriage was waiting for them outside
the front door.
As they drove away, Yolanda thought the country had
never looked more beautiful and it seemed almost a crime
to leave it for the City of London.
The servants were following them in a large brake with
their luggage and besides her stepfather’s valet there were
two footmen and Emily.
Emily had begged Yolanda to ask the housekeeper if
she could accompany her to London, and, as she was very
attentive and a nice girl, Yolanda had done what she asked.
“Of course you can have her if you wants her, my
Lady,” the housekeeper said. “But make sure she comes
with you when you returns or we’ll be short-handed here.”
As the house seemed to boast an array of servants,
Yolanda thought this was a little unlikely.
However, she promised that Emily would return when
she did.
“We’ll all miss you, that we shall,” the housekeeper
went on. “But I’m sure the Master’ll be bringing down his
friends and you, my Lady, must bring yours. It’s nice to
have a house full and the chef says he’ll get fat and lazy if
there ain’t no one to cook for!”
Yolanda laughed, but she thought it a good idea and
told her stepfather what the housekeeper had said.
“You are reading my thoughts!” he exclaimed. “I have
every intention of having friends at the weekends, but first
you and I have to decide who we will invite.”
“You think of everything!” smiled Yolanda.
“I try to,” he answered. “It’s most important to plan
ahead and not leave everything until the last moment. You
know as well as I do that can be disastrous and all that
happens is that everything of any importance is left behind.
You will find yourself with the people you don’t want, while
those you do have made other arrangements!”
Yolanda laughed.
“You must be careful not to let that happen, Step-papa,
and I am sure London is going to be very exciting. At least,
as Papa would say, it is something new and that is always
an adventure.”
They stopped on the way for luncheon at a posting inn
and when they set off again, Yolanda knew the horses had
been well rested and that the servants had also enjoyed a
good luncheon.
Her Papa had always been most particular that they
should look after their staff, when they had any.
He had often become angry when he had heard that
mean people neglected those who served them and
allowed them to be housed in damp rooms and fed badly,
while the gentry were enjoying the best of everything.
“I learnt as a soldier,” he told his daughter, “that a good
Officer looks after those he is commanding before he
thinks about himself. That is what I have always done in my
private life and I shall expect you to do the same when you
are grown-up.”
“Of course, Papa” Yolanda had replied.
But it was something she thought she would never
encounter – she would be with her father and then perhaps
with her husband.
As they approached London, she could not help but
wonder if her stepfather was now hoping that she would
soon be married.
She was certain that the subject had already crossed
his mind and that was why he had insisted on her attending
dances and receptions in the country, even though she was
still in mourning.
She only hoped that the people who had invited her
would not be shocked.
She felt sure that she should not be amusing herself so
soon after her mother’s death.
They arrived at the enormous house in Park Lane.
Yolanda thought that without the sunshine and the
country surroundings they had left behind, it was all rather
gloomy.
However, once she was inside she was impressed
with the magnificent way it was furnished and by the many
pictures on the walls.
That night after they had finished dinner together, Mr.
Garrack told Yolanda the names of the people he had
written to.
“They are all your mother’s friends, but I daresay you
can remember some more.”
“I will try,” replied Yolanda, “but this is a long list and I
think, if everyone on it asks me to a party, I shall very likely
be here until Christmas!”
Her stepfather laughed.
“It’s not as bad as that. But I shall feel very sad if you
sit at home night after night like Cinderella with only your
decrepit old stepfather to talk to!”
“I have a feeling that if you come to the parties with me,
Step-papa, you will dance more than I will and be far more
successful with the ladies than I can ever be with the
gentlemen!”
“Now you are being ultra modest. Let me prophesy
that you are going to be the most beautiful
debutante
of the
Season. Tomorrow before we do anything else the shops
are coming to us.”
Yolanda knew exactly what this meant.
When she had last been briefly in London, her
stepfather had sent to the shops in Bond Street and they
had brought an enormous number of gowns to the house.
At the time Yolanda had thought that it was a rather
grand way to shop, but certainly much more comfortable
than traipsing from shop to shop.
The vendeuse, with two assistants, had arrived at the
Park Lane house with what seemed like a mountain of
boxes.
Once they had shown their wares to Mr. Garrack, he
had decided which ones he wanted Yolanda to try on and
she had chosen from them.
She presumed the same procedure would happen
again, so was delighted when he said,
“I think you are sensible enough now to know what you
want and what your dear mother would prefer you to wear.
So I will leave it to you. Just tell them to send me the bill.”
“You are so kind, Step-papa.”
Mr. Garrack put his hand on her shoulder.
“Everything I can give you is a thanksgiving for the
happiness your mother gave me. It is just something that
cannot be paid back in words, clothes, jewels or anything
else. But if I am able to make you happy, that will be the
only payment I require.”
‘How can he be so generous?’ she asked herself.
She knew the answer.
What she had felt about him before had been her own
fault, because she had not dug deep enough into his
character – nor had she ever been close enough to him to
understand his feelings.
She had disliked him because she thought he was
pushy – and, if she was really honest with herself, because
he had taken her father’s place.
She had never thought of him as someone who could
be hurt or upset, nor as a person who could love anyone in
the way that he had loved her mother.
Now she understood and felt ashamed of herself.
‘If I am to be happy,’ she determined, ‘then I have to
find some way to make him happy too.’
She spent the morning, as he had arranged, trying on
dress after dress and gown after gown.
Looking through the lovely shades of silk and fine
muslin, she realised that she really did need to restock her
wardrobe. Fashions had changed so much in the time she
had been away and it was impossible not to feel excited by
the beautiful array of garments laid out before her.
She had gone to the Convent with such a large number
of clothes that the other girls had teased her.
But except for what her mother had sent to her and the
few dresses Mr. Garrack had bought last time, she had not
had anything new since before going to Paris.
The vendeuse told her that she looked beautiful in
everything she tried on, which was not very helpful, and she
wished that her mother could be there to help and advise.
Finally, after much deliberation she chose four day
dresses and five evening gowns.
Next, she chose from beautiful handmade shoes and
dainty boots, embroidered underclothes, fine stockings
and, of course, hats of every shape and size.
Each shop that specialised in these items had brought
enough for a bride’s trousseau.
The thought made Yolanda shudder – and she tried
hard not to think of Cecil Watson again, as she had
promised her stepfather.
*
That night he took her to dine with an old friend of her
mother’s who he also knew well.
As they entered the drawing room, Yolanda could see
that there were six young men present beside her host and
hostess and their daughters.
Suddenly she felt a sense of fear and it made her want
to turn round and run away.
Then she told herself she was being very stupid.
How could she be frightened of these young men who
were all gentlemen?
They would never behave like Cecil Watson!
Yet still the horror she had felt when he had thrown
himself on top of her was present once again.
Then her hostess was saying very charmingly,
“It is so lovely to see you, Yolanda. Your mother was
such a dear friend of mine and I am so anxious for you to
meet my family.”
She introduced first her daughters, then two of the
young men who were her sons.
As they took her hand, Yolanda wanted to snatch it
away and it was with the greatest difficulty she prevented
herself from doing so.
‘I am being so stupid, foolish and idiotic!’ she told
herself angrily.
Yet when they went into dinner she disliked putting her
hand onto the arm of the hostess’s eldest son who was
escorting her.
But it was his father, who said to her,
“You are the prettiest girl I have seen for a long time. I
cannot think why you have been hiding away from us for so
long!”
It was difficult for Yolanda to look at him.
“We have been in the country,” she murmured.
“Well, now you must make up for it by being the belle of
the ball at every party,” he said, “and undoubtedly all the
critics in White’s will be lifting their glasses to you!”
The mere idea of it made Yolanda shiver.
Then she saw her stepfather watching her from the
other side of the table.
With an effort she forced herself to smile and knew that
was what he wanted her to do.
‘I am
not
frightened. I am not frightened,’ she repeated
silently to herself.
She was well aware that this was an inward battle that
she must face alone without being a coward.
CHAPTER FIVE
Two weeks later everything was different.
Yolanda had won her battle.
She no longer shuddered when a young man put his
arm around her waist to dance and she could now accept a
compliment without feeling shy.
She was an undoubted success.
Hostesses, who had paid no attention to her at first, fell
over themselves to invite her to parties.
Everyone was talking about her.
As her stepfather had so astutely predicted, she was
undoubtedly ‘the belle of the ball’.
There was only one somewhat unfortunate incident
during the first week.
She had gone to a rather bigger dance than she had
attended before and there was a garden at the back of the
house.
She danced twice, or perhaps it was three times, with
a young man who had interested her.
He had been in the Royal Navy and was telling her
about the recent modern improvements that had been
made to the ship in which he was serving.
It was very warm and when the dance finished, they
went into the garden to sit under a tree where it was cool.
Mr. Garrack was sitting in the drawing room when
Yolanda came running up to him.
“
I want to go home
,” she told him breathlessly.
He looked at her in surprise.
Then without asking her any questions, he replied,
“Of course, Yolanda, if that is what you want.”
She hurried down the stairs in front of him and they
waited without speaking until their carriage was brought to
the door.
Only when they drove off, did Mr. Garrack ask,
“What has happened? What has upset you?”
For a moment he thought Yolanda was not going to
reply and then she murmured,
“The man I was dancing with asked me to marry him.”
There was a short pause, before he commented,
“Yolanda, I suppose you realise that is the greatest
compliment you can be paid
and
the most expensive one.”
He paused to smile at her before continuing,
“After all, the gentleman in question is taking you ‘
for
better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, until death do
us
part
’. By that time you may be sightless, toothless and
extremely irritable. No man could offer you more!”
For a moment there was silence and then Yolanda
began to laugh.
As her stepfather laughed too, she moved closer to
him and put her head on his shoulder.
“You are quite right, Step-papa. I am a fool, but he
took me by surprise, so I ran away.”
“He will certainly not think you are running after
him
,”
Mr. Garrack remarked dryly.
Yolanda laughed again.
“I just don’t know why I am so stupid, but I am no longer
as frightened as I was.”
“I do realise that, Yolanda, but I think that now you are
such an overwhelming success, you will think as I do that it
is silly to worry about anything in the past. After all what is
done is done and cannot be altered. It is
tomorrow
that is
important.”
“Of course it is,” agreed Yolanda, “and you must
forgive me for behaving so badly.”
“It was getting late anyway and as I have to be in my
office early tomorrow morning, I am actually delighted to be
going home to bed.”
Yolanda knew that he was making things easier for
her.
When they arrived back at his house, she kissed him
affectionately.
“I am so sorry I behaved so stupidly,” she told him.
“Forget it, Yolanda, I think tomorrow may be very
exciting for you.”
He made it exciting by giving her an attractive and very
expensive present.
He knew only too well that he was spoiling her.
Because Yolanda was such a social success, she and
her stepfather were invited to endless parties given by the
most exclusive hostesses.
They would certainly not have been invited to them in
the past.
In her new dresses for the daytime, as well as new
gowns for the evening, she recognised that her stepfather
was proud of her.
*
At the end of the third week, he said to her casually,
“Oh, by the way, Yolanda, we are travelling to the
country for the weekend.”
Yolanda’s eyes lit up.
“To the country! How wonderful!”
“There are several new horses for you to see and there
are three pictures I have just bought that I think will interest
you.”
“Why did you not tell me before?” asked Yolanda. “You
knew I would be thrilled.”
“I could not go to the sale myself, but my secretary did
well and brought back a Van Dyck, which I am sure will
delight you, as well as two more by Stubbs.”
Yolanda clapped her hands together.
“Oh, Step-papa, that
is
exciting. You know I love the
Stubbs you have already and I did think it was a pity there
were not more horses inside the house when there are so
many outside!”
Her stepfather chuckled.
“I hope you will approve of my new purchases and they
will certainly add lustre to my collection.”
“You have many fine pictures here in London.”
“They are the first purchases I ever made and to be
quite honest I could have done better.”
“Some of them are very lovely,” argued Yolanda.
“But nothing as fine as those in the country. I took a
great deal of trouble to learn much more about art than I
knew before – and I had a good teacher.”
Yolanda smiled at this reference to her mother.
She thought it impossible not to admire a man who
could work so hard – not only at making money but also on
improving his own brain.
She was just going to ask more questions about the
pictures when he added,
“We are entertaining a guest this weekend and he is
coming to see my Stubbs. I also want to know a little more
about his interests in America and the automatic air brakes
that have been invented for trains.”
Yolanda looked at him wide-eyed.
“I am hoping that you and I will be clever enough to
make him talk about it. His name, by the way, is Lord
Milborne.”
He was about to say more when his secretary came
into the room.
“I am sorry to bother you, sir,” he said, “but there is a
man here from the country who wishes to talk to you about
the gas lighting you ordered for the servants’ quarters. I
understand there is some difficulty regarding the roof.”
“I will come and speak to him.”
He left the room.
When he had gone, Yolanda stood where he had left
her, thinking over what he had just said.
She knew Lord Milborne.
He was the gentleman who had been exceedingly kind
to her father when they were living in Baden-Baden.
Her father was having one of his bad periods at the
gaming tables and his luck seemed to have deserted him.
They had arrived in Baden-Baden after he had been
gambling very successfully in Hamburg and they had taken
rooms in the
Stephanie Hotel
, which was undoubtedly the
best and the most famous of all the many sumptuous hotels
in the town.
Baden-Baden itself was beautiful and Yolanda, who
was then only fourteen, was thrilled with the stream running
through it and the gardens filled with flowers and blossom.
She, of course, was not allowed to enter the Casino,
but she was well aware how important it was in their lives.
The first night her father had won and they were all
laughing and happy the next morning.
He took her mother and her to the races. He won
again and Yolanda spent an exciting time with her parents
before she was sent to bed.
The next morning was totally different.
Her father had apparently had a disastrous evening at
the Casino and her mother was trying to console him by
saying that things would be better today.
Unfortunately things were not better that day or the next
and by the third day her father was completely broke.
They were sitting out in the garden of the
Stephanie
Hotel
wondering what they should do next.
How, her father asked over and over again, could he
pay for the rooms in the hotel?
Lord Milborne then passed by and greeted them.
He was a very good-looking man, Yolanda thought,
perhaps a little older than her father.
It seemed they knew each other well – they both
belonged to White’s Club in London.
Lord Milborne exclaimed when he saw the Earl and his
family,
“I was looking for you, Longwood. I hear you had a
bad day yesterday! If you are intending to go to the races
this afternoon I have a winner for you!”
He rose and walked towards Lord Milborne.
“I have a sad story to tell you,” he began.
“I believe that I can guess what it is,” replied Lord
Milborne.
As he spoke, the two men turned and walked away
along the side of the stream.
As they did so, Yolanda’s mother put out her hand and
laid it on her daughter’s.
“I am praying,” she whispered, “that Lord Milborne will
help Papa. Otherwise, dearest we are in a terrible fix.”
An hour passed before Yolanda saw that her father
was coming back to them.
By the way he walked and the smile on his face she
knew that all was well.
He came to where they were sitting and bent down to
kiss her mother before he said,
“Everything is all right, my darling. Your prayers are
answered and we will not be thrown out of the hotel or be
forced to walk home.”
“Lord Milborne has helped you?”
“He has been very generous and what is more, he has
given me the winner of the big race this afternoon.”
The horse had indeed won and they then spent two
very happy weeks in Baden-Baden before moving on.
It was Lord Milborne who had rescued them, but
Yolanda had not thought of him since.
Yet she realised now that she could not allow her
stepfather to outwit him as she suspected he wanted to.
She had heard several people talking at the dinner
table about the new automatic air brakes. Everyone
thought they would prevent the accidents, which kept
occurring on the railways.
The Stockton and Darlington railway was designed in
1825 to carry coal from the mines to the waterways and it
had proved immensely successful.
In the following years England was covered with a vast
railway network and soon other countries in Europe began
to build their own railway systems.
There were many unfortunate accidents because it
was easy to start a train, but difficult to stop it.
Several men working on manual handbrakes had to be
co-ordinated, but if this procedure failed, a dangerous
accident was likely.
Now there was talk about a Mr. Westinghouse in
America who had developed an automatic air brake, which
was being adopted by a number of American railways.
Yolanda realised from the look on her stepfather’s face
and the many questions he asked when the air brake was
being discussed that he was interested in the product.
And it meant that he would want to buy it before
anyone else in England could.
Yolanda was not concerned – it did not matter to her
from whom he obtained the air brakes.
But she was aware that she could not permit him to
trick Lord Milborne, who had saved her father, her mother
and herself from disaster.
‘I have no wish to hurt Step-papa,’ she determined.
‘But at the same time he has so much. Perhaps Lord
Milborne needs a helping hand now, just as Papa needed
one all those years ago in Baden-Baden.’
*
That afternoon she had arranged for some fittings in
Bond Street and afterwards she asked the coachman to
take her to Grosvenor Square.
She believed that her stepfather’s secretary would
keep a list of the people he knew and where they lived.
So she looked at the book on his desk while he was at
luncheon and found, just as she had expected, Lord
Milborne’s address listed – Milborne House, Number 93
Grosvenor Square.
She and the maid who accompanied her drove there
from the shop in Bond Street.
Yolanda felt that she was being somewhat disloyal to
her stepfather, but at the same time it was honourable to try
to pay back some of the huge debt her father owed Lord
Milborne.
Grosvenor Square was indeed the largest and most
impressive square in London and yet to Yolanda it seemed
somehow overpowering.
When the carriage drew up by an important-looking
house, it was with difficulty that she prevented herself from
instructing the coachman to drive on.
Then she remembered the smile on her father’s face
when he had come back from his walk with Lord Milborne
in Baden-Baden, and how he had bent to kiss her mother
before he told her the good news.
‘I am sure,’ she pondered, ‘this is what Papa would
want me to do.’
The first footman on the carriage rang the bell of
Number 93, the butler opened the front door and Yolanda
stepped out.
“I would like to see Lord Milborne,” she asked.
“Is his Lordship expecting you, madam?” the butler
enquired.
“No,” she replied. “But will you please inform him that
Lady Yolanda Wood wishes to speak with him.”
The butler was obviously impressed by her title, so
instead of asking her to wait, he took her across a high-
ceilinged hall and opened a door on the other side of it.
He announced Yolanda in a stentorian voice as she
entered what she guessed was a study or a library.
There were many books everywhere, a fine painting by
Stubbs hung over the mantelpiece and two big French
windows opened on to a walled garden at the back.
For a second Yolanda thought there was no one in the
room and then a man rose from behind a writing desk.
The butler closed the door behind her.
As the man walked towards her, Yolanda stared at him
in surprise.
He was not the Lord Milborne she remembered, but a
young gentleman, tall and good-looking.
He reached her and held out his hand.
“I am delighted to meet you, Lady Yolanda. I have
heard a great deal about you.”
“But you are
not
Lord Milborne!”
The young gentleman smiled.
“You were expecting to meet my father who I know was
a friend of yours. I am afraid, however, that he died two
years ago.”
“Oh, I am so sorry!” exclaimed Yolanda. “I met him a
long time ago in Baden-Baden, when he was so very kind
to my father and my mother and we were all extremely
grateful to him.”
“That sounds so like my father,” he replied. “And, as
you have been kind enough to come to see me, I expect
you know that I am staying with you this weekend to see the
new pictures your stepfather has just bought.”
“Yes, he has told me about them. Though I have yet to
see them, I am sure that they are magnificent.”
“I have a few Stubbs myself and I am very proud of
them. I only wish I had known the others were for sale. I
would have obtained them before your stepfather managed
to do so!”
Before Yolanda could reply, he asked,
“Can I offer you any refreshment?”
“No, thank you, my Lord. I came to say something to
your father without letting my stepfather know what I was
doing. I am not sure now what I should do – ”
She sounded indecisive and Lord Milborne said,
“I can understand your surprise at finding my father is
no longer here. But please allow me to take his place. If
there is any way I can help you or answer any questions you
would have put to him, I am at your service.”
Yolanda seated herself on a sofa by the fireplace and
Lord Milborne stood with his back to it.
Then, as if he felt it would seem friendlier, he sat down
on the sofa beside her.
“What is worrying you, Lady Yolanda? Everyone went
to my father with their troubles, so I have a feeling that is
why you have come to me.”
Yolanda drew in her breath.
“Actually, my Lord, you may think it surprising, but I
want to repay in a small way the wonderful kindness your
father showed us when we were in Baden-Baden.”
“What did he do?”
Yolanda looked away from him and a little shyly she
answered,
“I expect you know that my father was a gambler?”
Lord Milborne smiled at her.
“I think everyone knew he was the most charming and
the most delightful gambler there has ever been. The story
of his life really ought to be in a book.”
Yolanda gave a little laugh.
“I have never thought of that idea before.”
“It is something you should consider. I am certain that
you could write it better than anyone else.”
Yolanda did not reply and he continued,
“I met your father several times when he was riding in
the Park, at many Racecourses and when I first proudly
became a Member of White’s. I thought he was the most
charming, the most handsome and the most delightful man I
had ever met.”
Yolanda’s eyes now lit up as she clasped her hands
together.
“Thank you for saying that. It is the way I want people
to remember my Papa – not to remember him when things
went wrong.”
She hesitated for a moment and then she added,
“It was when things went so very wrong in Baden-
Baden that your father saved Papa at a time when we were
desperate. He not only lent him money, which I am not sure
was ever repaid but he gave Papa the winner of the big
race which he attended that afternoon.”
“That sounds very much like him. Of course I am very
proud of him and I am trying to follow his example. So
please allow me to take his place and tell me why you are
here.”
It was difficult for Yolanda to find the right words.
“I expect you know how rich my stepfather is and that
he has made every penny of his fortune himself.”
“I have heard the stories and how can anyone not
admire him for what he has achieved?”
“He has been so very kind to me and I could never be
grateful enough for what he did for Mama and me after
Papa died.”
Again there was a pause before she went on,
“I know in business men do not always behave in the
same manner as your father and my father would have
behaved.”
“I understand what you are trying to say to me.”
“You may think,” said Yolanda, “that I am being very
disloyal, but because your father was so kind when we
were desperate, I just wanted to warn him when he came to
stay that my stepfather is most interested in the automatic
air brake invented by Mr. Westinghouse and which is now
being used so successfully in America.”
What she was saying came hesitatingly to an end.
She looked up appealingly at Lord Milborne as if she
was begging him to understand what she was trying to say.
He smiled at her appreciatively.
“I think it is very brave of you, Lady Yolanda, to come
and tell my father what you have just outlined. I do
understand perfectly your reason for doing so.”
Yolanda gave a sigh of relief.
“My stepfather, because he is so rich and so astute,
invariably gets what he wants, and he has heard that you
too are interested in the air brakes.”
“I am indeed and I am grateful to you for thinking of my
father and now myself in that connection.”
Yolanda rose to her feet.
“Please, my Lord – you will not tell my stepfather I have
been here?”
“No, of course not. It is a secret between you and me
and I thank you for thinking of my father. I know that he
would have been so grateful and appreciative at what you
have been brave enough to do.”
“Then we shall meet on Friday evening, my Lord, and I
think we will both enjoy seeing Step-papa’s Stubbs.”
“You can be quite certain,” added Lord Milborne, “I will
be grinding my teeth with envy because he beat me to the
sale. I have been abroad, which is the reason why I was not
aware it was taking place.”
“I feel sure you will have better luck next time.”
She held out her hand as Lord Milborne asked,
“I suppose you don’t have time to see a Stubbs I have
in another room? I also have a very beautiful Titian in which,
as it depicts the Goddess Venus, you should be particularly
interested.”
Yolanda realised he was paying her a compliment.
“I would love to see it if you have the time.”
Lord Milborne escorted her into the drawing room,
which was beautifully furnished and Yolanda thought that it
had an atmosphere of having been lived in.
The superb Titian painting of ‘
Venus and Adonis
’ was
hanging on one wall.
And there was the particularly fine Stubbs over the
mantelpiece – however in his picture there were no horses,
but two cheetahs he had painted brilliantly.
“Your pictures are very lovely,” Yolanda sighed as she
walked from one to the other. “How lucky you are to own
anything so perfect.”
“That is just what I think myself,” Lord Milborne replied,
“and it is why I want to add to my collection. I have other
pictures, which I would like you to see, but they are in my
country house. Perhaps you will come and stay there one
day?”
“I would love to,” enthused Yolanda. “I remember
Mama telling me how lovely your house is after she had
been there with Papa.”
“I think they stayed. I don’t recall meeting your mother,
but I have heard how beautiful she was and that you are
very like her.”
His dark brown eyes gazed at her tenderly.
“I only hope that is true.”
They walked out of the drawing room and down the
stairs and Yolanda admired a Hogarth in the hall.
“I don’t care much for that picture,” Lord Milborne told
her. “But the one I would like you to see is ‘
The
Holy
Family
’ painted by Rubens, which I think is one of the best
pictures he ever did.”
By now they had reached the front door and one of the
footmen was opening it.
Lord Milborne took Yolanda across the pavement and
when they reached the carriage, she turned to him,
“Thank you, my Lord, you have been very kind.”
“That is just what I should be saying to you, Lady
Yolanda, and I will say it to you again on Friday.”
He saw her glance at him quickly, so he added in a
voice that the footman holding the door could not hear –
“When we are alone.”
Yolanda smiled and climbed into the carriage.
Lord Milborne did not go back into his house until she
had driven away.
As the carriage drove into Park Lane, Yolanda felt a
little guilty and yet she knew she had done what her father
would think was the right thing.
Lord Milborne’s father had saved them from being
humiliated at being unable to pay their bill and her father
might have had to face Police charges, which would have
caused a dreadful scandal.
‘There was nothing else I could do but warn Lord
Milborne,’ mused Yolanda quietly to herself.
At the same time she felt rather apprehensive.
Her stepfather might ask what she had been doing
besides shopping and she had no wish to lie to him.
It would, however, be most embarrassing to admit that
she had been to visit Milborne House.
Fortunately they were dining out that evening.
Therefore Yolanda did not meet her stepfather until she
came downstairs wearing a new and attractive gown.
It was one of her dresses that he had not yet seen, so
she took off the wrap and showed him how pretty it was.
“You look lovely, my dearest,” he said, “and I am very
proud to be your escort tonight. Incidentally I expect you will
remember that we are dining with Lord Stratford de
Redcliffe in Grosvenor Square?”
Yolanda drew in her breath.
She knew that they were dining with some friends of
her stepfather’s and there was to be dancing afterwards,
but she had no idea it was to be in Grosvenor Square.
She only hoped that their host had not recognised the
carriage if he had seen it outside Milborne House.
In which case it would be very difficult for her to explain
why she had been there.
They were driven to Grosvenor Square.
Yolanda then saw that Lord Stratford de Redcliffe’s
grand house was situated on the opposite side of the
square to Lord Milborne’s.
It was quite a large party with over thirty people for
dinner and several others joining them afterwards.
The ballroom was fairly small and, as it was a hot
evening, the dancers walked in the square between
dances.
It was cool amongst the trees.
There was a full moon overhead and it was all very
romantic.
Yolanda was not really surprised when she received
her second proposal of marriage – from a young gentleman
she had met half-a-dozen times at different parties.
She danced with him and thought him reasonably
pleasant, but he did not have anything of particular interest
to say.
Once again she felt that she would have been more
amused to listen to her stepfather and several of the older
men including her host.
They were talking animatedly at the opposite end of
the ballroom to where the band was playing.
When she received her second proposal, she was not
frightened.
“It is very kind of you,” she said demurely, “and I am
very honoured that you should ask me to be your wife. But
quite frankly I have no intention of being married at the
moment.”
“I am not surprised when you are such a success,” the
young man told her. “But please will you think of me? I will
wait for you even if it means waiting for
years
.”
“I am sure that you would find that rather boring,” she
replied. “But, of course, we can be friends, can we not?”
“I do suppose,” he said with a wry smile, “I must be
thankful for some small mercies. But because you are so
beautiful, I want a great deal more than friendship. I will go
on hoping and perhaps by a miracle you will fall in love with
me one day!”
Yolanda felt it embarrassing to go on talking about
something she had no intention of doing.
So she suggested that they joined in ‘The Lancers’, a
dance in which it was impossible to speak intimately.
When ‘The Lancers’ finished, she realised with a
sense of relief that her stepfather was ready to go home.
Driving back in the carriage she questioned him,
“What were you talking about so earnestly to those
gentlemen while we were dancing?”
Her Stepfather laughed.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“I suppose it was business.”
“But of course,” he answered. “As you know it is the
one subject I am really knowledgeable about.”
“And on many other things too, including pictures. So
what was it tonight?”
“Need you ask, Yolanda? A report from America
regarding the automatic air brake is making people who
are concerned with or who have invested in our railways
aware that they are rapidly becoming out of date.”
By the time he finished speaking, they were back
home, so Yolanda did not say any more.
She kissed him goodnight and walked up to bed.
She was wondering if once again he would win and
somehow grasp the automatic air brake invention into his
clutches before anyone else could.
In which case Lord Milborne would perhaps not be
able to afford to buy any more pictures!
If that was to be the case, she felt it was rather sad, as
she sensed how much they meant to him.
‘At least I have warned him,’ she thought. ‘Surely he is
sensible enough to realise it is a question of getting there
first?’
That, she knew, was what her stepfather always did.
He worked as quickly as his brain – which was very quick
indeed.
She gave a little sigh and for some strange reason that
she could not quite fathom she really wanted Lord Milborne
to win the air brake race with her stepfather.
She somehow thought that he was so like her father –
he would have thought it so unfair and ungentlemanly to
push people out of the way.
Especially to grab the air brake before anyone else
had a chance.
‘I have really done my best, I cannot do any more,’
Yolanda decided a little ruefully before she fell asleep.
*
The next day followed the same routine –
A luncheon party, an afternoon reception, a dinner
party and a dance. It seemed to Yolanda a repetition of
what had happened a dozen times already.
Then she felt a bit ashamed of herself for not being
more enthusiastic.
‘What I really want now more than anything,’ she
decided, ‘is to return to the country.’
She had ridden Chestnut practically every morning in
Rotten Row, but it was not the same as riding over the
fields or jumping in the paddock.
When Friday morning finally came, she felt as excited
as a child leaving school –
they were going back to the
country
.
To her delight her stepfather was driving a team of four
well-matched black horses.
She knew that the horses had been bought recently at
Tattersall’s, the renowned auctioneer in Knightsbridge, so
were likely to be exceedingly fast.
Seeing him control the huge, proud-looking horses,
she realised that her stepfather was a good driver, as well
as a very good rider, both of which rather surprised her.
After all, when he was a young man, his family had not
been able to afford horses, whilst her father had ridden, as
he had often boasted, since he could crawl.
“You drive very well, Step-papa,” she blurted out.
“I hear surprise in your voice,” he replied, “which I don’t
think is very complimentary.”
“I am sorry if I sounded rude,” answered Yolanda, “but
actually I was wondering how you came to ride so well and
learnt to drive as well as any of your coachmen?”
“Thank you, Yolanda – now that
is
a compliment! And
as you are so curious, I will tell you about it. As soon as I
could afford it, I had myself taught by the very best drivers
and riders. I then devoted many hours to learning and
practised as often as I could. ”
“That was indeed clever of you!”
“I have told you before that if you want something you
have to fight for it. And I had no intention of being heavy in
the saddle or having clumsy fingers with the reins. It was
another lesson and one which has certainly paid off.”
“Of course it did and I am enjoying driving with you
more than I can say.”
“I feel you are dying to get back to the country.”
“Of course I am! It will be lovely to be home, to see the
garden and find out what is new in the stables.”
Her stepfather smiled at her.
“We must not forget that Lord Milborne is coming to
view my pictures. He is arriving this afternoon before
dinner, but I suggest we show him nothing until tomorrow.”
“He must not interfere with our riding. I suppose he will
want to ride too?”
“I shall be very surprised if he does not. Incidentally if
you want an outstanding rider, then
he
is one.”
“Oh, is he?” Yolanda said, the surprise apparent on her
face. “I thought he was more of a City gentleman?”
“On the contrary,” her stepfather remarked, “he has
won quite a number of races riding his own horses and he
is Master of his own pack of foxhounds.”
Yolanda raised her eyebrows, both surprised and
impressed. Lord Milborne had certainly seemed a
Londoner when she had been talking to him in his house in
Grosvenor Square.
Now it seemed rather strange that he should be so
countrified.
“I believe that his foxhounds are outstanding,” her
stepfather was saying. “And I couldn’t help wondering if I
should have a pack of my own.”
“That would be certainly something new!”
“We will have to think about it. There is plenty of time
before the autumn.”
They drove on and by now there were only a few
houses and the undulating land was broken by clumps of
trees with their leaves shining in the sunshine.
They were very near to her stepfather’s house when
Yolanda enquired,
“By the way, Step-papa, have you invited anyone else
to dine tomorrow night, or are we having Lord Milborne all
to ourselves for two dinners?”
“Of course some other people are coming to dinner on
Saturday night and I thought very hard about who to ask. I
got the feeling that you were a little bored with dancing,
after all the excitement of the parties in London, so I chose
people who I thought could offer us a little intelligent
conversation.”
“It is something I would much prefer,” she smiled
happily.
“I thought too that as Alan Milborne is interested in the
opera, we might have some music.”
“A band? I thought you just said we were
not
going to
dance?”
“No, no – I have asked a man who is an extremely
good pianist to play for us after dinner. We can talk at the
same time so that it does not become an isolated
entertainment. I thought perhaps you would play for us too.”
Yolanda’s eyes widened.
“I have read your school reports and your music
teacher said that you were an excellent pupil. Besides
passing a series of examinations in music, you also sang in
the school choir?”
“Are you expecting me to sing tomorrow night?”
“Why not, Yolanda? I am contributing my part to the
evening and I think you should contribute too.”
“I am horrified at the idea. Also, I have not had an
opportunity to practice or think of something to sing.”
“Sing them something really delightful and not too
heavy,” he advised. “When people have had a lot to eat
and drink, they want to feel glamorous or even romantic.”
“I just hope that is really what your guests would like,
otherwise they might feel a little uncomfortable.”
“Trust me, Yolanda, they are mostly married couples. I
am told that Alan Milborne is pursued by all the beautiful
women in Mayfair, so he will not be looking for them in the
depths of the country.”
It suddenly struck Yolanda for the first time that Lord
Milborne was indeed an extremely good-looking man who
could not be much older than twenty-seven.
Of course all the ambitious mothers would pursue him
with their
debutante
daughters. She had seen them in
action at every party she had attended.
They sat in small clusters, scrutinising all the young
gentlemen and contriving to make their daughters dance
with someone who had a title – or else with someone who
was very rich.
Yolanda realised that up until then she had been
thinking of Lord Milborne in the same way as she thought of
his father.
She had not really thought of him as an attractive
young man at all.
Now she knew that she had been very silly.
Of course, there was no reason to think that he was
particularly interested in machinery, the railways or for that
matter automatic air brakes.
It had really been quite unnecessary for her to go to
Grosvenor Square.
When she had realised that the Lord Milborne she
knew was not there, she should have gone away at once.
The new Lord Milborne had been most charming and
polite to her, but he had certainly not said that he was
hurrying off to America to bid for the air brake.
She could appreciate that pictures were more
interesting to him, particularly if they were by Stubbs and
depicted horses that he could ride better than anyone.
‘I have just made rather a fool of myself,’ Yolanda
considered.
However, it did not matter at all as Lord Milborne was
never likely to be interested in her.
Granted he had paid her a compliment, but that was
just good manners – it was the sort of thing any young man
might say to a pretty young woman.
All the same Yolanda was still thinking about him when
she walked slowly upstairs to dress for dinner.
There was as yet no sign of his arrival.
‘Perhaps he has received a better invitation,’ she
speculated.
Then she told herself she rather wanted to see him
again. He was certainly a great deal more interesting than
the majority of gentlemen she had met in London.
As she glanced at herself in the mirror, she knew she
was looking very attractive.
In fact it would not be too conceited to say –
lovely
.
“I wonder if I ought to wear some of my Mama’s jewels
with this gown?” she asked Emily.
“I thinks it looks nice just as it is, my Lady,” Emily
replied. “And you don’t want to go shouting about having
jewellery at this moment, it be dangerous.”
Yolanda looked at her in surprise.
“What do you mean by that?”
“They were telling me as soon as I arrived, there’s
been terrible trouble down here. Several houses have
been broken into and one elderly lady, I don’t know her
name, got stopped on the road by three men with pistols.
They took her pearls off her neck, her earrings and every
penny her had in her handbag.”
“I have never heard anything so awful!” Yolanda
exclaimed. “Has the Master been told?”
“I don’t rightly know, my Lady, but they be talking about
it in the kitchen and they says it be a gang of roughs. Nasty
it sounds to me.”
“And to me,” agreed Yolanda.
She did not say anything aloud, but was hoping that
her stepfather’s pictures were safe.
It seemed to her more than likely.
Surely ruffians, who were collecting jewellery and
holding up women on a quiet country road, would not be
interested in pictures by Great Masters?
All the same the two Stubbs her stepfather had just
purchased were certainly valuable, even though he was a
comparatively modern artist.
Other artists in his large collection like Holbein and
Raphael grew increasingly more valuable year by year.
‘I must warn Step-papa to be very careful,’ Yolanda
decided as she walked down the stairs.
Then she saw four sturdy young footmen, all over six
feet tall, standing in the hall and remembered that there
were two night watchmen always on guard when they went
to bed. Reassured, she pushed the possibility of danger to
the back of her mind.
As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she was
aware of someone coming down behind her.
She looked back and saw it was Lord Milborne.
He must have arrived just after she had gone up to
dress.
And now he was changed and looking smart and
extremely handsome in his white tie and tails.
She waited until he joined her at the bottom of the
stairs.
“You were so late in arriving, my Lord, I was afraid you
might not be coming.”
“How could I stay away when you have so much to
show me?” he asked.
“I hear, as well as the paintings, you are interested in
the stables.”
“There is one horse in particular that I want to see,”
Lord Milborne responded. “It is one that your stepfather
outbid me for at Tattersall’s a few weeks ago. I was very
angry with my Head Groom for allowing him to do so!”
Yolanda laughed.
“I know which one it is,” Yolanda informed him.
“Then please arrange that I can ride him tomorrow. If
nothing else it will teach me a lesson that one must never
be pipped at the post!”
Yolanda laughed again.
“I am so very sorry for you, my Lord, but we have
Champion. He is a wonderful horse and I enjoy riding him
myself.”
“In which case, I suppose I shall have to pretend that I
no longer mind losing him.”
“You can then tell me what you really feel after you have
ridden him,” replied Yolanda. “I have a feeling that having
done so, you will just want to ride away on him and
disappear, so we can never find you or Champion again!”
“That is certainly an idea – and a very good one at
that!”
They were both chuckling as they entered the drawing
room.
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning Yolanda awoke and thought at once
how exciting it would be to ride with Lord Milborne.
She had heard her stepfather giving the orders that the
horses were to be brought round to the front of the house as
soon as they had finished breakfast.
She dressed hurriedly without worrying about her
appearance – she merely took a quick look to see if her
hair was tidy before speeding downstairs.
As she entered the breakfast room, she realised that
both her stepfather and Lord Milborne were already there.
They were laughing at something in the newspaper.
“Good morning. What is all the excitement about?”
she asked.
The two men rose as she walked towards them and
she sat down.
“Your stepfather has hit the headlines,” said Lord
Milborne.
“In what way?”
Lord Milborne looked at his host, who after a long
moment, commented sourly,
“It is just infuriating how everything gets into the
newspapers, however much one tries to prevent it.”
“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” soothed Lord
Milborne. “After all, they praised you to the skies.”
“Far too much!”
“Do please tell me what all this is about,” begged
Yolanda.
“When I heard about the two Stubbs for sale that Lord
Milborne has come here to see,” her stepfather began, “the
owner of the house had just died and the auctioneers were
arranging the rooms for the sale.”
“Putting, of course, the Stubbs in a prominent place in
the order of sale,” remarked Lord Milborne.
“Naturally they recognised that they were the most
important objects to be sold.”
“Then what happened?” prompted Lord Milborne.
“I looked round and thought the rest of the things in the
house were of no particular interest. Then I noticed a
picture propped up against a wall. The glass was broken
and the frame was in a very bad state.”
“But you thought it might be interesting,” Yolanda
interposed.
Her stepfather smiled at her.
“I think my instinct told me that, although it looked
dilapidated, there was something remarkable about it.”
“And there was?”
“That is exactly what we have been reading,” Lord
Milborne chimed in. “Your stepfather was clever enough to
recognise a great masterpiece – even though no one else
had and he bought it for a song.”
“Seventy pounds to be exact,” boasted Mr. Garrack.
“And what is it really worth?” asked Yolanda.
“I would not like to guess,” her stepfather replied,
making a gesture with his hands.
“Who was the artist?”
“It was ‘
St. George and the Dragon
’ by Raphael,” Lord
Milborne answered her. “It was only recognised after your
stepfather had bought it by one of the representatives of
Sotheby’s who had come from London for the sale.”
Yolanda laughed.
“He must have been furious that he had not bought it
himself!”
“Of course he was,” answered Lord Milborne, “and
what was so brilliant of your stepfather was that he did not
go to the sale himself. Otherwise if people had known that
he was going to bid for the picture, undoubtedly the price
would have gone up.”
Yolanda looked at him and saw that his eyes were
twinkling.
She knew that was what had been on his mind as he
had sent his secretary to the sale rather than go himself.
“You are very clever, Step-papa, and I am longing to
see the picture as I know Lord Milborne must be too.”
“You shall see all three of my purchases when we
come back from our ride. Now come on, we must not keep
the horses waiting.”
“No, of course not,” agreed Lord Milborne.
Then they were all laughing again, and it seemed to
Yolanda that their laughter set the tone of the whole day.
The moment she saw Lord Milborne in the saddle and
taking the jumps in the paddock, she realised what an
exceptional rider he was.
He handled his mount in the same competent way her
father had always done.
From the paddock they galloped over the flat land and
covered most of the estate before they turned for home.
Lord Milborne was riding on Champion and he was
thrilled with his mount.
He told its owner that he was too lucky.
“Everything you touch just seems to turn to gold, Oliver,
and it is exactly what the newspaper was reporting today!”
“The last thing I want is for people to be told I am rich,”
replied Mr. Garrack. “It means a mass of begging letters all
telling me, better than I know myself, how they could spend
my millions!”
He gave a quick laugh before he added,
“However much one gives them, I always feel they think
it should have been more.”
“You can be quite certain of that. You must be so
careful of begging letters. I am told that there are people
who make a considerable income by writing pathetic letters
to everyone who is described in the newspapers as being
a millionaire.”
Mr. Garrack sighed, but he did not say anything.
As they rode on they talked of other subjects.
After luncheon Lord Milborne was taken to see the
pictures and he was as thrilled with the Stubbs as Yolanda.
“They are so lovely, Step-papa, and now you have
such an outstanding collection of them you must be careful
they are not stolen.”
“I assure you that I take every precaution.”
Yolanda remembered that she had not yet told him
about the gang that was roaming the County and causing
such trouble.
She was not unduly worried – they sounded so rough
that she thought it unlikely they would be interested in
pictures.
Snapping out of her unpleasant thoughts she could
hear her stepfather talking to Lord Milborne about the
Raphael, agreeing how different it would look when it was
cleaned and beautifully framed.
Yolanda now recalled that Raphael, before he died in
1520, had painted many religious pictures in Florence and
Rome and she felt certain that this particular one was
unique.
What the exceptional painting depicted would make it
extremely interesting to all collectors.
She slipped her arm into her stepfather’s.
“It was so astute of you, Step-papa, to recognise a
picture in that state. But I am sure you are right, when it is
cleaned and properly framed it will look magnificent in the
drawing room.”
“That is exactly where I was thinking of putting it,
Yolanda. I know if your mother had been here, she would
have been thrilled to have it in her room.”
They went riding again for a short time later in the
afternoon and when they finally came back, Yolanda asked,
“Is there a dinner party tonight or are we alone?”
“I am glad to say that we are alone,” her stepfather
replied. “And I only hope our distinguished guest will not
find it dull, although the big dinner party I have planned is for
tomorrow night.”
“On the contrary, I am delighted that I shall have a
chance of talking seriously on a subject that I know we are
both interested in,” remarked Lord Milborne.
Yolanda’s stepfather did not ask what this was, and
she couldn’t help wondering as they walked upstairs to
change for dinner what that particular subject might be.
Apart from pictures what could be of interest to two
men who were both so knowledgeable, but in very different
ways?
Yolanda put on one of her prettiest gowns.
She sensed that there was a look of admiration in Lord
Milborne’s eyes as she came into the drawing room.
The chandelier had been lit, although the sun had not
yet set and the whole room seemed to glitter with light.
The butler soon announced dinner and they moved into
the dining room.
As usual the food was delicious and Lord Milborne
commended the wines.
When the coffee had been served, Yolanda thought
she ought to leave the gentlemen.
She glanced at her stepfather and, as she did so, Lord
Milborne said,
“If you are thinking of leaving us, Lady Yolanda, please
do not. I would like you to stay and hear what I now have to
say.”
Again Yolanda wondered what it could be.
She thought her stepfather seemed rather surprised as
Lord Milborne put down his glass.
“The reason that I was late arriving last night was
because I had been to meet with Lord Granville who, as you
will know, is the new Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.”
Mr. Garrack nodded sagely.
“Yes, and I think he will do very well. I have met him on
several occasions.”
“Lord Granville has asked me, and he has already
discussed the issue with the Prime Minister, if I would help
him by becoming the Under Secretary of State for Foreign
Affairs.”
Mr. Garrack looked startled.
“That is something I did not expect, but, of course, very
many congratulations, Alan! I am sure that you will enjoy the
position.”
“I believe, as I have travelled so much in my life, I will
come in useful. At least the Prime Minister and Lord
Granville have agreed to the first proposal I have suggested
to them since I was appointed.”
“What is that?” Mr. Garrack wanted to know.
There was a lengthy pause and Yolanda was quietly
questioning what this all meant.
Why had he wanted her to stay and listen to what he
had to say?
“I paid a private visit to America a few weeks ago,” he
resumed. “But I took it upon myself to make a detailed
investigation into George Westinghouse’s invention of the
automatic air brake that has already been adopted by most
American railways.”
Yolanda was astonished at what was being said.
She sat there listening with wide eyes.
She could not help but wonder why Lord Milborne had
brought up this particular subject.
“When I returned,” he went on, “I spoke to several of
those who are financing the English railways and who seem
to be reluctant to start producing the air brake here in
England when they could buy it direct from America.”
“I think Westinghouse,” added Mr. Garrack slowly, “has
coped with all the teething difficulties and it would be much
better for the English to acquire the air brake, as it is
working now, than to start again from scratch.”
“That is exactly what I had thought. I am therefore
asking you, Oliver, if you will, to negotiate on behalf of the
British Government with Westinghouse for his air brake.”
For a moment there was complete silence.
Then Mr. Garrack sighed,
“Such an idea never crossed my mind.”
“I think,” smiled Lord Milborne, “that you would be a far
better negotiator than I am. In fact, you are noted for the
brilliance by which you have negotiated for yourself in the
past. That is exactly why we do feel no one could obtain a
better deal for Great Britain than yourself.”
Yolanda clasped her hands together.
“It is a wonderful idea, Step-papa!” she exclaimed. “Of
course, Lord Milborne is right. If anyone could obtain the
air brake at the right price it is
you
.”
“I think you flatter me, Yolanda. At the same time I am
naturally very honoured that you should have offered me
such an interesting, if difficult, task and I can assure you I
will do my best.”
“So you accept?”
“Unreservedly, Alan.”
“The Prime Minister will be delighted and so will Lord
Granville. And as it was all my idea, I feel that I shall
deserve a little of the rapturous applause when you come
back in triumph!”
Mr. Garrack held up his hands.
“Let’s not count our chickens before they are hatched.
But as it so happens I have met George Westinghouse,
and I have been aware for some time that he was
experimenting with an invention that is so urgently needed
not only in America but in the rest of the world.”
He sighed before he continued,
“For the simple reason, with the enormous increase in
railways, there are far too many collisions and accidents
because of the inadequacy of the brakes.”
“I agree with you, and I am quite certain that if we
adopt the system here in Britain, Europe will follow us.”
“Which is just what we would like to happen. Therefore
the sooner we get moving the better!”
They rose and moved into the drawing room in a very
cheerful mood.
Yolanda realised that her stepfather was seriously
delighted at being offered such an important post by the
British Government.
When she was ready to retire to bed, she kissed him
affectionately.
“I know you are thinking of what you will be able do with
the air brake, Step-papa, and I am sure that you will ‘bring it
off’, as my dear Papa would have said, with all your usual
brilliance.”
“I would hate to disappoint you, Yolanda.”
She held out her hand to Lord Milborne.
Then, when she looked into his eyes, she knew he was
saying something to her secretly.
She became aware, as if he was speaking the words,
that he was saying ‘thank you’ to her.
She smiled at him.
Then she felt a strange little quiver she could not
explain run through her entire body.
Just for a moment she did not take her hand away from
his.
As if he could not help himself, Lord Milborne bent his
head and kissed it.
Her stepfather was not aware of this because he had
gone to the drinks table to pour out a nightcap before he
went to bed.
Just for a moment Yolanda’s fingers tightened on Lord
Milborne’s.
Then, because she was feeling shy, she turned away
and walked towards the door.
Upstairs in her bedroom she told herself that if she had
indeed put the idea into his mind, it was a wonderful thing
to have happened.
Undoubtedly her brilliant stepfather would make a huge
success of the proposition ahead of him.
‘If he is working hard, it will make him happy,’ she told
herself. ‘And he will not miss Mama as much as he does
now.’
Because she was so excited, she found it difficult to go
to sleep.
*
When she awoke it was very early in the morning and
the sun was only just beginning to shine.
She felt she could not stay in bed any longer.
So pulling on her riding skirt and without taking a
jacket she hurried down to the stables.
There was only one sleepy groom on duty and he
looked at Yolanda in surprise because she was so early.
“I would like to ride on Chestnut,” she said after a
moment’s hesitation as she was considering whether she
should take out Champion.
Then she thought that she should leave the beautiful
stallion for Lord Milborne.
It did not take the stable boy very long to saddle up
Chestnut and he opened the gate into the paddock for her.
She took Chestnut over only two of the jumps and then
she galloped him speedily on the piece of flat land.
There was an isolated wood in the near distance – she
sometimes went there when she wanted to think about a
problem and did not wish to be disturbed.
Now she wanted to think of what her stepfather was
going to do in America and also how she could best thank
Lord Milborne.
He had been so astute in making it so easy for her
stepfather to agree to undertake what he wanted, and it had
all happened without him in any way being involved in one
of his more doubtful transactions.
The whole scenario was passing through her mind as
she entered the wood.
As usual she felt thrilled by the beauty of the trees, the
songs of the birds and the soft shuffle of the rabbits in the
undergrowth.
A mossy path led right through the wood and in its
centre there was an ancient woodcutter’s hut in a clearing.
It was made from the trunks of trees and Yolanda
speculated that it must have been there for a hundred
years.
She had never heard of her stepfather’s woodcutters
using it to sleep in, but they were likely to eat their midday
meal there in bad weather.
Now, as she approached the woodcutter’s house, she
saw the door was open and wondered if there was anyone
inside.
Chestnut moved into the clearing in front of the hut.
As he did so, to Yolanda’s surprise, two men came
from behind the trees on either side of her.
They were both rough common-looking men with hard
faces and she thought that they were very unlike any of the
countrymen her stepfather employed on his estate.
The two men stared at her and then two more men
came out of the wooden hut.
They were even more unpleasant-looking than the two
she had already seen.
It suddenly struck her that maybe this was the gang that
Emily had told her about who were causing so much trouble
in the vicinity.
She thought it would be a mistake to talk to them or to
linger any longer in the wood, so she pulled up the reins to
thrust Chestnut forward.
Then another man appeared directly on the path in
front of her.
“You be the lady,” he called out in a coarse voice, “who
be the daughter of the rich man at the big ’ouse.”
He was standing directly in front of Chestnut, who was
forced to come to a standstill.
Yolanda tried to turn him round so that she could ride
back the way she had come.
“I am in a hurry – so please excuse me if I ride back to
the house.”
The two men who had been behind her took hold of
Chestnut’s saddle.
“Bring ’im along,” ordered the man in front of her.
“Just what are you doing? Leave my horse alone,”
cried Yolanda. “I have to return home immediately!”
“Us weren’t expectin’ you this early. Now you’re ’ere
you’re savin’ us a lot o’ time.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Yolanda screamed, “and
let go of my horse! This is my stepfather’s land and you are
trespassing on it!”
“Us knows that,” one of the men jeered roughly. “’ow
much do you think ’e’ll pay us if us goes?”
There was coarse laughter from the gang.
Yolanda was beginning to feel afraid.
Then the two men holding Chestnut’s bridle began to
follow the ruffian who had spoken to her.
He was leading the way through the wood.
“I insist,” shouted Yolanda, “that you allow me to go
home. If you want some food or money, I will arrange for
you to have some.”
The men walking ahead of her laughed again.
“Us’ll ’ave
your
money. Your Papa ’as plenty o’ it and
’e’ll want ’is little gal back.”
There was a sneering note in his voice, which made
the other men snigger.
Now Yolanda was feeling really frightened.
She realised that they were intending to kidnap her.
It was obviously something they had been planning for
some time and she had walked straight into their trap.
How could she have guessed that the gang who had
caused so much trouble would be lurking in the woods?
She realised that it would be no use arguing with them.
There was really no necessity for her to hold the reins
as the two men were firmly leading Chestnut.
She therefore sat stoutly on her saddle wondering
desperately how she could make any communication with
her stepfather.
This part of the estate was not being cultivated at the
moment so there would be little likelihood of anyone seeing
her or the men who were with her.
They moved on in silence.
The ruffian who was obviously the leader walked in
front, followed by the two men holding Chestnut’s bridle and
then three behind her, making six villains in all.
Yolanda thought she had little chance of escaping from
them and the only sensible thing to do now was to go
quietly with them with as much dignity as possible.
She was, however, well aware that it was not going to
be easy for her.
She reckoned by now, although she did not have a
watch, that it must be after eight o’clock.
Her stepfather would now have been woken by his
valet, as would Lord Milborne.
When they went down to breakfast and she was not
there, they would be told she had gone riding earlier.
It would not occur to them then that anything was wrong
– not until very much later when she did not return.
‘
What can I do?
What can I do?’ she asked herself
desperately.
She glanced again at the two men behind her. They
were most unpleasant and definitely not countrymen.
She was not certain as to where they came from, but
judging by their accents they must have come from the
worst slums.
They progressed further down the mossy path until the
wood came to an end.
Just inside the wood Yolanda could see the remains of
what she knew had once been a slate mine.
In the past most large estates had mined their own
slates to repair the roofs of cottages and barns and to
employ local people.
Nowadays most of the old country slate mines had
been closed down as it was so much cheaper to buy slates
and tiles that were manufactured in their thousands in large
factories in the North of England.
She had often seen what remained of the slate mine
when she had been riding and she thought it looked rough
and unsafe and should be filled in.
Now the men walking ahead were coming to a halt in
front of the mine.
Yolanda knew instinctively that that was where she was
going to be taken a prisoner.
“Get down!” the chief ruffian demanded.
It was an abrupt order, but for the moment Yolanda
hesitated.
“What do you – want me to do?” she asked.
“You’re be goin’ to write a letter to your rich Papa.
Come on and don’t waste too much time about it.”
Yolanda dismounted and felt thankful that neither of the
men holding Chestnut made any attempt to help her.
Then, when the leader started to walk down into the
mine, she hesitated.
“What about my horse?” she asked him nervously.
He turned back.
“He be a-goin’ to be our messenger – ’e’ll take the
letter to your Papa and then ’e’ll come to no ’arm.”
She patted Chestnut as if to reassure him and then
with a sinking heart she followed the leader down into the
mine.
There were broken stones, fallen foliage and pieces of
wood scattered about, as she passed into the mine itself.
Because there were so many holes in the roof it was
not difficult to find the way.
There was a clearing where the ruffian stopped and he
was now standing in front of a broken wooden chest.
On top of it was a bottle of cheap ink, a pen and a
sheet of paper.
“Yer write what I tells yer,” he commanded, “and no
tricks or yer’ll be sorry.”
Yolanda did not answer him – she merely picked up
the pen.
“Tell yer rich Papa yer be our prisoner and us wants
ten thousand pounds for yer.”
Yolanda gave a gasp.
“He cannot pay all that money. Anyway he will not have
it with him.”
The chief ruffian gave a smirk.
“I knows that, but ’e’s plenty o’ time to go to the bank
afore it gets dark and that be what ’e’s a-goin’ to pay us.”
“Supposing he refuses?” asserted Yolanda.
“Then yer can tell ’im us will kill yer or per’aps yer’ll die
o’ starvation.”
“I am sure he will come to find me.”
The man laughed and it was not a pleasant sound.
“Who’d think o’ lookin’ for a pretty lady like yer in this
old mine? They says in the village it ain’t been used fer
years and some thinks it be ’aunted so they won’t come
anywhere near it.”
Yolanda thought that this was very likely true.
Anyway why should anyone look for her in a slate mine
that had lain empty for years and years?
There was not a thing she could do, she considered,
but write down what the ruffian demanded.
Slowly she dipped the quill pen into the ink.
“Now no tricks!” he wheezed menacingly. “I can read,
so yer write just what I’ve told yer to say or yer’ll be sorry.”
He waved the stick he was holding in his hand.
Yolanda thought for a moment that he was about to hit
her.
She gave a little cry and moved backwards.
“Just yer do now as what I says or it’ll be the worse fer
yer.”
Because it was easier, Yolanda knelt down to write the
letter.
She wrote,
“
Dearest Step-papa
,
I have been captured and held prisoner by a gang
that has been operating in the neighbourhood.
They are now demanding ten thousand pounds for
my safe release
.”
Whilst she was writing the ruffian had been looking
over her shoulder.
“Tell ’im to put it under the gate at the end o’ that there
field where yer ’as the jumps.”
“Oh, the paddock you mean?”
“Yes. Us wants the money there as soon as it be dark
and if anyone touches the man as collects it, yer’ll die, yer
tell ’im that!”
Obediently, as there was nothing else she could do,
Yolanda wrote down what he had just said.
“Now yer sign it with love and kisses,” he crowed
jeeringly.
“
I am sorry that this should have happened
,” wrote
Yolanda. “
Please save me, Step-papa, I am so terrified
.”
She signed her name and then she paused. She
thought that the ruffian was about to take the paper from
her, so she added quickly,
“
Please feed Pizarra at six o’clock
.”
Then she put down the pen and lent back.
The ruffian behind her picked up the paper.
“What be this ’ere that yer’ve written?” he enquired
suspiciously.
“It’s about my dog. I always feed him every day at six
o’clock and he will be hungry.”
He grunted, but did not say anything, just walked away
with the paper in his hands.
Yolanda looked around.
She realised there was nothing to sit on except the
ground or the broken wooden chest, so she sat on the edge
of it.
Then she heard the gang talking up above.
To her surprise the chief ruffian came back.
“Have yer got a pin?” he asked. “Us ’as to pin yer note
on the ’orse’s saddle and if it ain’t stuck firm yer rich Papa
won’t be a-gettin’ it.”
Yolanda had fastened her blouse at the neck with a
small brooch, so she unfastened it and held it out to him.
He took it and looked closely at it to see if it was worth
anything and then he disappeared again.
She thought that they must be taking Chestnut back to
the paddock and turning him loose.
When he was seen alone, someone was sure to think
that there had been an accident.
They would undoubtedly think she had been thrown
and they would catch Chestnut and then see the note.
She was wondering desperately what her stepfather
and Lord Milborne would then do.
If they immediately sent for the Police, she thought
there was every likelihood that the men would either kill or
injure her to stop her from giving evidence against them.
It seemed impossible that her stepfather would give
such a large sum of money to these desperadoes.
But what was the alternative
?
The whole situation was desperately depressing.
‘What on earth can I do?’ thought Yolanda again.
Then, because she was really extremely frightened,
she started to pray.
As she fervently prayed to God, she felt somehow that
if her stepfather could not save her, Lord Milborne would
think of a way of doing so.
How, she had no idea.
She only thought that there was indeed something
about him that would resent giving in to blackmail, so by
some miracle somehow he would save her.
Up above the gang were talking amongst themselves.
Yolanda was aware that one of them was about to
mount Chestnut.
It became obvious that the talking had degenerated
into an argument and their voices became louder and
louder as they quarrelled with each other.
Listening carefully, she could make out that they were
arguing about who should take the horse back.
Finally someone was chosen and she heard him ride
off, whilst hoping and praying that he would not be cruel to
Chestnut.
She was certain that by now her stepfather and Lord
Milborne would have finished their breakfast.
They would be about to mount their horses whilst
wondering where she was.
They might come to look for her and if they saw
Chestnut being ridden by a stranger, they might force the
villain to tell them where she was.
This idea, however, was soon shattered.
Some time later the chief ruffian came down below.
“Yer ’orse be back in the paddock – ” he began.
“I hope that the man who rode him was gentle with
him,” insisted Yolanda.
“’E be all right – that man is the one us chooses when
us ’as to steal an ’orse, so ’e knows if they be good or bad.
It be a pity us can’t keep that ’un.”
He spoke to her in a mocking manner and Yolanda
thought it was more dignified to ignore it.
So she merely remarked,
“I am glad you have taken Chestnut back safely.”
“Now us be a-goin’ to make sure that ye’re safe.
There be a nice little cell all ready for yer, if yer’ll come this
way.”
Yolanda’s heart sank into her boots, but there was
nothing she could do.
She walked behind him further into the mine.
Then, when she was afraid they might be going even
deeper, he stopped.
On the left there was what looked like a small cave with
a dim light coming through several holes in the roof, not
large enough for anything but a rabbit to climb through.
“This ’ere be where yer can rest, lidy and the way us’ve
just come’ll be blocked and if yer were to go the other way
yer’ll fall down into the mine. So if yer ’urt yerself, don’t
blame me!”
“I will stay here, but I would like something to sit on.”
“After a sofa and chairs, be yer?” he jeered. “That be
somethin’ us ’aven’t got. But yer can ’ave the bit o’ old
wood yer’ve been writin’ on, if that be yer fancy.”
“It will be better than nothing,” she sighed.
He went and fetched the broken wooden chest.
He carried it to where Yolanda was standing and
plumped it down in the middle of the cell.
Then he said,
“Now no tricks. If yer tries to escape us’ll catch yer and
tie yer up. Yer’ll find that real uncomfortable, yer can be
sure o’ that. If yer screams us’ll gag yer – ”
“I shall be extremely quiet and stay here until I am
rescued.”
The ruffian laughed.
“Rescued! Yer’ll stay ’ere till yer Papa’s money
comes, and when that ’appens, yer can walk ’ome. Be that
clear?
“It be no use expectin’ Bucking’am Palace, but if ye’re
good and give us no trouble, I’ll give yer somethin’ to eat
when us ’as our meal.”
“Thank you, I would be very grateful.”
The man gave Yolanda an appraising look.
“I’ll say one thing for yer. Yer’ve the sense not to make
a fuss. Some women’d be screamin’ and cryin’ and a lot o’
good it’d do ’em. But I tells yer again, one scream or one
cry and yer’ll be gagged!”
He walked away and Yolanda settled down on the
broken chest, which was just strong enough to hold her.
She thought it was better than sitting on the rough floor
that was grey and dirty from slate chippings.
She wondered frantically if her stepfather or Lord
Milborne could possibly understand the postscript she had
written at the bottom of her letter.
She felt that they were both intelligent enough to do so,
but at the same time she could not have put anything that
was too obviously a clue to her whereabouts.
‘They will never think of the slate mine,’ she told
herself, ‘unless one of them speaks Spanish.’
Time seemed to pass very slowly.
She knew by the heat of the sun coming through the
holes in the roof when it was midday.
It was a full half-an-hour later that the chief ruffian
brought her some food.
It was not very appetising and she thought it must have
been made up at a local inn where they had stayed or
eaten.
It consisted of a tiny sandwich of thick bread, made
from badly ground flour with a speck of tasteless ham that
had doubtless been home-cured.
With the disgusting sandwich came a small bottle of
the cheapest and, she decided, nastiest beer that could be
purchased in the neighbourhood.
There was no question of the beer being poured into
anything and someone had knocked the top off the bottle,
so it was difficult to drink without cutting her lips and mouth.
However, she was both hot and hungry so she drank
the beer and ate some of the sandwich.
Now the gang had come underground so that they
would not be seen.
They were just a short distance away from her in the
mine and she could hear them laughing and talking.
If she listened intently, she could hear every word they
were saying and it was not particularly edifying.
They made jokes that she thought were exceedingly
vulgar.
It was the chief ruffian who talked the most.
“I tells yer what us’ll do, my boys,” Yolanda could hear
him saying, “when us gets this ’ere money, us’ll go abroad.
Us ’ave ’ad all us’ll get out o’ this lot and it’ll be a bit
dangerous if they tells the Police and they be a-lookin’ for
us.”
“Where’ll us go?” someone asked.
“Across the Channel. The food be good in France and
the women more fun than this ’ere lot.”
They all laughed at this remark.
And then followed several lewd jokes that Yolanda did
not care to listen to.
*
The day wore on.
She thought despairingly that it would never end.
She wondered if her stepfather had gone to the bank
to draw out the money.
He could afford it – of course he could!
But she considered it would be very humiliating if he
should have to pay such a huge sum to keep her alive.
Now the sun was beginning to set and she realised
that it would soon be dusk.
If the money for her was to be paid, her stepfather
would by now be taking it to the paddock.
It was a clever place for the gang to have chosen as
the gate at the end of the paddock could not be seen from
the stables.
If they wanted to arrest the man who had come for the
money, there was nowhere anyone could hide.
‘Perhaps,’ Yolanda pondered, ‘they will just put it down
and trust to their honesty to let me go free.’
Then she was praying again – praying for help.
Not only to her stepfather but also to Lord Milborne to
come and save her.
She had the most terrifying feeling that if they did not
pay the money at once, the gang really would kill her.
Even to think of it made her shiver.
She had by now completely convinced herself that the
chief ruffian was clearly nothing more than a hardened
criminal who would stop at nothing.
Now it was dusk and through one of the holes in the
ceiling she could see the first evening star.
It was then suddenly, when all was quiet, that there
came the bark and snarl of a dog.
It was a very noisy bark and its snarl turned into a yelp
– the dog seemed to be barking loudly at something that
was upsetting it.
Because it all sounded so strange, Yolanda went, as
she had not done before, to the opening into her cave.
She looked along the passage towards the gang.
She could just see that they were standing up and she
heard the chief ruffian yell,
“Two o’ yer go at once and stop that damned dog. It’ll
attract attention.”
“Shall us shoot it?” one of the gang asked.
“Don’t be a fool,” he replied. “A shot’ll carry for miles.
Just knock ’im off, so ’e don’t make that row.”
Even as he spoke the dog yelped again.
Its noise sounded almost shattering in the darkness
outside.
“Now just ’urry up and stop ’im, yer fools.”
Yolanda could hear two men scurrying up onto the
ground above.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Yolanda listened, as she knew the gang beyond her
were listening.
There was a shrill yelp from the dog – then silence.
She heard the chief ruffian guffaw,
“That’s got ’im!”
A moment or two later the dog started again – it was
yelping, growling fiercely and then yelping again.
She thought that the men must have been pursuing
him.
She moved quietly even nearer to the gang.
The chief ruffian was bellowing,
“What the devil be they a-doin’, the fools? Go up and
’elp ’em. That dog must be a-runnin’ round in circles and
they can’t get near ’im.”
“Us’ll finish ’im orf,” one of the gang exclaimed.
Yolanda could hear their footsteps as they climbed up
above.
The dog gave another long yelp and then silence.
She hoped that the poor animal was not dead or in
pain.
She was just about to walk back to her cell, when to
her astonishment there came the same yelp, but this time it
was a little louder.
Next the dog was growling savagely as if someone
was attacking him.
Peeping around the corner, Yolanda could see the
chef ruffian wildly waving his arms.
She reckoned, although she could not see his face,
that he was very angry.
“Fools. Oafs! Idiots!” he was screaming.
Then came a flood of oaths.
“I’d better go up now and ’elp ’em,” the only other gang
member left volunteered.
But there was not much enthusiasm in his voice.
“I’ll come with yer,” the chief ruffian insisted. “If us ain’t
that careful, us’ll ’ave people comin’ to see what’s
’appenin’. Where’s me stick?”
He must have found it.
Yolanda heard him scampering away followed by the
other man.
In order to hear better she moved to where they had
been sitting.
There were the remains of their supper lying in a mess
on the floor and there were several bags and boxes lying
against one wall, which she guessed must contain the loot
they had stolen.
Now the dog above was snarling really ferociously and
then he gave a loud yelp.
Again there was silence.
‘They really must have killed the poor animal this time,’
Yolanda surmised.
She only hoped that if he was still breathing they would
not bring him down below.
She looked round the mine wondering if, while they
were absent, there was any chance of being able to
escape.
But she knew it was impossible.
If she now climbed out of the mine onto the ground
above, they would see her and then they would surely be
extremely angry with her for trying to run away.
‘I just have to pray,’ she decided, ‘that Step-papa and
Lord Milborne will have understood the clues I wrote in the
letter.’
She was praying fervently when she heard footsteps
coming down from above towards her.
She thought it must be the chief ruffian returning – he
had obviously killed the dog, as there was no longer any
sound of him.
She turned to go back to where she had come from.
As she did so she stopped.
It was difficult for her to see because the brambles that
had grown over the entrance to the mine hid the light from
the moon and stars.
Yet in the half-light Yolanda became aware that the
man coming towards her was taller than any of the gang.
Then, as she hesitated, a voice called out softly,
“
Yolanda
!”
She gave a strangled cry that seemed to echo round
the walls of the mine.
It was Lord Milborne who had called her name and she
ran towards him.
She flung herself against him crying,
“
You have come, you have come, you understood
.”
His arms went round her.
“They have not hurt you, my darling?” he asked her
tenderly.
Then, as she looked up at him in surprise at such a
delightful endearment, his lips were on hers.
He was kissing her wildly.
Yolanda felt at once that the whole wide world was
suddenly bathed in sunshine and it was the most wonderful
thing that had ever happened to her.
As he could feel the softness and innocence of her
lips, Lord Milborne drew her closer and closer to him.
And his kisses became more demanding and more
passionate.
After what seemed like a long time, he raised his
head.
Yolanda was just able to breathe,
“It is you really –
you
,” she managed to mumble.
“It is me,” replied Lord Milborne. “How could you have
been so clever as to tell us where you were?”
Then before she could answer him, he was kissing her
again.
Kissing her until she felt that she was melting into his
body and they were not two people but one.
Finally in a strange voice, which did not sound like his
own, Lord Milborne murmured,
“I must take you home, my precious darling. I was so
terrified in case those villains had hurt you in any way.”
“What has happened to that dreadful gang?”
“They are on their way to the Police wagon, which is
waiting to take them all to prison.”
Yolanda gave a gasp.
“It was
so
frightening – but somehow I
knew
that you
would come and save me!”
“It might have been a great deal more difficult if we had
not known where you were.”
“I thought as the men seemed so strange that one of
them might be German or French and I only hoped that you
knew a little Spanish.”
Lord Milborne laughed.
“I was in Spain a year ago and managed to become
quite fluent. But only
you
would have thought of telling us
how many men there were!”
“And only you and my Step-papa would have been
able to decipher my code.”
When she mentioned her stepfather’s name, she felt
Lord Milborne give a little jerk – it was almost as if he had
forgotten about him.
He kissed her very gently and affectionately.
“Come, my darling, let us go home. We have a lot of
explaining to do in a much more comfortable place than
this.”
As he spoke he drew her towards the rough path up to
the ground above.
There was no sign of the gang.
Yolanda looked all around her.
“Did they kill the dog?”
Lord Milborne chuckled.
“
I
was the dog! Fortunately, as you can see, I am still
alive and therefore, my darling, able to kiss you!”
He kissed her again.
“Come along or else your stepfather will be angry with
me for keeping you away from him for so long.”
“Where is he?” enquired Yolanda.
“In the trees with the horses we are going to ride
home.”
Yolanda slipped her hand into his and they walked
back over the rough ground.
“How on earth did you learn to make such a strange
noise?” she asked him breathlessly. “I was quite certain it
was a
real
dog!”
“I was taught the trick in India when I was serving with
the brave men who work in ‘The Great Game’, which I
expect you have heard about?”
“Of course I have,” answered Yolanda. “It is the brilliant
Secret Service we are using against the Russians.”
“That is correct. They taught me many techniques, but
this one has certainly been the most effective.”
“What happened to the men when they came out? You
did not kill them?”
“I did not touch them. The moment they appeared two
of the men I brought with me – the footman and the scullion,
grabbed the first villain before he was aware of what was
happening. They threw a blanket over his head so that he
should not make a noise. Then they tied a rope around him
and marched him down to the Police van.”
“Then the dog attracted the next two!”
“Exactly,” agreed Lord Milborne. “I am delighted it
went off so well. I only wish I could tell my teachers in India
how successful I was at masquerading as a dog!”
“I think it was fantastic of you,” enthused Yolanda.
“Only you and my Step-papa could be so clever as to cope
with anything so dastardly and terrifying.”
“I will never allow you to be so frightened again, my
darling one,” vowed Lord Milborne.
He stopped and looked at her in the moonlight.
He thought that no one could look lovelier or more
desirable despite her shattering ordeal.
“You do love me?” he asked her tentatively.
“I did not realise it was – love that I was feeling,”
whispered Yolanda, “until you kissed me.”
“Then?”
“It was exactly what I prayed I would find one day and
God has answered my prayers.”
“As He has answered my prayers as well, Yolanda. I
was determined never to marry until I loved someone as I
now love you.”
He kissed her again.
It was a long and passionate kiss. Then as if he was
forcing himself to do so, he took her hand and started to
walk on.
When they reached the trees, Yolanda knew where
they were going.
Outside the wooden hut where she had encountered
the gang, there were three horses and her stepfather.
When he saw her, he held out his arms.
Yolanda ran towards him.
“I am safe, Step-papa,” she cried. “Safe, although it
has been very terrifying. I am so happy you did not have to
give them so much money.”
Her stepfather’s arms tightened around her.
“I would give them everything I possess rather than
lose you.”
“Lord Milborne was so very clever, I really thought it
was a dog barking.”
“He told me exactly what he was intending to do.
When I heard him instructing the men we had chosen to
take with us, it was a scheme I had never heard of before.”
“It was new to the gang and that was what really
mattered. They thought the dog would attract attention and
fortunately they did not shoot at him!” exclaimed Yolanda.
“I am very thankful for that,” added Lord Milborne.
“It was all your idea, Alan,” said Mr. Garrack, “and I am
extremely grateful to you.”
“I am afraid it is going to cost you something very
expensive,” responded Lord Milborne with a broad smile.
Mr. Garrack looked at him quizzically.
“I want to marry Yolanda as soon as possible,” he
explained. “I find I cannot live without her.”
“
Marry
Yolanda!”
There was a note of surprise in his voice, as if the idea
had not occurred to him.
“I love him, Step-papa,” whispered Yolanda.
He looked at her with tenderness in his eyes.
“Then, of course, I am delighted and I am happy to give
you my blessing. So let’s go home and celebrate.”
Lord Milborne lifted Yolanda onto Chestnut, who was
nuzzling against her as if he was so pleased to see her.
Then as Lord Milborne mounted on Champion, her
stepfather jumped onto his horse saying,
“I suppose, Alan, I shall now have to present you with
the horse you are riding and anyway it is a suitable reward
for all you have achieved tonight.”
“What
we
have achieved,” Lord Milborne corrected
him. “And let us hope it is the first of many campaigns we
can fight together!”
“I will say ‘
amen
’ to that, Alan.”
Then he rode ahead down the mossy path, which led
eventually to the paddock.
Yolanda followed and Lord Milborne came behind.
When they were galloping side by side across the flat
land, she thought how wonderful everything was now and
she shuddered that it was only a short time ago that she
was desperately praying to be rescued from the villainous
gang.
They reached the house to find that the entire staff was
waiting in the hall for their return.
When Yolanda appeared, there came a cheer started
by the butler and all those around him echoed it.
“You’re safe, my Lady?” he asked. “Those devils
haven’t hurt you in any way?”
“No, and I am now safe thanks to my stepfather and
Lord Milborne, and I am so very happy to be back home.”
“I’m sure that you’re hungry, my Lady,” suggested the
cook.
“I am indeed.”
“Dinner or rather supper, my Lady, is waiting,” said the
butler. “I was quite certain your Ladyship would be hungry
and the gentlemen wouldn’t touch anything before they went
to rescue you.”
“Well, we need a large glass of champagne first,” Mr.
Garrack proposed, “and it is just what everyone in the
house is to have tonight.”
There was another loud cheer from the staff.
Yolanda and Lord Milborne walked together into the
drawing room.
“I suppose,” she mused, “I ought to go upstairs and tidy
myself.”
“You look too beautiful for words, my darling, and I
thought that no one could be lovelier in the moonlight.”
He was speaking in a low voice that she could only just
hear.
He saw her blush at the depth and sincerity of his
words and he was thinking that she looked like a Goddess
of the moon.
“I love you beyond the entire universe, my dearest
Yolanda, and I want to kiss you again.”
“Now I am certain that I must go and make myself look
pretty for you!”
Yolanda ran away before he could stop her.
Emily was waiting for her in her bedroom.
“I must tidy myself, Emily, before I have anything to
eat.”
“We was all in ever such a state, my Lady. It were
terrible, really terrible.”
“It’s all over now,” sighed Yolanda.
She was slipping off her riding skirt as she spoke and
the blouse she had worn above it.
It only took a few minutes for her to wash and for Emily
to help her into one of her prettiest evening gowns.
She tidied her hair quickly and ran downstairs.
The gentlemen were waiting for her in the drawing
room.
“If you are going to be long drinking champagne,”
suggested her stepfather, “you had better bring it into the
dining room with you. We both admit to feeling extremely
hungry.”
“So am I,” agreed Yolanda, “although the men did give
me a sandwich to eat.”
“I suppose that was decent of them,” came in Lord
Milborne. “They will get a very long sentence because the
Police already have a whole list of robberies and acts of
violence they have perpetrated.”
Over dinner Yolanda persuaded Lord Milborne to
relate some other tricks he had learnt in India.
What he had to say was so fascinating she thought that
she could listen to him all night.
However, when the servants had left the room, Lord
Milborne said,
“Now please tell me how soon we can be married?
Personally I would much prefer a quiet wedding here in the
country, but of course, my darling, if you would wish the
ceremony to take place in London, I will do whatever you
want.”
“I would just love to be married very quietly in the
village Church where Mama is buried.”
She saw the delight in Lord Milborne’s eyes before he
added,
“That is what I hoped you would say and as your
stepfather needs to depart shortly for America, I suggest it
would be a mistake for him to delay his visit more than a
few days.”
“I agree, Alan, the sooner I get on with the job the
better. I don’t suppose I shall be the only one in Europe
bidding for the automatic air brake and the more
competition there is, the more money we shall have to pay
for it.”
“Then I suggest, if you agree, that tomorrow I go to
Windsor and inform the Queen of my engagement to
Yolanda. Her Majesty is my Godmother and I know that she
would be very offended if she was not the first to know that I
have been ‘caught’ at last.”
“I was not trying to
catch
you,” asserted Yolanda.
Lord Milborne put out his hand towards her.
“I know, my darling, and that makes you different from
anyone else I have ever met. Actually from the first moment
I saw you, I was determined to catch
you
and not let anyone
else have you!”
He looked deeply into Yolanda’s eyes.
Somehow there was no need for words.
Yolanda knew that he was giving her his heart and her
heart was already his.
*
Yolanda and her stepfather agreed that they would
make all the necessary arrangements for the wedding.
It was to take place very quietly the afternoon that Lord
Milborne returned from Windsor Castle.
He had said that he was obliged to stay the night with
the Queen and that would give them just two days to
prepare everything.
He proposed they spent their first night together at
home and left the following day for their honeymoon.
“I have a yacht in Dover Harbour and I thought it would
take us down the Channel to Spain.”
“To Spain!” Mr. Garrack exclaimed somewhat in
surprise. “Why Spain?”
Lord Milborne smiled.
“It was the Spanish word ‘
pizarra
’ that enabled us to
save Yolanda from a horribly unpleasant experience. I
know if we go to Madrid she will enjoy seeing the pictures
in the Prada, some of which are as good, if not better, than
anything we have at the moment in the National Gallery.”
“I would so love that,” cried Yolanda.
“Next we can either sail round the Mediterranean or if
you are bored, we can come home.”
“I know I shall
never
be bored,” she sighed.
“Just as I will never be bored with you, my darling. We
not only talk to each other with our hearts but with our
brains.”
“That is so true,” agreed Yolanda.
“Of course it is true,” her stepfather added. “I told you
once that love is really a battle of brains. So our brains
continue to excite, inspire and guide us safely all through
our lives.”
“It is exactly what Yolanda will do for me,” came in Lord
Milborne. “And that is why I am determined never to allow
anyone else to take her from me.”
“Do you really mean,” asked Yolanda, “that I shall be
able to help you with your vital work for the Foreign
Secretary?”
“I shall only be any good at it if you do so. And the
problems I will be confronted with can only be solved by us
both using our brains.”
“It makes the whole idea enthralling!” exclaimed
Yolanda.
Lord Milborne left the house for Windsor Castle early
the next morning and she and her stepfather started in
earnest to prepare for the wedding.
The local Vicar was an elderly gentleman who was
loved by the whole village.
He was most delighted to be asked to perform the
Service and promised to keep it secret until it had actually
taken place.
“I don’t want there to be anyone in the Church,”
explained Yolanda, “except Step-papa and, of course, your
daughter, if she will play the organ as she always does so
beautifully.”
“She will be honoured to do so,” the Vicar replied.
*
The ancient little Church was filled with flowers.
Yolanda had her best white evening gown altered so
that it could become a wedding dress – it only required a
little chiffon adding to the
décollétage
.
The train that her mother had worn at her wedding
could be suspended from her waist and there was also her
mother’s veil for her to wear as well as the jewellery that her
stepfather had given her.
Someone had once told Yolanda that it was unlucky to
see your bridegroom on your wedding day until you met him
in the Church.
So she therefore insisted that when Lord Milborne
arrived, he was to be taken upstairs to change.
Then a separate carriage was to be waiting to take
him down the drive to the Church and she would follow in
another carriage with her stepfather.
Because she could not resist listening at her door, she
heard Lord Milborne arrive back from Windsor Castle.
He was talking to her stepfather as they walked up the
stairs.
She longed to run out and fling her arms round his
neck – yet she knew she must keep to their plans.
Actually it made the whole wedding day even more
exciting and something she would always remember to the
day she died.
Finally just before six o’clock she could hear Lord
Milborne walk downstairs.
When she was sure he had left for the Church, she
went down to join her stepfather.
“You look so very lovely, my dearest,” he said with
admiration in his voice as she joined him in the drawing
room.
“That is a delightful compliment and I also want to say
something to you, Step-papa.”
“What is it?” he enquired.
“I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for all
your kindness and the love you have given me. We will
never forget you and we will never be far away from you in
the future.
“I know that Alan admires you enormously and we want
you to come continually to our house just as we shall
continually come to yours.”
Her stepfather put his arms round her and held her
close against him.
“That is just what I wanted you to say. Because I really
cannot afford to lose you as I lost your mother.”
“You will never lose me, Step-papa,” she promised. “I
shall always need you in my life even though I have Alan.”
He kissed her.
“Your future husband has just told me something very
touching. It is a secret, but I want you to know.
“When he told the Queen he was going to marry you,
she was not only delighted but very impressed that I had
been chosen by the Prime Minister and Lord Granville to
travel to America and acquire the automatic air brake for
Great Britain.”
“I am so glad she is pleased.”
“Her Majesty is not only pleased,” he went on, “but your
future husband spoke to her about my collection of pictures
and she has asked if she may come here to view them!”
Yolanda gave a little cry.
“Oh, Step-papa, that is a great honour and it will be
wonderful to have the Queen here. Think how thrilled the
staff will be.”
“And everyone in the neighbourhood,” he added.
“What Alan has also said and this is the secret you
must not mention to anyone. He thinks that if I promise the
Queen, when she is here, to give ten of my best pictures to
the National Gallery and I have by that time brought off the
deal for the automatic air brake for our railways, she will
honour me with a Knighthood.”
Yolanda gave a gasp.
“Oh, Step-papa that would be marvellous!”
She knew without him saying any more how much it
would mean to her stepfather.
It would be the crowning glory that he had worked so
hard for all his life.
It would also ensure that he would never again be
involved in any more of the underhand deals that he called
‘
business
’.
She was certain that from this moment on he would
strive in every way to follow the unwritten laws by which her
father had lived and died.
There was no need for further words.
There were tears in her eyes and she thought that
there was a suspicious brightness in her stepfather’s as
she kissed him.
“It is such fabulous news, Step-papa. I know how
proud and delighted Mama would be.”
“That is exactly what I was thinking and she would be
delighted at your marriage. So let’s go and get on with it!”
Yolanda gave a little laugh.
“That is just what I want to do,” she sighed, as she took
her stepfather’s hand in hers.
*
Much later that same day Lord Milborne kissed his
wife’s forehead as she lay silently in his arms.
“Do you still love me, my precious?” he asked.
“I love you so much,” Yolanda answered, “that you fill
my whole world and I am not only a part of you, but you are
a part of me. You are in the sky, in the trees and in the
water falling down from the fountain. Everywhere I look and
everything I think is
you
, Alan.”
“That is just what I want you to tell me, Yolanda,
because my precious, beautiful perfect little wife, I feel that
we have not only been looking for each other in this life but
in the many lives we have lived before. Now at last we are
together and no one can ever separate us.”
“That is what Mama believed and I am convinced that
she is now with Papa and they are both happy because we
are together.”
“As we shall always be, my darling Yolanda, and I am
wondering how I have been lucky enough to find you.”
“I think we were drawn together by a Power greater
than ourselves. When I first met you when I was expecting
to see your father, I felt in some strange way that you were
different to any other man I had ever met.”
“And you were not only the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen in my life, but there was something about you that
made me feel as I have not felt before with anyone else.”
Yolanda moved a little closer to him.
“Tell me,” she asked him, “what it was?”
“It is very difficult to put into words. Because you are
so lovely, my heart acknowledged it and I felt a thrill run
through my body which was different to anything I had ever
experienced.”
His lips were once again on her forehead.
“Then my brain told me quite clearly that this was what I
had been looking for as you are so unlike in every way
anyone else I have ever known.”
Yolanda gave a laugh.
“I thought we would get back to our brains.”
“They are so important, Yolanda, because it is what
makes us into what we are going to be in the future.”
Yolanda put up her hands and touched his cheek.
“I love you, I adore you, Alan, and my love for you will
make my brain do exactly what you tell it to do just as long
as you go on loving me.
“This is what my Papa would call a new adventure. To
me it is just the most wonderful, exciting and thrilling
adventure there could possibly be.”
“I can answer you in only one way, Yolanda!”
Then he was kissing her and drawing her closer and
closer to him.
As he made her his, Yolanda felt that he carried her up
into the sky and all the stars were dancing at the glory of
their love.
For both of them there was now a Heaven of Love that
was their own and no one could ever take it from them.
Where to buy other titles in
this series
The Barbara Cartland Pink collection is available for
download at the following online bookshops :-
www.barnesandnoble.com
- epub format for the Nook
eReader
www.whsmith.co.uk
- epub format for the Smiths/Kobo
eReader
www.firstyfish.com
- epub format
ebookstore.sony.com
- epub format for Sony
eReaders
www.amazon.co.uk
- For UK Kindle users
www.amazon.com
- For international Kindle users
itunes.apple.com
- for Apple iOS users
www.barbaracartland.com
- Printed paperbacks
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