Barbara Cartland - Look with the Heart

“Mrs. Dawes is a good cook when she has any of the ingredients,” Erlina answered, “so perhaps Mr. Cranley would be pleased to have her there.”

She was hoping that this would be the case as there was nowhere else suitable in the vicinity.

So if Mr. Cranley refused to let them stay in the house where he was still in charge, they would have to sleep on hay bales in the stables with the horses and there was, she told herself, literally no other place for them.

Mrs. Garnet began to clear away the plates and the Vicar’s children had not left a crumb.

When Erlina looked at them, she felt that, attractive though they were, they were all three of them far too thin.

The Vicar too looked older than his age.

She felt her hatred for the Marquis well up inside her again and she wanted to denounce him as she had often done before.

Then she asked herself what was the point? He was impervious to anything that might be said of him.

It was therefore only poetic justice that she and Gerry should take shelter under his roof when they had nowhere else to go.

As the Vicar rose from his chair, she said,

“We will go up to The Hall now – and thank you a million times for being so kind to us.”

The Vicar put his hand on her shoulder.

“I wish I could do more,” he said, “but you know how difficult things are at present.”

“Of course I know,” Erlina answered, “and I only hope that the wicked, wicked Marquis burns in a special Hell that is kept for people as bad as he is!”

The Vicar’s eyes twinkled.

Then, as he kissed Erlina’s cheek, he said,

“You know quite well that I cannot say ‘Amen’ to that.”

They both laughed and somehow it broke the tension.

“I think it’s just spiffing that we are going to The Hall,” Gerry piped up. “I have always wanted to explore those big big rooms, but you would not let me.”

“You will have your chance now,” Erlina said, “and Goodness knows what we may find.”

“I expect it is full of ghosts!” Gerry said. “If Tom comes to see me tomorrow, we will play Hide and Seek.”

Tom Garnet was about the same age as Gerry and looked pleased at the idea.

“I would like that,” he said. “May I go, Papa?”

“I can see no reason why not,” the Vicar replied.

Then he turned to Erlina.

“You had better not give Mr. Cranley too much of a shock,” he said, “so I will send Tom up to play with Gerry as soon as you are settled in.”

“I want to go too,” Tom said, who was little more than one year younger than Gerry.

“And me! And me!” Helen cried, who was only five.

“We shall all go later,” the Vicar promised, “but you must understand that we cannot go today.”

The children looked disappointed, but they were very obedient and respectful.

“I cannot come to see you this afternoon,” the Vicar said to Erlina, “as I have promised my wife that I will take her to the shop in the next village.”

He paused for a moment to clear his throat and then continued,

“But I will come tomorrow and then perhaps we can make arrangements as to how Gerry is to continue with his lessons.”

Erlina had been teaching her brother in the best way that she could. It was the Vicar, however, who had taught him Latin and arithmetic besides giving him an interest in literature.

It had been an excellent arrangement.

Erlina, however, was always uncomfortably conscious that they should be paying for his tuition.

As that was impossible, she could only express how grateful she was to the Vicar over and over again.

“I know that Gerry will have no difficulties in getting into Eton,” she had said only last week.

She had been wondering constantly how she would ever be able to find enough money to pay for the school fees.

She just hoped that by some miracle something would happen before next September and that was when he was due to take his entrance tests.

She had thought that the only possibility was to ignore the fact that the best pictures in the house were entailed onto Gerry’s son when he had one.

The Trustees, who were supposed to see that the pictures were not sold, had not called at Sherwood House to inspect them for over three years now.

They were getting old and it was a long journey for each of them to undertake.

‘It may be cheating,’ Erlina had said to herself, ‘but what is the point of a picture on the wall if Gerry is unable to go to Eton?’

She therefore renewed her efforts to teach him herself and she had been more grateful than ever to the Vicar for doing the same.

She could not help feeling that the large library that she knew Meldon Hall contained would be of tremendous help to Gerry with his studies if to nobody else.

She had never been in The Hall and her father had not been particularly friendly with the last Marquis.

He naturally met him occasionally on committees in the County and at social gatherings such as local Race Meetings.

But the Marchioness had considered that she was too grand to bother with people in the County. With, of course, the exception of the Lord Lieutenant.

She had therefore not included Sir Richard and Lady Sherwood in any of her parties or special occasions.

She had in fact spent more time in Meldon House in London than she did at Meldon Hall.

It was only the old Marquis who, during the last few years of his life, had stayed put in the country and refused to leave it.

Erlina could remember seeing the present Marquis, when he was a youth, riding through the village.

She had never met him and he was eight years older than she was.

This meant that, as she was now nineteen, he would be twenty-seven.

He was, she thought bitterly, old enough to know how to behave.

*

Climbing into the pony cart, Erlina and Gerry waved goodbye to the Garnets.

As Erlina drove up the mile long drive that led to Meldon Hall, she could not suppress a little thrill of excitement.

She had seen the building from a distance, but only because she had taken the liberty of riding a little way up the drive. As she peeped at the magnificent house it had seemed to her a mystery house simply because she had never been inside it to see for herself.

Her father and mother had not been in the least perturbed at not being accepted by the Meldons.

Lady Sherwood had had a very sweet and gentle disposition.

She had never said an unkind word about anybody and she was also somewhat shy and reserved. She had no desire to push herself onto people who she thought were more at home in London Society than in the country.

She was, however, an excellent rider, just as she had taught her children to be and she was happiest when she was riding with her husband over their own land.

In the winter they hunted with a small pack nearby that was certainly not smart enough for the Meldons.

When her mother was alive, Erlina had felt that the house was always filled with laughter and love.

Sometimes they had friends to stay, but most of the time they were alone and enjoying their own company

But there had always seemed to be more than enough to do and life was very amenable.

She had been only sixteen when her mother had died and then her father fell ill shortly afterwards.

It was then that the days had seemed long and the evenings more and more lonely.

When she and Gerry were finally alone, it was very frightening. By this time the village was dying too and she felt sometimes as if a great black cloud had descended over them.

It seemed to be coming closer and closer until she had the feeling that she herself would be swallowed up.

The cause of it, of course, was the appalling behaviour of the ‘Wicked Marquis’.