Barbara Cartland - This Is Love

“That was actually very sensible of them,” Mrs. Beckwith replied.

“Not at all,” Athina retorted. “It was just sheer greed. They were afraid that I would be pursued by endless fortune-hunters who would somehow contrive to get their hands on money that might otherwise have been theirs.”

“Now you are being cynical,” Mrs. Beckwith demurred. “You are too young, dearest, and far too beautiful to look at the world through anything except for rose-coloured glasses.”

During that time she taught Athina as if she was a Governess and he lessons had proved an enormous success.

Mrs. Beckwith was an extraordinarily clever Teacher and Athina enjoyed travelling with her in thought and imagination as she hoped one day to travel in reality.

Athina’s father had died just before she was eighteen and she was now a very well-educated and intelligent young woman.

The Earl had arranged for her to be presented at Court to Queen Victoria and to have her first Season in London.

But, as she was plunged immediately into deep mourning, it was obviously impossible that summer.

This year, however, the family had agitated her and arranged that she should go to London at the beginning of May.

This was now just about two weeks ahead and Athina was already wondering if she really wished to leave the beautiful countryside.

“I love being here when there are primroses in the hedgerows and daffodils in the Park,” she told Mrs. Beckwith. “I cannot believe that anything in London could be any more entrancing.”

“You know just as well as I do,” Mrs. Beckwith replied, “that you have to meet charming young gentlemen, dance every night at a ball and fulfil your dear father’s dream that you will be the ‘Belle of the Season’.”

Athina laughed.

“Papa wanted me to be that because it would be a compliment to him. He always behaved as if he had created me.”

“Which, of course, he indeed had!” Mrs. Beckwith smiled. “If he was here now, I would certainly congratulate him!”

Athina laughed again.

“I have the uncomfortable feeling that both you and my Papa are going to be disappointed. What will happen is that the young men I meet will think I am a ‘blue stocking’ and avoid me like the plague!”

Mrs. Beckwith put her head on one side and contemplated her pupil.

“I have actually wondered about it myself,” she confessed. “You must, Athina, be intelligent enough to let the man always know best, especially when he is wrong.”

Athina threw up her hands.

“I refuse! I absolutely refuse! If they will say something stupid, as some of Papa’s friends used to do, I shall just find it impossible not to correct them.”

“In which case you will have to come back home and talk to the primroses and the daffodils,” Mrs. Beckwith warned her.

“And, of course, you, dearest Becky,” Athina then added. “I love talking to you and that reminds me that the new book on the Universe has just arrived and we must both read it tonight.”

The library at Murling Park was already packed with new books and Athina was far more interested in them than in the clothes that she had been buying to take to London with her.

She had wanted to rent a house in Mayfair and stay there on her own with Mrs. Beckwith.

But there was such an outcry from her relations at the idea that she agreed instead to stay with one of her more amenable aunts.

This particular aunt of hers was married to one of the Gentlemen-in-Waiting at Buckingham Palace and so she had the right entrée to all the important functions there.

Mrs. Beckwith had agreed that she would stay in the country at Murling Park and Athina knew that she would miss her dreadfully.

She was still feeling rather dubious as to what she would find in the Social world.

How could it compare with the joy of owning the finest stables in the country?

There were her father’s finest horses still stabled at Newmarket and it had been impossible while she was in mourning to attend Race Meetings or indeed any public gathering or any sort.

Queen Victoria had set the fashion for long-drawn-out and over-emphasised black mourning after she lost had her most beloved Prince Albert in 1861.

Athina had therefore been confined to Murling Park and it had not troubled her in the slightest.

She missed her father so much, it would have been impossible for her not to do so.

But Mrs. Beckwith was an amusing and delightful companion.

The many horses, Athina often thought to herself, compensated for having no young men to talk to.

She looked so lovely as she rode off on some spirited stallion that she quickly had under her control that Mrs. Beckwith would watch her and sigh.

Athina was exquisite with her golden curls that had a touch of red in them.

Her grey eyes were unusual.

In fact she had a unique beauty that made her different from all other girls of her age.

It was, Mrs. Beckwith knew well, the reason why she had been Christened Athina after the Greek Goddess.

From the moment she was born she acquired a loveliness that few other babies had.

‘I wonder what will happen to her?’ Mrs. Beckwith asked herself as Athina trotted off down the drive, her sylph-like figure silhouetted against the darkness of the trees.

The way she rode reminded her of Diana the Huntress.

Now Athina drove her horses into a large courtyard of the Posting inn where there were several carriages of different styles parked at one end.

This meant that the horses had already been taken into the stables and their owners had gone into the inn.

“Don’t forget that I am ‘Mrs. Beckwith’,” Athina warned Gauntlet as she drew the horses to a standstill. Gauntlet then opened the door of the chaise.

Athina stepped out and, as an ostler came hurrying towards them, she said,

“We have urgent need of a blacksmith as we have had an accident to a wheel. I hope that there is one available here or nearby.”

“That ’e was just a few minutes ago,” the ostler replied.

“Please fetch him quickly for me,” Athina urged him.

The ostler hurried off and she turned and smiled at Gauntlet. Then she walked towards the entrance of the inn.

Inside the proprietor was standing inside the low-ceilinged hall and, having appraised the newcomer, he bowed politely to Athina.

“Can I be of help to you, ma’am,” he asked.

“I have had an accident to a wheel of my chaise,” Athina replied.

The proprietor looked at her quizzically as she went on.

“And so I am hoping that your blacksmith can mend it, but as it is now getting late I must stay the night”

“I’ll be able to accommodate you, ma’am,” the proprietor nodded.

“I would like your best bedroom,” Athina said. “My luggage is at the back of the chaise and I also require a room for my groom.”

“That’ll be seen to immediately,” the proprietor promised her.

He sent a porter scurrying to collect Athina’s luggage and then an elderly housemaid in a mob cap was called to show her upstairs.

The stairs were of oak and uncarpeted but well-polished.

The bedroom Athina was shown into was comfortable although, of course, not luxurious. It was on the first floor, which indicated to her that there was nothing better in the inn.

She told the maid that it would suit her and she would be staying for only one night.

“Are you busy at the moment?” Athina asked conversationally as they waited for the porter to bring up the luggage.

“We’ve a number of gentlemen stayin’ on their way ’ome from the Races, ma’am,” the maid replied, ‘but otherwise things be a bit dull around ’ere.”

The porter brought in Athina’s small trunk, which was all she had required for the one night stay with her aunt.