Barbara Cartland - Never Forget Love

Before she died she had taught her how to make the dishes that her father and Harry always enjoyed.

Potatoes, of course, were invaluable and roasted, fried, boiled or sautéed, they filled up the gap when a helping of meat, because it was so expensive, could not be very large.

“Is there any more, Nerissa?” Harry broke in on her thoughts.

“Yes, of course,” she replied.

She gave him everything that was still in the dish except for a spoonful, which she added to her father’s plate.

He was far away back in Elizabethan times and therefore eating automatically and, she often suspected, without the slightest idea of what he was actually putting into his mouth.

There was a new cottage loaf on the table and Harry cut himself a large slice to finish up the gravy.

“That was good,” he murmured with relish. “No one can cook rabbit like you, Nerissa. The rabbit they serve up at Oxford is quite inedible.”

His sister smiled at the compliment and, collecting the plates and the empty dish, she carried them into the kitchen.

She had been wise enough to make a filling pudding, knowing how much exercise Harry was taking and the sponge had risen light and golden.

All she had to do now was to pour over it the home-made strawberry jam that she had preserved last year and which, with the minute amount of cream she had managed to skim off the top of the milk, would make, as far as Harry was concerned, a well satisfying dish.

To finish the meal there was only a small piece of cheese left and Nerissa intended to go shopping this afternoon, but Harry had eaten much more than she expected at yesterday’s luncheon, which had been very much the same as today’s.

Having finished his portion of pudding, her father rose from the table.

“Will you excuse me, Nerissa, if I go back to my work?”

“No, Papa,” Nerissa said firmly. “You know you ought to take a little exercise first, so I suggest you walk to the end of the orchard and see how those new fruit trees we put in are coming along. We had to do something, if you remember, after we lost some of our most precious trees in the March gales.”

“Yes, of course,” her father agreed.

Then, as if he thought by hurrying, he would get an unwelcome task over quickly he went into the hall, picked up his old felt hat that was almost in tatters and walked out through the garden door into the sunshine.

Harry laughed.

“You bully him, you know, dearest sister.”

“But it is so bad for him to be cooped up in that stuffy study all day and all night.”

“It may be bad for his health, but it makes him happy.”

There was a pause before Nerissa said,

“I am not so certain about that. I often feel that he misses Mama so intensely that the only way he can forget her even for a short while is to concentrate almost fanatically on what he is writing.”

Her voice was soft and gentle as she spoke and Harry, looking at her, said perceptively,

“You miss Mama too.”

“Terribly,” Nerissa answered. “Nothing is the same without her. When you are away and Papa seems at times not even to know I exist, I feel as if I cannot bear it any longer.”

“I am sorry,” Harry said sympathetically. “I had no idea you felt like that and I suppose it is very selfish of me to have all the fun of being at Oxford while you slave away here.”

“I don’t mind ‘slaving’ as you call it,” Nerissa replied. “It is just that sometimes I never see a soul from one day to the next except, of course. when I go down to the village. They are very kind, but it is not the same as being with Mama or having her friends coming to see her.”

“No, of course not,” Harry agreed. “What has happened to them?”

“They were kind in their way after Mama died, but they wanted to talk to her not to a girl of seventeen, as I was then, and even when they were generous enough to ask me to a party of sorts I usually had no way of getting there and, worse still nothing to wear.”

Harry was silent for a moment.

Then he said,

“I have only another year at Oxford University and after that I will be able to earn some money and we shall all be in a better position. I suppose it would not be a sensible idea for me to leave before I achieve my degree?”

Nerissa gave a little cry.

“No, of course not! It is absolutely essential that you should stay your full time. A degree is very important. Of course it is.”

“I realise that and I have worked very hard this term. And my Tutor is very pleased with me.”

Nerissa walked round the table to put her arms round her brother’s neck and kissed him.

“I am very very proud of you,” she declared. “You are not to take any notice of me if I grumble. I am so lucky to have you home and, of course, to have Papa when he remembers that I exist! It is very ungrateful of me to ‘whine like old Mrs. Withers’.”

This was a local joke and Harry duly chuckled.

Then he put his arms round his sister’s waist and told her,

“I am going to try to think up some special treat for you, so you had better make yourself a new gown.”

“A new gown!” Nerissa exclaimed. “How do you think I can pay for one?”

“’Where there is a will there is a way’,” Harry replied lightly. “It is what Nanny always said and perhaps the best thing we can do is to have a day of fasting and the money we save will go on decking you out like the Queen of Sheba!”

“That is certainly an idea,” Nerissa laughed. “I can see exactly the sort of gown I should buy after such a gruesome sacrifice.”

“I tell you what I suggest – ” Harry began.

What he was going to say was forgotten because there came a loud and unexpected rat-tat on the front door.

Brother and sister looked at each other.

“Who can that be?” Harry asked. “Whoever it is they sound very impatient. So are you expecting the duns or the bailiff to confront you with an unpaid bill?”

“No, of course not,” Nerissa replied huffily.

She took off the apron she had worn while she was preparing and clearing the luncheon and walked from the dining room across the hall to the front door.

Harry did not move, but picked up a large crumb that had been left on the table and put it into his mouth.

Then he heard his sister give an exclamation that was almost a cry of astonishment.

As he rose to his feet, he heard Nerissa saying,

“It cannot be! But it is ! Delphine!”

“I thought you would be surprised to see me,” a sophisticated voice answered and Harry walked from the dining room into the hall to stare in astonishment at the woman who had just arrived.

She was dressed in the peak of fashion with a high-crowned bonnet trimmed with small ostrich feathers and its colour matched her gown, which was covered with a cape trimmed with fur.

She walked two steps further into the house and looking round commented,

“I had forgotten how small this was!”

“We thought you had forgotten us,” Harry said bluntly. “So how are you, Delphine, or is that an unnecessary question?”

Then the vision stopped still to stare at him, taking in with shrewd eyes his height, his looks and his untidily tied cravat.

“How you have grown, Harry,” she exclaimed.

“It is not surprising when you have not seen me for six years,” Harry replied. “And I must say, you look very ‘up to scratch’!”

“Thank you,” Delphine said with just a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

Then she carried on in a different tone that was almost brusque,

“I want to talk to you both and I suppose that there is somewhere where we can go to sit down?”

“Come into the drawing room,” Nerissa said. “It is unchanged and I am sure you will remember it.”