The Importance of Love (2 page)

“No,” asserted the Countess quietly. “London is the first place that Connolly will come looking for us. No, we shall outfox him by detouring to Cornwall and then, from there, we shall travel North as soon as I feel that the coast is clear.”

“Why Cornwall, Aunt?”

“I have a very dear friend who lives just outside Bude whom I have not seen in many years. I have already written to her saying to expect us. Frank Connolly is not an easy man to shake off – an obsessed man never is. I shall not rest until we are on the boat and I am certain he is not on board.”

Upon arriving the driver opened the door for them and Luella saw a porter scurrying towards them with a trolley for their cases.

“Yes, the sooner we reach Calais, the better,” she agreed, following their luggage. “I so hope we have now shaken off Frank Connolly for good!”

*

“Very well, Kennington – I'll see you.”

The red-haired man with the neatly clipped moustache drew heavily on his cigar and held his cards close to his face as the smoke curled upwards. Opposite him, David, the Viscount Kennington, sighed and threw his cards down on the table.

“A pair of sevens,” he said in disgust as his fellow player scooped up the pile of coins and notes from the centre of the table. “I'm out, old man.”

“What, you are quitting?” “I am afraid so, Chalmers,” sighed Viscount Kennington, rising from his chair. He swept his hand over his thick black hair and stretched out his long muscular arms.

The tie around his neck remained loose as he gathered up the small pile of coins next to him. He stood up and retrieved his jacket from the back of the chair.

“Another night, maybe, your luck will be better,” said Lord Chalmers.

“I have lost all heart for the card tables of late,” replied the Viscount wearily.

“Nonsense, man. You have just had a bad run of luck that is all. You should try another game next time.”

The Viscount smiled thinly and adjusted his necktie. It was two o'clock in the morning and he was tired. He hoped that his driver had not fallen asleep outside in Hanover Square.

“Goodbye, then, Kennington. Will I see you at the Reform next weekend? Bit of a beano with the Straffords – their son and heir is getting married.”

“I will see. Goodnight, Chalmers.”

“Goodnight, Kennington, and do not disappoint us! Strafford will be dashed upset if you do not put in an appearance.”

The Viscount smiled at him through the cigar smoke and buttoned his jacket. He strode towards the exit with a lithe grace that pointed to a fondness for athletics in his youth.

At Cambridge he had been the star of the rugby team as well as a champion oarsman.

But those days were long gone, as was his passion for architecture that had taken him to the university in the first place.

Many of his tutors had hoped he would become a very successful architect, but since returning to London he had idled his time away in the gaming houses and gentlemen's clubs of the Capital.

There were so many distractions once the Season started – and then there was the Gaiety Theatre with its beautiful and available women.

The Viscount had disappointed his father by showing no signs of continuing the family line by entering into the state of marriage. In fact, he had done everything in his power to avoid it.

“I do not ascribe much importance to love,” he had told his companions, one evening around the dining table at Lord Cheshunt's house. “One should take one's pleasures naturally. But marriage? It is for fools who have no choice in the matter.”

There had been much sage nodding of heads around the table of assorted Lords, Earls and Baronets, all of whom had made ‘good marriages', but who inevitably found amusement in the arms of women other than their wives.

Climbing into his carriage, the Viscount yawned and was glad that the journey from Hanover Square to South Audley Street would be a swift one. He longed for the comfort of his bed in the house that his modest income had bought him.

‘If only Father had not decided to punish me,' he thought.

The Viscount felt upset that his father had effectively curtailed his hopes of renovating and remoulding a derelict property that Lord Chalmers had told him about.

After he had refused to marry the heiress to the Merriott fortune, his father had shown his displeasure by cutting his allowance and forbidding the Viscount's grandfather from intervening and supplementing his favourite grandson's income.

“Grandpapa has always been keen for me to resurrect my career in architecture and that house Chalmers mentioned would have been just the thing,” he murmured out loud. “Perhaps I should pay him a visit tomorrow and see if I can persuade him to help me out. What Father does not know cannot hurt him!”

With hope dawning in his heart, he settled back in his carriage and allowed the rocking movement to lull him to sleep. By the time they arrived at South Audley Street, he felt happier than he had done in weeks.

*

The next morning, Hoskin, the Viscount's valet, shaved him and helped him dress.

“Will you be requiring breakfast, my Lord?”

“Not today, Hoskin. I intend to call upon my grandfather. Some hot coffee is all I need.”

As soon as Hoskin had finished attending to him, the Viscount gulped down a cup of coffee and put on his hat and a light jacket as the weather was warm and fine.

His mind was very much on the property that Chalmers had told him was up for sale – an almost derelict, Jacobean mansion on the outskirts of Buckingham with plenty of land and a river running through it.

‘This would give me the opportunity to prove to myself that I am still capable of producing wonderful and modern designs,' he told himself, as he tipped his hat to Lady Castleford who passed by in her open landau on her way to Hyde Park.

He quickened his pace as he approached Grosvenor Place.

‘I do hope that Grandfather will be able to give me the funds I require,' he thought, striding swiftly along Grosvenor Crescent to the imposing house in the far corner of Belgrave Square. He was soon ringing the ornate brass doorbell and waiting for Bates, his grandfather's butler, to open the door.

The heavy door swung open and Bates greeted him robustly.

“My Lord! His Grace will be delighted to see you. He is in the dining room having his breakfast. Shall I set out another place for you?”

“That would be excellent, Bates. Thank you.” He walked towards the dining room and entered without waiting for Bates to announce him. The Marquis of Alderberry was busy taking the top off his egg and sighing over a headline in the newspaper.

“David. How nice to see you,” he exclaimed. “Bally nonsense, this Boer War,” he added, indicating the newspaper in front of him. “It's all boiling up again.”

The Viscount sighed,

“I have no interest in military matters. Some of my Cambridge chums are out there and they write to me saying the whole affair is beastly.”

He sat down in the chair that Bates had pulled out for him.

His grandfather was fond of a large breakfast and as usual there was a tasty selection of dishes keeping hot on the buffet.

“What will you have, my Lord?”

“Kedgeree and toast, please, Bates.”

“Now, to what do I owe this honour, young man? You do not usually grace me with your presence so early. I suspect that something, or someone, has precipitated this visit.”

The Viscount laughed fondly.

“You are as sharp as ever, Grandfather. Yes, there is something I wish to discuss with you.”

“Well, ask away,” said the old man with a smile.

“Grandfather, I will be blunt. I need a considerable sum of money to invest in a derelict property that I have been tipped off has just become available. My thoughts are that this is a project I could really throw myself into.”

“You are thinking of putting to good use all your learning at Cambridge?”

“Yes, I have grown tired of my life and think it is time that I revived my interest in architecture. Teddy Chalmers says that the location is wonderful and there is a great deal of potential for a man with an entrepreneurial spirit.”

“That is to be admired, David, and I am glad that you are keen to engage yourself on such a worthy project, but I am afraid that your father has tied my hands when it comes to releasing funds to you.”

“I know he has said not to give me anything, but surely he cannot tell you what to do with your own money?” asked the Viscount forking over his kedgeree.

“My son is a very wilful and stubborn man. He has tied up my liquid assets and there is nowhere near the amount of cash available that you would need. I am sorry, David, if I could help you, I would. Your father is still very angry with you over that dashed Merriott girl.”

The Viscount put down his fork, having lost all his appetite.

“
Father
,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “He complains that I live a wasted life and then, when I seek to knuckle down and make a name for myself, he puts obstacles in my path.”

“He will not bend, David, and I am so sorry I cannot help you. Is there anyone else you can ask?”

“Not for such a large sum, Grandfather. It would not be right. And the bank is under Father's sway and will not loan me such an amount. He has effectively handcuffed me until I agree to marry.”

“That is a pity, David,” sighed the Marquis. “I shall speak with him on your behalf, but I would not hold out a great deal of hope that he might change his mind. Once set, even the Almighty himself could not budge him from his path!”

The Viscount drained his cup of coffee and threw down his napkin.

“It is such a shame and it will be a great opportunity missed,” he said. “And now, I should leave you in peace. Is Grandmama in?”

“No, she is staying at friends in Brighton and will not be returning until later today.”

“Then send her my love. I shall detain you no longer.”

He rose and shook his grandfather's hand solemnly and Bates was ready waiting for him with his hat.

The Viscount decided to go for a stroll in Green Park and began to make his way towards Buckingham Palace, but he had not gone far when he saw none other than his father striding towards him.

Taking a deep breath, the Viscount prepared himself for the inevitable confrontation. Relations were very strained between father and son and he knew it would not be an easy encounter.

The Earl halted for a moment as he caught sight of his son coming towards him. He rolled up his newspaper with a decisive gesture and walked forwards with a grim expression upon his face.

“David,” he said halting by him. “What are you doing here?”

“I have been to see Grandfather,” he answered, waiting for the inevitable burst of anger. His father did not disappoint him.

“You did
what
?” he raged, turning red in the face. “I told you to keep away from him with your begging bowl, you ingrate!”

“But, Father, I had hoped to resurrect my career as an architect and had found a property to show off my abilities to everyone – ”

The Earl grabbed his son by the arm and began to frogmarch him back in the direction of Belgrave Square.

“Now you will come with me and apologise for bothering him.”

“Father, I do wish you would not treat me like a child,” pleaded the Viscount, as he shrugged off his father's grip.

He would be thirty at his next birthday, yet his father still behaved as if he was a ten-year-old. And, being an only child, he bore the brunt of his father's expectations and plans for the Kennington family.

‘I wish Mama was still alive,' he thought, as he was led back to his grandfather's house. ‘She always used to stand up for me.'

But his mother had died not long after he had graduated from Cambridge. She had fallen ill with typhoid after working with the poor in the East End of London and not being very strong, she succumbed to death within weeks of being infected.

They soon arrived back at the Marquis's house. Bates was shocked to see the Earl and the Viscount standing on the doorstep.

Without waiting for him to speak, the Earl barged his way past him with a resigned-looking Viscount following behind.

“Father!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

The old Marquis shuffled into the hall with his newspaper still in his hand. He looked as if he had only just finished his breakfast.

“David,” he called, for the Earl's name was the same as his son's.

“Father, I was on my way to visit you when I found this miscreant in the street, sneaking away from your house. I have told him frequently not to bother you and I am most displeased that he has disobeyed me.”

“David, if you will only listen to the boy. He has a chance to make something of himself and bring glory to the family name.”

“Rubbish! He came seeking money for the gaming houses. Don't think I am such a fool that I do not know where he spends most of his time. You did not believe what he said, surely?”

“But, Father, what Grandfather says is true. Teddy Chalmers has tipped me off about an old place that could be just right to show off my skills.”

“What a waste of time that would be! How you scraped through Cambridge is beyond me. And I have paid the price in more ways than one.”

“David, I don't think we should be raking up the past again. The boy did not wish to marry the Merriott girl for good reasons.”

“And I lost out on a great deal of money and a lucrative business partnership because he did not snap her up. The silly young fool! United our two families would have been the most powerful force in the land.”

“But I did not wish to get married, Father.”

“We are not put on this earth as the ruling class so that we may choose when and whom we marry,” he snapped angrily. “There are more important considerations such as loyalty to one's family. Considerations that you appear to have forgotten in your selfish life.”