Read The Importance of Love Online

Authors: Barbara Cartland

Tags: #Romance

The Importance of Love (6 page)

BOOK: The Importance of Love
2.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“It does, thank you.”

“We have some fine local lamb and vegetables from the garden for tonight's meal. It is overgrown, but we manage to get by on what remains to be cropped. It used to be a beautiful place when Madame was alive, but it has become overgrown and neglected since she passed away.”

“I intend to breathe new life into every part of this building,” the Viscount announced looking up at the ceiling with its obvious signs of damp.

A large crack ran along the width of the room and the wooden chandelier contained burned-down stumps of candles.

“That is good news, indeed, my Lord. Now, when you are ready, shall I send Hoskin up to attend to you?”

“I would like that very much, thank you.”

“When would you like to view the house, my Lord? Either myself or Mrs. Cork will show you around.”

“I think before dinner. Then I will look around again in the morning.”

“You are a draughtsman, are you, my Lord? We saw the drawing board being carried in and thought you might be an artist until we saw the size of it.”

“I am an architect, or at least, I was. I intend to make this house magnificent again for all of Society to flock to.”

“Madame would have liked that,” smiled Cork enigmatically.

He bowed and left the room. The Viscount's luggage was brought in and left for Hoskin to unpack.

As soon as he had finished, he drew the Viscount a bath with hot water in cans brought up by the maids who had arrived ahead of them.

“I hope your Lordship does not mind having to bathe in such an ancient vessel,” remarked Hoskin, as the last of the hot water was poured into the huge enamel bath.

“I shall install modern bathrooms with running water as soon as possible. I shall investigate installing both heating and hot water. Tomorrow, I shall invite the builders to call. Have you a list of the local tradesmen for me as I requested?”

“Oh, yes, my Lord. Cork has been most helpful. He says that now word is out that you are to remodel the house, there will be no stopping them from calling on the off-chance of work.”

“That is indeed good news.”

The Viscount eased his body into the hot water and as he soaped his aching muscles his thick hair fell forward and soon became damp with suds.

Stretching out his long arms, he lay back in the water and closed his eyes.

‘Already I can see what this house could be,' he told himself, ‘and it shall rise from the ashes.'

Much later, after a delicious dinner, he retired early intending to sleep, but found it impossible.

He tossed and turned in the bed, which, although comfortable, was a strange one nevertheless. He resolved to bring his own bed from London, as he did not fancy sleeping on a mattress that had once borne his grandfather and his mistress.

As the house grew quiet, the room became chilly and he found himself still wide awake. Eventually, he climbed out of bed and put on his warm dressing gown.

Pacing the room, he became enthused with thoughts of how he might plan the house. He picked up his sketch book in which he had made a few drawings and looked at them again with the benefit of having now seen the house for himself.

‘The orangery will not work there,' he muttered, striking it out on the sketch. ‘And it might yet be possible to add another floor here.'

Before he knew it, he had picked up his pencil and was busy redrawing the plan. He worked on and on through the night and did not notice the passing of time.

When Hoskin came in early the next morning with a tray, he was shocked to see his Master up and busy.

“My Lord. You look as if you haven't been to sleep.”

“Indeed, I have not,” replied the Viscount, wearily rubbing his face with one strong hand. “I could not sleep in that bed and once my mind began to form plans and designs for this place, I found I was too restless for slumber. And so, I got up and began to work.

“Hoskin, will you have my work things set up in the library for me after breakfast? I cannot work here indefinitely and will need a place to go where I will not be disturbed by maids.”

“Of course, my Lord,” replied Hoskin, handing him a cup of tea.

Later, after breakfast was over, the Viscount hurried eagerly into the library to begin work.

‘It is a good deal shabbier than I had first thought. This is going to tax my ingenuity,' he murmured, as he sharpened his pencil and took out a fresh sheet of paper, feeling once more that familiar thrill of tackling a new design.

‘But, yes, I think I shall be very happy here.'

And a slow smile spread across his handsome face as he began to draw.

*

“Are you certain we are heading in the right direction, driver?” asked Luella, as the carriage they had hired at Southampton began to climb uphill.

The Countess groaned and looked even paler than earlier that morning.

Luella had entreated her to stay awhile longer in Southampton, but she would not hear of it. And now she was looking worse with each passing mile.

Furthermore, she was losing confidence in their driver to take them to their destination. He had been forced to turn the horses round once already as they had taken a wrong road, having passed through Okehampton, he had not heeded the sign to Bude and was now haring off in the direction of Great Torrington.

Although Luella did not have a map or a compass, she was concerned as she now believed they were heading due North. She had a good sense of direction and North was where Scotland and home lay.

And now with the sun moving off to their left every fibre in her body was screaming that they were on the wrong road.

“Oh,” moaned Aunt Edith, as the carriage hit a rock in the road and jolted.

“Aunt. Do you wish us to stop?” The Countess nodded and Luella leaned out of the window and shouted to the driver to stop. She helped her aunt out for some fresh air.

As she stood quivering with nausea by the roadside, Luella was furious with the man. She put her aunt back inside and rounded on him.

“Do you actually know where we are?” she cried with her pale-blue eyes flashing dangerously.

The driver hung his head and mumbled,

“I's sorry, miss, but I don't know these 'ere parts.”

“You said you knew the way to Bude.”

“Sorry, miss. I be lost.”

“You fool. My aunt is ill and she is getting worse by the moment. We really must stop very soon. I had hoped to be in Cornwall before dark and now it seems unlikely. Take us to the nearest town and ask for directions to a hotel – and hurry.”

The driver looked suitably ashamed and crawled back onto his box. Luella shut the carriage door forcefully and sat down with a noisy exhalation of breath.

“The man is an idiot,” she muttered, as her aunt sat huddled under a blanket. “I have asked him to stop at the next town so that we might find somewhere to stay. Can you last that long?”

“I shall try,” replied her aunt wearily. “I don't think we can make it to Cornwall tonight, however.”

“No, you are right,” answered Luella, watching the sun sink in the sky.

The carriage rattled on down the country road and Luella felt tense as she watched her aunt become paler and paler.

After having searched Great Torrington for a hotel only to find nothing suitable, they were just going over a rather rickety wooden bridge when the carriage wheel hit a pothole and was thrown up in the air.

Although it landed safely without overturning, Aunt Edith let out a cry and fainted onto the floor of the carriage.

“Aunt! Aunt!” cried Luella, rushing to pick her up. But the Countess was too heavy for her and she had to call to the driver for help.

“I be sorry, miss. Couldn't help the hole,” he said shame-faced as they hauled the Countess back into her seat.

“Just get us to a hotel quickly! Where are we?”

“I'll stop at the next inn and ask, miss.”

The next inn, however, was not for miles and by now, it was almost dark.

The carriage passed a sign saying ‘
Bideford one mile
' and Luella instructed the driver to head in that direction.

But in Bideford, everywhere was as dead as a grave. They crossed a bridge over a wide river and then Luella saw it. High on the hill overlooking the riverbank was a large and elegant house.

‘It could be a hotel or it could be a private house,' she conjectured. ‘In any case, it must belong to someone of importance so I shall have to throw myself on their mercy. Perhaps they will be able to direct us to a suitable place to stay. Aunt Edith cannot continue for much longer in this carriage without collapsing.'

She ordered the driver to proceed through the iron gates and up the winding drive towards the house.

By now the sky overhead was dark and the wind rustled through the trees, making them appear forbidding and gloomy.

‘I hope they are not, as some country folk are, suspicious of strangers or worse, half mad,' Luella murmured to herself.

As they drew nearer, she could see that the house was in a rundown state and her heart sank. She noted the missing windowpanes and the rusting ironwork.

The driver opened the carriage door and Luella stepped down, her heart racing.

“Wait here,” she ordered firmly, as she walked towards the oak front door.

‘Well,' she said to herself. ‘I must be brave and enquire – there is no other nearby house and it does look as if someone is at home. There is a candle burning in that downstairs window.'

Lifting up the huge knocker, she let it fall, then took two steps back and waited as the hollow sound reverberated through the depths of the shabby building.

CHAPTER FOUR

Inside Torr House Cork wearily walked towards the front door.

All afternoon the steady stream of curious visitors to Torr House had not ceased. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to meet the new owner, who, gossip said, was the grandson of the old Marquis who used to visit his ‘Frenchwoman' there.

And every other person came to offer their services.

“We've 'eard that the Frenchwoman's house is to be sold,” they started.

“No, it is not. His Lordship intends to live in it.”

“Is he really knocking it down? T'would be a shame if he were,” said others.

Cork fervently hoped that this latest caller would not demand to see inside the house or to ‘have a word' with the Viscount, for he had given strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed in the library where he was working.

Never had Cork seen such dedication.

“If it were up to his Lordship, the whole place would be rebuilt by the end of the week,” he jokingly told his wife.

Cork opened the heavy door and was surprised to find a very attractive young lady. By her clothes he judged that she was not a local and viewed her with interest.

“Good afternoon, miss,” he said politely.

“I am so sorry to trouble you,” began Luella. “But my aunt, the Countess of Ridgeway, is ill and we cannot find a hotel and our coachman is lost. I wondered if you might be able to direct us?”

Cork cast a glance towards the carriage.

Although the young lady on the doorstep seemed genteel enough, he noted that she and her aunt were travelling in a hired coach. He hesitated as he tried to think of somewhere they could stay.

He knew there was a large cattle market and fair on the next day that people from miles around would visit.

Inevitably all the hotels would be full.

“Would you wait here awhile, Miss – ?”

“Ridgeway. Luella Ridgeway,” answered Luella anxiously.

As Cork went off to consult his wife, the Viscount emerged from the library.

“Who is that at the door?” he asked looking extremely tired. He hoped that it was not another person claiming to be a close friend of his grandfather's whom he would have to ask Cork to turn away.

“A young lady, my Lord. She is travelling with her sick aunt and they are lost. The aunt is the Countess of Ridgeway, as the young lady claims and they are travelling in a common hired carriage.”

Intrigued the Viscount moved up the hall and the sight he glimpsed through the open door made his heart skip a beat.

There on his doorstep was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Her fair hair framed her face like wispy clouds while her pale-blue eyes darted around nervously. Her whole demeanour was one of someone in need of rescuing and it appealed to his masculine instincts to come to her aid.

“Show her in, Cork.”

“My Lord?”

“Don't stand there, man. Show her in.”

Utterly shocked, Cork retraced his steps to the front door and threw it open.

“His Lordship has asked that you enter,” he intoned with raised eyebrows. “Thank you very much,” sighed Luella, hoping that this nobleman was kind and that they would soon be on their way.

The hall somewhat surprised Luella. Although the house had undoubtedly once been grand, everywhere were signs of neglect.

‘Yet, this man who approaches looks every inch the fine Lord,' she said to herself, as the Viscount came towards her with his hand outstretched.

“Miss Ridgeway? I am David Kennington. Welcome to my home. I hear you are lost and that your aunt is unwell.”

“Yes, she is in the carriage outside. I was hoping to find a hotel where we might stay before continuing our journey. We were on our way to Bude in Cornwall and our fool of a driver took the wrong turn and we ended up on the Bideford road. We have been travelling in Europe and I am not familiar with this part of the country.”

“They will not find anywhere tonight, my Lord,” said Cork, who was standing nearby. “The cattle market and fair is on tomorrow.”

“Then, you must stay here,” exclaimed the Viscount.

“Although I confess that the house is not as it should be. I only arrived here yesterday to find it in a state of disrepair.”

“There is the blue room and the river room, my Lord. They have been unaffected by the damp,” suggested Cork suddenly. “Madame's visitors stayed there and they are most comfortable. Mrs. Cork and I made certain that they were ready to occupy as we did not know how many people to expect.”

BOOK: The Importance of Love
2.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Seven For a Secret by Judy Astley
Throb (Club Grit) by Jaxsen, Brooke
The Working Poor by David K. Shipler
Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening by Von Werner, Michael, Felix Diroma
Broken Crowns by Lauren DeStefano
Love Redeemed by Sorcha Mowbray