Magic From the Heart

by Barbara Cartland

  Although she thought that the Duke would laugh at her, she found a large piece of embroidery and used it to cover the back of the sofa, which was so torn that the stuffing showed.

  She had herself re-lit the fire, but had not removed the ashes from the night before as there was no shovel or bucket available.

  Now the room looked quite different from what it had and she hoped that the Duke would appreciate it.

  The curtains needed washing and the furniture polishing, but she dusted what she could.

  When the sun came through the windows, she thought as a sitting room that it was at least passable.

  She had just finished arranging the last vase, which was a small one, when she thought that she heard the Duke return. She had put in it the first rosebuds that peeped their way through the weeds in what had been the Rose Garden.

  She placed the vase on the Duke’s desk and hoped that he would be pleased when he saw it.

  When he came into the room, she looked up eagerly.

  “Good morning, Safina,” he said. “When I left you, you were snoring happily.”

  “I don’t snore,” Safina retorted and then realised that he was teasing her.

  “I was told that you had gone to the village,” she said.

  “I have carried out all your orders, Senior Partner,” he replied.

  “All of them?” Safina enquired.

  “There are three servants arriving later in the day. A footman for the hall, a competent young woman to work in the kitchen and another to look after you and, of course, obey your orders.”

  “Just three?” Safina questioned.

  “That is enough to begin with,” the Duke answered, “but I did ask Mr. Geary to find me two women who would come up every morning to gradually clean the whole house.”

  Safina laughed.

  “Poor things, that is certainly a Herculean task! And who is Mr. Geary?”

  “The most important man in the village,” the Duke replied. “He owns the only shop, which is also a Post Office, and his brother, who is next door, is the butcher.”

  The Duke smiled before he added,

  “He nearly had a stroke when I gave him twenty pounds of your money, but I still owe him quite a lot more.”

  “And Mr. Metcalfe?” Safina asked.

  “Carrying out your instructions,” the Duke said. “I sent a carriage to collect him and I reckon that he should be here early in the afternoon.”

  “That is splendid,” Safina said, “and I suppose you told him why he was wanted?”

  “I asked him to come here as soon as he possibly could since you need to see him urgently. I did not tell him that we were married, as I thought it would be too much of a shock.”

  ”I am sure it will be,” Safina said, “and I suppose we had better be frank about the whole thing.”

  She hesitated before adding,

  “Papa has always said that one should not lie to one’s Solicitor or one’s doctor.”

  “Your father is right,” the Duke answered. “At the same time it is a mistake for more people to know about us than is absolutely necessary.”

  “I agree with that,” Safina responded.

  The Duke looked around the study.

  “You have waved a magic wand,” he said. “I am sure that Mr. Metcalfe will be most impressed.”

  “I did it for you,” Safina pointed out, “so that you would not feel – so gloomy or so disagreeable.”

  Now she was teasing him and the Duke said,

  “What woman could refuse such a challenge? I mean, of course, to make a home on a desert island.”

  “It really does look better,” Safina said.

  “Very much better,” the Duke agreed, “and I have never thought of picking flowers for myself.”

  “There are not only flowers in the vases,” Safina said. “What else do you see there?”

  The Duke looked closely at the big vase filled with white and purple lilac and quite a number of leaves.

  He stared at them for a moment and then he exclaimed,

  “Of course, the Magic Tree!”

  “Exactly,” Safina said, “and since I am prepared to believe in it even if you are not – I am wearing some leaves here.”

  She touched the front of her chest, just between her breasts.

  The Duke remembered how exquisite they had looked when he had undressed her last night.

  And then because he thought that he was treading on forbidden ground, he said quickly,

  “If I do have some luck, I shall believe it is you and not the tree that has made the change.”

  “I hope that is true,” Safina replied. “There is another thing you have forgotten to tell me.”

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “If you have ordered any food.”

  “I have ordered enough to delight Mr. Geary. He is sending it all up in his cart with the young woman he has chosen to help Mrs. Banks, who he assures me is the best cook in the village.”

  Safina clapped her hands together.

  “Now things are really looking up.”

  “Thanks to you,” the Duke murmured.

  “Thanks, I believe, to the Magic Tree,” Safina replied, “so if you must define who is responsible for what, that is really thanks to you.”

  “I am perfectly prepared to accept the congratulations when the good luck occurs.”

  “You will do that after we have seen Mr. Metcalfe,” Safina said optimistically.

  She knew, the Duke thought, although he did not say so, that she was raising her hopes too high.

  *

  Later in the afternoon Mr. Metcalfe was driven away in the same carriage that had brought him to Wyn Park.

  Safina slipped her hand into the Duke’s as they waved goodbye at the front door and then said,

  “I told you the leaves were magic.”

  “I believe every word that has ever been said about them,” the Duke smiled.

  The meeting with Mr. Metcalfe had certainly been encouraging.

  When, after he had greeted Safina, she told him that she was married, he was astounded.

  “I understood,” he said, “from your father, Lady Safina, whom I saw only a week ago, that you were returning from Florence to take part in the Season and to make your curtsey to the Queen at Buckingham Palace.”

  Safina glanced at the Duke and to save her embarrassment he said,

  “We are going to tell you the truth about what has happened, Mr. Metcalfe, and I feel sure when you hear what we have to say, you will agree that it must remain a secret from everyone else except yourself.”

  He then proceeded to tell the Solicitor how the Countess had written to the Convent to have Safina brought back to England while her father was away.

  He related how she had been met at Dover by Mr. Carter and taken to an obscure Posting house. From there she was conveyed to Wyn Park, where she was married to him the moment she arrived.

  “You mean, Your Grace, that you had never met each other before?” Mr. Metcalfe asked incredulously.

  “We had never ever seen each other,” the Duke answered, “and the Countess threatened Lady Safina that if she did not agree to marry me, she would be placed in a lunatic asylum and no one might ever know where she was.”

  Mr. Metcalfe stared at him, amazed.

  “I can hardly believe what you are telling me, Your Grace.”

  “We can hardly believe it ourselves,” the Duke replied. “I need not go into details, but I, for my part, had to submit to the Countess’s blackmail because a lady’s reputation was involved.”

  He did not need to say any more.

  He knew by the expression in Mr. Metcalfe’s eyes that he had a very clear idea of the situation.

  “Now that I am married,” Safina chimed in, “you will understand, Mr. Metcalfe, that I wish to help His Grace to restore his house and free him from a multitude of debts that he has no means of meeting.”

  Mr. Metcalfe smiled and replied,


  “That should not be difficult, Your Grace. I am sure that your father – ”

  Safina put up her hand.

  “There is something else we have not told you, which is that my stepmother has made it clear that she will not allow my father to give me one penny of the fortune he inherited from my mother.”

  Mr. Metcalfe looked horrified.

  “As she is so young,” Safina went on, “she is determined to grasp everything possible into her own hands before my father dies, when, as you are well aware, my mother’s money becomes mine.”

  “But surely – ” Mr. Metcalfe began.

  “It’s no use,” Safina said. “Papa gives in to her because he is besotted by her and she is determined to prevent me from having any more than I possess already.”

  “That I know,” Mr. Metcalfe said, “is the thirty thousand pounds your mother left you, but you cannot touch the capital until you are twenty-five.”

  “Exactly,” Safina said, “and that is what I have told His Grace. But I have an idea and that is where we need your help.”

  She then told him how she planned to restore the house and make it as beautiful as it had been in the past and how she was sure they could attract a large influx of visitors who would pay for the privilege of going round it.

  Mr. Metcalfe was astonished, but he did not speak and Safina went on,

  “I also want to sell leaves from His Grace’s Magic Tree, which was planted by King Charles II.”

  “I have heard of that tree,” Mr. Metcalfe exclaimed.

  “You have?” the Duke asked in surprise.

  “One of my friends who was passing Wyn Park once was daring enough to go up the drive and look at your house from the outside.”

  He paused before continuing,

  “He had been told in the inn where he had taken luncheon about Your Grace’s tree and, as there seemed to be no one about, he helped himself to several leaves, which he was convinced brought him a great deal of unexpected luck.”

  Safina gave a cry of delight.

  “There you are!” she said to the Duke. “I know if we made small bunches of them to sell, we would make a fortune.”

  “I am prepared to believe everything,” the Duke said, “but I have the uncomfortable feeling that any money we obtain from the tree will be fairy gold.”

  “Nonsense,” Safina said, “it will be good solid gold, which Mr. Metcalfe will invest for us.”

  The Duke laughed and Mr. Metcalfe said,

  “It may be difficult to raise a loan as substantial as you require, Your Grace. At the same time even the banks and the moneylenders are influenced by the social status of their clients. Therefore I am hopeful that I shall be able to do something for you.”

  “Do you really mean that?” Safina exclaimed. “Oh, Mr. Metcalfe, I just knew that you would not fail me!”

  “It may not be a large enough loan to do everything you require,” Mr. Metcalfe said, “but at least if you begin by restoring a few rooms in the house, say the Picture Gallery, the ballroom, the library and perhaps one of the State bedrooms, it would be enough to attract the sightseers, whether they are English or foreigners.”

  Safina clasped her hands together.

  “It sounds too wonderful,” she said, “and if it seems to be a success, do you mean that we could extend the loan and, of course, save every penny we can to restore more and more rooms?”

  “That is what I advise,” Mr. Metcalfe said.

  He looked at the Duke as he spoke, who exclaimed,

  “I can hardly believe what I am hearing! After being in the depths of despair for so long, it’s difficult to believe that the sun is now shining.”

  “I will be frank with Your Grace,” Mr. Metcalfe said. “It would not be at all easy if people were not aware of the enormous fortune that Her Grace will inherit eventually.”

  He paused before adding somewhat sarcastically,

  “Even the Countess, extravagant though she is, could not manage to make any really deep inroads into the capital sum, which is continually increasing.”

  “I had no idea that this was general knowledge,” the Duke said somewhat stiffly.

  “People talk, Your Grace,” Mr. Metcalfe said, “and, whilst the Earl is very reticent on the subject, there is no one who in one way or another is not interested in money even if it belongs to someone else.”

  The Duke had to laugh.

  “That is true,” he answered.

  He rose from the chair where he was sitting and said,

  “Now, as you have cheered us up and made the future seem very much brighter than it has ever been before, I am going to fetch you some refreshment.”

  “I am sure that Banks or the footman will,” Safina suggested, “if you ring the bell.”

  The Duke looked at her and then he laughed.

  “I had forgotten that we had a footman,” he said, “and, as I bought a bottle of champagne in the village and carried it home myself, I was not expecting to be waited on.”

  “You will soon get used to the idea,” Safina said as she smiled.

  The Duke rang the bell.

  It was answered by Banks bringing in the bottle of champagne on a tray with three glasses.

  He set it down on a side table and poured out the wine.

  He handed a glass first to Safina, then one to Mr. Metcalfe and lastly to the Duke.

  As he did so, Safina thought that now that he had help and a new era was starting in the house, Banks really looked younger.

  She also thought that the good food they had eaten last night and what they had enjoyed at luncheon was already making a difference.

  She was quite sure that it was also affecting the Duke.

  He had certainly been much more cheerful and very charming to her all through the meal.

  ‘Thank You. God! Thank You!’ she said in her heart and it was a prayer.

  And because she was grateful as well to the Magic Tree, she touched the leaves and she could feel them soft against her skin.

  As she did so, she caught the Duke’s eye and was aware that he knew what she was doing.

  There was an expression in his eyes that made her suddenly feel shy and she blushed.

  Mr. Metcalfe sipped the champagne and, after he had drunk a little, he said,

  “When I received your message, Your Grace, it seemed strange that you should want me so urgently and then I thought that perhaps you were in need of money.”

  He paused before continuing,

  “I therefore brought with me, just in case you needed it, one hundred pounds in cash.”

  Safina gave a cry of delight.

  “Of course I want it and it was very clever of you, Mr. Metcalfe, to guess how necessary it is.”

  She looked at the Duke and added,

  “That will pay the bills in the village, but I think that you should ask Mr. Metcalfe to do something about the pensioners and, of course, give him all your other bills which must be paid as soon as we have the loan.”

  She saw the Duke’s lips tighten and thought that he was going to be difficult.

  She therefore went on quickly,

  “You have not explained to Mr. Metcalfe that we have gone into partnership over this matter. You supply the house, the pictures and all the other wonderful treasures that there are in this house, while for the moment I will find the money. Later our positions may easily be reversed.”

  “I think that is unlikely,” the Duke said, “but at the same time, Mr. Metcalfe, I would be extremely grateful if you could carry out my wife’s wishes.”

  “Leave everything to me,” Mr. Metcalfe said. “My partners and I have many other important clients as well as the Earl of Sedgewick and it is difficult for any bank to refuse us what we want.”

  He rose to his feet and put his empty glass down on the table.

  “Now, if you will excuse me,” he said, “I will go back to my office and start immediately on the task you have set me.”

  Safina was so excited tha
t she felt like flinging her arms around the Solicitor and kissing him.

  She had known him since she was a child and he was a very well preserved fifty-five years old.

  Instead, she said,

  “Thank you, thank you! My husband and I can never be grateful enough for your encouragement and your promise of help. Please let it be soon.”

  “I shall go to London tomorrow,” Mr. Metcalfe assured her, “and I hope that I shall have good news within three or four days.”

  Safina looked at the Duke and her eyes were shining like stars.

  Although for the moment he did not say anything, she thought that a burden had fallen from his shoulders. And she was certain that he was as thrilled as she was.

  They said goodbye to Mr. Metcalfe and watched the carriage that was taking him away until it vanished among the trees on the drive.

  “We have won!” Safina exclaimed. “Do you realise that we have just won a tremendous battle?”

  “It was our Waterloo,” the Duke said, “and you were Wellington!”

  “He would not have been very much use without his troops and his cannons behind him. That, my dear partner, is Wyn Park, which belongs to you.”

  “You have an answer for everything, Safina,” the Duke smiled.

  They walked back to the study and he poured himself another glass of champagne, while Safina’s was still half-full.

  “I am quite sure that I am dreaming,” he sighed.

  “Then we must be very careful not to wake up,” Safina replied, “and, as I refuse to wait for ‘the off’, I suggest that we now ride into the village and find what workmen there are to start on the house immediately, beginning, as Mr. Metcalfe suggested, with the Picture Gallery.”

  “Very well,” the Duke said, “but I do think that the hall must come first and the outside. Otherwise your sightseers will begrudge paying an entrance fee before they reach the Picture Gallery.”

  “Of course you are right,” Safina concurred. “Oh, do get the horses and let’s make sure that the workmen are here first thing tomorrow morning.”

  The Duke laughed.

  Because she was so enthusiastic and eager and it was actually what he wanted himself, he agreed.

  He had not changed from his riding clothes, so he did as Safina suggested and went towards the stables.