Lucky in Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “I know you are thinking that Papa should not have taken us to a mining town, but that was where he could make more money than anywhere else. He was saving every penny he could to take Mama to Florida because he thought that a warmer climate – would make her better.”

  Although he did not wish at this moment to seem curious, Lord Harleston could not help asking,

  “Was there no other way that your father could make money?”

  He thought as he asked the question that Nelda’s eyes would flash at him as they had done before.

  But, as she finished tying his bandage, she said with a little smile,

  “It was a question Papa said that he asked himself over and over again and he always added,

  “‘Unfortunately I was brought up to be a gentleman! You may not believe it, my dearest, living in this country, but in England gentlemen are not supposed to work’.”

  Lord Harleston recognised that this was true and he commented,

  “It was your father’s own choice to come to America.”

  “He thought it would be an adventure,” Nelda answered, “and also somewhere where he could be with Mama and escape the anger of your family and hers that they had run away together.”

  “It certainly caused a great deal of criticism at the time.”

  “They knew that, but how could they help being in love with each other? They were so blissfully happy and nothing else mattered, not even being very – poor.”

  There was a rapt little expression on Nelda’s face as once again she was busying herself preparing the eggs for the omelette.

  “So your father made his living by playing cards.”

  Lord Harleston tried to make it sound like a statement rather than a criticism and, as if he succeeded, Nelda answered,

  “Papa said once that it was the only talent the Almighty had given him and we are instructed in the Bible not to bury our talents but to use them.”

  “Even so, as you have just said, you were sometimes very poor.”

  “Very – very – poor,” Nelda replied, “especially when those who owed Papa money would not pay him.”

  Lord Harleston thought that must have been a frequent hazard considering the type of people Handsome Harry played against.

  Aloud he said,

  “That must have been extremely frustrating.”

  “It was, but Papa was very lucky on the whole, although once he even had to pawn – Mama’s Wedding ring when we had nothing else.”

  She gave a little sigh and added, almost as if she spoke to herself,

  “But Papa always made us laugh even in the darkest days. And when things went right, he would come home with his pockets full, fling the money down on the table and then dance around the room with Mama and it always made everything seem so – wonderful!”

  The way she spoke was very moving. Then because she had started to recall the past tears came into her eyes and Lord Harleston suggested quickly,

  “If you are going to make that omelette now, I will see if there is a loaf of bread in the cupboard and toast some slices by the fire for us.”

  “That would be very nice,” Nelda agreed.

  Lord Harleston found a loaf, a knife and also a large pat of newly churned butter, which he supposed had been made from milk from the cows that the Indians must have stolen.

  He carried it to the table where the oil lamp was standing, while Nelda put a saucepan on the fire and placed two plates on top of the stove to warm.

  Lord Harleston put a slice of bread on the point of the knife and toasted it as he had done when he was a fag at Eton.

  He had toasted three slices before Nelda said that the omelette was now ready and placed three quarters of it in front of him.

  He ate it appreciatively saying,

  “You are quite right. You are a very good cook.”

  “I can cook quite elaborate dishes when I have the ingredients,” Nelda answered, “and, if we have to stay here for a long time, I will try to vary the menu.”

  “I shall enjoy that, but at the same time, I shall feel relieved when we are rescued.”

  They both ate in silence until Nelda said as if it had been in her thoughts for some time,

  “I-I suppose there was – nothing we could have done to – save the men in the wagons – and your valet?”

  “I shall miss Portman,” Lord Harleston replied, “but there was nothing we could have done except get killed ourselves and that, you must agree, would have been very foolish.”

  “At least you would not have had to – bother about me in the – future.”

  Lord Harleston realised as she spoke that she was still thinking that he hated her and that he had no wish to be responsible for her in any way.

  He looked at her across the table and realised that she was very different from what he had originally expected.

  In the light from the oil lamp with her fair hair falling over her shoulders as she ate made her look very entrancing and indeed rather like a nymph who had just stepped out of a Fairytale.

  “I have not forgotten that you saved my life, Nelda,” he said in his deep voice, “and for that I owe you a great debt of gratitude which is going to be very difficult to repay.”

  “There is no – reason for you to feel like – that. It was just that I thought the Indian was going to – kill you and something – or somebody – outside myself told me what – I must do.”

  “That was obviously my Guardian Angel, if I have one,” Lord Harleston added with a smile, “or perhaps it is you who are that, although I did not realise it when we first met.”

  He recalled as he spoke how one of the cowboys had said that Nelda looked like an angel and it occurred to him that many a true word was spoken in jest.

  Because she was feeling a little embarrassed, Nelda rose to collect the plates from the table.

  “Are you still hungry?” she asked. “I can see if there is anything else here that I could cook for you.”

  “As we had a very large luncheon,” Lord Harleston replied, “I have now had everything I need. But may I point out that your kettle is boiling?”

  “I thought it would be wiser for us to drink tea rather than water. Mama always said one should never drink the water in a new place unless it had been boiled.”

  “That is very sensible,” Lord Harleston agreed, “and I would appreciate a cup of tea.”

  Nelda made it for him and, when he was drinking it, she said,

  “I am surprised you don’t want to drink the whisky, my Lord.”

  “Why?” he asked. “As a matter of fact it is a drink I really don’t like.”

  “The men here always seem to want whisky, but Papa preferred French wines, which, of course, are almost unprocurable here or else too expensive.”

  “Sometime you must tell me about the life you led with your father,” Lord Harleston said, “but not tonight as I am sure you are tired and should go to bed.”

  “What about you?”

  “I will sleep here in the chair.”

  “But – that will be – uncomfortable.”

  “I have slept in far worse places when I was in the Army. The room is warm and safe and we neither of us need to worry about anything until tomorrow morning.”

  He knew as he spoke that she did not find him very convincing. But with the shutters closed it would be impossible for him to be taken by surprise and he saw too that she was now looking exhausted.

  “Go to bed, Nelda,” he insisted.

  “I found some clean sheets when I was looking for a bandage,” Nelda told him. “I am sure if you prefer I could make you up a bed by putting two chairs together.”

  Lord Harleston smiled.

  “Stop worrying about me,” he ordered her, “and go to bed now. You have been through quite enough for one day!”

  He thought as he spoke it was not just one day but three, which would have reduced any other woman of his acquaintance to complete hysterics.

  As if she knew that he was b
eing sensible, Nelda said,

  “Goodnight, my Lord – and thank you for – being so kind to – me.”

  She did not wait for an answer, but went into the bedroom and closed the door.

  Lord Harleston heard her moving about and supposed that she must be changing the sheets.

  Then he pulled up another chair in front of the one by the stove where he could stretch out his legs and decided to take off his riding boots.

  As they had been made especially for him by Maxwell in Dover Street, they were a perfect fit and it was difficult to remove them with no Portman to help him.

  But he had walked a long way and he reckoned that if he kept them on all night his feet would feel swollen and sore by the morning.

  Accordingly he was determined to take them off and then was relieved to be free of them.

  He settled himself in the armchair, his pistol beside him and, having turned down the lamp to only a faint glow, he closed his eyes.

  He was just drifting into the comfortable state between sleeping and being just awake when he heard the sound of a door opening.

  Instantly he was alert until he realised that it was the bedroom door and then he saw Nelda standing in the opening.

  She looked rather like a ghost until he realised that she was wearing a sheet draped around her and the only part of her he could see was her fair hair falling over her shoulders.

  “What is the matter, Nelda?”

  She stood gazing at him.

  Then she said in a very small voice,

  “You will – think I am very – f-foolish and I am – ashamed of myself, but because I am – alone in there – I am – f-frightened.”

  He could see the expression on her face and knew that she was speaking the truth and he felt that beneath the sheet her whole body was trembling.

  He smiled reassuringly at her.

  “That is understandable and therefore there are only two things we can do. Either you can come and sleep here beside me or I can come and sleep beside you.”

  “I-I don’t want to make you – uncomfortable,” Nelda sighed miserably, “but I keep thinking I hear Indians – creeping around outside – and I want to scream!”

  “You are safe enough here,” Lord Harleston assured her, “and I promise if there are any Indians about I should be aware of it and shoot them before they can force their way into the house.”

  “I – expect you think I am very foolish,” Nelda said with a little sob.

  “I think you are the bravest woman I have ever met in my whole life,” Lord Harleston answered. “Now you go and get back into bed. I will come and lie beside you.”

  “Perhaps – Mama would think it – wrong of me to ask you to – do such a thing.”

  “It is no more wrong,” Lord Harleston declared firmly, “than that we should both sit uncomfortably bolt upright on these rather hard chairs all night. And if you want the truth, my legs are already beginning to ache not to mention my arm.”

  He knew as he spoke that Nelda would worry about him and, as he had anticipated, she said,

  “Is your arm – hurting you?”

  “It’s not bad, but I can feel it throbbing,” Lord Harleston admitted.

  “I should not have listened to you when you said that you would be all right in the chair. I would have managed much better than you.”

  “As it is, neither of us is going to manage on a chair,” Lord Harleston said firmly, “so go and get into bed, Nelda, and I will carry in the light.”

  “It was – stupid of me to blow out the candle. Everything seemed so much more – terrifying in the dark.”

  “I suppose it does, so we will keep the light burning.”

  He went to the table to pick up the oil lamp and, when he did so, he realised that Nelda had gone back into the bedroom.

  Following her he saw that she was now in the bed, still wrapped in the sheet, and she was leaning back against a pillow that she had put a clean pillowslip on.

  There was another one beside her that was also spotlessly clean and Lord Harleston placed the lamp on what was to be his side of the bed.

  Then he looked around as if to make sure that Nelda’s fears were just imaginary.

  The window was shut tight and barred and there was just enough light from the fire in the living room to see through the open door that there was no one there to threaten them.

  Lord Harleston lay down on top of the bed, pulling the patchwork quilt over him.

  “Now go to sleep,” he insisted, “and worry about nothing. I am here to protect you and, if anyone disturbs us, I will shoot on sight.”

  Nelda did not speak for a moment.

  Then she asked,

  “You are not – angry with me – anymore?”

  “I think you are aware without my having to tell you,” Lord Harleston replied. “If your intuition is working properly, you would know that I am not only very grateful to you but I think, after what we have been through together, we are friends.”

  He turned his head on the pillow to look at her as he spoke and saw that she was smiling at him in a way that she not had done before.

  “I would – like to be your – friend,” she hesitated a little, “because I have – never had one.”

  “Then as a friend,” Lord Harleston replied, “I suggest that you forget everything that has happened and go to sleep.”

  “I will – try,” Nelda replied.

  There was silence until she whispered,

  “Now you are here I am not frightened anymore and it will be easier to sleep in the dark.”

  “Of course,” Lord Harleston agreed.

  He turned down the wick of the lamp and settled himself comfortably.

  Then Nelda said very softly,

  “I have thanked God that we are – safe and I think, if your Guardian Angel is looking after you – mine is looking after – me.”

  Lord Harleston smiled.

  “I was just wondering,” Nelda went on, “what might have happened to me when the cowboys took me to Denver – if they had not given – me to you?”

  She paused before she added in a puzzled voice,

  “How did they – find you?”

  Lord Harleston thought that he should have expected her to ask this question sooner or later and he should have had an answer ready.

  After a short hesitation he replied,

  “Every cowboy, whoever he works for, would know the Altmans.”

  “It is – very kind of them to take – me in,” Nelda murmured.

  Lord Harleston felt her search for his hand, which was lying on the outside of the patchwork quilt.

  “I am so glad – you were there, because, as you are a member of Papa’s family, I don’t feel quite so – alone.”

  He felt her fingers tremble in his as she added,

  “But I – am – alone in the world now.”

  “When you return to England,” Lord Harleston replied, “you will find you have a large number of relatives, in fact I often think we have too many.”

  There was silence.

  “Perhaps – they will not like me and – disapprove of Papa.”

  Lord Harleston sensed that she was going to say ‘as you do’ and then stopped herself.

  “I think once anyone knows you, Nelda,” he said rapidly, “they would find, as I have done, that you are brave, self-controlled and very intelligent.”

  He felt her start in surprise before she asked,

  “Do you mean – that? Do you – really mean – it?”

  “I promise you I am speaking the truth.”

  “I am glad – so very – very glad. I know that Papa would want the Head of his Family to like me.”

  She gave a deep sigh and took her hand away.

  “Now I am much – happier,” she murmured like a child, “and I will go to – sleep.”

  She turned on her side and after a little while Lord Harleston could observe by her quiet breathing that she was finally fast asleep.

  B
ut he lay awake thinking.

  Chapter Six

  Lord Harleston opened his eyes and realised that the light in the room came not from the oil lamp, which had gone out, but because the shutters over the window fitted badly.

  The yellow lines of sunlight that percolated into the room induced a golden glow and he turned his head to look at Nelda with her head on the pillow beside him.

  She looked very lovely, very young and very innocent and, he thought with a twist of his lips, that with his reputation no one, least of all Robert, would believe that he had spent the night beside a beautiful woman without touching her.

  He found himself wondering what Nelda would do if he kissed her and decided that she would not be as much shocked as astonished.

  He had not missed the fact that she treated him as somebody authoritative and elderly. He might have been her uncle or her father, but in no way as a young man whom she would think of as a suitor.

  It was a sobering thought that he appeared so old to somebody so young, but he knew that he had never met anyone like Nelda.

  Not that he had ever had anything to do with young girls, but those he had seen occasionally in the houses of his hostesses he had always thought were somewhat gauche and ungainly and certainly painfully shy.

  He had expected Nelda to be uncouth and tainted by the life that her father led, but she had surprised him again and again with everything she said and did until he was left completely astounded by her bravery and her self-control.

  He knew as she lay there, looking so frail and insubstantial with her eyes closed that it was impossible to imagine any woman of his acquaintance behaving in such an exemplary manner or showing bravery, which was actually more than he would have expected from a man of his own age.

  Looking back over what Nelda had experienced in the last five days, he thought that no one would believe it had happened and certainly he himself found it hard to credit that they had both passed unscathed through such traumatic events.

  This brought to his attention the fact that the bandage on his arm was uncomfortable and he knew too that he wanted to wash before Nelda was awake.

  Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he slipped from the bed and walked silently across the floor on his stockinged feet into the other room.