108. An Archangel Called Ivan

by Barbara Cartland

  It had been two o’clock before anyone had thought of leaving what to them was a very good party.

  She was glad when at last some of the older guests decided that they were tired and the band played ‘God Save the Queen’as everyone stood to attention.

  They all said that it was one of the best parties they had been to in the Season.

  Only Arliva knew what trouble she had experienced in keeping away from the Earl, who had been ordered by his mother to propose to her.

  He kept turning up every time she was without a partner to ask her to dance and fortunately she was able to stave him off by saying that she had promised someone else.

  In fact she managed to avoid dancing with him at all before the party came to an end.

  When she climbed into bed, she did not feel sleepy as she had expected.

  She lay still thinking of how Charles and Betty had doubtless gone home clinging to each other almost in tears at the thought that they would seldom be able to do this again.

  The idea that had come to her when she had left her sitting room was still there at the back of her mind.

  But she had to think her present situation over most carefully as her father had taught her to do.

  She looked in depth at her problem from what she believed was an impersonal angle.

  Finally she fell into a deep sleep.

  *

  When she awoke, it seemed to her that things were much simpler than they had been the night before.

  She dressed and enjoyed a large breakfast.

  To the household’s surprise she did not want to go riding in Rotten Row. Instead she ordered a carriage as she said that she needed to go shopping.

  Her aunt had made it a rule for some time that she would not have her breakfast until ten o’clock. Therefore she had no desire to discuss the engagements of the day until at least an hour later.

  As Arliva did not wish to be questioned as to what she was about to do, she ordered a carriage at a quarter-to-ten to go shopping.

  “Do you wish that Mrs. Featherstone comes with you, miss?” the butler asked.

  She was the housekeeper and Arliva would usually have preferred to take her shopping with her than one of the other maids, who knew nothing about fashion and only stood staring while she purchased something.

  “Not this morning,” Arliva answered. “I don’t have to go far and I know that she is busy clearing up after last night’s party.”

  “A right mess a party always leaves behind,” the butler replied, “especially when it’s for the young ‘uns.”

  Arliva laughed.

  “We will grow old soon enough. You must not stop us being young while we have the opportunity.”

  The butler smiled.

  “It’s good for us all to have you here, Miss Arliva,” he said. “We gets old and stuck in our ways, as I were sayin’ to cook only yesterday. A party, even if it gives us a lot of work makes us feel young again just watchin’ you.”

  “I knew you would understand, Rickards,” she said. “At the same time it will take them a while to make the floor as good as it was. I noticed when the guests came in from the garden that some of them brought in sand and even grass on their shoes.”

  “We’ll soon polish it off, miss,” Rickards replied confidently.

  Arliva laughed again.

  She told Rickards, as he saw her into the carriage, to tell the coachman to take her to Bond Street.

  When they arrived, she said that she wanted to go first to the bank in Hanover Square.

  Coutts Bank, where her father had kept his money, was one of the oldest in London.

  When Arliva asked to see the Bank Manager, she was taken immediately to his room.

  As she was announced, he then jumped up from his chair and held out his hand.

  “This is a great surprise, Miss Ashdown,” he said, “and, of course, you are very welcome.”

  Arliva smiled at him and sat down in the chair in front of his desk.

  “I have come to talk to you, Mr. Carter,” she said, “about some of the things I require doing immediately and everything I say is naturally confidential.”

  The Bank Manager nodded his head as if this was too obvious to require a reply.

  Arliva went on,

  “I want you to write to Mr. Charles Walton and tell him that my father gave you instructions before he died that, if any of his closest friends were in trouble, he would help them out of their difficulties so long as it was not publicised or talked about to anyone else.”

  The Bank Manager stared at her in surprise, but he did not interrupt.

  “I want you to send Mr. Charles Walton the sum of twenty thousand pounds on the condition that he does not convey to anyone who he has received it from.”

  The Bank Manager gave a gasp.

  “Twenty thousand pounds, Miss Ashdown! That is a very large sum and, of course, I would have to discuss it with your Trustees.”

  Arliva held up her hand.

  “I told you that this was a private matter between you and me. I have had my father’s instructions as to what to do and you must now take mine that it is a matter of complete secrecy and you must make sure that Mr. Walton does not talk about it to anyone else.”

  “But I don’t think,” the Bank Manager said, “that this very large sum can be paid without the support and assurance of your Trustees that the sum would be returned within a certain amount of time and naturally I must have their authority to do what you ask.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Then Arliva said slowly and in a positive way that made every word seem important,

  “I don’t think, Mr. Carter, that you have read my father’s will very carefully. He gave me complete control of my money when I was eighteen, saying that, as I have the brain and intelligence of any man of twenty-one, he intended to grant me exactly the same rights as if I had become of age.”

  Again there was silence.

  Then the Bank Manager said,

  “I do remember that, Miss Ashdown, but I do think it is a very large sum which you are giving away without apparently any chance of making it clear that it must be returned.”

  “What I have obviously not made clear,” Arliva insisted, “is that the money is a gift and it comes from my father, who naturally cannot be thanked and I am not to be mentioned in the transaction in any way.”

  The Bank Manager put his hand up to his head and scratched it.

  “I cannot understand why you are doing this,” he said at length.

  “There is no need for you to understand it,” Arliva replied, “you just have to carry out my wishes.”

  “I must have support,” the Bank Manager protested.

  “Why?” Arliva questioned. “I have pointed out that the money is mine to do with as I wish. Or rather in this case to do as my father wished.”

  There was a pause.

  As the Bank Manager did not speak, she continued,

  “Of course, Mr. Carter, I also have the power, if necessary, to change my bank.”

  The Bank Manager then drew in his breath and for a brief moment his face seemed to go white.

  Then unexpectedly he laughed.

  “Forgive me, Miss Ashdown,” he said, “but you spoke so like your father at that moment that I almost felt that he was sitting opposite me. Of course I do understand that you are within your rights, but, as you are so young, I feel you don’t realise what a large sum of money this is to be disposed of perhaps without thought.”

  “That is where you are wrong,” Arliva asserted. “I have thought this over very carefully. I want to help as I know my father would have done.”

  There was another silence and then she added,

  “Are you ready to do what I ask or must I go elsewhere?”

  The Bank Manager laughed again.

  “You know quite well that you are bullying me into a submission over which I have no power, as you pointed out, Miss Ashdown, to do anything else but to obey your instructi
ons.”

  Arliva smiled.

  “I thought you would see sense. I will sign the papers, which I am sure you want me to do. I also want one thousand pounds in cash for myself.”

  “Now that sounds very sensible,” he said. “I have read in the newspapers that you are the best dressed and smartest young lady in the whole of London.”

  “I like to think they are speaking the truth,” Arliva smiled. “But now let me have the papers and your word of honour that you will not discuss this with anyone else.”

  The Bank Manager only seemed to hesitate for a moment before he assured her,

  “You now have my word, Miss Ashdown, that the transaction is between you and me. Mr. Charles Walton, who is a very lucky man, will be informed as you have asked me, that the money comes from your father because he and Mr. Walton’s father were very good friends.”

  “That is exactly what I want you to say and no more please,” Arliva agreed.

  The Bank Manager sent for the papers for her to sign and also for the one thousand pounds she had asked for herself.

  When she rose to leave, he said,

  “If you will allow me to say, Miss Ashdown, that you are a remarkable young lady. Of course I might have expected your father, who was the most brilliant man I ever met, to have produced you.”

  “I am sure, like everyone else, you are thinking it’s a great pity I was not a boy!” Arliva said.

  The Bank Manager laughed as if he could not help it.

  “I suppose quite a number of people have thought that when they realised how bright you are,” he replied.

  “I imagine that they were really thinking it’s a great mistake for a woman to have too much responsibility, but so far with your help everything has run smoothly and I am very grateful.”

  Arliva held out her hand and the Bank Manager took it.

  “All I can say, Miss Ashdown, is that your father would be proud of you, especially if he read of the praise and admiration you are receiving in the Social columns of the newspapers.”

  “I have often wondered if they would say half as much if I was not overshadowed by my father’s money and brilliance.”

  The Bank Manager knew that there was no answer to this and he merely bowed her to the door.

  As she was being driven away in the carriage, she thought that Charles and Betty would be hysterical when the money arrived.

  They would now be able to marry each other and would never know that it was just by chance she had been in the right place to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  She then told the coachman to drive her to a large shop in Oxford Street, where she occasionally bought small items, but not the smart clothes in which she was so much admired as a debutante.

  He put her down at the front door.

  She walked through the shop without stopping and out through the door at the other end of it that led into Cavendish Square.

  She walked across the Square to where at the other side there was an Employment Agency for servants.

  It was, she knew, where her aunt’s housekeeper engaged servants when necessary and the butler had quite recently taken on a new footman from there.

  The Agency was on the first floor above a shop that catered for garden implements.

  There was no one on the stairs and Arliva stopped to put on a pair of large dark spectacles that she had worn last year in Switzerland, when she had found the blazing sun on the snow almost overpowering.

  She took off the pearls she was wearing round her neck that had belonged to her mother and slipped them into her handbag.

  She was aware that now she looked very ordinary.

  She had in fact chosen, rather to the surprise of her lady’s maid, a dark suit which so far she had not worn in the summer.

  She had deliberately chosen to wear a very plain hat that was ornamented with two small feathers on one side of it.

  She now deftly removed the feathers and put them into her handbag.

  She then walked up the stairs.

  As it was quite early, there were not many servants waiting to hear of a new job and there were only two boys present, who obviously wanted to be employed in a stable.

  She saw at the far end of the room a woman at a very tall desk and walked towards her.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Hill,” she said. “I have been told by so many people how efficient you are at finding work for those who need it and I am hoping that you will be able to oblige me.”

  The woman, who was elderly, then adjusted her spectacles and looked at Arliva critically.

  “I am always very glad to hear a kind word about myself,” she answered. “They always say that they could not manage in Mayfair without me.”

  “That is exactly what they do say,” Arliva replied. “Therefore I am sure that you will be able to find me a place as a Governess.”

  “Have you had any experience?” Mrs. Hill asked.

  “I have, as it happens, travelled over a great deal of the world and I speak five different languages, but I prefer, if possible, to be with young children. I really need a rest from my last situation which was very strenuous.”

  “I suppose you have references?”

  Arliva opened her handbag.

  She had actually written them before she went to bed last night knowing that they would be the first thing she would be asked for.

  She had been delighted to find that in her father’s writing table, which she had looked in before she went up to bed, that there were a number of letters from people of distinction.

  It had been quite easy to erase the few words of goodwill and keep the signature on them.

  She had three letters with her from titled people and two of them lived in the North of England, who were not likely to come into contact with Mrs. Hill.

  Mrs. Hill then read them slowly and was obviously impressed.

  “You seem to be very talented,” she remarked. “I will be very pleased to find somewhere for you. But first of all you must give me your name.”

  “My name is Parker,” Arliva told her, “and I would like to be accommodated as soon as possible. As I worked very hard in the last place with two girls of seventeen and a boy of twelve, I would like to be with small children for a short time to give myself a rest.”

  “That should not be too difficult,” Mrs. Hill said reassuringly. “Do you mind being in the country?”

  “I was just going to say to you that I would want to be in the country and not in a town,” Arliva replied. “I find towns very tiring. Also it means that one has little time for riding and enjoying oneself with animals.”

  “Most young women of your age,” Mrs. Hill said, “find the country dull. But I have the very place for you if you don’t mind being isolated with children and animals. I understand from the Governesses I have already sent that there is nothing else.”

  “Where is it?” Arliva enquired.

  “It is Lord Wilson’s in Huntingdonshire,” she said. “He is an old man, but he has his three grandchildren with him. Two years ago their parents were drowned when the ship they were sailing in to America sank in a very rough sea. No one else in the family wanted three children, so his Lordship was obliged to take his grandchildren in and the trouble they’ve been to him in that the Governesses I’ve sent to look after them find the place too dull and too isolated.”

  She gave a little laugh before she added,

  “Young women want the excitement of shops even if they can’t afford to buy the goods in them. Shops, I do understand, are very rare where Lord Wilson lives.”

  “Well, I would like to go there,” Arliva answered. “I am sure that it will be a rest from the hectic life I have been having recently.”

  “I only hope you stay a bit longer than the last Governess did,” Mrs. Hill said. “She left after only four weeks and that, I can tell you, is a record.”

  “I promise you I will stay longer than that,” Arliva told her. “I would like to go as soon as possible, please.”

&
nbsp; “Well, here’s the address and I’ll write at once to his Lordship’s secretary who’s been bothering me day after day with letters asking me to send them someone. Your wages will be forty pounds a year paid monthly and they’ll refund all the expenses you’ve incurred in travelling there.”

  “I will definitely go the day after tomorrow,” Arliva announced. “I am quite sure, Mrs. Hill, I will be happy with the children. Are they boys or girls?”

  “There’s a boy of seven, who is his Lordship’s heir, and his two sisters who are twins of six years of age.”

  “I can only say that I am very grateful to you and, of course, I would like my references returned to me when I arrive at Wilson Hall.”

  “I only hope that you won’t be back asking me for another place like all the others I’ve said goodbye to,” Mrs. Hill replied rather harshly.

  “I hope not,” Arliva said. “I am looking forward to being in the country even if it is rather isolated.”

  “Well, very good luck to you and I hope you settle down,” Mrs. Hill replied. “I don’t mind telling you that it’s been a real headache finding young women today, who want to be gadding about in a town rather than attending to their pupils.”

  She spoke sharply and Arliva then appreciated that she must have sent a good number of applicants to this particular place.

  At the same time she felt that this position was just what she needed at the moment.

  At least no one from the Beau Monde would think of looking for her there.

  She thanked Mrs. Hill, signed her name on various papers and then went off down the stairs.

  She tucked her spectacles away in her handbag and then she hastily put on her earrings and pearl necklace and hurried across the Square.

  Her carriage was waiting outside the shop where she had left it and she told the coachman to take her home.

  She felt that both the coachman and the footman were surprised that she carried no parcels with her.

  But they immediately drove her back to Park Lane, where she found her aunt coming down the staircase very smartly dressed.

  “Oh, there you are, Arliva!” she exclaimed. “I was wondering what had happened to you when they told me that you had gone out shopping.”