An Introduction to the Pink Collection

by Barbara Cartland

  “I beg your pardon!”

  “It is well known, Miss Colwell, that you, an unmarried woman, share this house with the Earl, an unmarried man, with no respectable female companion.”

  “I am his lordship’s housekeeper,” Rena said, her eyes sparkling with anger. “A servant. Servants do not have ‘respectable female companions’. They have to take the work that will put a roof over their heads.”

  “I have already said that I understand that you were constrained by circumstances. Nor is it my intention to apportion blame to one who has erred in – I feel sure – innocence. I am here to rescue you.”

  “But I do not need rescue.”

  “Madam, your need for rescue is greater than you can possibly know. A young woman’s reputation, beautiful and fragile as it is, must call forth all the protective instincts of those whose mission in life is to protect lost souls. You have strayed – yes. Sadly that is true. But you have not wandered far from the path, and there is yet time to turn you back.”

  Rena stared at him, scarcely able to believe what she was hearing.

  “I believe – I fervently believe that your stay in this house has not yet compromised your virtue though it has endangered your reputation. If you escape at once all is not lost. I shall take you back with me to the vicarage where you may embark upon that path of righteousness that will in time undo the harm.”

  “I’m not going back there,” Rena said, aghast. “And I feel sure that your sister doesn’t want me.”

  “On the contrary, she is eager for your return. Her last words to me were not to come back without you. There are many ways in which you can make yourself useful in that house which you know better than anyone. Her health is not strong – ”

  “And she would like to have an unpaid drudge around,” Rena said, light dawning.

  “Young woman, I am not here to bandy words with you, but to take you home.”

  “The parsonage is no longer my home. Now I think you should leave.”

  “You dare to show me an impudent spirit! I have come to offer you my protection. Your father was a brother man of the cloth, and now I stand in his place. I demand from you the obedience of a daughter.”

  “No sir, you do not stand in my father’s place. He was the best and kindest man who ever lived, and he would never have tried to bully anyone in the way you have me. I owe you no obedience and will give you none.”

  “I say, Miss Colwell – sorry to butt in and all that – but have you seen my cigars?”

  John had entered by the French windows and now stood on the threshold, smiling amiably but implacably.

  “Hallo, vicar. You still here? Hope you’ve finished your little talk because my housekeeper has a great deal of work to get on with. Come now, Miss Colwell, be about your duties. Mustn’t fall behind, must we?”

  “I do not consider this a suitable position for Miss Colwell,” the vicar said stiffly.

  “Oh no, no, no!” John said, still amiable, but standing between them in a manner that couldn’t be mistaken. “She does her job very well. Couldn’t do without her. Shall I show you to the door?”

  The Reverend Daykers had no choice but to follow his host, but he had one parting shot for Rena.

  “I shall not cease in my untiring efforts to reclaim you.”

  When he had gone Rena sat down, not sure whether to laugh or cry. The man was a pompous fool who deceived himself as to his own motives, yet he had shown her how the world would view her, a world in which she would soon have to make her way alone again.

  John was in a merry mood when he returned.

  “I’m afraid I eavesdropped shamelessly outside the French windows,” he said, dropping down on the sofa beside her, and taking her hands in his.

  “I’m glad you did. He was getting difficult to handle. As though I’d go back and drudge for that family.”

  “As though I’d let you. And who cares what people say? We’ll be married soon.”

  “John, please don’t be so certain of that. I’m not sure we can ever be married.”

  “Why, what are you talking about? Of course we’re going to be married, now that we know we love each other. That’s what people in love do, my darling. They marry each other.”

  “And the people who are depending on you as their last hope? Do we just turn our backs and leave them to starve?”

  He stared at her, aghast as it dawned on him that she was serious.

  “Are you saying we have no right think of our own happiness?” he asked at last.

  “Perhaps we don’t.”

  She jumped up from the sofa and moved away from him, as though by doing so she could break the spell that bound her to him.

  But he followed her at once, taking hold of her and drawing her round to face him.

  “I won’t accept that. We love each other – ” his face was suddenly full of fear, “Rena, you do love me? You said so. Let me hear you say it again.”

  “Of course I love you, with all my heart. It’s been such a short time, and yet already you’re my whole world. John my darling, don’t ever doubt my love for you.”

  He relaxed a little, but held her against him as though afraid that some power might snatch her away.

  “You must never talk like this again,” he said. “I’ve sailed the world, always looking for my ideal woman, in country after country. And at last I found her here, my perfect treasure. Do you think I’m going to let that treasure go? Rena, my darling – ”

  His lips were on hers again in a kiss that blotted out all argument. Rena gave herself up to her happiness, glorying in his love, knowing that stern reality had to be faced soon but – not yet – not yet –

  When he released her she took his face between her hands and looked at him fervently.

  “I shall love you,” she said, “all my life, and beyond. Never forget that.”

  Her beautiful soul was in her eyes. He saw it and took her hand, kissing it with reverence.

  “Then we shall always be together,” he said. “Give me your promise.”

  “John, I – ”

  “Give it to me,” he insisted.

  How could she give him such a promise, she thought wildly, knowing that she might have to break it? Yet how could she break so solemn a vow to the man she loved?

  Her duty seemed clear to her. Let him go for the sake of those who looked to him for succour. She averted her eyes from that duty, lest her heart break, but when she opened them it was still there.

  Matilda had said, “I’m not Jeremiah for nothing.”

  She, Rena, was not the Reverend Colwell’s daughter for nothing. Much of his teaching might have fallen away from her recently, but not that: not the obligation to put others’ needs first, at whatever cost to oneself.

  “Rena – promise me that we will be married,” he said, speaking in a stern voice that she had never heard him use before.

  “I – ”

  But before she could answer a shadow appeared in the open French windows and a strong, female voice cried, “Thank heavens I’ve found you. You simply must help us.”

  It was Matilda, and behind her was a young man with red hair and a plain, freckled face.

  “This is Cecil Jenkins,” she said. “I told you about him.”

  This was the man she loved, and by the note in her voice Rena knew of her pride and joy.

  “Cecil?” John asked.

  “I promised Matilda I would keep her secret,” Rena explained. “She and Cecil are in love.”

  “And we want to marry,” the young man said. “It’s just that Mr Wyngate is the problem.”

  “This is wonderful,” John exclaimed. “At least he’ll stop trying to dragoon me into being his son-in-law.”

  “If you think that, you don’t know my father,” Matilda said. “Cecil had to come here in secret and hide in the bushes in the hotel garden until I came out. Now we desperately need your help. If Papa discovers that he’s here he’ll be furious. He’s so set on having Lord Lansdale as
a son-in-law.”

  “I don’t think you should say that in front of Cecil,” John objected mildly.

  “Cecil knows that I love him,” Matilda said passionately, “and I wouldn’t have you at any price – no offence intended.”

  “None taken,” John said affably. “I feel the same – no offence intended.”

  “Of course. You’re in love with Rena, aren’t you? I told her you were, but she wouldn’t believe me. But after what I’ve just seen I know it’s true. I wish you both every happiness. But it doesn’t mean that Papa has given up.”

  “He’s bringing men up here to move into the house,” Cecil said. “Thirty of them.”

  John and Rena looked at each other, appalled.

  “But how could you possibly know that?” John demanded.

  “I know the firm of architects that he’s employing,” Cecil said. “The head man is a friend of mine. Mr Wyngate gave his orders last week – “

  “Last week?” John exclaimed. “Before he came here?”

  “That’s how Papa works,” Matilda explained. “First he lays his plans, then he investigates to see if there’ll be any opposition.”

  “And if there is, he deals with it,” Cecil said. “They’re only waiting for his message to move in here.”

  “And when they arrive,” Matilda cried, “you won’t be able to stop them, because when people take their orders from Papa they’re too scared of him to disobey.”

  “But this is my house,” John said.

  “That won’t make any difference. They’re not scared of you, they’re scared of him.”

  Matilda’s voice rose to a note of hysteria.

  “You think you can fight him, but you can’t. Nobody can fight Papa. We might as well give in now.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cecil took Matilda into his arms, soothing her after her hysterical outburst. When she had finished sobbing she managed a smile and wiped her eyes.

  “Sometimes I can’t help doing that,” she explained shakily. “I mean to be strong and brave, but then I remember how powerful he is, and how he can be everywhere at once.”

  “Please ma’am, don’t talk like that,” John begged. “You sound like Rena. According to her he divided himself into two this morning, then merged back and vanished.”

  “John, that’s most unfair,” Rena protested. “It was an illusion, because I was upset.”

  “But what did you see?” Matilda asked, wide-eyed.

  Rena again described the incident, but this time leaving out the part where Wyngate had tried to make her his mistress. And she tried to make light of the ‘appearance’ of his double.

  But it was no use. Matilda’s eyes were wide with horror.

  “You’ve seen it too?” she whispered. “And so have I.”

  “Matilda, my dear,” Cecil chided her lovingly. “That cannot be.”

  “But it can. It’s how Papa spies on people. When I was a little girl, in the park with my governess he used to divide himself and appear, although I knew we’d just left him at home. He would stand there watching me, and then disappear.”

  “Did your governess see him?” Rena asked.

  “No, she always said I was imagining things.”

  “Did you tell your father?” Rena asked.

  Matilda solemnly shook her head. “I was too scared. He must be very determined if he’s started doing this again.”

  “For the love of heaven, both of you,” John said in alarm, “you talk as though this fantasy was real, but it can’t be. There simply has to be a rational explanation.” He scratched his head. “I only wish I could think what it was.”

  “We’re probably both so unnerved by him that we’ve started hallucinating,” Rena said, with an attempt at cheerfulness.

  “But that wouldn’t explain why we hallucinate the same thing,” Matilda pointed out. “It must be real.”

  “Then there is a common sense explanation,” John said firmly. “In the mean time we have to stop frightening ourselves.

  “Of course,” Cecil said bravely.

  “Yes.” Matilda gave herself a little shake, as though pulling herself together by main force. “We will not be beaten.”

  “We’re going to find a way to be together,” Cecil promised her. He looked up at the other two. “But we badly need your help.”

  “You promised you’d help me,” Matilda reminded Rena.

  “And I will. But what do you want me to do?”

  “Let Cecil hide here. He has nowhere else, and Papa mustn’t see him. I must hurry back to the hotel before he finds me missing. He thinks I’m lying down.”

  “Of course he may stay here,” John said at once. “But what is your plan?”

  Cecil looked helpless. “While I’m here, I’ll see as much of Matilda as possible and – something may happen,” he said.

  John, the man of action, refrained from giving his frank opinion of this as a strategy, contenting himself with saying mildly, “Perhaps something would be more likely to happen if you gave it some assistance.”

  “Yes,” said Cecil at once. “But how?”

  “Please don’t fight with Papa,” Matilda pleaded with John.

  “Tell him not to fight with me,” John said at once.

  “I mean, when he turns up here, don’t send him away. Let him come in and look round as if you were prepared to consider his ideas.”

  “You mean let him think I’m in the market for his daughter?” John demanded bluntly. “How will that help you?”

  “Because if you throw him out he may drag me back to London, and it’s much harder for Cecil and me to meet. But when he comes here I can come with him, and then I shall be able to see Cecil.”

  John looked helplessly at them and from them to Rena.

  “I don’t like this idea,” he said, “but I can’t think of a better.”

  Rena also was uneasy, but she could see no way of refusing. And the more the bonds between Matilda and Cecil were cemented the easier it would be to thwart Wyngate.

  “Please come with me,” she said to Cecil, “and I will find you a room.”

  He followed her upstairs and she put him in the room near John’s, where it would be easy to keep him under observation.

  “You probably think I’m just after Matilda’s money,” the young man said. “But I do assure you that I’m not. She’s such a wonderful girl.”

  He was a very plain young man, and some girls would have found him uninteresting. But when Rena saw the love light shining from his eyes as he spoke of his beloved she could see exactly what the lonely Matilda found in him to love.

  “No, I promise you I don’t think that,” she assured him kindly. “Besides, I think you know by now that you probably won’t get his money.”

  “Oh I do hope not,” he said earnestly. “That would be much better. Of course I want Matilda to have a comfortable life, but I can support her, and she swears to me that she doesn’t care about luxury.”

  He gave a self deprecating laugh.

  “You probably think it’s naive of me, to believe her. Easy to say you don’t care for luxury when you’re surrounded by it. She might feel different later. But I don’t think so. She’s never had anybody who loved her. Her father only cares about making use of her. But I love her, and she knows it.”

  “I believe you. How did you two meet?”

  “I’m an architect. Mr Wyngate wanted his own house in London transformed – bigger, grander, more luxurious – ”

  “I can imagine.”

  “She was there – the sweetest girl alive – and we talked, and talked. And we fell in love. We planned our future together – I was doing well in the firm, there was a chance of a partnership.”

  He sighed. “But then he found us together, and the sky descended on us. I have never seen a man so lividly angry. He had me thrown out of the house bodily, there and then, and locked Matilda in her room for a week.

  “He demanded that she promise never to see me again. When she
refused I was waylaid on a street corner by thugs, and beaten until I nearly died.”

  “Sweet heaven!” Rena murmured, appalled.

  “I was taken to hospital and she was brought to see me there so that she could witness the results of her ‘disobedience’.”

  Rena buried her face in her hands.

  “She gave him that promise,” Cecil said. Then he looked at her closely. “Matilda says you’re a parson’s daughter, Miss Colwell.”

  She raised her head. “That’s right,” she said huskily.

  “Will it shock you very much if I say that neither Matilda nor myself had the slightest intention of keeping such a promise?”

  “Not in the slightest” Rena said in a decisive tone. “In my opinion nobody should feel bound by a promise extracted in such a way.”

  “Then you do not blame us?”

  “I think you should get her away from him as soon as possible, and go to a place where he can’t find you.”

  She spoke impulsively and his wry look showed that he knew it.

  Some place where Wyngate’s arm could not reach.

  Was there such a place?

  As if to confirm her thoughts, Cecil added,

  “I said I was doing well in the firm, but since then I haven’t been able to get work. Wyngate’s influence stretches far, and everyone is afraid of him.”

  “Oh how angry I get when I hear that!” Rena flashed. “Everyone is afraid of Wyngate! We must not be afraid of him.”

  She finished dusting, glad of a prosaic occupation to set against the horrors in her mind.

  “Let us go down now,” she said, “and you can look for some books in the library to while away the long hours I’m afraid you will have to spend up here. After what you’ve told me it’s more than ever vital to keep you hidden.”

  They began to head back the way they had come. But at the top of the stairs they heard a voice that made them both start back and flatten themselves against the wall.

  “It’s him,” Cecil said. “Mr Wyngate.”

  The man’s hated voice seemed to combine the cawing of a rook with the sound of a coin scratching across glass. It reached them clearly up the stairs.

  “Get back to your room quickly,” she murmured.