Love Is the Reason For Living

by Barbara Cartland

  “I would not give it a second thought. Sir Edward is as discreet as he is noble.”

  “Allow me to see that Mama is comfortable and then I will pack a bag,” she agreed at last. “Perhaps you would be good enough to drop me at Sir Edward’s house after we have been to see Mr. Humbert?”

  “Of course, I shall wait in the hallway for you.”

  Novella returned upstairs and straight away looked in on her mother. The Countess was asleep and seemed to be very peaceful.

  Kissing her on the head, she bade her farewell for the time being,

  “I shall see you tomorrow, Mama.”

  Running back to her bedroom, she quickly packed a small overnight bag and picked up her cloak. It was a warm evening, but she did not wish to catch a chill the next morning when the dew was heavy and profuse.

  Mr. Longridge was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. As she reached him, the clock chimed three.

  “Come along, we must make haste,” he urged, leading her to his carriage. “You will need to come to the bank with me before we take you to Sir Edward’s so that you may withdraw some money. I have a feeling that you will need it.”

  *

  It was not long before Novella found herself in the office of Rumbold and Humbert. Mr. Rumbold Junior gave them some tea and eventually they were shown into Mr. Humbert Senior’s office.

  “Lady Novella, to what do we owe this pleasure? Twice in one week, eh?”

  Novella looked at Mr. Humbert and then back at Mr. Longridge.

  “Proceed, my dear,” he said, “you must tell Mr. Humbert what your stepfather has been doing.”

  “Mr. Humbert, I am most concerned. Lord Buckton, my stepfather, is attempting to gain access to my father’s trust fund.”

  Mr. Humbert looked over his glasses at her and sighed,

  “Then he shall be in for a long wait, Lady Novella. As I believe my colleague told you the other day, your father took most precise steps to ensure that you and your mother would be well taken care of. You do understand that should your mother die, then everything will come to you?”

  “Yes, I had imagined that would be the case.”

  “Then let Lord Buckton do his worst – he will only find himself making one of my fellow solicitors a richer man.”

  “That may well be, but he has been taking extreme measures, Mr. Humbert. Only today he locked Lady Novella in her room in an attempt to force her to sign her rights away,” put in an outraged Mr. Longridge.

  Mr. Humbert shook his head.

  “That kind of behaviour will not bring Lord Buckton what he desires. It would seem that he is trying to frighten the lady into giving up her claim. Stand firm, Lady Novella, the law is on your side.”

  *

  As they left Mr. Humbert’s office, Novella felt considerably better.

  “I told you that matters were cast in your favour,” remarked Mr. Longridge, as they climbed into his carriage. “Now, we should proceed with all haste to the bank. I have been away from my office for a very long time and we both have business to complete.”

  It did not take any time at all to arrive at the bank.

  The moment he stepped inside, a harassed-looking clerk apprehended him before he had even reached as far as his office door.

  “Mr. Longridge! There you are.”

  “What is the matter, Jones?”

  “Well, sir, there has been an incident.”

  “What kind of incident?”

  The young clerk looked nervously at Novella and lowered his voice.

  “It is a somewhat delicate matter, sir.”

  “You may speak freely in front of Lady Novella. Although I think I can guess what you are about to tell me. Was it Lord Buckton?”

  The clerk shook his head vigorously.

  “Begging your pardon, my Lady, but he was extremely violent in his manner towards the cashier. Demanded to have access to your account by virtue of him being your stepfather. Of course, we told him that unless he had a signed deposition from yourself, it would not be possible. But he flew into such a rage, smashed his cane on the counter top and clean broke it in half. Sent an inkwell flying too, he did. Mary-Anne, the secretary, was in tears so we had to send her home.”

  “Did you call the Police?” asked Mr. Longridge.

  “No, sir, but we did threaten to do so. That seemed to calm him down a little and he left. But what a scene! Said he’d get a court order and then we’d all be in for the sack for obstructing him.”

  “No one will be dismissed, Jones, you can assure all your colleagues,” sighed Mr. Longridge.

  He then led Novella into his office in order that she could withdraw some money in peace.

  “Can he really obtain a court order to gain access to my account?” asked Novella nervously, as he counted out fifty pounds in five pound notes.

  “No, of course he cannot. Not unless you are certified insane or dead.”

  “I do believe that he would not stop at either to get what he wants!”

  “And I would be here as a witness that you are both alive and in sound mind,” replied Mr. Longridge. “Now, come along – we should be making our way to Sir Edward’s house. I do not fancy that it will be long before Lord Buckton discovers that you are not at home and will be in hot pursuit.”

  Novella tucked away the money into her purse – she intended it to be payment for the nurse as soon as she arrived.

  ‘I do hope that will not be whilst I am away from home,’ she thought, as she followed Mr. Longridge back out into the street. ‘It would be terrible if Lord Buckton intercepted her and turned her away. Mama needs her now more than ever. Oh, I wish I did not have to leave her.’

  But she knew that if she were to regain her emotional strength to fight Lord Buckton, then she would need this short time away from Crownley Hall.

  *

  And so Novella and the ever-faithful Mr. Longridge journeyed over to Tithehurst. It was a warm evening and Novella had no need of the cloak she had brought with her.

  The gates of the house rose up in front of them. Novella felt a curious thrill of excitement as the carriage pulled up the drive.

  “I will enter the house first and ask Sir Edward if he would be good enough to extend his hospitality to you tonight,” suggested Mr. Longridge, climbing down. “That way, if it is inconvenient, he will not feel awkward.”

  Novella sat and patiently waited.

  Long moments ticked by before anything happened and then Novella caught sight of Sir Edward running towards the carriage.

  “Novella. Are you all right?” he questioned, opening up the carriage door for her.

  “I am fine. I assume that Mr. Longridge has told you everything?”

  “Yes, he has. What a to-do. You will, of course, be staying with me tonight. I would not have it any other way.”

  “Thank you so much. It is such a relief to hear you say that,” she replied, leaning on his arm as she alighted from the carriage.

  “My housekeeper is making the guest room ready for you. I am so glad that you came to me – you could not have stayed in that house tonight of all nights.”

  “I confess that I have had enough of my stepfather’s ire to last me a very long time,” added Novella, “my only concern is for Mama. The nurse is due to arrive at any moment and I fear that should I not be there to receive her she will be sent away.”

  “From what Hubert told me about your housekeeper’s grumblings, I would think it likely that Mrs. Armitage would drag her back by her hair before she’d see her leave!”

  Novella laughed for the first time in a long while.

  “You are right. Mrs. Armitage has been nagging me constantly to find a nurse. She says that she was not hired to tend the sick.”

  “I think we are all agreed that your mother needs the best possible care now and I do not think even Mrs. Armitage would deny her that.”

  “She is a strange kettle of fish,” said Novella, as they entered the elegant drawing room, “I cannot decid
e if she is friend or foe. She appears devoted to Mama, yet she helped Lord Buckton to imprison me in my own room. Make of that what you will – ”

  Sir Edward handed Novella a glass of sherry. Although she almost never drank when there was not food involved, Novella took it gratefully. She felt so at home in Sir Edward’s presence that she could have easily curled up and slept right there on the sofa.

  ‘He is a very handsome man indeed,’ thought Novella, as he continued to talk about the awkward situation in which she now found herself. ‘I wonder why he does not have a thousand ladies after him? Yet there has been no gossip whatsoever.’

  Each time she looked at him, Novella felt her heart stirring. She was lonely and him being there for her in her hour of need only served to predispose her even more favourably towards him.

  He made sure that she was comfortable and asked her what she would like for dinner.

  “Oh, you must not go to any trouble on my account, I will eat whatever your cook or housekeeper is preparing for you.”

  “Nonsense,” he protested, “I have a guest – and very dear friend dining with me tonight and so it shall be a special occasion.”

  “But I have not brought another gown with me,” Novella pointed out, looking down in dismay at the plain, blue-silk dress with only a few pearl buttons for decoration. “This is not fine enough to grace your dining room.”

  “On the contrary,” parried Sir Edward, smiling, “you are perfectly charmingly attired. You look beautiful as you are.”

  Novella glanced down and blushed deeply.

  But secretly, she was thrilled. Sir Edward did not take his eyes off her for a second and each look between them became more and more lingering as the evening wore on.

  Novella was so unaware of the time that she did not even feel hungry until the butler came in to announce that dinner was served.

  “A little late, I am afraid,” said Sir Edward, offering Novella his arm.

  “Goodness. It is nine o’clock already,” remarked Novella, as the ornate, golden clock on the mantelpiece began to chime.

  “You must be famished.”

  “I do believe that I am, now that you have mentioned it,” she said, looking forward to spending more time alone with the dashing Sir Edward.

  *

  After the variable bill of fare that Novella had encountered at Crownley Hall since her return, Sir Edward’s table presented a marked difference.

  Each course seemed more delicious than the last and she ate heartily.

  “I see that the food pleases you,” commented Sir Edward, as she spooned the last morsel of a second helping of crème bavaroise into her mouth.

  “Quite delightful,” she answered, “I should like to thank your cook for providing such a wonderful meal at such short notice.”

  “He is a French chef, actually. His name is Jean-Charles and I found him in Paris. He was working for a cousin of mine who was about to marry into a well-to-do French family who already employed a large battery of chefs and sous-chefs. The French do take their food seriously.”

  “And quite right, too. But you are very lucky. There are not many households in the County who could boast a French chef.”

  “Ah, Lady Novella, I would not dream of boasting. It would mean that I would then be forced to entertain every family of any standing from now until Christmas. I swear that it would quite exhaust me.”

  “So, you do not care for the social whirl?” asked Novella, attempting to gain some knowledge of her host’s romantic life.

  “Not really. I prefer the quiet life. My horses, the country and a little hunting are all I require for a happy existence.”

  “It sounds quite perfect,” declared Novella, feeling more and more that he was the kind of person she would like to spend more time with. Then, becoming a little more daring, she broached the subject which she most wanted to discuss.

  “And I expect that you are invited to a great many balls being the only eligible bachelor for miles around. I should not wonder that your name is on every young lady’s list hereabouts.”

  Sir Edward laughed long and loud.

  “You flatter me, Novella, but you are correct in your assumption that I receive many invitations. However, I have yet to meet a young lady at any of these functions who would pass muster as a future wife – no, she would need to be a rare woman indeed!”

  “So have you no thoughts of marriage?” Novella could scarcely believe how forward she was. “Papa always said that love is the reason for living. He and Mama were so happy – ”

  Novella shocked herself with the way that she had laboured the point.

  Blushing to the roots of her hair, she looked away and pretended to be examining a painting on the wall.

  “A man always has thoughts – ” said Sir Edward, gazing at Novella deeply as she finally made eye contact once more, “but when the time is right, I shall make my choice and you shall be the first to hear of it.”

  There was an awkward silence as he stared intensely into her eyes. Novella was suddenly overcome with shyness and did not know what had possessed her to ask such questions.

  ‘It is quite out of character for me,’ she said to herself, as she folded and refolded her napkin, ‘after all, it is not as if I am really interested.’

  But Novella knew that she was lying to herself. Her interest in Sir Edward was as keen as her appetite had been at dinner. But she was fighting her true feelings.

  “Novella?”

  “Oh, I am sorry, I was lost in thought.”

  “But I am being selfish keeping you up. You are no doubt exhausted from the day’s trials and tribulations.”

  “No, not at all,” she admitted, “with Mama being so ill, I rarely engage in stimulating conversation with anyone. As my other dealings have all been of a rather distressing nature, it is good for me to have an altogether different kind of discussion.”

  “Then would you care to join me in the drawing room for coffee?”

  “I would love to,” replied Novella, clapping her hands together in delight.

  As Sir Edward offered her his arm once more, she thrilled at the touch of his hand when it lightly brushed hers as he put her arm under his.

  Walking to the drawing room, Novella inhaled the scent of fresh soap and brilliantine. They were the same kind of manly smells that used to emanate from her beloved Papa.

  ‘There is much about him that reminds me of Papa,’ she thought, sinking down into a large, silk-covered sofa, ‘he talks to me as if I was the most important person in the world at that moment.’

  That thought was to keep Novella awake all through the long night that followed. She tossed and turned even though the bed was extremely comfortable.

  So when the maid came in the next morning with a tray of tea, Novella felt no more refreshed than when she had first laid her head on the pillow.

  “Good morning, my Lady. Sir Edward says that he will take breakfast with you at nine o’clock. Would you like me to draw you a bath?”

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

  Having bathed and put on her blue silk dress once more, Novella brushed her hair and swept it up on her head. She was getting used to dressing herself – in fact, she had become quite adept at inventing new ways to show off her luxuriant dark hair.

  ‘It is such a pity I did not think to put a change of clothing in my bag,’ she groaned, looking wistfully at her grubby dress. ‘Sir Edward will have tired of seeing me in this.’

  But as she entered the dining room, Sir Edward’s face lit up.

  “Novella! How ravishing you look this morning.”

  “Thank you,” stammered Novella, thinking that, in her opinion, she was far from attractive at that moment.

  Novella took the top off her egg and proceeded to eat in silence.

  ‘Why am I being so awkward around Sir Edward this morning?’ she puzzled, helping herself to a curl of rich creamy butter. ‘Last night I felt completely at ease and now I am like a mumbling s
choolgirl!’

  She was aware that Sir Edward was still staring at her.

  “Novella, do you ever think that one day you might leave Crownley Hall?”

  “Goodness, I cannot imagine that,” she replied, a little too quickly.

  “But should you marry – ”

  “Then my husband would have to come and live at the Hall.”

  “That might prove difficult if your stepfather is still at large.”

  “By the time I find a suitable match, I am certain that he will be long dead and buried!”

  Sir Edward looked crushed. Novella had the distinct sense that this conversation was leading up to something – but what, she dared not guess.

  “So you intend to remain unwed for the time being?”

  Novella was not sure how she should answer this question.

  In her heart, she now suddenly realised that she loved Sir Edward deeply and utterly, and as she was embarrassed by this revelation, she found it impossible to behave naturally.

  “I am sure of nothing whilst Mama lies so ill,” she said at last.

  “Of course, I can understand that but when, Heaven forbid, she goes to meet her maker, then perhaps you would think of it? It would not be right for a pretty young girl like yourself to be alone in the world.”

  ‘What shall I say now?’ thought Novella, in a panic. ‘I do not feel comfortable with this conversation, but at the same time, I want to find out what he is trying to say.’

  “You are correct, I would not care to be alone in the world,” she responded eventually, a little stiffly.

  “Ah, so it might be possible for you to entertain a proposal at that point?” asked Sir Edward, his greeny-grey eyes burning with love.

  Novella’s heart began to beat so fast that she feared she would faint. Losing all interest in her breakfast, she put down her spoon and looked up at Sir Edward.

  Seeing such naked emotion in his face, she stuttered and failed to say a single word.

  “I – I – ”

  But before she had a chance to answer, there came a knock at the door.

  “Oh, blast,” muttered Sir Edward, under his breath. “Come in.”