A Change of Hearts

by Barbara Cartland

  “And would you like to be a Duchess?”

  “Not particularly, but it would please my Papa, who wants me, as you know, to move in the same Society as Mama did before he spirited her away to America.”

  “Not quite in the same manner that my father spirited away her sister.”

  “Now that was really romantic,” agreed Carol. “I only wish someone would fall in love with me in the same way.”

  She spoke wistfully and Neisa remarked,

  “I am certain that you will find someone who will. But you do realise that my mother lived a very strange and unusual life and, although she never complained, much of it was very uncomfortable.”

  “Did she mind?”

  “She was so much in love with Papa that, if they had told her she had to live on the pavement like some of the Indian beggars do, I believe she would have accepted it quite happily just because she was with him.”

  “That is what I want,” asserted Carol. “You don’t understand, Neisa. I want to love someone who loves me and who is not in the least interested that I am rich enough to buy him anything he wants.”

  Neisa put out her hand and laid it on Carol’s arm.

  “I am sure, dearest, you will find a man like that. It upsets me to see you so disillusioned and so bitter. Try to accept things as they are and leave the future in the hands of God.”

  “I don’t suppose that God is particularly interested in the complaints of a girl who is too rich. We all know He is concerned with the poor, the needy and – ”

  “And those who seek love,” interrupted Neisa. “As you have just said, love does not depend on money.”

  “I do agree with you. At the same time you don’t really understand what I am feeling, but you will after this weekend. Anyway, if nothing else, we will both enjoy seeing the Marquis’s horses and if I tell Papa about them, he will want to buy some which are even better.”

  “Which you will enjoy,” said Neisa softly. “It can be very frustrating when one is longing for a ride, but has nothing on four legs to accommodate one!”

  Carol laughed and then she kissed Neisa.

  “You are trying to make me ashamed of myself for continually complaining. Well, I am determined to make you eat your words on Monday when you come back from the Marquis’s and you find that the young gentlemen who paid you so much attention will have disappeared.”

  “Do you mean to say,” Neisa replied, horror-struck, “that we are going to tell them we have deceived them?”

  “No, of course not – but out of sight, out of mind. When you are no longer there, they will look for another heiress who is more available!”

  *

  They went to bed early again that night after they had spent another happy day laughing, talking and arguing with each other.

  Neisa realised that Carol had not minded that she had been invited to three different parties, which, because she was with her, she had refused.

  She begged her to go, but Carol said she was sick of parties and she only hoped that her father would let her go back to America soon.

  “There are so many rich people in America,” she explained, “that no one takes any particular notice of me. Also, as you know, Society there is not confined to just one set of people who are born into a certain position.”

  “I always understood it embraces anyone who can afford it,” replied Neisa, “which does mean we are back to money!”

  “I suppose that is true of the First Avenue set, but Papa seems to know everyone from the top to the bottom and I think that is much more fun.”

  Neisa did not say anything more.

  She was well aware that Mr. Waverton wanted his daughter to marry into the best Society available.

  Carol was making plans so that no one could ruin the deception they intended to play on the Marquis’s party.

  “I am sending the carriage straight back to London as soon as it has dropped us at Denholme Park,” she told Neisa, “and I will tell them to come back for us very late on Sunday night so that we can leave early on Monday if we want to. I don’t want the coachmen to have a chance to gossip with the other servants.”

  “I had forgotten that they might give us away.”

  “Papa always says if you want something done you have to think of every top, bottom and side of it and that is what I am trying to do where our charade is concerned.”

  “That is just the right word for it,” smiled Neisa, “or perhaps drama would be a better word.”

  “Let’s hope that it does not turn into one!”

  The girls kissed each other good night.

  Neisa found it difficult to sleep, as she was so excited at what would happen the next day.

  Although she knew her father would think Carol’s plan was wrong, she wanted to make Carol happy.

  If this really amused her, why should she complain?

  *

  The maids had already packed all their delightful new dresses into smart trunks.

  Neisa knew that she had to remember that the one with Carol’s initials on was the trunk she must have in her bedroom.

  When she was dressed in the travelling gown Carol had bought for her and wearing the hat to go with it, she looked in the mirror and found it hard to recognise herself.

  The only person who had to be let into their secret was Carol’s lady’s maid.

  Hannah had been with Carol for five years and she trusted her completely.

  Hannah was, as it so happened, an Englishwoman, who had gone out to America to marry an American who changed his mind at the last moment.

  He abandoned her in New York with no money and it was just at that moment that Carol wanted a new lady’s maid as hers had left to be married. She had engaged Hannah on an impulse because she was English.

  It was something she never regretted, as Hannah came from the old school of English servants, who were utterly and completely loyal to whoever employed them.

  She looked after Carol as if she was a very precious child who could not look after herself.

  When she was told the secret that the two girls were planning, she giggled,

  “Well, that’s something new at any rate. If you asks me, Miss Carol, it’ll make your father laugh when he hears about it.”

  “We are much more frightened he might be angry,” said Neisa.

  “The Master’s got a sense of humour. He knows as we all do that Miss Carol, pretty though she be, is run after for her money. I sees the world from another angle and it’s a good thing too!”

  “I thought you would understand, Hannah, and it will be fun for Miss Neisa to think that she is rich instead of having to count the pennies as she does at home.”

  “You’re both as pretty as pictures,” chirped Hanna, “and if the gentlemen we’re to meet don’t think so, then they must be as blind as bats!”

  “I have the feeling,” came in Neisa, “that we shall be playing second fiddle to the horses. I was looking at the sporting page of The Times yesterday and there was a long description of the Marquis’s new racehorses. One of them has just won the big race at Newmarket.”

  “Very well, we will just have to compete with the horses,” Carol cried, “and if no one gives us a second look, then we will know exactly where we stand!”

  They both laughed at the idea.

  They drove away in a smart carriage with Hannah following them with their luggage in a brake.

  Neisa felt it would be difficult for anyone to ignore either Carol or herself.

  As far as she was concerned, her new clothes had transformed her – from what could be described as a plain little sparrow into a Bird of Paradise!

  She boasted a string of pearls round her neck worth thousands of pounds and two pretty bracelets round her wrists were set with real stones.

  Carol had supervised every garment she put on and her hair had been cut and arranged by a top hairdresser.

  Hannah had noted everything he did, making quite certain she could repeat it when they arrived at D
enholme Park.

  If Neisa was looking fantastic, Carol was playing her part very cleverly.

  Her dress was much plainer than Neisa’s and yet it was well cut and accentuated her perfect figure.

  The little hat she wore was exceedingly becoming, although it was much plainer than the one she had chosen for Neisa, but it still had a chic and elegance which only the French could provide.

  “You don’t look to me very much like a poverty-stricken Vicar’s daughter,” commented Neisa with a chuckle.

  “We need not make him quite as poor as he actually is. I can always say if anyone asks questions, I have a rich relative who is kind to me.”

  “I only hope no one will ask me questions,” Neisa sighed, “because I am certain to give the wrong answers and get into a muddle.”

  “They will not ask you any questions,” Carol said scornfully. “They know only too well that if you dressed yourself in diamonds from head to foot, you could well afford it.”

  Now she was bitter again and Neisa remarked,

  “I think you must keep to your part and say sweet, kind and gentle things about everyone, however unpleasant you think they actually are.”

  Carol laughed.

  “That’s true. Papa has always said a man who is a good actor believes every word he is saying. That is why he is suspicious of men in business who are too glib.”

  “That is something you must not be,” replied Neisa.

  They both laughed.

  It was only as they were approaching Denholme Park that Neisa started to become nervous.

  Because she had never been to any grand parties, she felt she might do the wrong thing and upset Carol.

  However, she had never felt shy in the slightest in meeting strangers, having travelled to so many divergent parts of the world with her father.

  She had talked with Potentates and Arab leaders as well as chatting with unusual characters who lived in caves or mountains.

  She wanted to play her part successfully for Carol’s sake and was only afraid that she might let her down by not being familiar with the Social world.

  As they drove up the drive she was entranced with her first sight of the large and imposing house.

  The sunshine was glittering on the windows and the Marquis’s standard was flying proudly on the roof.

  It did not seem real, but something out of a dream.

  They crossed an ancient bridge spanning the lake and as they did so, a flight of white doves flew round the side of the house and settled on the green lawn that sloped down to the water.

  The scene was so beautiful that Neisa caught her breath and felt it was a special omen that everything would go right for Carol.

  The carriage drew up outside the front door.

  As a footman ran down the red carpet, Carol said in a whisper,

  “You climb out first and remember you are me.”

  Neisa did as she was told.

  She walked up the steps to the front door followed by Carol.

  Four footmen were in attendance and a butler who bowed respectfully.

  “I think you must be Miss Waverton,” he began. “His Lordship is expecting you.”

  He walked ahead and threw open a door to a room at the end of the hall.

  As he did so, he announced in a stentorian voice,

  “Miss Waverton and Miss Moore, my Lord.”

  To Neisa the room seemed to swim in front of her and then she saw there were a number of people standing by the fireplace.

  One man detached himself and came towards them.

  She assumed that this was the Marquis, although he was not in any way what she had expected.

  She had known from what she had read about him that he was an aristocrat of considerable consequence.

  She had not expected him to be so good-looking or, in a way she could not explain, authoritative.

  She had also assumed, because he was a friend of Carol’s father, that he would be much older.

  As the Marquis reached her, he held out his hand.

  “I am very delighted to welcome you to Denholme Park, Miss Waverton, and I only wish your father could be with you.”

  “It is most kind of you to have me,” Neisa managed to reply. “And may I introduce my cousin, Neisa Moore.”

  The Marquis shook hands with Carol and turned to introduce them both to his friends.

  They were all gentlemen with the exception of his aunt, Lady Sarah Holme.

  “I am so pleased you could come,” Lady Sarah said to Neisa. “I was so afraid at one time that we would be a bachelor party and I would have to stay upstairs and not be allowed to dine with them. But now you have arrived and there are several other ladies joining us tomorrow.”

  The gentlemen, who were all young and charming, clustered around Neisa.

  But there was one who she thought seemed a little different from the others.

  Neisa was not certain why until he shook her hand.

  Then she had a feeling of revulsion which she could not explain – it was something she very seldom felt about anyone and when she did, she always learned later that her intuition had been right.

  This person was in some way or another up to no good and unpleasant.

  However, there was no question of talking to any particular gentleman.

  They all appeared to be speaking at once and, not surprisingly, discussing horses.

  “You know, of course,” one young man said to Neisa, “that after luncheon we are to have a parade of the horses that will be competing in the steeplechase tomorrow.”

  “The Marquis did mention it in his letter to me,” answered Neisa.

  “It is a tradition in the family,” he continued, “that all our horses and his should be paraded today. Therefore anyone who wishes to change his mount before the actual race can do so.”

  “I call that a very sensible idea.”

  “You will not be surprised to learn,” he confided, “that the Marquis’s horses are usually better than anything we can breed. Therefore, if he does offer me a chance of riding one of his, I am only too pleased to accept.”

  He lowered his voice as he added,

  “I have always suspected that those competing in the race bring their worst animal, so as to make sure they have a good excuse for being provided with another by the Marquis and so have a better chance of winning!”

  Neisa laughed.

  “I think it’s rather clever of them.”

  “I am sure that your father owns the best horses it is possible to find anywhere,” the young man persisted.

  “He certainly has several in America that are very fine,” responded Neisa.

  “That is just what I expected and I daresay when he comes over here, he will buy the cream of the bunch at Tattersall’s, which are far too expensive for anyone like myself!”

  There was a note of envy in the young man’s voice that Neisa did not miss.

  She thought it was just the sort of conversation that would upset Carol.

  She glanced at her cousin.

  Carol was now talking to a young gentleman who looked charming and was obviously anxious for her to hear what he had to say.

  The Marquis offered Neisa a glass of champagne and as she thought it was what Carol would have done, she accepted it.

  “I hope,” he said, “that you are going to enjoy my steeplechase tomorrow. And may I say that after you have viewed the horses, if you want to bet on which will be the winner, we have a special bookie just for my house guests and a quarter of anything he gains goes to charity.”

  Neisa was impressed.

  “That is very good of you, my Lord.”

  “I think that it is something we should do, and also it prevents any ill-feeling amongst those who cannot afford to gamble.”

  The Marquis moved away as he finished speaking and Neisa thought that at least was one point in his favour.

  Everything she had already heard about the dashing young blades of the Social world had not been partic
ularly complimentary.

  Her father deprecated gossip, but it was impossible, even in the village of Little Meadowfield, for people not to talk.

  They somehow learnt about the love affairs of the Prince of Wales and a number of distinguished aristocrats.

  Even Betsy, the woman from the village who came to clean the Vicarage, would say,

  “Them goin’s-on in London would have shocked me mother and there’s no use in sayin’ it wouldn’t!”

  It was inevitable that someone would bring back stories of ‘goings-on’ in high places.

  Many local young girls would find it impossible to obtain employment in Little Meadowfield, so they would travel to London seeking positions in service in one of the grand houses, where apparently there were big parties every night with distinguished visitors and even Royalty.

  When they returned home, or if they were capable of writing, they would tell their parents and anyone else who wanted to listen what they had seen and heard.

  As far as Neisa could make out, there were endless affaires de coeurs between titled gentlemen and beautiful ladies.

  It had all meant very little to her.

  Yet she could not help thinking that undoubtedly the Marquis of Denholme with his title, his horses and his money would be a focus of attention.

  The ladies who arrived later were very smart and certainly not debutantes.

  They had an air of sophistication about them that Neisa had anticipated, but arriving at Denholme Park seemed to intrigue them far more than she had imagined.

  Their delight at being a guest of the Marquis was very evident.

  They looked at him with appealing eyes and talked in soft seductive voices as if they were addressing someone they loved.

  By the time they went into luncheon, Neisa could not help thinking that she and Carol were not in tune with the rest of the party.

  The Marquis announced to his guests that because luncheon was an informal meal, he was not going to place everyone, as he would do at dinner.

  “I just want you to sit with whomever you like,” he said, “and tonight I will choose you partners whom I think you ought to like!”

  They all laughed.

  Two of the ladies who had just arrived, as soon as they entered the dining room, sat down on either side of the Marquis’s chair.