A Heart of Stone

by Barbara Cartland

  Vanora smiled.

  “I have been in the garden,” she explained, “and down to the sea. It was all so beautiful that I am afraid I lost count of time.”

  She thought as she spoke it did not really matter when she came in.

  Then the Earl said,

  “I came to ask you if you would be very kind and dine with us tonight. We have just discovered when the newcomers arrived that we are thirteen.”

  “And that is not lucky!” Vanora exclaimed.

  “My aunt and two other women in the party have said that nothing will make them challenge Fate by sitting at a table when there are thirteen present.”

  “And only one of them is supposed to die,” Vanora ventured.

  “I know that,” the Earl replied, “but I have no great wish for it to be me at the moment.”

  “Of course not! You have too much to do in your life before you leave it,” Vanora insisted.

  The Earl raised his eyebrows.

  “More than I am doing already?”

  “But naturally,” Vanora said without thinking, “as you have only just become Chieftain of your Clan. Every new Chieftain brings changes, fresh ideas and, of course, improvements.”

  “So that is what you are expecting me to do?” the Earl asked. “I had the idea that the Clan of the MacFiles was in perfect condition and it was quite unnecessary for me to interfere.”

  “If that is what you have been told, my Lord, it’s untrue. I have never yet known a satisfied Elder or a Clansman who did not want something he had been unable to obtain from his last Chieftain.”

  The Earl chuckled.

  “Now you are trying to frighten me and I have the uncomfortable feeling that you are right. So, Miss Bruce, it is essential that you should not make us thirteen at the table tonight.”

  “I am delighted to accept your invitation, my Lord, if only to save you and your guests from anything that might be accounted bad luck.”

  She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece as she spoke and added,

  “In which case I had better go and dress. I suppose that dinner is at eight o’clock, my Lord?”

  “Eight o’clock precisely,” the Earl replied. “And thank you for saying you will join us.”

  He walked towards the door as he spoke.

  Vanora hastily closed the drawer of her desk and then she hurried upstairs.

  The housekeeper had already been informed that she was dining in the dining room and a bath was ready for her in front of the fireplace.

  She thought that the guests might realise that she had been invited as an afterthought, so she deliberately put on one of her more elegant gowns.

  It had been very expensive and had been greatly admired at the ball when she had last worn it.

  It was a ball given by one of her mother’s friends and she had been invited not only to the ball itself but to the dinner that preceded it.

  She remembered now that the gentlemen on either side of her had paid her endless compliments and her dance card was filled up even before the dinner party reached the ballroom.

  A thought suddenly struck her as she was walking towards the drawing room.

  There was just an off-chance that one of the people staying here tonight might have seen her in London and so would recognise her.

  It was not likely, but she felt nervous and a little worried as a footman opened the drawing room door for her.

  The room seemed full of people, but to her relief she quickly saw the Earl.

  He looked magnificent in evening dress with lace at his throat and he was standing in front of the fireplace.

  When she appeared, he walked forward and began,

  “Now I must introduce you to my friends and it is very good of you, Miss Bruce, to join us.”

  When they moved into the dining room, the table looked magnificent. It was ornamented with silver goblets, which Vanora was certain had been in the family for many generations.

  The food was really delicious and she thought no one could look more impressive or handsome than the Earl sitting at the head of the table.

  She found that Major Morgan was on her right.

  She had heard him say to the Earl that he had been in India and so she tactfully asked him about that country, saying that it was a place she had always wanted to visit.

  He was, she thought, somewhat reluctant to talk about India.

  She did not know why, but she thought that there was something about the Major that was unpleasant and she could not explain it even to herself.

  But she was using her ‘third eye’ which was what the Earl used.

  Her instinct told her at once that Major Morgan was not only an unpleasant man but an untruthful one.

  It was with a sense of relief that she talked to the gentleman on her other side and found that he had come to Scotland because he wanted to catch his first salmon and shoot his first stag.

  “I have fished quite a lot in the South,” he said, “but I am told that our host’s river is filled with salmon and I want to be able to boast that I have caught a large number of them.”

  Vanora smiled.

  “That is what everyone hopes. The rivers are doing well at the moment and I am sure you will be successful.”

  “If I shoot my first stag,” he said proudly, “and it has a fine head, I will have it mounted.”

  “And your children, when you have them, will look at it enviously,” Vanora said, “and try to shoot an even bigger one!”

  “I know that is true,” he replied. “It is what I felt about my father’s first stag’s head when I first saw it. I think I was three or four at the time.”

  “And you waited all this while before coming to Scotland?” Vanora asked.

  “I was with the Army of Occupation in France and then, when my Regiment returned, I did not have the time to come to Scotland. But now, thanks to an invitation from our host, I am delighted to be here.”

  “And I can only wish you every success,” Vanora replied. “I am sure that you will find Scotland as exciting as most sportsmen do.”

  The young gentleman raised his glass.

  “Thank you for that and may I say that you are far too lovely to be a Scot and, if you are, it is London’s loss!”

  Vanora laughed.

  As she did so, she realised from the top of the table that the Earl was looking at her.

  She wished that she was sitting next to him and she had the absurd idea that he was thinking the same.

  Then she told herself firmly that she was just being imaginative.

  The two women on either side of him were well-dressed and, although not especially beautiful, they were attractive and obviously amusing to talk to.

  She had been aware that the Earl was laughing and they were laughing too, but she was too far down the table to hear what was being said.

  As was usual in Scotland, and had always happened when Vanora was at her home, the Chieftain’s piper played round the table as dinner ended.

  He had started to fill his bag down the passage and they heard the first notes very faintly in the distance.

  And then the sound of the pipes grew louder and louder until he entered the room and he was a tall good-looking man and, of course, he was wearing the MacFile tartan.

  First he played one of the special tunes of the Clan.

  Then, as he started Over the Sea to Skye, Vanora felt tears come into her eyes as it was a tune that always moved her.

  It always upset her and made her unhappy to think how nearly successful Bonnie Prince Charlie had been and how many people had subsequently suffered because they believed in him and had gladly followed him.

  As the notes rang out, she looked up the table and could see that the Earl was watching her.

  She had a strong feeling that he understood what she was thinking and again she was almost certain that he felt the same.

  Then the piper played a more cheerful tune until finally he stopped beside the Earl’s chair.

  As w
as traditional, the Earl took a small silver cup from the table. It was filled with whisky and so the piper accepted it.

  He raised the glass to the Earl and called out,

  “Slainte Var!”

  Then he drank.

  The Earl thanked him and all the guests applauded before the piper left the room.

  After that Lady Sophie rose and took the ladies into the drawing room.

  Vanora found that they not only admired her gown but were very curious as to who she was.

  She was nervous that they might ask her questions that it would be difficult for her to answer, so she went to the window to look out at the moon and the stars shining over the sea.

  She was still standing a little way away from the other women in the party when the gentlemen joined them.

  Card tables had been arranged at one end of the drawing room and it was obvious that bridge was what the gentlemen wanted to play.

  The women gathered round the fire which had just been lit as, although it was summer, there was generally a chill wind from the sea after dark.

  It was then that Vanora felt it would be easy for her to slip away from the party.

  The Earl had by now seated himself at one of the card tables with three other men who were staying in the house.

  Several women moved in to watch the game.

  One woman in particular, who Vanora had heard called Lady Ruth, was leaning over the Earl’s shoulder. She was quite the most attractive of the guests.

  She was also whispering in his ear and it occurred to Vanora that perhaps Lady Sophie had asked her because she wanted her nephew to be married.

  The Earl seemed to be listening to what she said and the two of them with their heads close together made, Vanora thought, a pretty picture.

  ‘There is no reason for me to stay,’ she told herself.

  She managed to move slowly towards the door.

  Then, when everyone was talking to someone else, she slipped out without saying goodnight.

  She told herself it would be a mistake to outstay her welcome and she had done what they wanted of her.

  And anyway she was not really one of the party but merely someone useful.

  When she reached her bedroom, she undressed and then she stood for a long time at the window.

  It was not so much that she was thinking. She was just seeing the beauty that lay before her and letting it seep into her soul.

  ‘This is my Scotland and where I belong,’ she told herself.

  Yet, although she could not put it into words, she wanted more, so much more that she felt that she would never attain it however hard she tried.

  It was quite late when she finally climbed into bed.

  Even so she found it hard to sleep and lay awake thinking of the books downstairs and how much more there was to do.

  She had found one book today that she was longing to discuss with the Earl, but she was not certain whether he would have the time.

  It was ‘The Essays of Francis Bacon,’ a first edition published in 1597, which contained ten essays.

  She was sure that it was extremely valuable and she also wanted to ask the Earl if there was any chance of the second and third editions being in the library.

  It was then when she was thinking about the books that she remembered something.

  She had left the catalogue she was making of them on her desk and it was not locked away.

  She appreciated better than the Earl how valuable the books were and it would be wrong to let anyone see her catalogue and steal the books before she had time to finish identifying them.

  On other nights she had locked her catalogue away and she also locked the door of the library before she went upstairs.

  Tonight, because she was thinking about the dinner party, she had omitted both precautions.

  Getting out of bed she pulled on her dressing gown, which was a very pretty satin one trimmed with an ancient lace she had bought at a bazaar.

  She picked up the candle by her bed that was small and not too heavy.

  Letting herself out of her room, she went down the long passage. Then to the staircase that led to the far end of The Castle where the library was situated.

  Everything was very quiet.

  Vanora thought that by now the house party must have gone to their rooms and in any case they were some way away from where she slept.

  She went into the library and found as she expected that she had left her catalogue on the desk.

  It was obvious that no one had touched it, but she told herself that it was something she should not do again.

  She started to tidy up her pens and pieces of paper she had used to make notes.

  Suddenly she could hear the sound of someone approaching.

  She had no wish to be found in the library in only her dressing gown by a servant or by anyone else.

  Quickly and instinctively she blew out the candle she had placed on the writing desk and then she slipped behind the curtains of one of the long windows.

  In the window there was a window seat upholstered in the same damask as the curtains.

  Vanora climbed up onto the seat and stood holding together the curtains in front of her and she was scared that they might fall open to reveal her presence.

  She heard someone come into the library and then she realised that it was not one person but two.

  She heard them shut the door behind them and then, as she held her breath, they seemed to walk towards her.

  They came near and a man’s voice said,

  “Now you start here looking where Harry told you and I will cope with the picture.”

  Even as the man spoke she recognised his voice.

  It was Major Morgan.

  There was a pause before his wife Alice replied,

  “Harry told us that ‘the Folio’ was on the top shelf. I shall have to go up onto the balcony.”

  There was silence for a moment and then Major Morgan said,

  “I think the steps are on the other side. You should have no difficulty.”

  Vanora heard them walk across the room.

  Then, when she was certain that they were some distance from her, she gently opened the two curtains she was holding and peeped through the gap.

  She saw that the Morgans had brought two candles with them and one was on the floor near the mantelpiece.

  To her horror she could see Major Morgan lifting down the portrait painted by Holbein.

  Vanora had already ascertained when in the library that the picture was a portrait of the fourth Earl of Glenfile and there had been no need for anyone to tell her how valuable it was.

  Even as she peeped at Major Morgan, she saw his wife coming round the balcony and going to the far end where the shelves were full of books that Vanora had not yet had time to investigate.

  Now she saw that Mrs. Morgan was pulling out the books from the top shelf and putting them down carelessly on the floor of the balcony.

  Vanora knew without even questioning what they had meant when they said ‘the Folio’.

  They were undoubtedly referring to the First Folio of Shakespeare which she had been hoping to find.

  Her eyes were once again on Major Morgan.

  He now had the frame containing the Holbein down on the floor and was taking the picture out of the frame.

  The frame itself was clearly old and valuable and she wondered why he did not take it at the same time as the picture.

  Then, as he freed it comparatively easily from the frame, she saw him reach towards a black bag he had put down on the floor beside the candle.

  Only as he drew something from it did she realise what he intended to do.

  He had a replica of Holbein’s portrait, which he intended to substitute in the frame.

  No one, unless they were very observant and very knowledgeable, would realise what had happened and in the meantime he would then be in possession of the real Holbein.

  Vanora drew in her breath at the idea of it being stolen a
nd doubtless lost for ever.

  She peeped again at what Alice Morgan was doing.

  She had moved all the volumes at the end of the top shelf onto the floor of the balcony and now she reached out her hand and gave a little cry of excitement.

  “I have found it! I have found it, Cyril!”

  She spoke in a whisper but it carried to her husband in the empty room.

  “Good,” he replied. “Harry will be delighted. Of course we shall have to give him a share of the spoils.”

  “But not too big a share,” Alice said sharply. “And I have also found the Chaucer he told us about.”

  “Splendid!” Major Morgan exclaimed. “Is it the edition we wanted?”

  Alice had to bend down towards her candle which was on the floor of the balcony.

  “It is entitled The Workes of Geoffrey Chaucer,” she said, “published by W. Thynne.”

  “That’s it,” Major Morgan crowed, “and, when I have put this picture back, the sooner we get out of here the better.”

  “Does it really look like the original?” Alice asked.

  “It’s the spitting image of it,” her husband replied. “You can always trust those Indians to do a good job when it comes to painting or carving.”

  “Then if you have finished,” Alice said, “come and help me put back these books because they are heavy and I am tired.”

  “I will,” Major Morgan replied.

  As he spoke, he lifted up the frame with the false picture in it over the mantelpiece.

  It was difficult to see at a distance and Vanora was almost certain that the average person would not notice any difference when they came into the library.

  ‘People see just what they expect to see,’ she told herself.

  She knew it was very clever of the Major to have brought a substitute for the Holbein he was stealing.

  If she had not been here by accident, no one coming in or out of the library would have looked twice at the Holbein picture to see if it was real.

  It was a different story where the Shakespeare First Folio and the Workes of Chaucer were concerned.

  It might have been weeks or even months before she would have reached the books on the top shelf.

  Now Major Morgan was climbing onto the balcony by the steps that were out of sight.