Gift Of the Gods

by Barbara Cartland

She only knew that the idea of marriage to somebody so much older than herself frightened her and now that she was actually confronted with what had only been a fantasy, she wished to avoid committing herself in any way.

  As she could not discuss her feelings for the Duke of Exminster with Penelope, she put down his note and said quickly,

  “What flowers have you received, dearest?”

  Penelope had in her hand the long flower box. She opened it and inside Alisa could see that there was just one pink rose.

  “What a strange gift!” she exclaimed. “Who sent you that?”

  Her sister held out the card that was in the box and on it Alisa read,

  “From a rose to its twin.”

  She laughed.

  “You can never get away from being described as a rose, dearest, and, of course, in your pink gown you look exactly like one.”

  “I am sick of being told so,” Penelope said sharply, “and that tiresome Major Coombe keeps teasing me about it.”

  “It is really a compliment.”

  “It is one I don’t want from him!”

  She picked up the bouquet and said,

  “This is better! I have the wonderful idea, dearest, that you and I will beat the Gunning sisters.”

  “In what way?”

  “You will marry a Duke and so shall I.”

  Alisa looked at Penelope wide-eyed.

  “Do you mean the Duke you were dancing with last night?”

  “Of course I do!” Penelope replied. “And I can assure you that he is very ardent.”

  She watched the expression on Alisa’s face as she went on,

  “If we both become Duchesses, I am sure that we will be in the history books.”

  Alisa was silent.

  When she had been introduced to the Duke of Hawkeshead, she had thought him an extremely unprepossessing man.

  He had a red face and was not in the least good-looking. Moreover, she had not liked the manner in which he was looking at Penelope, which somehow, although she could not explain it exactly, seemed an impertinence.

  He had also been somewhat untidily dressed, and towards the end of the evening she had noticed that he became even redder in the face and talked over-loudly as if he had been drinking a great deal.

  She wanted to say to Penelope that the Duke was the last sort of man she wanted her to marry.

  Then she thought that it would be a mistake to sound too critical and she merely said,

  “You are such a success, dearest, there is no hurry for you to make up your mind and I think that Aunt Harriet is quite resigned to having us here. In fact, although she would never admit it, she is enjoying the excitement of it all.”

  “Of course she is.” Penelope agreed. “And that reminds me, I forgot to tell you that there was a note last night from Mrs. Lulworth, saying that she wants some more creams immediately and is leaving two hundred empty pots here for us today.”

  “Two hundred!” Alisa exclaimed. “How splendid! Now perhaps we can afford one more gown each.”

  “I want a great deal more than that,” Penelope answered. “I cannot bear to be seen again in pink and my evening gown is in tatters!”

  Alisa knew this was almost true.

  She and Penelope had both had to repair their gowns and, although they had tried to add different coloured ribbons, they were quite certain that the women in the parties they attended were not deceived and knew that they were each wearing the same gown night after night.

  Alisa was mentally counting up how much money they would receive for two hundred pots, but they were already in debt to Mrs. Lulworth and she was very much against asking her for more credit.

  She did not have to speak for Penelope to know what she was thinking.

  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Alisa!” she said. “Let us enjoy ourselves while we have the chance and, if both our future husbands are enormously rich, why should we have to pinch and scrape to please nothing but your tiresome conscience?”

  “I wish you would not talk as if I had agreed to – marry the Duke, who has not even – asked me,” Alisa said.

  “But he intends to do so and you will accept him, so why pretend?”

  “I have not decided – whether I will or – not,” Alisa replied in a small voice.

  “How can you be so ridiculous?” Penelope asked. “Have you forgotten the alternative to being a Duchess? To go back to the country and sit, seeing nobody and doing nothing but copying out Papa’s manuscripts.”

  “I have you and I am very happy,” Alisa said.

  The way she spoke made Penelope immediately contrite.

  “Forgive me, dearest, for being so horrid, but you know that what is happening now will never happen again.”

  She felt that Alisa did not understand and she explained,

  “We are a success because we are new and the Beau Monde is always intrigued by something new and sensational. But in a few months, perhaps sooner, they will be used to us. Then there will be other sisters, perhaps even triplets, to take our place, and we shall be forgotten.”

  Alisa laughed.

  “I don’t think that is likely to happen, but I understand what you are saying.”

  “We must be like the farmers at home,” Penelope said, “who always say make hay while the sun shines and that is what we have to do. So thank your Duke very prettily for the flowers and promise to dance with him at my Duke’s ball the night after next.”

  “He is giving a ball?” Alisa exclaimed in surprise.

  “He says it is for me,” Penelope replied, “and I have the feeling that he intends to propose to me that evening and then announce it. He likes to cause a sensation.”

  It flashed through Alisa’s mind that that was the last way in which she would wish to proclaim her engagement, as she was sure that it would be very embarrassing. But again she thought that it would be a mistake to say so and instead she asked,

  “When do you plan that we shall go to the country to make all those face-creams?”

  “I suppose we shall have to go tomorrow,” Penelope answered. “The only invitation we shall have to chuck is with that boring friend of Aunt Harriet’s who is giving a luncheon simply because we are fashionable.”

  “Perhaps it would be unkind to behave like that to her,” Alisa suggested.

  “I am not concerned with her feelings,” Penelope replied, “but it is a terrible bore to have to waste a whole day by going home.”

  “There is no need for you to come,” Alisa said. “I can catch an early stagecoach and I am sure that there will be one returning late in the afternoon.”

  “I have a better idea – !” Penelope cried.

  There was another rat-tat on the door and another bouquet of flowers and Alisa forgot to ask Penelope what it was she had been about to say.

  She learnt what her sister was planning late that evening after they had been to a very grand Reception at the French Embassy at which both the King and the Earl had been present.

  Alisa had not spoken to the Earl alone, but she had been vividly aware that he was there and also that while she was talking to the Duke of Exminster his eyes were watching her.

  She thought he looked more bored and cynical than usual, until she noticed him talking to a very attractive lady with dark hair and flashing eyes, who was not unlike Madame Vestris.

  ‘I suppose he only admires brunettes,’ she told herself and then wondered why the thought was curiously depressing.

  It was when they reached home just before midnight that Penelope said,

  “I have fixed everything for tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean?” Alisa enquired.

  “We are going to the country with four horses, which means it will not only be quicker but far less tiring.

  Alisa looked at her in surprise and Penelope exclaimed,

  “You can guess whose carriage will be taking us! After all there is only one person to whom our cream-making is no secret.”

  “You cannot mean �
� the Earl?”

  “Of course it is the Earl,” Penelope replied. “When I told him tonight what we had to do, he said at once that his horses will be at our disposal.”

  “How could you do such a thing?” Alisa asked almost angrily. “We are under an – obligation to him already and I have no desire to make it – worse!”

  “You became involved with him in the first place,” Penelope said, “and actually there was no need for me to plead with him. I merely said that we had to leave the Reception early because we would have such a tiring day tomorrow. And when he asked me why and I told him that our creams were in such demand that Mrs. Lulworth wanted more, he said at once that he would arrange for us to travel in comfort.”

  “I wish you had discussed it with me first,” Alisa said.

  Penelope laughed.

  “You would only have said no and I should have asked him anyway, so what was the point?”

  When Penelope had left her and Alisa was alone, she thought of quite a number of arguments she might have put forward to show that they should not accept any more favours from the Earl.

  Then she told herself that there was no use trying to prevent Penelope from doing anything she wished to do.

  ‘He must – think we are very – forward,’ she told herself before she went to sleep.

  *

  The following morning, Alisa was just putting on her bonnet when Penelope burst into her room.

  “Who do you think is waiting for us downstairs?” she asked.

  The way she spoke made Alisa’s heart miss a beat, but Penelope did not wait for her to reply.

  “The Earl is driving us himself,” she said, “and, as the horses are fresh, he says we are not to keep him waiting!”

  She slipped out of the room before Alisa could say anything, so she merely picked up the small case in which she had packed her old gown and an apron and ran down the stairs.

  Outside the front door, looking magnificent and wearing his top hat at a slightly raffish angle, was the Earl.

  He was driving a different phaeton from the highly-perched one in which Alisa had travelled the first time she had met him.

  This one was lower and drawn by a team of four perfectly matched jet-black stallions. As he had rightly said, they were fresh and difficult to hold.

  The two girls climbed in beside him and, having stowed away the box that contained the pots from Mrs. Lulworth, the coachman jumped up behind and they were off.

  It was only as they drove out of the square that Alisa realised that, having stepped into the phaeton first, she was sitting next to the Earl with Penelope on her other side.

  He was concentrating on his horses and Alisa thought that perhaps, because he was doing something he enjoyed, he did not look so bored as he did at the evening parties.

  In fact, as he glanced at her, there was a faint smile on his lips as he said,

  “You look surprised to see me.”

  “I am more than surprised – I am – apologetic,” Alisa answered. “I had no idea – that you would put yourself to the trouble of driving us – yourself.”

  “I thought that you would travel quicker and I am also interested to see where you live after you were so secretive about it.”

  Alisa remembered how she had avoided his questions the first time when she had had luncheon with him and she replied,

  “I don’t think – that you will find it very – exciting.”

  As the horses were travelling very fast, it was not possible to have much conversation during the journey, which they achieved in record time.

  When they turned in at the ill-kept moss-covered drive and had their first glimpse of the Manor House, Alisa felt that for the moment it looked smaller than it had ever done before.

  At the same time its weather-beaten bricks and gabled roofs were beautiful because it was home.

  It was then that the Earl told them what he intended to do.

  “I have a friend not far from here who possesses some horses I want to see,” he said. “What I suggest is that you do your work and I will return to have a late luncheon with you, after which I hope we shall be able to return to London.”

  “A – late – luncheon?” Alisa faltered.

  She was thinking that there would be nothing in the house to eat, except possibly some eggs from the chickens, which were often very erratic in their laying.

  The Earl smiled.

  “I have taken the precaution,” he said, “of bringing my luncheon and yours with us.”

  Alisa drew in her breath.

  Somehow she felt it was an insult that he should provide his own food. But then she told herself that he was only being practical and there was nothing she could do but accept his offer gracefully.

  “It – is very kind of – you to be so – considerate,” she said.

  As she spoke, she thought that he sensed her feelings, because there was that twinkle in his eyes and a distinct twist to his lips.

  As soon as they were in the house and the Brigstocks had exclaimed with excitement at seeing them, Alisa and Penelope rushed upstairs to change their gowns for the old muslins they had made themselves and then hurried to the still room.

  Fortunately, Emily was there, and they sent her into the garden to pick the cucumbers and the lettuce leaves, while Alisa started mixing the preparations that her mother had left behind her and Penelope fetched the pots of honey they required.

  They worked at a feverish pace.

  Alisa was frightened that they would not have finished by the time the Earl returned and he would resent not being able to leave for London as soon as he wished to do.

  Gradually, one by one, the pots were filled, and there were only eleven left empty that they did not enough ingredients for.

  “They will have to wait for another day,” Penelope said firmly. “Mrs. Lulworth is certain to want the strawberry cream, but when I looked in the garden just now I saw it will be at least three weeks before they are ready for picking.”

  “I hope that we will have to come back to make more creams before that,” Alisa replied.

  “Actually, I feel in my bones that this will be the last batch we will ever make,” Penelope said. “When we are Duchesses, we will sweep into Mrs. Lulworth’s shop and complain if she does not have a new and different sort of face-cream to offer us!”

  Alisa laughed at the idea.

  Yet, every time Penelope spoke about their being Duchesses, she had a strange sensation that was almost like a feeling of repugnance.

  However, there was no time to think now and, when finally the pots were ready and she had changed her gown again and hurried downstairs, it was to find the Earl in their sitting room, looking at her unfinished painting of the primroses.

  “I am – sorry if we have – kept you – waiting,” Alisa blurted out breathlessly.

  “I was thinking that this would make an excellent pair to the one you have already given me,” he replied.

  It was the first time he had mentioned the painting she had sent him and she blushed as she said,

  “I thought – perhaps you would think it very poor – recompense for the very large – cheque you gave me – but there was nothing in the house that would not look – ridiculous beside your treasures.”

  “I was delighted to have it.”

  Alisa looked at him, wondering if he was speaking politely or if he meant what he said.

  Then Penelope came into the room, crying out,

  “How could you have brought us such delicious things to eat? Mrs. Brigstock has set them all out in the dining room and I am so hungry that I cannot wait another moment!”

  The Earl had certainly been very considerate, and, as they sat down at the table where they had eaten for so many years, Alisa thought that because it was a picnic without servants to wait on them, it was the most enjoyable luncheon they had ever had.

  Penelope chattered away and the Earl, sitting between them in her father’s chair, seemed relaxed and amused.


  He had taken the precaution of bringing with him his own wines and the only thing Mrs. Brigstock had to prepare was some hot coffee to end the meal.

  “I could not eat another crumb!” Penelope sighed at length. “But I deserved every mouthful because Alisa and I have worked this morning at such a speed that it would create a record anywhere in the world!”

  “I am sure the women who benefit from your labours will appreciate it,” the Earl remarked drily.

  “The creams really are good!” Alisa said defiantly.

  “I am aware of that,” the Earl replied.

  She thought that he must have seen their beneficial effect on Madame Vestris and she had a feeling that was almost one of pain, which she could not explain to herself.

  “I think perhaps – you will want to be – returning to – London,” she said.

  She thought that he might be planning to see Madame Vestris at the King’s Theatre before her performance or perhaps he was counting the hours until he could take her out to supper afterwards.

  “There is no hurry,” the Earl replied, “and Ben has to clear up what is left of our picnic, so I suggest you show me the rest of the house, which incidentally I find very attractive.”

  “You cannot mean – that!” Alisa exclaimed.

  “Why not?” the Earl questioned. “Your home is Elizabethan and it is a period that has always fascinated me.”

  Alisa’s eyes widened.

  “As it has me! I love to read about the way Queen Elizabeth lifted the heart of the nation and made us a great country.”

  “That is exactly what she did,” the Earl agreed, “and we need another Queen to do the same thing today.”

  Alisa looked at him in surprise.

  Then she remembered that since the death of Princess Charlotte, the heir to the throne, after the King’s brothers who had no sons, would be the little daughter of the Duke of Kent, who was called Victoria.

  “I think the Monarch should always be a man, Penelope said, “and the King I would like to have met is Charles II.”

  “Since he had an eye for a pretty woman, he would certainly have looked at you,” the Earl said.

  “Why not?” Penelope replied, “in which case I would have become a Duchess in my own right.”