Wish for Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “It is something I am quite content to do,” Mariota answered defiantly.

  “Nonsense,” the Earl retorted in a sharp voice, which she realised he used when he was annoyed. “I don’t have to tell you that, if you went to London, you would be a sensation and in a year’s time your sister, Lynne, will be the toast of St. James’s.”

  Mariota gave a little sigh before she said almost as harshly as the Earl had spoken,

  “If wishes were horses, beggars could ride, my Lord. As it is, we try to accept life as it is and make the best of it.”

  She paused and as the Earl did not speak she added,

  “I hope you will not encourage Lynne to be discontented and, since she has seen you, to yearn for the sort of amusements she will never have.”

  “Are you seriously contemplating that you and Lynne will live here for ever with nothing to enliven your existence except for the occasional distraction of a stranger falling off his horse?”

  Because of the scathing way in which the Earl spoke Mariota longed to reply that they had moments of wild gaiety or that a fortune was waiting for them round the corner.

  Because he had upset her and she felt almost as if he was touching a sore spot she said,

  “If your Lordship finds Queen’s Ford so – unpleasant, I am sure in a few days the doctors will allow you to be – moved to the Duke’s house. Then you will – never have to see us or – think of us again.”

  She thought the Earl would snap back at her, but instead he said in a very different voice,

  “Come here, Mariota!”

  She noticed he used her Christian name, but she did not protest.

  Then, when she did not obey him, he put out his hand to her saying,

  “Come here. I want to say something to you.”

  She moved closer to him and because his hand was outstretched, almost as if she was compelled to do so, she laid hers in it.

  As his fingers closed, he was aware that hers were cold and, when her palm touched his, there was a vibration between them that was inescapable.

  His blue eyes were looking into her grey ones as he said,

  “I have hurt you, Mariota. I did not mean to do so. Forgive me.”

  He spoke to her in a different manner from the way he had before and, because of it and the fact that he was holding her hand, she felt shy.

  Equally, she felt, because he was being kind, a warm response within her breast.

  “I want to help you,” the Earl said, “and while you personally wish to be independent of me, you should think of your father, your pretty sister and your brother whom I have not yet met.”

  “I do – think of – them,” Mariota objected.

  “I know you do and I have already realised that you carry the burdens of the family on your back, but it is something that cannot go on for ever.”

  “Perhaps – something will – happen one day.”

  “What sort of thing?”

  Because he was speaking quietly in a manner that seemed sympathetic and at the same time interested, Mariota replied,

  “I tell myself stories that we will find a treasure in the attics or hidden in the ground. Or perhaps Papa’s book will sell and make us a fortune or a genie will appear in a cloud of smoke to grant me three wishes.”

  She spoke dreamily and was not aware that the Earl was watching her eyes or even that his fingers had tightened on hers.

  “What would your three wishes be?” he asked.

  “That we could restore the house to the way it looked in the past, that Jeremy could have magnificent horses like your stallion to ride and that Lynne could go to London and, as you have said, be the toast of St. James’s.”

  “And what would you wish for yourself?” the Earl asked.

  “I think I should be happy if all those wishes were granted.”

  “I think if you are honest,” he said, “you would wish for somebody to love you and for you to love him. That is what every woman wants.”

  “I – suppose so,” Mariota agreed.

  She was not looking at the Earl as she spoke, but into her dreamland where she lived when she was alone and told herself stories.

  “You have never been in love?” the Earl asked.

  “Only in my – dreams.”

  “And what is your dream-lover like?”

  “Tall, dark, very handsome and a magnificent rider. Strong and authoritative and yet at the same time if anybody is in trouble, kind, considerate and understanding.”

  As Mariota spoke again dreamily, the words came out just as she had thought of them for so long.

  Once again she was seeing the hero of her story climbing the mountains, exploring the world or, and this was one of her favourite tales, winning a race on his own horse.

  She had never seen any of the great Classic races, but she had read about them in the newspapers and sometimes there were steeplechases or point-to-points in the County to which, if they were not too far away, Jeremy would take her.

  But they were usually not very happy occasions, because he was always so frustrated that he could not compete in them himself.

  “I could have beaten that fellow hollow!” he would say as the winner was cheered and acclaimed after he had passed the winning post.

  “I imagine your ideal man will be somewhat difficult to find,” the Earl said.

  Because the dry note was back in his voice, he brought Mariota back to reality.

  Embarrassed that she had been carried away by her own thoughts, she took her hand from his and said quickly,

  “Your Lordship must think I am talking the most arrant nonsense and it is only because I am so much – alone that I – imagine such things.”

  “Will you think I am a fortune-teller if I say that one day your dreams will come true?” the Earl asked.

  “I think that is very unlikely,” Mariota replied. “And now I must go downstairs and help prepare your luncheon. I only hope you will find it edible.”

  “Now you are being unkind to me,” the Earl said, “and I should point out that it is hardly in keeping with your role as a ministering angel.”

  “If that is what I have been,” Mariota replied, “I think your Lordship is almost well enough now to look after yourself without angels.”

  “I very much doubt it. As a matter of fact, if you are interested, my head is aching unpleasantly.”

  Mariota gave a little exclamation of concern.

  “You must lie down at once,” she said. “It is all my fault for talking to you so much. I know Dr. Dawson when he comes tonight will be very annoyed if I tell him that I have upset you.”

  “You have not upset me,” the Earl replied. “You have only worried me a little. I hate problems I cannot solve or obstacles I cannot demolish.”

  Mariota took one of the pillows from behind his head very gently so as not to jerk him.

  “Try to sleep for half an hour before I bring you your luncheon.”

  “I don’t want to sleep,” the Earl replied obstinately. “I want to talk to you.”

  “With the best will in the world, I cannot be in two places at once,” Mariota answered, “and although Mrs. Brindle does her best for us, her cooking is not good enough for you.”

  “Very well, I will let you go,” the Earl agreed, “but will you promise to talk to me again this afternoon while your father is entertaining my sister? You must admit that is only fair.”

  “I would like to talk to you, my Lord,” Mariota said, “but it would be better for you to sleep.”

  “Sleep! Sleep!” the Earl exclaimed. “You and the doctors seem to think it’s a cure for everything. Personally I find it far more healing to listen to you, even when you are being disagreeable to me!”

  “I am not – that is not fair – ’ Mariota began to protest, then realised that the Earl was teasing her.

  His eyes met hers and for no reason she could ascertain she felt the colour rising in her cheeks.

  “Please – try to – sleep,” she begge
d a little incoherently, then slipped from the room closing the door very quietly behind her.

  The Earl did not close his eyes.

  Instead he stared across the room at the vase of flowers Mariota had brought him.

  There was lavender and white lilac and there were also several roses, which were only in bud.

  The whole arrangement looked very young and spring-like and he thought that the flowers were in fact representative of Mariota herself.

  Then he sighed and there was an expression in his eyes that seemed to be one of pain.

  *

  Lady Coddington arrived at nearly twenty past three and immediately went upstairs to her brother’s room.

  She had given up ringing the bell, knowing that it was quite unnecessary for Jacob to be summoned from whatever he was doing in the kitchen to escort her upstairs.

  Instead she told her footman on the carriage to carry in the fruit she had brought with her and without waiting hurried into the house.

  “If I am a little late, Alvic,” she said, “you must forgive me, but luncheon took even longer than usual, even though we started earlier. The Duke is rather inclined to drone on.”

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

  Lady Coddington kissed her brother’s cheek and said to Mariota, who had risen from the chair where she had been sitting by the bedside,

  “Good afternoon, Miss Forde, or please may I call you Mariota? And because I can see my brother is looking much better than he did yesterday, you know how grateful I am to you.”

  “I am afraid his Lordship had a headache again this morning,” Mariota told her.

  Lady Coddington looked concerned and the Earl said quickly,

  “It was nothing and it has gone now.”

  Mariota thought that was very likely untrue, but was aware that he did not wish to talk about his health.

  She was also thinking how lovely Lady Coddington looked.

  For the first time she was not wearing black, but a gown of mauve, the colour of the lilacs that were just coming into bloom in the garden.

  Her bonnet was trimmed with ribbons of the same colour, round her neck was a necklace of amethysts and diamonds and the same stones glittered on her fingers as she pulled off her gloves.

  Because she thought that Lady Coddington would wish to be alone with her brother, Mariota moved towards the door and as she reached it she said,

  “I know father is looking forward to seeing you later, my Lady, and you know where to find him in the study.”

  “Yes, of course,” Lady Coddington replied, “and, as I suspect you are warning me not to overtire my brother, I promise you I will not stay too long with him.”

  “Thank you.”

  She went from the room and Lady Coddington said,

  “What a charming girl she is and so lovely! It is a shame that Lord Fordcombe is so poor that he is unable to go anywhere and will not accept the hospitality of the Duke or any other of the landowners in the County.”

  “Why will he not do that?” the Earl asked in surprise.

  “The Duke says it is because he is too proud to be a guest and not be able to invite his host back.”

  As she spoke, Lady Coddington looked round the room and commented,

  “This is one of the loveliest houses I have ever seen! It really breaks my heart, Alvic, to see the condition it is in at the moment. There is hardly a window where there is not a pane of glass broken and every curtain is in tatters.”

  “Well, there is nothing you can do about it, dear sister. I have just been battling with Mariota because I intended to ask you tomorrow to bring over some food with you.”

  “Food?” Lady Coddington exclaimed in surprise.

  “They cannot afford to keep me,” the Earl said abruptly, “and the youngest girl, who incidentally will be an outstanding beauty, informed me that I am taking the bread out of their mouths.”

  “I never thought of that,” Lady Coddington said. “It is dreadful to think that they are so poor when we are so rich. Surely you could persuade them – ”

  “Don’t waste your breath,” her brother interrupted. “They are as proud as the Devil and the only way you can bring me food from Madresfield is to make me out to be a gourmet who is not satisfied with the meals I am having already.”

  “And are you?” Lady Coddington asked.

  The Earl pursed his lips together before he replied,

  “I rather feel that I am back in the nursery.”

  His sister laughed.

  “I am sure that is very good for you. I have always said your chef’s food is delicious, but too rich.”

  “Then I suggest you ask the Duke’s chef for pâté, some of the brawn for which he is famous, an ox tongue and anything else that is available at the moment.”

  “But supposing that child and her father feel insulted and refuse to accept the food if it arrives here?”

  “I will deal with Mariota and, if there is any difficulty with Lord Fordcombe, I will leave him to you.”

  There was a smile on his sister’s face that the Earl did not miss.

  Then he said,

  “As I imagine his Lordship is waiting for you, I suggest you go to him and come back to me later. In the meantime, I will rest.”

  “If you will do that, I will certainly leave you.”

  She went towards the door.

  Then she exclaimed,

  “But how foolish of me! I had forgotten to tell you that Elizabeth sends her love and asks if she may come over here with me tomorrow.”

  “No, I think that would be a mistake. Tell her to wait until I am better. I really find that too much chatter brings on one of my headaches.”

  “Of course, dearest Alvic, I understand.”

  Lady Coddington went from the room, leaving the Earl with a frown between his eyes and he was still frowning when Mariota came back to see if he needed anything, accompanied by Dr. Mortimer.

  “I am going to be frank with you, my Lord, although you may want to get up and perhaps even to leave Queen’s Ford, it would be an extremely foolish thing to do.”

  Dr. Mortimer waited to hear the Earl protest and, when he did not do so, he went on,

  “I am still a little worried by your headaches and the fact that the bruise has not yet begun to fade. To move would, in my opinion, be foolhardy and might have far-reaching consequences. You must rest until you are very much stronger than you are at present.”

  “But I cannot stay in bed for ever!” the Earl retorted.

  “You have only been here for four days,” Dr. Mortimer replied, “and unless you would like to have the opinion of Sir Wilfred Lawson or another of His Majesty’s physicians, you must believe that I am thinking of your best interests when I say you must rest, my Lord, however boring it may be, until both your head and your shoulder are in very much better condition than they are at the moment.”

  “It is not that I wish to leave Queen’s Ford,” the Earl said, “it’s just that I dislike being in bed.”

  “Very well,” Dr. Mortimer conceded, “you may get up tomorrow and sit in a chair by the window, but in your robe and not dressed. The moment you feel tired or your head hurts you must go back to bed. Does your Lordship understand?”

  “I understand and I also now understand the resentment that other people feel when I give them unwelcome orders.”

  “Then it is undoubtedly very good for you,” Dr. Mortimer smiled. “But I am still prepared, my Lord, for you to ask for one of the physicians to come down from London.”

  “I have every confidence in your ability,” the Earl replied. “It’s just that you are taking a devil of a time to get me well.”

  Dr. Mortimer laughed.

  “Like all young men, you are too impatient and always think there is something better round the corner than you are experiencing now.”

  He paused before he added,

  “Personally, with two such lovely young ladies as Miss Mariota and Miss Lynne to look after you,
I should be an extremely happy man in your place.”

  The Earl for a moment looked cross, as if he resented Dr. Mortimer being so personal in his remarks.

  Then, as if he could not help it, he laughed.

  “All right, Mortimer, you win! I will take it easy for another day or so, but after that I intend to rise with or without your permission!”

  “So be it!” Dr. Mortimer said. “And may I thank you, my Lord, before I leave for the case of what looked to me the most excellent wine which your servants put into my carriage when I arrived.”

  “I hope you will enjoy it, doctor.”

  “That is one thing there is no doubt about!” Dr. Mortimer replied.

  *

  When he was alone, the Earl thought with a feeling of gratification that Hicks had placed quite a number of cases of wine in the cellar without Mariota being aware of it.

  When he had asked his host to join him after dinner to drink a very excellent port that his sister had brought for him from the Duke’s cellar, Lord Fordcombe had not disguised his appreciation.

  It was easy after that to suggest that, if he was drinking claret, he would feel embarrassed if the same wine was not being served downstairs in the dining room.

  Although he thought that Mariota wished to protest, when she saw how delighted her father was with at first the claret then the port or brandy that was offered afterwards, she could not bear to spoil his pleasure.

  Because she had the feeling that whatever she said the Earl would have his own way, she accepted the food which also came with Lady Coddington and as Hicks usually hurried it into the kitchen, she pretended even to herself that she did not know how much there was.

  On the Earl’s instructions, Hicks not only waited on his Master but also in the dining room after his tray had been carried upstairs.

  Mariota knew that her father enjoyed the luxury of having a manservant offer the dishes and pour out the wine, while his daughters could sit through the meal without continually jumping up and down to fetch dishes from the kitchen.

  Because he had another man to talk to, her father spent less time in his study and Mariota was sure he looked forward to Lady Coddington’s visits because she was so interested in the house and also in the history he was writing.