A Battle for Love

by Barbara Cartland

  Again he promised them another party and then at last they had gone and he went back to the drawing room.

  His grandmother, looking rather tired, was standing by the mantelpiece. And Serla was beside her.

  “I have never known more appreciative guests,” the Marquis said. “It was a marvellous party, Grandmama, and only you could have done it so well.”

  “I do so wish, Serla, you could have heard all the charming things everyone said about you,” the Dowager said. “Including His Royal Highness, who wants you and Clive to go there to luncheon very soon as he has a new picture to show you.”

  “Oh, how thrilling!” Serla cried. “I would love to.”

  “Now Grandmama,” the Marquis suggested, “you must go to bed. It’s very late for you, nearly two o’clock.”

  “Is it really?” the Dowager asked. “Well, if I am tired it has been worth it because Serla has been such a success. Have you enjoyed the party, my dear?”

  “Of course, I have,” Serla answered. “And I must tell you something so exciting. I have had my first proposal of marriage.”

  She spoke spontaneously and then she could see the Marquis stiffen and look at her incredulously.

  “What do you mean?” he demanded.

  “Lord Charlton has just asked me to run away with him,” Serla replied.

  “I saw he was very attentive,” the Dowager said, “but I had no idea that he would ask you to marry him.”

  “And what did you say?” the Marquis enquired.

  “I said, of course, that I was engaged to you.”

  “I think it was great impertinence on the part of that young man to suggest such a thing,” the Marquis stormed angrily, “and I have a good mind to tell him so.”

  Serla looked at him in surprise.

  “Surely you are not angry? Your grandmother and you both said that I should try to find myself a husband and I thought when you no longer need me it might be a good idea for me to have a – friend.”

  She stammered over the last word and he said,

  “I hardly call that a friendship. In fact it was an insult and that is how you should have treated it.”

  He spoke so angrily that Serla went very pale.

  She clutched her hands together.

  “I did not mean – to upset you,” she said, “and if it happens again – I will not tell you.”

  With that she turned and ran from the room before the Marquis could stop her.

  He actually took a few steps towards the door, but Serla had pushed it to behind her and he was too late.

  It was then his grandmother said to him sharply,

  “Really, Clive, I think that was very unkind of you and I have never known you to be unkind before.”

  “What right does Charlton have to barge in, making trouble?” the Marquis said gruffly.

  “We both told Serla,” the Dowager reminded him, “when you brought her to London and she became engaged to you as you wished, that when it was all over she would be able to find herself a husband amongst the young men she would meet in London.”

  “It is too soon,” the Marquis countered angrily.

  “That is no reason why she should not keep Lord Charlton, who I think is a charming young man, dangling and if she wants to marry him it would be an excellent marriage for her. He is extremely rich and has the most delightful house in Huntingdonshire.”

  The Marquis was silent and after a few moments, his grandmother went on,

  “I suppose that you will not change your mind and would like to marry Serla yourself?”

  “I have no intention of getting married,” he said quickly. “Look what happened when you tried to push me into doing so with Charlotte. My friend, George Byron, was right when he wrote, ‘Women are angels yet wedlock’s the Devil’.”

  He quoted the last words fiercely, almost as if he wanted to shout them out aloud.

  “Very well, Clive, if that is your decision you are, of course, entitled to do what you want with your own life. At the same time don’t be unkind to Serla. She is so sweet, the sweetest and nicest girl I have ever met in my life and I expect that she will now cry herself to sleep because you are angry with her.”

  He did not answer, but walked to the door.

  “Goodnight, Grandmama,” he called back to her, “and thank you for a magnificent party.”

  He went out and the Dowager stood for some time looking after him.

  There was a faint smile on her lips, even though her eyes were a little worried.

  Serla had gone to her room on the verge of tears.

  She had thought, when she told the Marquis and his grandmother that she had received a proposal of marriage, that they would think that it was rather clever of her.

  How could she have expected him to be angry?

  Their engagement was only a pretence, as he had said so himself, to teach Charlotte a lesson.

  ‘He has spoilt everything,’ she whispered to herself as she undressed. ‘It was a lovely party until the very end.’

  She felt like crying.

  But it was her fault for boasting and her mother would have thought that she was showing off.

  ‘If Lord Charlton loves me,’ she reflected, ‘then I must keep it to myself, because I do realise it is the highest compliment he could pay me to want me to be his wife.’

  The idea was swimming round and round in her mind and she was trying to get it into some kind of sense.

  She went to the window and pulled back the curtain and the sky overhead was filled with stars.

  She thought that everyone at the party seemed to be glittering in the same way.

  Yet something was lacking which she had found at home in profusion with her father and mother.

  She knew that it was love, the love they both had for each other.

  It had seemed to make even the air they breathed different.

  The atmosphere in their tiny cottage could never be repeated in this large and impressive house of the Marquis.

  She looked up at the stars for a long time and then she prayed in a whisper,

  ‘Please, God, give me love. The real love which Papa and Mama had and which is more precious and more wonderful than all the jewels in the world.’

  She thought of all the bright diamonds flashing on the Dowager Marchioness’s head. She herself did not want them, but something intangible that could only come from God.

  ‘I want love – love,’ she said again in her heart.

  Then she recalled that the Marquis was angry with her and she felt again the same misery she had felt when she had left the drawing room and run up the stairs to bed.

  Suddenly she heard behind her a knock on the door and she turned round wondering who it could be.

  She thought perhaps that it was the Dowager, but she would not have knocked.

  She moved across the room, thinking that someone must be standing outside.

  Then she saw a piece of paper being pushed under the door and she bent down and picked it up.

  To read it she had to carry it to the candle which was still alight by the side of her bed.

  What was written was quite short and she read,

  “Forgive me, I did not really mean to be angry, but what you said took me by surprise and I expect I must have been tired.

  You looked much more beautiful than anyone else tonight, so think of that before you go to sleep.

  Clive.”

  Serla read it and felt her heart give a jump for joy.

  He was not angry any longer! It was her fault for telling him about Lord Charlton.

  Still holding what he had written, she climbed into bed and slipped it under her pillow.

  ‘I am happy – I am happy now,’ she said to the stars that she could see through the window, ‘and thank you, God, for looking after me as you always do.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  There was no question of Serla riding the following morning and, when she went down to breakfast, it was to find that the Marquis had
already left the house.

  She went up to the Dowager’s bedroom and found her still in bed with a pile of letters in front of her.

  “More invitations, my dear,” she said, “but we shall have to refuse them.”

  Serla looked surprised.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because Clive wants to go to the country to see some horses that have been delivered at Darincourt Hall and it would be a good idea if you and I both had a rest.”

  “I would love to see the horses,” Serla smiled.

  The Dowager turned over her letters.

  “There are not any important balls until just before Ascot,” she said, “so we can enjoy ourselves in the country without feeling that we are missing anything.”

  Serla was excited at the thought of the horses. It was wonderful riding before breakfast in Hyde Park with the Marquis. But it would be even better if she could gallop wildly over the fields without any interference.

  She told the maid who was looking after her what to pack, but she had already had her instructions. There was nothing for her to do and a visit to Bond Street had been cancelled.

  ‘I have so many clothes already,’ Serla reflected, ‘that they will need a whole room to themselves.’

  She was about to go to the library when the butler came in and handed her a letter on a silver salver and when Serla took it, she guessed who it was from.

  “There’s also a large basket of flowers in the hall, miss, and I wonder where you’d like it to go.”

  Serla knew that this was also from Lord Charlton.

  “I think it had better be put in my bedroom,” she said. “Do you think I could take it down to the country?”

  “It’ll go real easily into the brake which’ll carry his Lordship’s valet and her Ladyship’s lady’s maid.”

  “That will be very kind,” she said, “and perhaps it could be put in my bedroom at Darincourt Hall.”

  She thought it a mistake for the Marquis to see it, as it might make him angry with Lord Charlton again. At the same time it was so exciting to have flowers given to her for the first time in her life.

  She put down the letter and said to Baxter,

  “I think I will come and see the flowers before they are put with the luggage.”

  As she had expected, it was a large and expensive arrangement of orchids and must have cost a lot of money.

  She looked at it for a while and then again asked Baxter to put it with the luggage in case it was forgotten.

  She went back into the room where she had been before and picked up the note.

  As she had expected, Lord Charlton told her how much he loved her and begged her to see him as soon as it was possible.

  “I cannot sleep, I cannot think, I cannot eat,” he wrote, “until I see you again.

  Please darling beautiful Serla have pity on me.”

  Serla thought it was a cry that she could not refuse.

  She therefore went to the writing table and sitting down wrote Lord Charlton a little return note.

  She thanked him for the flowers and for his letter and told him that they were going to the country.

  “We shall be at Darincourt Hall,” she wrote, “and I will let you know when we return. Thank you again for the lovely flowers.

  Serla.”

  She thought that was reasonably encouraging, at the same time not accepting his passionate words of love.

  ‘He is very young,’ she thought, ‘and perhaps this is the first time he has been in love. Whatever happens I must not be unkind to him or make him cynical and angry as the Marquis is because of Charlotte.’

  She put the letter in an envelope and, taking it into the hall, she asked Baxter to have a footman deliver it.

  She then went into the drawing room and picked up a newspaper, wondering if there could be something in The Court Circular about the ball last night.

  The first thing she saw as she opened it was the announcement of Charlotte’s engagement.

  It looked quite impressive, yet she knew once again that the Marquis had won the battle.

  There was a full description of the ball which the Dowager Marchioness had given and a picture of her. And there was no picture of Charlotte and Serla knew that it would please the Marquis.

  She thought, however, that it was rather bad luck for Charlotte that two such important social events should be reported on the same day.

  ‘Charlotte will hate me more than ever,’ she said to herself and gave a little shiver.

  The Marquis had arranged that they should leave at eleven o’clock and it was only with a tremendous effort that everything was ready by the time he wished to go.

  The Dowager came down the stairs with just a few minutes to spare and she looked a little tired.

  The Marquis kissed her good morning and asked,

  “Are you all right, Grandmama? Is it very selfish of me to take you to the country when you could have been resting?”

  “And doubtless go out to dinner this evening?” she replied. “No, my dear boy, I am happy to travel in comfort and, as soon as I reach Darincourt Hall, I will go to bed.”

  “That is very sensible of you and I have carried out your advice that Serla should travel with me in the phaeton while you are comfortable in the closed carriage.”

  It was the first that Serla had heard of this and she looked at the Marquis in some surprise.

  “Are you quite sure,” she said, “that I should not look after your grandmother?”

  “I suspect, although she will not admit it, that she will go to sleep, while if you are with her you will chatter chatter, which will undoubtedly keep her awake.”

  “I don’t chatter chatter,” Serla retorted indignantly. “But I think what you are saying is very sensible.”

  Actually, she thought it would be very exciting to be travelling alone with the Marquis in the phaeton, just as she had done when she ran away. As they drove off, she found that he was thinking the same.

  “The last time we were travelling like this,” he said, “you were pleading with me to take you to London and you thought that you were going to earn your own living.”

  Because she remembered how she had said that she was going to do it, Serla blushed.

  “You were so kind to me,” she said quickly. “How could I have guessed that I should have a ball given for me like the marvellous one last night?”

  As she spoke she thought perhaps it would remind him of Lord Charlton and he would be angry. Instead of which the Marquis replied,

  “It was certainly one of Grandmama’s best efforts and London will be talking of nothing else today.”

  The satisfaction in his voice told Serla that he had seen the newspapers and knew that Charlotte’s engagement had been announced, but with less publicity than the ball.

  The countryside was beautiful once they were out of the City. It was a lovely day and the sunshine spread a golden haze over everything.

  Serla thought that no horses could go any faster and no man could drive in a more expert manner.

  “What are you thinking about?” the Marquis asked unexpectedly.

  “I was actually thinking how well you drive. Papa always said a man could either handle a horse or he could not. It was not something that you could learn.”

  “I think your father was right. I have loved horses ever since I can remember and I have always known that I could make them do what I wanted.”

  “Because you love them,” she said softly. “That is what I feel when I am riding a really fine horse like yours.”

  “Wait until you see the new horses I am going to show you at Darincourt. I bought them a few days ago, but did not have time to tell you about them. Now they have been delivered I want to ride them as quickly as possible so that they know they belong to me.”

  “That will be even more thrilling than dancing or visiting Vauxhall Gardens,” Serla sighed.

  “Are those the two things that you are going to remember about your visit?”
the Marquis asked her.

  “I shall never forget how kind you are to me and how wonderful your grandmother is.”

  “She has enjoyed every minute of having to dress you and produce you as a dazzling star to impress the Beau Monde,” the Marquis said. “And that reminds me, I think it will be a good idea if you call her ‘Grandmama’ as I do. After all that is what the world would expect you to call her if we were married.”

  “I would like to. I only wish I had a grandmother like her, but both of mine are dead.”

  The Marquis drove on and soon after one o’clock they stopped at a large Posting inn.

  A private room had been engaged and, after Serla had gone upstairs and washed her face and hands, she came down to find that the Dowager had just arrived.

  “Are you all right?” she asked her. “Are you quite comfortable?”

  “I have to admit to having slept most of the way,” she replied, “and now I am hungry and would also enjoy a glass of champagne.”

  “It is waiting for you,” the Marquis said and put a glass into her hand and one to Serla. “Now, Grandmama, this is the first opportunity we have had to tell you what a wonderful success last night was. The newspapers are all quite right in saying that it was the most outstanding party that has taken place since the last one at Carlton House.”

  “Do they say that, my dear boy, I do hope they are right. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves and everyone as they left said that Serla was the prettiest girl they had seen and you were the most fortunate man.”

  The Marquis smiled, but he did not respond.

  When the Dowager was ready, their luncheon was served and it was all so delicious that Serla knew without asking that they had brought it with them from London.

  The Marquis, however, did not wish to linger long, being anxious to arrive at Darincourt Hall.

  “You children go ahead,” the Dowager said as they finished their coffee. “I dislike travelling very fast and, if I am a little delayed, don’t worry about me.”

  “I want Serla to see my horses before dark,” the Marquis said as he kissed her goodbye.

  They set off in the phaeton at a fast pace and Serla guessed that they would reach Darincourt at teatime.