Love and The Marquis. Barbara Cartland
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one day to the next what would happen and often, when the lessons at school seemed extremely dull, she had slipped away back into the past.
When the class was droning on over French irregular verbs, she could see in front of her eyes the beauty of Versailles, the clouds over Mount Vesuvius, the Coliseum or the crowds at St. Peter’s when she was learning Italian.
When the teacher pointed to Greece on the map, she saw the Acropolis and the ruins of Delphi.
‘I am so lucky to have seen the real thing,’ she told herself.
She knew that the other pupils in the class could not understand the beauty of such places that had become a part of her and something she could never lose.
The butler announced luncheon and while she and her father ate they talked of the places they had visited in the past and he told her about the Palazzo he had bought in Venice, which was a very old one.
As she had never visited Venice and could not visualise what he was trying to tell her, she suggested,
“Please send me a painting of it, Papa, so that I shall be able to feel that I am near you.”
“I will do that,” the Earl promised, “but even if we do not see each other, my dearest, we can still keep in touch by letter.”
“And in our thoughts,” Imeldra added. “I have often believed at night when I have been at school that I was sending my thoughts winging towards you and wherever you were you would receive them.”
“I am sure I did,” the Earl replied, “and I am telling you the truth when I say that I was often conscious of your presence and my thoughts were continually with you.”
“I think I know that, Papa, so you see that we can never really lose each other.”
“No, of course not,” the Earl said, but his eyes were sad.
As they walked back to the salon, Imeldra asked,
“When are you leaving?”
“I was intending to do so this afternoon,” he said, “but I have changed my plans. It will not matter if I reach London tomorrow morning instead of tonight.”
“Then I can dine with you?” Imeldra asked in a rapt little voice.
“Of course,” the Earl agreed. “And we must also, my darling, make plans about where you are to go until your aunt is prepared to receive you.”
Imeldra looked at him and he said,
“I happen to know from reading the Court page of The Times that she is in Scotland at the moment staying with the Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch.”
“Good!” Imeldra exclaimed. “That means I cannot go to her until she comes South.”
“Exactly,” the Earl said dryly. “Therefore, as you cannot return to school, you must go to your grandmother’s.”
“Oh, no, Papa!”
She was not at all fond of her grandmother who was old and at times very disagreeable.
She disapproved of the deep affection Imeldra had for her father and had always resented that her granddaughter had not been sent to live with her as soon as her mother died.
There was no doubt, however, Imeldra knew, that her grandmother would welcome her as a guest.
At the same time she would not lose the opportunity of finding fault with the way she had been brought up and Imeldra felt that to have to listen to endless diatribes against her beloved father would be unbearable.
“Please, Papa,” she pleaded, “don’t send me to Grandmama’s.”
“Where else can you go, dearest, at a moment’s notice?” the Earl asked. “You can drive there in the carriage in three to four hours.”
Imeldra knew that this was true.
“I will send a letter to my mother,” he said, “explaining, for she will undoubtedly learn sooner or later the reason why I am leaving for France and shutting up the house.”
Imeldra gave a little murmur of distress, but she did not speak and the Earl went on,
“Dutton will be in charge of everything. You can tell him to do anything you want.”
Imeldra looked around the salon.
She had not spent much time since her mother died at Kingsclere, which was the family seat. Before that it had been their permanent home.
It was after his wife’s death that the Earl felt that the place was haunted by the woman he had loved so deeply and he could not bear to be there without her.
It was then that with his small daughter he had set off on their travels to foreign lands.
Once or twice a year they came home and the Earl would run his horses at Ascot and at Newmarket.
He would be in the Jockey Club or the Royal Enclosure with some beautiful woman who had taken his fancy at that particular moment, while Imeldra, properly escorted, was allowed to roam amongst the crowds.
The gypsies would tell her her fortune and, as she was so pretty and well dressed, they were always very glamorous forecasts.
She would watch the many shysters and the bookies and those who made their living by entertaining the crowds and extracting pennies from their pockets by doing so.
It had all been the most immense fun and the summers at Kingsclere were as vivid and as beautiful in her mind as anything she saw abroad.
But inevitably the end of the summer meant the end of the Earl’s latest affaire de coeur.
As soon as he had finished shooting the first partridges, he would be off to the sun from the Mediterranean to North Africa and once unforgettably down the Red Sea to India.
It was a strange and varied life for any child, but Imeldra grew to girlhood with a wider knowledge than any of her contemporaries had, not only of countries and places but of people with strange religions and conflicting political ideals.
Because her father was so intelligent, he spent his time not only with beautiful women but with the Statesmen of the countries they visited, the Prime Ministers, the Chancellors and the Foreign Secretaries.
And whenever he entertained, Imeldra would listen to what they were saying and try to understand so that she could discuss the most interesting points with him afterwards.
As they talked together after dinner that evening, she had a feeling that no man she would meet in Society would ever be able to take his place, since even if he loved her, their brains would not match each other’s.
What was more, she would never be able to learn from him as she had learnt from her father.
Inexorably the evening came to an end and, when Imeldra looked reluctantly at the clock over the mantelpiece, the Earl said,
“I am going to say ‘goodbye’ to you now, my precious daughter. You know that I cannot bear emotional farewells, so I am asking you, my darling, not to come downstairs until I have left tomorrow morning, which will be very early.”
With an almost superhuman effort Imeldra bit back the words of protest that came to her lips.
She knew that her father was right in that they had nothing more to say to each other but, when she saw him drive away, she would want to cry because he would be going out of her life for a very long time.
She was aware that he was really saying to her that it would be a mistake for them to meet again until she was married.
The idea of losing him as well as having to marry somebody because he considered it the ‘right thing to do’ was terrifying.
However there was no point in saying so and it would only make him unhappy.
She could already feel the misery she would know once he had gone