An Introduction to the Pink Collection. Barbara Cartland
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“Papa used to say that although we were poor, we should always appreciate the beautiful things in life.”
“What were they?” the Earl asked as if the way she had spoken made him curious.
Rena smiled. “The sun, the moon, the stars,” she replied. “And so many other things, too many to mention.”
“That’s just the sort of thing you would say,” he told her. “I am beginning to think you aren’t real, but a part of the magic cross you showed me in the woods. Also the sunshine, which, although you may not know it, is turning your hair to gold.”
“Don’t let Mr Wyngate hear you saying things like that,” she reproved. “I understand that it means nothing, but he won’t.”
John looked as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. Then he took a sharp breath.
“Why, that’s it! I’ll say that you’re my wife!”
“John, do be sensible.”
“Wouldn’t you like to be my wife?” he sounded hurt.
“If you don’t take care you’ll find yourself engaged to me, and then I’ll bring an action for breach of promise, and you’ll really be in a pickle.”
“Only if I tried to get out of it. I might insist on marrying you. What would you do then?”
“Don’t make me laugh when I’m beating eggs,” she begged. “It’s dangerous.”
“Yes, you just flipped some on my nose. Anyway, you couldn’t sue me for breach of promise.” His eyes were twinkling.
“Indeed, sir? And do you often ask girls if they would ‘like to be your wife’?”
“Every day,” he assured her. “But I always make sure there are no witnesses. Then there’s nothing they can do when I behave like a cad, and vanish.”
She was speechless.
He grinned at the sight of her indignant face.
“I learned that from one of my shipmates,” he said. “He had a considerable career of that kind. In fact I think he joined the Navy one jump ahead of an outraged father.”
“I think you’re quite disgraceful. And so was he.”
“Yes, he was. Of course it isn’t funny if it’s real, but I would never actually behave in such a way. I hope you know that.”
“What I know or don’t know is neither here nor there,” she said, concentrating on the eggs. Something in his tone as he spoke the last words had made the air sing about her ears.
“It isn’t me you have to impress,” she added.
“Well I wouldn’t like you to think badly of me, Rena. For any reason.”
She regarded him quizzically. “My Lord, since we’ve met you have set me to work in a beetle infested oven, struck me down and rolled me around on a dusty carpet. Why on earth would I think badly of you?”
He began to shake with laughter, which grew and grew until he put his head down on his arms on the table, and rocked with mirth. Rena stood there, regarding him with delight.
At last he raised his head and mopped his streaming eyes. Then he got to his feet and came round the table, took the bowl from her hand and engulfed her in an enormous bear hug, swinging her round and round the kitchen, while his laughter went on.
“John,” she protested, laughing too now, because she couldn’t help it. This delightful madman had overwhelmed her with his riotous love of life and her head was spinning, joyfully.
“Rena, you are wonderful,” he cried. “Wonderful, wonderful, WONDERFUL!”
“John – ”
“There isn’t another woman in the world who would put up with me as you do. Maybe I ought to marry you after all.”
“Stop your nonsense,” she said, trying to speak clearly through the thumping of her heart. “You need an heiress.”
“Curses! So I do.” He released her reluctantly. “What a bore!”
Rena turned away and got on with her work, hoping that he couldn’t see that she was flustered.
It meant nothing, she told herself. It was just his way.
And she wasn’t used to great-hearted, exuberant men who seized her vigorously in their arms.
“So, you be careful,” she said, for something to say. “Or I shall make myself difficult.”
“I’m not afraid of you. I’ll just set Mr Wyngate on you. My, that would be a battle of the titans. I think I’d back you against him. All right, all right, don’t look at me like that. I was only joking.”
She pointed a ladle at him. “That kind of joke can land you in complications,” she said, with an unconvincing attempt at severity, “and you have enough of those.”
“Well at least I can make a joke with you, without worrying that you’ll have hysterics.”
“Has it occurred to you that you may be imagining the whole thing? He may not want you at all.”
“In our previous acquaintance he kept asking me if I knew any aristocrats that I could introduce him to, because Matilda would grace a coronet. Then the minute he discovers my Earldom he descends on me. How does that strike you?”
“Sinister,” she agreed.
“Once he’s set his heart on something he never gives up. I suppose that’s how he became a millionaire. I feel almost afraid that before I know it I’ll find myself walking up the aisle with Matilda on my arm.”
“Then perhaps you will,” said Rena, almost brusquely. “Perhaps it’s your destiny to do what will bring prosperity to the village, no matter what the cost to yourself. Now, would you mind going away? I have a lot of work to do before this afternoon.”
This conversation was proving a strain on her.
*
For the visit Rena changed into her severest clothes, and put a cap on her head that hid some of her shining hair.
John was outraged.
“What did you do that for? You look like a servant.”
“A housekeeper is a servant.”
“Not you. Take this thing off your head.”
“Hey, let go.” He was pulling pins out. “Give that back at once.”
“I will not.”
“You will.” She stamped her foot. “Right now.”
He grinned at her, and the sun came out. “For a servant you’re very good at giving me orders.”
“John, will you try to be sensible?” She had already fallen into the habit of scolding him like a sister. “While we’re sharing the house alone, the plainer I look the better. And Mr Wyngate will notice.”
“Well, if he thinks you’re my – well, you know – he won’t want me to marry his daughter, will he?”
“Nonsense, of course he will. Where’s he going to find another coronet? And what about my reputation in the village? Have you thought of that?
“I didn’t even mean to be sleeping here. I was going to stay respectably in the vicarage before a crowd of strangers turned up, throwing me out, making fun of my mother’s clothes and trying to steal my chicken – ” her voice wobbled.
“Rena, Rena, I’m sorry.” His manner changed at once, becoming the gentle, kindly one that touched her heart. He took hold of her shoulders. “I’m a selfish beast. I forgot how much you’ve had to put up with. My poor, dear girl, are you crying?”