Authors: Barbara Cartland
She sighed as she explained:
“They had lived on the Estate all their lives, and their families had always served the Harlings.”
“We can only hope,” the Duke replied, “that some of them will be able to come back now.”
“It was kind of you to arrange for Mark to take the Waltons and Mrs. Johnson in a carriage to the village.”
“They could hardly walk.”
Knowing the drive was over a mile long, Alvina gave a little laugh.
“It would certainly have taken them a very long time, and that of course was another reason why it was impossible for them to leave us even if they had wanted to, because Papa thought he had sold all the horses.”
“But you managed to keep two,” the Duke stated.
“I kept the one I had ridden for years,” Alvina replied, “and poor old Rufus, whom no-one would buy. He must be over seventeen years old.”
The Duke made no comment because, as he had said so often, what had happened seemed so incredible that now he was just prepared to listen.
He wanted, however, to find out and see for himself exactly what had happened.
When they visited the farms he could understand that no-one with even a shred of decency in them would have turned away the Hendersons because they could not pay their rent.
There had been five generations of Hendersons farming that particular farm, and on other farms it was much the same story.
He was really appalled at the condition that the farms were in. The roofs had not been repaired for years, and many of the outbuildings had collapsed altogether.
“Things were good in the war, Your Grace,” one farmer told him, “but soon as it were over, no-one wanted the farmers any longer, and the big harvest of 1815 flooded the market.”
The Duke was quick to understand that few farmers had saved money, and, being able to visualise anything but rising prices, they had invested everything they had in their land.
The poor soils they had ploughed in response to the war-time demand became economically unworkable when wheat prices fell disastrously.
By the time he and Alvina had ridden over only half of the Estate and listened to the despair the farmers expressed, he could sympathise with, although he certainly did not condone it, the fear which had made the last Duke believe he was ruined.
By the mercy of Providence he could repair much of the damage, but he could not help remembering that he could not replace the men who had been killed in battle and who would never return.
He had, however, told his own tenant-farmers that he would lend them money to make improvements without interest for three years, and he also promised he would find out when he returned to London what were the best markets available for the crops they grew.
Their gratitude was pathetic, and as the Duke and Alvina rode away from the fourth farm they had visited, he said to her:
“I hope that I am not being too optimistic and that there will be purchasers for the wheat, oats, barley, and all the other crops.”
“What is more important than anything else,” Alvina replied, “is that there should be work for the younger men.”
The Duke knew this was true.
As he drove back to London, he saw in the villages through which he passed men who looked unmistakably as if they should be wearing a uniform.
They were sitting about on the Village Green or lounging outside the Inn, obviously with time on their hands because they were unemployed.
He thought to his satisfaction that at least he had a great number of vacancies now at the Castle.
The Head-Gardener was too old and too infirm to do anything active, but Alvina was certain that he would be able to direct any men they employed and would be aware of what would grow best in the Kitchen Garden.
He would also know where the strawberry-beds, the peas, the beans, and the carrots had been planted in the past.
The Duke had thought that the first thing he should do was to find and engage an Estate Manager.
But because Alvina was so involved in this herself, and he knew it would make her happy to re-employ those who had been dismissed, he had thought that could wait until she found it too much for her.
At the same time, the Estate was a very extensive one.
The next day they had visited other farms, inspected an Orphanage which had been closed for three years, and called at the Schools, which were empty and neglected.
There were also several Churches which were either on the verge of falling down or had no incumbent because the reigning Duke was responsible for his stipend.
When they returned to the Castle late in the afternoon, having had luncheon at a village Inn consisting of fresh bread and cheese washed down with home-brewed cider, the Duke actually felt quite tired.
Alvina, however, despite her frail appearance, seemed to be as fresh and as buoyant as she had been in the morning.
He knew she was stimulated and excited by the knowledge that the burden of misery and despair which had rested on her shoulders for so long had now been lifted.
It was after dinner, when it was getting late and they had almost completed their plans for the next few months at any rate, that the Duke had said:
“Now, Alvina, I think we will talk about you. You have set my feet on the right path, so I must do the same for
you.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I think I am right in thinking that you are nineteen,” the Duke said, “and you should have made your debut in London last year, but of course you were in mourning. Now, with Berkeley Square at your disposal, you must meet the
Beau Monde
and, of course, the Prince Regent.”
He expected Alvina to be excited at the idea, as he thought any young woman would have been, but to his surprise she looked away from him to say:
“I would much rather stay here. I am too ... old to be a ... debutante.”
“That is untrue,” he said. “And although I am very grateful for your help, I cannot allow you to waste your youth and your beauty tending old pensioners and opening Schools for obstreperous children.”
Alvina had risen from the chair in which she had been sitting and walked across the Morning-Room to pull aside the curtains over the window.
Outside, it was night. The sky was bright with stars and there was a moon rising over the tops of the oak trees in the Park.
She stood looking out in silence.
The Duke, watching her, thought how slim and exquisite she
l
ooked in a white muslin gown which he knew had been made for her by Miss Richardson.
The muslin, which had been intended for curtains, revealed the soft curves of her breasts, but he knew she was in fact too thin, which doubtless was caused by not having enough to eat.
He had learnt that their staple fare had been rabbits which Alvina had paid boys from the village to snare in the Park, and eggs which came from a few old chickens that were cooped up outside the kitchen-yard.
The vegetables, the Duke learnt, had grown untended in the Kitchen Garden but had naturally become more and more sparse as the years went on, so that Alvina had to search for them amongst the weeds.
Because these were such an important part of their diet, she had planted potatoes to supplement what was growing more or less wild.
The Duke wondered why she was not more enthusiastic about the idea of going to London. Then suddenly she turned from the window to say:
“No! It would be a mistake, and if you do not ... want me here, perhaps you would let me ... live in one of the ... cottages. I would be quite happy if Miss Richardson would ... stay with me.”
The Duke stared at her and found it hard to believe what she was saying, before he replied:
“My dear child, Miss Richardson is already an old woman, while you are young, very young, and your whole life is in front of you. Of course you must take your proper place in Society as you would have done had your mother been alive.”
“Are you saying in a tactful manner that you ... wish to be ... rid of me?” Alvina asked. “Perhaps you are ... thinking of getting ... married.”
There was just a little pause before the Duke said firmly:
“I have no intention of getting married, not at any rate for a long time.”
He knew as he spoke that it was impossible to imagine Isobel caring for the people on the Estate as Alvina had done, nor would she wish, he knew, to spend any length of time at the Castle.
She would want to be at Berkeley Square, entertaining for the sophisticated, witty, pleasure-loving Socialites who were an intrinsic part of her life wherever she might be.
“If you do not ... mind my being here,” Alvina said, “please, can I stay ... with you? I should feel ... afraid anywhere else. You must be aware how ... ignorant I am of the ... Social World.”
“It consists of people,” the Duke replied with a smile, “people like you and me, Alvina, and they are not really a race apart, whatever you may have heard about them.”
As he spoke, he thought that was not quite true. No-one could be more different from the people in the cottages and the villages, who he had realised today almost worshipped Alvina, then the gay, irresponsible
Beau Monde,
who were selfish, extravagant, and concerned only with their incessant search for amusement.
They would merely find Alvina a badly dressed country girl.
Because the Duke had spent what free time he had with the most exquisitely gowned Beauties in every Capital he had visited, he was well aware how important clothes were to women.
He said now to Alvina:
“You will have to go to London for one thing, if nothing else—to buy yourself new clothes.”
He spoke without thinking that it might sound an insult, and seeing a flush appear on Alvina’s face he added:
“Perhaps I should have told you before that you are very lovely, but even the most beautiful picture needs the right frame to show it off.”
“I have a feeling,” Alvina said slowly, “that you are flattering me to get your own way. I am not used to compliments and so I am suspicious of them. Although I would love some new clothes, I am afraid if I move away from here you will never let me come back.”
She spoke lightly, the Duke was aware, but there was undoubtedly a quiver of fear beneath the surface.
“I promise you,” he said quickly, “that the Castle is your home for as long as you wish to stay here.”
“If you ... marry ... what then?”
“I have no intention of marrying,” the Duke said almost irritably. “At least not for a very long time.”
“But you will have to, otherwise Cousin Jason will know he has a chance of taking your place.”
“I will deal with Jason myself when I reach London,” the Duke said, “and there is no need for you to worry about him any longer.”
He spoke with a hint of laughter in his voice, then in a different tone he said:
“For God’s sake, stop thinking of everyone but yourself. You have done that for far too long. I can assure
you it is quite unnatural for a pretty and very attractive young woman.”
He saw the colour come into her cheeks from his compliment, and she turned away to say almost obstinately:
“I do not ... wish to go to ... London.”
“That is what you are going to do,” the Duke said. “I suppose you realise that now that your father is dead, I am not only head of the family but also your Guardian, and you have to obey me.”
She turned to look at him, and now there was a hint of mischief in her eyes as she said:
“And if I do ... not?”
“Then I shall think of some horrendous punishment which will bring you to heel.”
“And what will that be?”
“I cannot think for the moment,” the Duke replied, “but perhaps I shall cancel the horses I intended to buy at Tattersall’s for you to ride, or perhaps, worse, I will forget my plans for the Ball I want to give here in the Castle to introduce not only you to the County and to my friends from London but also myself.”
“A Ball?” Alvina repeated almost stupidly.
“A Ball,” the Duke said firmly. “And one thing is very important, Alvina, and that is that you should learn to dance gracefully the new waltz which was introduced to London by the Princess de Lieven.”
Alvina came from the window to sit down opposite him on the sofa.
“Did you ... really say a ... Ball?” she asked. “I think I am ... dreaming.”
“I have every intention of celebrating my home-coming in a spectacular manner.”
Actually he had not thought of it until that moment, but he knew that was much the best way to get Alvina involved in the world that he knew was waiting for her outside the Castle after the years of what was virtually imprisonment.
“I would never have thought,” she said, “though
Mama talked of it when I was very young, that there would ever be a ... Ball in the Castle and that I could ... dance at it.”
“It is something I intend to give,” the Duke said.
“But the Ball-Room has not been ... used for ... years. The walls all want ... washing down, the floor ... polished, and I am certain the mice have eaten holes in the ... chairs and the ... curtains.”
As I intend to give the Ball in a month or six weeks’ time,” the Duke said, “you will have to get busy.”