The Earl Rings a Belle
Barbara Cartland Ebooks Ltd
This edition © 2016
Copyright Cartland Promotions 1953
eBook conversion by M-Y Books
Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most famous romantic novelists. With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.
Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller. Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. In addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA. In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.
Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of Romance’, Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery. Becoming one of Britain’s most popular media personalities and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara spoke on radio and television about social and political issues, as well as making many public appearances.
In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work for humanitarian and charitable causes.
Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime. Best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and traditional values. But above all, it was Barbara Cartland’s overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her truly unique.
The Barbara Cartland Eternal Collection is the unique opportunity to collect as ebooks all five hundred of the timeless beautiful romantic novels written by the world’s most celebrated and enduring romantic author.
Named the Eternal Collection because Barbara’s inspiring stories of pure love, just the same as love itself, the books will be published on the internet at the rate of four titles per month until all five hundred are available.
The Eternal Collection, classic pure romance available worldwide for all time .
In Medieval days tumblers and musicians amused the Nobles in their strongholds.
Minstrels going from place to place carried news of victories or defeats between the Clans.
In London there were the famous pleasure gardens. At one time there were two hundred around Greater London alone and these, like Vauxhall Gardens, became the favourite pick-up for the mashers, swells and blades of the time.
By 1820 there were innumerable taverns like The Coal Hole and Cider Cellars where there were singers, sketches, conjuring acts and a striptease entitled ‘plastic poses’.
By 1860 the most important of these was Evans’s Supper Rooms in Covent Garden.
As a rule the bills were changed every week and from the Supper Rooms there emerged the Music Halls where there were seats and not tables for eating and drinking.
Tights were first introduced in America in 1850 and caused an outcry of horror. People protested about them and they were condemned as immodest and immoral beyond words.
The public outcry was loud and prolonged. In fact tights became synonymous with sin.
When eventually they came to London, they were used in the ‘poses plastiques’, which had come from the Continent, but the women who portrayed in it were, until they adopted tights, not allowed to move.
They were, needless to say, not seen or even talked of by any woman who considered herself a lady.
Donela spent the afternoon with her mother.
She thought that Sir Marcus looked at her questioningly at teatime.
However, nothing further was said about Lord Waltingham.
But she was acutely conscious that the hours were passing by rapidly.
Tomorrow he would arrive to propose to her, absolutely certain that she would accept.
‘I have no – choice,’ she thought to herself bitterly.
Then the idea of running away was back in her mind.
When she went up to dress for dinner, she looked at her clothes and wondered what she should take with her.
It was not going to be easy.
She also had to decide for how long she would stay away.
The answer was as long as it took her stepfather to accept her decision that she would not marry Lord Waltingham under any circumstances.
She did not imagine that Lord Waltingham would take her refusal easily.
He was obviously very puffed up with his own importance and would believe that any woman he asked to be his wife would jump at the opportunity.
Even to think of him made Donela shiver.
She knew, although it seemed an hysterical thing to say, that she would rather die than be married to him.
Then the common sense that she had inherited from her father told her that there was no need for such extreme dramatics.
She would merely go away and disappear for a short while.
When she returned, Sir Marcus would have taken her protestations seriously.
She knew that she could not stay away forever.
The simple reason for that was, it would be very difficult for her to earn her own living.
She knew that if she wished to be a Governess or a companion she would have to produce a reference.
If she faked one, she might be caught out and perhaps would be arrested and charged with forgery.
All sorts of different ideas came into her mind to frighten her.
Yet she was still determined that whatever happened she would not meet Lord Waltingham tomorrow.
Once again she went to the piano after dinner.
She did not play the light-hearted songs that she had chosen the night before.
Instead the drawing room was filled with the sound of soft classical music by Chopin and Mozart.
Even so she had the idea that Sir Marcus looked at her resentfully and she was sure that he thought the music was interrupting his conversation.
At ten o’clock Donela said ‘goodnight’ and went upstairs.
She had told the maid who looked after her not to wait up.
She managed to unbutton her own evening gown and, as she hung it up, she saw a carpet bag at the bottom of the wardrobe.
It was one she had bought in Florence.
There had been no room in her trunk for all her books and at the last moment she had bought the bag and filled it with them.
It was large and roomy, but at the same time it was light to carry.
Almost as if her father was guiding her she knew that this was her ‘luggage’.
She chose which gown she would wear. Although it was pretty, it was not so elaborate as to cause comment.
It had a short velvet jacket to wear over it and was a deep blue.
There was a smart little hat to match, which was a background for her beautiful hair.
That was one problem settled.
Now she had to think about what she must pack.
Because she was going to be away in the summer, she put two light muslin gowns in the bag and added another of white gauze that she could wear in the evening.
They took up relatively little space in the carpet bag.
Even when she had slipped in two soft nightgowns and a muslin negligée, there was room for a pair of slippers as well as her hairbrush, comb and a box of hairpins.
A number of extras like handkerchiefs, a sponge and a toothbrush went on top.
She was sure that during the night she would think of other things that were absolutely necessary.
Now the problem was money.
She had little left over from the journey home and her stepfather had sent her a generous cheque so that she could tip the servants at school and the porters on the railway.
‘I need much more,’ she told herself.
Then she remembered that her mother always had money in her handbag.
‘I shall ask her for some early in the morning,’ Donela decided.
As she undressed and climbed into bed, she was thinking that her stepfather would be furious when he found out that she had gone.
At the same time she was sure that her father would think that she was doing the right thing.
“You must always follow your star,” he had once told her.
She had looked at him enquiringly and he explained,
“When I am on the bridge at sea, I look up at the sky and I feel that there is one star there guiding me which I can rely on.”
“And you think your star tells you what to do, Papa?” Donela asked.
“I am sure the ideas that come into my mind are put there by someone cleverer than I am,” the Captain replied.
It was something that Donela had always remembered.
When she looked up at the sky, she would wonder which, amongst the thousands of stars twinkling overhead, was hers.
‘I will follow my star, Papa,’ she breathed now in her heart, ‘but you – must help – me too.’
*
Donela awoke early before she was called.
She dressed herself carefully in her pretty gown, but did not put on the jacket or the hat.
She waited until she heard Sir Marcus leave her mother’s room and walk to his own.
He was an early riser.
She knew that he would go to the stables either to ride or to inspect the horses before breakfast.
She waited just in case he went back to see her mother before he went downstairs.
Then, when she knew that he had gone, she went along the passage to her mother’s room.
Lady Grayson was still in bed.
As her daughter came in, she smiled with delight at seeing her.
“I am lazy, darling,” she said, “and I have a slight headache, so I thought that I would rest until luncheontime.”
“That is very sensible of you, Mama,” Donela said, kissing her, “but the reason I have come is to ask you for some money.”
“Some money?” Lady Grayson questioned.
“I want to go into the village to see if I can find myself a new riding whip. If I cannot buy one there, I may have to go into St. Albans.”
She paused and then before her mother could speak she said,
“I don’t want to ask Step-Papa for anything more than he has – given me already.”
“No, of course not,” her mother agreed. “You will find plenty of money in my handbag. Take what you want.”
Donela went to the chest of drawers where she knew that her mother’s handbag was kept.
She opened it and found that there was even more money than she had expected.
She did not say anything, but took nearly all of it.
“Thank you, Mama,” she said as she slipped it into her pocket.
She went back to the bedside and kissed her mother affectionately.
“You must take good care of yourself, Mama,” she said, “and not do too much.”
“I will try not to,” Lady Grayson replied, “but you know that your stepfather does not like doing anything without me and we have had quite a number of long drives recently, which I do find exhausting.”
Donela kissed her again.
“I love you, Mama!” she sighed.
“And I love you, my darling,” her mother replied.
She seemed about to say something else and then changed her mind as if she thought that it would be a mistake.
Because she had no wish to discuss Lord Waltingham in any way, Donela hurried away.
Only when she reached her own room did she wipe the tears from her eyes.
It was very hard to leave her mother after she had been so long away from her.
‘Mama will be upset,’ she told herself.
Then she thought if nothing else, it might make Sir Marcus think again.
She had already written the letter that she was leaving behind.
It was in her handbag where she now placed the money she had taken from her mother’s.
Putting on her hat and the little velvet jacket, she picked up the carpet bag.
She went along the corridor and down the secondary staircase, which was the nearest to the stables.
She was praying as she went that Sir Marcus would have gone riding.
She did not want him to ask questions about where she was going.
Her prayers were answered.
As she emerged from the path that led from the house to the stable yard, she saw him in the far distance.
He was riding towards the flatland where he could gallop.
She ordered the pony trap, which was what her mother always used for short journeys.
The pony that drew it was actually a small horse, young and quite fast.
He was led from his stall and put between the shafts.
Donela said that she would like to take Ben with her. He was one of the younger grooms who had been there before she went abroad.
He was, she was convinced, one of the most stupid.
He was good with horses, but he found it very difficult to talk to people.
They therefore drove to the village in silence.
Donela had no intention of stopping at the few shops that provided everything.
She went on until she had reached the main road that ran through the Hertfordshire countryside.
At the first crossroads she drew the pony and trap to a standstill and said to Ben,
“I am being collected here by some friends. There is no need for you to wait. Go back to the house and, when you get there, hand in this note and say it is to be taken up to her Ladyship.”
Ben showed no surprise at this strange order.
He took the note and thrust it into the pocket of his coat.
Donela handed him the reins and he turned the horse round.
He did not say goodbye, but merely touched his forelock respectfully.
Donela raised her hand and watched the pony and trap until it was out of sight.
Then she looked up and down the road waiting for a stagecoach and she was certain that one would come from one direction or the other.
She had no particular desire to go either way, preferring to leave the decision to Fate.
If the coach was heading for London, then that was the way she would travel.
If it was approaching from the other direction, then she would believe that was the way chosen by her star.
The only thing that worried her was that perhaps the stagecoach had already passed this particular point.
If she had to wait for a long time, her stepfather might come in search of her.
She had just begun to pray that this would not happen.
Then she saw in the distance a cloud of dust coming from the direction of London.
It was only a few seconds later that she saw it was a stagecoach approaching. She had been afraid it might be some other traveller.
It came nearer and nearer.
It was a new well-painted vehicle drawn by four horses.
Because it was a fine day and the sun was shining, there were quite a number of men travelling on the roof.
This meant, Donela told herself hopefully, that there would be plenty of room inside.
She waved as the coach drew nearer and the driver drew his horses up level with her.
The guard, carrying his long brass horn, jumped down to open the door of the carriage.
“You’ve no luggage, ma’am?” he asked politely.
“This is all I have,” Donela answered, holding up her carpet bag.
He took it from her and pushed it into the rack that was above the back seat.
Then he stood to one side to allow Donela to enter the coach.
She saw with relief that it was not overcrowded.
There was an old woman who looked like a farmer’s wife sitting in one corner. She had a basket beside her in which there were eggs and two plucked chickens.
In the other corner facing her there were two extremely pretty, if flashily dressed, young girls and beside them was a man who also seemed to be too smartly dressed for the country.
When he realised that, as the seat was full, Donela would have to sit with her back to the horses, he said,
“Allow me, ma’am, to give you my seat where I know you’ll be more comfortable.”
“That is very kind of you,” Donela exclaimed.
The man moved over and as he did so the guard asked,
“Now then, ma’am, where might you be a-goin’?”
Donela had almost forgotten that she would have to pay her fare.
“I am not certain,” she answered. “What is your final destination?”
“Last stop afore Oxford be Little Fording,” the guard replied.
Donela hesitated.
She thought it might be rather frightening to arrive in Oxford late in the day.
She would not know where to go or where she should stay.