Lord of the Far Island by Victoria Holt (romance book recommendations TXT) 📗

"Not exactly. It's to be in June. The actual day is not decided."

"I shall be there. I'm determined to be at your wedding."

"Lady Emily is giving my cousin a list."

Philip was looking across at me. "Ellen," he said, "we'd better go and speak to old Sir Bevis over there."

My companion bowed and turned away.

"Old Bevis is getting peevish," said Philip. "He always does if we don't make a fuss of him. Who was that, by the way, the tall fellow you were talking to?"

"I don't know. He said he was a connection of yours."

Philip shrugged his shoulders. "Must be one of my father's or Rollo's business friends. He looked it, I must say."

"Did you think so? I thought he looked the outdoor type."

"Probably been pulling financial wires in the Middle East. They do, you know. What I meant was there was that look of power about him. They all have it. I don't know how I shall get on because in me it's conspicuous by its absence."

"Perhaps they weren't born with it and it's something you develop," I comforted. "It comes with experience."

"Don't you believe it. These people were born wizards. Still, I've done better than they have in one way. I've got you."

"Oh, Philip, you say the nicest things. You make me feel more precious than a fortune, and that love is more important than the Stock Market."

"For a moderately intelligent young woman you are surprisingly foolish at times if you needed contact with the financial jugglers of the Carrington circle to bring that to your notice."

We talked to old Sir Bevis, who congratulated Philip on our coming marriage, but I could see that I was the one he was really congratulating. Like a lot of people, he just could not understand why the Carringtons were accepting a girl without money. The logical explanation seemed to be that they were so rich that another fortune wouldn't make much difference.

When we had left Sir Bevis I noticed the man Hawley, whom I had seen in the Park and later in the Carrington stables.

Philip noticed my interest in him and laughed.

"Oh, your man of the Park. Old Hawley. He's been pressed into service in the house. He seems to have a talent for most things. He's valeting now."

"For whom?" I asked.

"For us all really. My father's valet left recently and it seems Hawley knew the job. He valets for us all, as we have always shared. My father and Rollo are away so much that there is not much for a valet to do."

"I suppose you'll go away a great deal when you're older, and I shall see the world with you."

"That's how it will be," he answered; and I thought then how lucky I was. It was this sudden turnabout provided by the Carringtons and banishing the specter of poverty forever which had set my mind nagging over the suspicion that it was all too good to be true. It was all very well for people to say that the love of money was the root of all evil, but I had to admit that it would certainly be good to have enough so that I need not worry about the future any more.

During the rest of the evening I looked for the tall man who had spoken to me but I couldn't see him. I was sure that if he had been present it would not have been difficult to spot him, for he was not the sort who could be lost in a crowd. I wished I had had the presence of mind to ask his name.

"It seems," said Esmeralda, "that one of the Carrington servants is courting Bessie."

"Really?" I replied. "Well, I suppose she's quite attractive."

"There's Rose and her coachman and now Bessie and Hawley."

"Did you say Hawley?"

"Yes, I'm sure that was the name. There seem to be several bonds between us and the Carringtons."

"Isn't that what your mother always wanted?" I asked, and I was thinking: Hawley! The man in the Park, the valet who looks after them all. Philip might laugh at me because of my interest in him, but ever since I had fancied he had watched us, I had been aware of him.

The time was passing and we were halfway through May. The horse chestnuts in the Park were proudly displaying their candles, ready to burst into beautiful flower, and I should have been joyous, but I would often wake in the mornings and it was as though I were emerging from an uneasy world of dreams which left nothing coherent behind but a vague sense of uneasiness.

The Carrington offer for the house in Finlay Square had been accepted and the contracts were in the process of being drawn up. We still had a key apiece, Philip and I. I didn't want to give mine up because I still had the urge to go there, and I did so now and then, trying to reconcile myself to the place. I would stand in the rooms and try to discover what it was I disliked about it.

Once when I was coming out I met Bessie. It was her half day off and she must have been walking near the square. She knew I went there because she had been talking with me when I took the key out of the drawer.

She looked at me shyly. "This is going to be your new home, isn't it, Miss Ellen?"

"Yes," I said.

"It's a beautiful house. I hope Hawley and me will be together one day. It's what he's said shall be."

"I daresay it will," I said brightly. "And Rose is going to marry the coachman. You'll all be together."

"You come here often, don't you, Miss Ellen? I would. To plan how things will be. I wouldn't be able to tear myself away."

Bessie went back to the house and I followed more leisurely.

Two days later I visited the house again. As I let myself in I was telling myself: It will look so