The Haunted Heart E-Book

Barbara Cartland

• Herausgeber: Barbara Cartland Ebooks Ltd
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: The Eternal Collection
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 228

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

After her father dies in a riding accident, Gina Borne's mother loses the will to live and soon follows her husband to the grave. Not only is Gina grief-stricken – aged just 18, she faces a miserable, lonely life in the gloomy shadow of her pious uncle, who's known as "The Preaching Peer". Seeking escape, she successfully applies for a job as "companion" to the Earl of Ingleton's sickly seventeen-year-old ward, Lady Alice Hanbury. It seems as though the spectre of Death is still stalking her when she finds herself at the ancient Ingle Priory, haunted by the spirits of a white lady, tortured prisoners and a crying child. Even her new charge, Lady Alice, seems to be at death's door – and Gina realises that an evil housekeeper is slowly draining Alice of life with daily doses of poison. It seems too far-fetched to be true – surely the Earl, kindly as he is, will never believe her… Plagued by ghosts in the night, Gina strives to save her new friend from this slow, cold death as she clings to the hope that blossoming friendship and the light of love will chase all this darkness away.

Leseprobe

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Secret passages and Priests’ Holes are to be found in most of the houses built in Tudor times.

Queen Mary, who was a confirmed Roman Catholic, persecuted the Protestants and Queen Elizabeth, when she came to the Throne, persecuted the Jesuits, who went in terror of their lives.

Catholic families hid the Priests in secret passages in their houses until they could escape to the Continent and Services were held in the Priests’ Holes under fear of being caught and hanged.

Secret hiding places were used when the Royalists were being hunted by Cromwellian troops and it is interesting to find that in so many great houses their existence is known only to the Head of the Family and his eldest son.

Ghosts, of course, are to be found in most old houses and, when I was a girl, I lived for two years in a notorious ‘ghost house’ in Somerset. It was very frightening to feel that there was always somebody going up the stairs ahead of one and somebody coming up behind you.

After that I always had my own houses blessed and it was only after I had had my home at Camfield Place blessed that I learned that Beatrix Potter, when she stayed here as a girl, was often frightened by the ghosts in the passages and in the drawing room.

Today I have only one ghost, my cocker spaniel, who had to be put to sleep when he was very young because he had cancer and this was after the blessing and he has remained with us ever since.

Many people have seen him, but he does not frighten anybody as he has only remained with us because he was happy and loved us.

He is mentioned in the Stately Ghosts of England as, when I was visited by its author, I was told that she was fed up with people who had the ghost of someone walking about with their head tucked underneath their arm and it was a joy to have something different!

Therefore my cocker spaniel holds a very important place not only in our lives but also in those who believe, as I do, that there is no such thing as death.

Chapter One ~ 1840

“Now you quite understand, Gina? You come to The Towers just as soon as you have everything packed.”

“Yes – Uncle Edmund.”

“You will take the stagecoach to Bedonbury and my carriage will meet you at the turning off the high road.”

“Yes, Uncle Edmund.”

“You will, of course,” Lord Calborne went on, “have to be escorted by your Nanny and after that she can retire. There is no room for her at The Towers.”

Gina drew in her breath.

Then with an effort she asked him,

“Would it not be possible, Uncle Edmund, for – Nanny to stay with me? She has been with Mama and Papa since before I was born.”

“Then it is high time she retired,” Lord Calborne replied, “and at eighteen you are far too old to require a Nanny to look after you.”

He cleared his throat before he added,

“In fact I have already planned what you will do when you come to live with your aunt and me.”

There was a pause in which Gina was obviously expected to reply and she enquired,

“What – is that – Uncle Edmund?”

“You will find there are a great many tasks in the houses and, when those are finished, you can help me with my work for the Missionaries in the Far East, as I have not yet engaged a secretary although I hope to find one when I come to London.”

Gina made a little murmur, but she did not speak and her uncle went on,

“Every year I can see more results from my labours, which is very gratifying and it will be good for your mind and your soul to help to bring the light of the Gospel to those who live in darkness.”

He spoke with a note of exaltation in his voice that made his niece aware why he was known as the ‘Preaching Peer’.

Then, as he collected some of his papers together, he said,

“Of course before you do leave London you will not forget to buy yourself some black gowns? I was shocked, deeply shocked, when I arrived to see you not in deep mourning.”

“The gown I wore yesterday at – Mama’s funeral,” Gina explained, “was rather thick for the weather we are having now – and there has been no time to find – anything else and – ”

She stopped as she was just about to say,

‘Neither Papa nor Mama believed in wearing mourning.’

Then she knew that her uncle would not understand.

“I should have thought,” he said in a criticising tone, “the sorrow that you feel on losing your mother would have made it impossible for you to wear anything but the deepest black.”

He waited, as if he expected Gina to apologise, then as she said nothing, he carried on,

“With your aunt and me, you will show your respect for those who have passed over by wearing mourning for at least twelve months. After that I daresay you can go into the colours of half-mourning such as grey and mauve.”

“I-I understand, Uncle Edmund.”

Lord Calborne looked at his watch.

“I must go,” he said. “I have a meeting with the Bishop of London and so I must not be late for him.”

“No – of course not – Uncle Edmund.”

Lord Calborne went towards the door and his niece ran quickly to open it for him.

“Your aunt and I will expect you by Thursday or perhaps Friday at the latest. Be certain when you have verified from the coach station to let me know the time of your arrival. I do not like my horses to be kept waiting.”

“No – of course not – Uncle Edmund.”

Nanny, who was waiting in the hall, opened the front door.

Lord Calborne looked at her, realised who she was and then appeared to be about to say something.

Then he changed his mind and, stepping out of the house, crossed the pavement to climb into the somewhat old-fashioned carriage that was waiting for him.

It was drawn by two well-bred and well-fed horses and, as they next started off down the street, Gina moved back into the hall.

Only as Nanny closed the front door did she fling herself against her to say,

“Oh – Nanny – I cannot – bear it! I cannot go to – The Towers – I cannot – I cannot!”

As she spoke, the tears that she had controlled so proudly during her mother’s funeral the day before flowed down her cheeks.

Nanny put her arm round her.

“Now don’t give way, dearie,” she said. “There’s nothin’ you can do.”

“H-how – can I bear it?” Gina asked. “And they won’t let you – stay with me.”

Her words were almost incoherent, but she felt Nanny stiffen.

“I-I cannot – lose you – I cannot!” Gina sobbed. “And anyway – living at The Towers – will be like – being in Hell!”

“Now don’t you say such things,” Nanny scolded. “It’s wrong to talk like that and there’s nowhere else you can go.”

With an effort Gina wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and walked into the sitting room.

They had actually rented the house relatively cheaply when her mother, Elizabeth Borne, had been forced to come to London to have an operation.

The house, in a quiet street in Islington, was comfortable and quite prettily furnished.

Mrs. Borne’s Doctor in the country had advised her to consult a Harley Street Surgeon because he was not happy with her condition.

Although it had been expected that the operation would not be a serious one, Elizabeth Borne had died on the operating table.

To Gina it had not only been a tremendous shock, but also the end of her happiness.

As a child she could never remember being miserable, afraid or in any way unhappy.

She had lived with her father and mother in an attractive Manor House in a small village about ten miles from London.

They were poor because the Honourable Reginald Borne was the younger son of the second Lord Calborne.

His brother, who was fifteen years older, had inherited the house and, as was traditional, most of the money was left to him.

Reggie, as he was always known, had, however, enjoyed life since the moment he was born unexpectedly, as what was always called an ‘afterthought’.

Exceedingly good-looking and a superb sportsman, he had friends who remained loyal to him all through his life.

He married to the disapproval of his father and his elder brother, a girl who he had fallen in love with.

She came of a good County family, but she had a very small dowry.

Considering Reggie had always been so handsome, everyone had assumed that he would marry an heiress or perhaps the daughter of some prestigious aristocrat.

However he was blissfully happy with the woman of his choice.

Because they were such an attractive couple and, as somebody had said, ‘always made a party go’, their friends had provided them with many luxuries they could not have afforded for themselves.

They were invited to hunt with the best packs of foxhounds with the Master mounting them both.

Reggie was always a gun at the best shoots, which meant that he and his wife were part of a house party.

He was a respected member of a polo team and his ponies were supplied by the Captain of the team because he was indispensable in matches.

Gina could not recall a time when there were not friends of her father and mother driving down from London to see them in the country.

Alternatively they would send them a carriage with instructions that they were to come to London in it because there was a ball, a party or some other entertainment at which they must be present.

Then a year ago, her father had a bad fall in a Steeplechase and, when his horse rolled on him, he was killed outright.

It was then that everything had changed.

At first it was impossible to believe that anybody who was so vividly full of life could be dead.

Gina realised very quickly that she would have to look after her mother because she was quite incapable of looking after herself.

Not only was Elizabeth Borne completely prostrate with grief at losing her husband but she only wanted to join him as quickly as possible and had no wish to go on living without him.

At first Gina told herself sensibly that ‘time was a healer’. And that her mother would get over the shock and become her normal happy self.

Instead Elizabeth Borne slowly began to fade away.

It was not that she complained or embarrassed those who came to see her by weeping and wailing. It was just that she did not seem to be with those who she was talking to.

Even when she was alone with her daughter, she seemed somehow insubstantial and only half-aware of what she was being told.

When finally Gina consulted the Doctor, who was an old family friend, he examined her mother.

He talked to Gina very seriously.

“As you know,” he said, “it is very difficult to get your mother to complain about herself or even for that matter to think of anything except your father. Yet I gather she has pain from time to time and, quite frankly, I don’t like it.”

Gina was alarmed.

“What do you suggest we do, Dr. Emerson?” she enquired.

“I will give her some medicine,” the Doctor replied, “but if she does not improve, I think it is important to have a second opinion.”

The idea, however, greatly worried Elizabeth Borne and so the Doctor and Gina stopped insisting on her seeing another Doctor until, as Gina thought afterwards, it was too late.

Finally, because she had to admit that the pains were increasing, they went to London and rented the Islington house that had been recommended to them by one of their friends.

Gina, however, still did not understand how serious things really were.

The very day after her mother had been taken into a Private Nursing Home where the operation was performed, she was told that she was dead.

It was then that she felt as if her life, as well as her mother’s, had come to an end.

She had known when she wrote to her uncle, Lord Calborne, telling him the day and time of the funeral that he was now her Guardian and The Manor House would have to be sold.

There was no question of her living there alone, her uncle would never allow that and anyway she would not have the money to afford it.

Her father had not only always spent every penny of the allowance he received from his elder brother, but he also had quite a large number of debts.

The small income her mother had from the capital that her father had left her when he died would only be enough, Gina thought, to pay for Nanny’s wage and to buy herself two or three gowns a year.

‘What can I do? Oh, God – please, what – can I – do?’ she prayed.

She had known the answer only too clearly long before her uncle had spelt it out to her.

She had only stayed at The Towers twice in her life, but she could remember with horror how miserable it had been even though she was there with her father and mother.

“I am afraid we shall have to go for Christmas, darling,” her father had said when he had opened a letter at breakfast.

“Oh, no! We cannot do that!” her mother cried.

Then her father replied,

“My mother writes to say that my father is in ill health and the Doctors say he is unlikely to have more than a month or two.”

Mrs. Borne had sighed.

“In that case we shall have to do our duty, but it will not be very amusing for Gina.”

She had been only ten at the time, but Gina could well remember the cold austerity of the outside of The Towers and the frost-like atmosphere within.

There were long rambling family prayers morning and evening.

The conversation was seldom anything but her uncle’s endeavours to, as her father put it, ‘prevent the natives of some distant country from enjoying themselves’.

The next time she went there she was fourteen and therefore forced, as her mother was, into helping her aunt, who was now Lady Calborne.

They were sewing what were known as ‘Mother Hubbards’ to cover the nakedness of the pretty dark-skinned girls of some obscure Eastern country.

There were not only prayers morning and evening but grace before meals, which lasted so long that the food became cold while Lord Calborne droned on, thanking God for it.

They stayed only three days, but Gina remembered her father saying that it seemed like three centuries of boredom and he hoped never to have to go to The Towers again.

‘How can – I possibly go there – how can I live a – life like that year after year?’ Gina asked herself.

She wished now she could die too and be with her father and mother. She was sure that, wherever they were, they would be laughing and happy.

It was typical, she thought, of her uncle’s attitude towards death, that she was to wear funeral black for twelve months.

Her father and mother had always said that if a Christian believed in the Resurrection it was sheer hypocrisy to mourn excessively.

“When you come to my funeral, my darling,” Reggie Borne had joked to his wife, “you are to wear pink roses in your hair, as you did the first time I saw you and I thought you were the loveliest woman I had ever seen in my life.”

Her mother had laughed.

“Imagine how shocked everybody would be. But you are not to talk of dying because I cannot bear to think of it.”

“Wherever I am and wherever I go,” Gina remembered her father saying, “I will not lose you and in our next incarnation, if there is one, we will be together again.”

Gina could remember now thinking how shocked her uncle would be at her father talking to her mother like that.

She knew that her uncle was firmly convinced that the sins one committed on Earth were punished in a fiery Hell, unless one was swept by death through the Gates of Paradise.

He was making quite certain that he would be welcomed on his death at the Pearly Gates. He made it very clear that he disapproved of his brother’s and sister-in-law’s attitude towards death.

She saw by his expression throughout the funeral that he was actually praying somewhat despondently for her father’s soul. And she had an uncomfortable feeling that he would enjoy saving her from what he considered to be damnation.

‘I would rather be in a Convent,’ she told herself.

Then she knew that wanting to enjoy life to the full might seem wrong to those who were religious.

She so wanted to laugh and live as her father and mother had done.

She was still in the sitting room drying her tears when Nanny suggested,

“I’ll go and make you a nice cup of tea and you know as well as I do that cryin’ will get you nowhere.”

Gina did not answer her, but she knew as Nanny went to the kitchen that she too was suffering from thoughts of what the future held.

Nanny was only in her fifties and she had no wish to retire.

Yet having been with her mother for twenty years, she would find it very difficult at her age to find other employment.

‘I cannot – lose her – I cannot,’ Gina thought despairingly.

Nanny came back with a nice cup of tea and, as Gina sipped it to please her, she said,

“It’s goin’ to be hard, dearie, I knows that. But wherever they might be your father and mother’ll be helpin’ you and perhaps it won’t be as bad as you fear.”

“It will be worse,” Gina said. “And if you could have stayed with me, I could at least have had you to talk to and perhaps, when nobody could hear, we could laugh. But without you – !”

She made a little gesture with her hands that was more eloquent than words.

As if she could find nothing more to say, Gina walked to the window to look out onto the narrow street with its neat little houses in a tidy row.

“If only you could be in London,” Nanny said behind her, “friends of the Master’s would entertain you, I knows that.”

“Instead of which I shall be in the depths of windy Gloucestershire,” Gina said, “and it is doubtful if I will ever see anybody under the age of eighty.”

Her father had often said laughingly that his brother had been born old and so the only people he could find to be pious with him were men and women older than himself.

“How can you be so different from the rest of your family?” his wife had asked once.

“I think I was a changeling,” her father had replied. “I can certainly see no resemblance between me and Edmund and my mother always swore that I came into the world laughing.”

“I am sure she was right,” Elizabeth Borne said. “And whatever happens to us, darling, we will somehow manage to laugh about it.”

And that is exactly what they did, Gina thought.

They laughed when bills bigger than they had expected came pouring in.

They laughed when the roof leaked and the dinner was burnt or when a thousand-and-one little things happened that would have made other people lose their temper.

To Reggie and Elizabeth life was a joke and Gina had laughed with them, until now, when she was all alone.

Nanny carried her cup back to the kitchen and, when she had gone, Gina looked around the room wondering what she ought to pack.

The sight of her mother’s work basket standing near the fireplace made her want to cry.

So did the miniature of her father that stood on the writing table and which Elizabeth Borne had carried with her wherever she went.

There was a Chinese embroidered shawl lying on the sofa that her mother had covered her legs with when she was resting after luncheon.

Beside it was the lace-covered pillow that Gina would arrange behind her head.

Upstairs would be all her clothes and they would have to be packed too and were pretty, although they were worn and had not cost very much money.

But Gina knew that she would not be allowed to wear them because they were not black.

Now everything was the exact opposite to creating happiness.

The Manor House had been full of colour, the curtains, the carpets, the cushions and the bedcovers.

There had been blues, pinks and the soft greens of the buds of spring, the colour in fact of the flowers in the garden, which her mother had loved.

Gina wondered if its new owner would be as happy as they had been.

She had an idea that the person who would buy it would be someone local. In fact she thought of one man, middle-aged with a young wife, who had always looked at it enviously.

Whoever bought it, what they paid would all be spent on settling her father’s outstanding debts and those she and her mother had run up locally, feeling slightly guilty as they did so.

Lord Calborne had made it quite clear that he had already instructed his Solicitors to see to all this.

Without asking her he had given orders that her personal belongings would be packed up and sent to The Towers.

She had wanted to remonstrate with him for doing anything without consulting her and for not giving her the opportunity to go home and sort things out for herself.

Then, because it seemed trivial beside the misery and shock of her mother’s death, she had not said anything.

Now all that was left for her was to go, as she had been ordered, to The Towers to be incarcerated there indefinitely.

Her whole future seemed grey without anything to relieve the monotony and deadliness of it.

Then, as she looked round the room, she saw, lying on the sofa beside the Chinese shawl, a copy of The Times.

Because she realised that she had not read a newspaper for the last four days, she walked across the room and picked it up.

She was thinking how her father had always insisted that she kept up with the political situation in the country.

She always read the editorial in The Morning Post and she and her father read together the sporting pages of the newspapers to find out who had won at the races.

The majority of the owners were friends or acquaintances of her father’s.

As she picked up The Times, she realised it was open at the Situations Vacant columns. She remembered her uncle saying that, while he was in London, he had been trying to engage a secretary to help him.

She felt herself shudder at the thought that now she would also have to help him with his Missionary work.

She thought how boring it would be and was sure that it also would be embarrassing.

She knew there would be long letters of complaint to various Governors and Officials whom he did not consider had sufficient numbers of Missionaries in the countries that they administered.

She had seen too, when she had last been at The Towers, the huge collection of tracts, printed prayers with instructions, that were sent out to the Missionaries themselves.

They were accompanied by a letter from her uncle asking questions.

How many converts had they gathered in and how many Services had been held? How many people had attended them and how many children had been baptised?

There were endless questions and behind each one, she thought, a kind of aggressive authority on her uncle’s part.

He was probing and interfering and instructing men he had never seen on what they were to do and how they were to behave.

‘I am sure he has no right to do that,’ she told herself.

Yet, she thought, if he knew that was what she was thinking, he would be very angry.

Then, as she began to fold the newspapers, something caught her eye in the ‘Situations Vacant’ column.

She read it through carefully,

“Young lady required as companion to girl of seventeen.

Comfortable and pleasant situation in the country. Apply

The Secretary, Ingleton House, Park Lane, London.’

Gina stared at it, then, as she read it and read it again, it seemed as if it was the answer to her cry for help.

For the first time since her uncle had left the house she felt just a flicker of hope within her.

Now, as she stared down at The Times, she asked herself why she should be forced into living somewhere she loathed when there might be a chance for her to obtain employment.

She had last night before she had cried herself to sleep, wondered if she could become a Teacher.

She had known without making any enquiries that she was not only too young for such a situation but also far too pretty.

She remembered what her Governesses had been like.

Although most of her education had been from local Teachers, she had two, who had each stayed at The Manor for about six months.

It was her father who had said that he could not tolerate them looking so drab and dreary about the house.

“I want my daughter to myself,” he protested, “not shadowed by some old hag.”

“You are not to talk like that, dearest,” her mother had said reprovingly. “Miss Dawson is an extremely intelligent woman.”

“But such a bore!” Gina’s father had retorted. “I try to be nice to her, I really do, but somehow, whenever she comes into the room, I feel that the sky has become overcast.”

His wife had laughed and Miss Dawson had left.

Another Teacher had certainly been more personable, but she had left of her own accord because she thought that the country was too dull.

Both women, Gina remembered, had been forty or over.

When she looked in her mirror she was certain because she looked so young that nobody would trust her with their children.

She had therefore not given the idea of being employed as a Governess another thought.

But this was something different.

Holding The Times in her hand, she ran into the kitchen.

“Look, Nanny!” she said. “Look at this. I am going to. apply and see if we can go there.”

“You’re wastin’ your time, Miss Gina,”

“How do you know?” Gina asked. “Nothing venture, nothing win. Come on Nanny, we will go there now. At least we will see what one of those houses in Park Lane looks like, I have often wondered.”

It took her ten minutes to coax Nanny into doing what she required.

“I’ll not have you gettin’ into trouble, Miss Gina, whatever you might say,” Nanny had said finally.

“I cannot see why there should be any trouble if I am looking after a girl who is only a year younger than myself.”

Nanny capitulated. Gina knew it was because they were advertising for a lady and she felt that was significant.

Dressed not in black, which would have horrified her uncle, but in a gown that was a pretty shade of blue with a bonnet trimmed with ribbons of the same colour, Gina walked with Nanny until they found a Hackney carriage.