The Windmill of Love E-Book

Barbara Cartland

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

Seitenzahl: 204

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

The thunderclouds of World War Two are gathering, sweeping away old notions of class. But still in 1938 there are almost insurmountable barriers to love – and not just those of Social rank. In the Highlands, the lovely Skye is determined to marry her penniless childhood sweetheart, Hector, but her hidebound grandfather forbids it. Meanwhile in London's Theatreland, Paris and Cannes, Skye's stepfather Norman worships the voluptuous and volatile actress Carlotta, who is blinded to her own feelings by an infatuation with money, fame and Hector too! Will Skye, Hector, Carlotta and Norman ever grasp happiness? It seems only a fatal accident has the power to seal the lovers' Fate.

Leseprobe

Authors Note

A Spanish noblewoman discovered the charm of Biarritz when it was still a small and unimportant village.

In 1838 the Countess de Montijo and her beautiful daughter, Eugénie, began going there each year.

When Eugénie became the Empress of France, she persuaded Napoleon III to visit the Basque Coast and build a residence for her called ‘The Villa Eugénie.’

Biarritz became famous and at the beginning of this century was the favourite holiday resort of King Edward VII.

On October 6th, 1889, in Paris, the Moulin Rouge opened its doors and made the Can-Can world-famous.

The Can-Can had been born during the Second Empire and was a variation of le chahut, a peasant dance which had been the delight of the working classes.

But at the Moulin Rouge it became the symbol of what was to be called ‘The Naughty Nineties’.

A fleeting glimpse of perhaps two inches of bare flesh between stockings and frilly knickers played a vital part in spreading the myth of ‘Naughty Paris.’ Apart from the dance, which was the most spectacular amusement in Paris, the programme contained a dancer known as ‘La Goulue’, who was highly erotic.

She was so unusual and fantastic that the journalists and chroniclers of Paris in the 1890s devoted a great many pages to a description of her and her various dances.

One describes her as having ‘a nose with quivering impatient nostrils, a nose of one sniffing after love, nostrils dilating with the male odour of chestnut trees and the enervating bouquet of brandy glasses’.

She was a part of the great period when for people throughout the world the Moulin Rouge became the synonym for Montmartre and Paris. In fact it was really another word for ‘Pleasure.’

Chapter One ~ 1891

The Earl of Netherton-Strangeways drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited.

He was a very good-looking man of great standing at Court as well as having a position among the English aristocrats that was second to none.

The Netherton family had played its illustrious part all through English history.

The seventh Earl had every intention of continuing that cherished tradition.

He thought with a sense of irritation that his son, the Viscount Strang, was feckless and irresponsible.

He was too intent upon enjoying himself rather than attending to his many duties.

At the same time the Earl was sensible enough to accept that ‘boys will be boys’ and that he should not expect too much from his attractive son.

On the other hand his daughter, Valeria, was, he thought, extremely intelligent besides being very beautiful.

This was not surprising considering that her mother had been acclaimed as one of the greatest beauties in London at the time.

The Countess had a fascination which, the Earl was obliged to admit, was due to her French ancestry.

She had been half-French because her father, the Marquis of Melchester, had married the daughter of the Duc de Chamois.

Even to think of his wife, who had died two years earlier, brought sadness to the Earl’s eyes.

He had married first into a family whose ancestry had equalled his own.

It had been an arranged marriage, which, like so many others, had failed both the bride and the bridegroom.

Although he preferred not to admit it, it had been a relief when, having produced a son and heir, his wife had died of some unknown Oriental disease.

It was less than two years later that the Earl remarried and this time it was for love.

He had been completely bowled over the very first time he saw the face of Lady Yvonne Chester at a fashionable ball that had taken place at Windsor Castle with all the usual pomp and circumstance.

He fell very much in love with her.

He was also frantic lest he should lose the one woman he really wanted in his life.

They had been married in what the gossips referred to spitefully as ‘indecent haste’.

And they were blissfully happy from the moment they had met.

Their only sadness was that Yvonne had been able to produce just the one child, their daughter, Valeria.

However, the Earl was thinking now that Valeria had more than made up for any other children that they might have had.

She was beautiful, a good rider, and she had a charisma which, like her mother, attracted everybody to her.

The door now opened and Valeria came rushing into the room and she seemed to bring the sunshine with her.

She said as she closed the door,

“Forgive me, Papa, if I have kept you waiting, but I was in the stables and they did not find me for some time with your message.”

“I might have guessed that was where you would be,” the Earl said, “and I suppose you are going to tell me that Crusader has jumped even higher than he did yesterday.”

This was a family joke and Valeria laughed before she responded,

“The jumps will have to be raised again by at least six inches!”

“Nonsense,” the Earl replied. “They are high enough already. Now, sit down, Valeria, I want to talk to you.”

There was a serious note in her father’s voice which made Valeria look at him sharply.

“What is wrong, Papa?” she enquired.

“There is nothing wrong,” the Earl answered, “but I have been thinking seriously about your future.”

Valeria stiffened.

She had had a presentiment that her father would be speaking to her sooner or later about marriage. She had known that the subject had been in his mind for some time now.

She had developed a habit of reading the thoughts of those she loved.

She had diligently prayed to herself that she was mistaken.

Now she knew that her prayers had not been answered.

“You are aware,” the Earl began somewhat pompously, “that now that you have been presented at Court and the London Season is nearly over, we should be thinking about your marriage.”

Valeria stiffened, but she did not speak and the Earl went on,

“I have given it a great deal of thought and yesterday when I was in London I went to see your grandmother.”

Valeria laughed and it was a very pretty sound. She was devoted to her grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Melchester.

She knew that, because she loved her, she would not let her father insist on her marrying somebody she disliked or who she had no affinity with.

Quickly, as if she anticipated what her father was about to tell her, Valeria spoke up,

“You will remember, Papa, Mama always used to say that, because you and she were so happy together, you would never make me marry someone I did not love.”

“I have not forgotten that,” the Earl agreed, “but you have not as yet told me of anyone you have lost your heart to.”

Valeria smiled.

“I can assure you, Papa, in all sincerity that there is no one. I have received proposals of marriage that I could not avoid, as well as a number of tentative advances that I have ‘nipped in the bud’.”

The Earl laughed as if he could not help it.

“I am very sure that you did it very competently.”

“I hope so,” Valeria said. “I hate to hurt anyone and it must be very humiliating for a man to lay his heart at a woman’s feet ‒ only to have it trampled on.”

“I think I know most of your suitors,” the Earl said, “and I can only say that I disapprove of all of them!”

“I thought you would.” Valeria smiled.

There was a short silence until the Earl said,

“What your grandmother has suggested, and, of course, I agree, is that you and I should go to France and be the guests of the Duc de Laparde.”

Valeria was surprised at his suggestion and then she exclaimed,

“Grandmama has spoken about the Duc many times, but I never would have thought – I never – imagined that she was – thinking of me as his Duchesse.”

“I expect you already know,” the Earl replied, “that the Duc was married when he was very young to a bride who was considered a suitable match by both his parents and hers.”

Valeria nodded and the Earl went on,

“Unfortunately the Duc’s parents discovered too late that there was a streak of insanity in the girl’s family.”

He paused for a moment before continuing his story,

“As soon as they had been married, it appeared in a most unpleasant manner that both bewildered and disgusted her bridegroom.”

“It must have been a tragedy for him,” Valeria commented quietly.

“It was,” the Earl agreed. “Finally the girl was taken into a Private Nursing Home, where not even her closest relatives were allowed to visit her nor communicate with her.”

He was silent for a few moments as if he was reflecting.

Then he continued,

“As you have just said, it was a tragedy for a young man, who was only about twenty-two at the time. No one blamed him therefore when he consoled himself in Paris as well as in other amusing places in Europe.”

“Grandmama told me that eventually his wife had died.”

“After two or three years, I believe,” the Earl agreed, “and it was hardly surprising when Claudius Laparde declared that never again would he marry.”

“I do remember Grandmama telling me how upset his family were,” Valeria said, “but one can really understand his feelings.”

“Of course, of course,” the Earl agreed. “But the Duc is now well over thirty and your grandmother has suggested that you and I invite ourselves to stay for a week or so at his Château to see if you can change the Duc’s mind.”

Valeria stared at her father.

“Do you seriously believe that is possible, Papa?” she asked.

“It could happen,” her father answered, “and, like your grandmother, my dearest child, it would give me great pleasure to see you as a Duchesse and Chatelaine of a fine Château.”

Valeria made a little gesture with her hands and was then silent.

Next quite unexpectedly she laughed.

Her father looked at her in surprise and she explained,

“Forgive me, Papa, but the whole idea is so preposterous and it is just like Grandmama, who lives in a Fairyland of her own making. Being French, she is very romantic while at the same time being very practical.”

She laughed again.

“Of course she wants the Duc to marry. At the same time she would not choose anyone who is not, like your daughter, blue-blooded and has a very considerable dowry to bring to her future husband.”

The mocking way in which Valeria spoke made the Earl’s eyes twinkle,

Then he too chuckled.

“As an innocent young debutante, you are not supposed to know of such things!” he declared.

“I may be innocent, but not idiotic, Papa. When Grandmama was talking about the Duc in the past and not thinking of me as his future wife, she told me of his many affaires de coeur with beautiful exciting women. She made him sound just like a modem Casanova!”

The Earl frowned.

“Your grandmother should be more discreet.”

Valeria laughed again.

“That is something she will never be and it is one of her ‒ greatest charms. She always says the unexpected.”

“At thirty the Duc should have ‘sown his wild oats’ and then be ready to settle down,” the Earl remarked.

“For a Frenchman that is most unlikely,” Valeria replied, “as Grandmama explained to me in one of her indiscreet conversations, a Frenchman will treat his wife in public with the utmost politeness and consideration while at the same time he has an alluring lady tucked away in his garçonnière.”

The Earl brought the flat of his hand down so hard on the desk that it made the inkpot rattle.

‘Your grandmother has no right to tell you such things!” he said severely. “I shall speak to her about it,”

“It is too late, Papa, the damage is already done,” Valeria replied. “And so the answer to your proposition is quite simply ‘no’!”

‘Very well,” her father said, “we must try some other way, for, as your dear grandmother rightly pointed out, there are no eligible bachelors amongst the English Dukes and she had the impression also from what you had said to her that you found the average English suitor somewhat boring.”

“That is certainly true,” Valeria replied. “They talk a great deal about horses, but most of them have never bothered to find out how they are bred or even how they are trained.”

The Earl’s eyes were twinkling again.

“That is hardly of consequence when it comes to marriage!”

“It is, as far as I am concerned,” Valeria argued with him.

“In that case,” the Earl said, “I should tell you that the Duc has had considerable success with his Racehorses and is, so I believe, considered to be one of the best amateur riders in all of France.”

“I too have heard that,” Valeria replied, “but I would certainly hate, Papa, to be an also ran to some attractive courtesan with whom he spends his time in Paris.”

She saw the frown between her father’s eyes and carried on quickly,

“If you had behaved like that, can you imagine how hurt and unhappy Mama would have been?”

“I know, I know?” the Earl agreed. “At the same time, my dearest, we have to face facts. The happiness that I found with your mother is something that happens only once in a million times.”

“But that is what I want for myself,” Valeria said softly.

“And God knows, it is what I want for you,” her father answered. “But then we cannot materialise out of thin air a man who will capture your heart and your imagination, so what are we going to do?”

Valeria thought for a moment.

Then she said,

“What I think we should do, Papa, which will make Grandmama happy, is to go to stay with the Duc – as she suggests.”

The Earl looked at his daughter in surprise as she went on,

“I have always longed to see the Pyrenees and, if we are then bored at the Château, as doubtless we will be, perhaps we could go on to stay at Biarritz.”

“It is certainly an idea,” the Earl agreed.

“Then I will go with you on one condition,” Valeria said, “and that is if you will promise me – and you never break your promises, Papa – that you will not try to persuade me to marry the Duc, even if he should, which I very much doubt, wish to marry me.”

“I made that promise to your mother,” the Earl said, “so there is no reason for me not to make the same promise to you. But I agree it would be amusing to see the Duc’s Château that your grandmother continually enthuses about.”

“Grandmama makes it sound like a mixture of Kublai Khan’s Palace and the Garden of Eden,” Valeria said. “I am very doubtful if any place could be so perfect except for Paradise itself!”

The Earl laughed.

“Then we must go and find out and, as you say, it would he amusing to see Biarritz. Her Majesty Queen Victoria was talking about the place only the other day and just how much she enjoyed her visit there two years ago.”

“We will have a great deal of fun, Papa and, when we return to England, we will make a list of all the eligible bachelors that we both approve of.”

“You are saying that merely to placate me,” the Earl then complained. “At the same time there must be a man somewhere in the world who can live up to your high standards.”

“My requirements are quite simple,” Valeria replied, “I want to marry a man I love and who loves me.”

She paused before she added,

“And he must, Papa, be as good-looking, as kind and understanding and at least half as intelligent as you are!”

The Earl held up his hands.

“So now you are flattering me and you are doing it in that irresistible French manner of which your mother was a past master.”

Valeria walked around the desk and, bending down, kissed her father,

“I love you, Papa,” she sighed, “and quite frankly I am so happy at home that I have no wish to go away and live in a strange house with a strange man, even if he is as grand as the Shah of Persia!”

“You know I want to keep you with me,” the Earl replied. “At the same time, my darling, as your grandmother pointed out, it is always wise for a beautiful woman to be married when she is young.”

“What Grandmama is implying is that I might have a very unfortunate love affair with somebody I could not marry,” Valeria answered. “Don’t worry, Papa, the only person I am in love with at the moment is Crusader and, to be honest, I find him far more attractive than any man I have yet to meet.”

The Earl laughed and, rising, put his arm round his daughter.

“It must be nearly luncheontime now,” he said, “and the best thing we can both do this afternoon is to go riding.”

“I would love that, Papa, if you have nothing better to do,” Valeria replied.

“Nothing could be better than to ride together,” the Earl said as he smiled, “but before we go I will write a letter to the Duc suggesting we come and stay with him in a fortnight’s time.”

Valeria thought for a moment.

“That would be about right,” she said. “All the best balls will be over by then and that reminds me – we are going to one this evening or had you forgotten?”

“No, of course not,” the Earl replied “considering that we have promised to have thirty guests to dinner.”

“I am looking forward to dancing with the windows open to the garden. It is much more attractive than being cooped up in London when the weather is hot.”

“Cooped up or not,” the Earl remarked, “we have a number of engagements next week and I want you to look your best.”

Valeria gave him a sharp glance.

“Are you still match-making, Papa?” she asked.

“Oh, do stop it. If this miraculous man does appear, he will without doubt drop down the chimney!”

She gave a little laugh before she went on,

“Alternatively, if that is what the Gods decree, I will meet him when I am riding in Rotten Row or find him sitting next to me at one of those long-drawn-out dinner parties which, quite frankly, I find as boring as you do.”

“Who told you I find them boring?” her father asked sharply.

“I don’t need to be told,” Valeria answered. “You look bored and it is not surprising. You always have the oldest and dullest women on either side of you because they are the most important! I am sure that you would rather have someone young and pretty like me.”

The Earl laughed.

“Anyone as young and pretty as you would not want someone as old and dull as me to talk to.”

“Don’t you be too sure about that, Papa,” Valeria replied. “As I love and admire you so much, I shall doubtless marry an octogenarian, or perhaps one of those Gentlemen-in-Waiting at Buckingham Palace who I was thinking only the other day must all be over eighty.”

The Earl laughed again.

When two minutes later he walked to the dining room with his daughter on his arm, he was thinking how like her mother she was.

Everything she did and said seemed to sparkle and it was impossible for anyone to be bored when they were in her company.

‘I have to find her a husband, who will learn to love and understand her,’ he mused.

He well knew that it was going to be a most difficult and problematic task.

In fact, because of Valeria’s positive views, it was going to be very very difficult.

*

Ten days later Valeria was upstairs in her bedroom at Strang House in Park Lane.

She was busy sorting out the gowns that she intended to take with her to France.

She discarded those which were too worn after the Season and not elegant enough to be appreciated by the French.

In his reply to her father’s letter the Duc had written enthusiastically.

He was looking forward to seeing the Earl, as he wished to discuss his Racehorses with him and obtain his opinion on the horseflesh that he had recently acquired.

“ –  and of course I shall be delighted for you to bring your daughter, Lady Valeria, with you.”

The letter was reasonably reassuring as far as Valeria was concerned.

It was clear that the Duc did not realise why the visit had been proposed by the Dowager Duchess.

Her grandmother, whom Valeria had gone to see when she was in London, had assured her that she had never even hinted at the idea of marriage when she had written to the Duc.

“I write to him frequently,” the Dowager Duchess said, “and, of course, I tell him all about the success your father has had on the Racecourse. After all your mother was the first cousin of the Duc’s father and relationships in France count for a great deal.”

“You are quite certain, Grandmama, you did not suggest as you did to Papa that the Duc and I should be married?”

“Of course not,” the Dowager Duchess replied, “and I can assure you, my dearest, that if Claudius thought that he was being manoeuvred into a trap, he would be over the horizon long before you could even put in an appearance.”

“I call that very sensible of him,” Valeria remarked.

“There is nothing sensible about a man in his position and without an heir,” the Dowager Duchess said. “Think, dearest child, of that glorious Château, with the Pyrenees forming a background to it, of that big house in the Champs-Élysées and his horses – and, Mon Dieu – what horses they are!”

Valeria laughed.

“Now you are trying to tempt me, Grandmama, and I can only say quite firmly, ‘Get thee behind me, Satan’!”

The Dowager Duchess, who was still beautiful at nearly eighty years of age, threw up her hands in despair.

“You are impossible, quite impossible!” she complained. “Who are you waiting for? The King of Siam or the Archangel Gabriel?”

“I think the Archangel Michael would be more appropriate,” Valeria replied, “but, as he is not available, I shall just have to go on looking.”

Her grandmother sighed.

“You know, ma petite, I only want your happiness, and no woman, I promise you, can be happy if she becomes an ‘Old Maid’.”

“There is plenty of time before I reach that stage,” Valeria said, “and I would rather be an ‘Old Maid’ than be bored or made to be miserable by a man I have nothing in common with.”

The Dowager Duchess gave a little cry of horror.

“You are being blind when you are just so beautiful! My dear child, what are women for, except to amuse and capture a man?”

“But only if they are worth capturing,” Valeria said, “and, as I told Papa, I find Crusader so much more attractive than any of them!”

“Horses – always horses!” the Dowager Duchess exclaimed in frustration. “But there at least you and Claudius would have something to talk about in the long winter evenings.”

“Only if he was there, Grandmama! And you will remember that it was you who told me of the attractions of Paris that all nicely brought up young girls are completely ignorant of.”

“Tiens! It is my tongue, my most unfortunate tongue,” the Dowager Duchess then said despairingly. “I say too much and then I regret it!”

Valeria laughed and kissed her grandmother.

“You can never talk too much for me,” she said, “and I love your stories of all the people you knew when you were young. I have also enjoyed everything you have told me about the dashing Duc who, Château or no Château, will always be off to ‘pastures new’.”

The Dowager Duchess again held up her hands in horror.

As she left the house, Valeria was smiling.

‘Forewarned is forearmed,’ she told herself. ‘And so at least I shall not be deceived by anything the Duc says. Nor will I be so foolish as to fall in love with him, as Grandmama hopes.’

At the same time she was very sure that he would be very critical and dismiss her as an unfledged jeune fille.

It was the Dowager Duchess who had said to Valeria some months ago when they were talking about him,

“I wish Claudius could find a girl amongst the French aristocratic families who would make him the sort of wife he should have.”

That was before it had struck the Dowager Duchess that the difficult and raffish Claudius might be linked with her.

“There must be plenty of jeunes filles in France!” Valeria had said.