The Eternal Collection

Chapter One ~1819-1

“I have sold that dog,” the Earl pronounced

For a moment Manella looked at him in astonishment.

Then she asked,

“What do you mean. Uncle Herbert? You cannot have sold Flash? It could not be true!”

“Your father took him out shooting with Lord Lambourne one day last year, I am told, and Lambourne was extremely impressed that he was so fast and so obedient.”

“My father was very fond of Flash,” Manella then replied, “but he is my dog. He belongs to me.”

myHer uncle gave her a searching look before he asked her abruptly,

“You have that in writing?”

“No, of course not,” Manella answered. “Is it likely that Papa would write down what he had given me? But Flash has always been mine and mine alone since he was a small puppy.”

“You will not want him with you in London,” the Earl said. “So Lambourne is coming to fetch him tomorrow afternoon.”

Manella gave a cry that came from her heart.

“You cannot – you cannot do this to me, Uncle Herbert! I refuse to allow it and I will – not lose Flash.”

.The Earl of Avondale walked across the room to stand upright in front of the fireplace.

“Now, let us get this clear, Manella,” he said. “Your father left very little money and you are now my responsibility. And you will appreciate that therefore I am doing what is best for you and will continue to do so to the best of my ability.”

Manella did not reply and so her uncle went on,

“I have gone to a great deal of trouble already to arrange that you shall have a Season in London and then the Duchess of Westmoore will be chaperoning you.”

Vaguely at the back of her mind, Manella recalled that the Duchess of Westmoore was very beautiful.

She had heard her father remark that his brother, Herbert, was making a fool of himself over her.

She did not say anything aloud and so the Earl went on,

“Most girls would be jumping for joy at the idea of being chaperoned by a Duchess. And I have also, I do believe, found you a husband.”

Manella drew in a deep breath.

“I don’t mean to be rude to you, Uncle Herbert,” she said, “but I don’t want my husband, when I have one, found for me. I wish to marry someone I love.”

The Earl laughed and it was not a very humorous sound.

“Beggars cannot be choosers,” my dear niece,” he quoted for her benefit. “I happened to be in White’s Club last week when the Duke of Dunster came into the morning room.”

Beggars cannot be choosers“The Duke of Dunster was a good friend of Papa’s,” Manella interposed.

“I do know that,” he replied, “and I also know that he would give anything in the world to have a son to succeed him and inherit the Dukedom.”

“I can hardly believe it that you should be – considering the Duke as my – husband,” Manella said hesitatingly. “He is old – very old.”

“What has that got to do with it?” the Earl enquired. “He is a Duke, he is rich and, if you are lucky enough to marry him, your whole future is completely made for you.”

“I think you must be mad,” Manella retorted, “if you think I would consider – marrying a man who is – old enough to be my – grandfather.”

“I know the Duke has admitted that he can no longer shoot. But his son can do that, when he has one,” the Earl replied, “Before you give me any more of your cheek, let me point out, Manella that, as I am your Guardian, you have to obey me and, if I tell you that you are to marry the Duke, you will marry him!”

“In which case you will have to drag me to the Altar – and I assure you that once I am there I will refuse to take part in the Marriage Service!” Manella countered furiously.

There was now an ominous look in her uncle’s eyes as he went on,

“The trouble with you, Manella, is that you have been spoilt. You are a pretty girl, I will not argue about that. But unless you want to starve and be left without a penny to your name, you will do exactly what I tell you to do – and immediately!”

He walked slowly across the room to the door.

“I am going to inform Glover that Lord Lambourne will be here tomorrow afternoon. He will collect Flash and I hope I will be able to sell him at least two horses. The rest are only fit for the butcher.”

He stalked out of the room as he finished speaking, slamming the door noisily behind him.

For a few moments Manella could only stare after him.

She could not believe what she had just heard and could not credit that it was the truth and she was not dreaming in a horrible nightmare.

How was it possible that her father’s brother could behave in such a heartless and cruel way to her?

How could he take away Flash, whom she loved so much and who had been with her ever since he was born?

,He had grown into a very fine and spirited Setter.

He was powerful but elegant. His white coat flecked with black was fine and silky and slightly wavy and he was greatly admired by everyone who saw him.

He followed her about the house, slept in her bedroom, and in fact went everywhere that she went.

It had never occurred to her when her uncle had said that they were going to London that she would not be able to take Flash with her.

Now she was not only going to lose the house where she had been born and where she had lived happily and contently ever since.

She was to lose Flash and Heron, the horse that she had always ridden and had believed was also hers.

She knew only too well that there were just the two horses in all of the stables that Lord Lambourne was likely to be interested in.

One of them was Heron.

.On top of all this her uncle was now talking to her about her being married, but not to a man whom she might love and cherish.

He wanted her to marry a decrepit old man who wanted a wife only in order to have a son.

The horror of it all swept over her like a tidal wave and she wanted to scream and go on screaming.

Then she told herself that she must be calm and keep her self-control.

She must try to find some escape from this dreadful ghastly mist in which she felt that she was being suffocated by a cruel and harsh Fate.

She then looked up at the portrait over the mantelpiece, which was of her father.

It had been painted when he was a young man by one of the great artists of the time who had painted the Prince of Wales before he became the Prince Regent.

The sixth Earl of Avondale, her father, looked extremely distinguished and, as she told herself, very much the perfect gentleman.

It was something that her uncle certainly was not and never had been. It had often struck her in the past what an extraordinary difference there was between her father and his younger brother, her uncle.

She remembered once, when a large bill was sent to him because his brother had failed to settle it, her father saying,

“I suppose that there must be a ‘Black Sheep’ in every family, but Herbert is certainly proving himself blacker than most!”

Somehow the Earl had managed to pay his brother’s debts and it was not for the first or the last time.

It was in point of fact largely due to Herbert’s extravagance that they were so hard up.

The War against the French and Napoleon Bonaparte had certainly made everything very difficult for English families in all walks of life.

A number of those who had rented out their houses had left them because they were too large and expensive to run.

Or else they could not pay even the reasonable rent that the Earl was asking for

At the same time the farms did well because there were no foreign imports coming onto the market to compete with their produce

England therefore had to be self-supporting.

But, as soon as the War was over, the farmers began to feel the pinch and a number of County Banks had even closed their doors.

‘If only Papa had not died just at this moment,’ Manella thought to herself despairingly over and over again.

He had suffered an unexpected heart attack last autumn for no particular reason and had been able to hang on to life for only a few weeks.

Herbert, the ‘Black Sheep’, the ne’er-do-well, had then come into the title.

Because he had expected to have to wait many years before this happened, he had great difficulty in looking solemn and sad at his brother’s funeral.

There had always been the possibility too that his brother might marry again and then go on to produce an heir.

But he himself was now the Earl!

As soon as the funeral Service was over, Herbert had started looking around the house for something to sell.

But most of the pictures and furniture were entailed onto each succeeding Earl, whoever he might be.

Herbert had said to Manella without the slightest hint of any embarrassment,

“I now have the opportunity of finding myself a rich bride.”

Manella said nothing and he looked at her with a sneer on his lips as he added,

“You need not be so hoity-toity! You know as well as I do that your father was ‘down to bedrock’, which is something I myself have been now for years and years!”

He was silent for a moment or two before he went on,

“But then an Earl, poor or not, is a different story from a younger son with no prospects at all!”

“Then I would hope, Uncle Herbert,” Manella said stiffly, “that you will find someone you can be really happy with.”

“I will be happy with anyone providing she is rich enough,” her uncle replied.

He had gone back to London, taking with him a number of items from the house that he intended to sell.

There was some Sèvres china that her mother had always been very fond of.

SèvresManella tried her best to prevent him from removing it from the house.

“Now don’t be so stupid,” her uncle objected. “You know that I need money and it is for your benefit rather than mine that I intend to open up Avondale House in Berkeley Square.”

Manella looked at him in astonishment.

“How can you afford to do that?” she asked. “Papa always said it was terribly expensive to keep up and needed a great number of servants.”

“I am well aware of that,” her uncle admitted, “but I shall be closing this house, leaving only a skeleton staff just in case I would wish to give a party here.”

He saw the consternation in Manella’s face and then added,

“So, of course, I shall have to impress my rich bride with the ancestral home of the Earls of Avondale.”