The Earl's Revenge

THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND-1

THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLANDBarbara 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.

“True Love can never be changed or lost by the passage of time, old age or death.”

Barbara Cartland

CHAPTER ONE

1819Charles Lyndon was driving his Highflyer phaeton.

He thought his team of four horses were the best he had ever handled.

This build of phaeton was becoming most popular with the young bucks of St. James’s, and he had proudly owned his since his return from the Army of Occupation in France.

It was an immensely high vehicle that was extremely difficult to drive, particularly with four horses.

The rear wheels were an unbelievable five feet eight inches in diameter, and the floor of the body was five feet from the ground.

He considered it the most sporting vehicle any gentleman could possess. Sleek and beautiful, it lent itself to racing and required skill and daring to drive. Alongside that there was always the chance of an accident, which might prove fatal.

This element of additional danger added a certain thrill, which most young bloods found even more alluring.

It was not just the gentlemen who admired the Highflyer. The vehicle’s great height made it possible for the fashionable ladies of Society to gaze insolently down on pedestrians.

Charles Lyndon never felt the need to look down on anyone, but he was very conscious of his own importance and position.

He was undoubtedly, since his return from the war, the most handsome, the most sought after and the smartest buck of all the bucks in White’s Club.

He had, in fact, taken London by storm.

Returning from France with two of the most prestigious medals for gallantry the Duke of Wellington could award, he was also the youngest ever Commander of a large body of troops in the British Army.

The Duke had praised him so highly to the Prince Regent that he was a now constant visitor to Carlton House.

In addition he was extremely rich, not only because his father had left him a large fortune, but also because his mother had been a great heiress.

To crown it all he was heir presumptive to his uncle, the Earl of Lyndonmore, who had been ill for some years, but still managed to reach the age of sixty-five.

In short Charles Lyndon was an eligible young man with good prospects.

All of Charles’s friends admired and imitated him, but there were, of course, a few men who were envious and jealous.

They were especially jealous of his success amongst the most fashionable beauties in Society, usually referred to as the ‘Beau Monde’, French for ‘beautiful world’.

They called him the ‘never never Peer.’

Charles managed to laugh at this, but at the same time the sobriquet annoyed him.

He had enjoyed a year of endless gaiety and festivity in London after his return from France. It was not only the sophisticated married and widowed ladies who would fling themselves into his arms, but he was also pursued by every ambitious mother with a debutante daughter.

The Cyprians, a group of courtesans named for Aphrodite and renowned for their beauty, were at the height of their fame. Not permitted to attend the balls given by Society, these mistresses to the wealthy organised their own glamorous events. So it was not surprising that Charles had successfully courted the most beautiful, the most talented and most sought after of them all.

In fact his life had become almost too perfect and easy. At times he found himself secretly bored and longing for more excitement and the unexpected, as had occurred at war.

It was this more than anything that made him decide as he was nearing twenty-eight that it was time he was married.

He owned one of the finest houses in England.

Lyndon Hall in the County of Berkshire had been in the family since the seventeenth century.

The old house had been pulled down and while a new mansion was being built, the Earl of Lyndonmore had moved to Northumberland, where he found better fishing and grouse shooting than anywhere else in the country.

He had therefore given over the family house to his brother, Charles’s father.

Charles had been brought up at Lyndon Hall and he loved it more than any other place in the world.

The rebuilding of the mansion had been carried out by the greatest architect of the time – Robert Adam.

His genius belonged to the school of architectural thought that sprang from the Italian Renaissance. With its virtues of formality and dignity, this had produced a great number of British historic houses and buildings over the preceding years.

However, Robert Adam was a modern architect, freer and bolder than this very traditional approach. His motto was not correctness – but movement.

At Lyndon Hall he achieved this brilliantly, designing the fluid curves of a magnificent staircase, a unique marble hall of unrivalled beauty and a dome more impressive than on any other house.

When it was finished the house was larger, more beautiful and more imposing than any Palace.

Once he had set his mind to something, Charles always worked quickly.

If, after his father’s death he was to live at Lyndon Hall, he rationalised, he required a wife who would naturally in time give him a son or preferably sons. Then he would have an heir to inherit his vast fortune and possessions on his death.

He looked round Society ballrooms at the eager faces whose eyes lit up whenever he appeared, choosing to dance with the most beautiful of all the beauties the Beau Monde could produce.

Amongst this bevy of beauties was Silver Bancroft, the daughter of a distinguished Statesman.

She was undoubtedly the most admired and the most beautiful of her contemporaries.

Charles had been struck from the first moment he saw her, though not exactly with love.

He mused about her potential as his wife, seeing her projected against the background of Lyndon Hall, aware that her beauty equalled the sculptured Goddesses who decorated the Marble Hall.

He also knew instinctively, without asking, what her reply would be if he offered her marriage.

Silver was a much sought after young lady. She had received every compliment it was possible to receive and it was said that the number of her more serious suitors was already in double figures.

Charles however was not worried.

He would be the victor, as he always had been in everything else. He saw no reason why this should not apply to matrimony.

He had seen Silver last night and whilst dancing he had whispered to her,

“I have a question to ask you and I am wondering where we can be alone.”

Silver had laughed.

She had often been told that her laughter was like the sound of silver bells.

It was one of the reasons she had changed her name from Sylvia, as she had been christened, to Silver.

It was inevitable from then on that every man when he heard her name would say,

“That is not right for you. You should be Gold or Diamond, nothing less!”

She had smiled at them all bewitchingly at the same time thinking what a pleasant change it would be if any man said something different to the last.

She knew without Charles saying any more what he intended, so she had replied,

“We will be travelling to the country tomorrow, as Papa likes to be there for the weekends. If you call on Saturday afternoon, I shall be delighted to greet you.”

Charles did not say that it would delight him too, so he merely replied,

“I will be with you at two o’clock.”

Then to her great surprise he did not ask her for another dance and left the ball a little later without even saying goodnight.

Nevertheless as she returned to her father’s house in Belgrave Square she was telling herself she had beaten all her friends.

They had been trying to attract Charles Lyndon’s attention ever since he had appeared on the Social scene.

Charles drove his horses with an expertise which was exceptional like everything else he undertook.

He was thinking that they should hold the wedding in the country and after a short honeymoon they would go to Lyndon Hall.

There were a great number of improvements that he wished to undertake at the Hall, including a large amount of restoration.

Despite its great architecture the house had been neglected in the war whilst he had been away, although the older servants, who had been there ever since he was a boy, had looked after it as well as they could.

Yet a certain amount of money needed to be spent on redecoration of the main rooms and most of the outside brickwork needed repointing.

He decided he would build a private Racecourse too.

‘I have a great deal to do,’ Charles told himself, ‘so there is no question of being bored. Silver can do all the entertaining that is socially necessary.’

He realised only too well that would be inevitable as once he took up residence again the neighbours would fall over themselves to call on him, and many of them had been close friends of the family when he was a boy.

Social life had come to a standstill during the long war with Napoleon, but now that England was the glorious victor everything would return to normal and no one would have a moment to spare.

He certainly found London overwhelming.

He had noticed before he left his house in Berkeley Square that there was a huge pile of letters unopened on his writing desk.

They were mostly invitations he felt sure, and in a short time there would undoubtedly be an enormous pile of wedding presents too.

He was most thankful for his extremely intelligent and bright secretary.

The man who had served his father had retired and he had therefore asked Major Monsell, who had been under his command in the war, to take his place.

Charles was sure he would soon put all his affairs into order and save him a great deal of tedious work.

The horses he was driving were beautifully trained – he had purchased them at Tattersall’s the previous week.

They were now gathering speed and he thought he had never driven a better team and although they had been expensive, they were worth every penny he had paid.

He turned in at the somewhat over-elaborate gates of Lord Bancroft’s house, feeling certain he had broken every record that anyone else could have achieved in driving down directly from London.