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Authors: Barbara Cartland
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you ever – came here.”
“I think that would be impossible,” Lord Cheriton said, “and what is more, speaking as a leopard, I am not afraid.”
“Even a leopard can be captured and – killed.”
There was a little pause before the last word.
“But the war is over,” Lord Cheriton said.
“Not all wars – they go on – forever – and there is no – end to them.”
“That is what we felt in the long years that we were fighting Napoleon, and yet finally he has been defeated.”
“That is true.”
“Supposing we had given up and let him conquer England as he had conquered most of the Continent? Have you any idea what suffering there would have been?”
“Oh, I know – I know!” Wivina said. “I have thought of everything that you are saying now – but the French were an enemy that you could see – it was all straightforward, a fight against a foreign power, against a tyrant who was hated by everyone except the men of his own nationality.”
She paused, then she said with a little sob in her voice,
“But when it is brother against brother – father against son – then it is different.”
“And yet we must still fight against what is wrong and evil,” Lord Cheriton said quietly.
For the first time she looked up at him.
“Now you are speaking like Papa.”
Even as she said the words, she shivered and then said almost beneath her breath,
“He tried to be – brave – he was brave!”
“And they killed him!” Lord Cheriton said very quietly.
“H-how did you know – why do you say that?”
There was a note of abject fear behind the words. Then almost frantically she cried,
“It was an accident – I was told it was an accident! But Papa was always so insistent that we should never go near the very edge of the cliffs, so why – why should he have gone there? It was somewhere he never went at night.”
She sounded so desperate that Lord Cheriton put his hand on hers where it rested on the edge of the stone balustrade.
He felt her fingers tremble beneath his, then her breath seemed a little less hurried and the tumult of her feelings seemed to subside.
“I am – sorry,” she said after a moment.
“What for?” Lord Cheriton asked. “You loved your father, and he died because he spoke his mind and denounced those who are wrong and evil.”
He sensed that this was the truth and he heard Wivina draw in her breath before she replied,
“Now you understand why you must go away.”
“I understand only that I must stay,” Lord Cheriton answered. “I think both you and Richard need me and perhaps so do a number of other people as well”
“What can you do?” she asked. “One man, even a leopard, against – ”
She turned round suddenly.
“You are brave and I admire you for it, but Papa was brave too, and I could not bear to find your – body where we found – his.”
Her eyes looked up into his as she spoke with so deep a passion and emotion in her voice that her words seemed to vibrate on the air between them.
Then they were both very still.
Slowly, almost like the dawn coming up the sky, the colour rose in Wivina’s cheeks as Lord Cheriton lifted her hand and raised it to his lips.
“Thank you, Wivina.”
Again he felt her fingers trembling in his, and he knew that something had happened between them, something strange, but for the moment he was afraid to explain even to himself what it was.
As if she felt the same, Wivina turned and walked from the terrace back into the salon.
She lit the candles one by one and Lord Cheriton sitting down in a chair watched her.
He was thinking as he did so how little he knew about young women, yet even so he was certain that Wivina was different from her contemporaries.
It was not only her beauty and her grace and he had a feeling that while she might be young in years, she was old in many other ways.
She had suffered the loss of her father and mother, she had tried to look after her brother, and she had endured a
“I think that would be impossible,” Lord Cheriton said, “and what is more, speaking as a leopard, I am not afraid.”
“Even a leopard can be captured and – killed.”
There was a little pause before the last word.
“But the war is over,” Lord Cheriton said.
“Not all wars – they go on – forever – and there is no – end to them.”
“That is what we felt in the long years that we were fighting Napoleon, and yet finally he has been defeated.”
“That is true.”
“Supposing we had given up and let him conquer England as he had conquered most of the Continent? Have you any idea what suffering there would have been?”
“Oh, I know – I know!” Wivina said. “I have thought of everything that you are saying now – but the French were an enemy that you could see – it was all straightforward, a fight against a foreign power, against a tyrant who was hated by everyone except the men of his own nationality.”
She paused, then she said with a little sob in her voice,
“But when it is brother against brother – father against son – then it is different.”
“And yet we must still fight against what is wrong and evil,” Lord Cheriton said quietly.
For the first time she looked up at him.
“Now you are speaking like Papa.”
Even as she said the words, she shivered and then said almost beneath her breath,
“He tried to be – brave – he was brave!”
“And they killed him!” Lord Cheriton said very quietly.
“H-how did you know – why do you say that?”
There was a note of abject fear behind the words. Then almost frantically she cried,
“It was an accident – I was told it was an accident! But Papa was always so insistent that we should never go near the very edge of the cliffs, so why – why should he have gone there? It was somewhere he never went at night.”
She sounded so desperate that Lord Cheriton put his hand on hers where it rested on the edge of the stone balustrade.
He felt her fingers tremble beneath his, then her breath seemed a little less hurried and the tumult of her feelings seemed to subside.
“I am – sorry,” she said after a moment.
“What for?” Lord Cheriton asked. “You loved your father, and he died because he spoke his mind and denounced those who are wrong and evil.”
He sensed that this was the truth and he heard Wivina draw in her breath before she replied,
“Now you understand why you must go away.”
“I understand only that I must stay,” Lord Cheriton answered. “I think both you and Richard need me and perhaps so do a number of other people as well”
“What can you do?” she asked. “One man, even a leopard, against – ”
She turned round suddenly.
“You are brave and I admire you for it, but Papa was brave too, and I could not bear to find your – body where we found – his.”
Her eyes looked up into his as she spoke with so deep a passion and emotion in her voice that her words seemed to vibrate on the air between them.
Then they were both very still.
Slowly, almost like the dawn coming up the sky, the colour rose in Wivina’s cheeks as Lord Cheriton lifted her hand and raised it to his lips.
“Thank you, Wivina.”
Again he felt her fingers trembling in his, and he knew that something had happened between them, something strange, but for the moment he was afraid to explain even to himself what it was.
As if she felt the same, Wivina turned and walked from the terrace back into the salon.
She lit the candles one by one and Lord Cheriton sitting down in a chair watched her.
He was thinking as he did so how little he knew about young women, yet even so he was certain that Wivina was different from her contemporaries.
It was not only her beauty and her grace and he had a feeling that while she might be young in years, she was old in many other ways.
She had suffered the loss of her father and mother, she had tried to look after her brother, and she had endured a
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