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Authors: Barbara Cartland
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pale, translucent skin.
The candlelight seemed to pick out the gold in her hair, but it was very unlike the brilliance of Hettie’s and was instead the colour of dawn when it first appears in the East.
As if his scrutiny reached through her dreams and awakened her, Pandora opened her eyes.
For a moment she looked at him drowsily as if she was not certain who he was, then she gave a little exclamation and sat up.
“I fell asleep without blowing out – the candles,” she said in a horrified voice. “It is something Mama was always insistent I should not do in case I set the house on fire. Oh, I am – sorry!”
Her voice was so self-accusing that the Earl smiled.
“You were tired,” he said. “There is nothing more exhausting than being worried and perhaps afraid.”
“I am ashamed that I should have been afraid of Prosper Witheridge.”
She was quite unselfconscious, the Earl thought, of the fact that he was in her bedroom, and, for although he was her cousin, he was still a man.
She was wearing a lawn nightgown which fastened at the neck and had a little collar edged with lace and long sleeves with lace-edged frills that fell over her wrists.
She looked very young and very innocent, and after a moment the Earl said,
“I saw a light under your door and thought you must be still awake.”
Pandora looked down at her book.
“I took a book from the Library when I came upstairs. I was longing to read it again. It is one of my favourites.”
“What is it called?” the Earl enquired.
“Paradise R egained. Do you not think Milton describes very convincingly what he imagined?”
“It is a long time since I read Milton,” the Earl answered cautiously. “I think I remember Paradise Lost better.”
“I hate that book! It is so depressing, so frightening, in fact it is rather like listening to Prosper Witheridge!”
“It is unlikely that you will have to listen to him again.”
“He will denounce me to my uncle in an even more violent fashion than he spoke about me – downstairs.”
“Forget him for tonight, at any rate,” the Earl said. “And as you like Paradise Regained so much, let me make you a present of it.”
He saw the look of delight in Pandora’s eyes. Then, when she would have thanked him, she checked the words.
“It is kind of you, but it is a very valuable book and it belongs here in the collection.”
“What does that matter?” the Earl enquired. “I am sure you will appreciate it far more than I or my guests would.”
There was a sarcastic twist to his lips as he thought of Kitty lying unconscious.
He knew she could hardly write, and it was very doubtful if she could read anything more difficult than the figures on a bank-note.
“If the books are borrowed and not returned, or are given away,” Pandora said after a moment, “it would be depriving your son of his inheritance and of course your grandsons and their sons.”
“My son?” the Earl repeated in surprise.
“Grandpapa told me a long time ago, when I was a very little girl,” Pandora explained, “that the Earls of Chartwood do not really possess what is here in the house. They are only Guardians of all the wonderful treasures for those who come after them.”
She looked anxiously at the Earl before she added,
“Perhaps you thought it impertinent of me when I was upset at dinner because the plate was broken, but the service was given to one of our ancestors by Madame de Pompadour, who took a great interest in the Sevres factory.”
She looked at the Earl with a worried look in her eyes in case he should be angry. Then she said,
“Mama always said they were too good to be used except on very – very special – occasions.”
“Tonight was a very special occasion as far as I am concerned,” the Earl said.
Pandora had the feeling that he was speaking automatically, just to argue with her.
“You enjoyed yourself?” she asked, and she was not being sarcastic.
“Very much!” he said
The candlelight seemed to pick out the gold in her hair, but it was very unlike the brilliance of Hettie’s and was instead the colour of dawn when it first appears in the East.
As if his scrutiny reached through her dreams and awakened her, Pandora opened her eyes.
For a moment she looked at him drowsily as if she was not certain who he was, then she gave a little exclamation and sat up.
“I fell asleep without blowing out – the candles,” she said in a horrified voice. “It is something Mama was always insistent I should not do in case I set the house on fire. Oh, I am – sorry!”
Her voice was so self-accusing that the Earl smiled.
“You were tired,” he said. “There is nothing more exhausting than being worried and perhaps afraid.”
“I am ashamed that I should have been afraid of Prosper Witheridge.”
She was quite unselfconscious, the Earl thought, of the fact that he was in her bedroom, and, for although he was her cousin, he was still a man.
She was wearing a lawn nightgown which fastened at the neck and had a little collar edged with lace and long sleeves with lace-edged frills that fell over her wrists.
She looked very young and very innocent, and after a moment the Earl said,
“I saw a light under your door and thought you must be still awake.”
Pandora looked down at her book.
“I took a book from the Library when I came upstairs. I was longing to read it again. It is one of my favourites.”
“What is it called?” the Earl enquired.
“Paradise R egained. Do you not think Milton describes very convincingly what he imagined?”
“It is a long time since I read Milton,” the Earl answered cautiously. “I think I remember Paradise Lost better.”
“I hate that book! It is so depressing, so frightening, in fact it is rather like listening to Prosper Witheridge!”
“It is unlikely that you will have to listen to him again.”
“He will denounce me to my uncle in an even more violent fashion than he spoke about me – downstairs.”
“Forget him for tonight, at any rate,” the Earl said. “And as you like Paradise Regained so much, let me make you a present of it.”
He saw the look of delight in Pandora’s eyes. Then, when she would have thanked him, she checked the words.
“It is kind of you, but it is a very valuable book and it belongs here in the collection.”
“What does that matter?” the Earl enquired. “I am sure you will appreciate it far more than I or my guests would.”
There was a sarcastic twist to his lips as he thought of Kitty lying unconscious.
He knew she could hardly write, and it was very doubtful if she could read anything more difficult than the figures on a bank-note.
“If the books are borrowed and not returned, or are given away,” Pandora said after a moment, “it would be depriving your son of his inheritance and of course your grandsons and their sons.”
“My son?” the Earl repeated in surprise.
“Grandpapa told me a long time ago, when I was a very little girl,” Pandora explained, “that the Earls of Chartwood do not really possess what is here in the house. They are only Guardians of all the wonderful treasures for those who come after them.”
She looked anxiously at the Earl before she added,
“Perhaps you thought it impertinent of me when I was upset at dinner because the plate was broken, but the service was given to one of our ancestors by Madame de Pompadour, who took a great interest in the Sevres factory.”
She looked at the Earl with a worried look in her eyes in case he should be angry. Then she said,
“Mama always said they were too good to be used except on very – very special – occasions.”
“Tonight was a very special occasion as far as I am concerned,” the Earl said.
Pandora had the feeling that he was speaking automatically, just to argue with her.
“You enjoyed yourself?” she asked, and she was not being sarcastic.
“Very much!” he said
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