“We must put our heads together,” he said, ‘and plan something equal to Mr. Franklyn Wakefield’s entertainment. “

( was a little ashamed of that New Year’s party. Stirling had sent for a firm of London caterers to come down and manage the whole thing. He scattered invitations throughout the place. Special plate was brought down; expert chefs came to do the cooking; and he even decided that we should have footmen in blue velvet livery wearing powdered wigs.

I laughed aloud.

“It’s ridiculous,” I said, ‘for a small country house like this—and appalling bad taste. “

“I wish we could have it in Whiteladies,” he said wistfully.

“Imagine that hall …”

“This is not Whiteladies, and what are these people going to think when they see your hired flunkeys.”

But I could not dissuade him.

Mrs. Glee was inclined to be indignant.

“I could have managed very well, Mrs. Herrick, with an extra maid or two and [ would have known where to get them,” she scolded reproachfully.

“I hope Mr. Herrick is not dissatisfied with my cooking.”

I assured her that this was not the case and that Mr. Herrick had acted without consulting me. I should have planned a very different sort of party—with Mrs. Glee’s help, of course.

She was mollified and when she saw the decorated dining-and drawing-rooms and all the preparations, she began to take an immense pride in them. We were going to outshine Whiteladies and that meant something to her. She became quite excited, especially as she would take an authoritative part in the proceedings.

I don’t know whether I could call that evening a success. At least it was memorable. Fancy lamp-posts had been fixed outside the house and red carpet laid down on the steps of the portico. Stirling had hired a band which was set up in a little room between the dining-and drawing-rooms and the players wore red breeches with white Hungarian blouses. The table decorations were a masterpiece of roses which were very expensive at that time of the year. The guests were duly impressed and faintly embarrassed in the midst of such grandeur; consequently it was not such a merry party as we had had at Wakefield Park. Stirling had arranged for a pianist to entertain us ana afterwards we danced in the drawing-room which had been made ready for this purpose. It was not a ballroom such as they had at Wakefield Park, but it was when the dancing started that the party became enjoyable. We danced folk dances which Maud led because she ran a class for them, and then everyone became more natural. At a quarter to twelve we sat down waiting for midnight to strike; and when it did we joined hands and sang “Auld Lang Sync*. I had Franklyn on one side of me, Minta on the other; and I felt happy because I knew them.

When the last of the guests had gone Stirling and I sat down in the drawing-room and talked about the evening.

“You have made your point admirably,” I told him.

“Your friends and neighbours will no longer doubt that they have a millionaire in their midst.”

“It’s rather a pleasant thing to be.”

“When it gets you what you want; but do remember money won’t buy everything.”

“Name a few things it won’t.”

Those things which are not for sale. “

“You’ll see. I’ve made up my mind I’m going along to have a talk with Sir Hilary.”

“When?”

“In a few days’ time.”

“So you’re waiting a few days! Tactful of you but I marvel at your sloth. Why not go along tomorrow and say:

“Sir Hilary, I’ve made it clear to you that I am a millionaire, an ostentatious fellow who likes to stress the point. I’m ready to pay what you ask.” “You’ve changed, Nora. Sometimes I wonder whether you’re on my side.”

“I’m always on your side,” I said.

He smiled, understanding. That was love between us, unshakeable, inevitable. I could criticize him; he could mock me; it didn’t matter.

We were meant for each other and it would always be like that. True, I married Lynx; but then Lynx had decided that. And I was so close to Stirling that I shared his adoration of the strange man who had been his father. Stirling had had no choice but to stand aside for Lynx; and I had no choice but to stand aside for Whiteladies . which after all was for Lynx. But we were one-Stirling and I. After a year of widowhood I would become his wife.

As he smiled at me that night I was as certain of this as [ had been during that time in the cave when we had lain close together while a forest fire raged over our heads and we thought never to come out alive. There was the same understanding between us now.

By the end of January Stirling’s patience gave out and he went to see Sir Hilary. I was in the library when he came in, his face white, his lips tight and a look of blank despair in his eyes.

“What’s happened?” I cried.

“I’ve just come from Whiteladies.”

“Is something terribly wrong there?”

He nodded.

“I’ve made an offer to Sir Hilary.”

“And he refused. Is that all? I could have told you it would happen.”

He sat down heavily and stared at the tip of his boot.

“He says he can’t sell … ever. No matter what offer he had, he couldn’t.

“I’m saddled with the house and so is the family,” he said. Those were his words. Saddled with it! There’s some clause that won’t allow them to sell. It was made by some ancestor who had a gambling son. The house remains in the family . whatever happens. “

I felt as though a burden had been lifted from my shoulders.

“That’s settled it. You’ve done all you can and there’s an end to the matter.”

“Yes,” he said, ‘it would seem so. “

“You tried. No one, not even Lynx, could have done more.”

“I didn’t expect this.”

“I know. But I told you there are some things which are not for sale.

Now you can put it out of your mind and start planning for the future.”

“You’re glad, I believe.”

“I think it’s wrong to try to take from people something which belongs to them.”

“He used to talk so much about it. He was determined that we should be there.”

“But he didn’t know of this clause, did he? And I never agreed with him. He could be wrong … sometimes. His firm intention was to be revenged and revenge is wrong. There is no happiness in it.”

He was silent and I knew he wasn’t listening to me. He was thinking of all his wasted efforts. I went to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“What shall we do now?”

I asked.

“Shall we go back to Australia?”

He didn’t answer, but he stood up and put his arms round me.

“Nora,” he said. He repeated my name and kissed me as he never had before. It was a lover’s kiss—and I was happy.

I thought we would talk freely after that because we had made a tacit admission of our feelings; but this was not the case. Stirling was more withdrawn than he had been before. He was silent—almost morose; he went out riding alone. Once I saw him coming back, his horse sweating.

“You’ve been overworking that poor animal,” I accused, hoping he would tell me what was on his mind.

I thought I knew. He loved me, but Lynx was between us. Lynx, his father, had been my husband; and that made a strange relationship between us.

It will pass, I assured myself. What Lynx would want more than anything would be for Stirling and me to marry. We were the two he had loved best in the world; he would want us to be together. We shall call our first son Charles after him. We will never forget him. So I was unprepared for what happened next. Stirling came in one late afternoon just at dusk. Ellen had brought in the lamps and drawn the curtains and I was alone in the drawing-room. There was a strange expression on his face as though he were sleepwalking.

“I’d better tell you right away,” he said.

“I’m engaged to be married.”

I could not believe I had heard him correctly.

“I’ve just asked Minta to marry me,” he went on. I heard my voice then, cold, terse, indifferent almost.

“Oh … I see.”

“You do see, don’t you?” he said almost imploringly.

“Of course. It’s the only way to buy Whiteladies.”

“It was the only way … in view of the fact that it can’t go out of the family.”

“Congratulations,” I said harshly.

I had to get out of the room or I should rage and storm at him. I should lay bare my hopes and longings. I couldn’t stay in that room trying to speak to him calmly. So I pushed past him to the door. I sped up to my room and locked myself in.

Then I lay on my bed and stared at the Mercer’s coat of arms on the ceiling and I wished that I were dead.

How I lived through the weeks which followed I am not sure. I had to look on at Minta’s bliss. How she loved him! I could understand that.

Once she had been contented enough at the prospect of marrying Franklyn Wakefield, no doubt; and then he had come—this strong, vital Stirling who, when he wanted something, would allow no obstacle to stand in his way. Poor Minta; Did she guess why he was marrying her?

Often I wanted to tell her. I had to keep a tight control on my tongue to prevent myself shouting at her; and all the time I could feel nothing but pity for her. Poor innocent little dupe! The victim of one strange man’s desire for revenge and of another’s tenacious need to fulfill a duty. Poor innocent Minta, who believed herself loved! She was not marrying for the sake of Whiteladies even though it would now be completely restored to its old perfection. It would be a cherished house. I could imagine Stirling’s thorough assessment of the necessary repairs. No expense spared. Here comes the golden millionaire.