The House of Happiness by Barbara Cartland

do not talk so,” Eugenia urged in a low voice.
    â€œI must give vent to my emotions,” wailed Mrs. Dovedale. “How is it that fortune is so regularly my foe?”
    The Marquis regarded her gravely. 
    â€œBelieve me, Mrs. Dovedale,” he said, “fortune might turn out to be less of a foe than you imagine. Now, please excuse me for such a brief visit. I must attend to other matters.”
    The first part of the Marquis’s words were so cryptic that, as the door closed behind him, Mrs. Dovedale and Eugenia were left quite bewildered.
    The following morning, as Eugenia took breakfast in her room, a command came from the Marquis. She was to join him for a ride at ten o’clock.
    She resented the peremptory tone of the command. At the same time, she was intrigued, for it was a tone the Marquis had never used with her before. However she felt, it would undoubtedly contravene good manners to refuse.
    So at ten o’clock she presented herself to the Marquis. Two horses were brought to the front of the Abbey.  A footman helped her mount and then they were off. 
    The Marquis seemed grimly bent on making progress rather than simply taking a ride. He led the way down the two miles of gardens towards the river and the woods.
    As he guided his horse towards the wooden bridge, Eugenia suddenly felt her heart skip a beat. Surely he was not going to make her revisit the ruins of ‘ Paragon ’? What cruel trick was this?
    â€œM-my lord,” she called but her words were tossed to the air like seedlings, so strong was the breeze.
    Deep in the woods, however, the breeze lost its force. Only the treetops swayed and pitched. Down below all was quiet.
    â€œMy Lord, I should like to turn back,” she pleaded but the Marquis forged on.
    At last the trees ended. The Marquis halted and, behind him, Eugenia.
    What she saw before her made her gasp. In one instant she understood all.
    There stood ‘ Paragon ’ but it was no longer a ruin. The thatch was mended, the walls rebuilt. Glass gleamed in the window embrasures, the shutters and front door were painted a cornflower blue. The cottage had been reborn and it was surely all down to the hand of the Marquis.
    Overcome with conflicting emotions, Eugenia burst into tears.

CHAPTER SIX
    The Marquis did not dismount. He made no move at all to console Eugenia but waited in respectful silence for her sobs to cease.
    All around the clearing, treetops rustled and swayed. A deer started out from the undergrowth, then froze – with eyes as black as mere water, it stood for a moment staring at the two riders before bolting fearfully back into the woods.
    Still Eugenia wept. Added to the shock of seeing ‘ Paragon ’ restored to its former modest glory was a sense of deep foreboding. The future was being spun so cunningly about her that she could barely parry its threads.
    The Marquis’s horse shifted, stepped a few paces back before lowering its head to crop at the grass. The Marquis let the reins trail.
    â€œIt seems the restoration of ‘ Paragon ’ does not please Miss Dovedale,” he asserted quietly.
    Eugenia pressed the back of her hands to her wet cheeks.
    â€œPardon me, my Lord. It – it does please me. Only I – ”
    She could not continue. The Marquis regarded her quizically.
    â€œOnly I cannot help but ask myself why ?” she finished.
    The Marquis hesitated before his reply.  “I had hoped that was a question you would not ask, Miss Dovedale. I – rather fear the effect of my answer upon your present sensibilities.”
    â€œThen by all means, let the subject alone,” said Eugenia quickly.  She did indeed fear an answer that might amount to a declaration of intent with regard to herself.
    Then, realising that her response had been somewhat churlish, she stumbled on. “I would like to think that you perhaps undertook the task as a – as a tribute to my