The House of Happiness by Barbara Cartland Page A

father.”
    The Marquis pondered this. “If it pleases you, Miss Dovedale, you may indeed consider it as a kind of tribute,” he said at last.
    â€œIt does please me,” Eugenia replied simply.
    The Marquis nodded gravely, then made a gesture in the direction of the cottage garden. “Now – I wonder if you have noticed the creature grazing by the fence?”
    Eugenia turned her head and gave a cry. 
    â€œCan it be – is that my pony – Bud?”
    â€œSomewhat stiff of gait, but, yes, it is he.”
    Eugenia could not believe her eyes. “B-but how did you find him?”
    â€œIt was not difficult. When your mother left, she offered him to my housekeeper’s nephew.  So Bud remained near the estate.”
    Eugenia slipped from the saddle and ran across to the old pony.  She could not be sure that after all this time he would recognise her, but when she threw her arms about his neck, he nuzzled her cheek with great affection.  Delighted as she was to see her old friend, part of her was uncomfortably aware that his appearance at least could not be explained away as a tribute to her late father.  
    â€œI suppose – I suppose my cat is lost?” Eugenia asked without turning her head.
    â€œAlas, yes,” came the reply.  “He became a famous mouser and died fat and wealthy.”  
    Through what remained of her tears and despite her general misgivings, Eugenia could not help but smile. Encouraged at last, the Marquis invited her to inspect the interior of the cottage.
    Giving Bud one last pat, Eugenia followed the Marquis through the front door.
    The interior too had been restored. Ceilings and walls were painted ivory, floor boards polished so that they gleamed like honeycomb. Not only that, the rooms were all agreeably furnished.
    In the drawing room, curtains hung at the window and a fire was laid in the grate.
    â€œWhy, it is ready for occupancy,” marvelled Eugenia, her eyes darting into every corner.
    â€œIndeed it is,” said the Marquis.
    â€œYou have found tenants?”  There was a tremor in Eugenia’s voice as she asked this question, for now that ‘ Paragon ’ looked every inch the home she remembered, she was not sure she relished the idea of strangers living there.
    â€œYes, I have prospective tenants in mind, if they will accept it,” said the Marquis mysteriously. 
    â€œIf?” Eugenia looked surprised. “Why, who might they be, that they should for one moment consider not accepting it? It must be the prettiest cottage on the estate!”
    The Marquis regarded her musingly.  “I have earmarked the cottage for a mother and daughter whom I know.  The mother I am sure will be happy to live here. It is the daughter whose enthusiasm I doubt.”
    Eugenia gazed at him wonderingly for a moment before she understood.
    â€œYou – you mean myself?” she breathed.  “And my mother?”
    â€œI do indeed,” replied the Marquis.
    â€œBut – but we could never afford the rent, my Lord. We live with Great-Aunt Cloris and – help her in the house in return for our lodgings.”
    â€œRent!” frowned the Marquis. “I am not seeking rent. The cottage is yours and your mother’s, Miss Dovedale.  I had once intended to pass the freehold over to your father. Now I am passing it over to you. The reason for my most recent visit to London was to sign over the freehold. This – is now yours.”
    With that, the Marquis held out his hand, to reveal in his palm a small yellow key.
    Eugenia took the key from him as if it was a gold bar. She held it in trembling fingers, looking from the Marquis to the room around her and back.
    â€œMine?” she repeated. ‘ Paragon ’ is mine?”
    â€œYours,” said the Marquis firmly.  “And you may move in this very afternoon, if you so wish.”
    Eugenia felt giddy at the