Lights, Laughter and a Lady. Barbara Cartland

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      “You could have said the same thing in a much more pleasant manner.”

      She had looked at her father in surprise and he had added,

      “I want you to be perfect, my darling, just as your mother is, so that one day some lucky man will thank me for all the trouble I have taken over you.”

      “You mean the man I shall marry?”

      “Of course,” he had replied. “Who else? And make no mistake, whoever is your husband will have gained himself a sublime prize!”

      “Suppose I fall in love with somebody who does not fall in love with me?”

      “I think it unlikely and, if I find any young whippersnapper trifling with your affections, I will knock his head off!”

      Her father had spoken fiercely and Minella had thought it thrilling to have a father who cared so much for her and was ready to fight like a Medieval Knight in her defence.

      Now, she thought, her father was no longer here and she would have to look after herself.

      As the train drew nearer and nearer to London, she began to think that she had made a mistake.

      London was very large and frightening, and from the train she could see row upon row of houses stretching away into what seemed infinity.

      ‘I should have gone to Aunt Esther’s,’ she told herself.

      Then logically she reasoned that if things did not work out in London as she hoped they would, there was always Aunt Esther waiting for her.

      She had written a very tactful letter thanking Lady Banton for her kind invitation and saying that she had not yet made up her mind exactly what she would do but intended staying with friends for a few weeks.

      She had known that her aunt would be curious, but, as she had given no address, there would be nothing she could do about it.

      ‘If Connie will not help me,’ Minella told herself, ‘then I must go and find some cheap respectable lodging house while I look around.’

      She was sure that Connie would be able to recommend one and, if not, she thought the most sensible thing to do would be to go to the nearest Vicarage and ask the Vicar for help.

      That was the sort of thing that one did in the country and, although it might be different in London, there would be Churches and if there were Churches there would be Vicarages and it therefore followed that there would be a Vicar and who else should one turn to in time of trouble?

      ‘I shall be all right,’ Minella assured herself.

      Equally there was an uncomfortable fluttering feeling inside her breast that told her that she was very nervous.

      The noise and confusion at the Station was an ordeal in itself, but an elderly porter took pity on her and asked if he could help her.

      “I have two trunks in the van,” she said. “My name is Clinton-Wood.”

      “I’ll get them for you, miss,” he said. “Now stand ’ere where I can find you again and don’t take no notice of anybody as speaks to you.”

      He did not wait for her reply, but pushed his trolley towards the van and she thought it was a strange thing for him to say.

      Who was likely to speak to her, she wondered.

      Then she thought perhaps he was speaking of pickpockets who she had read about and so she held on tightly to the leather bag that had belonged to her mother.

      It did not contain a great deal of money. She was too sensible for that and had put into the Bank most of the one hundred pounds that Mr. Mercer had given to her.

      But she had to have enough to cover her expenses and she knew that every penny was of vital significance.

      She therefore held her bag with two hands and waited until the porter returned with her trunks on his trolley.

      “There you are, miss,” he said. “Now, what do you want to do?”

      Minella took out the piece of paper from her handbag, which she had written Connie’s address down on.

      “I wish to go there, please. Is it far?”

      The porter read the address carefully.

      “It’ll cost you a shillin’,” he said, “and you give the man twopence for hisself.”

      “Thank you for telling me,” Minella replied. “I am afraid of making mistakes, as I have never been to London before.”

      “That be just what I thought, you looks lost and frightened. Why didn’t you stay in the country where you belongs?”

      “I have to find work.”

      The porter was silent for a moment as he pushed his way through the crowds.

      Then he asked her,

      “’Ave you got someone to ’elp you?”

      “I-I hope so.”

      “Well, you’d better be careful,” he said. “I’ve got a daughter your age and I’m always a-worryin’ about her. London ain’t the right place for young pretty girls and that’s a fact!”

      “But we have to eat!” Minella said. “And in my case that means I have to work.”

      “Well, just you be extra careful of what you gets up to,” the porter went on, “and don’t do anythin’ your father wouldn’t approve of.”

      “No, of course not,” Minella agreed.

      He then found her an old rather dilapidated-looking Hackney carriage with a horse that seemed too tired to pull anything.

      “This’ll be cheaper than one of them smarter ones,” he said as he heaved her trunks up beside the driver.

      When he opened the door for Minella to climb in, she asked,

      “Please, will you tell me what I should give you? I don’t want to make a mistake.”

      “That’s all right,” the porter replied. “If you didn’t ask me, I’d ’ave expected thrupence for what I’ve done for you, but as it is, you keep it. You’re gonna need it yerself. Money soon goes in this ’ere place!”

      “You are very kind,” Minella said. “Thank you very much for all you have done for me.”

      She held out her hand and the porter shook it.

      Then he said,

      “Remember what I tells you and be a good girl!”

      “Yes, of course,” Minella answered.

      As the cabbie drove off, she waved at him and thought how kind he was.

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