The House of Happiness by Barbara Cartland

afterwards, I will never, never forgive you!”
    Mrs. Dovedale hesitated. Her daughter’s expression was so resolute that she could not doubt that Eugenia had meant what she said.
    â€œN-no, dear,” she replied slowly.  “I have not sold the jewellery.”
    Mrs. Dovedale pondered all through breakfast. She remained in the parlour after Eugenia went up to dress. When Bridget came in to clear the table she asked the maid to bring her a pen and paper.  She wanted to write a letter and it was warmer in the parlour than in her bedroom.
    Bridget complied with Mrs. Dovedale’s request.  She wrote slowly, considering every word.  Then she sealed the letter and handed it to Bridget.
    â€œYou are to take this directly to the address you see on the envelope. I shall give you a shilling for a hansom cab. And,” she added, “you must on no account tell Miss Eugenia.”
    *
    Sunday seemed long and tedious to Eugenia. Her mother made no further reference to the ball or indeed to the question of money and she, for all her suspicions, was happy to avoid the subject for the moment.
    So eager was she to attend the ball now she knew that Gregor would be there that she did not wish to speculate too keenly on where money might have come from. As long as it was not from the sale of her mother’s jewellery!  Perhaps Great-Aunt Cloris had somehow been prevailed upon to pay for new gowns. No doubt the old lady would let her know soon enough.
    After returning from Church the weather became inclement, which meant there would be no walk that afternoon. Instead, Mrs. Dovedale asked Eugenia to come to her room to read to her.  Eugenia scanned the room for sight of the jewellery box and was relieved to see that it sat undisturbed in its usual place. When her mother seemed asleep, Eugenia tiptoed over to the box and, lifting it, gave it a little shake. It was locked so she could not be sure, but it seemed full. Satisfied, she set it down again.
    Her mother stifled a smile in her pillow, thankful that she had thought to fill the box with loose buttons and bobbins of cotton.
    All she required now was a positive response to the letter she had written earlier that day –
    Reassured that her mother had indeed not sold her jewellery, Eugenia felt free to daydream again of the ball and the dances she would share with Gregor Brodosky.
    The following morning she put a tortoiseshell comb in her hair.  Every few minutes she ran to the mirror to pinch her cheeks. She must keep them looking rosy for Gregor.
    At ten o’clock she heard a carriage draw up outside. Her heart quickened. Perhaps Gregor had decided not to walk to the house this morning. It was still raining, after all.
    The doorbell sounded. She waited, heart pounding, but nobody ascended the stairs. Puzzled, she opened the door and walked out on to the landing.
    The Marquis and her mother stood in the hallway below, talking in low voices. As Eugenia watched the Marquis drew a large packet from his overcoat.  He handed it to Mrs. Dovedale. She appeared to thank him and then ushered him into the drawing room.
    Eugenia frowned. What was the Marquis doing here, so early in the day? She hoped she was not going to be summoned to take tea with him. She might miss the arrival of Gregor.
    At ten thirty the bell sounded again. This time it must be Gregor! She heard voices, louder than before and stepped out onto the landing. The Marquis was on the point of leaving and had stopped to exchange greetings with Gregor. Drawing on his gloves as he spoke, he glanced up over Gregor’s head and saw Eugenia gazing down. 
    She flushed under his stare and drew back. The Marquis departed. Gregor waved Bridget away – she was preparing to escort him to Great-Aunt Cloris’s room – and bounded up the stairs, two steps at a time. Eugenia stepped out again from the shadows.
    â€œHa! Little flower,” he said.
    â€œGregor – ” Eugenia