103. She Wanted Love by Barbara Cartland Page B

the tapestries themselves were varied, but they all had pictures woven into them.
    She made up a story for the first one and Pepe for the second and the way she spoke told Eleta that she was not only intelligent but imaginative.
    It was a pity that she had not been encouraged to use both in the past rather than try to force her to learn the humdrum lessons considered necessary for all children.
    When they had finished tea, Eleta proposed,
    “As we have done a lot already, I think it would be a mistake to visit the picture gallery today, because there are so many stories there for us to tell each other later on.”
    She thought that the child agreed and she added,
    “I would like you to take me to the music room. I am sure you have one here in this lovely house.”
    “We have a very big music room,” Pepe said. “But the Governesses I have had could not play the piano and the teacher who came from the village gave up after I had only had three lessons.”
    “Why did she do that?” Eleta asked.
    “Because I would not play the way she wanted me to,” Pepe replied.
    “I can show you how I would like you to play.”
    They walked a long way down a corridor and the music room was at the far end of it.
    It was not only hung with fascinating pictures, but there were many plants coming into flower placed round the platform where there was a grand piano.
    Eleta thought it was one of the finest she had seen anywhere.
    She had forgotten for a moment that Pepe was with her, as she sat at the piano and played a piece that had been written by a Master not only of music but of romance.
    Pepe listened spellbound and Eleta said,
    “This is the most perfect piano to play on. And, of course, you must learn some lovely music. Sit down now and try it for yourself.”
    Pepe did so without argument.
    She picked out the notes in some instinctive way and they all seemed to follow each other almost as if they were a real tune.
    “I know one thing about you, if nothing else, Pepe.”
    “What is that?” she asked.
    “One day you are going to be a real musician and the piano will inspire you. You will be writing tunes you hear in your mind that will be published.”
    “I hear tunes in my mind sometimes when I am in bed, but I could not play them on a piano.”
    “It is something you will do, Pepe, but you will have to do some practising first and I will play for you to show you how to do it.”
    “Please play for me again.”
    Eleta was only too willing and she played one tune after another until she realised that it was getting late and it was time for the child to have supper and go to bed.
    “Now don’t say a word,” she said. “I am going to talk to Mrs. Shepherd and see if we can be moved down to prettier bedrooms and more comfortable ones.”
    Pepe looked excited.
    “I am sure one of them,” Eleta went on, “and there must be a great many in the house, must have a boudoir attached, which is far nicer than this rather dull nursery.”
    “That will be lovely. I want to be downstairs. I hate being up here in this old nursery. But they said this was to be my schoolroom.”
    “So we will just have to find something different,” Eleta replied. “I think we would be wise if we talked first to Mr. Clarke.”
    “I like him,” Pepe said unexpectedly. “He is a nice man and, when I told him once I had thrown a book out of the window, he laughed and said if it was very dull he would have wanted to do that himself at my age!”
    Eleta laughed.
    “Then I think he is just the person we want at the moment. Come along, we will go and see him before you have supper.”
    They walked to the office where Eleta had been that morning and Mr. Clarke was rather startled to see them.
    When they told him that they had to talk to him, he sat down and was prepared to listen attentively.
    “Now what we have decided,” Eleta began, “is that Lady Priscilla is too old to be up in the nursery.”
    Mr. Clarke looked surprised and she