“What you want,” Vanessa said aloud to Samson, “is a good evening meal which you shall have whatever it costs and a drink of pure water.”
Samson pricked up his ears as she was speaking.
Then she passed through another field, which was, she thought, quite narrow.
At the far end of it there was another wood.
Beyond that would be the village and she hoped somewhere comfortable for the night.
The gate was open and she rode from the field she was in towards the next gate.
It was then she saw that the wood was narrower than she had expected and she could see trees just ahead of her.
Seated underneath the trees with their horses not too far away from them were a number of men.
She thought that they must be working in the field.
Then, as Samson carried her rapidly towards them, she suddenly became aware with a shock that they were highwaymen!
BARBARA CARTLAND
www.barbaracartland.com
Copyright © 2016 by Cartland Promotions
First published on the internet in November 2015 by Barbaracartland.com
ISBNs
Print 978-1-78213-756-6
eBook 978-1-78213-793-1
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval, without the prior permission in writing from the publisher.
eBook conversion by M-Y Books
Barbara Cartland was the most prolific bestselling author in the history of the world. She was frequently in the Guinness Book of Records for writing more books in a year than any other living author. In fact her most amazing literary feat was when her publishers asked for more Barbara Cartland romances, she doubled her output from 10 books a year to over 20 books a year, when she was 77.
She went on writing continuously at this rate for 20 years and wrote her last book at the age of 97, thus completing 400 books between the ages of 77 and 97.
Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.
Now the exciting news is that these 160 original unpublished Barbara Cartland books are ready for publication and they will be published by Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the web is the best possible way to reach so many Barbara Cartland readers around the world.
The 160 books will be published monthly and will be numbered in sequence.
The series is called the Pink Collection as a tribute to Barbara Cartland whose favourite colour was pink and it became very much her trademark over the years.
The Barbara Cartland Pink Collection is published only on the internet. Log on to www.barbaracartland.com to find out how you can purchase the books monthly as they are published, and take out a subscription that will ensure that all subsequent editions are delivered to you by mail order to your home.
If you do not have access to a computer you can write for information about the Pink Collection to the following address :
BarbaraCartland.com
Camfield Place
Hatfield
Hertfordshire
AL9 6JE
United Kingdom
Telephone: +44 1707 642629
Fax: +44 1707 663041
These titles are currently available for download. For more information please see the Where to buy page at the end of this book.
The Barbara Cartland Pink collection is available for download at the following online bookshops :-
www.barnesandnoble.com - epub format for the Nook eReader
www.whsmith.co.uk - epub format for the Smiths/Kobo eReader
www.firstyfish.com - epub format
ebookstore.sony.com - epub format for Sony eReaders
www.amazon.co.uk - For UK Kindle users
www.amazon.com - For international Kindle users
itunes.apple.com - for Apple iOS users
www.barbaracartland.com- Printed paperbacks
“There is a delightful Beatles’ song called ‘All you need is love’ and, if you think about it, the Beatles are absolutely right!”
Barbara Cartland
Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most famous romantic novelists. With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.
Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller. Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. In addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA. In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.
Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of Romance’, Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery. Becoming one of Britain's most popular media personalities and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara spoke on radio and television about social and political issues, as well as making many public appearances.
In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work for humanitarian and charitable causes.
Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime. Best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and traditional values. But above all, it was Barbara Cartland’s overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her truly unique.
Lady Vanessa Shotworth rose slowly from her chair and walked out of the breakfast room with her head held high, but with a sinking feeling within her.
Once again her stepmother was screaming abuse at her and finding fault in a way that she found humiliating.
Yet there was nothing she could do about it.
She had risen early as it was a lovely sunny day and she had gone to the stables to take her favourite horse for a ride.
Because it was so delightful riding over the fields her father owned and which had belonged to the Shotworth family for five generations, she had forgotten the time.
It was only when she was beginning to feel hot and rather exhausted after galloping for so long did she turn for home.
The birds were singing in the trees and the flowers were brilliant in the garden.
She then walked from the stables where she had left Samson in the charge of the groom and stopped to look at the roses and forget-me-nots that were now fully in flower.
‘I am sure that Papa would be thrilled to see them, if he was at home,’ she mused.
She was wondering if the flowers in India were as beautiful as they were at his home.
It had been at the request of the General now in charge of his Regiment that he had gone to India for the special celebrations they were making over a battle when they had won a great victory at a time when the English had first taken over India.
As he had always loved his Regiment and had been particularly proud of it, the Earl of Shotworth had gone as requested.
He had told his wife and daughter that he would return home as soon as it was possible.
“I will miss you so much, Papa,” Vanessa had said.
He held his daughter close to him as he told her,
“I promise you I will return soon. But you know that the Regiment will plan all sorts of demonstrations for me and I always find it hard to quench their enthusiasm.”
“They love you, Papa,” Vanessa said. “But I love you too and the house is not the same when you are away.”
Her father knew without her putting it into words that she did not get on well with her stepmother.
He had hesitated for quite some years after his wife, Vanessa’s mother, had died, simply because he had tried to make his life complete as a widower.
As he was very good-looking, many women would have been willing to marry him for himself and not just his position.
But Cynthia Holman had been not only extremely beautiful but very persistent in her pursuit of him.
She too had been married for a short time. She was a soldier’s wife and her husband had been killed in a very small battle, where strangely no one else in the Regiment was even wounded.
The Earl had been Commanding Officer at the time and he had thought it his duty to comfort the wife of a man who had not only been under his command but he was a friend.
Having made up her mind that she would marry again and make it a far more prestigious marriage than she had made previously, Cynthia was always at the Earl’s side when he least expected it.
She was certainly very lovely in her own way.
And because he too was so lonely without his wife, the Earl found that he was putting a Wedding ring on her finger almost before he had time to think of what his life might be like in the future.
He had already come to appreciate it that he was too old to continue to command the Regiment.
He thought when he retired to his big house in the country that he would undoubtedly be lonely despite the fact that his daughter, Vanessa, was at seventeen about to leave Boarding School and come home to him.
After her beloved mother had died there had been various members of the family she spent the holidays with when her father was with his Regiment.
Although she missed her mother, she longed more than she had ever longed for anything else to be alone with her father at their home in Worcestershire.
It was therefore a shock to her when she learnt that, before he had left India, he had married again and was bringing his new wife home with him.
All her dreams of riding the horses alone with him had been dashed.
And of making him tell her tales of India in the evenings after dinner.
And of increasing the magnificent library which she thought should be brought more up to date.
And above all to have her father loving her as he had done whenever he was on leave from his Regiment and they were together.
‘I love him and I know that he loves me and now Mama is dead, I must look after him and make him happy,’ she had told herself.
But, when she met her stepmother, she realised that Cynthia clearly had every intention of being not only the most important woman in her husband’s life, but she was equally determined to make sure that there was no other around and that included his daughter.
In fact almost from the moment she had arrived at Shotworth Hall, she had done everything to separate the Earl from his daughter.
She absolutely made sure that he concentrated only on her.
What was so infuriating, the new Countess thought to herself, was that her stepdaughter was most undoubtedly a beauty.
That would have been bad enough, but, because it was the complete opposite to her beauty, she hated every golden hair on Vanessa’s head and every glint in the blue of her eyes.
Now that the Earl was away in India, the Countess had taken every opportunity of making herself even more unpleasant than she had been previously.
She found fault with everything that Vanessa did.
She criticised her behaviour, the way she spoke and what she said and above all her appearance.
“I suppose you think that you look attractive in that dress,” she had said last night when Vanessa came down to dinner. “But personally I think it’s in extremely bad taste for a girl of your age and you must have been more stupid than you usually are in buying it.”
“Actually it was given to me,” Vanessa replied, “by my aunt and, when I wore it at a party she gave, everyone admired it.”
“Well, I think it’s vulgar and you look overdressed in it,” her stepmother snarled.
They sat down in the dining room in silence while the butler and two footmen began to serve the meal.
The Countess had hardly spoken while the servants were present and Vanessa, looking at the empty chair at the head of the table wished, as she had wished a thousand times already, that her father would come back from India.
As she had now entered the house by a side door, she was suddenly aware that, as breakfast was always at nine o’clock, she was late.
Undoubtedly her stepmother would be pleased that it was an excuse for her to be even more disagreeable than usual.
She gave a sigh as she walked along the passage to the breakfast room recognising that her only excuse in not being back before was because she was enjoying her ride so much and it had been an exceptionally fine morning.
She was not mistaken in thinking that, as she was so late, her stepmother would be angry.
The Countess was in the process of pushing aside her plate and rising from the table as Vanessa entered.
“I am so sorry – to be late, Stepmama,” she said as she walked into the room. “I forgot the time because it was such a lovely day and the sun was shining so warmly. In point of fact, I could not help thinking that Papa would have enjoyed every moment – if he had been with me.”
“But he is not here,” her stepmother said sharply. “I have told you a thousand times, if I have told you once, that you are to be on time for meals! It is extremely rude to someone like myself and unfair on the servants.”
“As I have told you – I am very sorry,” Vanessa stammered. “I completely forgot the time and I apologise.”
“That is what you have said over and over again. I find it difficult to make you obey even the ordinary rules of a well-run house,” her stepmother snapped.
She glared at Vanessa before she went on,
“In fact, as a punishment and perhaps in future it will force you to think more clearly, you are to scrub the kitchen floor this morning. I have already sent a message to the cook to tell her that the scullery maid is not to clean it as she usually does and it is to remain dirty until you do her work as a punishment.”
Vanessa stared at her.
“Are you serious in what – you are saying to me?” she asked.
“Very serious, indeed! I have spoken to you again and again about being on time. Perhaps, when you have scrubbed the kitchen floor, you will then find it easier to remember that I run this house and all my orders must be obeyed.”
Vanessa stared at her.
“I cannot believe – you mean it,” she said. “How could you expect the servants not to laugh when they see me crawling about on the floor and – I will doubtless not clean it half as well as the scullion who does it every day?”
“You will do as I tell you,” her stepmother raged. “You will not have your breakfast or any other food until you have obeyed my orders.”
Vanessa, who had reached the table while she was speaking but had not yet sat down, stood and stared at her.
“Are you seriously saying,” she asked, “that I am to go hungry – because I am a few minutes late?”
“You will indeed go hungry until you have finished the kitchen and if it is not finished in time for the next meal you will miss it too, as you are now going to miss your breakfast.”
The Countess glared at Vanessa as she ranted on,
“You have been giving yourself airs and graces for a long time, but you have to learn that I am the Mistress here and, when your father is away, every order I give is to be obeyed and there is to be no argument about it.”
“And – if I refuse?” Vanessa questioned in a small voice, almost as if she was talking to herself.
There was silence and then her stepmother sneered,
“Surely you are not deaf as well as being stupid! You will have nothing to eat, and the servants have already been given that order, until the kitchen floor is cleaned.”
She paused before she added,
“If anyone dares to disobey me and feeds you, they will instantly be dismissed.”
As she spat out the last words, she walked out of the breakfast room and slammed the door behind her.
Vanessa stood staring at the table.
Then she turned to look at the sideboard where she saw that the silver dishes which always held the eggs and bacon for breakfast had been removed.
For a moment she could not really credit that what she had just heard was true.
That her stepmother had really given orders to the servants that she was not to be fed.
‘How can she behave so outrageously?’ she asked herself. ‘It’s very obvious that she hates me and resents any affection Papa shows for me. But surely this is going too far?’
At that moment she saw the door of the pantry open slightly.
She knew that Bates, the old butler, who had been at Shotworth Hall ever since her father had first married, was peeping in to see if she was alone.
When he was sure that the Countess was not there, he opened the door wider and came in.
Vanessa gazed forlornly at him.
And then she said in a soft voice just in case her stepmother was listening,
“What am I to do, Bates? What am I to do?”
Bates looked towards the closed door that led into the rest of the house and glanced over his shoulder before he replied,
“If you asks me, my Lady, you should go to stay with one of your relations until his Lordship returns.”
“I have thought of that already. But Aunt Alice is not at home, as she is staying with her daughter in Wales, and Cousin Cecily is ill and there are two nurses in the house. I am sure that I would not be welcome there.”
“That makes things a lot more difficult,” Bates said, scratching the side of his forehead.
“It makes things impossible. My other relations, as you well know, have never been particularly anxious to have me in the holidays when I was at school, so I would feel embarrassed at suggesting that I visit them now.”
Bates sighed.
“I’ll fetch you something to eat, my Lady, whatever her Ladyship may say.”
“No! No!” Vanessa exclaimed. “You must not do that. If you were told to leave because you had disobeyed her orders, it would be disastrous for The Hall. You know that Papa and Mama – have always relied on you.”
“That be true,” Bates agreed. “But I can’t have your Ladyship starving on my hands and cook feels the same.”
“Then what I must do is to run away,” Vanessa said in a whisper. “And I must be gone before my stepmother has the slightest idea – it’s what I intend to do.”
Bates nodded.
“That’s the sensible thing. But although I’ve been thinking, I can’t imagine where you could go where you’d be welcome.”
“It does seem strange, when Papa has done so much for the country – and so many admire him greatly, that I cannot think of anyone close to him who would welcome me,” Vanessa replied.
She smiled wistfully as she added,
“And I suppose it’s because Papa is so often being consulted by the War Office in London that he had little time for the friends around him even though they came to our ball at Christmas.”
“They most certainly did,” Bates agreed. “If you asks me, they wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
“Of course not, Bates. It was more because balls are few and far between rather than because they wanted to see Papa and Stepmama.”
Bates sighed again.
“It be different when your dear mother were alive. Then there were always people coming to the house, bringing her flowers, asking her advice and wanting her to hear their good news as well as the bad.”
“I remember that too,” Vanessa told him. “If only Mama was still with us, it would be very different.”
“Very different indeed, my Lady!” he exclaimed.
“Well, one thing is very obvious,” she said. “I am not wanted here and it will be impossible for me to return – until Papa comes back from India.”
“His Lordship will want you then, right enough,” Bates commented.
Vanessa smiled.
“Even though Stepmama hates me – as much as she does, I know that Papa will always love me. But it might be embarrassing if I went out to India to him.”
“Your Ladyship couldn’t go on that journey alone,” Bates said. “It be too far and you’d have to have someone to chaperone you and where could you find one?”