An Introduction to the Pink Collection. Barbara Cartland

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      Copyright © 2004 by Cartland Promotions

      First published on the internet in 2004 by Barbaracartland.com

       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.

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      CHAPTER ONE

       -

       1864

      Crows wheeled and circled in the bleak winter sky, while the mourners huddled over the grave beneath. The chill in the air was not more bitter than the chill in their hearts.

      What will we do without him? How will we manage?

      The man they were laying in the earth had been their vicar and, in some ways, their father. In their tiny, remote village of Fardale, there was nobody else to care for them, and they remembered now that the Reverend Colwell had exhorted them, praised them, chastised, defended and loved them.

      Now he was gone, struck down by a chill he’d contracted visiting a sick parishioner on a snowy night.

      For a while he’d seemed to rally, then failed again, finally sinking into pneumonia, and fading gently away.

      They all felt his loss, but none more so than the pale, distraught girl who kept her eyes fixed on the open grave, and closed her eyes as the first clods of earth hit it. She was Rena Colwell, the dead man’s daughter.

      Beside her, a much younger girl, wearing a shawl over her head, slipped her hand into Rena’s, offering and giving comfort. She had the work roughened hands of a maid of all work.

      “Let’s get going, miss,” she urged.

      “Just a few more minutes, Ellie. I want to talk to the curate who read the service. Why don’t you go on to the vicarage, put the kettle on and make a few sandwiches? He’ll probably want to join us for tea before he leaves.”

      But when she approached the haughty young man, who’d travelled over from a distant parish to read the service, he made no bones about his eagerness to depart. He preferred the city and was clearly appalled by this backwater village.

      “Have you heard anything about who may be coming to take Papa’s place?” Rena asked.

      “Well, it’s hardly the best situation, but there are always plenty of hacks who’ve lost hope of anything better.”

      She stiffened at the implied slur on her father, but he blundered on, oblivious.

      “So I should think somebody will turn up any day now. It’s a pity there’s nobody living in that huge house I passed on my way here. A great man always lends tone to a place, besides bringing employment.”

      “The last Earl of Lansdale died ten years ago,” Rena said. “Nobody seems to know who the next one is, or if there’s anyone at all. The family may have died out. The Grange has stood empty since then.”

      “Then it’s a bad business. Well, I must be going. I’ve got dinner waiting for me at my hotel.”

      Rena trudged home alone through the twilight, her heart heavy. In the kitchen she found Ellie, the only servant the vicar had been able to afford, ready with tea.

      The two young women sat together companionably in the kitchen, drinking tea in the fading light.

      “He was never the same after your Mama died,” Ellie said.

      “That’s true,” Rena sighed. “It’s strange to think that a year ago today she was still alive. And then she collapsed and died, and something went out of him. He was always very sweet and gentle to me, but I can’t help feeling he’s happier now.”

      “What are you going to do, miss?”

      Rena gave a wry smile. “I don’t know. That curate made sure to remind me that I shall have to move out of here soon. I’m glad, of course. The village needs a parson. But I don’t know where I’ll go.”

      “You could be a teacher, miss. You know ever so much.”

      “Well, I read a lot, but I’m afraid I don’t know enough to be a teacher or a governess. I could care for children, but nobody around here is rich enough to hire me. In fact the only thing I’m any good at is keeping house.”

      Ellie gave a little scream.

      “You can’t be a housekeeper miss. What would your Mama have said?”

      “Mama wouldn’t have approved,” Rena agreed. “Her family were ‘gentry’ who thought themselves above a marriage with the clergy. They were very shocked when she fell in love with Papa.

      “But I must earn my living somehow, and I’d be glad to hear of any honest employment before I have to leave here.”

      She gave Ellie a rueful smile. “I’m afraid I can’t afford to keep you on – “

      “That’s all right miss. Mum’ll be glad to have me home now our Gladys has married. Besides, it’s time I reminded Bert I was alive.”

      “Bert?”

      “The butcher’s boy, miss. He’ll do very nicely for me.”

      Ellie departed next morning in search of whatever success she might have ensnaring Bert. Rena was left alone in a draughty, echoing house, knowing that soon she would be homeless.

      Reared on the virtues of thrift and industry she immediately set about searching for a situation. Although she’d told Ellie she wasn’t qualified to be a teacher she tried to obtain a teaching post. She would try anything that was honest. But it was January, and no school was hiring teachers.

      She placed her name on the books of a couple of agencies. One summoned her to an interview in a town so distant СКАЧАТЬ