100. A Rose In Jeopardy Read online

  A Rose in Jeopardy

  BARBARA CARTLAND

  www.barbaracartland.com

  Copyright © 2013 by Cartland Promotions

  First published on the internet in January 2013 by Barbaracartland.com

  ISBNs

  978-1-78213-329-2 Epub

  978-1-78213-330-8 Mobi

  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

  A ROSE IN JEOPARDY

  Rosella now felt utterly alone and yet she suddenly found herself whispering,

  “Help me, please, please. Help me!”

  She thought longingly of Aunt Beatrice. She had missed her terribly, but never so much as at this moment.

  And for the first time in a long while, she missed her Mama and her Papa, whom she had so few memories of, only their loving voices and the embrace of their arms.

  She clung onto herself desperately.

  If only there was someone in the world to hold her, to care for her and speak gentle kind words –

  Suddenly she felt that someone was watching her, and she looked up to see the portrait of the young man in the turban hanging on the wall above her.

  “Why are you smiling?” she asked him. “Look at me. I am in such despair!”

  Her tears welled up in her eyes once again, but then she realised that his smile was not mocking but bold and happy.

  His bright dark eyes seemed to be comforting and encouraging her.

  “I care for you – ” he was almost saying.

  THE BARBARA CARTLAND PINK COLLECTION

  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

  Titles in this series

  These titles are currently available for download. For more information please see the Where to buy page at the end of this book.

  The Cross Of Love

  Love In The Highlands

  Love Finds The Way

  The Castle Of Love

  Love Is Triumphant

  Stars In The Sky

  The Ship Of Love

  A Dangerous Disguise

  Love Became Theirs

  Love Drives In

  Sailing To Love

  The Star Of Love

  Music Is The Soul Of Love

  Love In The East

  Theirs To Eternity

  A Paradise On Earth

  Love Wins In Berlin

  In Search Of Love

  Love Rescues Rosanna

  A Heart In Heaven

  The House Of Happiness

  Royalty Defeated By Love

  The White Witch

  They Sought Love

  Love Is The Reason For Living

  They Found Their Way To Heaven

  Learning To Love

  Journey To Happiness

  A Kiss In The Desert

  The Heart Of Love

  The Richness Of Love

  For Ever And Ever

  An Unexpected Love

  Saved By An Angel

  Touching The Stars

  Seeking Love

  Journey To Love

  The Importance Of Love

  Love By The Lake

  A Dream Come True

  The King Without A Heart

  The Waters Of Love

  Danger To The Duke

  A Perfect Way To Heaven

  Follow Your Heart

  In Hiding

  Rivals For Love

  A Kiss From The Heart

  Lovers In London

  This Way To Heaven

  A Princess Prays

  Mine For Ever

  The Earl’s Revenge

  Love At The Tower

  Ruled By Love

  Love Came From Heaven

  Love And Apollo

  The Keys Of Love

  A Castle Of Dreams

  A Battle Of Brains

  A Change Of Hearts

  It Is Love

  The Triumph Of Love

  Wanted – A Royal Wife

  A Kiss Of Love

  To Heaven With Love

  Pray For Love

  The Marquis Is Trapped

  Hide And Seek For Love

  Hiding from Love

  A Teacher Of Love

  Money Or Love

  The Revelation Is Love

  The Tree Of Love

  The Magnificent Marquis

  The Castle

  The Gates of Paradise

  A Lucky Star

  A Heaven on Earth

  The Healing Hand

  A Virgin Bride

  The Trail to Love

  A Royal Love Match

  A Steeplechase for Love

  Love at Last

  Search for a Wife

  Secret Love

  A Miracle of Love

  Love and the Clans

  A Shooting Star

  The Winning Post is Love

  They Touched Heaven

  The Mountain of Love

  The Queen Wins

  Love and the Gods

  Joined by Love

  The Duke is Deceived

  A Prayer For Love

  Love Conquers War

  A Rose in Jeopardy

  A Call of Love

  THE LATE DAME 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 outs
tanding 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.

  “Flowers have always been an important part of my life. Their beauty and serenity are a constant inspiration and for me to look at the full bloom of a pure untouched rose is to glimpse a little piece of Heaven.”

  Barbara Cartland

  CHAPTER ONE

  1880

  Lady Rosella Ryland reached out her hand to gently touch the glorious pink rose hanging down from the trellis above her head.

  It was such a perfect shape with its cluster of curled petals, the most beautiful flower on the old rambling rose bush that had been there as long as she could remember.

  “Happy birthday Rosella,” she whispered sadly to herself, as she breathed in the divine scent of the rose in the warm summer air of the walled garden at New Hall.

  It was the first of June and she had just become seventeen years old.

  But there was no one to remember that this was a very special day, for her beloved Aunt Beatrice, who had brought her up, was dead and she had no other close family who might wish her a happy birthday or send her a present or even a card with their good wishes.

  “Your Ladyship.”

  There was a crunch of boots on the path behind Rosella. Thomas, the gardener’s boy was hurrying towards her with a shallow basket over his arm.

  Dear Thomas – he had remembered what day it was and he was bringing her a present.

  But as he came closer, she saw that the basket was empty except for a pair of secateurs.

  “I thought you might like – ” Thomas stammered, looking shyly at her from under the fair hair that hung over his forehead like a pony’s mane, “ – to cut some of the flowers, like you used to, my Lady.”

  Rosella could not help the tears that stung her eyes.

  It was not that Thomas had forgotten her birthday. After all, he was just the gardener’s boy! Why should he have remembered that today was such a special occasion for her?

  The staff at New Hall had been deeply shocked by her aunt’s sudden death and were most preoccupied with what might happen to them in the future, as Lord Carlton Brockley, Lady Beatrice’s brother, would be coming soon to take up residence and no one knew what kind of a man he might be to work for.

  Thomas would be no exception to that, of course. He might even fear that he would lose his job.

  No – it was not the fact that he had not wished Rosella ‘happy birthday’. It was the memory of so many happy times she had spent in the walled garden, gathering flowers to take to her aunt, that suddenly caused Rosella’s heart to ache.

  Every morning she used to cut some of the finest blooms of whichever flowers were in season and take them to her aunt, where she sat on the yellow silk sofa in the drawing room after breakfast with her constant companion, Pickle, the grey parrot, in his cage by her side.

  As Rosella stood there in the bright sunshine on her birthday, struggling to hold back her tears, she remembered another day, just one month before, when she had hurried back to The Hall through a shower of soft spring rain, her arms full of white lilac and huge crimson peonies.

  “Hello, hello! Good morning, my dear!” Pickle called out from his cage, as she entered the drawing room, ruffling his grey feathers and holding his head on one side to stare at her.

  “Why, why, it’s my darling Rosella!” Aunt Beatrice exclaimed. “What a wonderful choice. The scent of lilac reminds me that summer will soon be here and the white flowers will look so very pretty next to the red peonies. How clever you are.”

  That day Rosella’s aunt was in her usual place on the yellow sofa, but she was not sitting there. She had put her feet up and was lying back on the cushions as if she was very tired.

  But she was smiling and seemed so pleased with the flowers that Rosella thought nothing of it.

  The parlourmaid brought a big blue-and-white vase and scissors and Rosella began to arrange the flowers.

  “Just think,” Aunt Beatrice said dreamily. “in a few short weeks the garden will be full of roses again,”

  “Your favourite flower,” Rosella replied, trimming the stem of a lilac branch. “And mine, too, naturally.”

  “I should hope so!” her aunt smiled.

  It was a favourite little joke of theirs – for Rosella had been named after her Mama, whose first name was Ella and after her Papa’s favourite flower – the rose.

  “There are lots of buds already on the rose bushes,” Rosella said now. “There will be masses of flowers soon.”

  “Oh – I just cannot wait.” Then Aunt Beatrice gave a little sigh. “This garden here at New Hall, I am so lucky to have enjoyed it all these years. It must be the finest in all of Hampshire. At least that is what your dear Papa, my darling brother, always told me when he came to visit.”

  Rosella looked up from the flowers, as she heard her aunt give another little sigh.

  “Did I come with him too?” she asked, trying to think of something cheerful to say, as her aunt’s elegant head was bowed, as if she was about to cry.

  “Oh yes, my darling. As soon as you could put one foot in front of the other, you used to totter up and down the paths following your Papa.”

  Aunt Beatrice’s eyes were shining brightly again as her mind travelled back in time.

  “You tried so hard to copy him, when he told you the names of some of the roses, Gloire de Dijon – Cardinal Richelieu, but the words were much too hard for you.”

  “I know them all now. Every single one!”

  “He would have been proud of you,” Aunt Beatrice said. “Very very proud.”

  And she shook her head, looking sad again.

  Rosella’s Mama and Papa, Lord and Lady Ryland had died in Italy in a railway accident, when she was still a tiny child.

  She could hardly remember them, but sometimes the echo of her Mama’s soft voice and the strong feel of her Papa’s hand holding hers would come to her when she was alone in the garden, walking along the same paths they had explored all those years ago.

  Aunt Beatrice had brought her up, here at New Hall – the beautiful Georgian house that was not new anymore at all, but was almost a hundred years old.

  “You are my greatest blessing, Rosella,” her aunt had told her many times. “What a very sad and lonely life I would have had without you – ”

  Sadly Lord Peregrine Brockley, Aunt Beatrice’s husband, had passed away not long after they were married and before any children had been born to them.

  When her brother and sister-in-law die
d, leaving their little daughter penniless and without a home, since the Ryland estate had passed to a distant elderly male cousin, who had no liking for small children, Aunt Beatrice had no hesitation in taking in her niece and loving her as if she was her own child.

  Now Rosella had finished arranging the lilac and peonies and she lifted up the heavy vase to show her aunt.

  “Oh, darling. How marvellous.”

  The bright June sun shone in through the window, its bright rays falling on her aunt as she lay on the sofa.

  “Aunt Beatrice – ” Rosella said, her heart feeling full of a strange anxious pain she had never felt before, as she noticed the dark shadows beneath her aunt’s eyes, “are you feeling quite all right? You look very tired.”

  “I am absolutely fine. I have been a little short of breath these last few days. But do you know something? Talking of the roses has reminded me of something very important indeed.”

  She sat up on the sofa, moving out of the bright patch of sunlight.

  “Darling, please go to the bureau and bring me the little silver bag that is in the drawer.”

  Rosella did as she was told.

  Her aunt’s silver mesh purse felt heavy in her hands as she carried it back to the sofa.

  “Now then.”

  Aunt Beatrice undid the clasp.

  “Your Birthday! I cannot quite believe it, but you are going to be seventeen years old. My darling little girl is all of a sudden quite grown-up.”

  She tipped the purse upside down and a cascade of gold coins poured onto the little table beside the sofa.

  “There. I think that should be more than enough to buy the loveliest dress we can find for the prettiest girl in Hampshire, don’t you?”

  “Oh! Aunt Beatrice, what a lot of money!”

  Rosella had never seen so many coins, all piled up together.

  “No expense shall be spared, my darling – ”

  She was about to say something else, but her voice caught in her throat and she gave a little cough.

  “What is it?”

  Rosella felt anxious again, as she saw that her aunt was pressing her hand to her side.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Aunt Beatrice shook her head and, gathering up the coins, dropped them back in the purse.