A Shooting Star Read online

  A SHOOTING STAR

  BARBARA CARTLAND

  www.barbaracartland.com

  Copyright © 2012 by Cartland Promotions

  First published on the internet in April 2012 by Barbaracartland.com

  ISBNs

  978-1-78213-159-5 Epub

  978-1-78213-160-1 Prc

  978-1-78213-161-8 Pdf

  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 SHOOTING STAR

  ‘I will not be defeated so easily,’ she told herself. ‘Even if they win, I am certain I will find a way to escape.’

  Flavia went over to the window and pulled back the curtains.

  When she looked out, the moon was just appearing in the darkening sky and the first star was twinkling near it.

  She stood looking up at them, feeling that in some way they might help her.

  Then suddenly a shooting star sped across the sky and disappeared behind the roofs of the houses.

  It was almost as if the Heavens had spoken to her.

  The shooting star told her there was always a way out, however frightening the future might seem.

  Like the shooting star, she would somehow evade them and they would be unable to catch her.

  ‘That is what I wanted to know,’ she determined.

  She threw back her head and looked up at the sky again.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Now I know that you are with me and I am no longer alone.”

  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

  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 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 acros
s 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.

  “I have often scanned the sky at night for a shooting star to bring me luck. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but when a shooting star brings you love, then it is a very special star indeed.”

  Barbara Cartland

  CHAPTER ONE

  -

  1878

  Flavia Linwood gazed dreamily out of the window at the garden and thought she had never seen it look better.

  There were flowers everywhere.

  After a very cold and wet spring, the temperature had risen with the result that the flowers had bloomed and the weeds had flourished too.

  Suddenly the whole place seemed to be transformed from the time of the long winter days.

  Flavia loved being in the country and she was sad in some ways that she must now go to London.

  Yet she knew that she would enjoy the endless balls and meeting her father’s friends.

  Her father had been saying for some time that she must ‘come out’ in a traditional Season, as it was only the mourning after her mother’s death that had prevented her from being a debutante the previous year.

  Queen Victoria had made the period of mourning of great Social significance and very lengthy – people were afraid to enjoy themselves if there had been a death in the family and they were to be dressed at all times in black.

  Flavia, however, was thinking that most of all she would miss the horses she rode every morning, as well as swimming in the lake at the end of the garden, which she had done this ever since she was a child and some people thought this very strange on the part of a young girl.

  But London was waiting for her.

  When the maid came in to call her, she told her that the carriage had been ordered for nine-thirty.

  “I’ll have to hurry, Betsy,” Flavia exclaimed. “As Papa will be annoyed if I arrive later than he expects.”

  “We’ll miss you, Miss Flavia,” the maid muttered. “But it be real right and proper for you to ’ave your time in London. It ought to ’ave been last year, but for your dear mother’s passin’ – God rest ’er soul.”

  Flavia did not answer and after she had washed, she dressed quickly.

  She dressed in her very smart clothes that had been bought especially for her to travel to London.

  One of her many aunts flattered herself that she had good taste and had gone to the most expensive shops in Bond Street for Flavia’s ‘coming out’ wardrobe.

  She was nearly nineteen and almost too old to be a debutante.

  But, as she had not been able to appear at any of the balls last year, she was going to make up for it now.

  She certainly looked extremely smart and elegant in a blue dress that reminded her of the forget-me-nots in the garden and she wore a hat to match trimmed with flowers.

  “You look so lovely, Miss Flavia, you do really,” Betsy sighed, “and we’ll miss you till you be back with us again.”

  Flavia smiled at Betsy, who had looked after her ever since she had given up having a nanny.

  “I’ll miss you all at The Priory too, but don’t forget we will come back whenever Papa is free and at least I will be home at the end of the summer.”

  Downstairs her breakfast was waiting for her and, as she finished eating, she heard the family carriage drawn by two fine horses coming round to the front door.

  Her trunks were piled onto the top of the carriage and fastened to the back.

  When she was finally ready to depart, the servants all came crowding into the hall to say goodbye to her.

  There was the housekeeper, Mrs. Nelson, who ruled upstairs with a rod of iron.

  There was their dependable cook, Mrs. Ruck, who had reigned supreme in the kitchen for over twenty years.

  There was the old butler, Parkinson, who had given her sweetmeats in the pantry when she was old enough to toddle in to see him.

  There were housemaids and scullions, footmen and nightwatchmen, all to see her off.

  Flavia shook hands with each one of them and then Parkinson helped her into the carriage.

  The senior housemaid, who was traveling with her followed closely behind.

  As the horses started to move, there were cries of,

  “Good luck, miss! Come home soon!”

  Then they were driving down the long avenue of oak trees towards the lodge gates.

  “I hate leaving home,” Flavia said more to herself than to Martha, the housemaid.

  “We’ll all miss you,” remarked Martha, “but, Miss Flavia, you mustn’t forget the ’ouse in Grosvenor Square also be your home.”

  “That is what Papa says, but I have been there so seldom that I can hardly remember what it’s like.”

  “You’ll soon remember, miss, once you’re there, and I expects when it’s time for you to return ’ome to The Priory, you’ll be feelin’ the other way round.”

  “I think that’s very unlikely,” said Flavia. “What I mind more than anything else is leaving the horses.”

  “You’ll be ridin’ in Rotten Row in London, miss, and very smart it be too from what I ’ears.”

  “I cannot believe it is as much fun as galloping over the fields and riding through the woods,” Flavia insisted.

  Martha did not answer and Flavia stared out of the window at the passing countryside.

  It would take only three hours to reach London.

  She had often wondered why, after her mother died, her father did not come home more often. He could have easily done so, seeing how short the journey was.

  Then she remembered his explanation that he was continually required at Windsor Castle, which was in the other direction.

  Linwood Priory had originally been the home of monks, who had inhabited the house for a hundred years before the Dissolution of the Monasteries.

  Then it had reverted to the Church when Queen Elizabeth came to the throne, but it had become private at the end of her reign. She had honoured one of the early Linwoods, who had been of great support to her personally, by making a gift of The Priory to him.

  And it became traditional in the family that they should always be in attendance at the Seat of Power and at the beck and call of the Monarch.

  It was therefore not surprising that Queen Victoria was constantly seeking the advice of Lord Linwood.

  He was very conscious of his own importance and with him duty always came first.

  If his only daughter suffered because of his duty, he felt that she would understand, as if the Queen wanted him, he must at once be at Her Majesty’s side.

  Flavia had therefore felt when her mother died that she had lost not only one parent but two, and she had often wondered whether her mother had realised how much her father longed to be in London.

  And how much he yearned to be in attendance at the Seat of Power.

  But now, almost like a distant trumpet call, h
e had told Flavia to come to London.

  Because her year of mourning was over there was no possible excuse for her not to obey him.

  Everyone at The Priory, however, had felt ashamed, although they did not say so openly. It was wrong, they muttered over and over again among themselves, that Miss Flavia was so much alone.

  Even if she still had to mourn for her mother, there should have been plenty of girls of her own age to keep her company.

  Now, however, at the end of May, she had been freed.

  Her father had duly sent for her to come to London exactly one day after her year of mourning was over.

  ‘I suppose really,’ she thought, ‘I am feeling a little shy and nervous at going into the Social world after living so quietly in the country.’

  After a moment another thought entered her head,

  ‘Papa said I was to hurry. I wonder why.’

  But as the carriage rumbled on, she knew it was no use discussing this with Martha.

  The maid had closed her eyes and if she was not asleep, she obviously had no wish to talk and Flavia rather suspected that she felt sick in a carriage.

  The horses were fresh and, as the roads were dry, they were moving at a fast rate towards London.

  They stopped at a large coaching inn at luncheon time and Mr. Masters, Lord Linwood’s private secretary in the country, had ordered a private room where Flavia could enjoy her luncheon.

  She would much rather have eaten in the dining room with the other guests. It would have been interesting to see them and know who else was travelling as she was.

  But it was no use her arguing against what was considered right and proper by her father.

  She was well aware that because her maid was with her rather than a relative or a friend, it was correct that they should eat alone in a private room.

  The luncheon was edible if rather dull and so they did not stay long.

  As they set off again, Flavia told herself she must feel excited at nearing London and seeing her father and becoming a debutante that Season.

  “Otherwise I will be too old, Papa,” she had said when he talked to her about it.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he had responded. “You are still only eighteen and, whilst some debutantes make their debut at seventeen, the correct age is eighteen.”