Beyond the Horizon by Barbara Cartland

Author:Barbara Cartland
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-78213-574-6
Published: 2014-09-11T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Two days later, Rosilda was standing in the vast ornate entrance hall of the Montdeaves Palace, her battered leather travelling bag at her feet.

She was there waiting for the carriage that would transport her to the little railway station to catch the first train of many on her long journey home to England.

She would be arriving at the station by the road that ran directly out of the valley, over a high pass between two great mountains and then down the slope in a series of long zigzags.

This was the official route into Montdeaves and it very different to the tortuous mountain climb on muleback that she had endured on the inward journey.

Rosilda sighed.

She was still bitterly upset at being sent home so soon by Sir Andrew, but she had to admit that there was nothing else for her to do here in Montdeaves.

Princess Marianne no longer needed a chaperone.

She had maids, attendants and even a bodyguard of her own, although no one had mentioned to her if she was still in danger.

Rosilda had glimpsed Ernst de Gride, the man Sir Andrew had warned her about, from a distance but had not spoken to him.

He had been laughing and joking with the Prince and Marianne and Rosilda thought that it was very difficult to believe that the large jovial gentleman meant any harm to the young Princess.

Marianne had been very off-hand, almost distant, to her since they had arrived in Montdeaves and Rosilda could not understand this behaviour on her part.

She even missed her complaining and her sarcastic remarks!

This quiet withdrawn young lady worried Rosilda. She seemed so unlike her usual animated self.

She had asked Marianne if she was quite well, but the girl had just snapped back,

“Of course I am very well. Don’t always fuss about me so much, Rosilda!”

The only time she had resembled the old Marianne was yesterday evening when she had summoned Rosilda to her bedroom and waved an imperious hand towards a heap of clothes lying on the silk covered bed.

“Take what you want, Rosilda. Nothing there suits me any further and you can hardly travel back to England wearing the few clothes you are left with. Your stockings must be threadbare by now!”

Rosilda eyes widened in amazement.

There were mounds of travelling skirts and jackets, day dresses, shawls, stockings and petticoats.

And there was also a beautiful pale violet evening dress, the silken folds of which slid through her fingers like water.

“But Marianne, these are all far too fine for me!” Rosilda exclaimed. “Where would I wear such a wonderful evening gown?”

The Princess shrugged and turned away to gaze out of the window towards the high mountains.

“Oh, Rosilda, you cannot possibly know what lies in store for you in the future! Anything can happen to you in life. You might well marry a rich man and then have countless functions to attend.”

“I think that is very unlikely!”

Marianne sighed.

“Do you have a nice evening gown at home?”

Rosilda shook her head.

She was reluctant to admit that she had never yet in her life been to a ball.

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