Just after Rosanna had been born, her father had invested all his wealth in a South African gold mine that failed to produce a single nugget of gold.
He had then been forced to sell the family home, Donnington Hall to his uncle, Sir Leonard, and the Earl and his wife had moved to a small house in London.
When her father died, Rosanna had been left a small sum of money while her brother, Clive, had inherited nothing but the family silver and the title.
Then a stray bullet in a skirmish in a far away land had ended her beloved brother’s life, as he fought in the regiment he loved so much.
‘Oh, Clive, why did you have to die?’ Rosanna murmured to herself, as the carriage picked up speed.
They had left the last few houses behind and were now heading out into the dark sleeping countryside.
‘If you were still alive, none of this would be happening to me.’
Clive had never married so on his death, Rosanna and her mother had been left with enough income to keep them comfortable, if not in the height of fashion.
They lived in a small house in a quiet part of Mayfair, kept a few servants and a carriage and were invited out to several parties which took place during the Season.
Then tragedy had struck and the smiling face of fate had turned to a frown. Rosanna’s beloved Mama had caught a chill that turned into a fever.
Although Rosanna had cared for her devotedly for weeks with the help of a nurse, Lady Donnington had died, leaving her daughter all alone in the world – except for her great-uncle.
Sir Leonard had sent a letter of condolence and a brief note stating that as soon as she felt able to travel, she must come to Donnington Hall for a visit. And a grieving Rosanna had written back, formally promising to do so.
However, only two months later, just after her twenty-first birthday and without any warning, Sir Leonard, too, had died – and her whole life changed overnight.
She had been astonished to learn that he had left her his whole estate – house, grounds and fortune.
Rosanna had also discovered to her utter amazement that her great-uncle had been an exceptionally rich man. Unlike his nephew, he had invested wisely over the years and had even enlarged Donnington Hall, so that it could contain all the treasures he had accumulated.
Rosanna had felt almost overwhelmed by what she had unexpectedly inherited.
She wondered how at just twenty-one years old, she could possibly deal with so much money.
More important was how she could spend it not only on herself, but to help other people.
What she had not anticipated nor imagined for a moment was that the story of her inheritance would so quickly reach the long ears of London Society.
To her surprise she found herself asked to select gatherings, where people who had either ignored her or given her a mere nod when they had met before, now embarrassed her with invitation after invitation.
Men who had never given her a second glance in the past, who as far as she could remember, had never even asked her to dance, now laid their hearts and souls at her feet.
‘I had received three offers of marriage to consider before I set out this evening,’ she told herself, ‘and this is the fourth. Is it possible that any young man could be so ridiculous as to think that having more or less cold shouldered me since we first met, I will now fall into his arms like a ripe plum the moment he holds them out to me?
‘It’s my money they want to marry, not me!’ she sighed, swaying as the carriage rocked from side to side as they rounded a sharp bend. ‘If anyone else asks me, I will scream.’
She knew deep down, however, that she would do nothing of the sort. That would be bad manners and as her mother had once said to her as she grew older, “Remember when a man asks you to marry him, darling, he is offering you himself and everything he possesses and hopes for in the future. Therefore the greatest compliment any woman can receive is for a man to ask her to be his wife.”
“What do you say, Mama,” Rosanna had enquired, “if you dislike him and you have no wish to marry him?”
Her mother had smiled.
“Even if you dislike him, you must always be charming and never unpleasant.”
“What do you mean?”
“You must be kind and understanding if you want to say ‘no’. At the same time leave him feeling that he has not been insulted, but merely been told in a friendly fashion that he is charming, delightful and pleasant, but for the moment at any rate, you have no wish to marry anyone.”
But now the men who had offered her their hearts and their names had somehow left her breathless and just a little frightened.
They had told her in no uncertain terms that they were determined to make her the happiest woman in the world and the fierce glare in their eyes was quite alarming.
“I love you from the top of your head to the soles of your dear little feet,” one man had told her. “We will be blissfully happy. I want to travel all over the world and I am sure you will enjoy seeing the countries as much as I will.”
His voice had dropped as he continued, “and we will add glorious items to your glorious house.”
Rosanna had frowned. She had no inclination to add anything to her life at present, especially a man who would marry her not because he believed she was the perfect woman chosen for him by Heaven itself, but because she now possessed what he had always wanted.
‘They love what I have in the bank,’ she muttered, staring out of the carriage window at where the pale apricot light of dawn was painting the eastern sky. ‘I am only the gate leading into the orchard, not the orchard itself.’
And her brilliant blue eyes filled with tears.
As the horses cantered on, she thought how, ever since she was small, she had hoped that one day she would find a man she loved and who loved her completely, because she was who she was, not what she possessed.
The coach rumbled over a wooden bridge and Rosanna wiped tears from her pale cheeks.
‘Yes, I felt so lucky then,’ she sniffed. ‘Dear Mama was still alive. No man tried to persuade me to marry him while she was there to protect me.’
But now Rosanna was completely alone in the world.
Alone, unprotected and very, very rich.
There were no relatives to help her. The solicitors in London who had handled her inheritance were kind but elderly men. Once the money had been paid into her bank, they had no further need to offer her assistance.
Oh, if only her great-uncle had lived long enough to guide her as to how to handle his fortune.
“I hope she will do her best to carry on the family traditions and make her life as significant and useful as I would want it to be,” he had written in his will.
It seemed to Rosanna as if the house and the money which at first had been a delight to her were now a millstone she wanted to forget and ignore.
‘Great-Uncle Leonard wanted me to achieve something in my life,’ she told herself. ‘The money is a burden, but one I must carry. I must find a way to do some good in the world, and being forced into marriage is not the right way.”
“I hate it!” she cried out loud. “I want to be married for myself. I want to find love, the real love which is different in every way from what they are offering me.”
The question was, where would she find it?
Just then the first rays of the sun shot through the carriage window.
Rosanna took a deep breath. A new day. What would it bring her? Last night, scared and unhappy, she had fled back to her Mayfair house after the party and swiftly packed as much as she could into two valises.
She knew she needed to escape and the only place she could go on her own was Donnington Hall. It was time she inspected her property and surely no one would expect her to travel there alone.
Just then she heard the coachman yelling and the cadence of the horses’ hooves changed. It sounded as if one had cast a shoe.
The coach slowed and as Rosanna gazed out of the window, she saw that th
ey were pulling into the courtyard of a prosperous looking inn.
She pulled on her dark travelling cloak, hiding her blonde hair under its hood.
The coachman helped her down.
“Sorry, my Lady, the lead horse has cast a shoe. The smithy is just over the road and it will only be an hour or so before we’re on our way again.”
“Thank you, Henry. I am sure the inn-keeper will provide a private room where I can wait. Indeed, some breakfast would be welcome. Let me know when we are ready to set off once more.”
Even as she spoke, the inn-keeper’s wife appeared, wiping her hands on her apron, bobbed a respectful curtsy and led her inside.
As Rosanna followed her down a musty passageway towards the stairs to the upper chambers, she hesitated for an instant by an open door.
Inside the room she could see an elegant woman dressed in the latest fashion and a portly young man standing arguing.
Ignored behind them, lying back in a chair with a heavily bandaged leg propped up on a stool, was a tall, rugged man with dark hair.
Rosanna stared.
Wrapped in a heavy tweed travelling cloak, his face was pale, his eyes shut and he looked very ill. He groaned as he tossed restlessly in his chair and even from the doorway she could see beads of sweat forming on his brow.
‘Poor man,’ she thought, her heart aching at the sight of his suffering.
And as she walked on after the landlady, she felt a surge of pity for the invalid who was being so ignored by his companions.
CHAPTER TWO
Rosanna was shown into a small upstairs room, which was plainly decorated with a sullen fire smouldering in the grate.
She pushed back the hood of her dark velvet travelling cloak and sank down onto a chair.
The inn-keeper’s wife bobbed another curtsy.
“I’m Mrs. Perks, at your service. Can I be fetchin’ you somethin’ to eat or drink, my Lady? If you’ve been travelling far – ”
Her voice trailed away. Obviously she was anxious to know where the pretty young lady had come from and where she was heading without a chaperone.
Rosanna smiled wearily. She was indeed hungry. She had left London so early in the morning that she had taken nothing to sustain her. She had not wanted to ask her housekeeper, Mrs. Dawkins, for breakfast, because she would have had to explain where she was going.
Instead she had left her a note, saying that she would be in the country if anyone asked for her and could not be reached.
Now she was famished.
“If there is any soup or cold chicken and perhaps a piece of new bread, that would be delightful, thank you, Mrs. Perks,” she said, unaware that the beauty of her bright blue eyes and the genuine warmth of her expression had immediately won over the canny older woman.
When she was on her own, Rosanna crossed to the window and knelt on the wooden seat underneath it.
Through the grimy glass, she looked down into the stable yard where she could see her own carriage waiting and next to it a larger, more splendid coach.
There was a coat of arms painted in gold on the dark blue door, but although she rubbed a clean patch in the glass, she could not see any details.
Just then Mrs. Perks bustled back into the room with a tray of food and drink.
“Tell me,” Rosanna asked, sitting at the table and admiring the bowl of vegetable soup and platter of cold meat and cheese. “Does the dark blue coach belong to the party I saw downstairs, the invalid gentleman?”
“Oh, yes, my Lady. Indeed it does. That’s the Earl of Melton himself! And a nicer gentleman you would be hard to find. Such a tragedy, hurtin’ his leg in a riding accident. He’s very poorly, my Lady.”
Rosanna drank a mouthful of soup and smiled her appreciation at the flavour.
“But should he be travelling if he is so ill? Surely his family who are with him should take better care of him.”
Mrs. Perks sniffed in disdain and wiped her hands on her apron.
“Beggin’ your pardon, my Lady, but I happen to know they’re not his family. Just friends. A Viscount Blackwood and his sister Lady Verity Blackwood.”
“And no doctor travels with them? For shame!”
“I do believe as how they do be on their way back to the Earl’s Castle from Bath. They wanted him to take the waters and see a special sort of doctor down there.”
Rosanna nodded and thanked Mrs. Perks before dismissing her. She had not meant to gossip with the woman, but could not help wonder what sort of friends would put a sick man through such an ordeal.
After her meal, Rosanna felt stronger. In the bright light of day, her escape to Donnington Hall seemed a sensible course of action to have taken. There she would be safe from all admirers and could begin to think about her inheritance and all that it would mean.
‘Oh, but I am being so remiss,’ she said to herself. ‘I have eaten well, but has Henry? He has driven all morning and has to attend to shoeing the horse as well.’
Chiding herself for being so self-centred, Rosanna slipped on her cloak, ran down the stairway and gave instructions to a maid to provide food for her coachman.
On her way back upstairs, she passed the doorway to the room where she had seen the invalid Earl and stopped as a groan rang out.
It was followed by another and Rosanna’s gentle heart overcame her trepidation at appearing forward.
She pushed open the door and peered inside.
The Earl was lying as she had seen him earlier, but his two companions were absent.
‘Probably gone to have a meal,’ Rosanna thought crossly. ‘And left this poor man to his own devices.’
As she watched, the Earl tossed and turned on his chair, obviously in great pain. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead and his dark hair was dishevelled.
Rosanna tiptoed forward, wondering what she could do to help. She knew that being alone with a strange man was not the correct form of behaviour, but still she did not hesitate.
There was a bowl with water on a table at his side. Swiftly, she plucked a handkerchief from her pocket and, soaking it in the water, dabbed gently at his forehead.
The coolness seemed to bring him some relief as the groans ceased and he lay still in the chair.
Rosanna was aware of the breadth of his shoulders under his cloak and the firm contours of his features. It was a strong face, she decided, even if now drawn with pain.
As she turned away to soak her handkerchief once more, the hood of her cloak slipped back and her cloud of fine blonde hair escaped.
“Angel – ” the word emerged from between his dry lips and Rosanna looked back, startled.
She had not realised that the Earl was conscious.
His hand came up, faltering, and touched her cheek.
“An angel – ” he muttered and then slipped back into an uneasy sleep once more.
Rosanna stood gazing down at him, and then gasped as she heard voices coming along the passage. In a second, she had pulled up her hood and slipped out of the door.
She hurried up the stairs, but paused as she reached the bend. She did not want them to hear her footsteps on the wooden treads and know that someone had been in the room.
She could hear their voices clearly now. How dreadful. She was in danger of eavesdropping! Her mother would have been ashamed of her.
“Really, George, I am becoming so tired of all this sickness.” It was a woman’s voice, hard and unpleasant in tone.
“Oh, come, Verity, William can’t help being sick. thought you and he were – well, you know, waiting for him to come and ask for your hand – ”
“Don’t be more stupid than you need be, George,” the woman snapped. “I have every intention of being William’s wife, I just wish his wretched leg would improve and he could return to full health. I am so bored with doing nothing all day but administering to a sick man.”
“Hush, lower your voice, sister. He’s asleep in there, you know. You might wake him.”
Rosanna heard the s
wish of the woman’s dark red gown on the floor.
“Call the servants. We must get William into the coach and take him back to the Castle immediately. I shall insist that the doctor finds him a proper nurse.”
As they left, Rosanna ran back up the stairs to her refuge.
‘Poor man,’ she thought. ‘To be so ill and helpless. I pity him being cared for by friends like that!’
Minutes later, she watched from the window as the great blue coach trundled out of the courtyard. And ten minutes afterwards, she was informed that her carriage was ready and waiting for her to continue her journey to Donnington Hall.
As the miles sped by under the cantering hooves, Rosanna wondered about her new home and what she would find there.
She knew that her great-uncle had extended it in recent years, but that part of it was very old. Indeed, her mother had once told her that one wing had been a monastery several hundred years ago.
‘I know it is now one of the largest and most important houses in this part of the county,’ Rosanna mused. ‘I wish I could remember more about it.’
Her memories of childhood visits were too vague to be of much use.
Rosanna leant forward and gazed out of the window. The countryside was beautiful with green rolling meadows and blue hills in the far distance.
‘Oh, what a marvellous place to ride in,’ she cried.
Rosanna was an accomplished equestrienne and she was keen to inspect the horses she now owned and visit the private Racecourse that her great-uncle had built half a mile from Donnington Hall.
‘What a strange man he must have been,’ she thought. ‘Living on his own in a big house with only a few servants for company.’
The solicitors had told Rosanna that the servants were prepared to stay on and take care of Donnington Hall, while she decided what to do with the estate.
It was a comfort to know that someone would be there when she arrived, unannounced and unchaperoned.
She clasped her hands together in excitement as the carriage slowed and from the window she could see they were turning through ornate iron gates being held open by an elderly lodge keeper.
Love Rescues Rosanna Page 2
