A Castle of Dreams
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A CASTLE OF DREAMS
BARBARA CARTLAND
www.barbaracartland.com
Copyright © 2009 by Cartland Promotions
First published on the internet in August 2009 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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A CASTLE OF DREAMS
The Duke strode across the hall and then stopped as a sudden flash of pale blue caught his eye.
The most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life was gliding down the great stairway towards him.
He did not see the costly dress or even the sparkling sapphires at her neck.
All he could see was the sheer beauty of her face, the proud way she held her head, the tumbled golden curls, carelessly pinned back with a length of cream lace.
He had not the faintest idea who she was or who could introduce him.
Normally the Duke was a quiet reserved man, but some power held him in place at the foot of the stairs and as the angel in blue reached him, he held out his hand and asked her gently,
“Madam, please will you do the honour of dancing with me?”
Viola felt as if she had been swept away into an unknown world.
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Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.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 :
Barbara Cartland.com Ltd.
240 High Road,
Harrow Weald,
Harrow
HA3 7BB
United Kingdom.
Telephone & fax: +44 (0)20 8863 2520
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.
1. The Cross Of Love
2. Love In The Highlands
3. Love Finds The Way
4. The Castle Of Love
5. Love Is Triumphant
6. Stars In The Sky
7. The Ship Of Love
8. A Dangerous Disguise
9. Love Became Theirs
10. Love Drives In
11. Sailing To Love
12. The Star Of Love
13. Music Is The Soul Of Love
14. Love In The East
15. Theirs To Eternity
16. A Paradise On Earth
17. Love Wins In Berlin
18. In Search Of Love
19. Love Rescues Rosanna
20. A Heart In Heaven
21. The House Of Happiness
22. Royalty Defeated By Love
23. The White Witch
24. They Sought Love
25. Love Is The Reason For Living
26. They Found Their Way To Heaven
27. Learning To Love
28. Journey To Happiness
29. A Kiss In The Desert
30. The Heart Of Love
31. The Richness Of Love
32. For Ever And Ever
33. An Unexpected Love
34. Saved By An Angel
35. Touching The Stars
36. Seeking Love
37. Journey To Love
38. The Importance Of Love
39. Love By The Lake
40. A Dream Come True
41. The King Without A Heart
42. The Waters Of Love
43. Danger To The Duke
44. A Perfect Way To Heaven
45. Follow Your Heart
46. In Hiding
47. Rivals For Love
48. A Kiss From The Heart
49. Lovers In London
50. This Way To Heaven
51. A Princess Prays
52. Mine For Ever
53. The Earl’s Revenge
54. Love At The Tower
55. Ruled By Love
56. Love Came From Heaven
57. Love And Apollo
58. The Keys Of Love
59. A Castle Of Dreams
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 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 eve
ryone that made her truly unique.
“We all dream about romantic castles rising out of the mist in a beautiful setting. For me Scotland with all its turbulent history and wonderful heritage has to be the most romantic country in the world.”
Barbara Cartland
CHAPTER ONE
1904
Lady Viola Northcombe stared at her reflection in the old misted cheval mirror that stood in the corner of her bedroom and sighed.
She was supremely unaware of the beauty of her face, surrounded as it was by tumbling blonde curls, her eyes the most startling violet blue fringed with dark lashes that swept down onto pink cheeks.
No, all Lady Viola could see at the moment was the old-fashioned, ivory lace ball gown she was wearing.
At nineteen Viola was not a fashion conscious girl.
She was more than happy wearing riding clothes or a plain cotton dress to sit in the garden.
But tonight was a special occasion and she wished she looked just a little more – well, special!
“Nanny, is there anything we can do to make this look a little more fashionable, a little more up to date?” she asked as a round-faced, elderly woman dressed all in black with a small lace collar came into her bedroom.
Nanny Barstow carefully placed the large armful of freshly ironed clothes she was carrying onto the top of the chest of drawers.
She now took a deep breath and smoothed down the linen apron she was wearing. The endless flights of stairs up from the basement of the tall London house were very steep and she was not getting any younger.
“Now then, my Lady, I’ve got quite enough to do to get you and your brother packed for your trip to America without fussing about with a perfectly good ball gown.”
Nanny Barstow’s rather ferocious expression hid a kind and gentle heart.
She had been a lady’s maid to Viola’s mother and nanny to both Viola and her twin brother, David, since they were born and would cheerfully have laid down her life for both of them without a murmur.
It upset Nanny that her Lady Viola had to wear an old ball gown that had once belonged to her elderly cousin, Miss Edith Matthews.
Miss Matthews owned the house in the big London Square where they were living, but as she wryly told Viola, her ball-going days were long past. She was badly crippled by pains in her hips and knees and rarely left her room.
“Now, no more complaining, my Lady. It’s so very good of Miss Matthews to let you wear her dress. Now, if I just trim a few of these loose threads from the hem and sleeves and you wear your nice long gloves, it will do very well.”
Viola sighed.
“I do wish Papa had sent us some money instead of two boat tickets to New York. I cannot understand why he wants us to visit him. He never has before when he has travelled abroad.”
Nanny Barstow sniffed, but did not reply.
Her opinion of the Earl of Northcombe was not one she would repeat to his daughter!
His wife, Helena, had died of pneumonia when the twins were just four years old.
Nanny believed that any normal man would have turned all his attention and affection towards the twins, but the Earl had never seemed interested in his children at all.
He had very little money of his own and relied on the income from his late wife’s investments.
All the family capital was tied up to be inherited by the twins when they reached the age of twenty-one.
For the past number of years, the Earl, who had a restless nature, had plunged into one business scheme after another – always about to make his fortune, but somehow never quite managing to do so.
If it had not been for the kindness and generosity of Miss Edith Matthews, Nanny had no idea what would have become of the twins.
The Earl had gone out to America two years before and apart from a few infrequent letters, the twins had heard nothing until the tickets had arrived, urging them to travel across the Atlantic and join him in New York as quickly as possible.
“I’ll thank you to just let me finish packing your steamer trunk or else you’ll never be ready to leave in the morning,” Nanny scolded. “Now hurry along, Lady Viola. Your brother has been waiting for you in the drawing room these past twenty minutes.”
Viola pinched her already rosy cheeks and picked up her stole.
“Just think, Nanny, this time tomorrow we will be at sea!”
“Hmmph! In my humble opinion, you would have done better having a quiet evening indoors, the pair of you!”
Viola chuckled.
“Oh, Nanny! How you do fuss over us. You know that Charlotte has asked us especially to her birthday ball. There is no way we could have refused to go. She is my best friend in all the world.”
Nanny’s stern features softened a little.
She did approve of Miss Charlotte Brent and had to admit that the lively young heiress to the Brent fortune had never faltered in her loyal friendship to the Northcombe children, even though they were very poor in comparison.
“Well, make certain you are home at a respectable time. You have to be up early to travel to Southampton.”
Viola kissed Nanny’s wrinkled cheek, picked up her wrap and hurried down the steep flights of stairs to the ground floor.
In the drawing room her dear twin brother, David, the Viscount Powell, was sprawled out on the sofa, reading the evening newspaper.
Viola hesitated in the doorway watching him.
She loved David very much. He was slim and tall like her, but his hair was a darker blond than hers and his eyes were dark grey.
David, shy and retiring, was completely different in character from his far more outgoing sister.
He did not care overmuch for parties or balls. He was a talented artist and his sketches of birds and animals were outstanding.
He was a dreamer and had undoubtedly inherited his father’s restlessness, because he longed to travel to the Far East and the more remote islands of the Pacific where he could observe and paint strange birds and butterflies.
Now he looked up and grinned at his sister.
“Thank goodness, Sis! I thought we would arrive at Charlotte’s in time for breakfast, you have been so long getting ready!”
Viola laughed and they hurried out into the street.
Luckily Brent House was situated on the other side of the Square from their cousin’s house, so it was easy to walk through the gardens to where carriages and taxis were arriving with the cream of London Society.
“Does this dress look very bad?”
David peered down at his sister.
He had no clear idea of what was or was not ‘bad’.
Viola was wearing something creamy and lacy. It smelt a little of mothballs, but he did not think it would be wise to tell her so.
“No, why?”
Viola sighed.
“It belongs to Cousin Edith, that’s why! Nanny has packed the only other one I could possibly have worn and, to be fair, that is just as shabby.
“I do wish Papa had sent us some spending money as well as the boat tickets. There are holes in the soles of these shoes and a big darn on the palm of this glove. Oh, I do so hate being poor!”
David plucked a pink rosebud from a trailing bush as they passed and pushed it into his buttonhole. He had never known a life when they had had money to spare.
He frowned at Viola.
“Don’t you think it odd, Papa asking us to go out to America? I mean, I am delighted we are going. I long to travel the world, as you know, but he has never wanted us to visit him before.”
Viola paused as they left the shelter of the garden and stood on the pavement, waiting for a chance to cross the road to the sweeping marble steps of Brent House.
Tall gas torches were flickering brightly on top of ornamental pillars and the big front doors stood wide open to admit the crowds of partygoers.
Viola felt sad when she thought about her father.
She realised that at nineteen years old she still did not know him. Indeed she c
ould count on the fingers of one hand the times she had spent more than a fortnight in his company.
But now he wanted his children with him and had sent expensive tickets for berths on a fast cruise liner.
It was all very puzzling as David had remarked.
Well, she would worry about it when they were on the ship and heading for America.
Tonight she was going to enjoy herself.
She loved dancing and was quite certain that even if she was wearing a perfectly hideous dress, Charlotte would make certain that she danced with plenty of partners.
The great marble entrance hall to Brent House was crowded.
Gentlemen in full evening dress escorted ladies resplendent in dazzling gowns, all their jewellery glittering and gleaming in the light from the huge crystal chandelier hanging above them.
David leaned against an imposing marble pillar at one side of the hall, waiting for Viola.
As soon as they arrived she had been whisked away upstairs by Charlotte Brent, who looked magnificent in a very dark amethyst silk dress, diamonds at her neck and the famous Brent diamond ear-drops plainly on show.
Suddenly David turned and realised that behind the pink and white flower arrangement on a tall pedestal by his side, two dark brown eyes were staring at him.
He moved a stem of white lilies and smiled.
A slender girl, just as tall as his sister, was standing there, her smooth dark hair braided and coiled around her head like a coronet.
She looked nervous and David could see that she was trembling.
“Hello! I say, are you all right there in the middle of all those flowers?”
“Thank you, aye, I am quite all right.”
David smiled.
She had a soft Scottish voice.
“I am David – Viscount Powell. How do you do?”
A small lace gloved hand crept out and touched his fingers for a second.
“Margaret – Lady Margaret Glentorran.”
David pushed the flowers to one side.
“Do come out into the hall, Lady Margaret. Or else you will ruin your pretty dress squashed up against those blooms and leaves.”