100. A Rose In Jeopardy Read Free

just come into the hall.
    “I had quite forgotten! Come Lady Rosella, we must make a big fuss of you.”
    She took the basket of flowers and led the way to the parlour, a small room where Rosella preferred to sit now, since the drawing room held such sad memories.
    “My Lady, I shall put these in water for you and bring you some of your favourite hot chocolate.”
    Rosella sat in one of the armchairs by the fire.
    It was strange to have someone else do for her what she had always done for her aunt.
    But when Mrs. Dawkins returned with the roses in a tall glass vase, they looked so lovely she almost forgot how sad she was feeling.
    And when the housekeeper set the vase down next to Pickle, who was sitting in his cage on the windowsill, he called out “ goodness gracious ” in such a surprised tone that Rosella had to laugh at him.
    “Now, my Lady – ”
    Mrs. Dawkins watched the parlourmaid coming in with a cup of steaming hot chocolate, before continuing,
    “I well know that your dear aunt had planned a very happy day for you. She told me many a time she wanted to take you and buy you a fine gown.”
    “Yes, that’s right, Mrs. Dawkins.” Rosella replied. “She even gave me some money, but – I don’t think – ”
    “Well,” Mrs. Dawkins was determined to speak her mind. “I know how much your aunt wanted you to have that gown, my Lady, so I am going to call for the carriage to take you into Winchester. And you must then choose the loveliest silk and ask the dressmaker to make you the finest outfit you’ve ever had!”
    Rosella shook her head.
    “I couldn’t.”
    “It’s what your aunt would have wanted. For her sake, Lady Rosella, you must do it!”
    Mrs. Dawkins stood her ground firmly until Rosella finally nodded in agreement and then the kind housekeeper hurried away to speak to the coachman.
    *
    Mr. Algernon Merriman lounged back against the leather cushions of the Brockley coach, as it jolted along the bumpy country road and wished he had suggested to his friend, Lord Carlton Brockley, that he should use the open landau instead for their journey down to Hampshire.
    It would have been much more comfortable on this hot and stuffy day than the cramped interior of the coach.
    He looked across at Lord Brockley, who was sitting opposite him and thought that his companion was looking very much the worse for wear.
    His Lordship’s heavy face, with its drooping jowls and thick black mutton-chop whiskers, was flushed with heat and shiny with sweat.
    “Whose idea was this?” Lord Brockley growled, running the back of his hand over his brows. “We would have made much better time on the railway.”
    “Now then your Lordship. One must keep up one’s appearances.”
    Algernon pulled himself up on the seat so that he was sitting up properly.
    He caught a glimpse of his reflected face in the small window above Lord Brockley’s head.
    They were neither of them getting any younger, but at least he, Algernon, had a good thick head of fair hair still and his long pointed moustache, newly trimmed and waxed by his valet early that morning was perfection!
    Luckily his reflection in the little window was not a very good one, so that the nasty black eye he had acquired a few days before, in most embarrassing circumstances, did not show up.
    “You are taking possession of your new country residence, Carlton,” he continued. “You can’t just turn up in the Stationmaster’s dog cart like any old passenger. You must make an impression! Arrive in your coach, my Lord, with your coat-of-arms and your coachman, if you please.”
    “Hah!” Lord Brockley was not at all convinced. He rapped on the roof and shouted out, “how much further?”
    “It be just ten miles to the other side of Winchester, sir, we’ll soon be there,” came the muffled reply.
    His Lordship growled impatiently.
    “Ten miles too far,” he muttered.
    “But just think of what awaits you,” Algernon said. “One of the most attractive seats in