Read Online Coach and Four: Allisandra's Tale by Linore Rose Burkard - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Linore Rose Burkard
Tags: Romance, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Historical Romance, Short Stories, Anthologies, Collections & Anthologies
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debauched courtiers; weary of suspicions fed by rumours, such as when some maintained she had been mistress to the king. Preposterous!
Despite her affection for the Queen, therefore, when her royal guardian had instructed that she should remove to Langley, giving no explanation or specified amount of time, she had not required either. Indeed, she was happy to visit her longtime friend, the Duchess of Langley, Elizabeth Hastings.
She assumed His Majesty had arranged the matter for her because he knew of the warm and lasting bond that existed between Allisandra and Her Grace. Orphaned too young to remember the parents who had faithfully served in Charles’s restoration, Allisandra had been raised in a French convent. At age thirteen, the King deemed it was time for her to learn the ways of the English, and had her removed to Langley. There, the duchess had taken the young woman under her wing, and the two had forged a relationship not unlike mother and daughter. At eighteen, however, Allisandra was again summoned—this time to Whitehall, and had been living there in her own apartments ever since.
Thinking on it all, knowing how Elizabeth loved her, she continued to feel perplexed, but tried to hold greater alarm at bay. The friend who was like a mother to her surely could have nothing sinister afoot.
And yet--Elizabeth had formed what seemed a flimsy excuse to induce Allisandra to go outside this cold evening, saying she longed for air—but that Allisandra must accompany her. No sooner had they left the house than the duchess decided it was a drive she needed—in the black of night!--and lo, but the duchess's luxurious coach and four were already in front, at their service.
It was clear, even then, that Elizabeth had been up to something. But there was no reason for Allisandra to think it had anything to do with her. Moreover, she loved her friend and wished to be agreeable, so she asked no questions and did as the duchess bade her. Now she was regretting it.
It appeared Elizabeth had a secret—a reason for arranging this. But why? Allisandra was frightened. Had the duchess forgotten, already, the recent shock Allisandra had suffered when the coach she'd been travelling in on her way to Langley had been set upon by highwaymen?
In the end, that event left her impressed with a man she ought to despise; but he was singular for a highwayman, the type to fill a girl's head with romantic notions. What's more, he hadn't hurt her. (To this day, three weeks later, she thought of him wistfully—against her better judgment of course. Though her encounter at his hands had not ended in any great abuse, the rake had insisted upon kissing her. All the saints could not have induced her to allow there was pleasantness to it, but there was. Oh, there was. And to him. But why was she thinking of him now? She ought not to think of him at all! She ought to find a decent courtier to dream about, a man with the King’s approval.)
In any case, the upset at being stopped by scoundrels on the road had indeed given her a deal of frights; and with that event only weeks in the past, how was she not to feel a great alarm now, alone and trapped inside the duchess's carriage? But of course this was different. It had to be. This was Elizabeth, her true friend!
The duchess reappeared, and Allisandra threw herself at the door again.
“Elizabeth! What?”—was all she got to say. Someone was holding a torch so that the duchess’s face shone in the light, and it was filled with consternation. Or was it fear? Allisandra’s heart sank. Something was happening, and it did not bode well!
But then, as she watched, Her Grace heaved a sigh of relief, and her demeanor lightened—a little. She exclaimed, speaking to someone Allisandra could not see, “Oh, thank heavens! I was despairing of you, Dorchester!”
Allisandra's brows furrowed. Her legs felt suddenly weak. Dorchester? Surely not the infamous Lord
Despite her affection for the Queen, therefore, when her royal guardian had instructed that she should remove to Langley, giving no explanation or specified amount of time, she had not required either. Indeed, she was happy to visit her longtime friend, the Duchess of Langley, Elizabeth Hastings.
She assumed His Majesty had arranged the matter for her because he knew of the warm and lasting bond that existed between Allisandra and Her Grace. Orphaned too young to remember the parents who had faithfully served in Charles’s restoration, Allisandra had been raised in a French convent. At age thirteen, the King deemed it was time for her to learn the ways of the English, and had her removed to Langley. There, the duchess had taken the young woman under her wing, and the two had forged a relationship not unlike mother and daughter. At eighteen, however, Allisandra was again summoned—this time to Whitehall, and had been living there in her own apartments ever since.
Thinking on it all, knowing how Elizabeth loved her, she continued to feel perplexed, but tried to hold greater alarm at bay. The friend who was like a mother to her surely could have nothing sinister afoot.
And yet--Elizabeth had formed what seemed a flimsy excuse to induce Allisandra to go outside this cold evening, saying she longed for air—but that Allisandra must accompany her. No sooner had they left the house than the duchess decided it was a drive she needed—in the black of night!--and lo, but the duchess's luxurious coach and four were already in front, at their service.
It was clear, even then, that Elizabeth had been up to something. But there was no reason for Allisandra to think it had anything to do with her. Moreover, she loved her friend and wished to be agreeable, so she asked no questions and did as the duchess bade her. Now she was regretting it.
It appeared Elizabeth had a secret—a reason for arranging this. But why? Allisandra was frightened. Had the duchess forgotten, already, the recent shock Allisandra had suffered when the coach she'd been travelling in on her way to Langley had been set upon by highwaymen?
In the end, that event left her impressed with a man she ought to despise; but he was singular for a highwayman, the type to fill a girl's head with romantic notions. What's more, he hadn't hurt her. (To this day, three weeks later, she thought of him wistfully—against her better judgment of course. Though her encounter at his hands had not ended in any great abuse, the rake had insisted upon kissing her. All the saints could not have induced her to allow there was pleasantness to it, but there was. Oh, there was. And to him. But why was she thinking of him now? She ought not to think of him at all! She ought to find a decent courtier to dream about, a man with the King’s approval.)
In any case, the upset at being stopped by scoundrels on the road had indeed given her a deal of frights; and with that event only weeks in the past, how was she not to feel a great alarm now, alone and trapped inside the duchess's carriage? But of course this was different. It had to be. This was Elizabeth, her true friend!
The duchess reappeared, and Allisandra threw herself at the door again.
“Elizabeth! What?”—was all she got to say. Someone was holding a torch so that the duchess’s face shone in the light, and it was filled with consternation. Or was it fear? Allisandra’s heart sank. Something was happening, and it did not bode well!
But then, as she watched, Her Grace heaved a sigh of relief, and her demeanor lightened—a little. She exclaimed, speaking to someone Allisandra could not see, “Oh, thank heavens! I was despairing of you, Dorchester!”
Allisandra's brows furrowed. Her legs felt suddenly weak. Dorchester? Surely not the infamous Lord
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