Read Online The Temptation of Torilla by Barbara Cartland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Cartland
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know someone will be forgotten and will therefore become an enemy for life and that is why I am making a list as I think of them.”
Torilla put down her bonnet before she replied,
“You must show it to me! Then I can ask you about all the friends I used to know but who I am afraid will have forgotten me by now.”
“Captain and Mrs. Chalmers,” Beryl said aloud as she inscribed their names.
“I remember the Chalmers,” Torilla exclaimed. “She was a very sweet woman, but I always thought he was rather aggressive.”
Beryl did not reply and after a moment Torilla added,
“That reminds me of another soldier. How is Rodney?”
Beryl was suddenly very still, but Torilla did not notice.
“It will be fun to see him again,” she went on. “Do you remember how he used to tease us? Like when he took away the ladder and we had to stay in the hayloft in the stables for over an hour before we were rescued!”
She gave a little laugh.
“I am sure if anyone is jealous about your being married it will be Rodney.”
Then as Beryl did not reply, Torilla sensed that something was wrong.
“What is it?” she asked in a low voice.
“Rodney is dead!”
Beryl rose as she spoke from the secretaire and walked towards one of the long French windows opening into the garden.
“Dead?” Torilla repeated in astonishment. “Oh, Beryl, I had no idea! No one told me. How could he have died?”
She was silent until Beryl replied,
“He was killed in France.”
“But the war was over when Papa and I left here,” Torilla said. “Do you not remember how excited we were when we heard that Paris had surrendered?”
There was a pause before Beryl answered,
“The Duke of Wellington did not know that the Allied Forces had taken Paris and that the war was really over.”
“We knew that Rodney’s Regiment had entered France at St. Jean de Luz,” Torilla said almost as if she was speaking to herself.
“They fought their way as far as Toulouse,” Beryl came in with a strangled voice. “Of course we did not learn until much, much later that Marshall Soult was convinced that Toulouse was impregnable.”
“And so the Duke of Wellington attacked it,” Torilla said as if she knew the end of the story.
“There were very heavy – losses,” Beryl went on with tears in her voice. “The newspapers reported that nearly five thousand of our troops were killed and – Rodney was – among them.”
“Oh – I am sorry, Beryl. I am so very very sorry,” Torilla cried. “I had no idea and you never told me in your letters.”
“The Marsden’s heard nothing until after Christmas,” Beryl explained, her voice catching over the words. “Then they were told that – Rodney was not amongst the s-survivors of the battle.”
“I can hardly believe it!” Torilla whispered.
Rodney Marsden had been so much a part of her’s and Beryl’s childhood.
His father, Squire Marsden, had an estate that bordered the Earl’s and Rodney, although three years older than Beryl, was an only child too.
Inevitably he spent his holidays from school in their company.
Because the Earl was fond of him, he allowed him to shoot duck on the lakes, pigeons and rabbits in the woods and occasionally, when he grew older, he accompanied his father pheasant and partridge shooting.
Squire Marsden had some good horses, especially hunters, and Rodney appointed himself to lead Beryl and Torilla in the hunting field.
He was also their dancing partner at all the parties their parents gave at Christmastime and Torilla thought of him as the brother she would have loved to have.
It was only now that she had learnt that he was dead that she knew how much she had looked forward to seeing him again.
She moved across the salon, put her arms round Beryl and said softly,
“The only consolation is that was the way Rodney would have – wanted to – die. He was so proud to be in the Army.”
For a moment Beryl clung to Torilla then she moved away and said in a
Torilla put down her bonnet before she replied,
“You must show it to me! Then I can ask you about all the friends I used to know but who I am afraid will have forgotten me by now.”
“Captain and Mrs. Chalmers,” Beryl said aloud as she inscribed their names.
“I remember the Chalmers,” Torilla exclaimed. “She was a very sweet woman, but I always thought he was rather aggressive.”
Beryl did not reply and after a moment Torilla added,
“That reminds me of another soldier. How is Rodney?”
Beryl was suddenly very still, but Torilla did not notice.
“It will be fun to see him again,” she went on. “Do you remember how he used to tease us? Like when he took away the ladder and we had to stay in the hayloft in the stables for over an hour before we were rescued!”
She gave a little laugh.
“I am sure if anyone is jealous about your being married it will be Rodney.”
Then as Beryl did not reply, Torilla sensed that something was wrong.
“What is it?” she asked in a low voice.
“Rodney is dead!”
Beryl rose as she spoke from the secretaire and walked towards one of the long French windows opening into the garden.
“Dead?” Torilla repeated in astonishment. “Oh, Beryl, I had no idea! No one told me. How could he have died?”
She was silent until Beryl replied,
“He was killed in France.”
“But the war was over when Papa and I left here,” Torilla said. “Do you not remember how excited we were when we heard that Paris had surrendered?”
There was a pause before Beryl answered,
“The Duke of Wellington did not know that the Allied Forces had taken Paris and that the war was really over.”
“We knew that Rodney’s Regiment had entered France at St. Jean de Luz,” Torilla said almost as if she was speaking to herself.
“They fought their way as far as Toulouse,” Beryl came in with a strangled voice. “Of course we did not learn until much, much later that Marshall Soult was convinced that Toulouse was impregnable.”
“And so the Duke of Wellington attacked it,” Torilla said as if she knew the end of the story.
“There were very heavy – losses,” Beryl went on with tears in her voice. “The newspapers reported that nearly five thousand of our troops were killed and – Rodney was – among them.”
“Oh – I am sorry, Beryl. I am so very very sorry,” Torilla cried. “I had no idea and you never told me in your letters.”
“The Marsden’s heard nothing until after Christmas,” Beryl explained, her voice catching over the words. “Then they were told that – Rodney was not amongst the s-survivors of the battle.”
“I can hardly believe it!” Torilla whispered.
Rodney Marsden had been so much a part of her’s and Beryl’s childhood.
His father, Squire Marsden, had an estate that bordered the Earl’s and Rodney, although three years older than Beryl, was an only child too.
Inevitably he spent his holidays from school in their company.
Because the Earl was fond of him, he allowed him to shoot duck on the lakes, pigeons and rabbits in the woods and occasionally, when he grew older, he accompanied his father pheasant and partridge shooting.
Squire Marsden had some good horses, especially hunters, and Rodney appointed himself to lead Beryl and Torilla in the hunting field.
He was also their dancing partner at all the parties their parents gave at Christmastime and Torilla thought of him as the brother she would have loved to have.
It was only now that she had learnt that he was dead that she knew how much she had looked forward to seeing him again.
She moved across the salon, put her arms round Beryl and said softly,
“The only consolation is that was the way Rodney would have – wanted to – die. He was so proud to be in the Army.”
For a moment Beryl clung to Torilla then she moved away and said in a
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