A Kiss In Rome. Barbara Cartland

      AUTHOR’S NOTE

      The first time I visited Rome I was totally entranced by the beauty of its treasures and the history which one finds at every turn.

      It is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful Cities in the world and every stone appears to have a fascinating story attached to it.

      The Villa Borghese that I have described in this novel and, which in the past was called a Palace, is one of the jewels of Europe.

      It is breathtaking in the beauty of its rooms and their contents.

      It was built originally by Cardinal Camillo Borghese in 1560 when he came to the Papal throne, taking the name of Paul V.

      The treasures were added to year by year with each generation of Borghese.

      But it makes one’s heart sink to learn that the famous collection of antique sculpture to which had been added the masterpieces of Bernini, making in all 523 pieces, was given by Camillo Borghese, the husband of the beautiful Pauline Bonaparte to his brother-in-law Napoleon in 1807 and was carried off bodily in triumph to Paris.

      This is typical of conquerors all down the ages, but fortunately, however, most of these were returned eventually to Rome where we may still see and admire them.

      The exquisite statue of Pauline Borghese, who was the second wife of Prince Camillo Borghese, is the masterpiece of Antonio Canova (1757-1822).

      It shows Pauline semi-nude, reclining on a divan, half raised up and holding in her left hand the apple of victory won as Venus for her beauty.

      I have written two novels that include the Borghese Palace. The other is called The Coin of Love.

      In this novel, which I wrote after my visit in 1988, I have described the magic of the Trevi Fountain and the glory of the Colosseum.

      But one has only to arrive in Rome and visit a list of the places that move one and excite the imagination to find that there are hundreds more waiting for one’s appreciation.

      Rome is known as the ‘Eternal City’, and as long as its treasures remain, it will always have a place in the hearts of those who love and appreciate beauty.

      CHAPTER ONE ~ 1879

      Alina Langley looked round the room and wondered miserably if there was anything left for her to sell.

      Everything that was of any real value had already gone from the house quite some time ago now.

      She thought that the patches on the wall where the mirrors had hung and the gap where the pretty inlaid secrétaire had stood made her want to cry.

      “What can I do?” she asked the drawing room. “What can I do?”

      It just seemed incredible to her that everything had happened so quickly.

      From feeling safe and happy in the world around her she now felt as if the ceiling had crashed down on her head.

      When her father a year ago had had a fall out hunting and broken his spine, it was for her mother as if the world had come to an end.

      They had been extremely happy together. They were not in the slightest bit rich, but they had enough money to enjoy their horses and the few acres of land that they were surrounded by in the middle of glorious English countryside.

      Then, when Sir Oswald died one day in considerable pain, it was found that he had run up a mountain of debts.

      They were certainly not due to riotous living.

      He had not paid his taxes and he owed a great deal to his coachbuilder and to the builders who were engaged for endless repairs to the house.

      What was worse, shares in Companies that he had invested both his wife’s and his own money in had turned out to be worthless.

      Lady Langley, however, was not at all perturbed by any of this.

      She only knew that without her husband she had no wish to go on living.

      To Alina it was horrifying to see her mother fading away before her eyes. She was still so young and beautiful and had always seemed like a girl.

      So, as she had no wish to live, Lady Langley simply died so that she could be with her husband again.

      It was then that Alina knew that she was alone in the world and, what was even more frightening that she had no money.

      The house was hers because she was an only child, but how could she possibly keep it up?

      Anything that was valuable had been sold off already to pay her father’s mounting debts.

      A few pieces of antique furniture that she cherished she had had to sell to pay for special food and medicines for her ailing mother.

      It was just a waste of money for Lady Langley never got better and had never intended to do so.

      Alina walked over to the window to look out at the garden.

      The daffodils made a golden patch of colour beneath the trees and the almond trees were just coming into bloom and the grass was now beginning to grow strongly on the lawns.

      The sun was shining brightly and so she opened the window.

      She could hear the song of birds and the buzz of the bees hovering over the blossom.

      It was all so familiar to her and she felt as if they were telling her that they sympathised with her in her present predicament.

      How they wished that they could find some way to help her.

      “What can I do?” she asked the wrens who were watching her from a bush that was just beginning to show the first green leaves of spring.

      It was then to her surprise that she heard in the distance wheels approaching the front door.

      She was wondering who it could possibly be.

      The only people who had called to talk to her after her mother’s funeral had been from the village and they had walked to the pretty Norman Church at the end of the garden.

      She then thought that it might well be the doctor who had always been a good friend of the family.

      Then she remembered that he had gone away to Scotland on a short holiday.

      Slowly, because she almost resented being disturbed in her loneliness, she walked from the drawing room out into the hall.

      The woman who came to clean in the morning had already left and she opened the door herself.

      A very smart and modern carriage was standing outside on the gravel drive.

      There was a face at its window that made her cry out in astonishment,

      “Denise! Is it really you?”

      She ran down the steps and, as the elegantly dressed figure climbed out of the carriage, she flung her arms around her.

      “Denise, how wonderful to see you!” she exclaimed. “I thought that you had forgotten all about me.”

      “No, of course not,” Denise Sedgewick replied, “but I have come to ask for your help.”

      “My help?” Alina repeated in surprise.

      She just could not imagine how Denise Sedgewick could possibly want her help.

      Her mother had been a distant cousin of the Sedgewick family and had been devoted to Denise’s mother before she had died in childbirth.

      As Alina and Denise were almost the same age, with Denise just a few months older, it was arranged that they should take lessons together.

      Every Monday Alina would ride over to their house, which was only two miles away across the fields and stay there until the Friday, when she returned home to be with her father and mother.

      It had been a very satisfactory arrangement from Lady Langley’s point of view.