An Introduction to the Pink Collection. Barbara Cartland

railways are the only modern way to travel, and in time the whole country will be covered with them.”

      Rena remembered that this man had made his fortune from railways. Clearly he was determined that everyone should be aware of that fact.

      But while he spoke he was looking round at the dust and dirt in the hall. Following his eyes Rena thought that it would take at least two or three men a week to get the hall clean and tidy. And he knew that.

      She had forgotten that the windows were broken. She also remembered that the stairs going up on one side of the hall were in need of a wash. The carpet on them had almost lost its colour and was torn in many places.

      And all the while Mr Wyngate absorbed these details he continued talking about railways.

      He was a machine, Rena thought, capable of splitting his mind so that it worked in two ways together.

      “Now I want you to show me the house, which I can see at a glance needs a lot doing to it,” Mr Wyngate said in a brusque voice.

      “I think what you should have first is a little rest after your drive,” the Earl suggested. “Perhaps a glass of wine would revive you. Come into the drawing room which is the most civilised room so far. We will show you all over the house later.”

      “I will not refuse a glass of wine,” Mr Wyngate said. “I am sure Matilda will say the same.”

      “I think it is so exciting to be in the country,” Matilda replied. “I would like to go out into the garden.”

      “I will be glad to show you,” Rena said at once. She was glad of the excuse to get out of Mr Wingate’s orbit. She found him horribly oppressive.

      At the same time she was interested to study Matilda, and Matilda’s clothes. Shut away in this quiet place she had had no opportunity to study fashion. Now she realised that crinolines had grown to a vast size. Matilda’s was so enormous that it swayed as she moved, and she only just got through the French windows.

      She wore a huge skirt of honey coloured velvet, which in itself marked her out as wealthy, Rena thought wryly. Only a woman who could command armies of cleaners could wear something that would dirty so quickly. The blouse above it was white silk, and over that she had a little jacket of matching honey velvet.

      But it was her hat that undermined all Rena’s resolutions of virtue. It was a perky little creation in the same velvet, worn over her left eye and sporting a feather.

      What would it be like to own such a hat? She wondered. And suddenly her dowdy dress with its narrow petticoats seemed a crime against nature.

      “This was once a beautiful garden,” she said as they strolled in the sun together, “but now, I’m afraid, only the wild rabbits and the birds enjoy it.”

      Matilda laughed. “They must have lots of fun playing here with no one to stop them.”

      “I only hope they appreciate their freedom,” Rena said. “I know when I was very young I would have loved to have a place like this to play in. Let me show you the lake.”

      They moved away together, deeper into the grounds.