We use cookies
When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Your cookies settings
Strictly cookie settingsAlways Active
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FOURA pale sun struggled to shine as Sylvia rode up the avenue that led to Castle Belham. There was barely a sound. Just the drip of rain from wet leaves, or the odd sucking noise as her horse drew a hoof up from the muddy ground. That morning, after what had seemed like weeks of bad weather, the skies had finally cleared. This had decided Sylvia to accompany her sisters’ coach as far as the gates of the estate. She said good-bye to them there. Now that they had, as they thought, achieved their purpose, now that Sylvia was going to marry ‘that fine looking fellow, the Count,’ Edith and Charlotte were in magnanimous mood. They chatted to her merrily and begged to be matrons of honour. “You must come up to London to choose your trousseau,” urged Edith. “And we insist that you are
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD
