“And then…”
“And then Alva would whip her, whip her with a riding crop.”
The crop could have struck me, so sharp was the pain from her words, pain for Consuelo, pain for them all.
I envied these “cottagers” their life, their wealth, their beautiful homes, clothes, jewels. I wanted such a life for myself. Or did I? Hearing such things as this, made my wants as thin and elusive as passing summer clouds.
“As Consuelo grew to be so beautiful—”
“She is a true beauty,” I agreed.
“Isn"t she?” Pearl said, not a speck of envy spoiled her pride. “Well, her conniving mother knew that beauty would serve her well. Alva"s been pushing members of royalty on her since she was as young as fourteen, fifteen. How better to become a true aristocrat rather than just a filthy rich American?”
“But Consuel
