Coming Home

by Rosie MacDonald

  She smiled at him, and was about to fling her arms around him, when she suddenly stopped. ‘What about Tom?’ she asked cautiously. ‘Can you really be okay with what he did, and can you let it go?’

  ‘Anna, I couldn’t give a toss about a prick on the other side of the world. Well, that isn’t entirely true – I still want to knock his block off at the very least, but I won’t pay the airfare for the privilege.’ Jim grinned down at her. ‘As long as you are here, by my side, nothing else matters – I can learn to get over it, if you can?’

  He pulled her towards him, down onto his lap and gently pushed back her blonde mane of hair to kiss her eyelids, her nose and, finally, her lips.

  ********

  Carrie and Martha stood patiently outside the toilet door, waiting for their friend to announce that she was done. ‘The joys of being the maids of honour,’ they joked.

  ‘You can come in now,’ Anna said, grinning from ear to ear. They opened the door wide and inched in – each taking the hoop of her petticoats and the delicate silk of the dress in hand, and helping her to ease back out again without getting anything unpleasant over it.

  ‘I know you always dreamed of the big, full-on meringue, Anna, but I still can’t believe you managed to talk me into designing and making one for you too,’ Martha grumbled good-naturedly.

  As an ex-model, and now designer and boutique owner, Martha had impeccable taste. It had taken Anna a lot of convincing to get her to deliver the wedding dress she had dreamed of having since she was a young girl. Anna had even produced a picture, which her mum had so lovingly kept, that she had drawn when she was just five, to give Martha a starting point. The dress was every little girl’s dream of what a princess bride should look like, with a full, hopped crinoline skirt and a tight bodice that made her waist look impossibly tiny. Martha had also designed dresses for herself and Carrie, and they both looked stunning in gorgeous, purple silk.

  ‘Time to go,’ Anna’s dad’s voice called from downstairs. ‘The cars are here.’

  The three girls grinned at each other, and held hands as they kissed each other.

  ‘Good luck, sweetheart,’ Carrie said, squeezing Anna’s hand.

  ‘We’ll see you at the church,’ Martha added, giving Anna’s veil a last-minute primping before the two of them rushed down the stairs to get in the first car with Lydia, Anna’s mum.

  An elegant cream Bentley awaited them, decked out in ribbons and flowers. Behind it was the vintage Rolls Royce Silver Phantom her dad had finally finished restoring. Having a wedding in the family finally gave him the impetus to get it finished – it had been languishing in the garage for too long and Dad had half-heartedly tinkered with it from time to time. Now, it gleamed in its antique splendour. But nothing could take away how beautiful Anna looked as she descended the stairs, and took her dad’s arm. The three women in the car in front held in their tears, as they watched father and daughter get into the car together. They set off in a convoy, around not just the green, but the entire village, before they returned to the church.

  ********

  Jim waited patiently at the altar, his best friend from university, Marcus, by his side. He grinned at his mum, as she wiped a single tear from her eye whilst fixing a single red rose to his lapel. ‘He’s up there watching Mum,’ Jim said, giving her a quick squeeze.

  ‘I know, love. He’d be so proud. I know I am.’ She sat down in the pew behind him as the music started. Marcus shook his hand.

  ‘Good luck mate, though I don’t think you are going to need it,’ Marcus said, as they both turned to see the bride arriving at the back of the church. Jim watched impatiently as Carrie and Martha fiddled with the impossibly long train, and couldn’t wipe the Cheshire cat grin off his face as he saw the love of his life walk towards him up the church aisle. At last Anna would be his, and only his, for the rest of their lives. From the beaming smile on her face, he knew that she felt the same way as he did. They would always be each other’s anchor, the person and the place they called home – wherever they might end up in the future.

  Want a FREE Book?

  If you do, just visit my website and sign up for my newsletter and get a copy of this very book, absolutely free as a little thank you!

  A Date with Destiny

  A novel about relationships

  In a peculiar twist of fate three women draw the same cards when they visit Carole for a tarot reading on the same day - a peculiar phenomenon that leads Carole to do a personal reading, and to her surprise she gets the very same cards too. Carole decides that this is too much of a coincidence to be ignored, and decides to maintain contact with the women.

  Join me, and come and meet ….

  Amy, the twenty-something who just wants out of her stuck-in-a-rut life, but has no idea how ….

  Daphne, an unhappy housewife and mother whose kids have flown the nest, has little to live for following the death of her Mum ….

  Margot, a feisty seventy-something who is making up for lost time having spent a quiet life trying to please others ….

  And Carole, the loving and caring medium and therapist who introduces them - leading to unbreakable bonds of friendship as they experience life’s ups and downs together.

  A collection of individual tales, bound together in a heart-warming story of love, laughter, tears, and friendship.

  Dear Reader,

  We hope you have enjoyed this touching Romance, set in picturesque Castle Cluny, and if you did we would ask you very kindly to please leave a review for us, so other people will know why to pick up this little book!

  Rosie loves to hear from her readers, so please feel free to contact her via her website at www.rosiemacromance.com where you will find all her books, all kinds of information, news and gossip.

  Catch her on Twitter™ at @rosiemacromance

  Or you can find her on Facebook™

  If you need more Castle Cluny Romance to satisfy and delight, you will want keep your eyes peeled for our other titles in the series ….. (there is a completely free excerpt from An Aristocratic Awakening, the next book in the series, at the end of this book - if you simply can’t wait to dive in!

  And, if you enjoyed Anna and Jim’s story, and would like to receive a FREE collection of Rosie Macdonald’s short stories, then please visit the website at www.rosiemacromance.com

  ‘Enter’ a surprisingly strong and dominant sounding voice called. ‘Surely a man who had suffered through three strokes wasn’t capable of sounding quite so hale and hearty?’ Carrie thought.

  It was a voice rich and smooth as melted chocolate, or a decadent and enticing butterscotch, and the sound of it made her go slightly weak at the knees. She took a deep breath, opened the intricately carved oak door, and entered as confidently as she could. Her hard-won composure immediately assailed, as she looked up into the vivid ice-blue eyes of the most handsome and, quite clearly, the most arrogant man that she had ever encountered in her life.

  Daniel Fortescue-Whitham is heir to a baronetcy and an international investment bank and has everything that money can buy. He didn’t contemplate that anything was missing until he met his Father’s feisty nurse, Carrie Norman. Will Carrie be able to look past the arrogant and handsome exterior and learn to love the shy and creative man beneath, and can Daniel ever learn to truly give his heart and trust to anyone?

  A High Class Affair

  (Lady Caroline’s Story)

  – Due August 2017

  Mannequin No More

  (Martha’s Story)

  – Due October 2017

  About the Author

  Rosie Macdonald has been a romantic her entire life, and had drawn countless designs for her wedding dress by the age of 5 – despite being a complete tomboy with no interest in fashion whatsoever. She grew up in a small Hertfordshire town with her parents, sister, 4 cats, 3 rabbits, 5 guinea pigs, 1 dog and various fair-won goldfish (not all at the same time!), and continued to believe that one day her knight in shining armour would
come and rescue her from her boring life.

  She now lives happily in Essex, where she writes full time, with her overly spoiled cat, Bob, and her partner of 16 years. She is very grateful that Daniel’s proposal in An Aristocratic Awakening was received in a better manner than she herself managed when her partner proposed on Christmas Eve 2009. She swears she responded with a shocked grunt. Well, what would you have said when you finally got the proposal you dreamed of from a man who had spent eight years vehemently claiming he didn’t see the point?

  If you want to learn more about Rosie, please visit her website at www.rosiemacdonald.com where you can sign up for her monthly newsletter, and find out news and gossip about upcoming releases – and what she is up to right now! Or catch her on Twitter @rosiemacromance or on Facebook.

  … and if you just can’t wait to read the next book in the Castle Cluny Series, here is an excerpt from Chapter One of An Aristocratic Awakening to whet your romantic appetite!

  Chapter One

  Carrie looked up at the imposing white walls, of the elegant London town house and felt utterly small, insignificant and, quite frankly, out of her league. When the nursing agency had called and said they had an opening for her she had jumped at the job without asking for details. As a nursing school dropout she knew that she was lucky to have been offered any work at all. Now standing in this serene Georgian garden square, one of the most exclusive addresses in Chelsea, she realised she should have at least checked a few more details about her future employers before she had gotten on the Tube this morning. But, the Fortescue-Witham’s were only human, right? Just because they had money, and an overwhelmingly beautiful house that could have eaten the cottage she grew up in - and still had room for a tower block - did not make them any better than her. Breathing in deeply, she pulled up her spine, squared her shoulders and walked up the four grand steps to the front door. She grasped the huge brass knocker firmly, and rapped it against the grotesque gargoyle on the plate as confidently as she could. Even the glossy green of the door was imposing. She had never seen such an immaculate, and sparklingly clean, front door in her life.

  If she hadn’t been so nervous, Carrie would have marvelled at the intricate cast iron railings and balconies and the graciously arched ground floor windows. She loved architecture, and often wandered around London looking at all the quirky features on the old and new buildings that surrounded her. But today she was a quivering bucket of nerves. Number Four Paulton’s Square was by far the most impressive house she had ever seen, and she could hardly believe that this utterly unspoilt area of London was to be her home for the foreseeable future.

  The heavy door opened, as if by magic - it moved so slowly and smoothly, revealing an old man. His proud carriage was that of a much younger man, though, in old-fashioned livery. He looked down his large, and rather hooked, nose at her dismissively, as if she was something the cat had dragged in. Yet again, Carrie realised just how out of her comfort zone she was going to be here. But, a job was a job, no matter how tough, or out of her element she may feel. She needed the money, and she was determined to make the most of it.

  ‘Hi, I’m Carrie Norman, the agency sent me, Cadwalladers?’ she said, as confidently as she muster.

  ‘You should have come to the back door,’ the butler huffed pretentiously. ‘The front door is for visitors and guests only. Other houses may have dropped their standards in this square, but Baron and Baroness Whitham insist on them being kept here at Number Four. In future, you should only seek admittance at the rear entrance, the one specifically for tradesmen and servants.’ The older man’s haughty demeanour did nothing to help Carrie feel more at ease - and the additional bombshell that she would be working in the household of a peer had her absolutely terrified. She should have asked more questions, researched the Fortescue-Whitham’s before coming to work for them, she rued. Thank God for the internet, she thought. She would very quickly be able to remedy her ignorance, and by morning there would be nothing she didn’t know about the family.

  ‘Mrs Williams, the housekeeper will see you shortly to show you to your room,’ the butler said in his dull monotone, as he marched swiftly across the large hallway. Carrie wasn’t sure if he meant her to follow, and so tentatively she stepped over the threshold, into a cavernous hallway. ‘You will be expected to be ready to start work at 8am sharp tomorrow morning, do not be late. Lord Whitham cannot stand tardiness,’ he finished, dismissively, then swept off down a corridor leading north from the grand hallway Carrie now found herself standing in.

  If she had been impressed by the exterior of this place, it was nothing to how she felt about the interior of this elegant home. Elegant, and tastefully furnished, it was somehow even more daunting than the imposing exterior. Stern eyes looked down upon her from vast canvases, covering every inch of wall space, as far as the eye could see. Intimidated by the collection of ancestors gazing at her, and utterly astounded at the rudeness of the man that had just left her there without introducing himself, Carrie had no way of knowing whether she should stay and wait where she was, or if she was expected to follow him to find Mrs Williams. So much for a warm welcome, she thought wryly, as a shiver passed over her slender frame.

  She stared at the wide sweep of the marble staircase, with its ornately carved oak balustrade and the huge gilt framed portraits - though they may even have been real gold considering where she found herself - of men and women in a range of fashions that stretched from the present day, back to the 17th century, and was tempted to run away. It was hitting home to her the type of family she had come to work for, and she had never felt so ordinary, or out of place in her life. She sincerely hoped that Mrs Williams wasn’t going to be as haughty as the butler. If she was, then Carrie would have to walk straight back out of that door. She couldn’t stay here if there was no-one at all on the staff that she could relate to. She had spent too much of her life alone, even when surrounded by other people.

  Her mind was put at rest swiftly, as a homely looking woman - who reminded her of her Grandmother’s best friend, Myra Barratt the landlady of the B&B back at home - bustled down the corridor that the butler had just swept down. Carrie felt her shoulders immediately relax as the older woman fussed around her, taking her bags, and showing her through to the kitchen, introducing the other staff, and then chivvying her up three flights of a smaller staircase at the back of the house, to her rooms.

  Carrie was stunned to see that live-in here meant that she got a beautiful bedroom, a bathroom, and a lovely little sitting room all to herself. Mrs Williams smiled as she saw the realisation hit her, ‘Oh yes, my lovely, they look after their staff here. Well, in our accommodations anyway. They are a nice family though, a little formal, and definitely not like us normal folk, and I will warn you they can be difficult at times – but they have nothing on Mr Bartholomew,’ she joked.

  ‘The butler?’ Carrie queried.

  ‘Did he not introduce himself again? He was probably very put out that you knocked at the front door, probably made it slip his mind. He’s old, been in service his whole life. His father was the butler for the family before him, and his grandfather was their head gardener at the country estate. He takes his responsibilities to the family very seriously. He is probably an endangered species – the last of the real old-fashioned butlers. Don’t take him to heart, it’s just his way. Like the family, he doesn’t know any other way of behaving.’ Carrie grinned, hearing it put like that it all made perfect sense.

  ‘I’ll leave you to settle in, love, supper will be at 830pm, we eat after Mr Bartholomew has served the family at 7pm. Good luck, and welcome to Number Four.’ Mrs Williams finished with a warm smile and a gently reassuring pat on Carrie’s shoulder. Then she bustled back down the back stairs to her kitchen, as Carrie sank onto her bed completely astounded by everything that had just occurred.

  ********

  As she rose from the breakfast table in the morning, Carrie was more than a little nervous about meeting her patient. S
he had spent the time between her arrival and supper the night before, researching the family on her laptop and had discovered that the Fortescue-Whitham’s were just about the most powerful banking family in Europe. The marriage of Baron Whitham, and Mariella Fortescue had aligned a merchant bank, and an investment bank, ensuring an empire that would be almost indestructible. They catered to only the highest calibre of clients, and were the best-kept secret in the world - the bankers of choice of the truly wealthy. Carrie was to care for the head of the family, Lord Frederick Alfred Whitham III, seventh Baron Witham, who had been incapacitated by a number of strokes in recent years. The staff had told her, over supper the night before, that he had already scared off a number of more highly qualified, and vastly experienced nurses, with his cantankerous ways. Apparently he was an impatient invalid, and didn’t like to accept that he was no longer capable of everything he wanted to achieve.

  Carrie was concerned, but knowing the turbulent nature of her own upbringing she was pretty certain that she could deal with the tantrums. What worried her more was that he would think she was not suitable for the role because of her humble upbringing. But she would have to deal with that if it turned out to be the case. She needed this job, couldn’t bear the thought of returning home a failure. She had to prove her worth first. She headed down the corridor from the kitchen, and at 8am sharp, as she had been directed, she rapped smartly on the door to the ground floor suite that had once been the library, but was now the domicile of the autocratic Lord Whitham.