Free 100. A Rose In Jeopardy by Barbara Cartland Page B

my dear?” a small voice asked.
    She looked up and could see through her tears that Pickle was watching her from his cage.
    He might only be a bird, but he seemed to know exactly how she was feeling.
    “What shall I do?” she asked him. “I don’t like Mr. Merriman at all – but do you think I should marry him, so that we can – stay here?”
    But Pickle did not have the answer to her question.
    He just put his head on one side and enquired,
    “Is it time for tea?”
    Rosella had not been in her bedroom for more than half an hour, when she heard heavy footfalls on the landing outside.
    Her heart turned over as an angry fist beat loudly on the panels of her door and then it flew open and Lord Brockley strode towards her, his face flushed with rage.
    “Insolent, stupid girl!” he shouted. “What do you mean by refusing Merriman! You agreed that you would obey my wishes.”
    Pickle squealed loudly and fluffed up his feathers.
    “Stop it at once, you naughty boy!” he squawked.
    Lord Brockley’s faced turned an even darker shade of red.
    “Quiet, you little devil!” he screamed back.
    “I did not understand what you meant when we spoke,” Rosella said, and although she was trembling, her words came out clear and strong.
    Lord Brockley’s lips parted in an angry snarl.
    “Let me show you what I mean. Merriman !”
    Algernon then appeared in the doorway, looking flustered and foolish.
    “Show me what you are made of,” his Lordship called out, glaring at him. “Be a man!”
    Algernon stepped forward into the room.
    “Rosella,” he quavered, his voice coming out in a squeak. “You must be my wife.”
    Lord Brockley grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him.
    “ Be a man !” he shouted. “She’s just a foolish girl – make her accept you or it will be the worse for you both.”
    “No!”
    Feeling terrified, Rosella ran to the window, where Pickle’s cage stood. He was flapping his wings in fear.
    “Marry me!” Algernon whined, following her over the room. “You and I – we’ll get along very well here at New Hall, won’t we? And I adore you. How many times must I keep telling you?”
    “I can’t!” Rosella cried. “I don’t want to marry you. I will never marry you!”
    In desperation she looked out of the window.
    It was a long drop to the lead roof of the orangery, which lay below, gleaming wet under the heavy rain.
    Lord Brockley pushed Algernon to one side and came over to face Rosella.
    “I’m warning you, if you don’t do as I wish, you will be very sorry indeed,” he yelled.
    “ Stop it, stop it, stop it ! Be quiet !” Pickle screamed, his voice even louder than Lord Brockley’s.
    His Lordship gave a roar of anger and, seizing the cage, he forced open the window and threw it out.
    There was a crash, as the cage hit the top of the orangery and smashed in two.
    Pickle gave a shriek of fear, then climbed out from his broken cage and flew away into the rain, disappearing into the trees.
    “Oh, no,” Rosella cried. “Come back, Pickle!”
    But the bird was gone.
    Lord Brockley slammed the window shut.
    “Good riddance,” he grunted.
    He took Rosella’s arm in a painful grip.
    “There will be no further nonsense from you,” he said, his tone cold and hard. “You will stay here in your bedroom and you will have no dinner, no luncheon and no breakfast until you come to your senses.”
    He turned to Algernon,
    “And you, sir, will go on repeating your proposal until it is accepted.”
    Rosella was shivering with fear and shock and her voice, which had seemed so strong a few moments ago, seemed to have deserted her.
    Lord Brockley gave her arm a final agonising twist with his strong hand and then, pushing Algernon in front of him, he left Rosella’s bedroom and she heard the ominous click of a key in the lock.
    Shaking, she sat down on her bed.
    Rosella now felt utterly alone and yet she suddenly found herself whispering,
    “Help me, please, please. Help me!”
    She thought