All Else Confusion

“And I shall mind very much if you don’t take some interest in me. I’m sorry for behaving like a tyrant because you were lunching with someone. You see, I thought that you might be lonely and I came back prepared to…well, never mind that now.” He tapped her nose very gently with a finger. “And the dark-haired lady, she’s the wife of an old friend of mine. He couldn’t attend the board meeting because he was under the weather, so she brought down some important papers to be signed. He had to sign them, too, so I went back with her to get it done.”

“Thank you for telling me.” She smiled up at him. “Father always says I jump to conclusions. It must be my red hair.”

He let her go and dropped a careless kiss on her bright head. “Then I must take care to remember that, mustn’t I? Shall we have tea?”

Romance readers around the world were sad to note the passing of Betty Neels in June 2001. Her career spanned thirty years, and she continued to write into her ninetieth year. To her millions of fans, Betty epitomized the romance writer, and yet she began writing almost by accident. She had retired from nursing, but her inquiring mind still sought stimulation. Her new career was born when she heard a lady in her local library bemoaning the lack of good romance novels. Betty’s first book, Sister Peters in Amsterdam, was published in 1969, and she eventually completed 134 books. Her novels offer a reassuring warmth that was very much a part of her own personality. She was a wonderful writer, and she will be greatly missed. Her spirit and genuine talent will live on in all her stories.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

THE FOTHERGILLS were out in force; it wasn’t often that they were all home together at the same time. Annis was always there, of course, being the eldest and such a help in running the parish and helping her mother around the house, and contrary to would-be sympathisers, perfectly content with her lot. Mary who came next was in her first year at college and Edward, at seventeen, was in his last term at the public school whose fees had been the cause of much sacrifice on his parents part. James was at the grammar school in a neighbouring town and Emma and Audrey were still at the local church school. So they didn’t see much of each other, because holidays weren’t always exactly the same and they all possessed so many friends that one or other of them was mostly away visiting one or other of them. But just for once the half term holiday had fallen on the same days for all of them, and since the February afternoon was masquerading as spring, they had all elected to go for a walk together.

Annis led the way, a tall, well built girl with glorious red hair and a lovely face. She looked a good deal younger than her twenty-two years and although she was moderately clever, she had an endearing dreaminess, a generous nature and a complete lack of sophistication. She also, on occasion, made no bones about speaking her mind if her feelings had been strongly stirred.

Mary, walking with Audrey a few paces behind her, was slighter and smaller in build and just as pretty in a dark way, while little Audrey, still plump and youthfully awkward, had her elder sister’s red hair and cornflower blue eyes.

Emma and James were together, quarrelling cheerfully about something or other, and Edward brought up the rear, a dark, serious boy who intended to follow in his father’s footsteps.

The church and the Rectory lay at one end of Millbury, the village to which their father had brought his young wife and where they still lived in the early Victorian house which had been considered suitable for the rector in those days, and was still suitable for the Reverend Mr Fothergill, considering the size of his family. Certainly it had a great many rooms, some of them far too large and lofty for comfort, but there was only one bathroom with an old-fashioned bath on clawed feet in its centre, and the hot water system needed a good deal of forbearance, while the kitchen, although cosy and plentifully supplied with cupboards, lacked the amenities considered by most people to be quite necessary nowadays. Mrs Fothergill, a gently placid woman, didn’t complain, for the simple reason that it would have been of no use; with six children to bring up, clothe and feed, there had never been enough money to spare on the house. Her one consolation was that since she had married young, there was the strong possibility that all the children would be nicely settled in time for her to turn her attention to refurbishing it.

Reaching the top of the hill behind the village, Annis turned to look down at her home. From a distance its red brick walls, surrounded by the shrubbery no one had the time to do much about, looked pleasant in the watery sunshine, and beyond it the church’s squat tower stood out against the Wiltshire downs stretching away to more wooded country.