Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author
ANNE MATHER
Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the
publishing industry, having written over one hundred and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.
This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance
for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful, passionate writing has given.
We are sure you will love them all!
I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.
I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.
These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.
We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is [email protected] and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.
Seen by Candlelight
Anne Mather
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
KAREN STACEY slid out of the driving seat of her small black saloon and slipped her sheepskin overcoat about her shoulders before locking the car door. Shivering slightly in the frosty March air, she crossed the pavement and opened the door of the Georgian-styled cottage which her mother owned in this quiet mews.
Inside all was warmth and light and Karen shrugged appreciatively in the pleasant atmosphere. Liza, her mother’s housekeeper, greeted her warmly, taking her coat and hanging it in the hall closet. Liza had been with her mother since Karen was a child, and yet to Karen, she never seemed to look any older.
With a smile now, Karen asked: “Where is my mother, Liza?”
“In the sitting-room, Miss Karen,” replied Liza, her eyes showing their dislike of Karen’s casual attire. Tight-fitting stretch slacks and a chunky sweater were anathema to Liza. “Must you wear those disgusting trousers, love?” she exclaimed. “They’re hardly suitable for a young lady.”
Liza was terribly old-fashioned. She had never married herself and had always looked on the Stacey children as her own. And with the familiarity of years she invariably spoke her mind. It amused Karen now and she answered:
“Oh, Liza darling, I’ve just left my drawing-board. You can’t possibly expect me to dress up just to come round here. Not when I’ve got to go back and go on working. Besides, slacks are very warm and very fashionable at the moment.”
Liza shrugged, grimacing, and with a chuckle Karen left her to enter the sitting-room. This was the room which overlooked Masewood Mews and was a very pleasant room. The whole cottage was comfortably, if not opulently furnished, and Mrs. Stacey lived here with her younger daughter, Sandra. Karen did not see as much of them as she should, she knew, but her work and the painting she did in her spare time kept her quite busy and besides, this house brought back too many painful memories which were best forgotten.
Her mother was seated at a bureau writing letters when Karen entered the room and she rose to greet her elder daughter. There was little resemblance between them, for Karen was an ash-blonde while her mother’s hair had once been a vivid auburn.
Mrs. Stacey crossed the room and bestowed a kiss on her daughter’s cold cheek. Then she drew back and surveyed her thoroughly.
“It’s good to see you,” said Karen, smiling. “It’s so long since I’ve done so.”
“Yes, darling,” murmured Madeline Stacey absently. “I … er … I didn’t hear you arrive.”
“From your tone on the telephone I assumed a major catastrophe was about to occur,” remarked Karen lightly. “I had visions of your waiting on the doorstep for my arrival. Instead, you seem engrossed with your own thoughts.”
Madeline sighed heavily. “Well, my dear, I must admit I am rather cross with you for neglecting us for so long. We are your only kith and kin, you know. You really ought to care about us.”
“But I do,” exclaimed Karen, guiltily aware of her own indiscretions. “It’s simply that I never seem to have the time. I lead a very full life really, Mother. But anyway, what is there to stop you from visiting me? The apartment is only a stone’s throw away.”
Madeline raised her eyebrows. “My dear Karen, whenever I visit you I find myself thrust to one side like so much rubbish, while you engross yourself in some new design or paint those ghastly abstracts. Alternatively, I’m entertained, but am always conscious that I’m stopping you from getting on. I could hardly say I was made welcome, however unkind that may sound.”
Karen felt uncomfortable. She knew that what her mother had said was partly true, but Madeline’s limited conversation, which was mainly gossip anyway, bored her stiff, and she did prefer to work alone.
“All right, honey,” she agreed now. “You’ve made your point quite thoroughly. Now, what’s your problem? The one that’s hot off the press?”
Madeline indicated that Karen should sit down on a low armchair and turned away slowly. Karen sighed in exasperation. Much as she really loved her mother she knew only too well how