Anne Mather - Season Of Mists

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 mystic-am@msn.comand I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Cover

About the Author 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!

Title Page Season of Mists Anne Mather www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Copyright

THE letters were waiting for her when they got back to the flat.

It had been an awful day. First the blow that Bourne Electronics was about to close, then the call from Matthew’s form-master, asking her to come and see him after school, and now these two letters, postmarked Rothside, and bringing back memories Abby would have rather forgot.

Matthew followed her into the tiny living room of the flat, flicking a glance at the letters in her hand before flinging himself carelessly on to the chintz-covered sofa. He was a tall boy for his age, easily five feet six inches, and already on eye-level terms with his mother, which did not make for easy admonishment. But right now, Abby was more concerned about the reason why Piers should be writing to her after so long than with the latest chapter in her son’s chequered school career. Matthew was a problem child, or at least within the past two years he had become so, and she was rapidly losing faith in her own ability to control him.

It didn’t used to be like that. For ten years they had been close, very close. And then he had discovered that his father was still alive, that contrary to the stories his mother had told him since he was a baby, his father was not dead, and everything had gone wrong from that time on.

Abby had tried to exonerate herself. She had tried to explain that her reasons for keeping his parentage a secret was to save him from the very feelings of rejection he was suffering now, but Matthew had refused to listen. When he learned that she had, in fact, left his father before he was born, he refused to listen to any explanations, blaming her entirely for the breakdown of her marriage.

To begin with, Abby had not forced the issue. She had believed that given time, Matthew would come round, would try to understand, would forgive her. But it hadn’t worked that way. Time had not healed, it had festered, and the deterioration in their relationship—and in Matthew’s school behaviour—could be measured from that date.

But now, the news that unless her son stopped playing truant and started attending lessons with the intention of learning something, she would be asked to remove him from the school, took second place to the need to know why her husband should have written to her. Piers never wrote. From time to time, she had word of him via Aunt Hannah. But since his visit to the hospital after Matthew was born, he had never contacted her direct, and in spite of all the years between, Abby’s fingers shook as she slit the envelope open.

It was strange, she thought, how she could remember his handwriting after so long. But then perhaps not so strange when she considered the long hours she had spent translating his scrawled script into neatly-typed letters and reports. She had enjoyed typing for him, she remembered unwillingly. She had enjoyed the thrill of going to the Manor every morning, and working in the elegant luxury of the library. All the other girls had envied her, working for Piers Roth, who was something of a heart-throb around Rothside and Alnbury. She had basked in the glory of landing such a marvellous job, and when Piers had started to show his attraction to her, she had seen her life developing like some wonderful romantic novel, where she and Piers fell in love, and married, and lived happily ever after …

The letter emerged from its envelope, the paper thick and vellum-bound, bearing the familiar address in the centre of the page at the top.

Dear Abby …

‘Who’s it from?’ Matthew, sprawled on the couch, his closely-cropped fair hair reminding her of pictures she had seen of the inmates of a prison camp, was regarding her with unusual cariosity. Perhaps he had noticed the way her hand was shaking, she thought, moving to the window as if she needed more light. It was something for him to address her without being spoken to first.