Beyond the Horizon

And even then her manners were not the same as Rosilda had learnt as a child. She had been brought up to talk to the people who worked for one with consideration. - yes!

This was not the time to have feelings for a young woman and he pushed aside the memory of pressing inside his diary the blue orchid from the restaurant that he had taken from the vase on their table. - sweet 💖👏🏻

Rosilda looked around for a carriage, but all that she could see was a string of tired-looking mules cared for by a large villainous-looking man wearing a red bandana around his neck and sporting an unruly black moustache. As she realised that these animals were the means of their travelling higher into the mountains, the man then stepped forward, swept off his battered felt hat and bowed to Marianne. - these poor mules 💔💔💔 treated like trash, often beaten and abused. Never looked after!

She had often ridden a little Fell pony up in the Lake District when she had stayed with her great-aunt for various holidays - i don't understand why people imagine it's ok to treat animals like dirt! Ponies aren't large at all, certainly not suitable for riding by a teenager or adult.

The last few miles of the journey had been really exhausting, the mules slipping and sliding their way down steep rocky paths and zigzagging across the mountainside. - again, using exhausted animals is despicable.

“I think that this was a deliberate attempt on the Princess’ life! She was meant to ride this animal, but you did instead.” He hesitated for a moment before he continued, “The saddle was most probably loosened, knowing that when we reached a slope it would slide and the thorns would dig cruelly into the horse’s flesh, thus causing it to bolt.” - poor horse 💔💔💔

His mind in turmoil, he pulled his wallet from his inside pocket and drew out a piece of folded paper. Inside lay the small blue orchid from where it had been pressed against his heart for all these long days since their dinner together that night in Paris. He raised it to his lips - Dexter seemed like a sweet thoughtful man.

Her horse now stumbled to a halt, its chest heaving with exertion and she patted its steaming neck to encourage it to continue. - this is how animals are exploited and die...

Gathering her courage and wits together, Rosilda slid off her horse and tethered the animal to a bush, which would give it a little protection from the wind. - not good enough.