A Heaven on Earth Read online

  A HEAVEN ON EARTH

  BARBARA CARTLAND

  www.barbaracartland.com

  Copyright © 2011 by Cartland Promotions

  First published on the internet in April 2011

  ISBNs

  978-1-908411-80-8 Epub

  978-1-908411-81-5 Prc

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval, without the prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  eBook conversion by M-Y Books

  A HEAVEN ON EARTH

  Phyllis sat down looking very serious.

  “There be all manner of strange things in this old world, especially here in the West Country, that cannot be accounted for, and I’m sure if she does come to you again, Miss Aurora, you will know just what to do.”

  Aurora smiled.

  “Thank you Phyllis, I am sure you are right, that is just what Mama would have said.”

  She paused for a moment to gaze out of the window at the garden, which was still bathed in winter sunlight.

  “What day is it, Phyllis?” she asked. “I have lost all count of time, what with being ill.”

  “It be the sixth of January today, miss, the last day of Christmas.”

  Aurora sat back and recounted all the extraordinary things that had happened to her since her return home on Christmas Eve.

  And now the New Year was already six days old, and there was no knowing what the coming months might bring.

  She thought of the Earl, recalling how animated and happy he had appeared as he rode with them to Hadleigh Hall through the snow.

  And the thrill that had run over her body when he had invited her to dine with him.

  Could it really be the case that she would never feel that wonderful sensation ever again?

  THE BARBARA CARTLAND PINK COLLECTION

  Barbara Cartland was the most prolific bestselling author in the history of the world. She was frequently in the Guinness Book of Records for writing more books in a year than any other living author. In fact her most amazing literary feat was when her publishers asked for more Barbara Cartland romances, she doubled her output from 10 books a year to over 20 books a year, when she was 77.

  She went on writing continuously at this rate for 20 years and wrote her last book at the age of 97, thus completing 400 books between the ages of 77 and 97.

  Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.

  Now the exciting news is that these 160 original unpublished Barbara Cartland books are ready for publication and they will be published by Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the web is the best possible way to reach so many Barbara Cartland readers around the world.

  The 160 books will be published monthly and will be numbered in sequence.

  The series is called the Pink Collection as a tribute to Barbara Cartland whose favourite colour was pink and it became very much her trademark over the years.

  The Barbara Cartland Pink Collection is published only on the internet. Log on to www.barbaracartland.com to find out how you can purchase the books monthly as they are published, and take out a subscription that will ensure that all subsequent editions are delivered to you by mail order to your home.

  If you do not have access to a computer you can write for information about the Pink Collection to the following address :

  BarbaraCartland.com

  Camfield Place

  Hatfield

  Hertfordshire

  AL9 6JE

  United Kingdom

  Telephone: +44 1707 642629

  Fax: +44 1707 663041

  Titles in this series

  These titles are currently available for download. For more information please see the Where to buy page at the end of this book.

  The Cross Of Love

  Love In The Highlands

  Love Finds The Way

  The Castle Of Love

  Love Is Triumphant

  Stars In The Sky

  The Ship Of Love

  A Dangerous Disguise

  Love Became Theirs

  Love Drives In

  Sailing To Love

  The Star Of Love

  Music Is The Soul Of Love

  Love In The East

  Theirs To Eternity

  A Paradise On Earth

  Love Wins In Berlin

  In Search Of Love

  Love Rescues Rosanna

  A Heart In Heaven

  The House Of Happiness

  Royalty Defeated By Love

  The White Witch

  They Sought Love

  Love Is The Reason For Living

  They Found Their Way To Heaven

  Learning To Love

  Journey To Happiness

  A Kiss In The Desert

  The Heart Of Love

  The Richness Of Love

  For Ever And Ever

  An Unexpected Love

  Saved By An Angel

  Touching The Stars

  Seeking Love

  Journey To Love

  The Importance Of Love

  Love By The Lake

  A Dream Come True

  The King Without A Heart

  The Waters Of Love

  Danger To The Duke

  A Perfect Way To Heaven

  Follow Your Heart

  In Hiding

  Rivals For Love

  A Kiss From The Heart

  Lovers In London

  This Way To Heaven

  A Princess Prays

  Mine For Ever

  The Earl’s Revenge

  Love At The Tower

  Ruled By Love

  Love Came From Heaven

  Love And Apollo

  The Keys Of Love

  A Castle Of Dreams

  A Battle Of Brains

  A Change Of Hearts

  It Is Love

  The Triumph Of Love

  Wanted – A Royal Wife

  A Kiss Of Love

  To Heaven With Love

  Pray For Love

  The Marquis Is Trapped

  Hide And Seek For Love

  Hiding from Love

  A Teacher Of Love

  Money Or Love

  The Revelation Is Love

  The Tree Of Love

  The Magnificent Marquis

  The Castle

  The Gates of Paradise

  A Lucky Star

  A Heaven On Earth

  THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND

  Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most famous romantic novelists. With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.

  Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller. Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. In addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA. In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.
/>   Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of Romance’, Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery. Becoming one of Britain's most popular media personalities and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara spoke on radio and television about social and political issues, as well as making many public appearances.

  In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work for humanitarian and charitable causes.

  Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime. Best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and traditional values. But above all, it was Barbara Cartland’s overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her truly unique.

  “Many times I have been asked, ‘does love really make the world go round, Barbara?’ And I always reply,

  ‘it does for me. How about you?’”

  Barbara Cartland

  CHAPTER ONE

  1877

  “I think we are almost there! We’ve just turned off the road!” Aurora cried, as the carriage swung to the right, lurching and swaying.

  “I know that bump in the drive so well. I thought Papa would have fixed it by now.”

  She leapt up in her excitement and peered through the carriage window, but it was very steamed up on this icy December day, so she then pulled it open and cold foggy air came flooding in.

  “Ouch!” called out Phyllis, her maid, shivering as she huddled to the corner of the seat. “You’ll surely freeze us both to death, Miss Aurora!”

  Aurora laughed and pulled up the fur-lined hood of her cloak round her ears.

  “Just let me have the first glimpse of Hadleigh Hall and then I’ll shut the window,” she replied and leant out looking longingly up the drive ahead of them.

  It was almost a mile from the road to The Hall and the tall trees Aurora’s great-grandfather had planted hid the rolling fields and moors from view.

  The carriage rolled swiftly forward, pulled by two powerful grey horses that raced on, eager to return to the stable for their teatime feed.

  Aurora gasped in delight as a graceful deer flitted out from the trees and bounded across the drive.

  Then she felt her heart melt with joy as she saw the twinkling lights of Hadleigh Hall appear around the bend.

  The twisting chimneys and long sloping roof of the old building were silvery with frost and the lights from the windows looked magical through the mist.

  “It’s wonderful to be back,” sighed Aurora, taking pity on Phyllis and shutting the window. “I cannot believe that I have been away for four whole months.”

  “Oh, Miss Aurora,” came in Phyllis. “I can’t wait for a nice cup of tea after all that nasty French coffee.”

  “I’m so sorry, Phyllis, I know how much you hated being stuck in France, but what would I have done at the Finishing School without you?”

  She thought of the imposing square building on the Paris boulevard with its endless polished floors and hard beds for the pupils and the strict teachers who taught her so much about etiquette and manners.

  When Aurora had arrived in France, she spoke only a few words of the language and she had to work so hard at her French, as well as her drawing and music, to satisfy the high standards of the Finishing School.

  It had been such a comfort to have Phyllis with her to chat to in the mornings and after ‘lights out’.

  She did not have to struggle to explain to Phyllis about how she wanted her clothes and her hair to look, as she would have had to do if she had been assigned one of the severe French maids who waited on the other girls.

  The carriage then came to a sudden stop, the wheels crunching over the gravel and after a moment Thomas, the coachman, opened the door.

  Aurora pulled her long cloak around her and taking Thomas’s hand swung herself down to the ground.

  “Merry Christmas!”

  She looked up to see Lady Hartnell, her stepmother, sweep gracefully down the front steps, her grey hair piled high on her head and her purple silk skirts rustling.

  Aurora stood on tiptoe to kiss her stepmother and, as she did so, she could not but notice that the purple of her dress was a little too bright and not quite what the elegant Frenchwomen she had been living with for the last months would have chosen.

  “Where is Papa?” enquired Aurora, as she followed Lady Hartnell into the marble-floored hall.

  “He is resting, my dear. He will see you when he comes down for dinner. Perhaps you should now go and freshen up, you have had a very long journey.”

  She put on her pince-nez to scrutinise Aurora’s face closely, making her feel uncomfortable as she realised that her face must be red and shiny and her hair a mess.

  Her bedroom was aglow with the light from the fire burning merrily in the grate and candles casting a warm glow as they flickered on her dressing table.

  As soon as the footmen had put down her luggage, Aurora rang the bell for the kitchen maid to bring her tea and toast.

  “I know it’s not long for dinner, but I can’t wait,” Aurora muttered, as Phyllis helped her out of her cloak and dress and sat her in front of the mirror to brush the tangles out of her long auburn hair.

  “Nor me, miss. I’m proper parched. My, look how long your hair has grown since we was last here.”

  Aurora gazed at her reflection and took in her thick auburn curls framing her heart-shaped face and large blue eyes.

  There was indeed something different about her and despite the warm childish flush on her cheeks, she realised that the last time she had looked in this mirror, she was still a child and now she was a woman and the thought made her feel strangely excited.

  “Can you put my hair up nicely please, Phyllis?” she asked. “I want to look my best for Papa.”

  There was a knock on the door and the maid came bustling in with a tray jingling with cups, a huge china teapot and a large silver cover over a plate of hot toast.

  “Sit still now or it’ll never be done,” said Phyllis, as she twisted Aurora’s glossy hair into an intricate crown of plaits – the very latest French style.

  Aurora turned to face forwards again so that Phyllis could go to work with her comb and hairpins, pinning long plaits up in a graceful knot at the back of her head.

  It was so good to be home again and in her familiar bedroom with its flowered chintz curtains and pretty white chinaware on the washstand, but Aurora just could not help wishing for something a little bit more exciting.

  Dinner with her Papa and ‘Mama’, as Lady Hartnell insisted on being called, even though she was not Aurora’s real mother, would be a quiet affair.

  Papa would ask endless questions about the school in France with Lady Hartnell adding in her own comments, when she was not moaning about the food and criticising the servants waiting at table.

  Aurora sighed as she thought of the evening ahead. What a contrast it would be to the crowd of chattering girls she had left behind in France.

  At that moment she realised that the time ahead was going to be a quiet and lonely one for her.

  Of course, there was always dear Phyllis, who was always happy to talk away.

  Phyllis had known Aurora since she was a baby and would probably still be around at Hadleigh Hall when she was old with her beautiful auburn curls turned white.

  “There you are Miss Aurora. You’re done and very lovely you are too, prettier than any of them mademoiselles with all their airs and graces!”

  Phyllis then brought over the big white bowl from the washstand and started sponging down Aurora’s neck and arms, which was very refreshing after the long journey.

  When she had finished, Aurora told her to go and help herself to tea and toast.

  �
��Aren’t you havin’ any?” asked Phyllis, lifting the silver cover and sniffing the piping hot toast underneath.

  “I don’t feel hungry after all.”

  Aurora wanted to be quiet for a moment and sip her tea, looking at her reflection in front of the long mirror.

  The longing for something exciting to happen was growing stronger inside her and she knew that although she might miss all the fun of schoolgirl chatter about hairstyles and petticoats, there was no going back.

  ‘I am a woman now,’ she whispered to herself, ‘and a woman needs a man beside her to look after her. I would like to meet someone who cares about me as much as Papa does, but who is there just for me.’

  She felt her face become warm at the thought and sure enough, she could see from her reflection that she had gone pink.

  “Whatever you be a-dreamin’ about, Miss Aurora, you’d better stop,” murmured Phyllis, finishing a mouthful of toast and wiping her hands carefully, before she lifted a beautiful green silk dress from the bed.

  “Thank you, Phyllis,” muttered Aurora glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece her Papa had given her for her twelfth birthday. “It’s nearly time for dinner, I know.”

  The dress was a perfect fit, complemented by touches of pale green lace at the shoulders. At the back was a fashionable bustle covered in matching lace, which made Aurora look even more womanly and grown-up.

  “Here, Miss Aurora – ” Phyllis ran over to the windowsill where a tall red flowered geranium stood proudly in a china pot, and pulled off some of the bright red petals.

  She rubbed the petals between her fingers and went to rub the colour onto Aurora’s lips and cheeks.

  “No!” cried Aurora, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I don’t think Papa would approve.”

  “Why? All girls do it! They used to do it even when I was a girl. I don’t see no harm in it, miss.”

  “Not tonight,”

  Aurora pushed Phyllis gently away, feeling sad that there would be no one at the dinner to appreciate her subtle natural colouring.

  Suddenly there was loud booming crash.

  It was Treginnis, the butler, beating the gong.