To Heaven With Love Read online

  TO HEAVEN WITH LOVE

  BARBARA CARTLAND

  www.barbaracartland.com

  Copyright © 2010 by Cartland Promotions

  First published on the internet in March 2010

  ISBNs

  978-1-908411-28-0 Epub

  978-1-908411-29-7 mobi

  978-1-908411-30-3 Pdf

  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

  TO HEAVEN WITH LOVE

  “You will find the wedding gown in that very large trunk over there,” she indicated, hoping that Audrey could not hear her voice trembling.

  The maid opened the trunk, lifted out the long white gown and shook out the folds of silk.

  “I will need to hang it, my Lady, for there are some creases from the packing. Why, whatever is the matter?”

  Dorianna had lost her battle to keep from crying and the tears were running down her cheeks.

  She was so upset that for a while she could not speak.

  “But look, my Lady! No one in the world has ever worn such a beautiful gown as this – ”

  Audrey held up the wedding dress against herself, trying to cheer up Dorianna with its beauty.

  “Look how it will hang when you wear it, you will seem like an angel in white!”

  Dorianna looked up at the young maid, at her pretty heart-shaped face above the white silk of the dress and at her golden hair peeping out from under her cap.

  Audrey would indeed make a lovely bride when her own wedding day came.

  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 :

  Barbara Cartland.com Ltd.

  240 High Road,

  Harrow Weald,

  Harrow

  HA3 7BB

  United Kingdom.

  Telephone & fax: +44 (0)20 8863 2520

  Titles in this series

  These titles are currently available for download.

  1. The Cross Of Love

  2. Love In The Highlands

  3. Love Finds The Way

  4. The Castle Of Love

  5. Love Is Triumphant

  6. Stars In The Sky

  7. The Ship Of Love

  8. A Dangerous Disguise

  9. Love Became Theirs

  10. Love Drives In

  11. Sailing To Love

  12. The Star Of Love

  13. Music Is The Soul Of Love

  14. Love In The East

  15. Theirs To Eternity

  16. A Paradise On Earth

  17. Love Wins In Berlin

  18. In Search Of Love

  19. Love Rescues Rosanna

  20. A Heart In Heaven

  21. The House Of Happiness

  22. Royalty Defeated By Love

  23. The White Witch

  24. They Sought Love

  25. Love Is The Reason For Living

  26. They Found Their Way To Heaven

  27. Learning To Love

  28. Journey To Happiness

  29. A Kiss In The Desert

  30. The Heart Of Love

  31. The Richness Of Love

  32. For Ever And Ever

  33. An Unexpected Love

  34. Saved By An Angel

  35. Touching The Stars

  36. Seeking Love

  37. Journey To Love

  38. The Importance Of Love

  39. Love By The Lake

  40. A Dream Come True

  41. The King Without A Heart

  42. The Waters Of Love

  43. Danger To The Duke

  44. A Perfect Way To Heaven

  45. Follow Your Heart

  46. In Hiding

  47. Rivals For Love

  48. A Kiss From The Heart

  49. Lovers In London

  50. This Way To Heaven

  51. A Princess Prays

  52. Mine For Ever

  53. The Earl’s Revenge

  54. Love At The Tower

  55. Ruled By Love

  56. Love Came From Heaven

  57. Love And Apollo

  58. The Keys Of Love

  59. A Castle Of Dreams

  60. A Battle Of Brains

  61. A Change Of Hearts

  62. It Is Love

  63. The Triumph Of Love

  64. Wanted – A Royal Wife

  65. A Kiss Of Love

  66. To Heaven With Love

  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.

  “When I am in love, I am always in Heaven”

  Barbara Cartland

  CHAPTER ONE

  1894

  Lady Dorianna Dale looked down at the exquisite white silk nightgown trimmed with delicate lace that she held in her hands.

  She had already folded five others of similar beauty and laid them in the large leather trunk, but she had to stop for a moment and hold this one up to her cheek.

  It felt heavenly, so soft and fine.

  ‘I am so lucky,’ mused Dorianna. ‘I have so many beautiful things, I should be the happiest girl in the world!’

  Before she had time to ask herself why she was not feeling in any way happy and why, in fact, her heart was heavy with dread and apprehension, there came a knock at her bedroom door.

  “Come in,” she called out.

  It was Marjorie, her Mama’s elderly maid. Tall and thin with straight greying hair under her white cap, the old woman peered round the door.

  “Her Ladyship sent me to enquire if you wished for some assistance,” said Marjorie, looking at the pile of linen underclothes that lay on the bed, waiting to be packed into the long row of trunks and boxes lined up on the floor.

  Marjorie had been a part of the family for as long as Dorianna could remember.

  By all rights, as a young lady of just eighteen years, Dorianna should have her own maid to look after her, but there had been no money to spare since her Papa had died, and somehow the arrangements had never been made and she was still sharing the faithful Marjorie with her Mama.

  “How kind of you, Marjorie! But look, I am almost finished. There’s only this last trunk to pack.”

  Marjorie was kept exceedingly busy looking after Dorianna’s Mama and had very little spare time, so when Dorianna was still a young girl she had taken care to teach her the skilful art of packing her own trunk, folding all the garments so that when they were unpacked, they emerged looking pristine and fresh without any wrinkles or creases.

  Marjorie now hobbled over to Dorianna and took the nightgown in her work-worn hands that were swollen and twisted with arthritis.

  “This French lace is the best in the world,” she said. “It’s made by nuns, locked up in a Convent. Many months it takes them, so they say. Look how pretty it is, my dear, with those tiny butterflies all over – ”

  She held up the nightgown and shook it out.

  Dorianna looked at the fine lace hanging gracefully around the sleeves and the collar. She had not noticed that there were tiny lace butterflies, which twisted and fluttered through the intricate pattern.

  “They’re lovely, aren’t they?”

  But, as she was looking at the fragile wings of the delicate insects, she could not help thinking they looked as if they were trapped.

  Dorianna shuddered.

  The fine threads of lace were like a cobweb tangled around the little insects, imprisoning them so they would never be free.

  Marjorie handed the nightgown back to her.

  Dorianna swiftly folded it up and laid it inside the trunk, trying not to look at the butterflies again.

  “Just think, my dear,” Marjorie was saying, smiling at Dorianna. “The next time you see that nightgown, you will be a married lady!”

  “Yes, indeed I shall!”

  Dorianna closed the lid of the trunk quickly.

  She struggled to bring a smile to her face, although her heart felt heavy as she added,

  “It’s wonderful – isn’t it?”

  “Your dear Mama, her Ladyship, is so very proud of you!” replied Marjorie, her wrinkled cheeks flushing with excitement. “You’ve made such a good match – ”

  Suddenly Dorianna felt faint and hot.

  She turned away from the old woman and looked out of the window.

  Marjorie chuckled.

  “Oh, bless you, my Lady! I can tell you’re feeling bashful at the thought of it. And quite right, too.”

  “Thank you for coming to see me, Marjorie, but I can manage perfectly well with the packing, and I am sure Mama will be needing you to help her dress for dinner.”

  Marjorie sighed.

  “Yes, indeed. I just don’t know where the hours go these days. But you, my Lady, you have your life before you and all the time in the world to enjoy it!”

  Marjorie made her way to the door.

  Dorianna waited impatiently for her to be gone.

  She felt as if she could not breathe, as if suddenly there was no air at all in her bedroom.

  Outside her window the spring sunshine was now lighting up the new green leaves on the trees in the garden.

  But Dorianna felt shut away from all the beauty and brightness. A strange heavy feeling was seeping through her body, making her feel uncomfortable and afraid.

  The beautiful nightgown had felt so pure and light against her face. Any young girl would be proud to wear it on her honeymoon.

  But Dorianna would be with her new husband, Lord Buxton, when she wore the nightgown.

  And the thought of him being close to her did not make her feel pure and light.

  When Lord Buxton held her hand in his hot sticky clasp, as he had done the night before, her skin prickled with revulsion.

  ‘But why?’ she asked herself. ‘Why am I being so stupid? Just why do I feel like this, when everyone says I am doing the right thing?’

  Somehow she must push the horrible feeling away to the very back of her mind.

  She looked out of her window again, where white clouds piled up like cotton wool in the clear blue sky and little birds were flitting in and out of the treetops.

  The garden at the back of the house sloped down to a winding stream. It was so wild and beautiful with trees, shrubs and ferns growing over shady pathways and lawns.

  Dorianna knew what she must do.

  One by one she pulled the pins out of her long fair hair, so that it tumbled down round her shoulders and then she took off her shoes and stockings.

  No one was about as her Mama and Step-papa were resting before dinner and the servants were busy preparing food and laying the table.

  So nobody saw her as she ran barefoot and silently down the back stairs.

  She tiptoed through the boot room and let herself out by a side door into the back garden.

  The soft warm May wind ruffled through her hair and at once she began to feel better.

  This wild back garden had always been her Papa’s favourite place and often when she was a little girl, he had brought her here.

  Now the garden was very overgrown.

  The grass was uncut and the branches of trees and shrubs hung over the paths.

  But Dorianna did not mind that her feet were wet as she walked through the lush grass or that the rough leaves brushed against her face.

  There was no money to pay for a gardener to take care of these hidden places.

  Dorianna’s Step-papa insisted that the front garden with its clipped hedges and tidy rose bushes should always look perfect, so that any visitors would be impressed by the view of Ashburton Hall, but he did not care about the back garden, which no one except Dorianna ever visited.

  Soon she found herself on the mossy path leading down to the stream.

  Peeping through the ferns were the small statues of woodland creatures that she had loved so much as a child.

  There was a little stone rabbit, crouching low to the ground and a squirrel, sitting up with a nut in its paws.

  There were other statues
, too, amongst the trees.

  At the top of a slope under a tall beech tree a stone man with two little horns pushing out of his curly hair was sitting on a rock.

  “That’s Pan, my darling,” her Papa had explained. “Look, he’s playing his pipes!”

  “Why is he sitting all on his own in the woods?” Dorianna had asked, being just at that age when she asked questions all the time.

  “Pan is the God of all wild things,” he had told her. “He would never be happy inside. He lives here and plays his wild music to the animals and plants.”

  Dorianna now remembered her Papa’s words as she looked up at Pan’s face. His lips were curved into a smile, but his expression was somehow sad and happy at the same time.

  ‘Just like I am today!’ she thought. ‘I don’t know how to feel. I’m unhappy, when I think about what’s going to happen to me, but I can’t help feeling joyful as well, as I always do when I come to this wonderful garden.’

  She ran further down the mossy path to where the trees thinned out around a circular lawn.

  The grass was very long now and grew up almost to the knees of the marble lady in the centre of the lawn.

  She was standing there with her back to Dorianna, her face turned to the side, looking down into the grass.

  “Hello, Aphrodite,” whispered Dorianna.

  The statue wore no clothes, but she modestly held her arms in front of her body. Her white marble flesh was stained green from many years of standing outside in the rain, but Dorianna thought that her long curved limbs and elegant neck were very beautiful.

  Dorianna’s Papa had informed her that Aphrodite was the real Goddess of Love and that the ancient Greeks had all worshipped her.

  ‘I am now going to be married,’ she murmured and reached out to touch the Goddess’s dimpled elbow.

  The marble felt cold and smooth under her fingers.

  “Please, do help me! You are the Goddess of Love. How can I make myself feel love for my husband?”

  Dorianna could not even bring herself to say Lord Buxton’s name out loud. It felt wrong even to think of him in this lovely unspoiled place.