They Touched Heaven Read online

  “I hope you’re not easily shocked, miss,” said Mrs. O’Brien, with obvious relish. “Amelia is not a pretty sight. She tears whatever clothes we give her and will not wash or comb her hair.”

  “I don’t mind,” answered Temia, screwing up her courage. She looked straight ahead and tried not to stare at the pathetic figures they passed.

  “She gives ’erself right airs and graces, that one,” added Mrs. O’Brien. “Makes us call ’er ‘my Lady’!”

  “She is a Lady. Her husband is a Lord.”

  “I ’ad guessed as much that ’e be a toff!”

  Temia felt her blood boiling. Lord Alphonse had enriched himself by cheating her father! How dare he? The last time she saw him he was wearing an expensive suit of clothes and fine kid leather shoes.

  At last they came to a corridor full of doors with grills. A nurse sat at the end on a wooden chair.

  “Mabel, this ’ere lady wants to see Amelia. And ’ow ’as she been today?”

  “In a right rage!” answered Mabel. “Bit me when I takes in ’er breakfast, ’cos I didn’t call ’er ‘my Lady’.”

  “She is often so?” asked Temia, feeling faint. Now she was by the cell, she was not certain that she wished to see what it contained.

  “More often than not, so we lock ’er up.”

  Mabel put the key in the lock and turned it.

  “You stay behind me, miss. She can be real violent around strangers – especially ladies.”

  As the door opened, a dreadful smell hit Temia’s nostrils. It was acrid and took her breath away.

  “Come along on now, my Lady, there be someone ’ere wants to see you,” coaxed Mabel.

  Temia stepped inside the cell and Mrs. O’Brien at once closed the door behind them and stood guard by it.

  Slowly, Temia’s eyes became accustomed to the dim light. What she had taken for a bundle of rags in the corner slowly unfurled itself. Temia saw wild staring eyes, two pools of blue in yellowing whites and straggling hair that must have once been pretty.

  Lady Alphonse’s claw-like hands plucked at her rags.

  “Where is my husband? He will want his dinner and I have not spoken to cook!” she howled.

  Without a warning, she suddenly shot forward and threw herself at Mabel, her hands grasping at her skirts.

  “Let me out! Let me out of here! My husband will kill you all in your beds if you don’t let me out!”

  Temia drew back and stepped on Mrs. O’Brien.

  “See, she’s as mad as a March hare!” Lady Alphonse cocked her head to one side like a bird and then began to cry softly. “Ignatius. Ignatius.” she moaned.

  Temia could not stand to see the woman any longer and she turned to Mrs. O’Brien indicating that she wished to leave. The stench was making her retch and she was overcome with pity for poor Lady Alphonse.

  She felt unsteady on her feet as Mabel and Mrs. O’Brien quickly left the cell too and locked the door.

  Even though the air outside was hardly any sweeter, Temia took in great gulps, as if she had been suffocated.

  “Do you wish to sit down for a while, miss?” asked Mrs. O’Brien. “Them that ain’t used to it feel queer after seein’ an inmate.”

  “To sink to such depths!” murmured Temia. “It is beyond belief!”

  She hesitated and then began to make her way back to Mr. Warren’s Office. It was only sheer force of will that carried her forwards.

  As she rejoined her mother and Mr. Burleigh, she was still shaking.

  “Temia!” cried Lady Brandon. “Darling, you look so pale! Do you need smelling salts?”

  “No, Mama, but I must sit down for a while.”

  “You saw Lady Alphonse?” asked Mr. Burleigh.

  “Yes, I did. The poor soul!” whispered Temia. “Very well, we shall take our leave, then, if you feel well enough – ”

  “Just a moment,” answered Temia, dabbing at her face with her handkerchief.

  “I am sorry you found it so distressing,” continued Mr. Burleigh. “But it is necessary for us to establish Lady Alphonse’s existence. Mr. Warren, I shall require a copy of Lady Alphonse’s admission notes if such a thing exists.”

  “Naturally. We always ask whoever commits the inmate to sign in triplicate. Do you wish to examine the doctor’s note as well?”

  “Yes, that would be useful. They will be returned as soon as the matter is concluded. Thank you for your time, Mr. Warren. Good day.”

  Mr. Burleigh rose from his chair and helped Lady Brandon from hers. Feeling a little steadier, Temia followed them out to the carriage. She could not wait to leave those terrible corridors behind with all their hidden secrets.

  Lady Brandon held onto Temia’s hand tightly as the horses pulled forward while Mr. Burleigh scrutinised the documents.

  They were almost back when he finally spoke,

  “Lady Brandon, I think this is enough to send Lord Alphonse away for a long time. With the Duke’s evidence, and your husband’s, a case can be easily brought against Lord Alphonse. I will draft out the affidavit at once and contact you the moment it has been drawn up. Where will you be staying, Lady Brandon?”

  “I return to Northamptonshire tomorrow morning. I have been away for long enough – my place now is at my husband’s side. I have done what I came to London for.”

  “Very good. I will write and make an appointment for you both to visit me in my Office. I will also contact the Duke and inform him of our discovery. I am sure that he will wish to correspond with you on the matter. May I give him your address?”

  “I will ask my husband first, if you don’t mind. He may be angry that I have gone behind his back and I will need to discuss it all with him.”

  Mr. Burleigh nodded and returned to his reading.

  Eventually the carriage drew up at Mrs. Timms’s house. Temia felt tearful as she knew that she would now be bidding her Mama farewell.

  “Darling, do write to me. Once I have explained to your father what has occurred, I am certain he will wish to welcome you back to Bovendon Hall.”

  “I long to see him, Mama, but the theatre – they need me and I cannot leave them. It’s our opening week and Leo Baker relies upon me.”

  “Then we shall come to London soon and visit you, now kiss me, my dearest child.”

  Her eyes were full of tears as she clasped Temia. “I have not forgotten about Sophia,” she whispered, as Temia began to cry. “I promise I shall do my utmost to speak with your Papa about her and if there is any possible way that a reunion can come to pass, I shall engineer it.”

  “Thank you, Mama! Thank you!” She kissed her Mama’s cheek and alighted from the carriage.

  *

  Temia did not hurry to the theatre that evening. It was almost curtain up when she arrived backstage.

  “Where have you been? Mr. Baker is going mad!” cried Sophia on seeing her wan face.

  “You have forgotten that I was out with Mama this afternoon?” answered Temia, shooting her a look full of hidden meaning.

  “And did you find what you were looking for?”

  “We shall speak of this later,” answered Temia. “’E was ’ere again earlier,” piped up Lily. “Who are you talking about?” asked Temia stiffly.

  “’Im. You know – that Earl of Wentworth!”

  Temia’s stomach lurched as she tried to hide her face in the skirts of the dress she had just retrieved.

  “’E was standin’ outside in the rain when I comes in and asks me where you was. I said you was ill. Well, I didn’t know you was comin’ in today, did I?”

  “Did – did he say anything?”

  “No, ’e just turned around and went – just like that, ’e never says much. I don’t think ’e cares for me!”

  “Is he in the theatre now, Lily?”

  “How should I know? Most likely – ”

  Temia felt sick. What would happen if Sir Thomas attended the performance that evening as well? It had been some nights since he had last visited
the theatre and Temia knew that sooner or later he would appear.

  In spite of herself, she found the prospect of seeing Sir Thomas not unappealing. She enjoyed his company a great deal. It was simply that she was not in love with him. But if she saw him, would he propose again?

  ‘I don’t think I have the heart to refuse him,’ she thought, as the girls rushed off to the stage, ‘yet, I don’t have it in my heart to love him and marry him either.’

  She was still pondering her dilemma when Hobson knocked on the door.

  “Flowers for you, Temia!” “Who left them?” she asked him. “Sir Thomas Babbington,” answered Hobson, “he left them at the stage door not five minutes ago.”

  Temia took the flowers and read the card.

  “Say you’ll have supper with me, I will be waiting.” “Hobson,” she called him back. “please don’t admit anyone for me backstage tonight. I believe you know who I am referring to?”

  “Them toffs?”

  “Yes, if you would.”

  “I’ll do me best!” During the interval, Hobson returned once more to the dressing room carrying a small box.

  “For you,” he smirked.

  “The Earl?” she asked, with her voice shaking.

  “The very same.”

  Temia opened the box and found inside a beautiful pink orchid along with a note.

  “Meet me after the show,” was all it said.

  She felt sick with nerves by the time that the show reached its conclusion. If both of them were waiting for her, she was sure that an argument would ensue. Could she prevent it?

  “I can see your admirers are out in force tonight,” commented Sophia, as she changed into her street clothes.

  “Yes, and I don’t know which way to turn. They have both asked me to dine with them and sent flowers!”

  “Lord, that will cause a row! What will you do?”

  “I shall remain here until they have gone and I have told Hobson not to let them in under any circumstances.”

  “Very well, I will wait with you,” smiled Sophia.

  They sat side-by-side for half an hour and then, Temia stood up.

  “I cannot stay here all evening!” she groaned.

  “Then, you will have to go out and face them both. I expect they’ll still be here!”

  Temia was not looking forward to confronting the two of them, but she knew that Sophia was right. Picking up her cloak, she put on her hat and then her gloves as slowly as possible. Finally, she was ready.

  “I will leave these lovely flowers – ” “Come, take my hand,” urged Sophia.

  Temia took a deep breath and the two girls left the dressing room.

  As soon as they reached the corridor that led out of the theatre, Temia could hear raised voices outside.

  “Oh! Oh!” she sighed, stopping by the stage door.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I should interfere,” said Hobson with a worried look. “They’ve been arguing like the blazes for the last ten minutes.”

  Sophia squeezed Temia’s hand and then turned the handle on the stage door. As it opened, Temia could see that both men were standing tensely facing each other. Their lips were curled in anger and the Earl resembled a coiled spring.

  “Repeat what you just said!” he screamed with his face just inches away from Sir Thomas’s.

  “I said, you are not the man you once were.”

  Neither men had heard the stage door open and they continued to hurl insults at each other. Temia winced at the ferocity of their words. She wanted to cry out and fling herself between them, but the pressure of Sophia’s arm restrained her.

  “Take that back!” snarled the Earl, “you snivelling excuse for a man!”

  “How dare you call me that!” snapped Sir Thomas. “Look at yourself. Just what have you become? The old Wentworth would never stoop to stealing his best friend’s sweetheart!”

  The Earl’s eyes flashed with rage. It was as if a hot mist was clouding his judgement. Tearing one of his white gloves from his waistcoat pocket, he hit Sir Thomas full in the face with it.

  “There is only one way to settle this, Babbington!” he snarled, in a voice that made Temia’s blood freeze, “and that is the old-fashioned way – and to the death! May the best man win!”

  “No! No!” cried Temia, as the Earl strode off to his waiting carriage. “You must not! You must not!”

  “Temia!” Sir Thomas’s face was smarting from the blow and a livid red mark was appearing on his cheek.

  Seeing the Earl climb into his carriage, Temia’s instinct was to run after him, but she was now frightened of him. She had never seen him so angry and did not wish him to turn on her.

  “Temia, go home!” urged Sir Thomas in a tone like ice. His eyes glittered and his breath came in short bursts. “But Thomas – ”

  “This is men’s business. I tell you again, go home. Sophia, take her from this place. I have a matter of honour to settle before I can claim you for my own.”

  “Thomas, please don’t fight a duel with the Earl – he is your friend.”

  “Was. Now go. Sophia, you take Temia away at once! I shall send word as soon as all this is concluded.”

  His harsh tone shocked her. Sophia nodded mutely and led a weeping Temia away. “They’ll not duel,” she said calmly, as they walked quickly to their lodgings. “Two important gentlemen like that. They would not break the law. I’ll wager that as soon as they reach the Park, they will come to their senses and shake hands.”

  “No, they will not,” answered Temia, as they let themselves in. “I have never seen Thomas lose his temper as he did this evening and the things they screamed at each other – ”

  Sophia knocked on Mrs. Timms’s door and asked if she might have a nip of brandy to give to Temia.

  “She has had a terrible shock,” she explained, as the landlady brought out a bottle and poured out a small glass.

  The two girls sat up waiting for hours. Temia stopped crying and instead remained mute and numb. The clock on the mantelpiece showed half-past two and still there was no word.

  Temia had intended to tell Sophia that her mother had agreed to her meeting their father, but she could not form the words. Although important, her thoughts were consumed with the Earl. Would he be killed or would he kill Thomas?

  Would the Police arrest them – perhaps they were already locked up in jail! How she loved him!

  A thousand thoughts whirled through her mind and she felt quite dizzy from them.

  She was just nodding off when there came a loud rapping on the front door. Both Sophia and Temia jumped and then froze.

  “The messenger,” whispered Sophia.

  Temia was unable to speak. She held the coverlet of the bed in her hands and waited for the knock on their own door that would inevitably follow.

  They heard the sound of Mrs. Timms speaking in a low voice and then her heavy footsteps on the stairs.

  Clinging to each other, they waited for the knock.

  When it came, Sophia leapt up to answer it.

  “There is a messenger here for Miss Morris.”

  With beating heart, Temia rose from the bed and, taking up her candle, walked towards the door.

  “Shall I come with you?” asked Sophia.

  “No, wait here.” As she walked down the stairs, she could not help but tremble. Standing in the door she could see the slight figure of the messenger.

  But was it the Earl or Sir Thomas who sent him?

  She approached the messenger at the door. Seeing her come towards him, he tipped his hat.

  “Miss Morris?” he said, stepping forward.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Miss Morris?” asked the messenger again.

  Temia wondered again who had sent him.

  “Yes,” she answered, her mouth dry and the word almost shrivelling on her lips.

  “I have been sent by the Earl of Wentworth, miss. He says to tell you that it went ill for the other party and that he does not wish to see
anybody. He said you would understand the message.”

  Temia felt her head spinning and a swoon coming over her. She clutched at the door and tried to compose herself as best she could.

  “Was there any more to the message?” she asked, pulling the shawl around her tighter.

  “I’m afraid not, miss.”

  “Thank you,” she replied and closed the door.

  A low wail emerged from her mouth. She felt overcome with guilt and grief – it was all her fault! If she had told Sir Thomas that she did not love him and that her heart belonged to another, then this would not have happened.

  Mrs. Timms, disturbed by the noise, came from her room to find Temia, crouched on the floor sobbing.

  “Miss Temia!” she cried, putting her arm around her. “Whatever can the matter be?”

  At the same moment, Sophia came hurrying down the stairs towards them.

  “Temia. Temia! What is the news?” “Poor thing, she has had a shock. Just look at her! exclaimed Mrs. Timms, “do you know what the messenger might have said? We’ll take her into my parlour. Come along, Temia. I shall make you some hot milk.”

  She and Sophia helped Temia her into the parlour. Mrs. Timms lit two candles and while Sophia was making Temia comfortable on the sofa, she opened a glass-fronted cabinet and produced a bottle of brandy.

  “Now, you wait here, Miss Sophia, while I run to the kitchen to heat up some milk.”

  As soon as she had gone, Sophia knelt by Temia.

  “What has happened?” she asked her in a whisper. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Sir Thomas! The boy did not know any more than that. He was the Earl’s messenger.”

  Sophia gave a sharp intake of breath and then said,

  “Poor Sir Thomas. Is he – ?”

  “I cannot be sure, but if he was, I would imagine that the message would have been worded in such a way as to leave me in no doubt. Oh, Sophia – it’s all my fault!”

  “You must not think that, dearest.” “Then, whose is it?”

  “Temia, you did not ask them to fight over you, let alone engage in a duel. That Earl’s temper is so quick!”

  “But Thomas did not attempt to stop the argument. His is the voice of reason when the Earl loses his temper.”

  “But he loves you dearly, Temia, and did not want to lose you. Were not his last words to you that he would come and claim you for his own?”