This Way to Heaven Read online

  But to her horror it just swung open under her fists and she stepped into the dark cavernous hall. There was only one small oil lamp burning on a side table throwing out a tiny circle of light.

  “Hallo there!” she called, but her voice echoed off the great stone walls and there was no reply.

  The suits of armour and ranks of swords and spears glinted in the weak light and far above her head the wind whistled through an open window.

  Jasmina could not understand why no one came to answer her call and then the realisation struck home.

  Of course, all the servants would be out searching for the kidnapped Earl!

  The castle, which did not boast a large staff because of its Master’s solitary existence, was completely empty.

  She was about to pick up the oil lamp and head for the kitchen when she heard sounds on the steps outside.

  There was no time for the lamp.

  She ran across the darkened hall towards the stairs that vanished up into the blackness above.

  She knew that whoever was following her was not a friend and she also knew that she had never been so close to death before.

  ‘Oh, Richard, if only you were here with me,’ she whispered. ‘I am so scared. So alone.’

  Gasping for breath and shivering with the cold, she reached the top landing and stared around in desperation.

  Where on earth could she hide these vital papers where they would not easily be found?

  “It’s no good you running any longer, dear lady,” came a smooth and accented voice from the hall below. “There is nowhere in this castle where you will be safe from me.”

  “What do you want?” she shouted back defiantly.

  “You know perfectly well what I am wanting, dear madam. Just throw down the papers you are safeguarding and I will leave and no one will get hurt.”

  “Never! They belong to Lord Somerton and I shall never give them to you!”

  “And where is your precious Earl at this moment, may I ask? Is he rushing wildly to your aid? No, indeed! He is my prisoner, Miss Winfield. He is quite unable to help you!”

  Jasmina backed her way along the dark corridor that stretched between two of the castle turrets.

  The bearded man was now at the top of the stairs, walking slowly but inexorably towards her. His voice was smooth as silk, but a silk that covered a wicked blade.

  “Why are you fighting against me, Miss Winfield? You are not an English lady; you hold no allegiance to the Government of this country.

  “Why, it is not so many years ago that America fought the British for their independence. So why not just hand over all the documents? Then you can go home and forget about this unhappy event.”

  She backed further away from him towards the end of the corridor, stumbling in the dark over some broken wood that lay on the floor.

  She had no idea of her exact whereabouts and the castle seemed so very big and empty.

  The man came even closer, his dark eyes glittering.

  “You just cannot win, Miss Winfield,” he snarled in his strange accent. “Now hand over the documents to me at once!”

  Jasmina glanced around.

  There was a small door behind her and she tried to open it, but it was jammed tight and her hands were too cold to force it open.

  So now there was nowhere left to run.

  She turned and raised her head in proud defiance as the man stepped in front of her.

  She was from the United States of America and her people never gave in to tyrants.

  “No never! You will have to take them from me,” she shouted out at him.

  The man sounded angry and puzzled.

  “Why are you doing this? You are putting your life in danger – for why? What can this Earl of Somerton be to you?”

  Jasmina felt a thrill run through her.

  She was now about to die, but at least she would die proclaiming her deepest feelings for the man she loved so much.

  “To me he is the dearest man in all the world,” she retorted firmly, the passion in her voice making even the kidnapper hesitate.

  “I would do anything in my power to help him. He is such a wonderful man, but to me he is not just the Earl of Somerton, marvellous as his ancient title is. He is simply Richard – the man I love with all my heart and all my soul.

  “And if I am about to die, then I will make my way to God above knowing that I have experienced the greatest happiness any woman could find – loving a good man.”

  She paused, thinking she could hear a noise in the hall below. Heart still beating fiercely, she placed a hand on the railings and glanced down.

  “Richard!”

  “Jasmina, my love!”

  The Earl raced across the hall from the front door.

  “Don’t you dare touch her, you fiend. Let her go!”

  But he was too late.

  The foreigner darted forward as Jasmina turned, clutching at her with violent hands.

  But she managed to pull the papers from inside her jacket and with the last ounce of her strength, hurled them over the railings into the hall beneath.

  Jasmina heard the man curse her viciously, heard herself call out Richard’s name once more, then everything became a blur.

  She was aware of something small and white flying out of an adjacent door and flinging itself into the melee, of struggling to escape the man’s clutches, falling against the railings and the terrible cracking noise they made as they gave way.

  In the dark she managed to pull herself away from the man and fought to keep her balance as he tripped, lost his balance and vanished without a sound, hurtling to his doom on the stone floor below.

  Then she was falling too!

  She heard the Earl shout out in terror.

  Her fingers somehow managed to catch the edge of the floorboards and she hung there swinging, looking up into the horrified face of dear little Florence, whose white cotton nightgown had been the flying shape she had seen erupt from the door that she realised led to the servants’ quarters.

  “Madam! Madam! Take my hand, quickly.”

  Jasmina gasped and looked up at the hand held out to her. It was roughened and reddened by housework and very small.

  She knew in an instant that if she took it, Florence would not be strong enough to pull her up.

  No, she would only drag her over the edge and they would both plummet to the stone floor beneath them.

  “No – listen, Florence, stand back from the edge! It isn’t safe.”

  She realised that she could not hold on, but before she could even send out her last prayer, Florence was whisked away and the face of the Earl appeared in the gap caused by the broken railings.

  “Jasmina, my dearest.”

  “Richard!”

  “Listen, sweetheart. I can pull you up, but when I take hold of your arm, you must let go of the floorboards, otherwise I cannot do it.”

  Jasmina glanced up into the dark eyes she loved so much.

  She could feel her feet kicking in the open space and recognised that her frozen fingers would not be able to grip the wooden edge for much longer.

  “Do you trust me, Jasmina?” urged the Earl, lying flat on the ground and reaching down with both hands.

  “With all my heart and soul!”

  His fingers closed round the soft flesh of her arms where the jacket sleeves had fallen back.

  “Now! Let go!”

  For a long second Jasmina could not move.

  The Earl’s dark and passionate gaze met the blazing love in her blue eyes.

  What she saw in his look made her heart sing with joy and, without another moment’s hesitation, she let go of the wooden edge and hung, suspended for a split second from his grasp until with all the strength in his being he pulled her slowly but surely to safety.

  CHAPTER TEN

  An hour later Somerton Castle was in uproar with a constant line of people arriving and departing.

  A roaring fire was blazing in the drawing room and
Mrs. Rush was bustling around the kitchen, issuing orders in all directions, providing hot drinks, soup, beer and huge portions of cake and pie to the chattering staff and those villagers who had braved the frozen lake to search for the kidnapped Earl.

  Jasmina had been rushed into a hot bath by one of the maids. She had not had any chance to see what was happening in the Great Hall or speak to the Earl after he had pulled her to safety.

  Dressed in a heavy velvet wrap she braided her hair into one thick golden plait that hung down her back and made her look incredibly young.

  She made her way down the back stairs as the local Constable and his men were still busy in the Great Hall.

  With a weary sigh she sank deep into a low chair in front of the fire.

  She realised from a faint light glimmering through a gap in the curtains that it must be almost dawn, but she could not go to bed until she had seen the Earl.

  The door opened and the Earl entered, his hair still wet from his bath.

  He was wearing a white shirt, open at the neck, and an old pair of trousers.

  Swiftly he ran across the room, caught Jasmina’s hands in his and drew her to her feet.

  Without saying a word he dropped a kiss on each finger.

  “You are – safe!” he sighed at last with a choke.

  Jasmina smiled up at him, her blue eyes shining in the firelight.

  “Safe and sound, my Lord.”

  “Richard! We agreed on that and after all we have shared, I could never call you ‘Miss Winfield’ again!”

  A little shudder ran through her as the memory of hanging over the edge of the gallery surged back into her mind.

  “That man – ?” she began.

  He took hold of her shoulders and looked intently into her face.

  “Listen, Jasmina, he is dead. They have taken his body away and the other two criminals have been arrested. They cannot hurt anyone again.”

  “He would have killed me to get the papers and – oh, Richard – what about Florence? She was so brave!”

  The Earl smiled at her tenderly. It was just so like his wonderful girl to think of a lowly maid before herself.

  “Florence, I am reliably told, is safely tucked up in bed once again. She had apparently been given a tot of brandy in hot milk earlier because her leg was painful. So she was fast asleep and missed all the excitement when I was taken away. When she woke, she crept down the back stairs and realised that you were in grave danger.”

  Jasmina smiled tremulously, remembering the way the small figure in a long white nightgown had flung itself at the bearded stranger.

  “I must find a way of repaying her for her bravery. She did not need to put herself in such danger. I will think of a fitting reward for her courage.”

  “Talking of courage,” said the Earl, playing with the end of the thick braid that lay across her shoulder, “I cannot begin to thank you for what you have done tonight both for me and for England.”

  “I don’t any need thanks! I was determined to find you and help as best I could. Everyone played their part.”

  The Earl tilted her face up to his so he could gaze into the depth of the blue eyes he loved so much.

  “If anything had happened to you, Jasmina – if you should have been killed or injured, then I would not have wanted to have gone on living myself!”

  “Richard – ”

  “No, listen to me, sweetheart. My feelings for you have grown deeper and deeper as the days have passed. Jasmina, please, please tell me that you don’t think me a completely hopeless case and that you have some small tenderness towards me besides that of a good guest for her host?”

  Jasmina reached up to push the dark unruly hair off his forehead.

  “Richard! You have had my heart for many a day now. Surely you know that?”

  With a little gasp he bent his head and kissed her tenderly and Jasmina felt herself fly up to Heaven with the sheer joy of his kiss.

  Then suddenly there was a knock at the door and the Earl cursed under his breath.

  Henry appeared, announcing that the Constable was still in the hall wishing to speak to the Earl.

  “I will come down in a moment,” he snapped.

  “He is most insistent, my Lord,” Henry responded apologetically. “He has the other two villains in custody and now needs your instructions as to how to proceed.”

  The Earl sighed and smiled down at Jasmina who had sunk back into her chair.

  “My night’s work is not over, you see. Forgive me. I must go. We will talk again in the morning when we have both had a good sleep! Things should be more settled by then.”

  And with a brief nod he was gone.

  *

  When Jasmina woke up, hours later, she was warm and cosy under her soft blankets and fine silk sheets.

  She yawned and stretched luxuriously.

  She had been having the most fabulous dream – she had been dancing with the Earl, his arms around her and they were wonderfully, wonderfully happy!

  The light streaming through the curtains was bright and sunny.

  “Goodness, how late is it?” she exclaimed and as if in answer to her question, there was a knock at the door and Mary came in.

  “Mary! How good to see you. Are you all right? Not injured in any way?”

  The housekeeper smiled gravely at her.

  “Thank you, I am in good health, madam. Just so relieved that all has ended well and look, one of the village children found this package in the woods and brought it up to the castle. I do believe it is your passport and travel documents, madam!”

  “Oh, that is good news indeed.”

  Jasmina threw back the bedclothes and pulling on her robe hurried to the window.

  “Why, it must now be the afternoon,” she declared. “You should not have let me sleep so long.”

  “I am afraid we are all at sixes and sevens today, Miss Winfield. As you can see, a thaw set in a couple of hours ago. The ice is already thinning on the lake.”

  “I must dress at once,” said Jasmina. “I do hope the Earl has not waited to have a meal with me.”

  Mary stopped tidying the room and frowned.

  “Oh, the Earl is not at Somerton at the moment.”

  Jasmina stared at her.

  “Not at Somerton?”

  “Why, no. The telephone lines were repaired this morning and there was an urgent call from London for him. He left immediately.”

  Jasmina tried not to let her disappointment show.

  She sank down in front of the dressing table mirror and began to unbraid her hair, her fingers running over the locks that the Earl had touched so tenderly the night before.

  “To London?”

  Mary nodded, worried that all the life and joy had vanished from Jasmina’s face.

  “Yes. Word came that the way over the moors to Debbingford is passable. He left as soon as he could pack. I believe those documents that those dreadful men were so keen to steal had to be in London immediately.”

  “Of course. But he will return – when?”

  The housekeeper hesitated.

  “Why, I don’t know, madam, but I am sure he will not stay in the City a moment longer than he has to.”

  “Did he give no indication of when he would return or leave a note for me?”

  Mary heard the strained wistful tone in her voice, but reluctantly had to say,

  “No, madam. There was no note.”

  Mary hesitated at the doorway. Along with the rest of the staff and her own sweetheart, George Radford, she was convinced that the Earl had strong feelings for Jasmina Winfield.

  He had become a different man since the American girl’s arrival at Somerton.

  Gone was the gloomy and despondent air that had surrounded him since the death of his wife.

  Everyone in the castle had noted the change in him and there was no one who was not pleased and delighted.

  So were they engaged? Surely an announcement would have been made if they were.
r />   “Is there anything else, madam?”

  Jasmina fought back her tears.

  “No, thank you, Mary. I shall be down directly, as soon as I have dressed.”

  When she had left the room, Jasmina stared at her reflection in the mirror.

  What a fool she was!

  What had she been thinking!

  That the Earl of Somerton, an English aristocrat of ancient lineage, who could marry into the highest circles of Society, would propose marriage to a girl he had just met?

  How ridiculous!

  Everything he had said to her the night before had probably been said in the heat of the moment in relief at his rescue and that she had helped save his precious papers.

  ‘I accept that he himself had to carry the documents to London, but surely he would never have left without a word to me if his feelings had been as strong as my own?’ she whispered to herself, wiping the tears from her cheeks with fingers that shook with emotion.

  No, all she could imagine was that in the cold light of day, he had used the excuse of a long journey, far away from Somerton, to bring to an end the difficult relationship he could see he had brought about.

  ‘No note! Nothing at all! Well, that does tell me everything,’ Jasmina thought grimly and dressed as fast as she could.

  Mary was attempting to bring some sort of order to the Great Hall as she ran down the stairs.

  Maids and footmen were clearing away the remains of the broken railings and washing and scrubbing the grey flagstones.

  Mary looked up in surprise.

  It had only seemed minutes since she had spoken to Miss Winfield and here she was dressed, ready to –

  “You are going riding, madam?” she asked in astonishment, taking in the muddy leather trousers Jasmina had been wearing the day before.

  “Indeed, Mary. I imagine my horse, Lightning, has been stabled overnight at the castle. That – ” she glanced at the place where the bearded kidnapper had fallen – “man was riding him, I know he was.”

  “Yes, George found your horse tethered outside and one of the young grooms took care of him. But, Miss Winfield, where are you going now?”

  Jasmina turned a bright forced smile on her.

  “Why, to stay with my relations at the Parsonage in Debbingford, of course. It will soon be Christmas and they are expecting me to stay with them for the festivities. I will be grateful if you would arrange for my heavy luggage to be sent over by carrier immediately. I shall take just my small travel bag with me.”