A Heaven on Earth Page 12

  And hot tears filled her eyes, because she could not get the image of his strong handsome face out of her mind.

  Suddenly she caught a movement in the corner of the room and saw a tall figure in a grey crinoline dress with an old-fashioned billowing skirt standing there.

  Aurora caught her breath, as she had not been aware that there was anyone else in the parlour.

  “I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I did not see you there. Who are you?”

  The figure turned towards her.

  It was a young woman with long fair hair looped back over her ears.

  She moved silently towards the fireplace and then sat down opposite Aurora and bent over putting her head in her hands.

  Aurora’s ears were ringing and her pulses racing, so that she wondered for a moment if she was going to be ill again.

  But the strange sensation she was feeling seemed in some way to be connected to the young woman in the old-fashioned dress.

  “Are you all right?” she asked her, for the young woman seemed to be distressed.

  She looked up and stared at Aurora with her wide grey eyes.

  She did not open her mouth, but Aurora seemed to hear a voice ringing in her ears.

  ‘He does not come. I wait and wait and the one I love does not come.’

  The voice echoed round inside Aurora’s head and her vision blurred, as the parlour grew dark and disappeared as she fell into a deep faint.

  When Aurora awoke from her faint, she was lying in her bed and Miss Morris was leaning over her, her soft face creased with anxiety.

  “My poor dear,” she began gently, “you should not have got up so soon, you are still very unwell.”

  Aurora sat up, propping herself on her pillows.

  Her head felt clear and the sadness round her heart had melted away, leaving her feeling much stronger and brighter.

  “Please don’t trouble yourself, dear Miss Morris, I am really much better. I was just very surprised to see the other lady in your parlour. I was not expecting to meet her – and it was rather a shock.”

  Miss Morris shook her head.

  “I don’t know who you are referring to – I have had no visitors today.”

  “Oh, but she came over and spoke to me. A very pretty woman with fair hair tied back and wearing a grey dress – ”

  Miss Morris’s face was normally pale, but now she turned as white as marble.

  “What – what did she say to you?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  “I think she said ‘he does not come – the one I love does not come – ’ She seemed to be very upset and I was about to comfort her when I fainted.”

  “Oh dear!”

  Miss Morris pulled out her handkerchief and held it over her mouth to hide her trembling lips.

  “It is Emily! Oh dear!”

  “Who is Emily?” Aurora asked her, reaching out to take Miss Morris’s hand.

  “She is – she was – my dear elder sister. You have described her exactly.”

  Aurora felt a strange chill pass through her body.

  “Has Emily – passed away?”

  “Oh yes, my dear!”

  She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.

  “We lost her fifteen years ago, poor soul. And yet I often feel that she is still with me lingering in all the places she loved.”

  Aurora sat up and was about to put her arms around Miss Morris, but she moved back, as if she did not want to be comforted.

  “Dear Emily,” she was saying, “she did suffer so. She was betrothed, but her beloved Frederick died of his wounds out in the Crimea and after that she took no joy in life at all. She slowly lost her mind and I could not make her understand that he would not return.”

  “It is terrible to lose the one you love,” said Aurora, feeling her own eyes watering.

  “That is so,” agreed Miss Morris, wiping away her tears and sitting up straight again on her bedside chair.

  “And perhaps I am fortunate in my spinsterhood, as I have never had to suffer that terrible pain of loss.”

  Aurora did not know what to say.

  Although it hurt her terribly to think that she would never see the Earl again, at least she had the memory of him and, even though it was painful, she could still feel the thrill of his presence when she recalled the sound of his voice and the look in his eyes.

  Miss Morris was getting up to leave her, saying that Aurora must sleep soundly to recover her strength after her faint.

  “You are still very weak and I am sure that is why you have been troubled by this vision. I will send for Mr. Bramley tomorrow morning and he will be able to give us some spiritual advice on the matter.”

  And again Aurora noticed sadness creep into Miss Morris’s grey eyes.

  ‘Oh, Mama,’ she whispered, as she lay back against the soft feather pillows, ‘I think there is something I must do here. This sadness is so very strong, but it feels like the unhappiness at Valley Farm. So do please help me, Mama, for I don’t quite know what it is I should do – ”

  A feeling of gentle warmth ran through her veins and she seemed to hear a soft voice whisper to her,

  ‘All will be well, and when the time comes, you will know what you must do.’

  Aurora sighed deeply.

  She felt the tension and weariness dissolve from her body as she relaxed into a deep and healing sleep.

  *

  Next day the winter sun was shining in through the little diamond-paned window in her bedroom when Aurora awoke.

  A tray of tea and toast lay on the bedside table and she realised she must have slept well past breakfast time.

  She jumped out of bed, snatching a piece of toast to nibble on and went over to the window.

  ‘I am now completely recovered,’ she thought, ‘my strength has come back.’

  Miss Morris’s garden was planted with all kinds of old-fashioned herbs and bushes.

  There were no flowers, as it was still deep winter, but the plants were all trimmed into neat shapes and gave an impression of great peace and harmony.

  Aurora saw a short slightly bowed man dressed in black approaching the garden gate.

  ‘That must be Mr. Bramley, the Vicar,’ she surmised. ‘I must dress and go down.’

  And she called for Phyllis to help her.

  “I am so much better,” she told her. “I feel I could run a mile!”

  “Now that would be foolishness indeed,” muttered Phyllis, as she fastened up the back of her dress. “And I for one would not be comin’ with you.”

  When Aurora arrived downstairs, Mr. Bramley was seated in the parlour with Miss Morris, who was pouring coffee from an old silver pot.

  He had a round red face, which reminded Aurora of a wrinkled apple with white hair as soft as thistledown.

  ‘How kind he looks,’ she decided, as he rose from his chair to greet her.

  “Miss Hartnell.” Mr. Bramley took her hand in his. “I am delighted to meet you. You are from Hadleigh Hall in Dorset, I believe. By a strange coincidence, my cousin, Arthur, is Chaplain to the Earl of Linford, whose castle I believe, is just a short ride away from Hadleigh Hall.”

  Aurora looked away, feeling her knees grow weak at the mere mention of the Earl’s name.

  Mr. Bramley released her hand and helped her to a chair.

  Miss Morris told him about Aurora’s illness and all about the episode the day before.

  “Poor child, she seemed to see a vision of my sister Emily now long deceased, which must have been brought on by her weakness.”

  Mr. Bramley turned to Aurora.

  “Were you very frightened by this, my dear?”

  “No, I felt very sad but not frightened,” she replied, looking into Mr. Bramley’s kind blue eyes. “You see, this has happened to me before and I think it is something that happened to my Mama too.”

  She told Mr. Bramley of her experience with Ivy at Valley Farm and added,

  “Sometimes, I believe, a person’s spirit may linge
r, and not be able to move on – ”

  Mr. Bramley looked concerned.

  “You paint a tragic picture, my dear, and indeed it is possible that a soul might remain earthbound and not be able to experience the miracle of Divine Love.”

  Miss Morris was holding her handkerchief over her face and looking distressed.

  “I don’t like to think of my sister – being trapped here,” she mumbled.

  “We shall pray for her, Miss Morris,” Mr. Bramley assured her “and I am sure that all will be well.

  “And as for you, Miss Hartnell, let’s hope that there will be no more manifestations like this, as I don’t wish you to be upset in any way after you have been so poorly.”

  Aurora thanked him for his kindness and went back upstairs to her bedroom deep in thought.

  Phyllis was tidying the room, arranging the few odd clothes Aurora had brought with her in the wardrobe.

  “A penny for your thoughts, miss,” she asked, as Aurora sat down by the fire that burned in the little grate.

  Aurora told her about how Emily had appeared to her in the parlour and her meeting with Mr. Bramley.

  “He says we should pray for Emily and, of course, I will do so. But what should I do if I see her again? She is so very sad – ”

  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?

  *

  That evening after dinner was over, Aurora offered to help Miss Morris take down the garlands of greenery that had hung all around the house since the Christmas festivities.

  It was easier for her, being younger and more agile, to reach the higher decorations.

  As she balanced on a stool and reached up over the fireguard to take down a long festoon of holly and ivy from the mantelpiece in the parlour, she heard a small rustle, like a silk petticoat brushing over the floorboards, coming from behind her.

  Her heart leapt in her breast and in her alarm she pricked her finger on a sharp holly leaf.

  The air had suddenly turned cold in the parlour in spite of the logs burning brightly in the hearth.

  She turned round very slowly and there behind her just a few yards away stood Emily in her grey dress.

  Her face was white and there were deep caverns of shadow under her eyes.

  Aurora noticed that her fine fair was escaping from the neat loops tucked over her ears and was hanging down in soft wisps.

  “Emily,” she said, breathing deeply to calm herself. “How are you, dear Emily?”

  “He will not come – I wait for him, but – my love will not come – ” came the jerky whispered reply although Emily’s delicate lips did not move.

  Aurora felt herself growing faint again, as the pain around her heart intensified.

  ‘Mama! Help me,’ she prayed silently speaking the words inside her head. ‘What shall I do now?’

  Aurora’s face and hands grew warm and the pain in her heart lessened, as suddenly she knew what she had to say.

  “Emily, dear Emily, he cannot come to you, for he is dead.”

  The figure in front of her bent forward and clutched her head in her hands and Aurora felt herself growing faint again, as a great wave of misery passed over her.

  She quickly stepped off the stool in case she fell.

  “But Emily,” Aurora continued bravely, “you need not wait here for him, for he is waiting for you. It is safe now for you to move on from this house, so that you can join your Frederick in Heaven, where you can be together with him for ever.”

  Emily raised her ghostly head and stared at Aurora, a terrible light of grief and madness shining out of her pale eyes.

  “Who are you to say this to me?” she seemed to be saying. “Where is your love? Are not you – too – waiting for one who will not come? Why should I believe you?”

  Aurora felt faint and weak again and clutched at the metal of the fireguard behind her for support.

  ‘I cannot do this,’ she told herself, ‘it is too hard.’

  She really longed to feel the comfort of the loving presence of her Mama beside her, as she had done so many times before, but nothing came and so there was nothing to protect her from the terrible pain in the eyes of the woman who stood before her.

  Suddenly it was as if a bolt of lightning had passed through her body, she seemed to see the Earl, standing in the great courtyard of Linford Castle, looking up at her in the Governess cart.

  His eyes were shining and he spoke her name.

  “Miss Hartnell!” he called out to her, “I hope it will not be too long before we meet again.”

  Her heart was flooded with a great wave of joy and she turned back to the pale ethereal Emily, who now stood with her head hanging low and whose image seemed to be fading as the fire died down.

  “You must believe me, Emily,” she cried. “My love may never come, but while I live I will still love him.

  “And if it were possible for me to go to him, and if he would have me, I would do so.

  “For it is Love that matters. Love is the only thing, Emily! Go to your beloved Frederick and be together and love him for ever.”

  Emily’s eyes glowed and her pale face broke into a smile.

  She reached out a ghostly hand to Aurora, not quite touching her, and then suddenly the parlour was filled with soft light, as if all the candle flames had grown tall.

  And then she was gone.

  Aurora collapsed onto the sofa her limbs trembling.

  The image of the Earl had been so vivid it was as if he had been right there beside her.

  And yet now he was gone again, leaving her once more alone.

  In her heart she knew that Emily was now at peace and had moved on to the realm of Divine Love.

  No longer would her sad presence trouble the peaceful household at Treworra.

  But what would become of her, Aurora?

  Would her love ever come to her or would she ever be able to go to him?

  Or would she remain here forever, a lonely spinster like Emily always looking back to what might have been?

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Mr. Bramley will be calling later this morning,” announced Miss Morris, as she presided over the breakfast table at Treworra House three weeks after Aurora had had her final encounter with the ghostly Emily.

  “I hope you do not mind, my dear?”

  Miss Morris’s pale cheeks glowed with a flattering rosy tint as she bent over the teapot.

  She had been very cheerful over the last few days.

  “Of course I should not mind,” replied Aurora. “It will be delightful to have his company.”

  “The duties of a Parish Priest can be most arduous,” continued Miss Morris, “forever helping the parishioners bear their burdens of poverty and bereavement and all the other ills that plague mankind. We must help to lighten the load whenever w
e can.”

  She blushed an even darker pink as she poured out a cup of tea for Aurora.

  “Since you have come here, Aurora, you have made me see the importance of good companionship. You have brought a bright and joyful atmosphere into this house and I scarcely know myself for the quiet retiring creature that I used to be.”

  Aurora drank her tea hastily, wondering what Miss Morris might be about to say next, but the older woman sat back in her chair with a little smile on her face and stared happily out of the window.

  After all the breakfast plates had been cleared away, they moved to sit by the fire in the parlour and before too long a loud rat-a-tat was heard at the front door.

  It was, of course, Mr. Bramley, who came in with a broad smile on his kindly red face.

  “My dear Daphne, my dear Miss Hartnell,” he said, bowing politely before taking a seat upon a large armchair near to Miss Morris, who was perched on the sofa.

  ‘Daphne?’ mused Aurora. ‘I am sure he did not call her by her Christian name before.’

  Suddenly she felt her heart give a little flutter with a premonition of what was about to come.

  “Have you yet told our dear young friend about our news?” Mr. Bramley said, turning to Miss Morris, his little blue eyes shining, but she shook her head and looked down at her sewing.

  Mr. Bramley turned back to Aurora.

  “I have sent to Dorset for my dear cousin, Arthur, as I am in need of his services – for Miss Morris and I are to be married!”

  Miss Morris made a sort of hiccoughing noise and dropped her sewing, which she left lying on the floor as Mr. Bramley joined her on the sofa and clasped both her hands in his.

  “And I shall have the finest, dearest and sweetest wife that any man could wish for.”

  Miss Morris was overcome with emotion and could not speak.

  Aurora felt her eyes welling up as she looked across at the sofa and saw the true and tender affection that shone from the eyes of both of them.

  She wished them her most sincere congratulations and stood up, feeling that they might wish to be left alone.

  “Thank you, my dear. I am sure that our happiness is in no small part due to you, Miss Hartnell. You seem to have worked some magic on this house, as I have cared for Daphne since first I knew her and yet it is only now that I have felt able to speak to her.”