A Heart in Heaven Read online

  “It’s Blake, our new groom,” said Lady Hatton.

  “We have a new groom?”

  “Three of the others left. Now we have Blake.”

  “But it takes three men to look after all our horses.”

  “There’s much less work to do,” said Lady Hatton hurriedly. “Your Papa has sold some of the horses.”

  Before Louisa could reply the groom had approached the train. When it stopped he opened the carriage door, bowed respectfully and assisted Lady Hatton down.

  “Welcome home, your Ladyship,” he said gravely. “I hope you have had a pleasant journey.”

  “Well enough,” Lady Hatton replied. “As you see, I have brought Miss Hatton home and a friend of hers.”

  The young man bowed to the young girls. Louisa stared in astonishment.

  He was the most handsome young man she had ever seen. He was in his twenties, with a lean face, dark brooding eyes and thick black hair. He was almost a head taller than herself, so that she had to look up at him and the impression he made was almost overwhelming.

  He bowed again.

  “Welcome home, miss.”

  His voice was beautiful. It held a deep, vibrant, intensely masculine sound. Not the voice of a servant.

  Nor did he sound like a servant when he sent porters scurrying to collect Louisa’s luggage. He spoke with authority and was obeyed instantly.

  Outside the station stood the carriage with the Hatton crest on the panels and two chestnut horses at the front. After letting down the step, Blake offered his hand first to Lady Hatton and then to Arabelle, as the guest.

  Now it was Louisa’s turn. She placed her hand in the young man’s and felt his strong fingers clasp hers. Again she felt the sensation of power and authority, so puzzling in a servant, and looked up.

  He was watching her. Two dark eyes gazed straight into hers. Then he looked quickly away, as though remembering that it was not his place to look directly at the daughter of the house.

  Louisa climbed thoughtfully into the carriage.

  ‘He looks like the heroes in the books I read,’ she mused silently to herself. ‘How strange.’

  On the way home she asked her mother why so many grooms and horses were missing.

  “Your Papa decided that the stable was too large for our needs,” Lady Hatton replied. “Of course we still have our carriage horses and a pretty little mare that Arabelle can ride.”

  “You haven’t sold Firefly, have you?” Louisa asked anxiously.

  “Of course not, my darling. We know she is your favourite mount. And you ride so well, Papa and I are very proud of you.”

  “I have heard that Papa was one of the best riders in the County,” she said. “I have always wanted to ride as well as he did.”

  She could not help adding mischievously,

  “When you choose a husband for me, Mama, you will make sure he is a splendid rider, won’t you? Otherwise I simply won’t look at him!”

  “Hush, my dear. That was not at all a proper remark to make. What will your friend think?”

  “Arabelle thinks as you do,” Louisa responded playfully.

  “I am very practical person,” Arabelle explained. “Romance is delightful, but a title and money matter also.”

  “I am delighted to find you so sensible,” Lady Hatton said. “I am certain my daughter will benefit from your advice.”

  The carriage horses were covering the ground faster now. The villages flew past. Hatton Spur, Lark Hatton, Hatton End, all testifying to Lord Hatton’s importance in the neighbourhood.

  At last Hatton Place came into view. Louisa’s eyes glowed with love for her home. It was four hundred years old, built from pale grey stone that gave it a beautiful, elegant look. It stood on a slight hill, glowing in the sunset.

  ‘Now I am home,’ Louisa thought. ‘Could anyone have such a lovely home as mine?’

  It was not the grandest house in the neighbourhood nor the most luxurious. But she was sure it was the most comfortable and the happiest.

  If she made the great match her parents wanted, perhaps her husband would take her to live in a castle. But no castle could be as beautiful to her as her own home.

  “If you had wanted a palace, you should not have married me,” Louisa had once heard her father tell her mother.

  She would never forget her mother’s reply.

  “I would have married you, darling, if you had only lived in a cottage!”

  ‘That is how love should be,’ Louisa thought.

  Her father was watching for them at a window as they drew up. He waved and Louisa waved back.

  The carriage halted. Blake came to let down the steps and help them out in the same order as earlier. First Lady Hatton, who was immediately enveloped in her husband’s arms. Then Arabelle and after her, Louisa.

  As she placed her hand in Blake’s and felt his grip, steady as a rock, she had a strange sensation as though warmth and life and masculine vitality were flowing from him to her, through the contact of their palms. It was as though all the vibrant currents of energy in the world were concentrated in the two of them.

  For a moment she stood intensely still, held prisoner by a powerful force that filled the whole world. Then the haze cleared and she became herself again, Louisa Hatton, being assisted by a servant. She thanked him graciously and turned to her father.

  Lord Hatton was still a handsome man in his fifties, his back straight, his head erect, although there was more grey in his dark hair than she remembered.

  “Papa!”

  “My darling girl.”

  He enfolded her in his arms and she felt she had truly come home.

  She began to introduce Arabelle, but he stopped her.

  “Your mother has already introduced me to Mademoiselle Regnac,” he said.

  Louisa was bewildered. When had that happened? Why had she not noticed?

  Then she realised that it must have been while she was holding Blake’s hand, oblivious to the rest of the world.

  She felt a little frisson of alarm, as though she was no longer entirely herself, but had started to become someone else.

  Luckily her parents were too wrapped up in their reunion to notice, but she saw Arabelle regarding her with an interested smile.

  As they all walked into the house, she could not but resist looking back to see if Blake was still there. When she saw that he had driven the carriage away, she sensed a strange feeling of disappointment.

  Because Arabelle’s arrival was unexpected the maids were in a flurry. At Louisa’s request she shared her own room with its enormous four poster bed.

  “It’s almost big enough for four, never mind two,” Louisa commented with a giggle. “We can talk all night and have a wonderful time.”

  “And yet, I wonder if I should have come,” Arabelle said. “Your parents are so kind and yet I sense something in the air.”

  “You mean they don’t truly welcome you here?” Louisa asked.

  “Oh, no, but there is something – an air of strain – they have things to say to you that they cannot say when I am here.”

  “You are imagining things,” Louisa maintained resolutely.

  Yet a voice in her head whispered that she too had noticed something unusual, something too vague to be defined, but there all the same.

  “Come down to the stables with me,” she begged, taking Arabelle’s hand. “I want to show you my beloved Firefly.”

  “But we are supposed to be dressing for dinner,” Arabelle protested, laughing.

  “But Firefly will be hurt if I don’t say hello to her at once.” Louisa was pulling her out of the room as she spoke.

  But at the head of the stairs they met her mother, who ordered them straight back.

  “But Mama –”

  “You can see Firefly tomorrow. The maids are already carrying up hot water for your baths. Run along now.”

  Louisa sighed, as it was so long since she had seen her beloved mare. But she obeyed her mother and so
on both she and Arabelle were sitting in tubs having water poured over them.

  Afterwards, wrapped in a huge, soft towel, Louisa considered which of her many new gowns to wear. She finally selected one of white silk muslin with a frothy bustle at the back. Around her neck she wore a black velvet ribbon with a single pearl hanging from it.

  “Perfect,” Arabelle said, regarding her critically.

  She too was in white, but with a deep red satin ribbon in the front, which set off her dark hair and eyes. She was not beautiful, but she was endowed with a shrewd little face and a brilliant smile. Her wit was sharp and occasionally disconcerting.

  “If he saw you looking like this he would fall in love with you at once,” she added.

  “He? Who?”

  “Who? Anybody. The man you are going to fall madly in love with, who will wipe all others from your thoughts. Perhaps you will meet him tomorrow. Perhaps tonight. Perhaps you have already met. Who knows?”

  Suddenly Louisa was back in the moment by the carriage, her small hand held in Blake’s muscular one, her senses dazed by the power that streamed from him, while the stars whirled about them. She pulled herself together.

  “Arabelle, you really should not talk such nonsense,” she chided, trying to sound firm.

  “On the boat you were talking the same kind of nonsense yourself.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t mean –”

  ‘I was not talking about a man who does the work of a groom yet who has the air of a conqueror,’ she thought.

  To her dismay she felt a blush overtaking her, not just her face but her whole body, so that every inch of her skin seemed to be alive with a new consciousness, a new aching, urgent need.

  She was sure all her shocking thoughts must be obvious to Arabelle’s satirical gaze. Yet strangely, when she looked in the mirror, her face was not pink at all. If anything it was rather pale.

  “I think we should go downstairs,” she said hastily.

  Her father came to meet them at the bottom of the stairs, smiling in admiration at the pretty picture they presented and offered them an arm each.

  The table boasted a dozen leaves and could seat twenty for huge dinners, but tonight it was at its smallest and seated only the four of them. It was such a beautiful sight, Louisa thought, the pristine white napery, the silver, the lights winking off the crystal glasses and making the warm rosewood shine.

  In honour of her first night home she was the guest of honour. Lord Hatton led her to her seat with a flourish before he gallantly showed the other two ladies to their seats.

  “Tonight we will be informal,” he declared, by which he meant that there were only two footmen in attendance.

  The butler poured out the wine and served the first course. Lord Hatton raised his glass.

  “To good fortune,” he toasted, “to good friends –” nodding at Arabelle, “and to the return of our daughter.”

  “Oh, it’s so wonderful to be home,” Louisa said. “I want to know everything that has happened while I have been away.”

  “We have a new neighbour at Cranford Manor,” Mama said.

  “Good Heavens!” Louisa exclaimed. “That is news indeed!”

  To Arabelle she explained that Cranford Manor was one of the largest and most historic houses in the whole County.

  “It belonged to the Earl of Cranford,” she said, “but he moved out ten years ago and nobody knows what happened to him. He hasn’t been seen for years.”

  “What about his family?” Arabelle wanted to know.

  “He had one grandson,” Lord Hatton said. “I never knew him but he was known as the black sheep of the family. He was wild, unruly and always in trouble. He joined the army and nobody has heard of him since.”

  “You mean he simply vanished?” Louisa asked.

  “Completely. He might be in London right now, living a riotous life. Perhaps he is serving abroad. Perhaps he has died. Nobody knows or cares. Cranford Manor has stood empty for years and gradually it fell into a state of disrepair.”

  “But now somebody has bought it?” Louisa enquired.

  “It has been bought by Lord Westbridge,” her father explained. “He is apparently very rich and is not only restoring the house, but also making the garden very splendid. People are coming from far and near hoping to catch a glimpse.”

  “How exciting,” Louisa said. “What is Lord Westbridge like? Have you met him Papa?”

  She thought her father sounded a little uneasy as he replied,

  “Once or twice. He seems an excellent sort of man. He inherited a great deal of money from a relation who lived in the North, but he increases his income by gambling.”

  Louisa caught a strange expression on her mother’s face and wondered if dear Papa had been tempted to gamble with Lord Westbridge. But surely, his gambling days were over?

  “He will certainly wake up the County,” she said. “Most of our neighbours spend all their money on horses and would rather buy a new horse than a new house.”

  Her father laughed.

  “I dare say you feel the same, my dear. I know you are at your happiest on horseback.”

  Louisa asked impulsively,

  “Papa, why have you sold off so many of our horses?”

  “It is time for us ladies to retire,” Lady Hatton intervened quickly. “Come with me and leave your Papa to his port.”

  “But Mama –”

  Lady Hatton shepherded Louisa and Arabelle firmly out of the dining room and into the library, where the three of them drank tea for just the right length of time until it was proper for Lord Hatton to join them.

  Arabelle was entranced by the Hatton library and climbed the sliding ladder to examine some books on an upper shelf. While she was thus occupied, Lady Hatton lowered her voice to scold her daughter.

  “It was most impertinent of you to question your father, Louisa. Gentlemen do not like females who question them and it is essential to do what gentlemen approve. Lord Westbridge would have been shocked if he could have heard you.”

  “Is it important that Lord Westbridge likes me, Mama?”

  “It is important that everyone likes you,” replied her mother. “Including Lord Westbridge. He will be coming to dinner soon and I expect you to be at your most charming.”

  “I promise,” Louisa said demurely. “I will ask him to show me his wonderful new garden. I am looking forward to seeing it.”

  “Splendid. I predict that you and he will get on very well together.”

  The rest of the evening passed quietly. The ladies were all tired after the journey and were glad of an early night. As soon as the bedroom door had closed behind them, Louisa found Arabelle’s mischievous eyes looking at her.

  “So he’s the one!” her friend said.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Louisa answered, trying to look indifferent.

  “You don’t fool me, Lady Westbridge!”

  “Arabelle, you must not say things like that. Of course he’s not – not –”

  “Not the reason you are here? To be sure. Why should your parents bring you home weeks early but to meet an enormously rich man?”

  “Ssh!” Louisa signalled frantically as the maid entered the room to help them undress.

  “My lips are sealed,” Arabelle promised solemnly, although her eyes danced. “But I will tell you this, if I had been a beauty your mother would never have let me come home with you.”

  “I refuse to listen,” Louisa exclaimed.

  But she could not help remembering the piercing look Mama had given Arabelle before agreeing to invite her.

  And in her heart she knew that her friend was right. Her parents had brought her home hoping that she and Lord Westbridge would fall in love and marry and be blissfully happy.

  And perhaps they would.

  When they had both gone to bed and the light was out, she lay gazing into the darkness, aware that a new and thrilling stage of her life was just beginning.

  But when she dozed off, she dr
eamed of a young man with a lean face, dark brooding eyes and hands strong enough to keep her safe forever.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Louisa awoke with a start. It was dark and quiet. Arabelle lay sleeping quietly beside her, and beyond their room she guessed that the whole house was asleep.

  Slipping out of bed she tiptoed to the window and drew back the curtain a little, revealing a countryside bathed in silver. High above the moon hung in the sky, silent, mysterious. By its light she could make out the stable block.

  Suddenly a faint whinny rose into the darkness.

  It was Firefly, she thought. She knew the sound the mare made and she was reproaching her mistress for not coming to see her.

  ‘How could I neglect you?’ she whispered. ‘I am coming, my darling.’

  She threw on a cloak over her nightdress, slipped out of the bedroom and down the backstairs to the kitchen. There she found a lantern and lit it. Its weak light would be all she needed.

  She crept out of the back door and made a quick dash across the yard to the stables, holding the lantern in one hand and clutching the edges of her cloak together with the other, for the air was cold.

  It was very quiet inside and the creak of the door opening sounded very loud. Louisa held her lantern high to look around her and gasped in dismay.

  So many friendly faces were gone. Stall after stall that had once been filled with beautiful horses, now stood empty. Even though her parents had told her that they had sold some of the horses, the reality came as a shock.

  But her beloved Firefly was still in her stall and whinnied with pleasure at the sight of Louisa.

  “It’s so good to see you, my Firefly,” she sighed. She hung her lamp on a hook, slipped into the stall and rubbed her cheek against the velvet nose. “I am sorry if you felt neglected.”

  The mare replied in her own way, with a soft whiffling sound, breathing warm air over Louisa and filling her with delight. Full of love, she put her arms around her.

  The next moment she was seized by two strong hands that lifted her bodily, hauled her out of the stall and tossed her into a pile of hay like a rag doll.

  She fought madly, kicking and flailing, although it was useless while he was holding her off the ground. But when she landed she reacted quickly, leaping to her feet and launching an attack on her assailant.