They Touched Heaven Read online

“You must tell me all the news,” said Temia, as she swept a tawny blonde curl from the corner of her mouth. Her blue eyes were the colour of cornflowers and her striking face was sweetly heart-shaped.

  It had been a windy crossing and Temia was proud that, unlike so many passengers, she had not been seasick.

  The wind still blew across the quayside and made chill an otherwise crisp and fine autumn day.

  “Wait until we get into the carriage,” said Lady Brandon, signalling to their coachman. “We have a long journey ahead us and will be staying tonight with Cousin Georgiana and Aunt Marianne in Kensington.”

  “It will be lovely to see her after so long,” replied Temia, climbing into the jet-black brougham. “We will only be there overnight and before we go home to Bovendon Hall, I had hoped that we should be able to visit Jasper’s memorial.”

  At the mention of her dead son’s name, her eyes filled with tears. Jasper had fallen at Scutari in the Crimea some five years earlier and the family had plunged themselves into a long state of mourning. Indeed, Bovendon Hall became known as the ‘vale of tears’ locally. None mourned more deeply than Lady Brandon and although he had been buried in the Crimea, the family had raised a memorial for him in the churchyard at Bovendon.

  *

  A huge lurch of the carriage awoke Temia with a start as it jolted over a pothole. Rubbing her eyes she attempted to peer out of the window. They were nearing the outskirts of the Capital and the roads were becoming more densely lined with houses. As they turned towards Kensington, a carriage that was racing like the devil was on its tail came towards them and sped off towards Mayfair.

  ‘Goodness! They are in a hurry!’ she thought.

  Ten minutes later, at the crossroads at Kensington, their carriage came to a halt. Temia looked out of the window and saw a large theatre set back from the road and, although it was almost midnight, the streets outside were still dotted with people.

  A crowd of girls stood giggling on the pavement along with a few gentlemen in top hats and Temia noticed a board that read,

  “Tonight – Les Jolies Mademoiselles.”

  At the front of the building, the name Royal Kent Theatre was emblazoned in ornate silver letters.

  She watched as the girls acted as if they had not a care in the world. They seemed very gay in their bright Indian shawls and fashionable bonnets. ‘Show girls!’ she smiled, a little excitedly. In Paris she was aware of the demi-monde that was inhabited by glamorous actresses and artists. The girls in her class had whispered of nothing else and of the many scandalous goings-on in the theatres of the City.

  Lady Brandon yawned and turned to Temia,

  “Where are we?” she asked a little sleepily.

  “I think we are almost there, Mama. Look, there is the Royal Kent Theatre.”

  She paused for a second before enquiring,

  “Mama, who are Les Jolies Mademoiselles?”

  “I hear they are the toast of London, although I don’t really concern myself with such matters. They sing and dance and have been known to entertain at the very best house parties. Mainly to an audience of gentlemen – ”

  Her voice trailed away.

  “But, Mama, you suggest they are not ladies?” “No woman on the stage can count herself equal to a lady, Temia. Did they not teach you that at the Finishing School?”

  Temia did not answer. She liked the sound of Les Jolies Mademoiselles as they reminded her of Paris. She thought that Mama would have been shocked had she known that she had dined only the week before at a fashionable Parisian house where a company of actresses had sung and danced for everyone.

  “Besides,” added her mother, “I have some good news for you. Your father has decided to hold a ball to celebrate your homecoming and we have invited everyone we know!”

  “Oh, Mama! Thank you!” cried Temia, thinking excitedly of the new ball gowns she had purchased in Paris. She had been wondering how she could justify the expense and now she had the perfect excuse!

  “We shall be employing a French chef for the event and there will be an orchestra. Your father has spared no expense, as he is so happy to have you home again. You must promise not leave us again for a very long time.”

  “Of course, Mama!” replied Temia, waiting as the coachman climbed down to let them out of the carriage.

  She thought for a moment and then suggested, “Mama, might we have Les Jolies Mademoiselles at the party? If they are as fashionable as you say, then a turn from them would certainly be applauded.”

  Her mother froze for a moment.

  “Your father would never allow such women in the house!” Temia sensed that there was more to this remark than mere comment.

  The light was still on in her aunt’s house and then the next moment, the door was open and two footmen and a butler were soon by her side, supervising her luggage.

  “Good evening, Lady Brandon, Miss Brandon. Her Ladyship will receive you in the drawing room.”

  “Oh, silly Marianne!” cried Lady Brandon. “Did I not write and say don’t wait up as we might be very late?”

  Even so, Lady Brandon and Temia went into the house and were immediately shown into an elegant room.

  A small woman wrapped up in a dressing gown was waiting for them by the fire and Temia immediately ran towards her Aunt Marianne.

  “Temia! Why, you have grown incredibly tall and beautiful!” she exclaimed, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Thank you, Aunt. I am very glad to be back in England, but I shall miss my friends a great deal.”

  “Paris is a beautiful City, is it not?”

  “Very,” replied Temia, sitting down by the fire. “I expect Georgiana will wish to hear everything about it in the morning. I am afraid she went to bed early with a headache. She is very sorry she could not stay up.”

  “How is Georgiana?”

  “She is well and as grown up as you are! There is but a year between you, you will recall.”

  Temia laughed. “Yes, of course. She is, I believe, twenty-two?”

  “Next month and you are twenty-two at the end of the summer?”

  “Yes,” said Temia, “and it was such a pity to turn twenty-one and not be in England. However Papa is giving a ball for me and I do hope you will be able to come?”

  “The invitations have just arrived,” answered Aunt Marianne. “Georgiana cannot wait – she says she is bored with all the London gentlemen and is looking forward to meeting a good country Lord!”

  “I am afraid that we are somewhat lacking in titled Lords, Marianne,” came in Lady Brandon. “I have sent invitations poste chaise to Lord Wentworth and the Duke of Northampton, but not heard a word from either.”

  “The Duke of Northampton is very old, is he not? I cannot imagine our daughters wanting to limp around the dance floor with him. What of Wentworth?”

  “Something of an unknown quantity. He has not been in the County for long. He lives in London and has only just taken up residence at Yardley Manor. His father, the old Earl, died only last year.”

  “Then, he will still be in mourning – ”

  “I could not say. In any case I am so tired that if I don’t go to my bed now, you may have to carry me!”

  “You must forgive me, but I am so excited to see you both. It’s a pity you cannot stay for longer.”

  “We must return home as soon as we can. Arthur dislikes being on his own.”

  Aunt Marianne’s butler showed them to their rooms and made certain they were comfortable.

  *

  Temia fell asleep almost at once and slept, deep in dreams, until the maid woke her at eight o’clock.

  “Good morning, miss,” she said, putting a tray on the bedside table. “Shall I open your curtains?”

  “Yes, please. I hope the sun is shining! It will be a miserable journey back to Northamptonshire if it’s not.”

  The maid pulled back the curtains and a thin beam of sunlight illuminated the room.

  Temia sat up in bed drinking a cup
of tea. She mused again about Les Jolies Mademoiselles and how great it would be for them to perform at her ball.

  ‘It’s a pity Papa is so set against it. It would have given the evening a truly French air that I would love.’

  By the time she had got up and the maid had helped her dress, she was looking forward to seeing Georgiana.

  As soon as she entered the breakfast room and saw her, she could no longer contain her excitement.

  “Georgiana!” she cried, rushing over to her cousin and kissing her cheek. “How lovely you look!”

  “I was about to say the same thing to you as well, dearest!” she replied. Georgiana was pale and blonde with such enormous brown eyes.

  “How long can it be since we last saw each other?”

  “It was the year before you went to Paris, but I did not think it possible that you should have grown so much!”

  “It’s an illusion, I am no taller than I was then.”

  “Then, it must be your gown and your hair – so very Continental!”

  Temia blushed with pleasure and smoothed down the silk skirt of her dress. It was one of her favourites and echoed the colour of her eyes.

  Georgiana ushered Temia to a chair at the table.

  “And so, after breakfast, you must tell me all your news. It’s a pity that you are leaving after luncheon.”

  “But I will see you at the ball, Georgiana?”

  “Most definitely, but we shall not be staying longer than overnight. Maybe you can visit London again soon?”

  “That would be lovely, but first I want to reacquaint myself with Bovendon Hall before I go rushing off again.”

  After breakfast Georgiana and Temia went to the morning room to view Georgiana’s latest sketches.

  “These are very good,” said Temia appreciatively, as she took out a portfolio of animals. “How well you have captured the likeness of your little dog!”

  Georgiana’s King Charles Cavalier spaniel, Bob, was sitting with his head on his paws by a fireplace. He looked pleadingly up at his Mistress in the hope of a titbit.

  “He’s adorable, isn’t he?”

  “Very, although I must admit I prefer horses. I am looking forward to seeing new ones at Papa’s stables.”

  “What began as a hobby has become a thriving business, Mama says – ”

  “Yes, although, as you well know, Papa is first and foremost a gentleman.”

  “Naturally,” said Georgiana. “And he will want to make up for lost time by showing you off at this ball.”

  Temia laughed. “Yes, he will and, for myself, I am pleased that I will now not have to hide the huge trunk full of gowns that I purchased in Paris!”

  “You know Uncle Arthur cannot deny you a thing,” replied Georgiana, putting away her portfolio.

  “That is not quite so,” answered Temia.

  “Why do you say that? If it is within his power to grant you, then you know your Papa will do so.”

  “There is one thing he will not. Georgiana, are you familiar with the Royal Kent Theatre?”

  “The one at the crossroads?”

  “Yes, the very same. On our way here last night, I saw that there is a singing and dancing troupe called Les Jolies Mademoiselles. Mama says they are the toast of London and if they were to perform at my ball – ”

  Georgiana looked shocked.

  “Temia!” she gasped, “do you know what kind of women these are?”

  “Mama expressed much the same sentiment. She said Papa would never allow them in our house! In France women such as they are feted, not frowned on. Really, the English are so prudish sometimes.”

  Georgiana picked up Bob and walked over to the sofa with him. She appeared to be deep in thought.

  “No, dearest, it’s not that – ”

  “Then, what is it?”

  Georgiana bit her lip.

  “I don’t know if I should tell you.”

  Temia looked intrigued.

  “Dearest, now that you have said it – you must!”

  “Very well, but you must not speak of this to your parents, as your Mama will be mortified if she thinks that I have told you.”

  “Georgiana!” cried Temia in exasperation.

  “Promise me you won’t be shocked, but – there’s a rumour in the family that Uncle Arthur, your Papa, was once involved in a scandal with a dancer. It was before he met your Mama, of course. There – I have said it!”

  Temia sat down with her mind whirling. What Georgiana had just told her, stunned her. She had always thought of her father as being rather staid and dull. Of course, he was her own dear Papa, but she could not imagine him chatting easily with those girls she had seen outside the theatre yesterday or behaving in any way less than a gentlemanly manner!

  “Goodness!” she breathed. “I can scarcely believe it. I have never heard this story before.”

  “It’s not something that’s talked about. I am afraid I don’t know details, Temia, and you must not say I have told you or Mama would be furious with me. But you do see why you could never have Les Jolies Mademoiselles set foot inside Bovendon Hall.”

  For the rest of the day Temia was curiously quiet and withdrawn. Although she wanted to consider herself a worldly woman, she knew nothing of love or its darker side. ‘I must find out more about this family secret,’ she reflected, as they sat down to luncheon. ‘But how can I discover the truth without upsetting Mama?’

  And before they had started their pudding, she had resolved to get to the bottom of the matter.

  ‘I cannot let this lie,’ she murmured to herself, as she finished her plate of apple tart. ‘I simply cannot!’

  CHAPTER TWO

  Temia did not enjoy the revelations about her father that had been a family secret for so many years. She asked Georgiana to go over the story time and time again and then she searched for new clues.

  “Are you certain you don’t know any more?” she whispered, as they walked around the garden. “I have told you everything that I know,” replied Georgiana, now feeling sorry she had mentioned the topic. “All I can say is that it was before your parents married.”

  Temia felt frustrated.

  She could hardly ask Mama what had happened in case it upset her and cross-questioning Papa was out of the question.

  “There must be an odd servant who was at The Hall when it occurred, perhaps Robert our groom, who has been at Bovendon Hall since he was a stable boy.

  But how to broach the subject with a hired hand?

  She knew it was beneath her dignity to scrabble around for titbits amongst the servants and if her Mama found out, she would be furious.

  She was still pondering her conundrum when the butler informed her that the carriage was ready to leave.

  *

  “Temia! My darling! How wonderful you look!”

  Temia ran at once to the library where she knew her father would be, the moment she set foot in the house. “Papa! I have missed you so much!” she cried, as he kissed her cheek and embraced her. “You have grown so beautiful, my darling. I can hardly believe I have produced such a charming creature.”

  Temia laughed and stroked the lapel of his jacket.

  “Papa, you do yourself an injustice, you are most distinguished and wise and those virtues far outweigh mere skin-deep features.”

  “Well, your Mama thought so! And when I had hair, I could pass muster in a good suit and a silk hat.”

  “Papa, did you have many sweethearts before you met Mama?”

  Temia could not believe she had had the nerve to say such a thing. She felt her father pull away from her.

  “You have been in France too long, my dear,” he said, with a shocked look. “I can see that.”

  “Oh, I am sorry, Papa. I did not mean to offend!”

  “I am not offended, Temia, merely shocked at your forwardness. You must remember that you are in England now and you must not ask such very personal questions of people. What passes for idle conversation in France is not t
he done thing in England.”

  Temia blushed. It was true – she had become very bold in the two years she had been in Paris. There was something about the open and frank nature of the French that had struck a chord within her and she soon dropped her English reserve.

  In fact, she had always been pleased if someone had mistaken her for a French girl rather than English.

  She spoke French with an impeccable accent and had learnt a little Italian as well and some people refused to believe that she was anything other than Continental. “Now, Temia, would you excuse me? I have some paperwork to finish before dinner. And I am sure a certain four-legged friend of yours would welcome a visit!”

  “Lightning! Oh, how could I forget him? Papa, I must run to the stables at once!”

  She quickly turned and headed for the stables.

  ‘All seems unchanged since I was last here,’ she thought with a degree of satisfaction, as she ran towards the squat building that lay some distance from the house.

  The first person she saw was Robert, the old groom. His hands were as gnarled as his face and the black cap on his head covered a bald pate. He was busy hacking at the upturned hoof of a pony she had not seen before.

  “Robert!” she called across the courtyard.

  “Miss Temia! You’ve come back to us at last!”

  “Yes, I have and this time I will be staying.”

  “It does me good to ’ear that, miss. Lightning has sure missed you!”

  “Where is he, Robert? I would love to see him.”

  “He’s over there in yon field, you just call ’im and ’e’ll come!”

  Temia could not contain her excitement as she ran to the edge of the field. The proud chestnut stallion was peacefully cropping the grass but, as soon as she called, he lifted his big head and snorted.

  Within moments, he had galloped over to where she stood. Delightedly, he nuzzled her hand.

  “Sorry, boy. No sugar. Let me look at you!”

  Lightning shook his head as if in disappointment.

  “Oh, come,” crooned Temia, “tomorrow we shall go for a nice long ride and you can have all the treats you could wish for. I don’t want Robert accusing me of trying to make you fat and lazy, do I?”

  She stroked his silky mane lovingly. None of the horses she had ridden in Paris had been so handsome and on the rare opportunity she did have to ride, she had not enjoyed it as much as if she had been on the back of Lightning.