To Heaven With Love Read online

  Aphrodite had no answer for Dorianna.

  She just looked down with a shy secret smile on her marble lips.

  Further on through the trees, Dorianna could hear birds singing and the tinkling of a stream as it raced over the stones.

  She could not wait any longer and so, gathering up her skirts, she ran down to the banks of the stream to a place where the running water had formed a tiny beach.

  The water felt deliciously cool as it lapped around her toes and she stepped carefully, balancing on the slippery stones until she was up to her knees in the stream.

  The sun shone through the leaves, making dappled patterns of light on the water.

  ‘I’m completely happy now!’ she thought. ‘All the bad heavy feeling has gone. I am myself again here in this divine place!’

  There was a movement on the opposite bank of the stream and Dorianna looked up to see a slim spotted deer leaning down to drink.

  “Oh!” she cried, before she could stop herself.

  She expected that the shy creature would run away, but the deer looked up at her with large gentle brown eyes and went on drinking. Then after a few moments it slipped away without a sound and disappeared into the woods.

  Dorianna felt tears come into her eyes.

  ‘Thank you!’ she whispered. ‘Thank you so much for coming to see me!’

  She felt as if the little deer had seen right into her heart and had recognised her and understood that she was a friend.

  ‘That’s what it must be like to feel real love,’ she reflected and a new wave of happiness ran through her.

  Then the dappled light faded as a cloud passed over the sun and she realised that her feet were icy cold from the stream and that it must be almost time for dinner.

  She ran back up the path, all her troubles forgotten, thinking with delight that she was the only person ever to have seen a deer in the wild garden. Even her darling Papa had not had that glorious experience.

  *

  It was a rush to get ready for dinner.

  Dorianna’s long hair was tangled and full of leaves and twigs and she struggled to pull the comb through it.

  Her thoughts too were in a tangle, for now that she was back inside Ashburton Hall it was impossible to forget what was going to happen over the next few days.

  Tomorrow Dorianna and her Mama and Step-papa, together with all the trunks and boxes full of fine clothes, shoes and hats, would be making the long journey to Lord Buxton’s ancestral home in Kent, Rouston Hall.

  And then within two or three days a wedding would be solemnised in the private Chapel at Rouston – and she would become Lady Buxton.

  She would have every luxury she could ever wish for, the most beautiful silks and velvets to wear, the finest, rarest and most luxurious foods to eat.

  She would have well-bred horses to ride for Lord Buxton was known to have some of the best thoroughbreds in England in his stables.

  And, most important of all, Dorianna would know that her beloved home, Ashburton Hall, was safe and that her dear Mama would never have to worry about financial problems ever again.

  Dorianna’s Step-papa had told her all of this over and over again since the day he had first introduced her to Lord Buxton.

  He reminded her all the time that she was making the most advantageous match possible.

  But how could Dorianna possibly marry a man like Lord Buxton? Whenever she thought of him her stomach turned over and her skin crawled.

  She put down the comb and buried her face in her hands, trying to control her feelings of despair.

  The image of Lord Buxton did not leave her mind.

  She could not forget the way his loud voice grated on her ears and how her skin prickled when she saw his shiny red face and watery little blue eyes.

  And his behaviour!

  He was indeed a young man, yes, but a young man who behaved as if he was as old as her Step-papa.

  But then Dorianna thought of the neglected garden.

  In another few years her beloved statues, even her Papa’s old favourite, the beautiful Aphrodite, would be lost forever under the roots and branches of encroaching trees and smothered by brambles, unless money could be found.

  And that was not the worst that could happen.

  What if she and her Mama had to leave Ashburton Hall forever?

  If Step-papa continued to lose money at the races and at the gaming tables, Ashburton Hall would have to be sold – and sold very soon.

  How would her dear gentle Mama cope with living in a small house or perhaps in rented rooms somewhere?

  However would she manage without Marjorie and all the other servants to care for her?

  Dorianna bit her lip, fighting to keep from crying.

  ‘I must remember,’ she told herself, ‘what Mama did for me. I have to remember why she married my Step-papa. Mr. Shawcroft was so rich when she first met him. If he had not been a gambler, all would have been well – ’

  As these painful thoughts passed through her mind, her image floated in the mirror in front of her, a pale heart shaped face framed in a cloud of golden hair.

  She closed her eyes tight, blocking out the sight of herself, as she let her memory go back to the terrible day, Boxing Day, two years ago, when she had seen her Papa for the last time.

  *

  Dorianna stood with Mama on the steps outside the entrance to Ashburton Hall, watching the throng of horses and riders trampling over the gravel and the lawn.

  “Stay close by me, sweetheart,” Mama had advised, “those dreadful hounds will leap up on you and put mud all over your pretty dress!”

  Dorianna longed to run down to help Marjorie and the servants serve sherry and mulled wine to the assembled riders of the Hunt, but she knew that her mother was right.

  The hounds running around under the horses’ feet were not tame well-trained pets like Toby and Maria, her mother’s King Charles’ spaniels. They were boisterous and fierce and their paws were very muddy indeed.

  She was wearing the loveliest dress she had ever possessed. Papa had bought it for her on a trip to Paris.

  It gave her the very latest, most fashionable hourglass silhouette, and it was made of the softest, pale rose-coloured velvet with a delicate pale-green pattern of vine leaves and grapes.

  Papa was making his way over now, his top-hatted head bouncing up and down over the crowds of riders, as his fiery young horse bucked and pranced.

  “Trojan! Stand, sir!” shouted Lord Dale, grinning with delight at the antics of his spirited black mount.

  “My dear, are you sure that Trojan is quite ready to carry you to hounds?” asked Mama.

  “He’s a fine young horse!” he laughed. “I love his spirit! He’ll not hang back today.”

  Dorianna’s Papa was an excellent horseman, lean, strong and supple.

  He was known all over the County of Hertfordshire for his skill at jumping difficult fences, when other riders were scurrying away looking for a gate.

  Now the Hunt was moving off down the drive, the horses’ hooves clattering over the gravel with the hounds baying and barking.

  Lord Dale leaned down from the saddle to touch Dorianna’s cheek.

  “You look so grown up, my angel!” he said. “Quite the sophisticated lady. I almost wish I had brought you a little white muslin dress from Paris, so I could believe you were still my own little girl!”

  “Papa, I have told you many times how much I love this dress. And you know that even though I am no longer a little girl, I will always be your loving daughter, however fashionable I might look.”

  “Hmmph!”

  Her Papa made a wry face, but his eyes sparkled.

  “A suitably sophisticated reply! The young bucks who will be courting you next summer must look out for themselves!”

  Then he laughed and gave Dorianna an approving look as Trojan carried him away after the departing riders.

  Later that afternoon, as the red sun dipped down in the sky, the huntsmen
brought him back to Ashburton Hall laid out on a stretcher, a red coat covering his face.

  Trojan had leaped boldly over a treacherous stone wall with a steep drop on the other side and he had caught his front foot on the top of the wall and somersaulted over it, crashing to the ground.

  Lord Dale had no chance to save himself and was crushed under the horse and killed instantly.

  *

  The scene was so vivid in Dorianna’s mind that her face was wet with tears as she recalled that terrible day.

  Then a sharp knock on her bedroom door brought her back to the present.

  It was Marjorie again, peering round the door in her white cap.

  “Come along, my dear!” she urged. “Five minutes to dinner and your hair is not even done.”

  “I do know, Marjorie!” answered Dorianna, quickly wiping her eyes. “But look, I am all dressed. I just need you to hook me up.”

  She painstakingly did up the back of the blue gown, her old fingers fumbling with the tiny hooks.

  “You’ll have your own lady’s maid to do all this for you in just few days’ time,” mumbled Marjorie.

  “I’d rather not, you know,” she replied, before she could stop herself. “I’d be much happier to stay here and share you with Mama, as I have always done!”

  “Oh what silly talk!” exclaimed Marjorie, fastening up the last hook and reaching for the hairbrush. “You’re a woman grown and it’s time you had a lovely home of your own and a family too!”

  Dorianna covered her mouth with her hand.

  The thought of a brood of red-faced, shouting little children, all looking like Lord Buxton made her feel ill!

  But Marjorie had not noticed anything.

  “And who’d have ever thought that you’d keep the lovely fair hair you had as a little child?” she said, holding up one long strand to the light from the window.

  “Most girls’ hair turns into yellow or brown before they’re half-way grown, but you’ve kept all your ‘angel’s hair’ as your dear Papa loved to call it. Goodness, it’s so fair it’s almost white!”

  Dorianna shook herself.

  She must stop being silly and forget the past which, just like her dear Papa, was gone for ever.

  “You are very sweet, Marjorie, but, of course, my hair is just like Mama’s before she went grey.”

  Majorie smiled, her face wrinkling deeply.

  “No, my dear, I well remember your Mama’s hair. She was very fair, but you are fairer! You are going to be the loveliest bride that’s been seen for a long time.”

  She carefully pinned up Dorianna’s long curls into an elegant knot at the back of her head.

  And then it was time to go down to dinner.

  Dorianna swept down the great staircase, her silk skirts rustling around her, as she had done so many times.

  She might come back sometime to Ashburton Hall and walk down this beautiful curving stairway again, but it would never be the same.

  ‘I will be Lady Buxton, rich, beautiful and one of the foremost figures in Society, and the unhappiest woman in England,’ thought Dorianna, as she made her way to the dining room.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dorianna’s Mama was already in the dining room, sitting alone at one end of the long polished dining table.

  Her pretty grey hair was arranged in soft curls over her forehead and she wore an elegant lavender gown.

  “Is that you, Neville?” she called loudly, her voice sounding nervous, as she raised her pince-nez to her face.

  “No, Mama, it’s me,” responded Dorianna, patting the two King Charles spaniels, who rushed over to greet her, their tails wagging.

  Her Step-papa, Neville Shawcroft, was nowhere to be seen.

  “Oh, dear,” Mama sighed, lowering the pince-nez. “I have had such a difficult day. There has been another incident in the kitchen.”

  “What happened?” asked Dorianna, sitting next to her mother and squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Is it cook again?”

  Mrs. Bertram, the stout cook, who ruled the kitchen with a rod of iron, had a quick temper and had been known to throw down her ladle and run out of the house if things did not go smoothly with the preparation of dinner.

  “No, cook is still with us, but she spilled some hot béarnaise sauce on the sleeve of McFadyean’s coat.”

  McFadyean was the butler at Ashburton Hall. He was quite a young man for such an important position and had only been at the Hall a few weeks. It was the first time he had held the post of butler.

  “I offered to have the coat laundered or replaced if it could not be cleaned, but he was most upset. He has now packed his bags and left.”

  “But that is so silly of him, Mama. He wanted so much to come here and work for us.”

  Mama dropped her voice to a whisper.

  “Yes, it was an excellent opportunity for a young man like McFadyean. But you see, my dear, we have been in such difficulties – ”

  “Oh, Mama, he might have had to wait a little to be paid, and, of course, we would have given him his money as soon as we had it! And once I am married – ”

  Dorianna felt a chill run through her as she spoke the words.

  It was true that as soon as she became the wife of Lord Buxton, there would be no more financial problems at Ashburton Hall, but she still could not help wishing that she could forget all about it.

  “I tried to tell him so, but he shrugged his shoulders and turned away. I don’t know what your Step-papa will say, my dear.”

  Dorianna sighed.

  Several staff had given in their notice over the last few months. They were quick to see the signs of economy in the household, the budgets imposed by Mama for buying food and other necessities.

  The dining room door flew open and banged shut as Neville Shawcroft stalked in, his pointed nose buried in the racing pages of a newspaper.

  Toby and Maria fled to the safety of the dark space under the sideboard.

  Mr. Shawcroft waved the paper at them and then slumped down into his chair.

  “And how are my girls, eh?” he enquired, spreading the paper out on the table. “How’s the lovely bride-to-be? Happy, I hope, at the thought of our journey tomorrow?”

  Dorianna did her best to force her face into a smile and was about to answer him, but he was not looking at her as he was concentrating on the racing results.

  “We are well, my dearest,” replied Mama, “but how are you, Neville? Where have you been today?”

  “Out,” he answered, glancing up from the paper for a second and giving her a lop-sided smile. “Things to do, my love, things to do.”

  Mama did not ask any more questions.

  She picked up the silver bell on the table and rang it. They waited for a few moments, but no one came.

  Dorianna looked at her Step-papa.

  He had not yet noticed that there was no food on the table, he was far too busy scrutinising the newspaper.

  It was strange, she thought, but he did have a look of her Papa sometimes. They both had straight brown hair and long faces and both men were slight and tall. But the likeness ended there.

  Papa always used to sit very straight at table. He moved lithely as he was walking and his face was tanned a healthy brown from all the time he spent out of doors.

  Mr. Shawcroft never sat straight on his chair and his face was pale, as if he spent most of his time indoors.

  Dorianna looked at her Step-papa, hunched over the newspaper with his elbows propped up on the table and his limp brown hair flopping over his forehead.

  She remembered how smart and well-groomed he had been on the day of his first visit to Ashburton Hall – the first time she had ever seen him.

  *

  It was in the spring not long after Papa had died.

  Dorianna shivered as she recalled those dark days.

  How gloomy the house had been with the curtains closed and the blinds pulled down.

  Dorianna and her mother, dressed in black, lived in a sad candlelit
world where only slender rays of daylight reached them, shining through chinks and cracks in the rich fabric of the window coverings.

  She remembered how, a few days after her Papa’s funeral, the family lawyer had come to visit them and had spread out many legal documents over the library table.

  “You should be very comfortable,” he pronounced, wrinkling his forehead over a list of numbers. “Ashburton Hall will fetch a good price, and if you rent a modest set of rooms somewhere – Bath is always nice, I have thought – there will be plenty of income from that capital sum. You won’t go hungry.”

  “I shall never be comfortable anywhere but here!” Mama had cried. “This is my home!”

  The lawyer shook his head.

  “Things are not what they were, my Lady. The cost of running an estate like this is very high and the rents and income from the farms simply do not cover it.

  “If your late husband – ” the lawyer coughed and wiped his face, looking embarrassed, before he continued,

  “If Lord Dale, may he rest in peace, had been more successful with his speculative investments, it might have been different. But alas, he made some foolish choices – ”

  But Mama did not want to hear any more.

  The lawyer tried to explain to her about the railway in Africa that had been swamped by the mud and the thick vegetation of the jungle.

  And the spice plantation in the East Indies that had been engulfed by a volcanic eruption, but Lady Dale could only weep, transfixed with horror at the thought of leaving Ashburton Hall.

  “There will have to be most stringent economies, if you are determined to stay,” concluded the lawyer, rolling up his papers and preparing to leave.

  “We will do anything if it means we can keep our home!” Dorianna had insisted.

  And so servants had been laid off and Dorianna and her Mama had tried so hard to spend no money.

  But Mama hated the cold and always liked to have a fire in every room and she could not understand why they should only light one candle on the table for dinner, when twelve looked so much brighter and prettier.

  And neither Dorianna nor her mother were fond of cabbage, swedes and potatoes, which were all the kitchen garden had to offer in the early months of spring.

  By Easter time, when daffodils were out in the park and April showers were battering the windows, the curtains were still drawn and there was almost no money left at all.