A Paradise On Earth Read online

  He was painfully thin and exhausted. He felt a strange sense of not knowing who or where he was, although, if asked, he could have recited his name and regiment. But everything in the universe was now different. And so was he.

  From the hospital he had been sent directly home, summoned by a telegram that proclaimed his brother had died.

  He sailed for England, still afflicted by the eerie sense of having one foot in this world and one in the next and of belonging in neither. The telegram had given no details of his brother’s death.

  It had been a hunting accident, he learned on arriving home. Now he was the heir to the Earldom. It did not seem real. Nothing did.

  John had found his father haggard and distraught. He had lived for his elder son. Now he looked his younger son up and down, sighed and said, “at least you returned safely. It will all be yours now.”

  He had started to say that he did not want any inheritance at such a price, but his voice had faltered before the bleakness in his father’s eyes. Lord Milton was not interested in anything John had to say. He had waited to see him arrive home, for the sake of the estate. After that it was finished for him.

  That night he took his own life.

  John had been left stunned by this act of abandonment. He found himself sole heir to a property that was in a bad state of repair. He was determined to restore it to its old magnificence, partly for love of the place, and partly to fill the aching void within himself.

  For the last two years he had seldom left his estate. Once he had enjoyed London society. Now it seemed to him all noise and meaningless bustle, especially since everyone wanted to discuss the war in the Crimea.

  Thanks to an intrepid correspondent for The Times, this war had been brought home to the public far more than any previous war. He had described the suffering of the soldiers, the heroism of Miss Nightingale and the folly of the commanding officers.

  That folly had been largely to blame for the action where John had received the wound that almost killed him. The supreme stupidity of charging the Russian guns had filled the British public with horror. It had become known as the Charge of the Light Brigade and the survivors were lauded as heroes.

  A new medal had been devised known as the Victoria Cross. The previous year John and sixty-one other men had gathered in Hyde Park, in London, where the young Queen, mounted on horseback, had personally pinned the decoration on each man.

  Somehow John had survived the festivities, but he had no wish to be reminded of something that still filled him with horror and soon he had escaped to his estate.

  There he had buried himself in the task of restoring his home, too absorbed to notice that money was running dangerously low.

  Now the estate was greatly improved. But it had taken every penny, and there was still much to be done.

  ‘What I need is a miracle,’ he thought to himself. ‘but where is one to be found?’

  The butler entered the room.

  “There is a very rich lady to see you, my Lord.”

  John looked at him, puzzled.

  “That’s a very odd introduction, Carter. How do you know she is rich?”

  “Everyone knows about Mrs. Dilney’s money, my Lord. She is famous for it.”

  “I see. Then perhaps you had better show her in.”

  As soon as the woman entered John realised that there was no doubt as to her wealth. She was wearing a coat of the finest fur. There were diamonds shining in her ears and also on the fingers of the hand she held out to him.

  “Good morning, Lord Milton,” she gushed. “I am Anthea Dilney and I am delighted to meet you.”

  He murmured something polite. He did not realise that one of the reasons for her delight was that he was an exceedingly good-looking young man.

  “I have been hoping for some time that our paths would cross,” Mrs. Dilney began.

  “I am afraid I haven’t been around much in society,” John said.

  “Then you will not have heard of me,” she declared, clearly implying that nothing else could account for such a remarkable oversight.

  “I am American,” she continued, “although my mother was English. She reared me to value her country as much as my father’s and I have always wanted to live here for a while. So that is what I plan to do, hire a real old English country estate and enjoy being a great lady.”

  John mumbled something polite. He was too stunned to think of anything meaningful to say.

  “I have been searching for a house as magnificent as this one. I think that your garden and the estate, until you neglected it, must have been very beautiful.”

  John drew in his breath before replying,

  “It has, I admit, been neglected. I have done my best to put it right, but the work is still far from complete.”

  “Nonetheless I would like to rent this house from you.”

  For a moment it was impossible for him to speak, he was so surprised. Then he said,

  “I would be only too glad, but you do realise that so much remains to be done.”

  “Then I shall do it. My dear father left me enough money to do as I please and it will amuse me to undertake some of the work here.”

  He stared at her in astonishment.

  “Are you saying, madam, that you would like to rent the estate as it is?”

  “I want to rent it and repair it. It will be fun.”

  “For how long?”

  “For three or four years,” she replied, “then I will be returning to America. But for the moment I have a great longing to be an English lady.”

  Although he could hardly believe it, she was completely serious. Feeling dazed by the speed of events, John arranged for her to meet his man of business the next day.

  When he was alone that night he said to himself,

  ‘This is a miracle from Heaven itself and I will go down on my knees in gratitude.’

  Then he told himself he was perhaps asking too much, even of God. As an ordinary man with very big debts, he had to be so careful at what was happening that it would be wrong to ask for more.

  But an even bigger surprise was waiting for him.

  *

  Mrs. Dilney returned next day and signed an agreement to rent the whole Milton estate at the largest sum John dared to ask. She would take possession at the end of the month.

  ‘All I have to do now,’ he thought, while wandering in the garden, ‘is to find myself another home and a way of filling my time so that I do not brood on how empty my life is. I suppose I am an ungrateful dog to feel like this when I have so much.’

  But he knew that he possessed very little that mattered. There was no warmth or affection in his life. He knew many women who would gladly have married him for his title, some of them wealthy. But how many of them would marry him for love?

  He could not have answered that question. All he knew was that he had never found the special girl who could have made him want to win her heart.

  He realised that he was still lost in the troubled dream that had afflicted him ever since he had gone to the Crimea. Now he looked back on that time with bewilderment, wondering how he could ever have thought there was excitement to be found in war.

  For a time he had found peace in renovating the estate. But now he would need something else to give purpose to his life and he could not imagine what it might be.

  Strolling back to the house, he became aware that Carter was calling to him in some agitation.

  “There is a person to see you, my Lord. A male person.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  “He said to tell you that Sergeant Dale is here and he added, ‘if it’s him, he’ll know me.’”

  “Sergeant Dale?” John shouted in delight, “by all that’s wonderful! Robert!”

  He hurried into the house and found his old comrade standing in the hall. Robert turned his beaming, good humoured face to him, and they clasped each other’s hands.

  “It is so good to see your Lordship alive and well,” Rober
t exclaimed. I had almost given up hope when I heard a rumour that you had lived to become the Earl. It seemed too good to be true.”

  “It is true all right,” John said, signalling to the butler who had followed him in. “Carter, some of the best ale for my friend.”

  They walked into the library and settled down to a good talk about the old days, raising their ale-filled glasses to each other.

  “My brother died and my father chose to follow him,” John told him quietly. “Since then I have concentrated on restoring this place but –”

  There was something bleak about his shrug that told Robert the whole story.

  “Nothing was ever quite the same after the Crimea, was it, sir?” he asked gently.

  “No, Robert. Everything that seemed important before –” he shrugged again, then pulled himself together. “What we need are new challenges, but where are they?”

  “Well, I have found some new challenges,” Robert answered. “When I got home I went into the business with my father, learning how to be a landlord.”

  “Do you remember how I used to dream of that?” John replied with a grin. “I still think I might have been good at it.”

  “I am sure you would, sir. In fact – why didn’t I think of it before? The Paradise!”

  “Is that your ale-house in London?”

  “No my Lord, it is my other place. Dad owned a second house by the sea, left to him by an old friend who had no family. It’s not an ale-house but a hotel, catering for quality folk. They are not titled people but they are prosperous. It needs a gentleman to run it. Someone like you.”

  “Robert, I was only joking. What do I know about running an inn?”

  “You kept us in order in the Crimea,” Robert said with a grin.

  “Tell me about this place. Where is it?”

  “Brighton, on the south coast. You know, the place where the Prince Regent built his pavilion. The Town Council bought it from the Queen a few years ago and now it houses exhibitions and concerts. The sea bathing is very popular and since the railway opened people have been flocking to Brighton.”

  “What is the hotel like?”

  “Well, it’s not a big one,” Robert replied. “It has four double bedrooms and four single and it’s right on the sea, overlooking the ocean. Once I had taken over in London, my father came to Brighton to run it himself. He did it up and made it comfortable, but then he died, so now I need someone to run it in his place.

  “It has a nice dining room, so there would be money to be made from passing trade as well as guests staying at the hotel.”

  John was silent for a long moment. Once more he felt as though he was in a dream, but this time the dream was bright and growing brighter by the moment.

  “I have no wish to put it into the hands of someone I don’t trust, my Lord. And who can I trust better than you?”

  “By Jove, I’ll do it!” John said suddenly.

  It would solve many problems, he realised, including where he should live while he rented his own property to Mrs. Dilney.

  “Stay here tonight, Robert,” he urged. “We have a great deal to talk about.”

  *

  The next morning they set off together for London, where they stayed overnight at John’s club before taking the train to Brighton the following day. Outside Brighton railway station they found a cab which took them to the Paradise Hotel.

  John had not been certain what to expect, but he was pleasantly surprised. The building looked like a country house, not grandiose but comfortable. It stood in its own grounds, behind trees that shielded it from the main road.

  Before they went inside Robert led him round the back, so that John could see the steps that led down to the beach.

  “Do you see the bathing machines?” Robert said, indicating several huts on wheels that stood at the water’s edge. “Six of them belong to the hotel. They’re booked by the day. Now let’s go in.”

  Inside the hotel John found even more to please him, especially the dining room which overlooked the sea and was full of light from the large windows.

  It was well decorated and the furniture looked comfortable. John saw that it could seat twenty people without any difficulty.

  On the other side of the dining room the windows looked out over the garden. John noticed that there were flowers blooming in the beds and the tall sturdy trees made a particularly pretty picture.

  Robert led John up the stairs to see the eight bedrooms that were served by six bathrooms, all in excellent condition.

  John was then shown the kitchen which was clean and very tidy. This was due to Mrs. Jones, the wife of the groom who, Robert assured him was a very good cook.

  “Surely you don’t do all the cooking yourself,” John asked her.

  “Oh, no,” she replied. “If there are guests staying here, I have help. There are two girls in the village who are very good cooks and we need them if we’re full up.”

  “Are you full often?” John asked.

  “In the summer we are,” she replied. “And as summer has just started, the crowds are beginning to come to Brighton.”

  “I have never seen such a marvellous view of the sea,” John observed.

  “Everyone says that,” she said. “The bedrooms with sea views are the most expensive. Now I will prepare your lunch.”

  As they sat down in the dining room and looked out at the sea, John commented,

  “I am surprised that you didn’t ask Mr. and Mrs. Jones to take on the Paradise.”

  “Very good people,” Robert said. “But I want this place to attract top clientele. And that means someone like yourself to oversee matters.”

  “Are you proposing to pay me a salary?” John asked with a grin.

  “Certainly not, my Lord,” Robert said, shocked at the idea of a salaried Earl. “I propose to give you half the profits that you make over the next three months.”

  Since the summer season was about to start and he was a complete beginner, John knew that this was a good offer.

  They continued discussing practical details, but in his heart John was already certain that he had found the mysterious ‘something’ that he had been looking for.

  “But while I am here, I am not an Earl,” he declared. “I will be plain John Milton.”

  “What’s the point of being an Earl, if people don’t know?” Robert asked, baffled.

  “I would like to see how I manage without people being deferential to my title.”

  “You managed all right in the Crimea, before you even came into your title.”

  “That was different. I can hardly mount a charge against your guests.”

  “But if people knew that you were a hero of the Crimea –”

  “No,” John replied sharply. “That’s all over and done with. Never mention it again. I am plain John Milton, and that is final. Let’s consider it settled. I will return here in a week, and we will see what sort of landlord I make.”

  *

  John was in a good mood when he and his valet descended from the train at Brighton a week later. This was a new experience and the prospect of being near the sea was invigorating. He had always loved the sea ever since he was a small boy.

  He thought it would be a real holiday to be able to swim whenever he wanted.

  The air was so much cleaner than it was in London.

  When they reached the Paradise Hotel, John saw that it was shining in the sunshine.

  It looked so bright that he thought he had never received a better welcome than the hotel was giving him at this very moment.

  There were flowers at the front of the hotel and even more at the back. When he entered the hall it was to find Mrs. Jones waiting for him, smiling with delight.

  She showed him up to his room where the sun was pouring in through the window.

  The Joneses had placed flowers on the dressing table and on the table by his bed.

  Frank, his valet, studied the room with approval. He was a good-looking young man, very popula
r with the female servants at home. But he had been glad to get away from Milton Park, as one of the parlour maids had, as he put it, “started to hear wedding bells where there weren’t any.” Now he was looking forward to pastures new.

  “I have just seen a very pretty kitchen maid –” he commented.

  “Behave yourself,” John told him, trying to sound stern.

  “Yes, my Lord. I would merely like to remark that I think we’re both going to be very much at home here.”

  “Not my Lord,” John reminded him. “Mr. Milton.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “And don’t make yourself too much at home or there will be trouble.”

  Frank looked crestfallen.

  As he walked downstairs, John thought that so far things were going well.

  He went into his office and found the book he needed as it would show him how many people had booked tables for luncheon.

  He reflected that he would be glad when Miss Campbell arrived. She was a clerk, and skilled in bookkeeping, so Robert had told him.

  “She is away at the moment, visiting a sick relative,” he had said, “but she should be back any day now. If there are any problems, she will take care of them”

  Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

  When he said “come in,” one of the waiters entered, saying,

  “Good morning, Mr. Milton. There is a young lady here and she wishes to book a room.”

  “Well, that is good news. What do we have available?”

  “All the front bedrooms are free, sir.”

  “Then show her in.”

  “First I must tell you, sir, that she began by asking for Mr. Dale.”

  “Robert? He’s in London.”

  “No sir, I think she means old Mr. Dale, the one who died a few months back. She says she met him when she was here before.”

  “I see. Thank you. I will go and talk to her.”

  He rose from his desk and was waiting near the window when the door opened and a young woman came into his office.

  For a moment John could do nothing but stare. This was the most incredibly lovely girl he had ever seen. Her eyes were large and deep blue, her mouth wide and shapely, her chin firm but elegant. Her hair was golden in the sunshine streaming in through the window.