A Heaven on Earth Page 4

  Of course her Mama could not reply, but suddenly Aurora felt her spirits lighten as if someone had given her a hug and Aleppo tossed his head and leapt in the air with a joyful frolic.

  Aurora’s hat flew off, leaving her long auburn hair to fly free in the wind as they raced along and her troubled thoughts were swept away like so many cobwebs.

  The Westcott’s farm was a rambling cluster of old stone buildings nestling into the side of a steep green hill.

  And as Aleppo’s hooves clattered on the cobbles of the farmyard, two black-and-white sheepdogs ran up to her barking and wagging their tails.

  Mrs. Westcott, a motherly woman in a blue apron, came out from the Farmhouse with her arms open.

  “Why, it’s Miss Aurora!” she exclaimed, her round face blushing red. “I thought that the clock had gone back twenty years. You are the very image of your dear mother! I thought it was her come back to bless us with her sweet presence.”

  Aurora felt tears springing into her eyes as she slid down from the saddle and let Mrs. Westcott embrace her.

  “Not that I should be treating you like a child any more, Miss Aurora!” cooed the farmer’s wife, wiping away her own tear.

  “Now that you are so grown-up. Come away inside and you shall have a fine cup of tea.”

  Aurora led Aleppo across the yard and tied him up in the stable, which was filled with the warm smell of clean hay and made her way back to the farmhouse.

  “How are you, Mrs. Westcott?” enquired Aurora, as she sat down at the scrubbed wooden table in the spotless farm kitchen with blue and white china on the big dresser and copper pots and pans hanging on hooks above the fire.

  “Well, I have not felt myself these last few months. Right down in the dumps I have been. I can’t help thinking over the past and all the sad things that have happened.

  “We still miss your poor mother, you know, even after all these years. And there’s our own dear little Ivy too – she often comes to mind. There’s a sad feeling in this house, Miss Aurora, and sometimes I just can’t shake it off.”

  Aurora recalled that several years before, when she was quite young herself, Mr. and Mrs. Westcott had lost a little daughter to a fever.

  “I think it must be the hardest thing to lose a child, Mrs. Westcott,” she said, taking the older woman’s hand.

  “Why yes, my dear, it is, and not a day passes but I don’t think of her and sometimes I feel she is still here with me and it breaks my heart – ”

  Aurora suddenly felt a strange sadness come over her and looking up, she could see a small girl standing in the door that opened onto the narrow staircase that led up to the bedrooms.

  All Mrs. Westcott’s other children were grown-up, either married and gone away or working on the farm – so who could this little girl be?

  She was about to ask Mrs. Westcott about the little girl, when the child looked at her with big grey eyes and then shook her head and ran away up the stairs.

  “Mrs. Westcott, my hair has come down – may I just go upstairs for moment and make myself respectable?” asked Aurora, feeling strongly that the little girl wanted her to follow her.

  “Of course, my dear,” agreed the farmer’s wife. “I shall set the tea to brew.”

  Aurora hurried up the steps and sure enough there at the far end of the landing, the little girl was waiting for her.

  Aurora’s heart was beating very fast and she knew that something very important was happening.

  Phyllis had spoken to her often about her mother’s ability to ‘see’ things and how she felt so sure that one day Aurora would find the same power within herself.

  “It’s in your blood, Miss Aurora, just you wait and see,” she had said, her dark eyes wide and serious as she nodded her head, looking just like a wise Cornish pisky.

  “I think you must be Ivy, aren’t you?” whispered Aurora and the little girl nodded her head slowly.

  “And you feel sad that your Mama misses you so much, and that is why you have stayed with her.”

  The child backed away and put her hands over her eyes as if she was crying.

  Aurora shivered and then remembered other times she had talked with Phyllis about her Mama and how she had believed in the power of Divine Love.

  And how all the spirits that remained bound to the earth because of love or sadness or fear could be set free by that Love so they could take their rightful place in Heaven.

  “Listen, Ivy, you have been very good to your dear mother, but now your work is done and it is safe for you to go. She will not miss you now – she will be happy for you that you have moved on to a better place – ”

  Aurora held out her hands to the child and felt love and tenderness flowing from her heart.

  And then the deepest shock of joy poured through her body and, as she looked up, the little girl was gone.

  And a bright ray of winter sunshine was streaming through the window and shedding its light everywhere.

  Aurora stood very still, feeling quite breathless and shocked as she realised that something extremely unusual had happened and that she had never experienced anything like it in her life.

  She would have liked to stay there alone for a few more moments, just to put her thoughts together and try and stop her legs from trembling.

  But footsteps were coming up the creaking wooden stairs and then a warm hand touched her on the shoulder.

  Mrs. Westcott was standing behind her with tears in her eyes.

  “Why, I can’t believe it! Miss Aurora, I was sitting by the table and I heard you speak to someone up here and I was about to come and see if you were all right, because I know that there’s no one except you upstairs, and then I had the strangest feeling!”

  “Please don’t worry,” answered Aurora, conscious that her hair was still tangled and that she must look very foolish standing at the top of the stairs.

  “I am really fine – I just need to brush my hair – ”

  “I’m not worried, my dear,” replied Mrs. Westcott, wiping her eyes and smiling. “I haven’t felt this happy in a long time, it’s as if all the sadness that’s been hanging over this house has suddenly blown away like a big dark cloud and now the sun can shine again.”

  Aurora felt relieved.

  Mrs. Westcott was very red in the face from crying, but she did look quite different from the woman who had been sitting down in the kitchen.

  Her large blue eyes were shining brightly and the lines had vanished from her brow.

  “Why, that is wonderful, Mrs. Westcott. I am sure there is nothing for you to feel sad about.”

  “But tell me, my dear, who was it you were talking to? I was very puzzled to hear you speaking like that when I knew there could be no one with you.”

  Aurora hesitated for a moment.

  Should she tell Mrs. Westcott what she had seen?

  She plucked up her courage.

  “I saw a little girl. It was her I was talking to.”

  Mrs. Westcott’s red face turned pale.

  “What did she look like – this little girl?”

  “She was very slim with big beautiful grey eyes,” recounted Aurora, eyeing Mrs. Westcott anxiously in case she should be upset. “She ran up the stairs and then along the landing.”

  Mrs. Westcott took a deep breath and put her hands up to the sides of her face, holding her cheeks as she tried to contain her emotion.

  “I knew it! That was our Ivy. You saw our Ivy!”

  “I thought it must be her,” said Aurora, taking Mrs. Westcott’s hands and holding them tightly.

  “Oh, my dearest Ivy! Did she speak to you? What did she say?”

  “She didn’t actually talk to me, Mrs. Westcott, but I think that she was trying to tell me that she loves you very much and that she has been staying here with you all this time, because she is worried about you being so sad.”

  “I have been sad, Miss Aurora, as you know, but I wouldn’t want to keep my little girl here – ”

  Tears were
welling up in her eyes again.

  Aurora then squeezed Mrs. Westcott’s hands as she explained what had happened on the landing – about how Ivy had vanished, leaving a feeling of utmost joy and the bright light of the sun streaming in through the window.

  “Oh, Miss Aurora, what a really wonderful thing to happen. You have the skill your mother had. She spoke to me of it several times.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Aurora, remembering what Phyllis had told her about her mother. “Do you mean that my mother could see people who had passed on? Was that her skill?”

  “It was much more than that, my dear. Why, a poor lost soul would come to her and she would help that soul find its way back to its proper home – in the Light!”

  Aurora felt a shiver down her spine.

  Phyllis had never spoken to her about anything like this, but all that Mrs. Westcott had just said did seem to describe very well what she had experienced at the top of the farmhouse stairs.

  “Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Westcott. I think that is what has just happened. Ivy has moved on now, she is happy and free and you can let go of your sadness.”

  Aurora felt much calmer now, her legs had stopped shaking and she felt strong and happy with the knowledge that what had just occurred was an experience her mother had also known.

  “And now, I really must do something with my hair,” she exclaimed, running her left hand through her auburn curls. “I look more than ever like a haystack!”

  “Come along my dear, in here,” said Mrs. Westcott, laughing as she led Aurora along the landing, “this is Ivy’s room – we’ve left everything just as it was. And there’s a nice mirror on the washstand.”

  Ivy’s room was small and cosy with a low ceiling, sloping down under the eaves with a small diamond-paned window looking out onto the yard below and Aurora felt so peaceful as she sat down on the stool in front of the mirror.

  “Let me help you, Miss Aurora,” suggested Mrs. Westcott, picking up a comb from the washstand.

  Suddenly there was a clatter of hooves from down below and the uproar of dogs barking.

  “Who can that be?” wondered Mrs. Westcott aloud. “It isn’t time for the men to come back for their lunch.”

  She bustled over to the window and looked out.

  “Oh, my goodness. Oh, dear me. Whatever next? Forgive me, Miss Aurora, I must go down right away.”

  And she then hurried out of the room and down the creaking stairs.

  Aurora ran to the window and looked out.

  Down below in the yard, she could see a tall man in a top hat on a spirited black horse, which was pawing away at the cobblestones and shaking its head as if impatient to be racing over the fields.

  She heard Mrs. Westcott’s voice and then saw her rushing up to the stranger and curtsying respectfully as she approached him.

  The man raised his hat to Mrs. Westcott and Aurora saw that he had dark hair.

  She leaned closer to the window and heard his deep voice faintly through the glass as he spoke to the farmer’s wife.

  The man seemed to be asking her for something.

  Mrs. Westcott shook her head and pointed to the fields where the men were working.

  She was looking flustered and as Aurora watched, she disappeared back into the house and then returned with the bell she used to summon the farm workers at mealtimes and rang it loudly.

  ‘There must be an emergency, I will go down and see if I can help,’ Aurora thought, and without further ado she ran the comb through her hair, twisted it into a quick knot and pinned it up at the back of her head.

  She ran down the stairs and out into the farmyard, and the two sheepdogs stopped barking hysterically at the stranger and came to greet her with their tails wagging.

  “No, Spot! No Ben!” she called quickly. “Be good boys now. Don’t jump up.”

  She was so distracted in trying to calm the excited dogs that she had no chance to look up at the stranger on his horse, and she realised as she heard him speaking that she must appear very rude.

  “And who might this be?” the man was saying, as his mount fidgeted and fought for its head.

  ‘Why, he’s speaking about me as if I were a farm girl,’ thought Aurora, gently attempting to restrain the over affectionate dogs and pushing them away. ‘That’s not very polite of him at all!’

  “One of your family, perhaps, Mrs. Westcott, that I have not been introduced to?” he queried.

  Aurora looked up at him. He was certainly a very striking looking man with a strong chiselled face.

  As their eyes met, he swept off his top hat and then he stared down at her from his perch on the tall horse.

  Aurora held his gaze proudly, but felt conscious of mud on the hem of her riding habit from her earlier gallop and that her hair was starting to slip from its pins.

  “Why no, my Lord!” gasped Mrs. Westcott. “This is the young lady from Hadleigh Hall, only just returned from Paris. Lord Hartnell’s daughter, Miss Aurora!”

  The man laughed and bowed from the waist as his impatient horse turned round in a circle, its hooves slipping on the cobblestones.

  “Forgive me,” he called down. “I have just come to the neighbourhood. I am therefore not in touch with what is happening on the Social scene.”

  There was something slightly mocking in his tone, and Aurora felt uncomfortable, but Mrs. Westcott took her hand and drew her forward.

  “This is the Earl of Linford, Miss Aurora, our most distinguished neighbour.”

  Aurora was shocked at this revelation, as the Earl was rarely seen in the neighbourhood. Even her father had not spoken to the Earl for many years.

  His ancestral castle, although standing empty and in disrepair, was the most imposing building in the district.

  The Earl was smiling down at her,

  “So this is what they are teaching the young ladies in Paris these days, eh! How to cultivate a rustic style – mud on the skirts and a fresh country glow on the cheeks!”

  Aurora found herself blushing under his mocking gaze and was glad of Mrs. Westcott’s hand in hers.

  And what right had this haughty Earl to comment on her appearance in that way?

  At last he turned away from her and stooped to pat his black horse on the neck.

  “My horse has cast a shoe,” he announced, “and I don’t want to risk laming him on these stony tracks. I have come to beg assistance from the good Mrs. Westcott and her husband.”

  “And all the men are away at the top of the farm seeing to the cattle, my Lord. I have rung the bell, but they are taking an age to come.”

  “You have a fine horse,” came in Aurora who could not help admiring the fiery creature with its glossy coat and arched neck.

  “Indeed I do, and I have high hopes for him on the racetrack this year, which is why I would not risk laming him,” responded the Earl.

  “Then we must send for the blacksmith, my Lord,” suggested Aurora.

  “But who should go?” queried Mrs. Westcott. “Oh, where is Mr. Westcott.”

  “He is coming now, look!” cried Aurora, as she saw two men running down the hill towards the farm.

  It was Mr. Westcott and Adam, his youngest son.

  The Earl then jumped off his horse and he and Mr. Westcott inspected the hoof with the missing shoe.

  They both agreed that it was a proper job for the blacksmith, as Mr. Westcott was able to shoe a farm horse, but did not want to take the responsibility of shoeing such a valuable thoroughbred.

  The Earl prepared to mount and ride down to the village, but Mr. Westcott stopped him.

  “Do be careful, my Lord,” he cautioned. “You risk bruising his foot on the rough road. Let’s send now for the blacksmith. Adam, run to the village and fetch him.”

  Adam nodded and was about to set off, but the Earl looked impatient.

  “How long will that take? Can he not ride to the village? I don’t have all day to linger here. I am due back at Linford Castle shortly for an important
meeting.”

  “I’m sorry, my Lord, but all our horses are working on the farm today and it will take even longer to fetch them and get them out of their harnesses,” replied Mr. Westcott, shaking his head.

  “There is always Aleppo,” came in Aurora quickly. “He is very fast and Adam could ride him to the village.”

  Mr. Westcott looked very relieved and in a trice the grey horse was led out and Adam hoisted up onto his back.

  “Your little stallion is a goodly beast too” remarked the Earl, as Aleppo sped off towards the village with Adam clinging on tightly.

  “He was my Mama’s horse. My father brought him back from Egypt.”

  “His breeding certainly shows,” remarked the Earl, smiling at her.

  Now that he was on foot and not looking down on her from a great height, he did not seem quite so daunting.

  “I must thank you very much for your kindness in lending him,” the Earl continued. “It is much appreciated.”

  Aurora assured him that it was nothing and that she was happy to help.

  Now that he was so much closer to her, she found it hard to meet the gaze of his dark eyes.

  “Miss Aurora is truly the kindest of angels,” added Mrs. Westcott. “She always brings sunshine and happiness wherever she goes, just like her dear mother before her.”

  Much to Aurora’s embarrassment, she went on,

  “She has brought light back into our house today and all the sadness that has lain on us for so long has gone. It’s a rare gift she has – and no mistake.”

  “Indeed so,” said the Earl with a serious note in his deep voice.

  He was no longer smiling and an introspective and thoughtful expression had come over his face.

  Mr. Westcott led the thoroughbred to the shelter of the stables and Mrs. Westcott then invited the Earl into the Farmhouse to take some tea.

  “Thank you, good Mrs. Westcott, tea sounds a fine idea, but I should like to stay out here a while and breathe your fine fresh air. Perhaps your charming neighbour will keep me company until the blacksmith arrives?”

  Aurora wanted to leave and head back to Hadleigh Hall, but of course without Aleppo she could not do so.