A Perfect Way to Heaven Read online

  ‘I am not ugly at least,’ she decided with a sudden giggle.

  Taking Serge’s cloak from the chair, she moved over to the bed and sank gratefully down. The cloak was her quilt. She would rest for half-an-hour before she set about unpacking.

  She was aroused some time later by the sound of a rattling coalscuttle. She lifted her head to see her maid bob up shyly from the hearth.

  “Shall I bring you some hot water, miss?” she asked. “Supper is at six o’clock sharp.”

  “Thank you, yes please,” said Elvira, glancing at the window. It was quite dark outside. She must have slept most of the afternoon!

  When the maid returned with a jug of hot water and warm towels, Elvira washed herself at the marble-topped table. The maid, whose name, she discovered, was Beth, helped her into her best dress and then attended to her hair.

  “There’s hardly anything to hold it up, miss. Do you have any more pins?”

  “None,” replied Elvira ruefully, remembering the way the wind had snatched the pins from her head the day before. “But there’s a ribbon in my trunk.”

  In her blue dress, her hair arranged prettily behind her, Elvira took one last look at herself in the pier glass.

  “I am rather too pale,” she commented critically.

  “Pinch your cheeks, miss,” advised Beth.

  “Thank you, I will.”

  Cheeks a little pinker, Elvira descended nervously to the dining room.

  Her uncle had been such a remote figure when she had visited with Aunt Willis all those years ago that her knees began to tremble as she crossed the carpet to greet him. She barely took in the figure of Lady Cruddock standing in the shadows.

  Lord Baseheart regarded Elvira from under bushy brows as she rose from her curtsy.

  “Dashed good looks,” he muttered, not altogether pleasantly. “Eh, sister?”

  Lady Cruddock, bristling in black satin widow’s weeds, moved forward. She was stout with a distinctly malicious eye.

  “You may have made a mistake in bringing her here, brother,” she remarked. “She puts your daughter in the shade.”

  “Oh, that’s impossible,” blurted out Elvira in shock. “I have never – hardly ever – attracted the least attention.”

  Lord Baseheart scowled.

  “Most disingenuous! But did you mark that ‘hardly ever’, sister? I’d say she was alluding to her recent encounter on the forest road.”

  Elvira’s heart skipped a beat.

  “E-encounter?” she stammered.

  “Don’t play the innocent with us, young lady,” snapped Lady Cruddock. “The driver told us all.”

  “W-what ‘all’ is there to tell?” asked Elvira.

  Lord Baseheart glowered.

  “You were caught in a blizzard. A young gentleman, who it seems never divulged his name, at least to our driver, rescued you. The two of you then passed the night alone in a cottage.”

  “Not alone!” exclaimed Elvira indignantly. “There was an old woman there.”

  “Pshaw!” Lord Baseheart gestured dismissively. “Deaf and dumb and half-witted, no doubt.”

  “Turn a blind eye for a shilling, I shouldn’t wonder,” put in Lady Cruddock.

  “No, no. She only – fell asleep for a time.” Elvira wrung her hands.

  Lord Baseheart and his sister exchanged a glance.

  “Can you then assure me, niece,” demanded Lord Baseheart, “that no improprieties occurred?”

  “None!” cried Elvira, in so heartfelt a manner that they seemed satisfied.

  “We shall let the matter rest for now,” said Lord Baseheart, “but let me warn you – you are never to recount your recent misadventure to your cousin. My daughter is of a singularly innocent and impressionable nature.”

  “I s-shall say nothing.”

  “Good.” Lord Baseheart looked her up and down. “I hope you understand you are subordinate to Delphine in everything and that includes your dress. This sapphire blue is too ostentatious. I shall ask my sister to provide you with more suitable attire.”

  “I’ll consider it a duty,” added Lady Cruddock grimly. “We can’t have her drawing the eye when Charles Rowland arrives.”

  “Indeed not,” agreed Lord Baseheart. “But hush now, for here’s Delphine.”

  His whole manner and demeanour changed as he greeted his daughter. He cast her a look of such doting indulgence that Elvira felt an unaccustomed pang of envy. No one had ever looked at her like that.

  “What a picture,” murmured Lord Baseheart, leading Delphine to the table.

  Delphine was dressed in yellow silk with diamonds glittering on her breast. She had powdered her face and reddened her lips and looked overly sophisticated for her age.

  “Elvira is quite jealous,” observed Lady Cruddock with satisfaction.

  Lord Baseheart and Delphine laughed while, as if in compliance, a rook gave a malicious caw outside the window.

  Elvira lowered her head.

  There surely could not have been a less auspicious start to her new life at Baseheart Castle!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The window of Elvira’s room must have been closed for some time for the latch was stiff and it took all her efforts to push it open.

  More snow had fallen during the night and trees and hedges were mantled. The sky looked dour and grey with a wan sun struggling to shine.

  A figure on horseback came into view on the road from the gates. Covered in a voluminous cloak, it was hard to distinguish whether it was a man or a woman and Elvira watched until the figure disappeared from view.

  A moment later there came the faint trill of the castle bell and Elvira wondered who this visitor might be.

  She withdrew from the window as Beth entered bearing a dress over her arm.

  “Lady Cruddock said I was to bring this to you, Miss”

  The dress was dun-coloured serge. Elvira’s heart sank but she gave Beth a determinedly cheerful smile.

  “That will be most practical,” she commented.

  “Practical if you was to peel apples in the kitchen or sweep the stairs,” replied Beth, who felt aggrieved on behalf of her new Mistress.

  “I am sure it is practical for a companion too,” declared Elvira firmly.

  Silently Beth helped her don the offending garment. Elvira thought it better to resist surveying herself in the pier glass. Leaving her hair loose over her shoulders, she was about to turn for the door when Beth restrained her.

  “Wait, miss,” she urged, fumbling in her apron pocket. “I’ve brought a clasp for you.”

  Elvira’s eyes widened as Beth held out the clasp.

  “But Beth – it’s tortoiseshell – isn’t that rather luxurious?”

  “You mean for a lady’s maid to have acquired?”

  “Oh, Beth no!” Elvira was mortified. “I meant, for me!”

  Beth softened.

  “My last Mistress gave it to me before I left. She was very fond of me, but I’ve no occasion to wear it.”

  “I would hardly call breakfast with the Basehearts an occasion, Beth,” said Elvira, eyeing the clasp ruefully.

  “Oh, don’t you worry. Miss Delphine will be ornamented for a ball! Why shouldn’t you have something a little showy for yourself? Here, let me just pull back your hair and fix it for you.”

  Convinced and not entirely against her will, Elvira bent her head. Beth secured the clasp and stood back to admire her handiwork.

  “There, miss, it’s you what’s fit for a Prince now!”

  Beth was reckless and partisan, but she made Elvira feel a little less neglected.

  Lady Cruddock was alone at the breakfast table and she gave an approving nod at the dun-coloured dress.

  A footman pulled out a chair for Elvira and a serving maid hurried forward with a plate of kedgeree.

  “Is Delphine – not joining us?” she asked.

  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake don’t wait for Delphine or your food will be stone cold,” replied Lady Cruddock. “
I don’t know how any girl could take so long over her toilette. She won’t be down for another half-hour or so, I’ll warrant.”

  “And L-Lord Baseheart?” enquired Elvira further, rather hoping she was to be spared his unyielding presence that morning.

  “He always breakfasts alone in his room, although he was disturbed this morning by a messenger.”

  Elvira remembered the figure arriving on horseback. She asked no more questions, however, and began eating.

  As she pushed her dish away, Delphine bounced in dressed in lime-coloured silk with an array of bracelets clattering on her wrists.

  “Cousin!” she called, eyeing Elvira up and down. “You certainly look the part now.”

  “Doesn’t she, though,” agreed Lady Cruddock with satisfaction.

  Delphine circled behind Elvira’s chair.

  “That’s a rather expensive clasp in your hair. Surely not a present from Aunt Willis?”

  “No – ” replied Elvira, thankful to be saved further elaboration by the entrance of Lord Baseheart, who burst through the door with a letter in his hand.

  “What is it, Papa?” cried Delphine.

  Lord Baseheart leaned a hand on the table, breathing heavily as if he had just run down the stairs.

  “From Charles Rowland,” he puffed, waving the letter. “There’s been a development.”

  “Development?” Delphine looked bewildered.

  “Rowland was on his way here when a messenger intercepted his journey to inform him that his uncle had died. He has returned to France immediately to attend to the funeral and to claim his inheritance.” He took a deep breath. “Rowland is now Prince Charles de Courel.”

  Delphine sank onto a chair.

  “I won’t have to wait then – to be a Princess!”

  Lady Cruddock, who had been listening intently, pursed her lips.

  “Don’t you forget that Charles Rowland was only considering the marriage in order to please his uncle and secure his future title. The old Prince’s death has relieved him of that obligation and you may no longer have a suitor at all.”

  Delphine gave out a terrible wail.

  “Papa! Say it isn’t true.”

  “Now don’t you fret, my darling,” Lord Baseheart soothed her, shooting an angry glance at Lady Cruddock, “it isn’t true at all.”

  “There!” trumpeted Delphine to Elvira, as if it was her who had uttered the dire warning.

  “Rowland – Prince Charles de Courel – has informed me that he wishes to honour his late uncle’s wishes,” continued Lord Baseheart, “and as soon as he has settled affairs in France he will return to meet you.”

  Delphine snatched the letter from her father’s hand and perused it greedily.

  “Why, he was almost here when he turned back!” she moaned. “I don’t see why he couldn’t have continued on to Baseheart, proposed to me properly and then returned to France for the funeral.”

  “Perhaps he felt too sad. He must, after all, have been very fond of his uncle,” suggested Elvira.

  “Fond? Fiddlesticks!” scorned Delphine. “I hope, cousin, you are not thinking to reprimand me in any way?”

  “I would not dream of doing so,” responded Elvira, looking down.

  “I should think not,” scolded Lord Baseheart. “Delphine is beyond reproach in every way. You would do well to profit by her example of well-bred behaviour.”

  “Yes, Lord Baseheart.”

  Elvira bit her lip. She was beginning to realise that the best policy with the Baseheart family was to agree with everything or say nothing.

  Returning thankfully to her room she discovered that Lady Cruddock had ordered her three blue dresses removed from the armoire. In their place were three dresses as plain and unappealing as the dun-coloured one. There was a sage green, a mustard and a dark brown.

  With a sudden ferocity, Elvira picked up the dustsheet and threw it over the pier glass.

  For many years she had existed without ever seeing herself clearly and at full length. One look in the pier glass had encouraged her to believe that she might just be as – as appealing as the stranger, Serge, had suggested.

  But her confidence was fading as even if it was true, what good would it do? Dressed in thick dresses of sombre colour, no rice powder for her cheeks, no vermilion for her lips, no fan, no kid gloves – who would ever notice her?

  Not even the clerk her Aunt Willis had so fondly imagined as her suitor. And never, in a thousand years, a Prince!

  ‘Even Serge would not extol my beauty now,’ she thought ruefully.

  *

  During the days that followed, Elvira found herself becoming increasingly despondent.

  If Delphine did not desire her presence she was left with nothing constructive to do but wander the echoing corridors of the vast and gloomy castle with nothing beyond the windows but a silent and white world.

  Her feeling of isolation was further compounded by the fact that she seemed to be an object of prurient interest to any servant she encountered. They cast pitying glances her way and she often heard whispers or giggling after she had passed. She felt they dared to do this because they believed her status to be almost as lowly as theirs.

  After one too many such occasions Elvira flew to her room in tears, where Beth looked up in astonishment from her mending.

  “Why, whatever’s ailing you, miss?”

  Elvira wiped her tears away quickly with the back of her hand.

  “N-nothing, Beth.”

  “Don’t you ‘nothing Beth’ me, miss!” scolded the maid. “Something or someone’s upset you and there’s no mistake.”

  Elvira hung her head.

  “Beth – everyone I meet seems to regard me with incivility. Is there – is there some story about me in the servants quarters that I should know about?”

  Beth looked away embarrassed.

  “Well, miss, as a matter of fact, there is. And it’s not savoury. Not that I believe it for one moment and I’ve said so many a time. But there’s some as thrives on gossip and innuendo.”

  “W-what is the gossip exactly?”

  “That you was abducted on the road to Baseheart by a servant and that you passed a night alone in a cottage with him.”

  Elvira took a deep breath.

  “I was rescued, Beth, from perishing alone in a snowstorm. And my rescuer and I were not alone in the cottage. There was an old lady there as well, I swear on the soul of my dear dead mother that this is the truth. Whoever says otherwise is a liar!”

  “I knew it!” cried Beth triumphantly. “It was the carriage driver who spread the lie. But I’ll hobble him next time he opens his mouth. Now you cheer up, Miss I’ll stoke up the fire and bring you a mug of hot chocolate.”

  Beth’s kind words raised Elvira’s spirits a little.

  Whether or not Beth successfully intervened below stairs Elvira never knew, but the looks and the whispers ceased. She might then have experienced a measure of peace but for her uncertain relations with her cousin.

  Delphine’s humour was so unreliable it made it impossible to know what to expect. Affable and considerate in the morning, she could be sulky and indifferent by the afternoon.

  One minute she treated Elvira as a friend and confidante, the next as a mere servant. She was as capable of clasping Elvira to her bosom and calling her ‘dear cousin’ as she was of coldly informing her she was in every way an inferior.

  Elvira, in a rare moment of indiscretion, described Delphine’s behaviour in a letter to her Aunt Willis, who usually replied to her niece’s letters tersely. However, on this occasion she dedicated much ink and energy in her desire to put Elvira properly in her place.

  “It seems to me that you are not accommodating yourself adequately to your new situation. Despite the blood connection you are in no way Miss Baseheart’s equal and you should not expect to be so treated. Whatever her lack of merits, she is your social superior so count yourself lucky that Lord Baseheart has offered you this opportunity to observ
e your betters at close hand.

  Perhaps you may profit from such proximity. At any rate, our paths have now irrevocably diverged. I shall continue to correspond with you should you so wish, but I certainly do not encourage such sentiments of self-pity and envy as were expressed in your last letter to me.”

  Elvira, reading the letter before her fire, sat back and stared at the flames.

  She had to admit that she had fallen prey to a degree of self-pity these last few days, but envy? Of Delphine? Did she want to be Delphine, have what Delphine had? She would not have wished Lord Baseheart as her father, that was certain.

  She folded the letter sadly. It was now absolutely clear she would never, could never, return to her aunt’s house and there was no sanctuary for her anywhere.

  There was only Baseheart.

  With this in mind she applied herself more resolutely to her new role.

  The days passed in card games, walks about the wintry garden and reading aloud to her cousin. She was never asked to accompany Delphine on shopping trips or visits to neighbours, but she learned to relish these periods of solitude.

  She was all but silent in the presence of Lord Baseheart and his sister and after a while an uneasy truce was established between herself and her hosts.

  *

  Then word came that Prince Charles de Courel was on his way!

  The castle sprang to life.

  Suppers, balls and hunting parties were organised.

  Lord Baseheart sent for local merchants and arranged for crates of champagne and boxes of cigars to be delivered. Orders were sent out to the estate for a grand slaughter of hogs and cattle, chickens and geese.

  Lady Cruddock meanwhile decided that she and Delphine should take the carriage to Gloucester to purchase a trousseau.

  Beth, sewing one afternoon while Elvira read, could not refrain from commenting on this venture,

  “Trousseau, pah! If you ask me, it’s what people call jumping the gun! The Prince hasn’t yet set eyes on Miss Delphine, let alone proposed to her.”

  Elvira looked up from her book.

  “But – there’s an understanding, isn’t there?”

  “An understanding isn’t the same as being fixed in stone,” grunted Beth. “This Prince is prepared to carry out his uncle’s late wishes, but he’s no longer compelled.