This Way to Heaven Read online

  Jasmina recalled a very jolly American folk song her dear Mama particularly loved and was about halfway through playing it, when –

  “You play extremely well, Miss Winfield!”

  Startled, Jasmina’s fingers slipped on the keys and she looked up alarmed.

  The Earl was standing right behind her, leaning on the back of a chair watching her.

  “My Lord – I am so sorry. Have I disturbed you? Oh, no, I suppose you have come to continue your reading. I will return to my room.”

  The Earl crossed to the piano.

  “There is no need to. And please, will you stop apologising, Miss Winfield. Every time I see you, the first words out of your mouth seem to be ‘I’m sorry’!”

  Jasmina looked up at him her eyes bright blue in the flickering candlelight.

  “How incredibly boring of me! Well then, I will have to keep that phrase for an occasion when I may very well need to say it!”

  The Earl smiled.

  There was something refreshing about this girl. It was tempting to tease her just to see how she reacted.

  “Do you play, my Lord?”

  “I have no time for games, Miss Winfield!”

  Jasmina tossed her head, her golden curls tumbling across the cream lace dressing gown.

  “I think you know, as well as I, my Lord, that I meant ‘do you play the pianoforte’?”

  The Earl’s smile faded and he reached across to pick up a small oil-painting standing in a frame on a side table.

  “No, the piano was my wife’s. I bought it for her – from Berlin. I hoped it would amuse her, but Millicent was such a carefree and energetic person. She always wished to be out-of-doors and on the go.

  “She had no time for music, but I am certain that as she grew older, she would have loved music as much as I do.”

  “I believe your late wife was very young when she died so tragically, my Lord,” Jasmina whispered.

  The Earl sighed, the pain of his memories clear on his face.

  “Yes, indeed. Millicent lived here from the age of thirteen. She was my father’s ward and when I inherited the title three years ago, we were married. She was just seventeen.”

  He stood gazing down at the painting and silence fell in the room.

  Slowly and carefully Jasmina closed the piano lid.

  “I am very well aware that the loss of a wife leaves a terrible scar, my Lord, and you have all my sincerest sympathies.”

  Abruptly the Earl put the little oil painting back on its silver easel.

  Jasmina could see it clearly – a young girl with a cloud of dark curls, not pretty, but she had a charming and interesting face. If she had lived, she would have been an attractive woman.

  But the artist had added a stubborn expression to her eyes and she wondered just how much resemblance the picture bore to the original girl.

  The Earl pulled his mind away from many unhappy memories of a wife he had never understood.

  It had been sensible to marry Millicent.

  Indeed he had thought he loved her, but knew now that it had only been affection he had felt.

  One of his biggest regrets was that his heart had not been broken at her death.

  He had been horrified at the waste, but more than anything consumed with guilt that it had been his fault.

  It had been most alarming for him to hear the piano music drifting down the stairways into his study.

  Millicent had never had time to learn more than the few baby tunes she had mastered when a child, but this girl from America played quite beautifully and took full value from the piano that was still tuned regularly.

  “I will leave you to your reading, my Lord.”

  Jasmina stood pulling the cream lace gown tightly round her slender figure.

  The Earl frowned and she wondered what strange English rule of manners or behaviour she had broken now.

  Perhaps the robe was too flimsy to be worn outside her bedroom? But the silk was fairly heavy and the long lace sleeves and high neckline made it extremely decorous.

  “You seem determined to injure your health, Miss Winfield,” said the Earl, nodding towards the bare feet that peeped out from beneath the hem.

  “Nonsense, the carpet is quite warm and soft, my Lord. I will come to no harm.”

  His dark eyes flashed with impatience.

  “Good Heavens! If all girls from your country are as independent as you, then I pity your men folk! Listen, you have walked along a stone passageway to get here and unless you can manage to discover the secret of flight in the next few minutes, I expect that you intend to walk back again. You have had a severe chill and been extremely ill. Cold stones under your feet will do you nothing but harm.”

  “That, my Lord, if you do not mind my saying so is – Oh!”

  She gasped as he stepped forward and swung her up into his arms.

  Without another word he carried her out of the library and back to her room.

  Jasmina felt her world spin around her.

  Her ear was pressed against his chest and she could hear the thump, thump, thump of his heart underneath his thin shirt.

  Was it beating faster than hers?

  She doubted it.

  She had never felt so safe or secure in all her life as in the minutes she was held tightly by the Earl of Somerton before he placed her gently on her bed, bowed and walked away without a backward glance.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  During the night the snow clouds had vanished over the frozen Yorkshire countryside and the moon swam up into the midnight sky as the temperature fell fast to below zero.

  Jasmina awoke to a world hanging in a multitude of icicles, glittering brilliant white outside her window.

  She could hear dogs barking and the sound of sheep in the clear crystal air.

  A knock at the door heralded a little maid with big brown eyes wearing a bright blue dress and white apron.

  The pleated cap on her frizzy brown hair looked as if it was perched precariously on her head with the use of many hairgrips. She could have been no more than twelve years of age.

  She was carrying a heavy brass coal-scuttle almost as big as herself and her face was scarlet from the effort.

  She dropped a bob curtsy when she noticed that Jasmina was awake and proceeded to remake the fire that had gone out over night.

  Finally she sat back on her heels and announced,

  “There, madam, that’ll make the room snugger for you, I do reckon.”

  Jasmina pulled the heavy gold brocade cover round her shoulders and wriggled her toes in the chilly depths of the bed. Her breath was making little white clouds in the icy room.

  Old English castles, she decided, were indeed most romantic places, but extremely cold in the depths of winter, that much was for certain!

  “Thank you so much. That looks wonderful. What a good blaze. But I’m afraid I don’t know your name?”

  The maid smiled.

  Gentry usually did not bother to find out the names of their servants, especially the housemaids, who with the girls who worked in the scullery were the lowest ranked staff of all.

  “I’m Florence, madam.”

  She picked up her coal-scuttle and headed for the door.

  “Miss Landrey says for me to tell you not to ’urry getting’ up. She will soon be bringin’ your breakfast ’ere for you.”

  “Thank you, Florence. You are all being so kind to a stranger.”

  The little maid hesitated at the doorway.

  “Be it true that you’ve a-come all the way from America, madam?”

  Jasmina smiled at the awe in the girl’s voice.

  “Indeed, yes. My family live in a big city called St. Louis. It’s right in the middle of America, a very long way away.”

  “Fancy that! And would there be Indians and wild men and bears and things, madam?”

  “Well, many years ago, Florence, I expect that there were Indians, but not now. We do have a lovely big river called the Mississippi that runs th
rough the middle of the city, and on the river are exciting paddle-boats that travel miles to lots of different places if you don’t want to take a coach.”

  Florence’s eyes were wide and bright.

  “I’d just love to see that river, madam! Mississippi. What a very strange name! I’ve never even been down to London. But I went to York once with my Dad to see the Minster, which was very fine. I can’t wait to tell ’im that I’ve spoken to a lady all the way from America. He’ll be that pleased.”

  Jasmina laughed.

  “Well, if your father would like me to tell him more about St. Louis, Missouri and the Mississippi River, then I will be delighted to do so.”

  “Oh, madam!”

  The girl’s eyes gleamed with delight.

  “I’ll let ’im know when I goes back to the village on my ’alf day. That I will.”

  A noise outside the door made Florence jump and she scurried out of the room just as Mary came in carrying a tray.

  She frowned after the small maid.

  “I do hope young Florence has not been bothering you with all her chatter, Miss Winfield? We have so few guests at the castle that I’m afraid she has not yet learned how to act in front of them.”

  Jasmina pushed herself up against the lace pillows as the room warmed from the now roaring fire.

  “Not at all. She is so young and full of curiosity. Why, she is no different to the maids back at home who work for my family. I am sure they will want to know all the details of my trip to England when I get back to St. Louis.”

  Mary placed the tray on a small table and swiftly set out various dishes and a large pot of coffee.

  “His Lordship has had his breakfast very early and is out checking on the stock. He is very anxious about the sheep. Everything froze solid last night and Mrs. Rush, our cook, is busy trying to thaw out the meat laid out in the pantry otherwise there’ll be no dinner for anyone!”

  Jasmina now slipped out of bed and pulled on the beautiful silk and lace robe she had worn the night before.

  Had the Earl really carried her in his arms along the cold stone corridor back to this room?

  Or had it all been a wonderful dream?

  ‘I would love to go out and explore after breakfast, but what can I wear?’ she asked herself. ‘I think the staff would look askance if I came downstairs in my negligee!’

  Mary poured the coffee.

  “Oh, George Radford has rescued all your luggage, madam. I will arrange for one of the footmen to bring it to you immediately.”

  Jasmina looked up, her blue eyes sparkling.

  “How was it possible? Are the roads clear again?”

  “Oh no. It seems that just before the blizzard came and brought down all the telephone lines, the Duchess sent word to her staff that, as you were spending Christmas with your relations in Debbingford, they should close up Harley Grange for the rest of the winter.

  “Apparently she wishes to remain in London with her new grandson.

  “Of course, Mr. Reid, the butler at Harley, thought that you had already reached Debbingford, so he had your luggage packed and the cart was dispatched. But then the blizzard came and the carter could only reach The Golden Lion in Somerton village. George discovered your trunks and cases there last night and brought them up to the castle very early this morning.”

  “That was very good of him,” said Jasmina, eagerly spreading honey on her bread. “If only someone could tell me that my horse, Lightning, is safe and sound, my mind would be completely at rest.”

  “I am sure he will have found shelter somewhere, Miss Winfield. Animals have a strange way of being able to look after themselves when we cannot!”

  “Do please convey my thanks to George Radford. Goodness, I have yet to tell him how grateful I am to him for finding me in the snow and bringing me here. Has he left the castle again?”

  Mary now sighed and nodded and Jasmina noticed her pretty face had gone quite pink.

  “He has his own farm to tend to. Not that he can do much in this bitter weather. Horrid little place, it be too. If only he would sell his land to the Earl – well! You’ll not want to hear all my silly gossip. I will send up your luggage immediately.”

  “Mary! Wait!”

  Jasmina stood up, her curls falling in disarray over her shoulders.

  “Why won’t George sell his land? Will the Earl not give him a good price for it?”

  Mary nervously fingered the big bunch of keys that hung from her leather belt.

  “Oh yes, madam. His Lordship is a fair man and no one can ever call him anything else. He has made George a most generous offer for his farm, but there’s no one as stubborn as a Yorkshireman when it comes to land.

  “The Radfords have owned and farmed those few acres for many centuries, but it’s a bleak damp corner of sour ground. This year even the turnips didn’t grow well. The Earl would like to own it so he could link two big parts of his estate. He plans to drain the land and improve it.

  “But George won’t be budged, Miss Winfield. And until he does, we cannot marry as there is no money to be had from the farm for him to support a wife and family!”

  Then, as if she realised she had probably said too much, she nodded her dark head to Jasmina and swiftly left the room.

  Jasmina finished her breakfast slowly, realising that she was extremely hungry.

  She ate a boiled egg, drank her coffee and spread thick golden honey on soft bread, enjoying the good sweet flavour.

  She had taken a great liking to Mary Landrey, the young housekeeper, and now guessed that her feelings for George Radford ran very deep.

  Jasmina sighed and wondered what it would be like to fall in love with a man and to care for him so much that just to hear him speak would seem like Heaven on earth?

  She wondered if that was how the Earl’s poor wife had felt on her wedding day.

  Had she loved him or had it just been a convenient marriage, necessary for the sake of convention when the old Earl had passed away?

  Her luggage was brought into her room before she could ask herself why that should matter to her.

  She carefully unpacked her very warmest skirt and jacket and found a pair of thick stockings and old leather walking shoes in the bottom of one of the trunks.

  ‘Well, I will not look like a fashionable young lady but I will certainly be warm!’ she laughed as she inspected herself in the long cheval mirror that stood in one corner of the room.

  Just as she was about to close the trunk, she noticed a package wedged down one side.

  Why, of course! Her ice-skates! She recalled her mother insisting they travelled to England with her, as she had heard that at Debbingford there was a large lake and there was sure to be skating at Christmas.

  ‘I do declare that with this weather any local water will be frozen solid. I am sure the Earl must have a lake too. An estate like Somerton is sure to contain all sorts of exciting things.

  ‘If I cannot ride, then I will definitely skate instead. Goodness, I will go mad with boredom if I have to sit and read or sew all day until the snow melts. And obviously I cannot rely on the Earl for entertainment. He has made it very plain that I should stay out of his sight at all costs!’

  Jasmina pulled on her heaviest cloak and made her way down the carved oak staircase into the vast central hall of the castle.

  How wonderful it looked with the brilliant snow light flooding in through the small stained-glass windows, painting bright scarlet, blue and emerald patterns on the worn grey stones.

  She could only stand and admire with awe the great tapestries, the suits of armour and the patterns of swords and sabres high on the walls above her head.

  ‘It is all very marvellous, but all so very cold and severe,’ she said to herself. ‘Why, you could put some big blue and white bowls of flowers on those little tables and the whole place would look so much more cheerful and homely.’

  Jasmina made her way down a narrow corridor and found a door leading into the garden.
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  She gasped as she pushed it open. The view was so beautiful.

  She found herself standing on a terrace that had recently been swept and sanded so it was easy to walk on.

  A gentle snow-covered slope ran away behind the terrace down towards a line of willow trees.

  Behind their bare branches that bent down towards the ground, Jasmina could see the silver glint of an ice-covered lake and beyond it rose the smooth slopes of the hills that led on to the wild moors.

  “Oh, how wonderful!”

  “You approve of the Somerton estate then, Miss Winfield?”

  “Oh!” Jasmina turned, startled.

  She had not heard the Earl approaching.

  He was wearing riding breeches with high boots to protect him from the snow and a long, dark brown leather coat that snapped around his boots as he walked.

  “Yes, it is marvellous. So wild and beautiful.”

  The Earl gazed out over the landscape that meant so much to him.

  “I think you would like it even more in the spring. The fields are studded with daffodils and when the lambs arrive, you can see them playing in the pastures.”

  Jasmina sighed.

  “Sadly I will be home in Missouri by the time the daffodils appear. But are your flocks safe now, my Lord?”

  “Yes, quite safe, thank goodness. I have very good shepherds. They brought all the sheep down from the high ground before the blizzard hit. They have a second sense as to when the weather is about to change.”

  “I heard dogs barking when I awoke this morning and the sound of sheep, but no voices. Your shepherds must work extremely quietly.”

  The Earl laughed suddenly, his serious face now looking much younger.

  “I will tell them that, Miss Winfield. Although I think they would say that it is the dogs that do all the hard work, rounding up and guiding the sheep.”

  “I am anxious to explore. Would it be convenient for me to walk round the castle?”

  The Earl nodded.

  “Certainly. The terrace has been swept and sanded. It is quite safe.”

  He paused.

  He was so tempted to walk with her and show this young American all the glorious features of his home.

  Her high spirits was intriguing him and her determination to overcome all the difficulties put in her way.