A Flight To Heaven (7 page)

The old man’s whiskered face peered anxiously out of the open window, as he added,

“If the young lady has no objection? Perhaps she has walked for long enough?”

Mervyn Hunter’s white teeth flashed in a smile, as he called over his shoulder,

“Absolutely, Lord Duckett! Lady Chiara is a little under the weather and does not wish to walk any further. I shall be with you in an instant.”

The window squeaked shut again.

“Ha – we were right outside the drawing room. But I don’t think that the old man saw a thing.”

He drew Chiara along the terrace so that they were out of view of the drawing room window.

Chiara’s heart was beating painfully fast. What did he mean, when he said that he wanted to take something from her?

“You must go,” she urged him as politely as she could manage, “they are waiting for you.”

“Let them.”

“Please,
just go
!”

Chiara twisted her arms inside his grip, but he did not budge.

“You don’t realise how much I care for you, do you?” he was saying. “Do you seriously think that I mean you harm?”

“Let go of me, please!”

“For, Chiara, this little thing that I am going to claim in recompense for all the attention I have offered you – why – had you not thought it might be something nice?”

Before Chiara could think what he meant or how she should reply to it, he had bent his head and brushed his mouth against hers.

His lips were hot and the touch of them sent a shock through her whole body. Her legs shook and she almost fell against him.

“See. Was that so bad?” his pale eyes had a strange light in them as they looked into hers. “Another one? No, I think I will make you wait for it.”

And then he did let her go and she watched him walk away from her along the terrace.

She was trembling so much that she had to sit down on one of the little stone garden seats.

*

“Remarkable creatures!”

King Edward VII’s manicured hand rested for a moment on the silky head of one of the tall white Borzoi hounds that Count Dimitrov had given him that morning, when he arrived at Sandringham to begin his visit.

“Alas, we have no wolves at Sandringham for them to chase!”

Arkady bowed, politely.

“I am sure that they will not mind, sir, to leave the dangers of that most perilous sport behind them.”

“How graceful they are,” the Queen remarked. “An ornament to any room they inhabit. I should think they would make excellent pets. Will you have another cup of coffee, Count Dimitrov?”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I am more than replete after your delicious luncheon.”

In fact, Arkady was feeling uncomfortably full. So many rich courses had been brought to the long table in the dining room and he had eaten far too much. He shifted his position on the small uncomfortable gilt chair where he sat.

“I cannot help but think, Count, that you are rather like a Borzoi yourself!” the Queen was saying, a Regal smile on her face. “You are so tall and you have the same air of strength and grace that they have.”

Arkady laughed.

“Thank you, ma’am. An unusual compliment!”

“We really do want you to enjoy your stay here at Sandringham,” the Queen continued. “This is one of our favourite residences and you must feel quite at home here.”

Arkady bowed again and now the King was asking him how he liked Norfolk.

“I have seen only glimpses on my journey here,” he replied, “but the flat landscape reminds me of my country estate in Russia. I should like to know more about it.”

The King looked pleased and he then told Arkady to wander wherever he liked in the gardens and grounds around the house.

But flowerbeds and prettily clipped bushes were not what Arkady really cared for that afternoon. He seemed to have been cooped up indoors for so many weeks now and he longed to roam free.

He could have gone to the stables and asked for a horse or even a chaise, so that he could go further afield, and he was about to do so, when something caught his eye.

An old bicycle was leaning up against the wall of the garden.

Arkady had never ridden a bicycle before and he wondered what it would be like.

Why should he not give it a try? He went over and took hold of the handlebars, noticing that someone had tied a rolled-up woollen coat onto the back of the bicycle.

Arkady wheeled the bicycle onto the smooth grass of the lawn, straddled it and launched himself forward.

“Hey!” a voice cried.

Arkady looked around to see who had spoken, and in the next moment found himself lying flat on the grass, the bicycle on top of him.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” a young lad in work clothes was running up to him. “Oh, excuse me, sir.”

The lad blushed a fiery red and took his cap off.

“I am Count Dimitrov,” Arkady said, standing up and brushing a few dead leaves from his trousers, “and this I presume is your bicycle?”

“Yes it is, um – Count Dimitrov.” The young man asked, looking anxiously at Arkady. “Are you hurt, sir?”

“Only in my pride. And who are you?”

“Jeremy, sir, Jeremy Jones. I work in the gardens, here.”

“So, how does one master this thing?”

Arkady picked up the bicycle from the grass and stood it on its wheels.

“Well, it’s easy once you know how!” Jeremy said and then he added, politely, “although I don’t know how many times I fell off when I was learnin’.”

“Show me how to do it!” Arkady requested.

Jeremy took the bicycle and demonstrated how to mount it and then how to turn the pedals and make it go forward.

Arkady tried again, but, although his balance was somewhat better this time, he could not seem to get the bicycle moving very well.

“It’s difficult on the grass,” Jeremy said, “because the ground is damp and it’s slowin’ the wheels down. It’s easier on the road.”

“Then let’s go there!”

“If you don’t mind me sayin’, sir, the grass is softer to fall on!”

But Arkady was already wheeling the boy’s bicycle towards the drive.

Jeremy ran after him.

“Sir. I would come with you, but I have duties in the garden.”

“Of course! Go back to work. I will return your bicycle when I have mastered the art of riding it.”

The young lad looked doubtful, but then the Head Gardener was approaching, pushing a wheelbarrow full of young plants and he knew that he must take them and start digging them into the flowerbeds.

So he said nothing as Arkady mounted the bicycle again and wobbled precariously away.

It was hard going at first and Arkady kept having to put one or other of his feet to the ground to keep upright, which meant that his progress along the narrow country lanes was very slow.

But gradually he found that he could keep his feet on the pedals for one or two complete revolutions and then he realised that the faster he went, the easier it was to keep his balance.

Suddenly the bicycle began to pick up speed as the lane took a gentle slope downwards. Arkady took his feet off the pedals and found himself flying forwards, his hair blowing back in the wind.

He had no idea where he was going, but ahead of him in the distance, he could see the sun shining on a wide expanse of blue water, which must be the sea.

*

“Lady Chiara!” Jonah dropped the bundle of hay he was carrying and peered over the door into Erebus’s stable. “Whatever be wrong?”

He had caught her unawares and Chiara buried her face in Erebus’s long white mane to hide the fact that she had been crying.

“It’s nothing, really, I am just a little upset.”

But Jonah continued,

“It isn’t that Mr. Hunter, is it? I know he’s here, as I had to take his horse from him when he arrived. I saw him speakin’ to you when he was here before.”

Chiara stayed silent.

She did not know what to say. She could not tell Jonah that Mervyn Hunter had kissed her and left her full of a strange excitement that was so strong it frightened her.

“A nervous creature the poor beast is, too!” Jonah said. “No gentleman should ride a fine thoroughbred horse like that so hard. Drenched in sweat, it was, when he gave the reins to me.”

“Poor thing. But I am sure you have taken good care of it, Jonah.”

“Indeed. I put him in the little paddock to relax and enjoy the sun. But will you not ride today, my Lady?”

She looked down at her silk skirts.

“I cannot, Jonah.”

Her sensible woollen riding habit was hanging in her wardrobe and she did not want to go back to the house to change, in case she encountered Mervyn Hunter again.

“That’s a pity, as it’s a perfect afternoon for a ride,” Jonah said and, as Erebus nudged Chiara with his nose, he added, “see! He agrees with me.”

“I
will
ride!” Chiara cried. “Saddle him for me!”

The sunshine was warmer than usual on this spring afternoon and it would not matter at all that she was only wearing a thin dress.

It would be Heaven to feel the soft wind in her hair, blowing away all the unpleasantness of luncheon and she did not intend to go far. Just a quick turn around the Park.

Erebus was a fine spirited creature with hot Arabian blood running in his veins and he was overjoyed to feel Chiara’s light weight on his back again. He knew that she would let him gallop, instead of trotting sedately along the roads, as he did for his daily exercise with the groom.

He tossed his head, tugging hard at his reins and he then danced over the gravel with little prancing steps in his impatience to be speeding across the Park.

“Steady!” Chiara told him, for it had been many weeks since she had ridden and she had almost forgotten what is was like to sit on an eager lively horse.

As soon as they left the drive and Erebus felt the soft springy turf of the Park under his feet, he broke into a swift bounding canter.

Chiara’s hair was soon tumbling down around her shoulders and she felt the cool breeze on her face as they flew forward towards a copse of trees.

“Oh, this is so lovely!” she cried out and Erebus flicked his little white ears back at the sound of her voice.

Suddenly a cock pheasant ran out from the trees, flapping its wings wildly and then darted right in front of Erebus.

The pony jumped sideways and Chiara felt the reins slip through her fingers as he leapt into a gallop, heading for the main gates that led out of the Park onto the road.

*

Arkady had lost all sense of time.

He was having a glorious afternoon, now that he had finally mastered the difficult art of staying upright on the bicycle and he sped along deserted lanes that wound their way between green fields until he had lost all sense of direction.

He had absolutely no idea how to get back to the King’s country house at Sandringham and he did not care.

He was free and he wanted to keep going on and on as fast as he could.

After a while, much to his annoyance, the lane that he was bicycling along grew narrow and overgrown and turned into a rutted cart track.

But still he did not feel like turning back, so he dismounted and walked on, wheeling the bicycle, until the track emerged among sandy hillocks with tall pine trees growing on them.

Arkady climbed to the top of one of the hillocks and caught his breath in astonishment.

Stretching out in front of him there was mile upon mile of glowing golden sands and beyond them, the silvery shimmer of water.

He had reached the sea.

He laid the bicycle down and sat beside it, gazing at the expanse of beauty that lay before him.

The wind blowing off the sea was cold and so he unrolled the old coat that was strapped onto the back of the bicycle and pushed his arms through the tattered sleeves.

The beach was deserted, except for a few seagulls and he sat for a long time, staring out to sea and thinking of his homeland, until the sky began to turn pink.

*

Erebus’s hooves clattered as he raced along the open road and Chiara soon gave up her efforts to stop him, as her arms were aching and something in her heart longed to just let go and let him carry her wherever he liked.

Soon she realised that Erebus was heading for the beach and for the vast expanse of smooth sand where in the past they had shared so many wonderful gallops.

As they clambered down the dunes onto the beach, Erebus paused for a moment to catch his breath and then he was off again, his hooves drumming over the wet sand.

Chiara cried out for joy, as it was like flying to go so fast, with the wind whistling in her hair and tugging at her silk dress.

It was as if at any moment now they would be lifted up and borne away into the glorious evening sky that was just beginning to show the first rosy tints of sunset.

Erebus ran and ran, until at last he began to tire and his legs began to falter.

“Come now, we must turn back,” Chiara called out to him, patting his shoulder as he slowed to a walk.

A cold wind was now blowing off the sea and she shivered, because her dress was wet where salt water had splashed up from Erebus’s hooves.

And then a different kind of chill struck her, as a tall ragged-looking, dark-haired stranger was walking now towards them across the sand.

“I thought there was no one here!” she whispered, feeling exposed and vulnerable in her thin dress as the odd figure drew nearer.

Who was he? And what reason did he have to be here in this lonely place?

Now he was quite close and looking up at her with a mysterious expression in his dark eyes.

“
Madamoiselle
,” he now began in a deep voice. “I thought your little horse had wings and I was waiting for you both to fly away, but you have come down to earth!”

Chiara dug her heels into Erebus’s sides urging him to move on, but he stood stock still, staring at the stranger.

The man remained where he was, a little smile on his face.

“Who – who are you?” she asked, looking at the ragged dirty coat he wore. “Surely you don’t come from around here. You don’t sound like a Norfolk man.”

He laughed.

“You are quite right. I am a visitor. And you, I presume, live up in the sky?”