This Way to Heaven (10 page)

She shivered as the wind gusted across the lake and she knew that only a few minutes of skating would warm her up and bring a healthy glow to her cheeks.

But still she hesitated.

Had she really promised the Earl this morning that she would not venture out onto the lake?

No, on reflection she rather thought that she had said she would ‘abide by his rules'.

Was that not the same thing as
promising
?

She bit her lip and clapped her cold hands together. She was far too honourable a girl to ever break her promise, but, oh, she did so want to skate!

Would it really matter, just this once, when the Earl would not even know?

‘Jasmina Winfield, you know very well how much it
would
matter,' she murmured to herself and sighed.

No
, she would not do it.

She had as good as promised and there was no way she would ever want the Earl of Somerton to believe that an American girl could not keep her word.

She decided she would sit by the lake for five more minutes and then go indoors to get changed.

It would be time for lunch very soon. Then perhaps reading a good book by a roaring fire would not seem such a bad way to spend such a miserable afternoon.

Just then a movement on the ice caught her eye.

There was the flash of a scarlet hood as if someone was sliding across the iced lake, not skating, but running and sliding like a child.

Jasmina peered harder and realised that the muffled shape was quite small and, from the long skirt, it was a girl.

Perhaps she was a child from the village sent up to the castle with a message and now hurrying to get home for her midday meal?

Whoever it was she was very obviously enjoying herself.

But as Jasmina watched, disaster struck.

The child seemed to trip up – perhaps her foot had caught onto a half submerged log – and she fell headlong onto the ice.

Jasmina watched anxiously, but the figure lay very still, right in the middle of the lake where she knew the ice would be at its thinnest.

“Hello, over there! Are you all right?” she called, but there was no reply.

Desperately she looked around for help, but there was no one in sight.

Well, promise or no promise, this was definitely an emergency and Jasmina could not leave the child lying on the ice. She could be badly injured.

Without thinking twice, she pushed herself out onto the cold lake and started to skate cautiously across to the motionless victim.

*

The Earl was sitting at the great leather-topped desk in his study pretending to work.

In his shirtsleeves and waistcoat he had a sheaf of important documents spread out in front of him. These were the secret Government papers he had brought downstairs with him from the hiding place in the ruined East Turret.

He tried to read them aware that if they fell into the wrong hands they could cause endless trouble abroad, especially in the powder keg countries of the Balkans.

The Earl realised that he should be concentrating on the notes and comments he had been asked to make based on the information he had been given, but his mind kept wandering away.

A pair of vivid blue eyes, cascading golden curls and a lovely but determined face just insisted on invading his thoughts.

A quiet tap on the door interrupted the pictures in his head and he thankfully called out,

“Come in!”

Mary appeared.

“Excuse me for interrupting you, my Lord, but will you be joining Miss Winfield for luncheon, or do you want yours to be served in here? If you wish to lunch in company, I will arrange for the meal to be served in the small dining room.”

The Earl pushed back his chair.

“Where would Miss Winfield go to eat otherwise?” he asked dryly. “On the stairs? In the kitchen?”

Mary flushed.

“Of course not, my Lord. I will arrange for her to have a tray in her room.”

The Earl hesitated.

He found to his total astonishment that he wanted nothing more than to sit opposite his young houseguest and talk to her about anything and everything that came into his mind.

But they had not parted on the best of terms earlier that morning and he had no doubt that she would prefer her own company at luncheon.

“A tray will do very well for both of us, I am sure, Mary,” he said at last. “I see no reason for the staff to go to the trouble of heating the dining room and laying up a table.”

Mary dropped him a short curtsy and left the room sighing.

Didn't the silly man realise that the servants would have been thrilled to have had something to do!

Mrs. Rush for one was becoming more and more irritated that her great culinary skills were no longer being appreciated.

Serving luncheon on two trays was not making any good use of such a fine cook.

The Earl was prowling around his study, picking up a book here, putting it down elsewhere, spinning the great globe until it squeaked and then slapping it shut with the palm of his hand.

He traced with his finger the outline of the United States of America and quickly found the City of St. Louis in Missouri.

It was right in the very heart of the country, a very very long way from England.

And soon Jasmina would be returning home and become no more than a memory, as he would to her no doubt. And not a very pleasant one!

He crossed to the window and gazed out.

Then he swore under his breath and strode furiously from the room not even stopping to pull on a jacket over his shirt sleeves.

In the distance he had caught sight of a familiar figure skating off across the deserted lake. Jasmina had defied him once more and was setting out onto the ice!

*

Jasmina skated slowly and carefully across the ice, aware that in places the colour of the ice was bluer and less solid, a sure sign that the water was not completely frozen.

When she reached the crumpled figure, she gasped.

A little face looked up from under the scarlet hood.

It was Florence, the young maid who had tended to the fire in her bedroom that very morning.

“Florence! Are you hurt, child? No, don't move. Let me see.”

“Oh, madam, oh, dear. My ankle's got all twisted. Oh, it 'urts me somethin' real bad. Miss Landrey will be that cross with me. Oh!”

Her lament turned into a shriek as the ice beneath her, warmed by her little body gave a sudden crack.

Jasmina caught her breath and tried to lift the girl, but she was too heavy.

“Florence, can you wriggle sideways – towards me. You must get off that piece of ice at once.”

“I can't move my leg, madam! I'm tryin'. Oh, I'm ever so sorry. It be my afternoon off and I wanted to tell my Dad about you and America. Oh, my leg 'urts so bad. Oh, did you 'ear that crack? Leave me, madam. The ice is goin' to break. You'll go under too! Oh, whatever will his Lordship say?”

“Never mind his Lordship,” Jasmina grunted grimly and flung herself flat on the ice, trying to spread her weight evenly over the wicked surface.

She knew that little Florence would have no chance if she was tipped into the freezing water. Nor would she, of course, but that was the furthest thought from her mind.

“Florence, now listen to me carefully! I am going to stretch out my hands and you must try to take hold of them and let me pull you towards me.”

The little girl was sobbing now, but she tried to turn and reach for Jasmina.

But her thick coat was obstructing her and Jasmina cried out in horror, as another loud cracking noise sounded and thin lines in the ice began to appear around Florence.

“Whatever you do, don't move! You'll go through the ice. Let me pass,” a familiar voice called frantically.

Jasmina gasped.

She had been concentrating so hard on the maid that she had not heard the swish of a sledge on the ice behind her.

The Earl was lying full-length on his stomach on a long wooden sledge.

He managed to manoeuvre it around Jasmina and with a huge pull from his strong arms the little maid came slipping and sliding across the perilous ice to safety.

Later Jasmina could not remember clearly how they escaped from the lake.

She was vaguely conscious of the Earl leaping up and throwing himself and Florence towards the thicker ice as the wooden frame underneath him began to sink into the spongy surface.

The sledge was abandoned to its fate as the ice gave way finally and the inky black waters swallowed it up.

Carrying Florence under one arm and with a hand ready to steady Jasmina in case she should slip, the Earl brought them both back to shore.

Jasmina could only just recall the sight of Mary and Fergus standing horrified at the edge of the lake, ready to take Florence from the Earl and rush her back to the castle.

“Are you all right, Miss Winfield?” asked the Earl.

She nodded.

Her teeth were chattering too much to speak at first, but then she said,

“I am only cold and wet. My Lord, you are still in your shirt-sleeves! You will take pneumonia if you don't change into something warm.”

The Earl ignored her.

“Sit on that bench and let me take off your boots,” he ordered sternly. “Your fingers are blue with cold and you will never manage the laces on your own.”

Jasmina did as she was told and sat gazing at the dark head by her knee as he knelt in the snow, tugging at the laces that were swollen and jammed by ice and water.

“You have saved both our lives today, my Lord,” she whispered at last. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart. And I can only imagine how grateful that child's parents will be when they hear of her lucky escape.”

The Earl glanced at her, his eyes dark with anger.

“I would not have needed to save anyone if the promise you made me this morning had been kept, madam! As for Florence, I expect that, if you had not interfered, she would have managed to crawl to safety. She is very light and her weight alone would not have broken the ice.”

Jasmina caught her breath.

He was accusing her of contributing to the maid's plight.

“I don't expect you to believe me, but although I admit I did bring my skates down to the lake, I had decided firmly against venturing onto the ice purely out of courtesy to your Lordship.

“But when I saw her stranded, I could never have left Florence to her fate. The ice was already giving way when I reached her. Surely you must be able to see that I had no alternative?”

The Earl turned his attention to the other boot.

He could feel his temper rising again.

Jasmina Winfield would never know how terrified he had felt when he could see her lying on the ice, reaching towards his maid, the cracks in the ice radiating out from around their bodies.

He had thought she would drown and had known then that his feelings towards this young American woman, although confused ran extremely deep.

He seemed to spend so much of their time together being angry with her, when all he really wanted to do was
kiss
her!

“Of course, if you tell me that is what happened, I would never dream of disbelieving you,” he said, his voice stiff and formal as at last the final knot in the laces gave way.

Jasmina kicked off her skates and hurriedly thrust her cold feet into the walking shoes she had left under the bench.

She picked up her skates and shivered violently.

The afternoon was drawing to a close and the cold snow-laden wind from the moors began to blow once more across the valley.

“If you will excuse me, my Lord, I will go inside. I can only thank you again for saving my life for the second time.

“Let us both hope that soon the pass to Debbingford will be open and I can continue my journey to my cousins. I am sure you will be only too pleased to have your castle to yourself once more!”

And with a toss of her golden head she turned and marched away back up the path.

The Earl watched her go uncaring of the freezing wet shirt clinging to his body.

There was bravery in every step she took and he realised that he would never forget the sight of her trying to rescue the little housemaid.

Suddenly he recognised that he really did believe what she had told him – that she had not meant to break her promise.

And he knew she was too fine, too honourable to tell him otherwise.

For the first time in many years, Richard, the Earl of Somerton felt ashamed of his boorish behaviour.

*

Back in the castle, Jasmina asked a maid for a bath to be prepared with water as hot as possible.

She soaked herself in the bath for a good twenty minutes and was drying her hair in front of her bedroom fire when Mary knocked at the door and entered bearing a note on a silver tray.

Puzzled, Jasmina read it,

“Dear Miss Winfield,

I must apologise for my ungentlemanly behaviour earlier. I have a great deal on my mind, but that is no excuse to offend a visitor to my country, especially one as brave as you. Please accept this as an invitation to dine with me tonight.”

And it was signed,

“Richard Somerton.”

Jasmina turned to look up at Mary, her sapphire eyes sparkling and her wet locks clinging to her cheeks in little curls.

“The Earl has just invited me to dine with him this evening!”

Mary smiled.

“So I understand, madam. And quite right, too, you being a guest under his roof.”

Jasmina crossed over to the dressing table, briskly rubbing her hair with a thick towel that smelt of lavender.

Reflected in the cheval mirror she could see Mary hesitating in the doorway, almost as if reluctant to leave the room.

“I wonder, would you help me get ready, Mary?” Jasmina asked impulsively. “I appreciate that it is not your job, but I am not sure if I can cope with my unruly mane alone.

“I could ask one of the maids, but I'm not sure if they have experience of putting up long hair for an evening and I do want to do justice to the Earl's invitation. If you are not too busy with other duties, of course.”