This Way to Heaven (16 page)

“Listen, Jasmina, he is dead. They have taken his body away and the other two criminals have been arrested. They cannot hurt anyone again.”

“He would have killed me to get the papers and – oh, Richard – what about Florence? She was so brave!”

The Earl smiled at her tenderly. It was just so like his wonderful girl to think of a lowly maid before herself.

“Florence, I am reliably told, is safely tucked up in bed once again. She had apparently been given a tot of brandy in hot milk earlier because her leg was painful. So she was fast asleep and missed all the excitement when I was taken away. When she woke, she crept down the back stairs and realised that you were in grave danger.”

Jasmina smiled tremulously, remembering the way the small figure in a long white nightgown had flung itself at the bearded stranger.

“I must find a way of repaying her for her bravery. She did not need to put herself in such danger. I will think of a fitting reward for her courage.”

“Talking of courage,” said the Earl, playing with the end of the thick braid that lay across her shoulder, “I cannot begin to thank you for what you have done tonight both for me and for England.”

“I don't any need thanks! I was determined to find you and help as best I could. Everyone played their part.”

The Earl tilted her face up to his so he could gaze into the depth of the blue eyes he loved so much.

“If anything had happened to you, Jasmina – if you should have been killed or injured, then I would not have wanted to have gone on living myself!”

“Richard – ”

“No, listen to me, sweetheart. My feelings for you have grown deeper and deeper as the days have passed. Jasmina, please, please tell me that you don't think me a completely hopeless case and that you have some small tenderness towards me besides that of a good guest for her host?”

Jasmina reached up to push the dark unruly hair off his forehead.

“Richard! You have had my heart for many a day now. Surely you know that?”

With a little gasp he bent his head and kissed her tenderly and Jasmina felt herself fly up to Heaven with the sheer joy of his kiss.

Then suddenly there was a knock at the door and the Earl cursed under his breath.

Henry appeared, announcing that the Constable was still in the hall wishing to speak to the Earl.

“I will come down in a moment,” he snapped.

“He is most insistent, my Lord,” Henry responded apologetically. “He has the other two villains in custody and now needs your instructions as to how to proceed.”

The Earl sighed and smiled down at Jasmina who had sunk back into her chair.

“My night's work is not over, you see. Forgive me. I must go. We will talk again in the morning when we have both had a good sleep! Things should be more settled by then.”

And with a brief nod he was gone.

*

When Jasmina woke up, hours later, she was warm and cosy under her soft blankets and fine silk sheets.

She yawned and stretched luxuriously.

She had been having the most fabulous dream – she had been dancing with the Earl, his arms around her and they were wonderfully, wonderfully happy!

The light streaming through the curtains was bright and sunny.

“Goodness, how late is it?” she exclaimed and as if in answer to her question, there was a knock at the door and Mary came in.

“Mary! How good to see you. Are you all right? Not injured in any way?”

The housekeeper smiled gravely at her.

“Thank you, I am in good health, madam. Just so relieved that all has ended well and look, one of the village children found this package in the woods and brought it up to the castle. I do believe it is your passport and travel documents, madam!”

“Oh, that is good news indeed.”

Jasmina threw back the bedclothes and pulling on her robe hurried to the window.

“Why, it must now be the afternoon,” she declared. “You should not have let me sleep so long.”

“I am afraid we are all at sixes and sevens today, Miss Winfield. As you can see, a thaw set in a couple of hours ago. The ice is already thinning on the lake.”

“I must dress at once,” said Jasmina. “I do hope the Earl has not waited to have a meal with me.”

Mary stopped tidying the room and frowned.

“Oh, the Earl is not at Somerton at the moment.”

Jasmina stared at her.

“Not at Somerton?”

“Why, no. The telephone lines were repaired this morning and there was an urgent call from London for him. He left immediately.”

Jasmina tried not to let her disappointment show.

She sank down in front of the dressing table mirror and began to unbraid her hair, her fingers running over the locks that the Earl had touched so tenderly the night before.

“To London?”

Mary nodded, worried that all the life and joy had vanished from Jasmina's face.

“Yes. Word came that the way over the moors to Debbingford is passable. He left as soon as he could pack. I believe those documents that those dreadful men were so keen to steal had to be in London immediately.”

“Of course. But he will return – when?”

The housekeeper hesitated.

“Why, I don't know, madam, but I am sure he will not stay in the City a moment longer than he has to.”

“Did he give no indication of when he would return or leave a note for me?”

Mary heard the strained wistful tone in her voice, but reluctantly had to say,

“No, madam. There was no note.”

Mary hesitated at the doorway. Along with the rest of the staff and her own sweetheart, George Radford, she was convinced that the Earl had strong feelings for Jasmina Winfield.

He had become a different man since the American girl's arrival at Somerton.

Gone was the gloomy and despondent air that had surrounded him since the death of his wife.

Everyone in the castle had noted the change in him and there was no one who was not pleased and delighted.

So were they engaged? Surely an announcement would have been made if they were.

“Is there anything else, madam?”

Jasmina fought back her tears.

“No, thank you, Mary. I shall be down directly, as soon as I have dressed.”

When she had left the room, Jasmina stared at her reflection in the mirror.

What a fool she was!

What had she been thinking!

That the Earl of Somerton, an English aristocrat of ancient lineage, who could marry into the highest circles of Society, would propose marriage to a girl he had just met?

How ridiculous!

Everything he had said to her the night before had probably been said in the heat of the moment in relief at his rescue and that she had helped save his precious papers.

‘I accept that he himself had to carry the documents to London, but surely he would never have left without a word to me if his feelings had been as strong as my own?' she whispered to herself, wiping the tears from her cheeks with fingers that shook with emotion.

No, all she could imagine was that in the cold light of day, he had used the excuse of a long journey, far away from Somerton, to bring to an end the difficult relationship he could see he had brought about.

‘No note! Nothing at all! Well, that does tell me everything,' Jasmina thought grimly and dressed as fast as she could.

Mary was attempting to bring some sort of order to the Great Hall as she ran down the stairs.

Maids and footmen were clearing away the remains of the broken railings and washing and scrubbing the grey flagstones.

Mary looked up in surprise.

It had only seemed minutes since she had spoken to Miss Winfield and here she was dressed, ready to –

“You are going riding, madam?” she asked in astonishment, taking in the muddy leather trousers Jasmina had been wearing the day before.

“Indeed, Mary. I imagine my horse, Lightning, has been stabled overnight at the castle. That – ” she glanced at the place where the bearded kidnapper had fallen – “man was riding him, I know he was.”

“Yes, George found your horse tethered outside and one of the young grooms took care of him. But, Miss Winfield, where are you going now?”

Jasmina turned a bright forced smile on her.

“Why, to stay with my relations at the Parsonage in Debbingford, of course. It will soon be Christmas and they are expecting me to stay with them for the festivities. I will be grateful if you would arrange for my heavy luggage to be sent over by carrier immediately. I shall take just my small travel bag with me.”

“But his Lordship may be back soon – ”

Jasmina held out a hand in an abrupt gesture.

“I am sure he will be very busy in London and, as you can see, I cannot remain here at the castle, Mary. Why should I? I have always been an uninvited guest here and Richard – the Earl – has not asked me to stay!”

Mary swallowed her reply as Jasmina turned away, fearing she had revealed too much.

She looked in horror at the bright tears brimming in the girl's big blue eyes.

This was all wrong, but there was nothing she could say to make it better.

And so a small group gathered on the steps of the castle to wave goodbye to Jasmina as she rode away only accompanied by a young groom.

Mary had insisted she did not travel through the pass to the next valley on her own.

Although the snow had partially melted, the going was still bad and Mary knew it was more than her job was worth to allow a visitor to the castle to travel without an escort and, reluctantly, Jasmina had agreed.

George Radford joined Mary on the steps. He had come to the castle to fetch his little pony, the one that had played such an important part in the Earl's rescue.

He gazed up at the sky. The blue of the afternoon had gone and it was a sullen grey again.

“Bad weather is on its way again, Mary, my love. These old moors haven't given us much respite after all.”

She nodded, waving until the two horses were out of sight.

“I reckon Miss Winfield will just have time to get across to Debbingford before the snow returns! Oh, if only it had snowed again last night, the Earl would have been forced to stay at the castle and they may well have sorted out everything today.”

George ruffled his dark red hair.

“Gentry don't always think the same way as us.”

Mary sighed.

“Then the gentry are stupid! Those two are made for each other. Anyone can see that.”

George took her hand between his.

“You look real upset, sweetheart. There's nothin' you can do.” He bent his head and gave her a quick kiss. “Now, how about askin' Ma Rush to make me a nice meat pasty before I 'ead back to the farm?”

Mary bit her lip.

She realised that, as much as she loved George, the chance of them ever getting married was slim.

He was determined never to sell his rundown farm to the Earl and without that money, they would never have enough to set up home together.

For some reason Mary had been thrilled to think of a love story coming to a happy ending in front of her and now – well, she reckoned Miss Winfield was as unhappy as she was herself.

With tears in her eyes she turned away back into the castle.

George followed her frowning. He was a hard-headed farmer, a man of few words, unused to showing his emotions or even admitting to having many tender feelings.

But he did love Mary and hated to see her so upset. And apparently it was just because the Earl's romance with Miss Winfield seemed to have fallen through!

He paused at the top of the steps to gaze out across the grassy slope towards the lake and on to the distant pass in the hills that led to Debbingford.

Big fat flakes of snow were already falling and if it continued to fall and the weather closed in again, George reckoned that the Earl might find it difficult to return to the castle for some time.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

The Earl was a Lord and an aristocrat, but beneath all that he was just a man, the same as himself.

Did he understand women any more than he did?

The redheaded farmer had the oddest feeling that the Earl had gone to London believing that his young lady would still be here at the castle when he returned.

Females had flights of fancy that mere men did not. Miss Winfield had rushed away to Debbingford and now his Mary was all of a bother over the situation.

‘Well, I don't much care about 'is Lordship and Miss Winfield, but I'm damned if I'll 'ave Mary upset!'

And with a determined look on his face, George made his way back inside the castle.

*

Two days later, the snow that had fallen had frozen over once again.

The pond in the village of Debbingford was frozen solid and the local children had been skating on it in happy excitement at every opportunity.

However, today they were either in the schoolhouse or helping their parents on their farms, so Jasmina had the pond to herself, her blades cutting smoothly through the ice as she circled round and round.

The cold air stung her eyes and throat and this was the excuse she gave herself for the tears that froze on her pink cheeks.

They certainly were not tears of regret for the Earl of Somerton, she told herself crossly. She refused to live a life looking back at what might have been.

She skated round the pond once again, slowly this time.

She loved her relatives, who had warmly welcomed her. The Parson was an elderly sweet, kind-hearted gentleman, if somewhat absent-minded.

He could muddle up Jasmina with her grandmother, who had been his sister, as apparently they looked very much alike.

The Parsonage was also home to his two daughters, Hope and Faith, spinsters who were overjoyed to meet their American relative and did all in their power to spoil her dreadfully.

‘Yes, I am having a lovely time here,' Jasmina said to herself. ‘And I refuse to think of Richard any more. As soon as Christmas is over, I will be heading back down to London and then across the ocean to America. What a lot I shall have to tell my friends and family there!'