A Flight To Heaven (11 page)

She had to get out of the ballroom at all costs.

“Oh no, my darling, I must go back to Tom. Come and have some breakfast with us.”

Lady Fairfax was already heading back towards the sofa and it was easy for Chiara to slip away and go out into the cold freshness of the garden.

She was now astonished to see the sky beginning to lighten and turn grey in the East.

It was morning and she had been up all through the night dancing.

‘I should be happy,’ she said to herself. ‘I have had my first ball and for every dance there was someone who wanted to be my partner and I have received nothing but compliments on my dress and my appearance, yet my heart feels so tired and heavy.’

She walked along the side of the house, looking for a quiet spot and breathed in the fresh cold air, trying to forget the sight of Mervyn Hunter lolling on the sofa next to the man who was going to be her stepfather.

The morning sky now began to change from grey to pink and then suddenly Chiara’s whole body thrilled with excitement as she heard a strangely familiar noise coming from above the steep roofs of Sandringham House.

Swans flying!

The same wild swish of wings she had heard when she walked out over the Fens at Ely. This was much louder and there must be many more birds passing overhead.

She looked up and saw a large flock of white swans speeding past her, their long necks outstretched and their feathers turning pink by the dawn light. They were flying towards the sea.

There was a rustle of movement beside her and a footstep crunched on the gravel. Her heart skipped a beat.

A dark shape was approaching.

Mervyn Hunter had followed her!

“They are flying home,” a deep voice spoke from close by her shoulder.

It was the Count.

Now she caught the intoxicating aura of lime and spices that had enveloped her as they danced and warmth flooded over her skin.

“What – do you mean?” she asked.

“They know spring is coming and the ice is melting on the Steppes.” His low voice was resonating through her whole body. “They are now returning to their home and to mine. Mother Russia.”

“But, I thought they lived here.”

Chiara recalled the family of swans she had seen at Ely.

“Some do. But these great flocks are wild swans from the far North,” he told her. “When warmth comes back to the earth, they return there. As I must soon.”

“Oh!” Chiara felt a sharp pain in her heart. “Do – you have to go?”

He shifted beside her and she heard him take a long breath and waited for him to speak.

“Lady Chiara!” Lord Darley’s voice now rang out through the twilight of the dawn. “Are you hiding out here somewhere? Your carriage awaits!”

She jumped, startled by this sudden intrusion into the peace of the garden.

“It is you who must go,” the Count sighed. “Your people are waiting.”

“But I – ”

She wanted to say that Lord Darley was nothing to do with her, that he was not one of her ‘people’. But then she remembered that he would soon be her stepfather.

“Go!” the Count urged, his voice rising. “Or they will all be upon us. I wish to be alone.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. But – ”

Chiara struggled to find the words to tell him how much she had loved dancing with him.

Now footsteps were approaching and the Count’s dark figure moved away, melting into the shrubbery.

If only she, like the swans, could climb up into the air and fly East over the sea.

If
only
she could escape.

“There you are!” Lord Darley came panting up. “I told Mervyn to come and find you, but, alas, the old devil has fallen asleep. He really is a disgrace. He promised he would keep away from the whisky, tonight of all nights. Come along, Lady Chiara, your glorious Mama is already in the carriage.”

The Count had completely disappeared, leaving just a trace of his clean spicy scent in the damp morning air.

Chiara, her head heavy and her heart twisting with pain, followed Lord Darley to the front of the house, where the carriage stood, ready to take her back to Rensham Hall.

“Mama, what will happen after your wedding? Will you go to live with Lord Darley?”

Chiara hoped that the anxiety she felt did not show in her voice, as she took tea with her mother in the drawing room on the afternoon after the ball.

She simply could not imagine what it would be like to have Lord Darley sitting at table in her Papa’s place every day for the rest of her life.

But then what would she do, if Mama left Rensham Hall? Surely she could not stay behind all on her own?

Lady Fairfax was shaking her head.

“Oh no, darling. Poor Tom – he does not get on at all with his elder brother, Henry, who owns the estate. We could not possibly go there. We shall stay here, of course!”

Chiara felt glad for a moment and then her body turned hot and cold as she remembered Mervyn Hunter – for surely he would become a regular visitor at Rensham Hall once Lord Darley was installed here permanently.

Her feet still smarted from where he had trodden on them last night and her stomach turned over at the memory of his whisky-scented breath, so hot on her face.

Chiara looked down at her teacup, trying to hide the tears of despair that filled her eyes.

“Oh, my darling!” Lady Fairfax got up and came to sit beside her. “You must not feel sad. Tom is the kindest of men and it is my very dearest wish that we shall all live together like one big happy family.”

She took Chiara’s hand and squeezed it warmly.

“Forever, my darling!” she continued. “All together at Rensham Hall!”

Lady Fairfax was smiling at her, but there was an odd look in her shining eyes, which Chiara had not seen before, as if she was hiding something.

But perhaps it was just that she was thinking about her wedding and her life with Lord Darley and she felt that she should not talk too much about this with her daughter.

An odd wild feeling rose up inside Chiara.

She could see the swans in her mind’s eye, early that morning, flying out to the sea and she suddenly wanted to run out of the drawing room and keep running until she could go no further.

And then when she stopped running, she wanted the Count to be there, waiting for her and to hold her lightly and tenderly as he had done when they danced.

“Whatever is the matter, darling? You have such a strange look on your face.” Lady Fairfax let go of Chiara’s hand.

“It’s really nothing, Mama,” and Chiara tried hard to make herself smile.

“My darling, you haven’t fallen for someone, have you? For one of the charming young gentlemen you were dancing with? Please tell me you haven’t!”

Lady Fairfax threw her arms around her daughter.

“I cannot let you go, not just yet.”

It was all so unreal, for as much as she loved her Mama and Rensham Hall, as she heard her mother’s words, something deep inside Chiara wanted to escape more than anything.

“Darling, you must be very tired after last night. I am sure that’s why you are looking so pale. You shall take things easy for the rest of today. We are going to be very busy tomorrow.”

The odd bright look came back into her eyes and once again Chiara felt a deep sense of unease.

“Of course, Mama,” she replied, trying to keep a happy expression on her face. “I shall go and lie down.”

But even though her bed was soft and comfortable and the thick curtains were drawn to keep out the bright light of the spring afternoon, Chiara could not sleep.

As soon as she closed her eyes, everything swam before them and she saw again the swirling candelabra and the Count’s eyes looking deeply into hers as they spun and whirled across the ballroom.

*

The next morning at breakfast, Chiara’s feelings of dread and discomfort were banished by the appearance of a letter for her from Ely.

“Mama!” she cried, as she ran her eyes down the lines of Elizabeth’s neat handwriting. “I am going to be a bridesmaid. Arthur has arranged leave from the Army and the wedding has been fixed. Elizabeth will be so happy.”

“Well, well. And when is this to be? I am not sure I can spare you, darling.”

A cloud passed over Lady Fairfax’s face and she looked suddenly worried.

“It’s very soon, Mama. Oh, and Elizabeth will be going to India. That is why they are getting married so quickly. Arthur has been posted out there.”

“Well – I suppose you will not be away for too long and you must not forget in all the excitement that you have a much more important wedding to consider.”

“Of course not, Mama. I shall be a bridesmaid twice!”

Lady Fairfax then raised her eyebrows as if she was about to say something, but, although Chiara was waiting to hear what it was, her Mama remained silent.

Chiara finished her breakfast and helped herself to a handful of sugar lumps.

She was glad to leave the table and go outside into the fresh sunny morning.

Erebus’s white coat shone brightly and he showed no signs of lameness as he trotted up to the paddock gate to greet her.

She stroked his nose and whispered to him, telling him how happy she was that he was better.

But the peaceful moment was then interrupted by a clatter of hooves on the drive. Two riders were rapidly approaching Rensham Hall and Chiara’s heart sank as she recognised the tall silhouette of Mervyn Hunter.

*

“I cannot believe we will not see you again!” Mrs. Fulwell’s faded English-rose cheeks were crumpled with dismay. “Why, I have called to invite you to join us for a visit to the Opera.”

“Alas, the next time I sit down in a theatre it will be the Maryinsky!” Arkady said and his heart felt suddenly winged and light at the thought of the long journey he was about to begin.

And he mused about the glorious Maryinsky, the most famous theatre in Russia, where the very best singers and dancers in the world performed before the Czar and Czarina and all the assembled Nobility.

“You are so impulsive, Count,” Mrs. Fulwell was saying. “Why, you have only just returned from your visit to Sandringham. Marigold and Eglantine will be absolutely desolate. They have been so looking forward to seeing you again.”

‘So who can she be talking about?’ Arkady thought and then he remembered the two awkward fair-haired girls who had come to visit a few weeks previously and who had spluttered so impolitely over their glasses of Russian tea.

He had completely forgotten about them. He looked at Mrs. Fulwell, disappointment so clearly written on her face and realised that she had been hoping he might fall in love with one of her girls.

Would he ever escape the ceaseless attentions from mothers desperate to foist their unmarried daughters upon him?

And Mrs. Fulwell was not even a member of the aristocracy. She was setting her ambitions very high.

He felt a twitch of amusement.

“Well,
madame
, you must look me up when you are in St. Petersburg. My mother, the Dowager Countess, will be very delighted to make your acquaintance.”

He could not believe that this little Englishwoman would ever manage the long journey to Russia. The very thought of her and her silly daughters entering the great salon at his Palace!

The expression on his mother’s aristocratic face, if they should suddenly arrive and announce themselves as his guests! That would soon put them to flight!

The laughter that bubbled up inside him subsided and a sweet painful vision sprang up in its place.

The beautiful dark-haired angel, so slim and so wild and so exquisite in her soft white dress, would not be out of place in the salon. She would easily meet the noble gaze of the Countess with perfect grace.

“Why, Count! That is most generous of you.” Mrs. Fulwell’s face was pink with pleasure. “I shall certainly do so, if we ever come to Russia.”

The Count bowed and made his profuse apologies. The butler would bring coffee for her, but he could not stay to enjoy her company. He must prepare for the journey.

He left the drawing room, his mind still full of the enchanting angel he had danced with. If only it had been she who had come to take tea with him.

He pictured her, sitting gracefully on the sofa in this cramped London drawing room, her tea glass held in her slender hand and her magical blue eyes fixed on his, full of the wildness and beauty of the open sea and sky.

If she was here this afternoon, he would not be in such a hurry to leave. But then the voice of reason spoke up, banishing his daydream,

‘Arkady, you are a complete idiot. She is nothing but a frivolous English Society girl – a little prettier than the rest, maybe, and a better horsewoman!

‘She belongs with that crowd of drunken fools who fell about on the dance floor. You are deceiving yourself, if you think she is anything more.’

His heart shrank inside him, but he could not ignore the scenes he had witnessed in the ballroom. The sooner he was back in St. Petersburg, the better.

*

“Sweetheart! Why are you being so distant?”

Mervyn Hunter’s cold eyes were fixed on Chiara’s face, as he stood with his booted legs wide apart on the carpet in front of the drawing room fire.

She flinched at the sound of the word ‘sweetheart’.

But he was behaving with unexpected politeness and formality. There was no trace of the awful lop-sided, drunken grin she had seen on his face last night and he was freshly shaved and wearing a smart suit.

They were alone together in the drawing room.

Lady Fairfax and Lord Darley were in the garden, discussing some new arrangements of plants. Chiara could see them, wandering amongst the flowerbeds and holding hands, from where she stood by the window.

“How can I speak properly to you when you are on the other side of the room?” Mervyn Hunter was saying.

“I hear you perfectly,” Chiara replied coldly.

He frowned at her and slapped his boot with the riding crop he carried. She did not like the sudden angry expression in his eyes and turned to look outside.

“What I have to say to you, Chiara, is important. I am not prepared to say it to your back, charming as it is.”