This Way to Heaven (12 page)

Then a look of pain swept across his face and she knew he was remembering the girl who had disobeyed him and died as a result.

She stood up, raising her gaze to find him staring intently down at her face.

His grasp on her hand tightened and she swayed forward.

His lips were so close and she knew he was about to kiss her and she was going to let him.

Then just at that very moment the door opened and Henry, one of the castle footmen, appeared bearing a pot of coffee on a silver salver.

Jasmina pulled herself away, knowing her face had gone as pink as her dress.

“I – I must go and wash my hand, my Lord,” she stammered. “Thank you for a – lovely dinner. I will not take coffee as I fear I shall not sleep if I do.”

Without a glance in his direction she fled from the room, picked up the long velvet skirt of her dress and ran up the stone steps.

She did not stop running until she reached the sanctuary of her bedroom.

Jasmina closed the door behind her and stood with her back against it.

Goodness, what could be wrong with her?

Running away like a stupid schoolgirl because a man had looked as if he were going to kiss her!

‘But this is
Richard
,' she whispered to herself as she sank down onto her bed.

And that was the problem.

She had to recognise the dreadful truth – she was falling in love with him.

A lonely widower who did not want another wife, who thought all women should know their place and obey every order their husbands gave them.

How could she, Jasmina Winfield, fall in love with this dark unhappy man who was so firmly rooted in his past?

What could she – a young woman from the New World – possibly offer him?

It was hopeless.

Why, she would be on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean in a few weeks' time. After Christmas she only had a few more days to spend in Yorkshire and then she would be travelling back to London to board a ship and head for home.

But as she buried her face in her pillow and let the tears fall, Jasmina knew that for all her brave resolutions, how she felt about the Earl could not be denied.

*

Down in the castle's kitchen, Mary and Mrs. Rush were finishing their supper.

There had been plenty of
consommé
and Dover sole left over and they had enjoyed every mouthful.

The rest of the staff were all sitting in the servants' hall, but the two senior female members of the household boasted the luxury of a little side room that Mrs. Rush kept for herself.

“Did the Master and Miss Winfield enjoy the meal, do you think, Mary? Not much came back to the kitchen, that's for sure.”

Mary frowned.

“I think so, but the young lady did not stay to take coffee with the Master. She went up straight to her room and Henry says he thought she looked a bit upset when she passed him.”

Mrs. Rush sniffed and folded her arms across her ample bosom.

“Now, Mary, you know I would lay down my life for his Lordship, but I have to say I don't have any great regard for his common sense. All this moping around over her Ladyship's death. It was an accident, fair and square. He ought to move on.”

“She was far too young to marry the Earl and settle down to all that responsibility, and so spoilt by the old Earl and his Lordship when he came back from India. Now this American lady – ”

Mary raised her eyebrows and Mrs. Rush nodded in agreement. Although they would never dream of gossiping about it, they could both now see that Miss Winfield would indeed make a marvellous Countess.

At last with a wide yawn Mrs. Rush heaved herself out of her chair and announced she was off to her bed. She would be up at five o'clock to start another busy day.

Mary said goodnight and spent a few more minutes working on her household accounts. Only Henry was still on duty because the Earl had remained in the library and might need him.

Just then a bell on the board above the kitchen door rang.

Henry looked up and scowled.

“Front door? Who can it be at this time of night?”

“You'd better go now and answer it,” said Mary, puzzled. “Before the Master starts ringing down asking what's going on.”

She sat pencil in hand until Henry returned.

“Well?”

“A visitor for his Lordship. Foreign gent. Seems very pleasant. I told him that the Master was not receiving callers, but he insisted I take his card in anyway.

“He must be someone the Master knows because he read the card and told me to bring him to the library. Then his Lordship said he wouldn't need me any more tonight. I'll be glad to get to my bed.”

“What a strange time to call! Did you get his name?”

Henry shook his head.

“It was a long foreign sounding one, that's all I can remember. And he mentioned that he'd been delayed by the weather. Reckon he couldn't have come far though, because his cloak was quite dry.”

Mary shook her head.

The strange ways of the gentry could be confusing sometimes. But then if the visitor was a foreigner, it was even weirder – in Yorkshire at this time of the year!

Still the Earl asked to see him. That was surely a good thing.

Why, what with the dinner with Miss Winfield and accepting a caller, things at the castle were looking up!

She put out the oil lamps and made her way silently through the great echoing hall to check that Henry had put the bolt on the front door.

Sometimes he forgot to do so and although no one was likely to burgle the castle, Mary always wanted to be sure it was quite secure.

She went back down the long passageway that led to the kitchens, through the green baize door and then jumped, her hand going to her throat.

A man was standing by the scullery door.

“Mary?”

“George! What are you doing here so late? You nearly made my heart stop. I thought you were a burglar.”

The red-headed farmer grinned at her and pulled her close for a kiss.

“Sorry, Mary, pet. I didn't mean to scare you, but I saw somethin' real strange today down at
The Golden Lion
and thought you should know.”

They sat at the kitchen table, holding hands across its white scrubbed surface and George told her about the foreign bearded man and the horse he was riding that had obviously come from the Harley stables.

“But what do you reckon that means?” she asked.

“I think it be the mount Miss Winfield were a-ridin' when she 'ad 'er accident. I can well see 'ow she was thrown as the 'orse just bolted and to be fair, this stranger might have found the animal wanderin' in the storm. But if that was so, why didn't he 'and it over to the authorities when the blizzard stopped?”

Mary bit her lip. George was right. It was all very odd.

She made up her mind.

“The Master has a visitor at the moment and it will be too late to disturb him when the gentleman leaves. But tomorrow morning first thing, I'll go and tell him,” she said firmly. “He'll know what to do.”

George yawned.

“Right, that's fine with me. You tell 'is Lordship. I don't want to speak to him.”

Mary's big grey eyes shone with concern.

“Perhaps if you two could just sit down and discuss your farm sensibly – ”

George stood up abruptly.

“No, Mary. I don't want to argue with you, but I'll not give up my 'ome, a place that's been in the family for generations, for a purse full of guineas. I've as much right to own land as the Earl of Somerton!”

With that he strode across to the back door, opened it and groaned.

“Damn! It's snowin' again! I wanted to take the pony home with me.”

“Bed down, George, in the scullery again. It might have just stopped by tomorrow morning.”

Mary smiled mischievously.

“And I like seeing your ugly face over the breakfast table in the morning!”

And with another kiss she left him and headed for her room.

*

The cold woke Jasmina from a restless doze. She realised that she was shivering, still lying on top of her bed wearing her dark pink evening dress.

She had cried herself to sleep, but she could tell from the little clock on the dressing table that it was only about two in the morning.

She got up, lit the oil lamp and took off the gown she had donned with such high expectations earlier.

How could she possibly have been
so
stupid as to fall in love with the Earl of Somerton?

That way lay great heartache because she was quite certain he would never ever consider her a suitable wife.

And that was even if he wanted to marry again and she was convinced that he did not.

Jasmina peered out of the window.

It was snowing again – great fat flakes that settled silently on the already icy ground.

She pulled from out of her trunk an old dark blue dressing gown she had brought all the way from her home in Missouri.

It was far shabbier than the wonderful concoction of silk and lace she had worn since her arrival at the castle, but she had no longer any wish to wear anything that had belonged to the Earl's first wife.

Jasmina brushed her hair and tied back the unruly curls with a length of blue ribbon.

She did not feel at all tired.

Indeed she had to admit that what she did feel – apart from a great unhappiness – was hungry!

She glanced at the bell pull by her bed then shook her head.

‘No, I cannot possibly wake up some poor servant just to get me something to eat!' she murmured to herself. ‘That would be so unkind.'

But the more she thought about her needs, the more desirable a drink seemed. A cup of hot milk would make her feel so much better.

Jasmina had no fear of the dark.

She knew there was always a lamp left burning in the Great Hall and there would be plenty of candles in the kitchen.

Impulsively she tied the girdle of her dressing gown tightly round her waist and slipped out of her room into the dark corridor.

As she padded silently along towards the stairway, she wondered exactly where the Earl slept.

Was he asleep? Or was he wide awake as well and ruminating about Millicent and the guilt he carried for her death?

As she reached the turn of the stairway that swept down into the Great Hall, a sudden noise made her stop.

For some reason the noise seemed all wrong.

There were always plenty of odd sounds in very old castles of course – wood shifting, mice scrabbling behind panelling, draughts lifting the tapestries from the walls and then dropping them with gentle little thuds.

But this noise had been –
different
.

Then almost at once a dim light appeared from the direction of the Earl's study.

Jasmina gasped and shrank back against the wall in the deep shadow. She could not bear to speak to the Earl again this evening.

Not until she had a chance to regain her composure and could pretend that he meant nothing at all to her.

She would die of embarrassment if he guessed she had any feelings for him.

As she watched her blood ran colder than the stone flags beneath her feet.

Three burly men came out of the Earl's study – two of them were half carrying Richard between them!

The Earl seemed dazed and was stumbling, as if he had received a blow and was half unconscious.

Another tall man in a dark cloak was holding a thin black briefcase in his hand.

By the light from the small oil lamp on the table in the hall Jasmina could see that he had a small black beard and the thin lips behind it were smiling.

He moved swiftly to the heavy front door and slid back the bolt.

Then before Jasmina could even think, the door had swung open and the four figures had vanished out into the snowy night.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The main door to the castle had just closed behind the gang of men carrying the Earl away when Jasmina sped down the stairs and opened it again, just a crack, enough to look out.

To her horror she saw the Earl being lifted onto a horse held steady by one of the ruffians.

Another man was leading the animal away, cursing vilely as he slipped and slid on the icy ground beneath the freshly fallen snow.

Jasmina nearly cried out in astonishment.

The dark bearded man had mounted a large black stallion that was pulling at his tight reins, hooves trying to find a purchase on the ice.

She would have recognised that horse anywhere.

It was her
Lightning
!

And suddenly her memory came flooding back and she could remember it all –

The Earl almost running her over in his car, arguing with him, then riding hell for leather through the woods on the way to Debbingford –

Men leaping out at her from the trees and grabbing Lightning's reins – being thrown –

And the man's face who had stolen her horse!

“Oh, my goodness! Oh, Richard! I must get help. The Earl is being kidnapped!”

She fled back up the stairs gasping for breath, then up another flight until she reached the wooden stairs that led to the staff quarters.

In desperation she hammered on Mary's bedroom door until it was flung open and Mary stood there, her hair tumbling over her shoulders looking alarmed and worried.

“Miss Winfield! Whatever can the matter be at this hour? Is it a fire?”

“No, raise the household, quickly, Mary. The Earl has been kidnapped!”

“Kidnapped?”

“Yes! Yes! Oh, do come. We must send for help. We must follow them. There is not a moment to lose!”

“What's all the rush and bother? Waking a woman out of her sleep.”

It was Mrs. Rush coming down the corridor with a heavy tread, wrapped up in a vast grey woolly gown that gave her the look of a small cuddly elephant.

Other doors now opened and several maids, Henry and Fergus appeared.

Voices were raised and for a few moments all was confusion and noise.