To Heaven With Love

by Barbara Cartland

  She would have much preferred to remain in her room in the tall house in Mayfair with the curtains drawn and slept all day long.

  But Mr. Shawcroft had made plans.

  Lady Carysfort, an elegant and sophisticated lady, was holding an afternoon soirée at her large Mayfair home.

  Mr. Shawcroft had become acquainted with Lord Carysfort at various Racecourses all over the country and Dorianna had no choice but to do as her Step-papa wished and attend her Ladyship’s party.

  Lady Carysfort’s smart drawing room was packed with noisy guests, laughing men and ladies wearing tightly laced dresses and hats with nodding plumes.

  Dorianna stayed by Mr. Shawcroft’s side until he vanished into the crowd greeting a racing acquaintance.

  She found a quiet corner, where she leant against a windowsill, looking down at her satin shoes and hoping no one would notice her.

  She could not see anyone that she knew among the throng, although above the general hubbub of conversation, she heard a loud honking laugh that sounded familiar.

  ‘If I keep very still perhaps these people will leave me alone,’ she thought. ‘I will just imagine I am sitting on a fallen log in the woodland garden quietly all by myself.’

  The noise of chattering voices and clink of glasses seemed to retreat and Dorianna gave a deep sigh of relief.

  Her plan seemed to be working. There was a soft movement beside her as someone else leant against the windowsill.

  She kept her eyes fixed on her shoes wishing that whoever it was would go away.

  “You have found the one peaceful spot in the whole room,” a man’s voice intoned, so close to her ear that she jumped in surprise.

  “I am sorry, I did not intend to startle you,” he said. “I will not spoil your quiet moment, I promise.”

  His voice was low and gentle. She looked up to see a tall gentleman standing next to her, his dark eyes fixed on her face.

  He was lean and handsome, his skin tanned from a life spent outdoors.

  The young man smiled at her.

  “What were you thinking of just then?” he asked. “You looked so happy.”

  “I-I was just imagining that I was – sitting in our woodland garden at home,” Dorianna replied.

  As soon as she had said the words, she felt herself blush, as they sounded so childish.

  “A more delightful and pleasant place to be than in this crowded room,” he smiled at her again. “I do rather hate these functions, don’t you?”

  Suddenly a bulky man with a shock of pale unruly hair burst out of the crowd.

  Dorianna found her hand seized in a limp clasp and a loud high-pitched voice cried,

  “It’s you! I have looked everywhere for you – and here you are, hiding away just like a little country violet!”

  It was Lord Buxton, her Step-papa’s Best Man. He pulled at her hand, almost throwing her off her balance in his eagerness and pressed it to his moist lips for a lingering kiss.

  Dorianna could not back away as she was right up against the window.

  She could feel the wet heat of Lord Buxton’s plump fingers and his eager lips through the white kid leather of her long gloves.

  “Dorianna! The most glorious girl in the room,” he sighed, lowering her hand from his mouth at last.

  “Hiding her light under a bushel. Why, how excited I was when I realised I knew the girl everyone was talking about yesterday. The absolutely prettiest – prettiest of all the debutantes at Court! And her stepfather is my greatest friend!”

  The tall young man standing at her side now backed away, saying,

  “Please excuse me, I did not realise you had other commitments.”

  “The Earl of Claremont, by Jove!” exclaimed Lord Buxton. “Back off, you dark horse! The lady’s with me!”

  And he seized both Dorianna’s hands in his.

  She felt a wave of nausea pass over her.

  Lord Buxton’s breath wafted into her face smelling of wine and spirits and she could see great drops of sweat shining on his round red cheeks.

  She turned away from him to see that the tall young man was still standing by the windowsill.

  He looked into her eyes for a moment and she felt a strange thrill pass through her body. It was as if he was someone that she had known for a long time, someone who knew her so well that he could read her thoughts.

  “It was a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dorianna,” he bowed politely to her, before moving away and disappearing into the throng of people.

  Lord Buxton, still clutching both her hands, gave a honking laugh and then licked his lips, staring at her with his little blue eyes.

  He looked like an over-excited schoolboy, who had just opened a tuck-box filled with his favourite sweets.

  “Please excuse me,” whispered Dorianna, “but I am feeling a little unwell.”

  “Oh, dear me, poor little violet. Drooping for lack of sustenance? An ice, that’s what you need. Come with me and you shall be as right as rain in just one moment!”

  Lord Buxton thrust Dorianna’s hand under his arm and pulled her after him through the crowd towards a long table laden with dishes of ice cream and sorbet.

  He spooned a large helping of rich pink-and-green ice cream onto a plate and held it out to her, sliding his arm around her shoulders.

  Dorianna felt her skin crawling at his touch.

  His arm was heavy and clumsy and he felt so hot.

  “Really, thank you, I shall be all right. I would prefer a glass of water. If you would be kind enough to let me go, I will find one of the servants to help me – ”

  She tried to move away from him, but he pulled her back against him.

  “Won’t hear of it!” Lord Buxton shouted, his voice ringing out over the chatter of the people nearby. “Damsel in distress – can’t abandon you!”

  To her horror, he put down the plate of ice cream and took both her hands in his, squeezing them tightly.

  “You are so beautiful,” he breathed into her face. “I could tell you were a good-looker, when I saw you in that sweet blue bridesmaid’s outfit at old Shawcroft’s wedding – but today, phew! Stunning! I have got you now and I am certainly not going to let you go!”

  “Wise words, my dear old friend, wise words!” Mr. Shawcroft came up and clapped Lord Buxton on the back. “Keep the filly on a tight rein, that’s the way.”

  Dorianna was struggling to breathe.

  Her hands were still trapped in Lord Buxton’s and she felt hemmed in on all sides by the noisy crowd.

  Mr. Shawcroft gave a big smile, flashing his small pointed teeth at her and leant across to whisper in her ear,

  “Well done Dorianna! Just as I thought – there are more valuable things than diamonds. I am about to achieve a good return from my investment in you!”

  The crowded drawing room spun before her eyes.

  What did her Step-papa mean?

  The feeling of foreboding that had been troubling her all day now made her limbs shake and her head swim.

  Only Lord Buxton’s hold was keeping her on her feet, and the sound of his honking laughter echoed in her ears alongside her Step-papa’s sly triumphant chuckle.

  *

  Dorianna crouched down by the box that she was packing and pressed her hands to her head.

  Even though she was safe and alone in her room, the memory of her misery in that hot and noisy drawing room made her feel faint.

  Before she could slip back into the past again, she jumped as she heard a soft tap at the door.

  Who could it be, so late in the evening?

  There was another knock and a voice whispered,

  “Lady Dorianna!”

  It was the garden boy and he looked up anxiously at her as she opened the door.

  “A package came for you this evening, delivered by hand. A horseman came to the stable yard, but he wouldn’t stop, my Lady, just rode away again as quick as he came.”

  “Why, thank you!” exclaimed Dorianna, ta
king the envelope. “How very strange. I am certainly not expecting anything. Thank you so much for bringing it up to me.”

  She turned her attentions to the large envelope, wondering if it might contain a message or a gift from her fiancé, the man she had just been thinking about with such revulsion.

  But then she noticed that her name was written on the envelope in elegant spidery writing.

  An old-fashioned hand, she mused. It could not be from Lord Buxton. His writing was untidy, as if he always wrote in a great hurry and he used thick black ink.

  Dorianna took the package to her dressing table and sat down to open it.

  It contained a large sheet of writing paper and when she unfolded it, a bundle of banknotes fell out.

  She gasped with shock at so much money and her hands trembled as she lifted the note and read it, desperate to find out who could have sent it to her.

  “My dear Dorianna,

  I understand that you are to be married and would like to send you my congratulations and warm wishes for your future happiness.

  Recently I have been most unwell, and my doctors do not hold out much hope for my recovery. I am sad to think that I will never see you again, but, as you are moving to a new home and I am unable to travel, it seems unlikely.

  I realise that times have been hard for you and your dear Mama, and I know you will have borne all your difficulties with fortitude and grace.

  I should like to have chosen a gift for you, but have not been able to do so. Please accept the enclosed and buy for yourself something that will give you joy and pleasure through the years to come.

  I know that you will want for nothing when you are Lady Buxton, but it is always good, I think, for a woman to have a little of her own independence – a small something she may call her own.

  My coachman will deliver this package directly to you, as I do not wish to entrust it to the postman.

  All my kindest thoughts and wishes for your future happiness.

  Your most affectionate friend,

  William Bentley.”

  Dorianna’s eyes filled with tears.

  Dear Mr Bentley! He was such a kind old family friend. It was he who had given her Mama away at her wedding. How good of him to remember her, when he was clearly so very unwell.

  And how curious that she had only been thinking of him that very evening, while she sat at dinner, remembering his words of advice at her Mama’s wedding.

  He was a dear wise man who had foreseen all too clearly what was to become of Mr. Shawcroft and his wife and stepdaughter.

  She turned the thick bundle of notes over, flicking through them.

  There seemed to be almost two hundred pounds. Dorianna had never held such a large sum of money in her hands before and she felt quite dizzy at the thought of it.

  She had no idea what she might do with the money.

  Why had Mr. Bentley sent her so much? Perhaps she should just give it all to her Mama.

  But the words she had just read were still clear in her mind,

  “It is always good, I think, for a woman to have a little of her own independence – ” and she quickly folded up the notes and hid them under her nightgown in the top of one of the trunks.

  ‘Perhaps I should keep the money,’ she reflected. ‘I am sure Mama would want me have it, for she is very sad that she has not been able to give me lovely things for my trousseau and I will try and find a moment tomorrow to ask her what I should do.’

  Her body turned cold at the thought of the next few days, of her wedding and of the long years ahead as Lady Buxton.

  “However will I bear it?” she shouted out suddenly and ran to the window, pulling it open and leaning out into the dusk so that the evening breeze cooled her cheeks.

  Down in the woodland garden, she knew the same cool breeze was touching the marble cheeks of Aphrodite.

  ‘Help me!’ she murmured, ‘help me, Aphrodite, to be happy and help me to find love!’

  And she seemed to hear a soft sigh echoing through the leaves, as the breeze rippled through the trees.

  It was as if the little stone Goddess on her pedestal had spoken, whispering to Dorianna,

  ‘You shall, my young one, you shall!’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  At last all the packing was finished, each box neatly tied with string and each trunk tightly strapped shut.

  Dorianna blew out the candles and lay down to rest on her bed.

  The curtains were still open and the moon was just rising. In the soft light that came in through her windows, she could see the heavy square outlines of all her luggage lined up by the door ready for the morning.

  Her heart turned over and she felt sick again as she thought that this was her last night at Ashburton Hall as an unmarried girl.

  If she ever did come back, she would not be able to have her lovely peaceful bedroom all to herself ever again.

  ‘I must try and sleep,’ she told herself and turned onto her side, pressing her face into the soft pillows.

  She was so very exhausted that as soon as her eyes closed, her body relaxed and she fell into a heavy sleep.

  A couple of hours later, the moon was high in the sky and her room was flooded with its stark white light.

  She woke with a start, gasping and choking for air.

  She struggled to throw off her heavy satin quilt, as she tried to pull herself out from the terrifying nightmare that had overcome her.

  “Help!” she croaked and sat up, shaking with fear.

  The trunks and boxes cast long shadows over the carpet in the moonlight and for a moment, she thought that her bedroom had been invaded by a crowd of threatening strangers, all standing by the door to stop her getting out.

  Clutching the quilt to her, Dorianna looked around the room.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she whispered to herself, ‘there’s no one there and you are safe – it was just a nightmare!’

  A few moments ago she had been dreaming –

  She was riding across the country on a fast hunter, galloping over grassy fields and leaping over hedges and ditches.

  Her whole body was glowing with excitement, with the thrill of speed and the joy of freedom.

  But then Dorianna felt a chill of fear.

  Behind her she could hear the baying and snarling of a pack of hounds and the shouts of angry huntsmen, who were calling her name and blowing their horns with a loud honking note as they urged the hounds on to catch her.

  She dug her heels into her horse’s sides and felt the wind tugging at her hair as her mount sped up.

  If they could only go just a little faster, she would escape the hounds and she would still be free!

  A tall hedge of thorns was up ahead and the horse raced towards it.

  She felt her heart pound as the horse made a great leap to clear the hedge, but there was a crash and a sound of splintering branches.

  The sky spun around above her head and next she felt a great weight falling on her from above, pressing her into the ground.

  ‘I have taken a fall, just like Papa, and my horse has fallen right on top of me!’ she screamed to herself, as she struggled to pull herself from under the body of the horse.

  But the creature on top of her was now no longer a horse. It had been turned into a giant bird, covered in soft smothering feathers, and it was enveloping her with its vast bulk, crushing the breath from her lungs –

  She shrieked with horror as she fought to escape the monstrous bird. Then somehow her exhausted mind recognised that it must really be a dream, and began to pull her back to consciousness, back to the eerie white light that was pouring through her uncurtained windows.

  Now she was fully awake, Dorianna sat still on her bed, afraid to lie down in case she went back to sleep and found herself once again caught in the embrace of the giant smothering bird.

  Why had she had such a horrible dream and what did it mean?

  Her heart was still pounding from the fear of being hunted and her desperate effo
rts to escape.

  ‘But of course,’ she muttered to herself, ‘that is just how I feel, and how I have felt ever since I agreed to marry Lord Buxton. I have felt hunted and trapped!’

  Her eyes filled and tears ran down her cheeks as she remembered how wonderful it had felt, even though it was just a dream, to be free and racing away across the fields.

  “I will never get away now!” she cried, “I will be crushed and smothered – I will never be free – ”

  She threw off the quilt and ran over to the window, pulling up the sash and leaning out into the cool night air.

  Outside all was still.

  All the trees and their long jagged shadows looked black in the moonlight, but there were little points of silver light reflecting from their leaves onto the woodland path winding its way into the trees like a shimmering ribbon.

  ‘It’s like looking at a different world,’ she thought and she shuddered.

  It was eerie and yet exciting at the same time.

  ‘A world where anything could happen – ’

  For a moment she wanted to run downstairs and let herself out into the garden, losing herself in the moonlight.

  But the light was so strange and another unsettling thought came to her.

  ‘What if I were to go down to the stream tonight, and find Aphrodite and Pan gone – and their pedestals empty?’

  She trembled with excitement.

  The intense light of the moon seemed to be casting a spell over the whole garden and it was so easy to imagine the statues shaking themselves, stretching out their limbs in bliss and stepping down onto the grass to walk free.

  She stared into the ghostly woodland, searching for a sign of movement, longing for a glimpse of the graceful figure of Aphrodite wafting through the trees.

  From the treetops a thin piping song started up.

  Perhaps a bird was perched up there? Her heart jumped as something stepped out from the wood and onto the terrace.

  It was the little deer she had seen by the stream!

  She dared not breathe in case she frightened it.

  The deer raised its head, as if listening to the bird’s song, and she could just spy the liquid reflection of silver moonlight in its large almond-shaped eyes.