Now from her bedroom window, Jasmina gazed out at the distant castle.
She would have loved to have met the Earl.
He sounded such a romantic, tragic figure. Like a character in a novel.
But now she was leaving the district, even though temporarily, so there would be no immediate opportunity for their paths to cross.
*
The next day dawned cold and dull and the sullen sky hung grey over the Yorkshire countryside threatening snow later in the day.
Richard, the Earl of Somerton, sat drinking coffee in the dismal breakfast room of Somerton Castle.
He had told his staff not to bother lighting the fire this morning, because he was going to be away from home in London for a few days.
But now he shivered in the chilly room.
“More coffee, my Lord?”
His housekeeper, Mary Landrey, was at his shoulder.
“No, thank you, Mary. And you can clear away the food as well.”
She bit her lip as she could see that he had eaten nothing. The hot dishes of crispy bacon, succulent local sausages and scrambled egg remained untouched.
“Shall I ask cook for more toast, my Lord? We do have some new plum preserve and – ”
“Nothing, thank you, Mary. I shall be leaving for London within minutes. But do make sure this food does not go to waste. I am sure the staff will enjoy it.”
She bent her head in exasperated acknowledgement and signalled to Gladys, the maid, to clear away.
The breakfast would all go to waste. The servants would be appalled to be offered cold eggs and bacon!
Mary watched from the door as the Earl stirred his coffee. She could tell he was in one of his black moods, those great bouts of depression that came down on him like thunder clouds.
She sighed and twisted her hands together under her white starched apron.
She had wanted to speak to her Master today about George Radford, but this was obviously not a good time.
Mary was slim and dark-haired with worried grey eyes. At twenty-five years old, she was rather young for her position as housekeeper to a great castle and family, but in reality her job was very simple as the Earl no longer entertained or had visitors.
It had all been so different some years ago, when she had been appointed lady’s maid to Millicent, the late Lady Somerton.
Millicent had only been thirteen when her parents died in a tragic boating accident on the River Thames in London and she had been left as ward to the then Earl of Somerton.
People had felt pity for a young girl going to live with such a brusque military man, but as it turned out he had doted on the child, giving her everything she desired and never saying no to whatever fancy she asked for.
Then three years ago, when Millicent was sixteen, the old Earl had died and his son Richard, who had been away in India in the Army, had inherited the title.
On his return to England, he had married the young Millicent and Mary had been promoted from parlourmaid to lady’s maid.
It was difficult looking at the Earl’s serious dark eyes and frowning expression to recall those happier days. There had been parties, dinners, dancing and music.
Privately Mary had never reckoned the Earl to be deeply in love with his young wife, but, like his father before him, he had indulged her every whim and that some whispered had cost her life.
And when pretty silly Lady Somerton died in that dreadful accident, the Earl had shut up most of the castle and shunned the world.
Mary had thought she would be out of a job, but to her great surprise the Earl had offered her the position of housekeeper.
Why had she accepted his offer? Life at the castle was bleakly quiet these days.
The Earl had a very uncertain temper and the black moods that descended on him made him a difficult employer.
But if she was honest, she knew why.
Mary had given her heart to a young local farmer, George Radford, and although he told her he could not afford to marry her, she knew she would never willingly move from Somerton to a place where she might never see George again.
“I shall be away for two or three days in London, Mary,” the Earl said, standing up abruptly. “You can, of course, reach me at the Knightsbridge house if there are any emergencies.”
“Yes, my Lord. Shall I ask Mills to bring the car round at once?”
“Yes, please do so. I have told Fergus he need not accompany me and tell Mills I will drive myself.”
Mary sighed.
It seemed that the Earl no longer even wished for the company of his valet or chauffeur when he travelled to London.
He was withdrawing himself more and more from the world. It was exceedingly worrying, but there was no one she could talk to about the problem.
She made her way back along the stone passage, through the baize door that led to the kitchen and told Mills to bring the car to the castle courtyard.
Mrs. Rush, the cook, gave her a sharpish look and poured her out a large mug of tea.
“Driving himself again, is he?”
Mary nodded.
“Not even taking Fergus with him.”
Mrs. Rush pursed her lips in annoyance and pushed down the sleeves of the black dress she wore under her voluminous white apron.
She was a stout jolly Yorkshire woman with a mop of grey curls she kept bundled up under a big white frilly cap. Her round face was red with the heat from the stove.
“It b’aint right, the Lord goin’ to London without any servants to attend him. What will the Knightsbridge staff think of us? They’ll reckon we’re no better than poor savages who know no better how to behave!”
“I know, Mrs. Rush, but what can we do? He even told Fergus to tell the Reverend Parker he was not at home when the vicar called! And Doctor Meade was very put out when he rode over from Debbingford just to call on his Lordship and was told he could not be seen.”
“From what young Gladys brought downstairs, his Lordship has only had one cup of coffee this mornin’ and no breakfast at all. Not even a small spoonful of my lovely porridge. And him travellin’ all the way to London!”
She banged down the mixing bowl she was holding on the table and began to pummel the dough inside it.
“It b’aint right, Mary. I’d hoped he would begin to come out of his grief this year, but he seems to be gettin’ worse. All callers are turned away, even the Duchess of Harley was told he was not at home!
“And there’s to be no Christmas party for the staff, I hear. And no Christmas tree! That’s shameful, so it is!”
The dough was given another fierce pummelling.
“I blame that silly girl gettin’ herself killed!”
“Mrs. Rush! You must not speak ill of the dead. She was my Lady and a nice little thing, even if she was a scatterbrain.”
Cook sniffed disdainfully. She had been in service at the castle since the Earl was a baby. All her loyalty lay with him.
And like most of the old family retainers, she was well aware that there was no direct heir at the moment.
If anything, God forbid, should happen to the Earl, then the title would pass to a very distant cousin who kept sheep out in Australia.
She glanced at Mary’s drawn and worried face.
“Did you get a chance to mention that George Radford to his Lordship?”
Mary shook her head.
“It didn’t seem to be the right time. Oh, Mrs. Rush, if only George would sell his little plot of land to the Earl! It’s not large enough to support a family and the Earl has offered George a good sum for it, especially as it separates those two big woods he’s so fond of riding in. If George had the money, we could afford to get married.”
“Ah, it’s all about his pride with George Radford,” cook said darkly. “He says that there piece of damp old ground has been in his family for as long as the Somerton estate has been in theirs!”
Mary nodded and returned to her tea.
The elderly cook was quite right. She
loved George Radford with her whole heart, but he just could not see that giving in and selling his land would mean they could buy a little farm somewhere else and get married.
The Earl was just as determined that he should sell. And the bad feeling between the two of them had made her position very difficult.
She shivered even though the kitchen was warm.
She glanced out of the window at the leaden sky. It would snow soon – having been born and bred in the valley, she recognised the signs.
Mary now wished that she had been brave enough to speak to the Earl this morning. She was desperate to try and explain that George was not being insolent or rude – just stubborn.
And how she wished that the Earl would meet some nice sensible lady while he was in London and find some happiness again.
Surely then he would not be so hard to approach with estate problems?
*
Jasmina woke early, washed and pulled on the long leather riding trousers she had brought with her from her home in America.
She packed some essential toiletries and a change of clothing into her small overnight case, which could be fastened on the back of her saddle. The rest of her luggage could be sent over the following day.
Jasmina was only too aware that her cousins at the Debbingford Parsonage were not very well off.
She was certain there would not be many occasions where she would need a ball dress!
She ran downstairs and called ‘good morning’ to the three maids who were already hard at work polishing the great wooden staircase.
They bobbed their heads to her as she passed and Jasmina wondered to herself if she would ever get used to the different approach the servants had in England.
Reid appeared as she hurried across the hall towards the door that led out into the stable yard.
“Will you be taking breakfast, Miss Winfield?”
“Oh, no. Please tell the cook not to bother on my account. I’m sure my cousins will give me a good lunch and I don’t like riding when I have just eaten.”
Reid appeared startled out of his usual impassive expression.
“Riding, Miss Winfield? I thought you would be taking the carriage – ”
“Oh, no,” Jasmina remarked airily. “I agreed with the Duchess yesterday that I would ride to Debbingford. I will need a horse and, as you know, the Duke has kindly bought one for me.”
Reid looked concerned.
“But the weather is about to change, Miss Winfield. It will snow heavily before the day is out.”
Jasmina tossed her head, her golden curls dancing as they tried to escape from the heavy leather cap she had pulled over them.
She had no doubt that any snow Yorkshire could produce would be but nothing compared with what she was used to at home.
And what was twenty miles? Just a short trip!
The stable block was already busy in the cold early morning light.
The lads were brushing down the yard and the horses had all been groomed and stood, their heads over the doors of their stalls, watching the yard with interest.
Jasmina approached the new horse with a sense of excitement. She knew his name was Lightning and he was a shiny black with a white star on his proud forehead.
She patted his velvety nose and admired the fine shape of his head.
The young stable lad looked startled when Jasmina asked him to saddle up Lightning.
“But, miss – ” he began. “We don’t know yet what he be like to ride. The groom who delivered him said he had could be mischievous like.”
Jasmina laughed, her beautiful face radiant with her enjoyment of life.
“Please don’t worry. I am quite certain I’ll be fine. I intend to ride him over to Debbingford this morning and it will give me a good chance to test out all his paces. The Duke told me that there was a fine leather saddle ready for the new horse, so please get him ready immediately.”
“But the snow, miss!”
“It hasn’t started to fall yet! I will be safely indoors in Debbingford by the time it does.”
*
The Earl of Somerton drove out of the castle, down a steep hill and out into the narrow winding lane that led to the main road.
He cast a quick look up at the sky.
He was certain that snow would fall tonight and a lot of it if he were not mistaken.
There was indeed a sullen leaden look to the clouds hanging so low above the distant moors that they seemed to be touching them.
The cold bleak day suited the Earl’s mood.
He had no desire to travel to London, but equally no desire to stay in Yorkshire for Christmas.
He felt as though he was spending his waking hours existing, finding things to do to keep busy.
He knew his friends wanted him to enter Society once more, but he could not force himself to do so.
All the glittering scene of dances and balls, Ascot, Henley, theatres, none of it seemed real to him any more.
It was as if on that fateful day two years ago, the day his sweet childish Millicent had died, he had slammed a door on the life he had once had and this dark existence was all that was left.
Savagely his suppressed feelings getting the better of him, he pressed down hard on the car’s accelerator and the powerful car roared forward.
Spinning the wheel he steered around a sharp bend too quickly and then yelled in horror.
A young girl on horseback was in the middle of the road. The animal, a huge black beast, was rearing and at the sight of the car it tried to bolt.
Even as the Earl stopped the car with a screech of brakes and leapt out, he knew that whoever the rider was, she was handling the animal magnificently.
But those were not the words that came tumbling from his mouth.
“You little idiot!” he shouted. “What the heck do you think you are doing? Do you want to get yourself killed?”
And as he strode towards her, his face was dark with anger.
CHAPTER TWO
Jasmina laughed loudly as she struggled to control Lightning as he skittered across the path, tossing his head and chomping on his bit.
She was enjoying her journey to her cousin’s home in Debbingford in the next valley. Lightning was certainly a marvellous ride, fast and strong.
The beautiful saddle of fine pale leather the Duke had purchased for her was extremely comfortable although strange in shape compared to the American saddles she was used to back home in Missouri.
Then the stupid stallion had spooked when a small rabbit ran across his path.
Just as she had been about to get Lightning under control, a great black and silver car came roaring round the bend and it took all her skill as a rider to stop her mount from bolting.
She was still struggling to quieten him when a man jumped out of the car, shouting at her, his face dark with anger and grabbed hold of the bridle.
“You little fool! Who on earth put you up on such a powerful animal? Get down at once!”
Jasmina gathered the reins tightly in her hands and tugged the bridle away from the dark-haired stranger who was glaring up at her in a passion of fury.
“Please stop shouting at me! You are only making the horse more anxious.”
“Why, you’re an American!”
Jasmina now circled Lightning, her voice calming him until he stood, quivering slightly, but under control – for the moment.
“Yes, sir, I am indeed from the United States where we would consider it a sin to drive so fast on a narrow road where people could well be out riding!”
The Earl frowned.
It was not often that he felt at a disadvantage, but this beautiful, slim, blue-eyed girl was staring down at him from astride the big stallion with an expression on her face that told him she thought he was the one in the wrong.
“Are you going to dismount, madam?”
Jasmina gazed down at her protagonist.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, the cut of his suit telling her that he was a weal
thy man even if the Rolls Royce had failed to do so.
But wealthy or not, his orders barked out in that rude fashion were most unwelcome.
“Certainly not, sir. I am in complete control and I would be grateful if you would stand out of my way, so I can continue my journey.”
The Earl’s frown darkened even more.
“Madam, there is no way I can possibly allow you to ride off on that animal. He has a malicious expression in his eyes. I have seen it before on rogue horses. You will not be safe.”
Jasmina tossed her head in sheer annoyance, bright golden curls escaping from beneath her riding cap.
“I do thank you for your concern, kind sir, but it is misplaced. I have been riding all my life. I know exactly what I am doing and your assistance is not required!”
The Earl felt his temper snap.
The picture flashed into his mind of another strong-willed young girl – one who had tried to jump a fence that was too big for her mount, even though he had begged her not to do so.
Millicent – his poor little wife.
He could still hear her laughing as she attempted to make her horse obey her commands and her cry as she was thrown – to lie lifeless on the ground.
Jasmina gasped as the man standing by her stirrup reached up and she saw he was about to pull her from the saddle.
Was he a madman?
She suddenly realised that dense woods surrounded the road. It was a lonely and isolated place and no one would see if he attacked her.
But Jasmina was no shrinking violet.
When other girls would have screamed for help, she gritted her teeth and without hesitating dug her heels into her mount’s sides and tightened the reins.
Lightning reared up and whinnied, his black eyes ringed with white and his flashing hooves just missing the man’s head.
Then Jasmina turned him, urging the powerful horse into a canter away from the man and his car. Lightning needed no encouragement.
Mud spattered from his hooves as he pounded away down the track into the shelter of the woods.
The Earl swore under his breath as he watched the girl on the big black horse vanish from sight.
He wondered if he should drive after her.
He was sure the horse was a rogue and not safe for anyone to ride. He could see that the American girl was a good equestrienne, but would that be enough to keep her from harm?
This Way to Heaven Page 2