The room was situated in one of the castle’s turrets and so was completely round. Tall tapestries decorated the grey stone walls and bright Turkish rugs covered the floor in a myriad of blue, ruby and emerald colours.
A cheerful fire was burning in the hearth with the logs crackling, keeping away the chill.
Heavy red velvet curtains were drawn across the deep windows, shutting out the snowy night scene.
A small round table had been laid sparkling with white china rimmed with gold, crystal glasses, solid silver cutlery and in the centre a deep bowl of white lilies and sprigs of holly, the berries bright red against the flowers’ white petals.
“Someone has gone to a great deal of trouble, this looks beautiful” smiled Jasmina, as a footman moved her chair back.
The Earl nodded.
“I fear I am a sad disappointment to my staff. I do not entertain. This is the first chance they have had for a long while to show me their varied talents.”
Jasmina slowly sipped the delicious consommé that had just been served to her.
“Are you averse to entertaining as such, or is it just the lack of neighbours that prevents you?”
“I must admit that there are only a few people that I admire living locally. I do not hunt and only shoot for the castle’s larder. So you see, Jasmina, in the eyes of Society I am an abject failure.”
Jasmina was silent as a superb dish of Dover sole in champagne sauce was served.
When the footman had left the room, she glanced across the table at the Earl’s face.
He was frowning as he pushed the fish around on his plate.
She wondered if he was thinking once again about Millicent, the girl who had stopped his life in its tracks.
Well, she decided if she wanted to know, there was one sure way of finding out!
“Did you entertain much when your wife was alive, Richard?”
The Earl’s fork clattered noisily onto his plate and he glanced up at her, his eyes dark.
Unbidden memories came flooding back.
He recalled the crowds of youngsters who had often stayed at the castle for weeks at a time. Rich, idle, little more than children themselves with too much time on their hands and only interested in enjoying themselves.
“Millicent boasted many friends. People very like herself – all young, eager for excitement and adventure, unwilling to listen to advice.”
Jasmina took a sip of a clear golden wine.
“You very much sound as if you disapproved of her behaviour?”
The candles flickered in a draught from the door as the footman came in to clear the course.
The Earl watched moodily as a confection of apples and cream was placed in front of them.
He could not believe how blue and direct Jasmina’s gaze was.
She appeared to be challenging him and there was nothing retiring about her presence at his table. The tilt of her pretty chin, even the way she sat at table, upright and determined, was so different from the languid young ladies whom he had met recently.
“She was my wife and – ” his voice roughened very slightly, “ – so young to be a Countess. I am sure that, had she lived, she would have taken on the various duties and responsibilities of the first Lady of Somerton. But – ” and pain tore through him, “ – she did not live and that was my fault!”
Jasmina gasped and instinctively reached out across the table to touch his hand.
His fingers twined with hers and she felt a quiver of emotion run through her body.
“You blame yourself for her death, Richard?”
The Earl looked at her, his eyes shadowed by his dark thoughts.
“Millicent loved riding above everything else and she loved to hunt. While I was staying away in London, she purchased a new horse from a dealer I did not trust. I begged her to think again, but she would not.”
There was a little silence. Jasmina was tempted to speak, but something held her back. She had the feeling that if he did not tell her now, he never would.
At last the Earl continued,
“The horse arrived, but it was scarcely broken in – a chestnut, a wild creature, although good-looking in a flashy way. Probably with calm patient schooling it would have become a fine ride. But Millicent was not a patient type of girl.
“She had invited some of her young friends to stay at the castle for a weekend party.”
He passed his hand over his eyes, as if wishing to wipe away the memory.
“At breakfast that morning she announced that she would show everyone what her new horse could do over the fences. I begged her, I pleaded and finally I ordered her not to be so stupid and rash.”
Jasmina frowned.
“She did not listen?”
He laughed and it was an unhappy cold sound.
“Indeed she did not. She told me that I was an old-fashioned fuddy-duddy if I thought she was the type of old-fashioned wife who was going to obey her husband’s every command.
“She insisted she was an extremely good rider and she would show me and everyone there just how silly I was to try and stop her. Then –”
“Hush! You need say no more!” Jasmina broke in swiftly. “But Richard, as dreadful and tragic as her death was, in no way was it your fault! She was a young girl, probably spoilt by you and your father, whom I have heard doted on her when she became his ward. She went her own way and it led to her untimely death. But you are not to blame.”
The Earl looked across the flickering candles into her blue eyes.
“I should have been more forceful,” he responded quietly.
Jasmina sighed.
“Richard, unless you had locked Millicent in her turret room, I cannot see that you could have stopped her!
“Women are different these days. We make decisions for ourselves and sometimes they are the wrong ones, but the fact that we make them ourselves is still important.”
He stared at the fearless expression on her face.
Yes, this young American had a strong independent streak running through her. Why could she not see that in this modern world it could lead her into great danger?
Although he believed Jasmina when she told him she had not intended to go out onto the ice this afternoon, she had still done so when Florence fell over.
And she could easily have drowned in the freezing waters of the lake.
“So you would have done the same thing? Gone against all my wishes?” he enquired slowly.
Jasmina pushed her plate away.
“Well, I would like to think that I would not have been deceived by the bogus horse-trader in the first place! But at your poor wife’s young age with no real knowledge of the outside world and taking everyone at face value, then maybe I would.”
“And obeying your husband? Would that not be a rule you lived by?”
Jasmina reached out her hand and began to toy with the lilies and holly leaves of the table decoration.
“Love, honour and obey, is that not what every wife promises at the altar?” she replied thoughtfully. “I hope I will do everything in my power to keep that vow when I take it.
“I believe I would never marry anyone I could not trust implicitly, but I cannot obey a man whose commands are wrong. God gave us all common sense and everyone even women have to use it!”
The Earl pushed back his chair and stood up.
But the force of his movement slid the contents of the table to one side and Jasmina grunted with pain as a holly leaf cut into her finger.
“You are hurt!”
“No, it is nothing.”
“Let me see?”
He smiled suddenly.
“And that is a request, not an order!”
She raised her hand and he took it gently, bending his dark head to examine the pearl of red that was welling up from where the thorn had pierced her skin.
Taking a handkerchief from his pocket he dabbed the blood away.
“I think you will live!”
Then a look of pai
n 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 b
reakfast 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?
This Way to Heaven Page 9