This Way to Heaven by Barbara Cartland Page A

up the appearances of a great house.
    She did not envy Mary’s job here.
    It must be so difficult to motivate the staff when the Master of the house and estate obviously did not care.
    To her amazement Jasmina found a vast ballroom, its mirrors covered in white sheets, its once shining parquet floor dull and unpolished.
    On the third storey she discovered what must once have been the nurseries and the schoolroom.
    The bars on the windows and the quaint little pictures on the walls of dogs, horses and toy soldiers left her in no doubt of its original purpose.
    She found herself smiling – this was where the Earl had spent his childhood.
    There were even small pencil marks on the side of the door to show where a little boy had measured his height every year.
    He had sat at one of the desks with inky fingers and untidy hair looking out over the lake towards the moors, probably longing to be outside riding his pony or running through the woods, climbing trees, swimming in the lake and having adventures.
    Surely never in his wildest dreams would the Earl have imagined that when the castle became his, he would order it to be closed up and neglected in this fashion?
    The whole place just seemed to be sleeping, locked away from the real world.
    â€˜It’s like a modern-day Sleeping Beauty , except his Lordship is no beauty! But – ’ and she now sighed deeply ‘ – there is just no denying the fact that he is an extremely handsome man!’
    She could see so clearly in her mind’s eye the dark brown eyes that could command with a glance, the way he impatiently pushed back the black hair that flopped across his forehead when he least expected it.
    Jasmina was quite sure that he was a man of great strength of character.
    A leader of men.
    There was far too much natural confidence in his bearing for him to be anything else.
    So the reason for his withdrawal from Society must have been great indeed.
    â€˜He must have loved his young wife to the point of distraction,’ mused Jasmina, running her finger along the dusty mantelpiece. ‘It seems to me that he has been driven almost mad by her death.’
    She was not certain as to why this revelation made her feel so unhappy, but it did.
    She returned listlessly to her bedroom, restless and unable to settle down to anything. She did not want to read or even play the piano.
    In her luggage there was a tapestry bag containing the embroidery she had been working on, but having taken it out she threw it to one side after a few stitches.
    She needed exercise, but it was really far too cold to just walk in the snowy grounds.
    â€˜Goodness, Jasmina Winfield, you are turning into a terrified little woman,’ she scolded herself. ‘You are a free American with a mind of her own!
    â€˜You know very well that what you want to do is skate on the lake. It isn’t going to do any harm to anyone if you spend just five minutes getting some exercise. You know you will be very careful and not come to any harm. I expect the Earl is shut inside his gloomy study being sad, but there is no reason for you to follow his mood!’
    With these brisk words she found her skates in the bottom of her trunk and hurried back downstairs.
    With mounting excitement and trepidation, Jasmina made her way from the castle terrace, down a short flight of steep icy steps, through a border of old willow trees and down to the lake.
    It stretched out straight in front of her glimmering grey under the heavy sky. Smooth sheets of ice extended in every direction clear across to the far side.
    Jasmina brushed the snow off a wooden bench, sat down and changed her sturdy walking shoes for her heavy skating boots.
    The brown leather was stiff and unyielding under her cold fingers, but eventually she managed to lace up the skates that had last touched ice so many thousands of miles away.
    She shivered as the wind gusted across the lake and she knew that only a few minutes of skating