A Flight To Heaven by Barbara Cartland

outstretched and their feathers turning pink by the dawn light. They were flying towards the sea.
    There was a rustle of movement beside her and a footstep crunched on the gravel. Her heart skipped a beat.
    A dark shape was approaching.
    Mervyn Hunter had followed her!
    “They are flying home,” a deep voice spoke from close by her shoulder.
    It was the Count.
    Now she caught the intoxicating aura of lime and spices that had enveloped her as they danced and warmth flooded over her skin.
    “What – do you mean?” she asked.
    “They know spring is coming and the ice is melting on the Steppes.” His low voice was resonating through her whole body. “They are now returning to their home and to mine. Mother Russia.”
    “But, I thought they lived here.”
    Chiara recalled the family of swans she had seen at Ely.
    “Some do. But these great flocks are wild swans from the far North,” he told her. “When warmth comes back to the earth, they return there. As I must soon.”
    “Oh!” Chiara felt a sharp pain in her heart. “Do – you have to go?”
    He shifted beside her and she heard him take a long breath and waited for him to speak.
    “Lady Chiara!” Lord Darley’s voice now rang out through the twilight of the dawn. “Are you hiding out here somewhere? Your carriage awaits!”
    She jumped, startled by this sudden intrusion into the peace of the garden.
    “It is you who must go,” the Count sighed. “Your people are waiting.”
    “But I – ”
    She wanted to say that Lord Darley was nothing to do with her, that he was not one of her ‘people’. But then she remembered that he would soon be her stepfather.
    “Go!” the Count urged, his voice rising. “Or they will all be upon us. I wish to be alone.”
    “Yes, I’m sorry. But – ”
    Chiara struggled to find the words to tell him how much she had loved dancing with him.
    Now footsteps were approaching and the Count’s dark figure moved away, melting into the shrubbery.
    If only she, like the swans, could climb up into the air and fly East over the sea.
    If only she could escape.
    “There you are!” Lord Darley came panting up. “I told Mervyn to come and find you, but, alas, the old devil has fallen asleep. He really is a disgrace. He promised he would keep away from the whisky, tonight of all nights. Come along, Lady Chiara, your glorious Mama is already in the carriage.”
    The Count had completely disappeared, leaving just a trace of his clean spicy scent in the damp morning air.
    Chiara, her head heavy and her heart twisting with pain, followed Lord Darley to the front of the house, where the carriage stood, ready to take her back to Rensham Hall.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    “Mama, what will happen after your wedding? Will you go to live with Lord Darley?”
    Chiara hoped that the anxiety she felt did not show in her voice, as she took tea with her mother in the drawing room on the afternoon after the ball.
    She simply could not imagine what it would be like to have Lord Darley sitting at table in her Papa’s place every day for the rest of her life.
    But then what would she do, if Mama left Rensham Hall? Surely she could not stay behind all on her own?
    Lady Fairfax was shaking her head.
    “Oh no, darling. Poor Tom – he does not get on at all with his elder brother, Henry, who owns the estate. We could not possibly go there. We shall stay here, of course!”
    Chiara felt glad for a moment and then her body turned hot and cold as she remembered Mervyn Hunter – for surely he would become a regular visitor at Rensham Hall once Lord Darley was installed here permanently.
    Her feet still smarted from where he had trodden on them last night and her stomach turned over at the memory of his whisky-scented breath, so hot on her face.
    Chiara looked down at her teacup, trying to hide the tears of despair that filled her eyes.
    “Oh, my darling!” Lady Fairfax got up and came to sit beside her. “You must not feel sad. Tom is the kindest of men and it is