They Touched Heaven

by Barbara Cartland

  “Temia!” he called out, as he caught sight of her. “I feared you had disappeared.”

  “No, I have been occupied with family business,” she answered. “What did you want?”

  “Say you will dine with me this evening.”

  He looked at her with expectant and dark eyes. She wanted so much to accept, but felt that it was impossible, given the circumstances.

  “I am afraid that I am not feeling well and intend to leave the theatre as soon as I can this evening,” she replied, not looking at him. She knew that if she looked into his eyes, then all would be lost. She would be powerless to resist him.

  The Earl hung his head and nodded slowly.

  “And I cannot persuade you otherwise?”

  “Not tonight, I am sorry,” she answered, feeling a strange aching sensation in her breast. How it hurt her to refuse him!

  The performance was highly successful. Les Jolies Mademoiselles caused a sensation with their new routines and even Temia had to admit that Lily sang like a bird. But, even as the introduction to the last number was played, Temia was running backstage to collect her things.

  She had seen Sir Thomas appear in a box just as the overture began and knew that he would encounter the Earl later at the stage door.

  ‘It grieves me to leave without seeing him,’ she thought as she left, ‘but it’s the only way!’

  She almost did not care that Sir Thomas might be eager to see her after his absence, she simply did not want a confrontation between the two of them – with herself in the middle of it.

  She soon made her way back to her new lodgings and undressed, put on her nightdress and waited for Sophia to return. She wondered what had happened outside the stage door after the show. Would the Earl have come, in spite of her refusal to dine with him? And if he had, what words passed between him and his friend, Sir Thomas?

  A long hour passed and eventually, Temia heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside.

  Sophia opened the door and shook off her cloak.

  “Heavens, it’s raining so hard out there!” she cried, “you were wise to leave when you did, Temia.”

  “The Earl – did he wait at the stage door for me?”

  “And Sir Thomas. You should have seen them! I swear if either of them had had a pistol, they would have shot each other!”

  “They were arguing?”

  “Like I’ve never heard gentlemen in public before! The Earl threatened to knock the blazes out of Sir Thomas and it was Hobson who stood between them and calmed them down or else blood would have been drawn.”

  “Was it because of me?”

  “Well, first of all, the Earl rolled up, bold as you like and demanded to see you and you had left. Then along comes Sir Thomas, who accused him of ‘sly behaviour’. The Earl flew into a towering rage and said all kinds of wicked things. And then, Sir Thomas lashed out at him!”

  “He struck him?”

  “Right on the chin! It was fortunate you weren’t there, Temia. I hate to think what might have happened had you been present.”

  Temia bowed her head and tried to hide her tears. Although she had not accepted Sir Thomas’s proposal, it rather assumed some kind of propriety over her. And in her heart, she knew that she loved the Earl.

  “What will you do?” asked Sophia, as she climbed into bed. “I have always I thought it would be nice to have two men in love with me, but after seeing the ugly scenes this evening, I don’t think I would care for it one tiny bit.”

  “The Earl has not told me that he is in love with me,” murmured Temia, wiping her eyes discreetly.

  “But he is, as plain as day! But that temper of his – it’s terrible!”

  “He’s still overwrought by the death of his father.”

  “He was like a man possessed! Temia, if he would strike his best friend, perhaps he would strike a lady.”

  “He would never do such a thing! He’s troubled, that’s all. He is not a violent man.”

  “How can you say so when you barely know him?”

  “I know it in my heart, Sophia. I cannot explain it any better. Now, it’s late and we must sleep.” Temia blew out her candle and settled down under the thin quilt. She could hear Sophia muttering her prayers under her breath.

  Temia fell asleep, almost in spite of herself and she was soon dreaming of walking across green fields with the Earl and his arm was round her waist.

  *

  It was with relief that Temia noted that neither of them made an appearance at the theatre over the next few evenings. Although in her heart she yearned to see the Earl again, she contented herself with working as hard as she could, much to the approval of Leo Baker.

  “A rise, a rise! That’s what’s needed!” he boomed, as he admired her latest piece of scenery.

  “A rise?” enquired Temia, a little perplexed.

  “In salary, of course! I am certain that it’s not only the beautiful and talented Les Jolies Mademoiselles that are currently drawing the crowds. Did you know we are sold out for an entire week – in advance?”

  “No, I did not.” Temia was thrilled that she was held in such high esteem.

  Sophia came rushing over to Temia almost as soon as Leo Baker had left her side.

  “I never asked you. How was your mother?”

  “I have persuaded her to come to Hanwell with me to see if Lady Alphonse exists.”

  “Did you mention me to her?”

  “Yes, I did. Mama took it in her stride and did not make much comment.”

  After the show she lingered for a while, hoping that the Earl might be waiting outside for her, but as she went outside onto the wet and empty street, she realised with a sinking heart that he was not coming.

  ‘Perhaps it’s for the best,’ she told herself, as she walked quickly back to the lodgings. ‘But, oh, how I wish I was not so disappointed.’

  *

  Neither came for the next few evenings and Temia carried on as usual, but felt that her spirits were somewhat in decline. Even Leo Baker firming up his offer of a rise did nothing to lift her.

  Then, one afternoon, a letter arrived at the theatre. Temia recognised at once her mother’s handwriting and opened the letter quickly. ‘It must be very important if she has gone to the trouble of having it delivered by hand,’ she thought, as she unfolded it.

  “Dearest Temia, Mr. Burleigh has now been persuaded of the need for us to pay a visit the asylum in Hanwell and has agreed to accompany us this afternoon.

  I am sorry it is such short notice and hope you can be relieved of your duties. Please be ready at two o’clock sharp and I will collect you in a carriage, Your own loving Mama.”

  “You are as white as a ghost, is something wrong?”

  Sophia came up and put her hand on her shoulder.

  “No, there is nothing wrong. Mama is taking me with the family Solicitor to Hanwell this afternoon.”

  “Oh, Lord!” cried Sophia, and then she covered her mouth, clearly embarrassed at sounding so common.

  “I will go to Mr. Baker and ask his permission to return to Mrs. Timms’s at once. I cannot go to the asylum wearing such shabby clothing.”

  “Good luck,” whispered Sophia. Fifteen minutes later, Temia was walking back to her lodgings. She was frightened at what they might discover and was also conscious of not wasting Mr. Burleigh’s time. She wondered how her mother had persuaded the usually stern and forbidding Solicitor to accompany them. And now, she was placing her trust in him, as well as her reputation. He surely would not take well to being subjected to her ‘flight of female fancy’ and, should Lady Alphonse not be in Hanwell or even exist, Temia did not like to consider how he might view her.

  At two o’clock sharp she heard a carriage draw up and come to a halt outside the door of her lodgings.

  Closing the front door behind her, Temia could see her Mama looking eagerly out of the window for her.

  Next to her she could see the tall figure of Mr. Burleigh. Temia remembered well
the full grey whiskers that sprouted like unruly rosemary bushes from either side of his face.

  Climbing into the carriage, she sat opposite them. Mr. Burleigh raised his hat and grunted a greeting.

  “Temia, you will remember Mr. Burleigh?” said her Mama, “and he has something exciting to tell you.”

  Mr. Burleigh pursed his lips and began,

  “Yes, Miss Brandon. You will be interested to hear that fate has conspired to throw a rather curious titbit in my direction. In fact, it is more than a titbit. Miss Brandon – I believe I have discovered something about Lord Alphonse that could put him in prison for a very long time!”

  Temia gasped.

  “You – believe – me?” she stuttered, an incredulous look spreading over her face.

  “I confess that, at first, I may well have put it down to the overheated imaginings of the female brain had I not had an intriguing piece of information come my way this very morning. But first, we must uncover our evidence.”

  Mr. Burleigh hammered with his cane on the roof of the carriage and it lurched forward.

  “Driver! To Hanwell and with all haste! Now,” he said, settling down in his seat, “this morning I had a rather interesting visitor – ”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mr. Burleigh waited until they reached the outskirts of Hanwell before he spoke,

  “This morning, the Duke of Weybridge came to see me and I confess that, until his visit, I was a little sceptical of your dear mother’s motives in pursuing this man.”

  “But surely she explained that Lord Alphonse was blackmailing us?” asked Temia nervously.

  “She did but, in my profession, until there is cast iron evidence, one tends to keep one’s counsel. However, I digress. His Grace had come to ask advice on a personal matter. It now transpires that a certain Lord Alphonse is blackmailing his youngest sister. Of course, when I heard the name, it aroused my curiosity.”

  “What did he say?” asked Temia. “Do tell us!”

  “My dear, it would seem that Lord Alphonse has made provision for you not reappearing and so made his approaches to Lady Hannah! He claimed to have evidence that the Duke had fathered a child by a dancer – which is quite untrue – and that he would reveal it to all and sundry, should she not comply.”

  “So, the Duke came straight to you?”

  “The instant this character began to make threats. His Grace is not a man to be trifled with and would do anything to protect his good name.”

  “Did you mention that there was another instance of him attempting blackmail?”

  “I did, and His Grace is very anxious to precipitate matters. I did not reveal, of course, that there was some evidence to suggest that Lord Alphonse’s wife is still alive. I thought it best to wait until we have seen for ourselves.”

  Temia sat back and felt a glimmer of hope. If the Duke was willing to prosecute, then, even if there was no Lady Alphonse, the mere fact that he was blackmailing others would be enough to secure an arrest.

  Hanwell was a large but plain building surrounded by simple landscaping. Had Temia not known what it was, it could have been a rather austere country house.

  The carriage came to a halt at the front entrance and they alighted. “Mr. Warren is expecting us,” said Mr. Burleigh to a man at the door, as he helped Lady Brandon up the steps.

  Temia shuddered as they entered the tall hallway. A strong smell of carbolic soap rose into her nostrils along with another smell she could not identify.

  As they arrived, a woman in a long black dress and white cap came towards them. Temia noticed a bunch of keys hanging from her belt. Her face was lined and her mouth turned downwards and she looked as if she did not know what it was to smile.

  “Are you Lady Brandon’s party?” she demanded without a hint of welcome.

  “Yes, we are”

  “Come with me. Mr. Warren is expecting you.”

  Temia clung to her Mama’s arm as they walked along the echoing corridors with high ceilings. There were bars on the windows and the floors were highly polished.

  From distant rooms came the sounds of moaning – Temia thought it sounded like a cow lowing rather than a human being. She looked on in horror as they passed by an old woman who mimed knitting, even though she had neither needles nor wool in her hands. They went up some stairs and then through a half-glazed door.

  “Please wait here,” they were instructed. After a few moments, a door on the other side of the room opened and a small man with a hooked nose and thin hair plastered to his head came forward.

  “Lady Brandon, I am Mr. Warren, the Governor – please come into my Office.”

  Temia rose from her chair and followed her mother and Mr. Burleigh. She felt terribly nervous and her heart beat rapidly underneath her cloak.

  Mr. Warren indicated that they should sit on the chairs in front of his desk and they did so.

  “What can I do for you, Lady Brandon?” asked Mr. Warren.

  Temia thought that his eyes were rather cold. They were the kind of dirty grey that does not betray emotion.

  “I believe that you have a certain woman here – her name is Lady Alphonse. For good reasons, it is imperative that I seek confirmation of her existence.”

  “Lady Alphonse? My Lady, as you will no doubt be aware, Hanwell is not an asylum for gentlefolk, but for persons of lesser means. Our inmates don’t have a penny to their names, which is why they are here.”

  Temia had been expecting such an argument and had prepared herself for such an obstruction.

  “Mr. Warren, I would not have come here had it not been of the utmost importance. I cannot impress upon you sufficiently how vital this is. Mr. Burleigh is our family Solicitor and he is to prepare an affidavit stating that Lady Alphonse is still living. Why we need this, I am not at liberty to divulge, but I beg you – if the lady is here, you must tell us!”

  He looked as if he felt rather uncomfortable being scrutinised by three pairs of eyes. He wriggled a little in his seat.

  “We have an Amelia Alphonse in residence. She was brought in by a man claiming to be her relative. I have the paperwork here somewhere, if I can locate it.”

  Walking over to a bookcase filled with box files, he took one down and opened it. The tension in the room grew as he leafed rapidly through its contents.

  After a few moments, he appeared to find what he was looking for and pulled it out of the box.

  “Amelia Alphonse was brought to us on the 26th of May 1849. I was not at Hanwell in those days, but my predecessor, Mr. Ellis, has written some notes here if you would care to view them.”

  He handed the sheaf of papers to Mr. Burleigh, who scrutinised them in silence.

  “Is there a nurse or someone who would have been here at the time of the admission of Lady Alphonse?”

  “Mrs. O’Brien, who brought you to my Office. She has been at Hanwell for twenty years. Would you like me to summon her?”

  “If you would, Mr. Warren. I would be grateful.”

  Mr. Warren picked up a bell on his desk and rang it. Within seconds, a young woman appeared.

  “Could you ask Mrs. O’Brien to come to my Office at once, please?”

  Five minutes later, Mrs. O’Brien appeared.

  “Mrs. O’Brien. Mr. Burleigh here now wishes to ask you about Amelia Alphonse – you must answer him to the best of your ability. It is very important that you try and remember anything he asks of you.”

  Mrs. O’Brien, looking surly, nodded.

  “Mrs. O’Brien,” Mr. Burleigh began, “were you here on the day Mrs. Alphonse was admitted to Hanwell.”

  “Yes, sir, I was.”

  “And she was brought in by – ?”

  “A man who said ’e was ’er cousin, sir. I didn’t believe ’im for a moment. I could tell ’e was ’er ’usband straight away.”

  “And how, may I ask, could you do this?”

  “When you’ve been in this job as long as I ’ave, sir, you gets to recognise the signs. The ’usba
nds most often pretend to be someone else, a distant relative, a friend. It’s the shame, you see, sir.”

  “And was this gentleman a wealthy man?”

  “I thought ’e appeared so, sir. But ’e said ’e was of slender means. Said Mrs. Alphonse ’ad no ’usband and ’ad taken to wanderin’ the streets in ’er nightclothes.”

  “And he signed the committal forms?”

  “Yes, sir. In front of me very own eyes.”

  “Mr. Warren, might I see these papers?”

  Mr. Warren made a grunting noise that indicated that he did so unwillingly, as he handed over the papers.

  “Lady Brandon, would you care to take a look at this signature – ‘Ignatius Alphonse’.”

  Lady Brandon’s hand shook as she received it.

  “Yes, that is his signature,” she exclaimed. “Would you have in your possession any document with Lord Alphonse’s signature on it?”

  “I do, it’s a receipt for the delivery of two horses – which he has yet to pay for.”

  She took a folded piece of paper from her bag. Mr. Burleigh opened it and stared at the signature on the bottom.

  “One and the same,” he declared with satisfaction in his voice. “Now, all that remains is to see the lady in question. Mr. Warren, would that be possible?”

  “Mrs. O’Brien will take you to her cell. We have to keep her confined for the safety of the other inmates, but I am afraid that you will not be able to see her, Mr. Burleigh. It’s a women-only ward and you are not a relative. Some of the women are not presentable, you understand.”

  “Quite,” answered Mr. Burleigh. “Lady Brandon, will you and your daughter go?”

  “Will you go, Temia?” she asked. “I don’t believe my nerves would permit me to see the poor wretch.”

  “Of course, Mama.” Mrs. O’Brien stood with an impatient look on her face. She tapped the keys on her belt and Temia rose from her chair immediately.

  “Come with me, Miss Brandon.” Mrs. O’Brien led Temia out of the Office and down some more corridors. The low moaning that she had heard earlier now sounded nearer.