REMEMBRANCE
Authors: Nicole Maddison
REMEMBRANCE
(Where will true devotion take you?)
By
Nicole Maddison
Copyright ©2012 by Nikki Williams
"All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher."
Acknowledgements
I would like to say a special thank you, to all my family and friends which have supported me over the years.
Thanks to my brother Doug, who perfectly captured my vision for the book cover and my daughter Maddie for agreeing to pose for the image.
Contents
Present day
Whitmore Manor, an estate located on the outskirts of the small town of Nedgely, graced the lands in the heart of the Shropshire countryside.
It was once a picture of elegance, with its large bay windows, beautiful ornate chimneys and white marble pillars that donned the stone steps leading to the heavy oak entrance door. Its lavish interior boasted a magnificent spiral staircase that led to three floors.
Sadly, the ravages of time had taken its toll on the once red bricks, which were now chipped and overgrown with ivy. Years of grime now covered the once sparkling windowpanes and the sweeping gardens were run rampant with weeds.
None of the townspeople ever ventured up the gravel driveway, believing it to be plagued with tormented souls. Some have even sworn to witnessing ghostly images of children playing in the surrounding woods, whilst other claimed that they had seen opaque figures standing at the windows.
Nobody really knew whether the stories passed around over the years held any truth, as the only people who could offer any evidence to contradict or confirm them were the previous occupants—a young woman and her child. However, they simply vanished one night, leading to even more speculation. That had been six years ago, and the house had stood vacant ever since. That is, until now.
Shropshire, England 1814
Nedgely Hall’s library was known as one of the finest in Shropshire, famous for its large collection of leather-bound books lining the shelves from floor to ceiling. That particular morning, the heavy drapes of dark gold that hung at the panelled windows were blocking out what little daylight there was so early in the day. The only light illuminating the dark gloom of the room was a small oil lamp on the dark wood desk.
Thomas Bradley sat back in the desk chair, hooking his long, toned legs on the desktop; the creek of leather from his riding boots the only sound in the room to pierce the silence. This had become his sanctuary, his escape from the rigorous duties that the estate demanded of him. Whenever he came here, he was reminded of his father, as the musky scent of age-old books brought back memories of their time spent here together when he was but a small boy.
This was one of the first places he had decided to visit upon his recent return from London. After the constant whirl and bustle of attending one social gathering after another, visiting one too many gentlemen’s clubs until the early hours of the morning and lavishing his personal attention on more than one willing female while he had been there, the peace and quiet that Nedgely offered was a tempting oasis in his god forsaken life.
A pile of correspondence sat on the silver tray, patiently waiting for his attention, yet only one had his full consideration. He swished the brandy in his glass; the amber coloured liquid threatening to spill over the rim as his eyes focused on the gilt-tipped card resting next to him on the desk. He took a long drink, draining its contents before placing the glass down gently. As if drawn to it by sheer magnetism, he read the words again for the hundredth time.
Sir John Austin has hereby invited you to attend the home coming ball of his niece, Miss Maria Austin on
Saturday 10
th
April
7:30 pm
Whitmore Manor
So, she was back, after almost six years. He was unsure of how he felt about it after all this time. How did one summarise in one sentence what they had felt over the last six years? Loss, guilt, confusion, anger? He swallowed hard and lifted the glass only to find it empty.
“Damn,” he muttered to himself as he stood to refill it.
In frustration, he raked his fingers through his blond hair. How long had he waited for her to return—one, two, three years? Still, how had six years passed by without him becoming completely insane? Six lousy years spent waiting for one slip of a girl to finish her education, aimed solely at achieving the accomplishments required for a young lady to uphold her social standing. Six drunk-induced, womanizing years had been wasted in hope to fulfil his one and only dream. What a fool he must be to have waited until now without so much as a buy or leave from her! Not even one Goddamn letter!
He slammed his glass down, and winced as the fine crystal threatened to shatter from the impact.
Yes, he could easily sum up how he felt—‘A fool’.
The sound of muffled voices, followed by approaching footsteps, halted his newly filled glass inches from his lips.
“My, my, Tom, why are you hiding in this gloomy room?”
The familiar face of his school friend made him smile as he entered the room.
“Dudley, how nice to see you!”
“Ah, my man, what the devil has you skulking in the dark?” Dudley’s young animated face held all the humour he had and was now trying very hard to hide.
“I’m not hiding,” Thomas replied quickly. Rather too quickly, as Dudley noticed.
Dudley cocked a brow, “No?”
“No.”
Thomas watched his friend’s easygoing nature, as he finally knocked back the contents of his glass.
“Bit early in the day to be drinking yourself into oblivion, isn’t it, my good man?”
Thomas scowled over the top of his empty glass, which caused his friend to laugh openly.
“Well, if you’re not hiding, you must have another reason to have me hot tailing it all the way from London. And please don’t say that you missed my honourable presence!”
Thomas picked up the decanter and poured two more drinks, handing one to Dudley who now sat slouched in the only other available chair. Concentrating on the dark liquid, he tried to decide the best course of action to take. Should he just come out and say what a complete idiot he felt or would it be better to just play the cool, sophisticated gentleman that he was suppose to be, even though he did not feel as one in this particular moment? Either way, Dudley would see straight through any excuse he thought of, for there wasn’t much that his good friend didn’t know about him, having just spent the last few weeks in his company, attending every possible function of the London scene. Thus, Thomas decided that there was really no reason to lie to his friend.
“Ah,” Dudley exclaimed noting the confused look on his face, “It has to be a woman.”
Thomas snapped his head up.
“Ah, I see that I am right… Don’t tell me that Miss Cartland is leading you a merry chase?”
“Good God, Dudley, how many times have I told you that it’s nothing like that between… Miss Cartland and me?”
“You may have told me Tom, but I doubt that the good Miss Cartland knows that. Rumour has it that she has set her cap for you and there is no denying that she is a very fine looking lady.”
“If you think that she is that fine, you are welcome to try and win her for yourself.”
Dudley raised his hands, “Sadly, the fortune that comes with her in marriage makes her more attractive than the words that come out of her mouth—she could put a cat to shame.” Dudley chuckled. “Not my type at all, my good man. She’s all yours.”
“As you know, I have no need of her money. So, luckily for me, I find the woman as attractive as a cactus.” Thomas retorted in disgust.