REMEMBRANCE (10 page)

“Shush Tom, or they will hear us.”

“Don’t be silly, they are all going about their duties,” he laughed quietly. “Just think of the look on their faces when we spring this trick on them.”

“Do you think that we should be so wicked? What will Uncle say if he was to spy us?”

“Shush now. By the time it is done, you and I will be away from here.”

The girl giggled mischievously.

Maria didn’t know what to do. Still, she couldn’t deny the building excitement she felt. Was it the ghost she had seen earlier that was now talking of such pranks? Maybe somebody had entered the house and was now rifling through Gran’s belongings? What should she do? She could handle being faced with her ghost, but to disturb a burglar… She must be completely mad; she could be murdered in her own home! Given the way things were going with her gran, her body wouldn’t be found for days, leaving the culprit to escape without a trace. What should she do? She placed her hand on the handle and, taking a deep breath, pulled it down.

“Shush, Tom, they have heard us—come quickly.”

The door swung open and Maria hovered nervously just outside its thick wooden frame. She looked around, surprised to find the room empty. She didn’t know if her heart was pounding from disappointment or relief that she’d found no one there.

Maybe she had just imagined her ghost the other day and simply needed to invent something that would take away the empty feeling in her chest? Had this been what her gran meant when she said that her mother had believed the house was a bad influence on her? Had she experienced these same things way back then?

Gingerly, she entered further into the room. It felt quite cool, but she knew it was an old house and didn’t contain any of the modern day heating systems. Placing herself on the small wooden stool, she rested her head against the cool sides of the harp. She hated been cooped up inside, but just as she had decided to take that walk, the previously white clouds had turned a grey misty colour and the first drops of rain started falling upon the dry crusted soil. She watched, as the rain grew stronger. It fell against the panes of glass, quietly lulling her.

She ran her fingers over the harp strings and the sound echoed in the room. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember the old tunes her mother had taught her as a child. Her awkward attempts caused her to giggle, but she was determined not to be beaten. She kept trying and, finally, after playing many wrong notes, the sound of an enchanting melody filled the room. Still with her eyes closed, she envisaged the images of her mother and Gran sitting on the old leather sofa, listening, just to her playing, as they had done back then.

* * * * *

Thomas stood half in the doorway watching and listening as she played her magical melody; the entire room came alive with the sound of its notes drifting in the air. He was enchanted by the image before him. Maria’s eyes were closed and her long lashes rested upon her cheeks. Her neck was smooth as she tilted her head to rest upon the harp’s golden frame, and her hair was an abundance of loose golden curls that fell down against her back. How he ached at the sight of her! He stayed there, silently watching the way her slim fingers caressed the instrument’s strings. As his gaze shifted to her face, he was mesmerized by the way her moist lips parted slightly in a gentle smile.

He wondered if she had any idea of the raw emotions that swamped him every time he looked or even thought about her, consuming his mind day and night. She was like the breath in his lungs—fresh and clear, filling his body with its life-giving fluid. She made him feel nervous, but excited at the same time whenever he was in her presence. He was sure that he had seen something in her eyes, a reflection that matched his inner turmoil, but she had never uttered a word. Oh how he wanted to reach out and touch the creamy softness of her neck, as she rested there, to feel the lush wetness of her parted lips against his. There was a hunger within him that he could not quell. Sadly, all too soon, the pretty melody came to an end and, the young woman slowly opened her eyes.

“Tom?” she called out, surprised to see him standing there.

He shook his thoughts from his head, as he moved further into the room and bowed.

“Miss Austin.”

“Tom, please—there is no need for such formalities when we are alone.”

His smile lit up his eyes, enhancing their blueness, as he glanced behind the door, as if checking that they were truly alone.

“Ahh, then if I may… call you… M?”

“Of course you may call me M, silly,” she giggled.

He stood a little longer still, dressed in a dark green coat, a matching embroidered waistcoat that spanned across his broad chest and well cut black trousers. She appreciated his stance and the way the material clung to his strong legs. Eventually, she realised that she was admiring him so openly under his watchful gaze and said silkily, “Pray Tom, please be seated.”

She raised herself from the stool and they came to sit together upon the green leather sofa.

“Shall I call for tea?” she asked politely.

He turned slightly, so that he could sit angled in her direction, his knee lightly touching the thin material of her skirt. He felt the warmth of her body radiate to his skin, sending his mind racing.

“M, I am charged… that is… I come with an invitation,” he stuttered, her closeness was driving him mad and he knew that he had to control the urge to reach out and touch her.

“An invitation?” she repeated.

He held a nervous smile and continued, “Yes, an invitation from Lady Bradley.”

“Lady Bradley?”

“Yes—Lady Bradley… my mother.”

Maria sat, fidgeting with her fingers, as she waited for him to finish, her green eyes mesmerized by the movement of his soft lips.

“Your mother,” she encouraged.

“She has charged me with an invitation,” he repeated, “that is, if it is not too much of an inconvenience, she has requested your company at dinner the day after tomorrow.”

“Dinner?”

“She has heard of your return and is keen to regain your acquaintance.”

M stood and took a few steps away from him before turning back; he automatically stood when she did.

He looked a little nervous again, as he waited for her reply.

“Please tell Lady Bradley that I would be delighted to join her for dinner.”

Upon hearing her accept the offer, relief swept over his face; he had been worried that she would have a prior engagement and that he would have to go back and inform his mother of her refusal. His mother, as kind as she was, like many others, had waited patiently for her son’s childhood companion to return. Maria had been like the daughter she never had and was practically part of the family when she was younger. His mother would clearly not have been pleased if he had returned with Maria’s apologies. He too would have been disappointed if she had refused, for he so dearly wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. Still, he had been fully aware that there were many young men that had been present at the ball, who may have offered invitations to her. He clamped down on the tight feeling in his chest as he remembered Mr Grainger’s recent visit, and the thought of him spending time in her company at dinner last night, when he could not.

Maria smiled sweetly at him and her hand came out to touch his fingers as they hung at his side.

“It will be good to see your mother again,” her voice was soft and warming.

It broke him from his thoughts as he had become fully aware of how his body reacted to that slight touch; he felt the warmth seep into his hand. At that moment, he wanted to tell her everything, to speak of his feelings for her, to declare his undying love. Gently, he closed his fingers over her slim hand and opened his mouth to speak.

The door suddenly burst open and Sir John came bustling into the room.

“Ah, there you are, my child! We have been in a fine sweat. Oh Thomas, I had no idea that you were here,” he said, flustered. Turning back to Maria, he continued. “Mrs Clegg insists that it will surely rain on Sunday and our picnic should be postponed. I think that she is wrong and that she has made up her mind that it is all too much trouble to drag the servants with a heavy load up to Upper Bank.” His breathing was erratic and his face bright purple in colour.

“Please Uncle, calm yourself and, pray, be seated.” She guided his large form to the seat she had just vacated. “If it rains, there will be other fine days on which we could have our picnic. If I may say, Mrs Clegg would be right; we cannot expect the servants to carry heavy burdens up to Upper Bank, especially if the weather is hot.”

Thomas looked on as she informed Sir John of her alternative plan; he was grateful for the diversion it had caused, giving him time to recover and calm the surge of emotions she had stirred in him.

“We do not need a large party for a picnic; let us turn it into…” She stopped to think, before adding, “let us turn it into a game.”

“A game?” Sir John said confused.

“Yes, everyone that comes must bring a basket filled with all their favourite foods and we shall all stroll to Upper Bank. It would be a lovely walk and I am sure the exercise would be a most welcoming one. We can lay out a large blanket and everything from the baskets can be placed on it.”

Sir John looked on opened-mouthed. “We all share the picnic?”

Her confidence wavered a little. “There will be no need for us to take tables and chairs. They are a formality that we do not require on a picnic. As we will not carry much, we will not even need the servants. So, once we have departed, they…,” she stopped suddenly, unsure if she should continue explaining her unusual plan. “Maybe, with your consent, Sir, they could have the afternoon off?”

Sir John just sat there; she could see his mind mulling over her extraordinary idea.

Thomas had to admit that he was surprised by Maria’s suggestion. But then, was she not full of surprises recently? He had to admire her; there was an unspoken quality to her nature—unselfish, thoughtful. She had given no thought to herself and her need to carry a heavy load. All she cared were the servants and the burden of delivering the picnic to the guests. Although he found her idea a fine alternative, he believed that it might not go down too well with her Uncle, or the others in the party, for that matter. He knew only too well what the local gentry were like. Thus, he was rather surprised when Sir John jumped to his short stubby legs shouting, “Splendid, my dear, splendid! I shall inform Joseph of the change of plan and send out the invites this very afternoon… Splendid!” With that, he turned to leave the room. “Oh Thomas, “he said suddenly, “If I may have a word with you before you leave?”

“Of course, Sir John.” Thomas answered, a little confused.

When her uncle had left the room, Maria sank into the chair; she had been worried that he might not agree to her suggestion, as it may not be a proper way for the members of high society to socialize. She so very much wanted to go, as it meant that she could spend time with Tom and she knew deep in her heart that it was what she wanted to do more than anything else.

“M, I shall have my carriage sent for you? Shall we say 7 o’clock the day after tomorrow?” Thomas made his presence known, interrupting her thoughts.

“Pray, forgive me Tom, my mind was elsewhere for a moment. Yes, I shall be ready, thank you.”

“Then if you will excuse me, my mother has another errand that she would like me to run for her,” he said reluctantly.

Maria was disappointed at the fact that he had to leave so soon, as she was sure that he had wanted to speak with her before her uncle had come upon them. She so very much wanted him to stay, so that he may have the chance to finish what it was he wanted to say. Instead, she heard herself replying politely, “Oh, of course, Tom.”

“Until then,” he said with a bow and then he was gone.

* * * * *

As Bella fussed with Maria’s hair, as she readied her for her evening at Nedgely Hall, her thoughts lingered over the past two days. The very same day that she had blurted out her brilliant—or not so brilliant—plan for the picnic, she had been shocked to find Tom in the sitting room with her uncle when she had come down for dinner. Her rather unorthodox picnic plans were the reason for her uncle wishing to speak to Tom before he left, as Tom had informed her later. Not that she had minded, of course, she was trilled. Still, she would have been even more thrilled, though, if her uncle hadn’t monopolised Tom’s full attention during the entire evening. She had to be content with whatever conversation they could get, snatched whenever her uncle took a breath. Several times she and Tom had been caught laughing quietly beside each other over the complete frustration of the situation.

Her mind suddenly turned to this afternoon, when she and Tom had taken a stroll through Whitmore gardens. She sighed deeply, remembering every detail of it. What an afternoon it had been! He had walked close to her side, as they talked of the things they use to do as children, laughing at some of the pranks they used to play. His arm had brushed against hers several times, causing her heart to race and her pulse to quicken. It was a heady sensation to be that close to him, relaxed and unguarded in each other’s company. He had never brought up the conversation that had gone unsaid from the day before and she was reluctant to broach the subject out of fear that it would ruin the quiet contentment that had built between them. They had been alone when he had taken his leave. She recalled how, as he bowed over her hand, he had brushed his lips against her skin. She cursed herself for acting like a fool, for she remembered having just stood there with her hand pressed against her hot cheek as he took to the saddle of his horse. If she could be any deeper in love with him, she would drown in her own happiness. She was no longer concerned that this was a dream, as her other life seemed like an unwanted distant memory—a faded photograph, neither here nor there. This was all the life she wanted or needed—here, with Tom.