REMEMBRANCE (28 page)

“M, you have to remember! You must remember!” the haunting voice called out to her.

As the room was thrown back into darkness once more, the heavy door suddenly opened and her scream echoed through the air in front of her.

“Oh Miss, it is me, Bella,” the familiar tones came from the silhouetted figure that seemed to fill the entire doorframe. The light of the candle Bella brought in sent its warm glow to her chilled skin. “There is nothing to be afraid of, Miss. I have brought you more candles.”

Maria was sure that her heart was to burst through her chest at any moment. It was beating so fast that she had to drag the air into her lungs to try calming it down.

“Err… thank you Bella,”

“Nasty storm we are having, Miss. Would you like me to build your fire up?”

“No Bella, it will be fine.”

“Well, would that be all, Miss?”

“Yes, Bella. Thank you.”

“If you need me, just ring the bell.”

Maria lit more candles and came to sit in front of her mirror. Her heart raced painfully as the storm brought its vengeance on the land, and her mind was in complete trepidation as she tried to come to terms with what she had seen just before Bella had entered the room. She had seen her own face in the mirror. How was that possible when she stood on the other side of the room? Still, she had no doubt that she had heard those words; she couldn’t have been mistaken about that. What had the words ‘you must remember’ mean? “Remember what?” she asked herself. “What is it that I have to remember?”

She shook her head and lowered her face to her hands. Mr Lewis must have upset her more than she thought with his high-handed tactics, and her state was only enhanced by the storm, for there was no way that she could have seen herself. “Damn that man!”

It was the following morning and, as she burst into the breakfast room to have it out with her uncle, she was shocked to find Mr Lewis sitting at the table, enjoying his breakfast, as if nothing was amiss.

“Good morning, Miss Austin,” he said brightly, “I hope you slept well?” He helped himself to another slice of toast, smearing it with butter. “Did you have any more thoughts on my proposal?” He didn’t have the audacity to look at her as he delivered his last words, which angered her even more.

She didn’t even honour him with a reply and just sped from the room.

“Where is Sir John?” she asked the first servant she came across.

“I believe that he went into town, Miss.”

“He may have gone into town, but I want that man out of the house, do you hear me?” she said with full rage at the poor servant girl. “I do not care if you have to get some of the stable hands to remove him, but I want Mr Lewis out by the time I come back!”

“Yes, Miss,” the young girl was rather taken aback, for she had never seen her mistress this angry and it scared her. “I will see to it straight away, Miss.”

She was still fuming when she reached the tranquillity of the Crystal Pool. How dare her uncle force this on her? How dare he? She picked up a loose stone and tossed into the water. How dare Garth sit there as if he belonged; how dare he assume that she would even consider his proposal? “How dare he?” she shouted angrily. Her life, she thought, was getting worse by the minute.

She spent the best part of the morning sitting on the pool’s bank, contemplating what she should do. She did not want to return to the house, in case Mr Lewis was still there. Tom, she felt, had deserted her in the time of need. Why did he have to go away when she needed him the most? She must get away from this madness, for everything felt as if it was crushing in on her. She wondered whom could she go and visit for a while. She needed to get away, just to get her thoughts together. Was there any distant relative of her uncle’s that lived away from Shropshire?

She could go to London; she had always been promised a season there. It would be good for her to mingle with those who sought a different circle, to go to the theatre or the balls, even the opera. Yes, that is what she shall do! Her mind made up, she decided that she would broach the subject with her uncle as soon as she was back at the house.

Eventually, the heat from the sun drove her into the shade of the oak. She sat upon the dry ground; the touch of its bark was rough against her back as she leaned on it for support. She felt tired of this game. Why did she find herself battling with everything and everyone? She closed her eyes for just a second, her thoughts already planning her escape…

She was floating, like on a cloud, practically weightless—just a feather blowing in the breeze. Everything was hazy; she could not focus. The light distorted across her face—it was like heaven—she felt no pain. She was gasping, but there was no air. Then there was Tom, kneeling in the sunshine at the edge of the Crystal Pool. “Tom,” she called out, but it was if he did not hear. Slowly she moved towards him and touched her hand to his shoulder. “Tom,” she repeated, but he still did not move. Suddenly, she saw tears streaming down his cheeks, his face full of sorrow. “M, I cannot live without you,” he sobbed into his hands. There was a loud noise—then smoke—and she watched him fall.

There was blood, lots of blood! It splattered across her face, and she screamed and screamed. “Tom…”

She was screaming as she woke calling out his name. Her skin was soaked in perspiration, her heart racing. Suddenly remembering where she was, she had a terrible feeling of nausea. She turned her head, as the feeling grew more powerful; the bile was so strong that it burnt her throat.

The house was quiet upon her entering; there was not a servant to be seen. It was on her approach to the stairs that she heard laughter and made her way towards its sound. As the sitting room door swung open, she was faced with her uncle and Mr Lewis smoking cigars and sipping wine. They both looked up at the same time.

“Ah Maria, there you are, dear. I was just telling Mr Lewis here that we hadn’t seen you all morning.”

Garth sat there, a mocking smile spread across his evil face.

“What’s he doing here?” she said accusingly.

“Who? Mr Lewis? Mr Grainger had some urgent business to attend to, so Mr Lewis here is to be our guest for a few days,” he informed her quite happily.

Not needing to hear anything else, she just turned and left the room.

“I really do not know what has gotten into her lately; she has been quite distant for the last couple of days,” Sir John made a comment, as she departed.

“Maybe she is sickening for something?” Garth replied annoyed. “I am sure it is only a temporary thing; you know women.”

Sir John laughed heartily at his remark, “Yes, yes, I am sure that you are right. I can honestly say that I shall never be able to understand her.”

Garth was eager to get back to the topic that he and Sir John had been discussing; her intrusion had all but halted it.

“So you were saying, Sir John, Whitmore Manor was passed to you?”

“Yes, yes, of course, with me being the eldest male heir, Whitmore Manor was passed to me, some 40 years ago.”

“And what of your brother?” he asked with interest.

“Ah, after my brother, God bless his soul, passed away some 15 years back, his wife and child were left in my care. Unfortunately, Elizabeth passed away not long afterwards and I was left to bring up young Maria,” he said sadly.

“I am so sorry for your loss; it must have been a trying time for you,” Garth added his sympathy.

“Yes it was, but having no children of my own, I was happy to bring her up. She was like the daughter I never had.”

“Losing both her parents at such a young age must have been very difficult for Miss Austin.”

“It was very difficult for both of us. I can tell you that I indulged her—even spoilt her. She was such a wild child, always getting up to no good with young Mr Bradley. But it was all harmless fun at the time,” he laughed.

This much he already knew, for Sir John had already spoken of it a few weeks past. Garth was careful to watch his words as he replied, “If I may say, Sir, she has turned out to be a fine young lady.”

“Yes she has. I was disappointed to have to send her away, but she needed to be tamed. If I am honest, I now regret that she had been away for so long. I fear that, in her absence, she has missed out on a great many experiences she could have had here.”

“She must be the object admiration of many wealthy bachelors from these parts,” Garth inquired, trying to get the conversation back to the information he was seeking.

“Yes, yes she is. She is well educated and has many accomplishments. Alas, she will have none of the bachelors. I fear that if she does not change, she will grow into an old spinster,” Sir John said, his voice faltering as he uttered the last words.

“Oh that is such a shame, for she has a remarkable beauty that would attract many a fine suitor. It would be a great loss to all young bachelors, if she refused them all and did not marry.”

“Of course, you are right, Mr Lewis; but what can I say, she is such a headstrong girl and you know women.”

“Yes I understand, Sir John; we all know what women can be like!” Garth forced himself to laugh.

With that, they fell silent for a while, sipping the warming wine from their glasses, deep in thought.

“So Miss Austin is to inherit Whitmore Manor upon your death?” Garth progressed down the path of his intensions.

Sir John’s hearty laugh filled the room at the young man’s suggestion. “I wish that was to be the case, but unfortunately it was written into the deeds upon the marriage of my parents that the Whitmore Estate would be passed down to the next living male heir. Hence, because I have no children of my own, and my brother, as you know, passed away, there is no male heir on my side of the family. Hence, the estate will be passed back to the Bradley line and the heir would be Thomas Bradley.”

“Thomas Bradley?” Garth asked, shocked by this unexpected news.

“I believe that Thomas would take good care of Miss Austin, and he would not see her go homeless, so I have no worries there, for they are like brother and sister.”

Garth could feel the anger welling up inside. So she was worthless? She may be the most beautiful woman he had ever had the good fortune to meet; but, without the money and the inheritance, she was no longer of any interest to him.

“Yes, I am sure that you are right. Mr Bradley would take care of her.” His mouth was a taut line as he forced himself to speak. Still, had he not taken good care of her already? he wondered.

* * * * *

The quiet knock on Maria’s door woke her from her sleep; she had lain on her bed for just a few minutes when tiredness had overtaken her. She rubbed her eyes and, looking out, realized that it had grown dark. The tap at the door sounded again.

“Who is it?” she enquired nervously.

“It is me, Miss—Bella.”

She raised herself slowly, fighting down the feeling of nausea as she moved and went to turn the tiny key in its lock.

“Why have you locked your door, Miss?” Bella asked as she entered.

Maria stepped back to let her pass, “Bella, I do not care for the fact that Mr Lewis is in the house.”

“Why Miss, he seems very amiable; I am sure you have nothing to worry about there?”

“That is not quite true, Bella,” she said, “I do not trust him.”

“Has something happened, Miss?” Bella asked, concern evident in her voice.

Maria looked into her worried face and decided that telling her the truth would not be of any use. “Err… no Bella, I just wanted to make sure that I did not get disturbed,” she didn’t much care for lying to her maid and she was sure that Bella didn’t look altogether convinced with here explanation.

“If it is any news to you Miss, his room is at the far side of the house,” the young girl added.

“Thank you, Bella. I was just wondering is there any news from Mr Bradley? A note maybe?”

“No Miss.”

She sighed deeply with disappointment.

“I am sure that Mr Bradley will be in touch quite soon, Miss,” Bella said cheerily. “I cannot imagine that he would be able to stay away for long. Shall I bring supper to your room Miss?” she offered kindly.

“Thank you Bella, for I do not care to be in the company of the gentlemen tonight.”

“As you wish Miss,” she curtsied before she left.

* * * * *

Her eyes were blurred; she felt a pain on her temple. Cramps crippled her as they radiated through her stomach. Fingers bit into her arms; she felt her body being dragged. She tried to cry out, but she had no voice. Then, there was Tom, kneeling on the grass, sobbing. She started to move toward him, but suddenly halted as she realized that he held a pistol pressed to his temple; he was no longer crying. “It was you!” The gun went off, smoke filled her vision, and Tom lay upon the ground. Laughter, so much laughter—she knew that sound.

Her eyes snapped open at the nightmare that consumed her sleep. She was shaking, her skin cold and clammy from her inner fight. The room was beginning to lighten as the dawn approached. She felt as if she had not slept at all, even though she was still plagued with the memories of her dreams. Why were they tormenting her so? She tried to remember the distorted picture that her mind produced. Did they not say that dreams were your subconscious trying to tell you something?