REMEMBRANCE (32 page)

Seconds seemed to blend into minutes, and thirty passed before Doctor Macclesfield finally made an appearance. His air of authority brought a little calm to the chaos of the room.

Lady Bradley put a hand to Sir John’s arm as he watched on, “Sir John, let the doctor do his work,” she said, trying to guide him from the room.

“I cannot leave… Look at her, she is dead!” he cried out.

“She is not dead,” Lady Bradley informed him. “Please, Sir John, no good will come of it if we stand here gawking. Come.” He let her lead him from the room.

Doctor Macclesfield helped the servants to ease away the man that hung on to the woman. “Mr Bradley, I need to see to her—please let her go.”

One by one, they removed his white fingers that had become entwined in her clothes. His face was stained with his own tears and Maria’s blood, where he buried his head into her soft bosom.

“I… I cannot leave her,” his voice cracked, “I cannot.”

“I have to work, Mr Bradley. Please.”

When they had eventually prised him loose, the doctor saw to Tom quickly, but he was more concerned about the young woman lying on the bed, its covers drenched with her blood.

“I need hot water, lots of hot water… and towels… now please!” he commanded.

Thomas, who had regained control of his senses, even though the blow to his head had left him with a blinding headache, was fully aware that the blood covering his body had been Maria’s and not his own. With every passing second, his concern grew for the woman who lay death-like on the sodden sheets. How could anyone lose that much blood and still be alive?

He was ushered from the room; Bella had insisted that the doctor should be left to get on with his job. He looked back at his love, not knowing whether she would live or die. He did not want to leave; he wanted to be with her every second, knowing that these moments could be her last.

“Please, Mr Bradley,” the doctor scolded, “I need to work!”

“Please?” Bella said kindly to his worried face. “She is in the best of hands. You can wait just outside the door.”

Reluctantly, he removed himself from the stuffy room, and leaned against the wall on the landing, his head lowered to his chest. Servants rushed in and out, and every time the door opened, he tried to step back inside, but they shooed him out again.

“Tell me what happened?” Sir John demanded as they stood in the hallway. He hadn’t meant to sound so stern, but he was greatly worried for his niece’s safety and it just came out that way.

Thomas looked up, his face drained of all colour, his eyes shadowed with pain. His silence stretched out between them.

“I ask again, Mr Bradley, who was it?”

Maria’s face flashed into his mind, how deathly grey her skin had looked when he spotted her just below the level of the water—her hair floating hauntingly like white silk. His breath caught in his throat and he choked back a sob. He could feel the sickness in his stomach and he fought the urge to escape the scrutiny of those around him.

“Mr Bradley?”

The sound of his name crept into his head, dragging him from the horror he had seen and he lifted his head slightly to meet Sir John’s gaze, “It was Garth Lewis,” he said in a hushed voice.

“Garth Lewis?” Sir John repeated.

“I… I got there just in time. He was killing her.” He stopped, as the images came to his mind and he clutched a hand over his eyes, desperate to block it out.

“Garth Lewis! Why, the scoundrel! Where is he? Where is he, I say? I will run the blighter through!” he shouted.

Thomas hung his head with tiredness, running his blood-covered hands through his hair. He felt so very weary and it took all of his willpower not to sink to the floor and weep.

“I was sure that he would kill me too,” he suddenly spoke, as the horrific images flashed into his head once more. “He was going to shoot me, for sure.”

“Thomas?” Lady Bradley came towards her son and placed a gentle hand on his sleeve, “Where is he now?”

“He was going to shoot me,” he continued, as if he did not hear. “He tried to kill M!” His voice started to break and he gasped back a cry.

“Thomas, where is he?” she persisted.

He raised his eyes to look at the once beautiful face of his mother, which was now ashen and full of sympathy for her son’s plight.

“Where is he, Tom?” she whispered.

“He was going to kill me!”

Lady Bradley rubbed her hand calmingly along his forearm. “Where is he now, dear?”

“He is dead,” he said in a low voice.

She looked at him in horror. Her reaction was the same as when he had informed her of his plans to have children with his mistress; the shock and disbelief had crossed her face then were all too apparent now.

“Do not worry, Mother, I did not kill him; he accidentally shot himself. You will find his body at the Crystal Pool.”

She looked quickly to the men who stood in wait of instructions and motioned them to go and find his body.

In that moment, Doctor Macclesfield came out of the room, his white shirt stained with blood. He was in the process of rolling his sleeves down, as he approached Sir John. His face held the look of a man who was to bear bad news.

“I am so sorry, Sir John,” he spoke quietly, “she has lost a lot of blood.” he touched his hand to her Uncle’s sleeve. “I am so sorry; I was unable to save the child.”

Sir John looked upon the doctor, his eyes full of sorrow.

“I fear that an infection will set in and I think you need to prepare yourself for the worst”

Thomas’s senses had suddenly come to life as he heard the good doctor’s words and kicked his aching body from the wall where he leant and moved closer. Had he heard correctly? Had the doctor just said that she had lost a child? His head had started to ache and the sickness threatened him once more. Child, his child? He had not known! How could he not have known? Remorse overtook him; he could feel the pain encroach through his whole body and settle in his chest. How could he not have known? He covered his eyes with his hands as he wept.

“I do not understand, Doctor Macclesfield? A child?” Sir John looked puzzled. “How could she have lost a child?”

“You did not know?” the doctor asked.

Sir John shook his head. “How could she be with a child? She was untouched.”

Lady Bradley stepped forward slightly, casting a glance towards her son, “Sir John?”

“How could this be?” he mumbled and then, as if someone had just turned a light on in the old fellow’s head, his eyes bored straight into Thomas. “It was you wasn’t it? You sullied her?” With every word he spoke, his voice grew angrier. “You took her? You…? You have ruined her… Do you hear Thomas Bradley…? YOU HAVE RUINED HER!”

He moved quickly and was upon Thomas before he had time to think. Lady Bradley moved too and tried to ease him away.

“Sir John, please… You have no idea!” she cried.

“No idea?” He fumed, “He took a sweet innocent girl and he ruined her?” His hands were round Thomas’s throat.

Thomas gripped the old man’s chubby wrists to loosen the hold until he was pulled away by a couple of the servants. He stood quite still as he gasped the air into his lungs with shock.

“He has ruined her… I have failed her and now she will die…” Sir John sobbed as he crumpled to the floor. “She will die and it will be as if by my own hand. I was supposed to watch out for her—I promised; I promised.”

Lady Bradley knelt beside him, enveloping him in her arms, trying to comfort her friend.

“It is not like that, Sir John. You have not failed. Thomas and Maria love each other,” she whispered, taking a saddened look at her son. “They love each other.”

Thomas watched in bewilderment at what was happening; his whole world was collapsing around him. Not only was there a possibility that he could lose the woman he loved, he had lost a child he never even knew was conceived and now even Sir John hated him. He took the opportunity and slipped back through the open door of Maria’s room.

Thomas sat on the rocking chair at the side of her bed. His body engulfed with fatigue, he had stayed at her side since the moment he had re-entered the room. She looked deathly pale; her skin was clammy and she moaned and writhed under the sheets as her body fought to survive.

As fever swamped her slim frame, he felt truly helpless. Knowing that there was nothing that he could do to help her was making his torment even worse. He dabbed the cool wet cloth to her forehead, knowing that really it did nothing to sooth her. The doctor had informed him that nothing else could be done. There was a chance that she would make it through, but he did not hold much hope. Once the infection took hold, who knew what would happen?

This was a new type of torture, a kind he had never experienced before. His heart ached painfully at the thought of life without her. How was he to continue in this world if she was not there beside him? She was his life; she was the breath that filled his lungs, the food that his eyes feasted on. If there was no M, there was no Tom—they were one of the same and either of them was nothing without the other, for they would have nothing to wake for, nothing to make the blood flow in their veins… There would be no point to living without M, and he may as well end his life here with her.

“Please do not… do not leave me, M!” His voice was all but a choked whisper, “I cannot bear the thought of life without you.” He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand; his tears had all but dried up. He was too scared to go to sleep for fear that that she would call out for him and not find him by her side.

As he sat by her motionless figure, he had taken to talking to her; reminiscing about their childhood and the adventures that they had been on, telling her of his visions of their future together, describing all the things that they were going to do, and their children. He knew that she might not be able to hear the words he spoke, but he found that it helped him—helped him from going mad from lack of sleep, of having to watch her suffer so.

It reminded him of the dream he’d had. He believed that he’d fallen asleep under the oak tree at the Crystal Pool. He and M were walking through the long grass of the field, she’d been trailing behind, which he found to be unusual for her, for they always remained at each other’s side. He’d watched as she’d anxiously looked about her as if searching for something. When he’d called to her, she’d approached him with haste, but there was fear in her pretty eyes. Suddenly, her image had become like a ghost right there, before his own eyes. He’d been filled with horror and awoken with such a start. He wondered if the dream had been real, for he felt that it had actually happened—that image of her and the sound of her voice as she’d called out to him had haunted him many times since that day. Ever since, a feeling that she was to be taken from him and there was nothing he could do to prevent it occupied his every waking moment. He had often wondered what her life had been like while she had been away at school and, although he had prayed for her safe return, he’d had the feeling that her life was not as it ought to be. With her sudden departure, their connection had been severed and he could no longer feel her thoughts, her feelings. After a long absence, she had returned a different person. Still, only the surface was different, for she had never lost that inner quality that he had fallen in love with. What had happened while she had been away? Only she could tell him the answers to the questions he had often pondered on. He now wondered if he would ever know why she remembered some events from their past, yet seemed to have forgotten others. It was as if certain memories had been wiped from her mind.

Hours had passed, or maybe even days; time seemed to slip into one. On several occasions, he had heard his mother and Sir John whispering outside the door. Even though they tried to keep their voices low, anybody within a two-foot radius could not help but overhear.

“Oh Bertie, what am I to do with her? I feel that I have let her down badly. I should have been more aware of what was going on, but I fear that I have neglected my duties and have not held up to the promise I made to her parents.

“We both made a very grave mistake, my dear friend. If we had stopped long enough to understand the situation and not forced them apart, I believe that none of this would have happened. I fear that all the misery both Maria and Tom had suffered is our fault entirely; we should have listened to our children. My heart aches terribly for what has passed and what we have put them through.”

“I am still finding it difficult to come to terms with what Thomas has done. He took her and got her with child.”

“For that, I am truly sorry, but I know that he had her best interests at heart. They are in love and you know how foolish love can make you. Still, they would have not done this had we accepted their wishes in the first place.”

“You are such a wise woman, Bertie, for I understand your meaning only too well. Do you think that I have forgotten? Not a day goes past that I haven’t thought about us—about our love.”

“Please John; let us not go over what has already passed.”

“Do you think that, if circumstances had been different…Do you think that you and I would have been happy together?”

“You know that I cannot answer that. Back then, I had obligations and responsibilities to uphold.”