REMEMBRANCE (9 page)

“Did you not ride when you were at your finishing school?”

She would have laughed at the comment if her fear would let her. Instead, she was still holding on to the reins so tightly that her knuckles ached and her entire body was as stiff as a board.

“Should I take your silence as a ‘no’?”

“Pray forgive me, Tom, it really has been a long time; I assure you that I shall be quite fine in a moment.”

He suddenly smiled at her discomfort, “Maybe we shall just stay to the lower land for today?” he suggested, glancing at her face. “I mean, just until you become familiar with Blaze again.”

“Yes, of course, if you think that it is best.”

He suddenly laughed, for he could not contain his amusement any longer and she shot him a stern look.

“And what, pray, is so amusing?”

“Please forgive me M, but it is a little strange to see you so… so…!”

“So—what?”

“Well… You used to ride as if you were born in the saddle and now…”

“And now… I feel as if I have never ridden before,” she said sadly.

He fell silent. What had they done to her at that school that had taken all the wildness out of her? He could feel his anger rise at what they must have put her through, just to turn her into marriage material for some wealthy bachelor. With her accomplishments by the dozen and her polite ‘yes sir,’ ‘no sir,’ they would only see her as a pretty face, something elegant to hang off their arm, but they would never truly know her inner beauty as he did. He hadn’t been lying last night when he told her that, if he met the right woman, he would marry. He would ask for her hand himself if he really believed that she returned his feelings. Still, he had to be sure that she did before he would approach Sir John.

Although it took a little while, eventually, her body began to relax and she started to rock with Blaze’s movements. She was finally starting to enjoy it and her confidence had started to return. She had noticed that Tom kept watching her; he had grown quiet and she so very much wanted to know what had caused the frown on his brow.

“Shall we canter over to that group of trees?” she suggested rather unexpectedly.

Tom swung round to look at her. “What?”

“I will race you, Thomas Bradley!”

She laughed as she kicked a heel into the stallion’s side and it shot off at speed.

“M… M, are you mad?” he shouted at her departing back, urging his own horse forward to catch up.

The wind blew on her face. Her small bonnet had slipped down the back of her head and now flapped wildly in the wind. It was all coming back to her—the freedom and pure joy that riding the open fields brought. She could hear the rhythmical sound of the hooves against the ground, the blood rushing through her veins as the adrenalin spurred her on, and she finally felt more alive than she had ever done.

Thomas was hot on her heels; his own ride snorted and tore at the dry ground in her efforts to catch the wild stallion. His concern for M’s safety was soon replaced by the thrill of the race as he urged the mare on. They were almost head-to-head when they reached the perimeter of the small wooded area. Her face was flushed and she was laughing happily as she dismounted from her horse, trying to catch her breath.

Thomas arrived shortly after and brought Cleara to a halt at their side. Jumping from the saddle to stand before the M that he remembered, he admired her wild beauty—her hair falling in their loose curls and the mischief shinning in her eyes.

“Why Tom, I do believe that I won.”

“That is not fair; I was at a disadvantage, you started without any warning!”

“Well, I do declare you a bad looser, Mr Bradley,” she laughed.

“And I declare you, Miss Austin, a cheat.”

He watched the way she tossed her hair as she stood her ground before him.

“Well, Mr Bradley, how can you say such a thing?” she scorned innocently.

He didn’t reply; he just watched the way her face held the air of the child he used to know, the naughtiness of her mouth as she giggled in triumph at her win. His body was aroused by her very presence, suddenly lost in the past, when they had carved their initials into the trunk of the old oak tree as a symbol of their love. Had she already forgotten their promise to each other?

“Tom,” her voice sounded ever so soft, as she spoke his name.

He recovered his composure and stared at the concerned look on her face.

“Tom, pray, whatever is the matter? You look so serious.”

“It is nothing; I was just thinking how quickly you have regained your riding skills… Or were you making fun of me all along so that you could win the race?” he smiled.

She gave a quirky little smile in return. “Ah, that is something you will never know, Mr Bradley, will you?”

She was a complete mystery to him. Where once he had been able to read her like a book, she was now akin to the blank pages of his journal. She had definitely changed; although he could still see the glimpses of some of her youthful traits, there was also something, something very different about her.

Maria had become very aware of the tension of emotions building between them and she could feel the magnetism that his body gave out, drawing her to him. Suddenly, she was finding it hard to breathe. His unguarded eyes swam with a mixture of raw longing that he showed so openly and she was sure that those same feelings were reflected in her own.

His face was now only inches above hers, and she could see the tiny bristles on his jaw where he’d shaved. She saw the torment on his face as if he wrestled with an inner demon—trying to decide between the right and wrong course of action.
No
, her mind screamed out…
Kiss me, kiss me! Don’t fight it!
She had never wanted anything so much as she wanted to feel his mouth upon hers now; she longed to feel the texture of his smooth lips moving against her own, to share the very breath that was his. She didn’t want him to think; she just wanted him to act upon his desire. She even wet her lips in preparation and saw how his gaze moved to her mouth to follow the movement of her tongue.
Kiss me, kiss me now!
She repeated her silent plea before he suddenly dropped his gaze from hers.

No
…, she almost cried out in her frustration, as he put some distance between them. She should have taken the lead! She should have kissed him. Yes-No, she struggled with the indecision. Oh God, what would he have thought! She swung away from him, trying to blink back the tears that stung her eyes, dragging the air into her lungs to calm herself.

“We should be getting back,” Thomas said quietly, “It looks that it might rain soon.”

She managed to compose herself and, feeling a little uncomfortable at the silence that stretched between them, finally managed to say, “I shall race you back to Whitmore,” making her voice sound excited. “I promise that I will not put you at a disadvantage this time.”

“I should think not,” he responded, smiling, as he lifted her back into the saddle.

“Are you ready Tom?” she asked as he placed his feet into his stirrups.

He nodded in agreement saying, “One… Two… Three… GO!”

They leaned their heels into their horses’ sides and galloped away down the grassy bank. His heart quickened with animation as if they were 14 and 18 again, exhilaration alight on his handsome face. He had waited six years to experience this wild freedom without its constraints, just as he had done before when he had shared them with his closest friend. Now that he was finally experiencing it, he was enjoying every moment of it. It felt as if she had never been away and he knew that the feelings that he had felt for her then were still very much alive.

They were still laughing as they steered their rides to the front of Whitmore Manor and Thomas gently helped her down onto the gravel drive.

“I think that I won that race!” His voice was enigmatic.

“I let you win,” she teased.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely!”

Once again, he had to restrain himself from wiping that smirk off her face with the kiss he so desperately wanted to place on her lush pink lips. He knew that she had to be able to sense the way he felt, for her own eyes were dark with the same emotions.

The footman came forward to take leave of their rides, unknowingly breaking whatever spell she must have placed on Tom. He had never been one to lose his head over a woman and, as hard as it may be, he wasn’t going to let it happen now. Thus, he turned politely and offered her his arm, leading her into the coolness of the great hall.

“Ah, there you are, my dear,” Sir John’s voice echoed in greeting.

Maria’s face was still shinning up at Tom when she heard her uncle’s voice and she swung away from him as her uncle came towards them.

“I hope that you enjoyed your ride?” he asked.

“Very much,” Thomas spoke for both of them.

“We are having a quiet supper this evening, Thomas. We would love it if you would care to join us—that is if Lady Bradley can spare you?”

He looked sorrowfully in Maria’s direction. “Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement tonight. If I had known, I would have much preferred to have dined with Miss Austin and you, Sir.”

The disappointment at his rejection of supper was quite overwhelming, even though she had no notion of why she felt this way. Still, she was sad to see the afternoon come to an end, for she wanted to spend as much time with her old friend as possible.

“Oh, that’s a shame, dear boy… maybe another time?” Sir John was also disappointed.

“Certainly Sir, it would be my pleasure. If you will excuse me, I will take my leave, Miss Austin,” he said taking her hand in his. He brought the delicate skin in contact with his lips as he bowed, his touch sending ripples of sensation all the way up her arm. He held her eyes with his as he smiled his farewell and she caught herself holding her breath. “Sir John,” he finished as he straightened and turned to leave.

“Ah, Mr Grainger,” Sir John said out loud, “So good of you to join us.”

Mr Grainger, who had been standing in the entrance, moved across the floor in their direction, “Sir John,” he bowed.

Maria noticed that Thomas suddenly came to a stop and scowled with frustration towards the three of them.

“Unfortunately, Mr Bradley is unable to attend, so it shall be just the three of us for supper tonight,” Sir John continued.

“Mr Grainger,” Thomas all but ground out, anger flickering in his eyes, as he turned and stalked out of the door.

“Fine young man, that Mr Bradley,” Sir John added, “fine young man. Come, Mr Grainger, we shall have ourselves a drink before we eat.” As he and Mr Grainger made their way to the sitting room, Maria was left standing on the patterned carpet that covered the polished oak floor. Alone again, fresh emotions ignited within her at Tom’s sudden departure. Not knowing if she would see him again before Sunday was almost unbearable. With a weary sigh, she slowly made her way back to the solitude of her room, where she sat with her diary open across the mahogany top of the dresser, the quill hovering above its pages. She started putting in words what her mind echoed in remembrance.

As she began to write, suddenly a pain stabbed through her head, so strong the quill fell from her fingers, splattering ink across the page. She pressed her temples with her fingers, in an attempt to block it out, but it was to no avail. The pain was getting so severe that her eyes started to hurt in the daylight.  Then, as suddenly as it had started, the excruciating pain ceased. She opened her eyes and saw the shallow pale features of her face staring back at her from the old familiar cracked oval mirror of her white dresser; creases marked her brow as she tried to remember what had happened. Had she fallen asleep? The last thing she remembered was that she had gone to bed with a headache.

The high pitched shrill of the telephone rang through the house. She dragged her eyes away from her image and made her way to where the noisy article sat on the hall table.

“Hello,” her voice sounded distant, “hello,” she called again, but there was no response. The line was dead.

Maria replaced the receiver with a sigh and found that, once again, she was all alone in the big empty house. She seemed to be spending quite a bit of time on her own lately and the sound of silence felt rather eerie. So where were Margaret and her gran? Had they done one of their disappearing acts again? She wandered towards the kitchen and found it empty. A few dirty plates sat upon the worktop, waiting to be cleaned, but there was no sign of the housekeeper. Maria frowned. Where could she be? She walked to the sitting room and found it empty too; so orderly and untouched, that it felt as if hadn’t been used for days. The dust floated in the air as if dancing, caught in the sun’s rays as it shone through the windows, but there was no sign of Gran either. Where were they?

A scowl covered her brow and then suddenly eased away as she remembered that both her gran and Margaret had gone to the Fosters for the evening. Was that today? Had it really only been a few hours since they had left, or was that yesterday? She felt as if she had lost a day. Somehow, a great gap of missing hours had emerged in her mind. Was it yesterday that she was here, talking to Gran about their plans for the evening? Rubbing a hand against her temple, resigned to the fact that she was to spend yet another afternoon in her own company, she decided to take a walk. But, as she passed through the hall, she had the strong urge to go into the drawing room. As she neared the door, she could hear muffled conversation and wondered if she had finally tracked down Gran and Margaret. She held her hand out toward the handle, but then stopped, deciding to listen in at the door.