REMEMBRANCE Read online

  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

  PROLOGUE_ 6

  CHAPTER ONE_ 7

  CHAPTER TWO_ 15

  CHAPTER THREE_ 30

  CHAPTER FOUR_ 60

  CHAPTER FIVE_ 106

  CHAPTER SIX_ 112

  CHAPTER SEVEN_ 133

  CHAPTER EIGHT_ 143

  CHAPTER NINE_ 167

  CHAPTER TEN_ 189

  CHAPTER ELEVEN_ 206

  CHAPTER TWELVE_ 221

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN_ 230

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN_ 251

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN_ 275

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN_ 289

  EPILOGUE_ 295

  PROLOGUE

  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.

  CHAPTER ONE

  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 10th 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 nothi
ng 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.

  “My, my, Tom, your sense of humour does you credit. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were deliberately avoiding revealing the real reason for asking me to come here.”

  Thomas shook his head; as much as he tried, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

  “So, I take it that the delightful Miss Cartland is still in possession of her innocence. You must be slipping, Tom!” Dudley teased, “Or is the fact that you’ve been caught in a compromising position with her the reason for calling me here?”

  “Dudley, I wish that you would be serious for one minute.” Thomas laughed as he took his seat behind the desk. “You know that I only returned yesterday, which hardly gave me time to place myself in an unwelcome position with any young lady.”

  “Yes, yes. Still, I believe that I was right to begin with; you are definitely slipping.”

  “Be serious.”

  “Me!” Dudley feigned a hurt expression, “I am nothing but serous when it comes to beautiful women.”

  Thomas smiled, knowing that Dudley would, of course, always think with the contents of his britches rather than his head, having just experienced his match making with certain ladies of an unsavoury kind these last weeks. Thomas, though having found many of Dudley’s choices very attractive, chose not to indulge with women that preferred booze to bathing and had small unwanted creatures gracing their hair and private parts.

  “Mmm, you are right; I would never have considered you any other way.”

  “So tell me then, what is it?” Dudley leaned forward curiously.

  On that cue, Thomas pushed the invitation card towards him. Dudley automatically leaned closer and scanned the writing. Having read the content of the note, he sat back and raised the glass to his lips.

  “Ah!”

  “Ah!” Thomas echoed.

  Dudley looked up, very serious all of a sudden, “This is unexpected.”

  “Mmm.”

  “I take it that it’s the same Miss Austin that you have repeatedly spoken of over the last six years?”

  “The very one.”

  “Ah!”

  They sat in silence for a while, both content to savour the flavour of their drinks; both lost in their own thoughts.

  “I take it that you will be going?” Dudley spoke first.

  “Yes.”

  “Mmm, I thought so.”

  Silence ensued as both men considered the implications of such action.

  “What is it you expect from meeting her again after all this time?” Dudley was the first to speak.

  Thomas considered this question, which occupied his mind ever since he saw the invitation. What was it that he expected? The opening of old wounds, anger, resentment, love at first sight?

  “I have no expectations. I shall go, as requested, as my mother wouldn’t have it any other way.” The lie didn’t sit well with him and he could tell by Dudley’s broad grin that he didn’t believe a word of it.

  “Six years is a long time Tom, people change.”

  “I know.”

  Dudley leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees, “She was about fourteen the last time you saw each other?”

  Thomas nodded.

  “My God, man, she could be as ugly as they come, changed beyond all recognition from that girl you knew.”

  Silence filled the air again.

  Dudley seemed incapable to keep his opinions to himself, for he continued, “You might find that she has changed so much and you would realise that what you held on for the past six years was only a childish fantasy of a young hormonally charged boy that—and I don’t mean this unkindly—had imagined being in love with her.”

  Thomas didn’t raise his head. Instead, he just sat, brooding over the reasons for him being sent the invitation.

  “But you’re still going to go, right?”

  Thomas raised his head finally, as the smile crinkling his face lit up the blue of his eyes, “Yes.”

  Dudley thought for a few seconds, “It’s tomorrow night…” he paused, “There is always the option of not going. I mean, why risk ruining a beautiful memory? There is always a chance that the lady in question will not live up to you expectations.”

  “I had thought of that, but my mother—and you know how my mother can be—has probably been plotting this small but elaborate get together with Sir John for weeks, and it is just unfortunate that she is unable to attend the function herself, having come down with a head cold. She will be expecting me to attend to uphold the Bradley standing in society; it is what’s expected of the Lord of Nedgely after all.”

  “Mmm.”

  “And besides, who else but her own son would give her the exact run down of the evening’s events? She is confident that only I will tell it as I see it.”

  “Then, I suppose, I am to accompany you, just in case the ugly duckling still has her childish fantasy intact and wishes to pursue her interest?”

  “I will understand if you have alternative arrangements,” Thomas said guiltily, having decided that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to have dragged his friend here under such stupid circumstances.

  “No, no, not at all! I think that I am rather looking forward to finally meeting the young lady you fantasised about for so long.”

  “Maybe you should go back to London, Dudley. I feel terrible for cutting your stay there short.” Thomas stood, frustration now edging his words. Maybe it would be best if he didn’t attend the ball, no one would miss him. His mother, on the other hand, would have a lot to say about it and Dudley would rib him constantly regarding the mysterious Miss Austin. Still, what could they say that he hadn’t told himself a hundred times since receiving the invitation? “Maybe I won’t go after all.” Yet another lie.

  Dudley smiled to himself, thinking that, if Tom could see his own face now, he would have been shocked to note so much anguish, such a dilemma.

  “As you wish,” Dudley said trying to hide the humour in the whole situation.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Shropshire, England, Present Day

  They stood beneath the shelter of the old oak tree, wet through. Their laughter echoed through the still air. The heavy rain had put an end to their childish game of throwing stones across the glass-like surface of the Crystal Pool.

  “I do believe mine went furthest,” Maria announced excitedly.

  “And I believe that you cheated,” her companion accused her.

  “I do not know how you can say such a thing,” she teased. “I thus declare you a bad loser.” Noting the way he raised an eyebrow sceptically at her denial, she posed seductively to distract him and schooled her face to that of pure innocence.

  “If you had not chosen my stone, I would not have been at a disadvantage,” he continued shakily.

  “Come now, admit it. I won!” Her face was full of mischief.

  Her heart had began to beat wildly as they stood close together under the large branches, which gave little protection from the water that escaped the darkening clouds. She could tell that he knew the conflict was already lost; had she not always been the one that would have to win at everything? She stifled a giggle at the sight of the torment on his face.

  Suddenly, she noticed the way his gaze wandered slowly over her, taking in the way the thin c
otton material of her summer dress enhanced the contours of her young body, and how the water dripped from her hair onto her neck. A faint blush highlighted her cheeks, making her unease under his close scrutiny all too apparent.

  “Uncle John is probably wondering where we are; he will not be at all happy,” she spoke nervously, as she shook her natural curls.

  He stood before her with a smile of admiration on his face.

  “Ahh, that he will. Still, I fear that Sir John is quite used to our wild ways and will not worry unduly, Miss Austin.”

  She halted and looked at him, defiantly.

  “How many times, have I told you to call me M when we are not in company?”

  “Well let me think, it must be one hundred at least. And how many times, Miss Austin, have I told you that I am simply Tom when we are not in company?” he teased, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

  “Ooh, now let me think…” Impulsively he reached out and started to tickle her and she buckled at the waist as uncontrollable giggles escaped her lips. “Stop it, stop it!” she begged as he kept on tickling. “Tom, please, I beg you.”

  “Ahh, submission,” he shouted triumphantly.

  “You are a wicked boy; you tricked me.”

  “Of course, but I got what I set out to do.”

  “Oh yes, and what was that, pray?”

  “I got you to say my name.”

  “Oh you,” she spoke as she returned the tickle without mercy.

  “M… I’m sorry,” he said, clutching at his chest that now hurt from laughing.

  She stood with her hands resting on her slim hips and flicked her damp hair so that it fell in loose ringlets down her back. She watched him regain his composure, admiring his broad shoulders as the muscles rippled beneath his wet shirt. His ruffled blond hair was cut short in a way every young man of the day found fashionable, and his handsome face was dominated by the bluest eyes she had ever seen. She noticed the way they were drawn to her face and saw something within their depths that she had never seen before. Feeling a little nervous at the unusual sensations that flooded her body, she swung herself sideways, trying to hide the excitement her face conveyed.