REMEMBRANCE Page 7

  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.

  “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 ghos
t 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 burden
s 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?”