REMEMBRANCE Page 9

  “I do wish that I had not been away for so long,” Maria said sadly, “I feel that I have missed out on so much.”

  Lady Bradley looked kindly upon the young woman before her. “You may have missed out on the call of the country or your wicked pranks that you and Thomas played,” she laughed, “but you have gained such high recommendations in all the accomplishments that you have obtained,” she complimented. “I know that Sir John is very proud of the way you have turned out.”

  “Ah, and what may I ask, are the two of you plotting?” Thomas’s voice cut into their conversation.

  Maria was taken aback by his sudden appearance at their side; she hadn’t even heard him approach, “Oh… we were just…,” she stuttered.

  “We were just discussing the wicked jokes the two of you used to play on the unsuspecting servants,” Lady Bradley quickly said, coming to Maria’s rescue.

  Thomas looked from one to the other quizzically, “Were you now?” He turned to gaze straight into Maria’s eyes.

  Lady Bradley watched the exchange of looks between the two of them with great interest. Maria could feel herself blush in his presence and she felt like a naughty child who had just been caught.

  “Do not tease Miss Austin, Thomas,” Lady Bradley scolded light-heartedly.

  “I would never do that, mother,” he responded, winking at her comment.

  Maria smiled nervously. Why was it that, every time she was in his company, being in his proximity made her feel all heady and she would lose control of her legs? His very presence seemed to overwhelm her and, once again, she could feel the lure that his body placed on her.

  “So, tell me, Mr Bradley, where is your friend, Mr Carlisle?” Maria asked, once his mother had moved away to join the Grainger’s.

  “Mr Carlisle unfortunately had to return to London,” he responded, somewhat surprised that Maria would be interested in Dudley’s whereabouts. He refrained from mentioning that his friend had had to leave before he caused a scandal with his indiscretions with a married lady from the area. Thomas, on the other hand, found Dudley’s abrupt departure terribly unfortunate for himself because, had he been here, he could have distracted Miss Cartland from smothering him, leaving him to converse with Maria without the added stress of the other woman.

  “That is a shame,” Maria said, a little disappointedly, having the same thought.

  Miss Cartland chose that time to slide her slim figure up to Thomas’s side; the look of distaste that she gave to Maria was for her eyes only and it spoke volumes about what she thought of her. It was at this point that the butler announced that dinner was served, breaking the sudden tension that hung in the air between Miss Cartland and Maria.

  “Mr Bradley, would you be so kind as to escort me through to the dining room?” Miss Cartland purred shamelessly.

  He looked at the woman that now hung on his arm and smiled politely, “Of course.”

  At dinner, Maria found that she was seated next to young Mr Grainger, who embarked immediately into polite conversation with her.

  “I must say, Miss Austin, that it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again after dinner the other night. And I would like to take this opportunity to say that it was a fine ball indeed that your uncle gave,” he smiled, showing slightly crooked teeth.

  He was altogether a very amiable man, and rather pleasantly looking, with his dark hair and brown smiling eyes. One could not help but like this young man; he was eager to please and was a very attentive conversation maker. Still, Maria was rather put out by having to spend an entire meal talking to him, instead of Tom.

  “I should say that I was very surprised on receiving Sir John’s invitation to Upper Bank. Bring your own basket—what an ingenious idea! I believe that it was your suggestion, Miss Austin?”

  “I believe it was, Mr Grainger. I thought that it would add a touch of…”

  “Romance to the picnic… I agree,” he finished her sentence.

  She smiled, “Yes, I suppose it does.” It seemed that her Uncle’s picnic was the talk of the town.

  “I have been led to believe that they are to hold a ball at the Nedgely Inn. It will be the first ball they have held there in a great number of years. It will surely attract the most gallant members of high society. But, alas, it has not yet been confirmed, so we shall all have to wait with anticipation to see if it comes to fruition,” he said, sounding a little disappointed.

  “I am sure, Mr Grainger, that when it does happen, I would be only too happy to take a turn on the floor with you,” she said, smiling.

  She was seated at the far end of the table, across from Thomas and, throughout dinner, she was painfully aware of the attentions Miss Cartland paid her good friend. Maria could not help but notice her body clad in her red silk draped over his side, her admiring smiles she gave for him, her lush red lips parted wantonly as he looked down into her face.

  She could feel the blood boiling in her veins; her heart must have been beating at twice its normal rate, as she sat and watched helplessly as her friend appeared to be enjoying the other woman’s company.

  If I had not been away so long, then Miss Cartland would never have been able to work her way into Tom’s affections, she thought miserably. Instead, she would be the one he would have spent all his time with, she was sure, and she would be now sitting next to him while he smiled down into her face. Jealousy burned in her chest at the sight of the two of them together. She was sure that Tom had looked in her direction several times, but she had turned her attentions quickly back to Mr Grainger, so that he could not see the sparks of green fire that tainted her eyes.

  Mr Grainger observed the direction where Maria’s eyes were repeatedly drawn. “I believe that their union would make a fine match,” he said quietly. Maria noted the tone in his voice and risked a glance at his face. Mr Grainger seemed like a little boy that had just lost his puppy as he watched Miss Cartland. As he continued with the conversation, Maria could not help but notice that his voice held a touch of sadness, “It is said that she has a handsome dowry upon her marriage and you must agree that it would be looked upon most favourably by Lady Bradley.” She knew that he had meant it as polite society gossip, for he could not have known the effect his words would have had on her.

  Her appetite suddenly disappeared, as the lump in her throat tightened. So it was true? This would be the woman Thomas would marry? She felt sick at the thought of it, for she wanted Tom for herself. Had these feelings that threatened to overflow not been for him? She bit back the tears that she knew, had she not been in the company of so many people, would have flown quite freely. Why had she been away for so long?

  “Is everything alright Miss Austin?” Mr Grainger’s voice held concern as he noticed her paleness.

  “Forgive me, Mr Grainger, I have a headache. I have not been able to shake it all day,” she lied.

  “Then, Miss Austin, if you will permit me, after dinner, I shall call for my carriage so that you may take your leave?” he offered sympathetically.

  “Thank you, Mr Grainger, that is very kind of you.”

  Lady Bradley sat in conversation with her companion, as she watched and listened to her guests; she suffered in silence at how the young redhead was engaging her son blatantly in public and thought to herself that it was not proper to behave so openly for everyone to see.

  “Well, I say, Lady Bradley, do you not think that Miss Cartland is making a fine spectacle of herself this evening?” Mrs Webster whispered to her good friend.

  The cool grey eyes of her companion rested on the couple across the table from her. “Yes, Mrs Webster, I believe that you are right, but I also believe that Miss Cartland has found herself with a little competition for my son’s attentions.”

  “Oh, and what do you mean by that?”

  Lady Bradley looked to the far end of the table and her eyes came to rest on the pale features of the exquisite beauty with golden hair.

  Mrs Webster followed her direction, “Do you really thi
nk so?”

  “If I am not very much mistaken, I fear that our Miss Austin has more than friendship in mind where Thomas is concerned and, Mrs Webster, I believe that the feeling is mutual where he is concerned.”

  “Oh, how wonderful! They would make a lovely couple. Do you not think so, Madam?”

  “Yes, they would, indeed; still, I fear that Miss Cartland would not agree, for I think that she already believes that she and Thomas have an understanding.”

  “Oh that is a great shame, for I think that Miss Austin is far more an agreeable match. I do not care for Miss Cartland; she is loud and unbearable.”

  “Yes, Mrs Webster, I am inclined to agree.”

  * * * * *

  “It is such a shame that you are leaving us so soon, Miss Austin,” Lady Bradley said regretfully, as Maria stepped out into the hall, “I was so looking forward to hearing you play the harp; Thomas mentioned that you played it so beautifully.”

  “He did?” she was astonished.

  “But, we shall, I pray, spend plenty of time together in the future—and you could play for me then, I hope?”

  “Yes of course, Lady Bradley,” Maria wished that it could be so, because she found that she liked this lady very much. Still, she was all too aware that, if Miss Lucy Cartland had her way, she would not set foot inside this beautiful house again.

  “Unfortunately, I shall not be joining you all on the picnic. However, if is convenient, maybe we could come to some arrangement for an informal get-together later next week?”

  “Oh, I would like that very much, Lady Bradley.”

  “Then, if you will excuse me, Miss Austin, I shall return to my guests.”

  Lady Bradley bid her farewells and quietly made her way back to the sitting room, where the sound of conversation filtered over to Maria. She stood alone in wait of the carriage Mr Grainger so kindly offered, sad that the evening did not turn out differently. Sorrow edged its way under her skin at the thought of Tom enjoying the rest of the evening with the woman she was fast coming to resent. She lowered her head and made to move towards the entrance. She had not lied about her headache, for even now, as the blood surged through her veins, the pain in her heart was reaching into the small recesses of her mind.

  “Miss Austin?”

  She recognised Thomas’s voice and turned in his direction, sadness evident on her pale face.

  “Pray, tell me, M, what is wrong?” he asked softly, as he came towards her.

  “Please forgive me. It is only a headache, that is all.”

  His face was full of concern as he looked at her. “M, let me escort you home. I will arrange for my carriage…,” he pleaded.

  “Really, Mr Bradley, it is nothing,” she snapped.

  She had made him fully aware that all was not well by the change of her address to him. He did not like the way she had suddenly become very cold towards him, and was mystified by the look in her flashing green eyes that he had not seen before.

  “Please, M, tell me what is the matter. Have I offended you in any manner?” he asked, studying her face for reactions.

  She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, for she could not bear to voice the disappointment she felt.

  “Please, M, what is it?”

  The sound of carriage wheels on the gravelled drive could be heard and, seeking her escape from the scrutiny of his eyes, she curtsied politely.

  “If you will excuse me, Mr Bradley, I will take my leave.” And with a swirl of her skirts, she was gone.

  He was left to stand in the open door as she climbed into the carriage of another, his mind racing over the events of the evening. He desperately tried to understand what he had said or done that would upset her in any way.

  “Miss Cartland,” he muttered under his breath as he recalled the lady’s attentions on him, “Damn!” he swore.

  * * * * *

  As she sat upon the small stool at her dresser, wet stains marked her cheeks. She had been looking forward to her evening at Nedgely Hall; yet, by all accounts, it had gone horribly wrong. The feathered quill hovered above the blank page in the small leather-bound diary as she wrote what she felt.

  I must confess the idea that Tom is to marry Miss Cartland has come as a great disappointment to me. In fact, it is a tragedy that I feel I will never recover from. My heart is breaking, that I cannot deny. I feel at a loss of how to describe Tom’s true feelings for me. I was so sure that, in some way, his were the same as my own, but tonight has put an end to all my dreams. He sees me as a sister and nothing more. Why oh why did Uncle have to send me away? Now, there is no hope and I am lost. Tom is to marry Miss Cartland and I… will be as if I never existed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Full of apprehension, Maria stood with her mother in the small, shadow-lit room. Once again, the nervousness of her position filtered through the barrier she had erected around herself—her protection against the unwanted attention of the unknown. In all of her fifteen years, she had never known why her mother had persisted with the rigorous fascination with doctors, why, in the last twelve months alone, they had visited several different specialists.

  She found Doctor James to be a rather pleasant elderly gentleman, with smiling brown eyes, very different from the others they had seen previously. All others had been uninterested and critical, always prodding and poking, trying to wheedle out of her what kind of childhood she'd had. She felt as if they had implied that her mum hadn't been a good parent to her and most focused on questioning her mother's state of mind, rather than examining her.

  This man, though, was friendly and kind. His office smelt of musty books. Dark wood furniture furnished the dusty room; along its walls sat rows of shelves that housed piles of papers and old photographs.

  “Mrs Austin,” his voice sounded deep, and was slightly gravely, as if it had been worn away by years of heavy tobacco smoking.

  Maria watched as he’d shook hands with her mother, after which they spoke in quietened tones that she could barely hear. She glanced at the low coffee table with a selection of old magazines and several cups still half-filled with liquid, and wrinkled her nose as the old, noisy table fan wafted the scent of stale coffee in to the air.

  For a few minutes, she became invisible to the other two, for they were immersed into a discussion regarding whatever it was that they thought didn’t warrant any of her contribution. She fiddled with the end of her braid, simply for something to do, and pretended to concentrate on the clock that balanced precariously on the end of the fire mantle.

  “And this must be Maria?” doctor James suddenly said, turning his attention to her. She looked at him nervously, not quite knowing what to expect. “Your mother has told me so much about you; she tells me that you love to paint—a proper little artist,” he talked to her as if she was six years old and his paper thin skin creased with wrinkles as he smiled.

  “Come on, M, say hello to Doctor James.”

  “Hi,” was all she could manage.

  His deep chuckle filled the small room and Maria instantly felt herself relax. She remembered her mum’s promise that this would be the last one. She knew that there was nothing to fear from this old man; it would be just like all the other times—he would speak with her and they would talk about her childhood and then she and her mother would go home.

  She could hear the hypnotic tone of his voice while she lay on the worn leather couch and stifled a giggle.

  “Now, Maria, I want you to let your body relax, clear your mind, feel yourself drifting. There is nothing but an open field; in that field is an object. Concentrate on that object.”

  The clock ticked quietly in the background, mingling with the sound of a car outside the window, as her mother shuffled in the chair behind her.

  Trying to contain her laughter, Maria wriggled on the hard, cold leather and concentrated on trying to keep her face void of the humour that was bursting to break free. Her mother must have gone quite mad to play along with this old man! Did they r
eally think that listening to whatever mumbo jumbo he made up was going to turn her in to... whatever it was her mum wanted her to be? Suddenly, she was filled with the horrible sense of foreboding. She hadn’t really given much thought to why her mum had persisted with visiting all the doctors. But now, as she did think about it... She was acutely aware of how difficult it had become to breathe, her chest rose and fell with each laboured gasp.

  “Is this normal?” she heard her mother ask.

  Her panic rose. She needed to get out—out of this room. However, when she tried to move her arms to sit up, nothing happened. Her whole body seemed to have lost the ability to cooperate with her brain and even her mind was becoming groggy. Suddenly, everything became silent. She was aware of an eerie black emptiness, where only the sound of her ragged breath penetrated the void. Just when she thought there was no escape and of being stranded in this pit of nothingness, she felt the wind on her face, and sensed an orange light heating her numb limbs. When slowly she opened her eyes, she saw a field covered in long grass waving gently in the breeze.

  “Come on, M,” she suddenly heard Tom call her, laughing happily.

  Although she was surprised to find him there, she felt warmed by his presence. He was her best friend, the one person she could always rely on. He was walking slightly ahead, his blond hair ruffled by the wind blowing across the field; the features of his familiar face crinkled with that crooked smile she had grown to love.

  “Come on M,” his hand outstretched to her. “We need to be away from here before they find out what we’ve done.”

  “Done?” she repeated, a little confused.

  “Hurry M, if Sir John catches us, there will be the devil to pay,” he urged her, as he quickened his pace.

  “Wait for me, Tom!” she called out.