Times Hearts
By
Jess Elizabeth O’Connell
Copyright and License Notice
Cover Image and Design by Jess Elizabeth O’Connell
Copyright 2013 by Jess Elizabeth O’Connell
All Rights Reserved
Contents
A Note from the Author
Cascade
Serenade
Glissade
Masquerade
Persuade
A Note from the Author
‘Times Hearts’ is a small collection of short stories/mini novellas about romance, relationships through various genres. This is a first collection/edition to be published under ‘Times Hearts’ there are two further editions in the offing. I enjoyed writing these stories and hope you will enjoy reading them too!
Jess
--
Cascade
He looked away. He couldn't stand it! It had been a few years and now as his eyes gazed upon the woman who he had left and was here, now laughing while on the phone, and she was looking hotter than ever, so much so it made him squirm in his seat.
Having not expected this, and the sudden remembrance of looking intensely into her eyes...those hazel eyes!! God!! Remembering how she had loved him and how she had messed things up badly, and the recall of those last words he issued to her during their break up, hit home. ..
'Never again, there is no chance of us happening ever again!'
She had begged and pleaded with him, but his mind had been made up.
He had since been looking for someone else, he hadn't wanted to be on his own he loved the companionship and 'other self' in the relationship and Cathy had come close to being that dream of his. In his life, he had known no other woman to come so far with him and to share all the hopes and aspirations he had, and she was as sexy as hell!
Having still remained in contact with her, they were somewhat 'friends', but he had not laid eyes upon her in the flesh for such a long time now he had forgotten the little things, the things that had made her special in his life!
He had met someone since, but she left him after two months. She didn't say why! And then it was back to the drawing board again and here he was sitting in his car across the road, staring at the woman who could have been his everything...and was still his ...everything!
Clearing the lump that seemed to form in his throat, he drew a breath and climbed out of the car. Locking the door, he glanced across again, the sunlight hit her hair...'her hair,' ...'oranges'...
He could not take his eyes off of her... paused...his hand still held onto the car keys still in the car door.
'If only it were possible', he thought...'If only'...
He would wait for the traffic to pass, so he could get across the road. He had maybe this one opportunity to redress the issues that had plagued their relationship. He hoped with all his heart that it might work. Seeing her again had not been something he had expected himself to have wanted, not after what had transpired between them.
The traffic passed in what was like endless streams. His gaze, steely transfixed upon her across the road from him. Then suddenly she rose from her seat at the café to greet a man with a kiss on the cheek and a quick embrace.
Momentarily he stood frozen, and then quickly got back inside his car. His emotions kicked in again! He could not believe how stupid he was, and how stupid to even consider returning to a relationship with her. He berated himself silently as he clutched the steering wheel in a tight grip. The last chance was gone. He would have no future with her, she had found someone else. Someone to love and care for her, to wake up each morning and look into those hazel eyes and run his fingers through her orange scented hair and to hear that warm giggle of hers. No more. It was all gone. Gone forever!
He started the car and waited for a clearing to move out and disappear into the traffic line. Just another number again...
Across the road, Cathy sat talking with Marc her long distant cousin from America. She had not seen him in years. She had wondered about him, but had lost contact as he had moved a lot, from Australia, to Hawaii, then to settle in America. His wife would be along the next day, she got delayed because of her work.
Resting a hand under her chin, she listened as Marc chatted away about what he had been up to in America, her eyes drifted away to the road and the heavy commuter traffic. It was always bad at this time, it seemed like everyone was on their way home.
She then saw a dark grey car pull out from the curb. Instantly she thought of Eric. The brand name and style of car always did remind her of him. She watched it as it moved out and sped off. Her heart had pounded, became heavy as memories surged, she felt the tears well up in her eyes. His memory still had that effect on her. She still loved him so very much, but she knew he had moved on with his life, that they would never be again, but how she wished it was otherwise...a tear trailed down her cheek as the memories of him flooded back...
The car was gone.
--
Serenade
She didn't know anyone at the party. Her eyes softly gazed across at the strangers who filled the room. It was a large hall with golden framed magnificent canvas paintings and sparkling chandeliers.
She was only here because her father, who was too ill to attend and her brother who had accompanied her, was engaging in an intimate conversation with some young pretty thing, the other side of the room.
The orchestra was playing a beautiful piece of music, 'Somewhere in Time’; it touched her heart and made her smile, but also made her feel sad. She listened to the strings as it carried her along, for one moment, captured by the heart of the music as it enveloped her, she closed her eyes.
Opening her eyes, she looked towards the wooden flooring and then she looked up ahead of her....Her breath paused; her heart seemed to do the same. A small shiver of warm goose bumps travelled her skin.
A man, she had not seen before, was staring at her....
Her eyes met a delicate blue across a sea of people. The eyes that looked back at her, were ones filled with a small dissipating shock, flowing into a pulsating smile. The smile reached his lips as he made his way slowly through the crowd, she held her breath, almost frozen in his captive gaze.
He was handsome in the beautiful sense of the word. He was tall with dark blonde hair and wore a suit of black with a crisp white shirt and black bow tie. His fingers clutched a stem glass filled with white wine.
He placed it on the table beside her. Taking her hand and without saying a word, he brought her through the crowd to the centre of the room, where other people were dancing slowly to the music
She looked into his eyes as he returned the gentle contact. His fingers held her along the column of her spine; she could feel his touch on the small of her back through the lightness of her dress. His other hand clasped around hers. Her feet felt lighter than air, as they moved slowly to the music.
Her heart warmed, ripples of joy melted into breath. She never knew all these emotions from just a glance, a look into his eyes. It was as if she had known him all her life, but how could she have? It did not matter he was here and in her arms. She was safe.
As the orchestra continued to play ‘Somewhere in Time’ she closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them again, she found herself outside in the rose garden, he was still moving her in a slow waltz, locking his gaze with hers.
He stopped dancing and left her arms, as he turned to walk by her side.
‘Who are you?’ he asked in a deep breathed tone. He looked towards her in a slight but soft quizzical manner.
‘Hazel’ she replied, tilting her head at an angle to naturally mirror his own. It was almost automatic. She had not told herself to do it but once she was aware of it, she looked a
round the garden instead.
She could feel his eyes upon her, the feeling that her every movement was being noted!
He moved to stop her next step by standing in front of her. Taking her hand he gently pressed it to his lips, ‘I’m Aspen deLaurent.., and you...you are the most ‘... He was abruptly cut off by her brothers’ entrance into their company.
‘Hey I’ve been looking all over for you,’ he paused for a breath, ‘we have to go as mother wants to us to meet the Sheltons back at the house. ‘I’ll call George for the car,’ with that he left her and disappeared back into the house.
Hazel turned to look into Aspen’s eyes. She noticed the frown, his serious look, but also something else. She smiled gently. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips. It took her by surprise. She didn’t know where to look and all her feelings were suddenly confused!
‘You are so beautiful, M’Lady,’ he spoke as he took her hand to hold it in both of his cool hands.
Aspen looked at her, he smiled, his eyes softly upon her. He moved the strands of hair that blew gently across her face. He cupped her chin in his hand and leant again to kiss her. This time Hazel responded to the kiss. Aspen then held her in his arms and whispered ‘How long I have waited for you. How the days and nights have never been the same. For you, the world I have been longing for, for you...for you, I will love always, dear heart.’
His words made Hazel smiled. She was about to reply to him, when her brother returned.
‘C’mon the car is waiting!’ You can have a look around the garden another time!’ Hazel realised her brother had completely ignored Aspen.
He stood where she had left him. She felt the heat of his eyes bore into her back, which gave her warm goose bumps up and down her spine. She had only met him, yet she felt she knew him, how she didn’t know. He was a complete stranger who made her feel like the only woman in the world!
A few weeks later, Hazel made her way back to Mustead.
She was answered by a strange man at the door. ‘Hello, I’ve come to see Mr deLaurent, is he home?’
The man suddenly gasped and a shocked expression crossed his face. ‘Come in.’
‘Please wait here,’ he added.
She heard a door closing somewhere as it echoed through the large house.
This time another strange man, dressed in a very stylish suit came over to her. He like the other man seemed to take a sharp intake of breath, again with a shocked expression! This was all so confusing to Hazel.
He shook her hand.
‘How may I be of assistance?’ he asked in a deep tone.
Hazel again repeated, ‘I’ve come to see Mr deLaurent. Is he home?’
The blood seemed to drain from the man’s face, after she had spoken.
‘Oh my!’ Extracting a handkerchief from his jacket top pocket, he mopped his brow. ‘Please come with me to the library, we need to talk.’
Hazel was now truly confused and somewhat troubled. She followed to the library where she took a seat in the mahogany room, which was lavished with books and furniture that was covered in dust covers.
‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked as he poured red wine from a crystal decanter into one stem glass.
‘No thank you,’ she replied, looking at him quizzically ...’is there something wrong?’
The man drank the red wine in one swallow. He looked at her with concern and then responded..
‘Yes,’ as he sank into the dust covered chair. ‘I’ve got something to tell you that you will not believe. You may find it hard to take but there is proof which I will show you.’ He paused, he looked to the floor and then back to Hazel.
‘You asked about Mr deLaurent...’
‘Yes,’ she added
‘Well ...Mr deLaurent... has been deceased for many years’...
Hazel shot up out of her chair, her heart pulsing fast. She too, felt the all the colour drain from her face. She shook a little.
She forced a swallow ...’You mean to tell me that Mr Aspen deLaurent...is DEAD?!’ An expression of disbelief crossed her face,
‘I’m afraid so’ he replied matter of factly.
The man moved out of the chair, requesting her to follow him to the farther corner of the library, through another door.
This time the room was massive. It had gold gilt furniture and antique ornaments. Large framed paintings lined the room.
The man pointed in the direction of the fireplace. She looked at the painting above the fireplace.
It was him!!
Goosebumps and chills coursed her skin. She moved nearer to the painting. The dark blonde hair, the blue eyes, the smile...she recognised it all, but his clothes were different. He was wearing 19th century clothes of dark blue velvet. Hazel moved closer to the title at the bottom of the painting.
It read: Sir Aspen deLaurent b: 1789 – d: 1861
--
Glissade
The day began like any other, a day in which Laura sat outside in the early morning sunshine. Catching bird songs as the grey cumulus of dawn gave way to white wisps that dispersed to reveal an undercoat of blue. The day had begun like any other but for one thing, when the post had arrived it brought with it a card. The card wasn’t from a friend or relative but from a man she knew years ago.
She stared at the envelope. Its contents still undisturbed, as it lay upon the garden table. The post stamp was dated some twelve years ago. Twelve years ago! It was sheer disbelief that this, as she was sure it was, should find its way to her now.
Why after all these years, why it had come? There was a small note with it from the post office, stating it had been found under a box in the sorting office and with apologies. It seemed remarkable.
She contemplated opening it. But the memories flooded back to her birthday eleven years ago. He had brought her to a restaurant. She remembered wearing a beautiful white dress, his aftershave of fresh musk scent, the look in his eyes how he looked at her holding her hand across the table while they waited for the food.
Such heaven! How wonderful it had been. How the goose bumps used to travel her skin, how his fingers use to move the wisps of her hair away from her face. Gently, a smile would light up his eyes; his rich voice was so intoxicating. ‘You look gorgeous tonight,’ he said with a smile thank you she smiled back in a shy manner she was never a great at accepting compliments but his words were magic.
He had given her a beautiful birthday card and a lovely silver bracelet, along with a bouquet of white roses to her earlier. The bracelet was now adorning her small wrist. The dainty silver and red hearts charms dangling from it.
When the waiter brought a cake that was decorated with a single lit birthday candle in the centre, he had started singing, ‘Happy Birthday’ to you the waiter joined in and the whole restaurant followed she remembered feeling quite overwhelmed she felt a rush of heat as she blushed.
When she blew out the candle, there was a huge round of applause she got up from her chair and took a bow of thanks.
Her gaze turned to him she smiled lovingly back. He tilted his head slightly to the side and gave her a wink.
That night she was in his arms, a night she would never forget.
He had loved her and her, him. Yet the years have not been kind for she had lost him, lost him to another woman even though it was a few months after they broke up but even a few months, was a few months to soon. It hurt her deeply the wound of emotions wasn’t one and was left to fester, so it never healed.
She had never gotten over him. That loss was too great, and over the years both hurt and love were felt in equal measure, for she had never stopped loving him.
Her thoughts were disturbed by the sound of a light aircraft flying overhead. She sighed. She looked at the pink envelope. Locked inside, like a time capsule, whatever he had written, whatever sentiments that were put to paper, lay on the table. She remained hesitant, somewhat reluctant to open it. Picking it up rather swiftly she ran upstairs,
into her bedroom and pulled out a drawer, threw the card in, shuffling the stubborn drawer closed.
Over the next few days she busied herself with work and some household DIY jobs. She had all but forgotten about it, until she started to clean her room. She was tidying up the chest of drawers and when she pulled out the bottom drawer there it was!
She sent back on the bed, staring back at the pink envelope which was on top of some bed linen. For a few moments she sat reflected on the card and times past, time she would never forget.
The summer lazy days spent in Woodbridge, the brook and stream where they use to throw pebbles in, the mountain walk they took over Ashbrook Dales. Just memories now, but what wonderful happy, yet also sad memories, for they would never occur again. She reached out and took the envelope holding it tightly in her hands. Deciding to open it, was a great task, did she want to know or didn’t she?! The hurts of the past still haunted her, yet she still loved him so very much. It took so much out of her that it still affected her, yet she never understood why she still loved him so very deeply. She had lived with the silence of her pain all these years and now; here was something else to remind her of what had used to be.
It was difficult for her to know how to feel. Once again, she was holding the card in her hand, staring at her name and address, running her fingers over the ink impressions left by the pen he had used to write it with. Turning the envelope around she placed her thumb under the small gap at the corner, taking a deep breath, she moved her fingers under and proceeded to tear it open. Her heart seemed to beat faster and a lump formed in her throat as she extracted the contents.
She closed her eyes for a few minutes and held the card against her chest. Not seeing it, but feeling the memories flood back. She could feel her eyes welling up, one tear escaped and ran down her cheek unchecked.
Opening her eyes she looked down towards the card and saw a lovely picture of a small bear holding a heart shaped balloon and a present box tucked under its arm, standing at a hall door waiting for it to be opened. The heading read, ‘Happy Birthday to My Special Girlfriend with Love.’
As she opened the card, its contents fell onto her lap. A festoon of confetti shaped red hearts, words that read ‘Happy Birthday’ and ‘Love’ covered legs and some on the carpet.
The verse read, ‘Love you always, always from the bottom of my heart!’ ‘Happy Birthday to my Special Girlfriend’ and he had written below that ‘Laura, beautiful and kind, I am so very lucky you are my girl. Have a great day and remember to have lots of fun. With love and special kisses from me to you, Kedric,’ and signed off with a lot of kisses and a heart he had drawn.
She looked up, as a flood of tears began in earnest, his words had hit home! Throwing herself on the bed, she cried, holding onto the card in her hand. The past had come back into the present.
Later the next day she thought about Kendric. How everyday he had come into her thoughts. During her tidying of her room, she came across a diary address book. His address was in there along with his phone number, his phone number which she had removed from her phone some years ago, she had thought she had removed all traces of him but here it all was right in front of her. For some crazy idea, she thought she would try it. Just to see if actually worked. Perhaps he had changed his phone number, moved away, and got married... Laura took courage into her own hands, and rang his number for the first time in years...
‘Hello!’
The deep rich tones were unmistakable. It was him!!
‘Hello?!’ he repeated.
Laura took a breath, all the while her heart was pounding and her mind questioning her actions rigorously.
‘Hi!’ she forced a response. It was spoken in a deep breath and an air lump that was issued with it.
Silence came down the line, yet she could hear his breathing.
...’Laura?!’ He asked in a quizzical voice.
‘Yes’
‘Oh my God Laura!’ He gasped. ‘Thank God, Thank God you rang me!’ he spoke with a breathy sigh of relief. ‘At last.’ He then repeated ‘Oh my God!
He sounded like he was trying to compose himself after the shock of her voice on the other end of the line. Then his next words, shocked and surprised Laura
‘I have been trying to get in contact with you all these years. I sent you emails, I even posted a letter. I heard nothing back. I tried calling you your old phone, I left text messages. I tried calling your landline and mobile number but obviously you change them or moved away,’ he paused and continued, ‘I had just given up hope and here two days later you call me! I cannot believe this I'm just so grateful that you called me so thankful I never stopped loving you all this time...’
...’ What... what?! I don't understand ... She tried to speak but the words would not come they were lost in her emotions her world with suddenly topsy turvy.
He broke in, ‘I understand how you must be feeling I am sorry I put you through everything but let me explain in short and as best I can.’
He was met with silence down the line. as Laura felt the turbulence of her emotions, a sense of confusion mixed with relief too! Relief?! Why so? She didn’t know but she was not about to tell him, not now anyways.
...He added, ‘Let’s meet up’...
Laura gave her answer.
Two days later, at a lunchtime café and over a cup of coffee, he spoke frankly and honestly to her. ‘I was foolish back then. I was angry. I was hurt and I wanted to hurt you too. I have never married and that girl, well she never meant a thing to me, you see, I have never stopped loving you despite what had happened. You were always constantly there and supporting me and yet I still wanted to hurt you. I was foolish in hurting us both. I doubt that you would ever forgive me; I have never and will never forgive myself for what I did and said. I know broken hearts are not easily mended but ...this is a long shot and I am hoping what I am about to say will be taken and thought about ...considered, if you will It will be your decision, up to you...’
’I want us to begin again, right from the start, start a new friendship, build up trust again, work new foundations. I want you back in my life. I have always loved you; I have never stopped loving you. You were, are the only girl for me. The only one I have ever wanted...’
He leaned forward and looked at her intently...’I love you’
Laura looked down, took a deep breath, and then back up to him, this time she smiled...
--
Masquerade
Lady Isabella Beaufort walked down the steps to the great hall. She was accompanied by other ladies and courtiers of the Queen. She wore a gown of black damask and a simple yet ornate headdress, a symbol of her status as lady in waiting to the Queen.
Silence befell the room and people of the court bowed in reverence to her majesty. Isabella was new to
being a lady in waiting and even more so new to court. It had been the strangest experience so far and more often than not she was in awe of what was around her.
The only thing that had taken her aback was the much unnecessary interest that seemed to be shown to her by a few courtiers. She had overheard their flattering remarks and sharp intakes of breath. Still she
could not understand what all the fuss was.
She had lived miles away from all this grandeur and was quite content with the solace of country life and her station. She had not involved herself with any man nor had she wanted too.
The corner in her life turned, when her father had come home with news to his family that he had been elevated to the Kings court and that an introduction was made on Isabella's behalf for to be lady in waiting to the Queen. It had initially shocked her. She wasn't one for pomp and ceremony. She had heard of what life was like behind the closed doors of the Kings court and was all the more wary of what might lie ahead for her.
Now she was here and right in the middle of a ceremony. It was her first time to attend such a function and 'be ‘shown off’' to all the nobility and courtiers that wer
e present.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see the looks she was receiving and she couldn't imagine why she would be at the receiving end of such adoration. She ignored it all.
Ahead was the Queen and her duty which was of the utmost importance.. She had not met the King before, and hoped to heaven that things would go well and she would try to be careful not to let her foot snag on the hem of her dress.
The Queen took her place at the head of a large table ladened with varieties of sumptuous foods and fruits.
The King was already seated. He turned to his wife and kissed her hand. She in turn smiled at him.
Isabella took it in turn to courtesy before their majesties. She kept telling herself, 'watch the hem', 'watch the hem!'
She curtsied and looked up slowly. Her gaze went from her majesty to the King, who looked back at her and nodded. But one thing caught her; his gaze followed her as she took her place to the left of the table. Where she was to stand and be at the attention of the Queen. She felt eyes bore into her.
And a few minutes after, while the music played some galliard, he turned his head to look at her briefly.
He said nothing, it was just a look. Isabella stood stationary, only her eyes moved across the sea of people and swaths of great colourful cloths of majestic emblems. Right now all she wished for was for the night’s festivities to draw to a close.
Gathering together in the draw of the music, some people danced others just stood with drinking vessels and drank with decorum in their majesties presence,
Light virelai music played, which the King’s cousin had sent him in a birthday gift. She heard the sound of chairs being dragged back on the wooden floor and low murmurings of ‘Your Majesty!’
Isabella turned her head slightly to the left and found she was met with the King, heading in her direction. She immediately dropped to a curtsey and uttered ‘Your majesty,’ as he took her hand where he brought her to the centre of the room. She could hear the low mutter of chattering and wagging tongues coupled with the odd gasp of surprise.
Nervousness overtook Isabella, which she tried to control with deep intakes of breath. The King opened up the floor, the people of the court bowed as they moved back, allowing for more space.
With a single clap of the king’s hands, the music began again. The King constantly looked into her eyes. People say that the King is a most attractive and handsomest of men, but as Isabella held his gaze, she thought the opposite. He was not a man blessed with great beauty or the steeliness and grace of a panther, but rather he was man in his middle years, bloated, copper haired, yet his striking pupils, light grey with an outer black circle, were quite beautiful. He had a large waist and a stocky build. He was not tall, many other men towered over him, yet in his bulkiness, he moved with lightness, and some fluidity that defied his age and condition.
Isabella followed him in the dance as best she could. The court stood in merry jest clapping and cheering his majesty. There was a single pause, after the music had concluded, then a bow and curtsey, the rushing of the heart breath against her corset stays and the momentary giddiness she had, did not help her in her duties to the Queen. His majesty returned her to where he had found her, and sat back beside her majesty, in his ornate chair.
Still catching her breath, she gazed out across the room, and she could see a lot of eyes setting upon her, with small ear to ear conversations and a few sparing smiles, others...a certain sense of disdain. The King let out a loud bellow and the room fell silent. He stood up, his cup in hand, raising it above his head.
‘To our country, to this day,’ he acknowledged the left and right side of the room! The court let out a loud cheer, and someone shouted ‘Hip hip...Hooray for his majesty!’ and the court followed his lead. The king raised his cup in salute to them, took a sip and then turned to Isabella, raised his cup again, bowed his head gently, and drank from the cup,
Now Isabella was feeling a little more perturbed, and as if the Queen sensed her discomfort, she moved from her chair and signalled to her ladies in waiting to assist. Isabella, took a few steps to stand behind the Queen, curtsey to the King, and with that exited the court.
As the last duty of the night was performed and the Queen retired to her bedchamber, Isabella stood at the window of her room that overlooked the courtyard. Deep in thought about the happenings of what she had witnessed and partook of. She could not muster in her mind of what must be running through the Kings mind to ask her to a dance pairing in the midst of the court. She knew what a sorry place it could be, from the stories she had heard and in no uncertain terms would she let it get to her.
In another part of the palace, a man was preparing for his own retirement. The evening’s events lay fresh in his mind. He looked at his reflection in the mirror that his young vassal held. The dark eyes that looked back at him bore signs of fatigue and anguish, but carried hope too, hope of seeing her again. A smile curved his lips as his other vassal removed his outer frock bed coat and with that he climbed into the hot pan warmed bed.
Her light had not left his thoughts, neither had her smile. She had gained attention of the King, and a lot of the other courtiers, but he would make it his duty that he would see her tomorrow before the hour of two in the day. His vassal left, as he laid his head on the crisp cold clothed headrest.
-
In the morrow after the feast, Isabella had risen at half past the hour of three, dawn had not arrived nor had the hours of daylight. Preparing the Queens garments for the day ahead and set about the Queens daily toilet. The Queen would rise soon, so everything must be in order.
Isabella again took her place behind the Queen as they made their way to the inner chapel for morning vespers. The Queen dressed in black silks and damask, moved into the inner sanctum alone. All the ladies in waiting sat or knelt in the outer chapel for prayers. An approaching collection of footsteps echoed as they neared the outer chapel. It was the King, along with his Lords and vassals, following close behind.
She was there! He looked towards her direction; saw her bow reverently.
As she stood back up, her gaze wandered and suddenly found his. They had met Danton’s eyes and not the kings, this time, and with a bold strike; he let in a sharp intake of breath as smile reached his lips.
His smile was returned with a gesture of a very slight nod of her head.
But for Isabella, this was a mild distraction. ‘Who was that man?’ she thought. He looked like all of the courtiers here to her, but with one distinction, his clothes did not speak of great wealth, just more simplistic then others she had seen. Perhaps he was the king’s vassal?! But he was not dressed as one!
Later that day, Isabella was walking with Lady Marguerite in the garden during a respite from duties...
‘Excuse me Madam...Lady Beaufort’...
Isabella turned to see whom it was that called her name. Before her stood the gentleman she had encountered earlier, escorting the King through the church.
He removed his hat as he bowed, and both Isabella and Marguerite curtseyed together.
...’I saw you earlier in the church...and I never seen such ...such an angelic face. So serene and full of gentleness. I had not nor have I ever beheld such a vision of beauty before’...
Lady Marguerite giggled, begged her forgiveness to depart and duly left Isabella alone with this man, whose utterances had left Isabella rather bemused, embarrassed and perturbed.
Seeing anxiousness growing in her eyes, he continued, ’ M’Lady, I do not mean to offend or upset you by any means,’ he paused and then continued; ‘I beg your forgiveness for my forward behaviour’...
Before he could conclude Isabella interrupted him ... ‘Sir, you know my name, yet I know yours not!’
‘Forgive me, M’Lady, I am Danton, Lord Robert Danton of Leffonbridge. Then he smiled again. ‘It was lovely meeting with you on this day of all days, and one I shall not forget easily!’
Isabella was taken with her meetin
g with Robert Danton and found her thoughts quite distracted over the next few days. She was finding his company quite pleasant.
He took her hand in his to escort her down the grey stone steps which led out onto maze hedges and flower filled gardens.
He let go of her hand.
She was grateful; she needed her dignity to be preserved, especially in the public eye. She may be lady in waiting to the Queen, she had to be mindful at all times even when off duty.
‘I must say it is a fine day ‘he broke the silence ‘I would say though autumn is near in the next weeks.’
Isabella tapped the grass with her shoe, and looked up at him, wondering why he talked about the weather and seasons.
He suddenly reached inside the waistcoat of his vest and extracted a piece of paper which he promptly unravelled. Looking up to Isabella, he took a deep breath and began to read,
‘Myne eyes doth see
luvly dreems
of thee
Rose o fayre
with luvly long hayre.’
Times Hearts Page 1