REMEMBRANCE

by Nicole Maddison

  “Please, Miss, open the door!” Bella pleaded through the other side of the wood.

  Maria spun round as the doorknob started to rattle.

  “Miss, you have to eat something.”

  Maria heard another voice talking to Bella; she leant against the panels and placed her ear against them to listen.

  “I’m sorry, Sir John, she hasn’t opened the door for several days now. I am worried, Sir, she needs to eat something.”

  “Thank you Bella, I will take it from here.”

  She heard footsteps move away from the room, when suddenly, the loud banging against the door made her jump back sharply.

  “Maria you open this door NOW!” Sir John bellowed.

  She stayed silent.

  “Miss Austin, do you hear me? This simply will not do. I will not tolerate such behaviour after all I have done for you! Open this door now!”

  Although his words appeared stern and angry, she could hear the alarm in his voice; he sounded worried. Her hand reached out towards the brass knob, and she was just about to turn the small key in its centre, when she heard another voice that joined Sir John’s. They talked quietly as they moved away, down the landing.

  The key turned with a click and she pulled the door slightly ajar, so that she could peer into the corridor. When she was certain that no one was around, she slipped from the room.

  So it wasn’t a dream, she smiled. There had to be a reason for all of this. Thus, with the knowledge she now possessed, she could try to sort it out. I must see Tom, she thought as she stepped out onto the landing.

  Suddenly, as if she had been hit by a bolt of lightning, she was thrown backwards into the room. She lay sprawled across the oak floor, her body convulsing as images flashed through her head, as if she was flicking quickly through a book, and everything she had known regarding her previous life was wiped from her mind. An incredible sensation of emotions flooded into her body. She was suddenly engulfed with an overwhelming feeling of loss that crushed down on her very being. It was so strong that she cried out in her torment.

  “Sir John, Sir John,” people were crying, they sounded all muffled and their faces were all hazy.

  “Call the physician.”

  She felt as if her body was floating. This must be death, she thought, just before everything went black.

  When she finally opened her eyes again, she had to squint against the brightness that was making them sting. She lifted an aching hand to ease the throb in her head.

  “Ah, you’re awake. You gave us all a nasty scare there for a while.” Sir John’s voice was gentle with concern.

  Maria tried to lift herself up, but her body felt heavy.

  “Here, let me help you dear,” Sir John offered, coming to aid her by arranging the pillows behind her back.

  “What happened?” she asked him; she couldn’t remember anything.

  “Exhaustion, according to Dr Mackleston. He said that you are to rest today. Bella will be in shortly with some broth.”

  She managed a weak smile of thanks just as Bella entered.

  “Be off with you now, Sir John. I will take care of her,” she said to him soothingly.

  Bella sat on the side of her bed and started to spoon-feed the warm watery broth into her mouth.

  “I told them, but no, they would not listen. They should have broken down the door, that’s what I said,” she gave Maria a black-toothed smile. “I told them that no one can go that long without eating something.”

  She wiped Maria’s dry lips with the napkin when she had finished.

  “Gave them all a nasty scare, you did. Sir John was beside himself with worry.”

  Bella rose from the bed and, slipping the small key from the door into her apron pocket, she said, “Just so that you don’t go locking yourself in again.” She smiled kindly, “Ring the bell, Miss, if you need anything.” With that, she left the room.

  Maria slept on and off for most of the day. Her dreams turned into nightmares and she woke several times to find herself crying. She had an incredible ache in her heart every time she thought of Tom. She vaguely remembered the circumstances surrounding her illness, but everything was a little hazy. She just knew that she had lost Tom forever and that the realisation that she would never see him again was crushing her will to live.

  “I’m sorry Miss,” Bella said one afternoon as she fluffed the pillows behind Maria’s head.

  Maria looked at her confused, “What have you got to be sorry about, it’s not you that put me here. That was my own doing.”

  Bella moved away slightly and fidgeted with the objects on the small bedside table. There was a pained expression on her face that Maria found unsettling. “What is it Bella?” she asked, placing a hand on her arm before she could move away.

  Bella couldn’t even look at her.

  “Bella?”

  “I am so…so sorry Miss.”

  Maria grew anxious, “Please Bella, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  “That’s just it Miss,” Bella looked up, “I don’t know if I should.”

  Even in her exhausted state, Maria felt the frustration growing inside her. It was just her luck that she would be flaunted with a tit bit of information and then never get to hear the rest. She sighed, trying to contain her impatience in that one long exhaled breath. Bella hovered, reluctant to leave, the look of indecision on her face.

  “Oh blow,” she finally said and came to sit on the side of the bed. “I am only going to tell you because I think that you have a right to know,” she said quietly. “You had a letter.”

  “A letter?”

  “From Mr Bradley. His man servant delivered it this morning…I’m so sorry Miss.”

  “What…what Bella? What did it say?”

  “That’s the point Miss. I don’t know. I had it in my hand and was going to bring it to you straight away, but your uncle happened upon me at the door. He was so angry Miss, as he recognised the seal straight away. He didn’t even open it Miss, he just threw it straight into the fire.”

  Maria looked away. She wished she hadn’t known that Tom was trying to contact her, for it only added to the pain she already felt. “It probably only told me what I already knew,” she whispered. “It is of no consequence; it is for the best.”

  “I’m so sorry, Miss.”

  “No Bella, don’t be. We will talk of it no more.”

  *****

  Thomas leaned back against the oak’s trunk. It had grown dark, the sky was littered with tiny stars and a half moon reflected against the surface of the pool. He pulled his coat closer to him to ward off the chill that hung in the air.

  She wasn’t coming! Although, deep down he knew that she wouldn’t, he still let himself hold on to the glimmer of hope that she might. He needed to see her; she was like a toxin under his skin, his fix—like a strong glass of brandy. He wanted—no, needed—to explain, to tell her how he felt that it was all a misunderstanding. He wanted to tell her that he was in love with her, not Miss Cartland.

  He kicked himself away from the tree and stood on the pool’s bank. It brought him no peace standing here—in a place that held so many memoires, where images of all the times they had been here together invaded his thoughts. He bent to pick up a stone and skimmed it across the water. He had come here every night for the past week, telling himself that, here, in their place, he would be able to think—away from the accusations of his mother and the scrutiny of the servants. Yet, he knew that the real reason for his repeated visits was that he hoped that she would come and he would be able to catch sight of her.

  Now he knew that she wasn’t coming and probably never would again, for it would be too painful. Angry and disappointed, he skimmed another stone across the water. He had been here almost three hours with no sign of her. He had sent a message this very morning, asking her to meet him here. Had he really thought that she would come after the atrocious way he had behaved towards her? Still, he didn’t regret one moment of their time by the strea
m. That experience had opened his eyes and helped him realise that he wanted Maria more than life itself.

  He had spent the time here going through so many reasons for her not meeting him. There was a possibility that the letter still sat on her dresser, unopened, even though he had to admit that it could be that she had read it and refused to come. There was an option that she had read it and was now laughing at him from a distance. Yet, he still tried to believe that she had never received his letter and was unaware that he would be waiting for her here. It didn’t really matter why she did not come; she wasn’t here and he missed her terribly.

  He stubbed the toe of his boot into the dusty soil in frustration, thinking how Dudley would get his kicks out of this for months, with an ‘I told you so’ expression. Good old Dudley, if he hadn’t had to return to London, all of this might have been avoided. He would have seen it coming. Tom, on the other hand, lost sight of everything else whenever he was in a two-foot radius of Maria. Dudley would have prevented the situation from escalating to these disastrous proportions. He sighed deeply; it was no good thinking of maybes, he had no one to blame but himself. He now realised that everything that had happened was his fault, for if he had kept his wits about him, he would have been able to see through Miss Cartland’s plan.

  Ah, Miss Cartland! What was he to make of her? He should have paid heed to what the gossips had said instead of laughing it off. He believed himself to be safe from fortune hunters. How wrong he had been! Maybe it was time he paid his friend a visit; he sure as hell didn’t hold any expectations where M was concerned. Yes, a few days in London might just be what he needed. Not only would he be away from his mother and her accusations, it would give him some time to reflect and think about what to do next.

  *****

  It was the next morning when Maria raised herself from the damp sheets of the bed and slowly got dressed. Running the brush through her hair, she noted with disinterest that the soft curls had tangled from her heat. The urge to escape the stuffy confines of her room and to be outside in the fresh air called to her. She made her way downstairs. The house was silent; it was still very early and most of the servants were still in their beds. She let herself out into the garden, where she dropped to the dew-covered grass. The orange glow above the trees gave the promise of a warm day and the strong scent of Jasmine penetrated the coolness of the air, while the birds sang their morning chorus.

  Every part of her body ached. Her limbs were practically void of all feeling and she felt… so, so tired. She sat there upon the damp earth looking out over the willowy grass plain, wishing that she could find the energy to walk to the Crystal Pool, with its all familiar oak tree that Tom and she had loved so much as children. She was oblivious to her tears, until she finally felt them on the smooth skin of her hand.

  How was she to bear this confinement, when all her life she had been free to run wild with her best friend? How was she to bear this separation, knowing now that her love was too strong even for her to comprehend? As each second passed, she could feel another part of her die away.

  * * * * *

  It had been several weeks since that fateful day and she had spent her time idly roaming the grounds of the Manor. On rainy days, she would go to the drawing room, where she played sorrowful melodies on her harp. On one such a day, Sir John came to talk to her.

  “Maria, Maria?” His voice sounded urgent as he entered the room, waving some paper, “Maria, here you are!”

  “What is it Uncle?” she enquired tonelessly.

  He rushed over to where she sat, all red faced and still waving his piece of paper. “Oh my dear… it is an invitation.”

  “Invitation?”

  “Yes, there is to be a ball, at the Nedgely Inn! Is that not grand news?”

  He patted her hand eagerly; his grinning fat lips making him look chubbier in the face than he really was.

  She gave him a weak smile and responded flatly, “Well, that’s nice, Uncle. It has been a long time since you ventured out into society.” With that, she turned back to the harp and continued to play.

  Sir John looked shocked at her response. “I do not think that you understand me correctly, dear.”

  “Oh, I understand you completely, Uncle. You are to go to a ball,” she replied without even looking up.

  His face was getting redder by the second. “Apparently, you do not,” his voice started to rise. “WE are going to the Nedgely Inn ball.”

  Her hand stopped mid-note and she raised her dull eyes to his face, “Pray Uncle, forgive me, but I really do not feel the need to socialise at present.”

  “Unfortunately, I have already given our acceptance. So there will be none of this, ‘pray forgive me Uncle’ nonsense,” he told her sternly.

  She opened her mouth to speak.

  He raised his hand. “I will not hear anymore about it. You will go; it is expected of you, and that is final.”

  He looked down at the sadness on the face. He understood her reaction, but he also knew that she needed to be out in society again. Not only it was expected of her, but he also hoped that the preparations for the ball and the outing would ease this melancholy mood of hers. More importantly, she could not be seen to be unfit in any way, if his ‘capital’ was to pay off, as were his intentions all along.

  “It will do you good, dear,” he added, as he patted her hand again, before leaving the room.

  She sat motionless upon the little stool. How was she to bear it if Tom was to be at the ball with Miss Cartland? How was she to face the pair of them? How would she cope with being scrutinised by her neighbours and the local society? She buried her face in her hands. “How shall I bear it?” she whispered.

  She sat there long after her uncle had left, oblivious to the now silent harp’s strings, her thoughts elsewhere. The room suddenly held no appeal. Rising from the stool, she was about to leave, when her eyes settled on a painting on the far wall. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen the picture before, it had sat in the same place for as long as she could remember, but the oddity of it was she felt as if there should be another image there instead of the one portraying hunting dogs.

  * * * * *

  Bella was dressing the curls of her hair with tiny blue jewels that matched the dark blue of Maria’s silk gown. Her skin provided a stark pale contrast to its colour.

  “Oh Miss, you must not let this get you down. There are plenty of willing admirers that seek your affections.” Bella was aware of her mistress’s misery.

  Sir John, as much as he would have liked, could not stop the gossiping tongues of his staff. They were all aware of the events that took place on the day of the picnic, for they had discussed it at length in the kitchens. Bella’s heart went out to Maria, for she believed that her mistress would make a far better lady of Nedgely than Mr Bradley’s chosen one.

  Maria knew that Bella meant well, but her heart was truly not in it. She so very much wanted to stay at home. Even though she felt that it would probably the best for her to stay hidden away in her room, she couldn’t quite help that, for the first time in a number of weeks, she suddenly felt a little excited at the prospect of seeing Tom again. However, just over a week ago, she had thought that, if they could not be together, she would not be able to bear ever seeing him again.

  “There Miss, all done,” Bella stood back to admire her handiwork.

  “Thank you, Bella,” was all she could muster, as she stared at the pale image in the mirror.

  The streets of Nedgely town were bustling with coaches carrying ladies and gentlemen dressed in their finery on the way to the halls of the Nedgely Inn.

  Maria sat in the safety of her coach, looking out at the eagerness of the people, listening to their laughter that filled the night air. It had been a long time since a village ball had been held, and it was the grandest of occasions that brought together the local gentry.

  Upon entering the finery of the hall, she was swept along by the crowds. Losing sight of her uncle, she came to find
herself standing alone at the edge of the dance floor, watching ladies and gentlemen coupling with the music, their faces alight with happiness as they enjoyed the dance.

  Although she tried not to, she found herself looking for Tom, her eyes scanning the room at the groups of people engaged in their conversations. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed that he was nowhere to be seen. Even though she knew most people here, no one held her interest. She stood alone, not in the mood for making polite small talk appropriate for such gatherings. She was just about to leave the dance area when the unmistakable tones of Alfred Grainger’s voice reached her ears.

  “Why, Miss Austin, what a pleasure it is to see you again!”

  “Mr Grainger,” she replied, turning to face him, a little embarrassed.

  “It is good to see you in good health; I have heard that you have not been well.”

  She smiled at his kindness, “I am quite recovered, thank you.”

  If she had been worried that he had taken offence at her actions on the day of the picnic, she was quite mistaken. He engaged her in his usual light-hearted chitchat and was quite happy to enlighten her in all the local gossip. It also came as no surprise when he asked her to take a turn on the floor with him.

  “You did promise, remember, when we dined at Nedgely Hall.”

  “Of course I remember,” she smiled.

  She was glad of the diversion that the dance brought; and found that he even enjoyed being weaved in and out of the other people that also took the floor. Feeling herself relax, she started to enjoy the light exercise. When the dance had finished, Mr Grainger engaged her for the next one almost immediately.

  She was laughing at some remark he had just made, as they passed each other and had just begun to turn and receive the person to her left, when she suddenly came face to face with Tom.