The sound of her voice brought him back to the present. “I uh…yes, madam. That is, I have one married friend. I am but five and twenty so many of my friends are still bachelors.”
“Why is that I wonder? I mean, I am twenty-two and am close to being considered an old maid. My dear friend Laura, who is the same age as I, recently wed a Mr. Kelly, a man of forty-five! It rather unnerves me that he could be her father. Why is it alright for men to wait and not for women?”
William considered her question for a moment. “I don’t believe I’ve ever really thought about that. I suppose it has something to do with children. The younger a woman is when she marries, the greater chance she has of having many children, especially male children.”
“Yes, of course. Males are important. What is a woman after all but a means of bringing them into the world?” There was bitterness in her voice. It surprised her a little.
William sighed loudly, but his tone was kind. “What you must understand, Miss De vale is that many men have trades to support their families. A male heir means that the living can pass on to the next generation; it all but guarantees for a man that his family will be provided for should he die. You cannot begin to comprehend what a relief that is for him.”
“It is not as if a woman would not do the work of her father though. One has already assumed she is incapable.”
“You have proven yourself more than capable, Miss De vale. Every day it seems you have mastered a new skill. I find it inspiring. Indeed you…” William stopped himself.
“Pray continue, sir,” said Louisa quickly. He had spoken to her with such feeling. She did not want him to stop.
William’s smile was restrained. “It is nothing,” he said lightly.
“And you have ceased calling me Louisa, sir!” she countered. “Have I offended you?”
“No indeed. I thought it was I who had offended you.” He cleared his throat. “Did I?” He tipped his head purposefully to better see into her eyes. It was as though he desperately needed to know she still approved of him.
“You did not,” she said honestly. In truth the conversation had unnerved her a little but she could claim no real feelings of insult. She had never shared her opinions with anyone other than her father. If Louisa was honest with herself, she would admit that she was concerned that she had gone too far with William. She did not wish to lose his good opinion. Thinking it best to change the subject she said “Tell me about your friend who is married then, is he happy?”
William appeared momentarily confused, but obliged her. “He is, very much so. He and his wife played together as children. They are friends as well as man and wife.”
“How lovely for them both.”
William nodded and then gave her a questioning look. “I must say, I am surprised at your interest in marriage. Your father has told me of your resolve to never marry.”
Louisa went white at his words. She looked away from him to stare into the fire. “Never is a very long time.” She paused and exhaled slowly. “While I do not wish to be under the control of a man, I could be persuaded to marry by one whom I loved and who would consider me an equal,” she said quietly.
“You could?” he said quickly. “I think that wise. Indeed, never is quite permanent.” William wore a half-smile and Louisa longed to know what he found so amusing. He leaned forward to pick up her hand and place it in his. She could hear her pulse loud in her ears…almost deafening. “I must tell you how much I enjoy your company, Louisa. Indeed, I prefer it to anyone else’s.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. His lips lingered there for a moment until the clock began to chime.
She began to say thank you, but he rose from his chair and left the room.
What just happened, Louisa could not say. The exchange, however, seemed to be far from what occurs between a brother and his sister.
CHAPTER 22
William
It was the striking of the clock that made him stop. As soon as he left her, he knew he had to get outside. Stalking through the kitchen and out the back door he stopped again to gather his thoughts. The taste of her skin had been sweet indeed, but to sit there any longer and pretend he did not want more was preposterous.
It was enough now, no more.
William burst through the back door and was greeted by the rare assault of sunlight on his weary eyes. He really must seek out living quarters elsewhere. In truth, he knew that he could ask any family in the village for accommodations and he would not be turned away. The problem was she would not be there.
Pacing in the back garden, William felt the wind cut him where he stood. It seemed to sweep up his jacket and overcome his warmth with its chill. He winced at the sensation and at the thought that it was no less than he deserved. He heard a rustling coming from around the side of the house and decided to follow the sound. It was Edward. He was holding an axe.
“Good day to you, sir.” Edward bowed at William’s approach. “I was just about to cut some wood for the hearths. Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Mara?”
“Not at all Edward, I…that is…May I assist you?” he asked. Edward observed him strangely, speechless. William understood that his request was unusual, but if he did not do something to quell his nerves soon he would surely go mad.
“Of course you may, sir, if you wish to.” Edward handed William the axe he was carrying and told him he would go back to the house to fetch another.
Off to the side of the cottage, just before a small copse of trees there was a pile of logs underneath a large piece of thick black cloth. He picked up several and brought them to the wood block. Setting down the axe he removed his topcoat, followed by his dark brown vest and finally his ever-constraining white cravat. He brought his shoulders back and pushed out his chest.
He felt freer already.
William picked up a log and placed it on the block, balancing it with one finger. He picked up the axe and raised it above his head, ready to strike. With teeth gritted and all the force his body could muster, he brought the blade down hard in one fluid motion, splitting the log in two.
He heard footsteps behind him. “Looks like rain, sir.” Edward went to the wood pile and added casually, “I do hope Miss Louisa isn’t caught in a storm.”
“I beg your pardon, Edward? Has Miss Louisa gone out?”
Edward eyed him queerly, as if William should know already. “Yes, sir…gone to the village.”
William saw a dark cloud moving across the sea towards their port. When it arrived, he would seek her out. He knew he should send Edward, but he could not.
He hoped by then she would have returned. It was uncertain how much longer he could keep secret the feelings he had for her.
Indeed, it could not be long.
Louisa
Louisa decided she needed some air. It had been nearly a week since she had walked into the village. In London she would not dare to venture outdoors unescorted, but here on the island things were different.
She noticed a wild dog following her at her side, but at a distance. As she walked the beaten path, the dog kept pace with her walking through the woods to her left. She did not feel threatened. It was as if he stayed with her to protect her, to ensure she arrived at her destination safely. Louisa looked over at the dog and mouthed “Thank you”. He seemed to acknowledge her briefly.
She was in awe of the majestic animal, with his tall and lanky frame and brown matted fur. She imagined he hunted deer and other large animals. She could see him stalking the forest with his pack. Where was his pack? He was a warrior and yet his presence and demeanour clearly spoke of protection.
Reaching the clearing that led to the village, she looked over her shoulder and saw he had stopped and was sitting, waiting for her to continue. Louisa waved good-bye and walked quickly towards the village market.
The market consisted of three stalls. One sold bread, cheese and eggs. The second had cured ham, fish and some freshly slaughtered lamb. And the last stall sold r
oot vegetables and a few spices. She bought a leg of lamb, some pepper and onions and then a few loaves of bread. She and Janey planned to make a stew for dinner. Though Janey would prefer to make the stew herself, she was kind enough to indulge Louisa’s desire to learn to cook. There were many skills she wished to learn. She wanted to return to London a different woman than the one who left it.
Louisa’s perpetual habits of reading and quiet contemplation were no longer serving her in Tobermory. Try as she might, she could not banish the thought of William Mara. There was something that seemed to set him apart from any other man of her acquaintance. He seemed to be able to see her. It was as if being in his presence meant she never had to explain herself, he would always understand. Louisa found herself longing to be close to him.
She decided it was time to quiet her mind and listen to her inner guide. Walking towards the shore she breathed in the sea air deeply. How clean and fresh it was compared to London. Louisa found a rock to sit on and look out at the sea. She closed her eyes and put her hand on her heart.
Be honest is what she heard. Hide nothing and trust him came shortly after.
She stayed a while longer just looking out across the water. The waves were rough; they rose and fell with a vengeance. She felt the spray of water on her face. Thinking it was from the ocean, she made no move to leave. Soon though, it was clear it was beginning to rain. The wind picked up and the sky burst open. Collecting her things, she got up and ran toward the nearest shelter. As if on instinct, she changed her mind quickly and made her way back to the cottage. She ran as she had never run before, with purpose and propelled by fate.
She could barely see a thing as she moved. Looking to her right she saw her faithful companion running at her side. His presence both amused and concerned her. Through the driving rain she did not see the fallen branch in her path until it was too late. She tripped and fell, crashing to the ground in a heap.
The dog ran to her in an instant. Licking her face and nudging her body, he inspected her. He lifted his head as he heard footsteps coming quickly toward them.
William
William and Edward were running and spotted Louisa on the ground. “Louisa!” William cried out. The dog moved toward them with a growl and flared his teeth.
“The dog is wild, Mr. Mara! You shall have to stay back. I will run back and get my gun,” yelled Edward turning back toward the cottage. William didn’t know what to think or do. It was clear Louisa was hurt. He wanted nothing more than to gather her up in his arms and carry her home, but the dog was clearly untamed and capable of ripping him to shreds. Without thinking he dropped to his knees on the ground.
His breathing was heavy from the run and from the sight before him. How badly was she hurt? Had the dog attacked her? He could not assess her injuries from this distance and the rain blurred his vision in any case.
The dog eased his stance and began to pace. He then slowly approached William who dared not move a muscle. Sniffing the man and deciding he posed no threat, the animal wagged its tail and rushed back to Louisa. William got up slowly and made his way toward her. He saw no blood on her though her ankle was clearly bent. She was covered in mud. He said a silent prayer of thanks that she still breathed, although she did not appear to be conscious.
He scooped her up and ran back to the house, the wild dog leading the way. He sailed past Edward who was holding his gun.
“Leave him!” shouted William. Edward obeyed and followed him into the cottage calling for Janey. William carried her to a room just off to the side of the kitchen. There was a small cot and a table there. He placed her gently on the bed and knelt at her side. Janey was there almost instantly with hot water and rags.
“Leave her to me, sir; she will be well,” said Janey calmly. William did not move. He only stared at Louisa, almost willing her to awaken. “Please, Mr. Mara, her father is upstairs resting. You must go to him and tell him what has happened. He will want to see her,” she pleaded.
William rushed out of the room and climbed the stairs to Sir Thomas’ chambers. He knew she would be ok as long as it was just her ankle that was injured, but who could be certain? They needed a doctor. Before reaching the older man’s room, he called for Edward and sent him out to the village to look for help. There was no doctor, but there was a midwife who served as the village’s apothecary. She would have to do for now.
CHAPTER 23
Ellie
I awake suddenly not knowing where I am for a moment. It is obviously late morning because the sun is already high in the sky. I look down beside me to see Declan sleeping peacefully and I smile in recollection. Of course, how could I forget? I am with Declan. We talked about scraped knees, bush parties and past life visions until our eyes refused to stay open. I shared with him my pseudo-psychic gift, but I didn’t mention his role in everything. I haven’t yet found the courage.
Today is a new day. In my pale yellow tank-top and underwear, I do a silent celebration that they match and my legs are shaved.
I look over at Declan. Gorgeous stubble peppers his jaw. I reach out and feel it with my fingertips.
“Good morning.” His voice is low and scratchy. He pulls me to him and kisses my forehead lightly.
“Hi,” I say, shyly. “I hope that it’s ok I’m still here.”
“Of course, Ellie; I want you here. How did you sleep?” He’s stroking my hair gently and I close my eyes to enjoy the sensation.
“I slept really well. I forgot where I was.”
He smiles and it makes me want to take a mental picture of him. His stern, serious face breaking free for a moment, letting a lightness settle upon it. “Do you dream of your past lives too or is it just visions you get?”
“I’ve dreamt of the future a few times. And yeah, lately I’ve dreamt of the past. Usually though, I just get the flashes.”
“It’s kind of a cool talent you have, eh?”
I am not sure if I agree that it’s a talent, but I keep that to myself. “Tell me about a skill you have…there must be one you haven’t mentioned yet.” He’s still stroking my hair and it’s so soothing that I’m tempted to fall asleep. Talking is helping me stay lucid.
“Hmmm, well I’m not sure it’s a talent, but I can speak Gaelic.”
“Really?” My eyes light up. My English is fine, my French is crap. Gaelic seems like such an exotic, romantic language. “Say something in Gaelic.”
“Like what?”
“Anything”
He pauses. He’s looking at me intently, his hand cradling the side of my face.
“Tá tú go h-álainn.”
I ask him what it means. “You are beautiful,” he says slowly, emphasizing each word.
I blush. It’s uncomfortable to be so analyzed, even if it’s with admiration. I know that it could be so fleeting. What Declan loves today could be old and boring in a month. Of course, I want to believe him. I do. And then an inner voice says: It’s more than beauty. You know this.
He continues, “Oh and speaking of you, I want to draw you! Is there a place in town that sells art supplies?”
“Not really, but we can go to Jack Bailey’s place. He’s an artist and my mom’s ex-boyfriend. He’s cool. He’ll hook you up.” I haven’t spoken to Jack in over a year, but I know he will help us out. I also know he still loves Frances.
“Why did they break up?”
I pause. I remember how sad Frances was, and how she said it was just “over”, that there was nothing left to keep them together. It didn’t seem that way for Jack, but Mom had been adamant. It was done. “My mother just wanted to see other people,” I tell him. “Do you want to go now?”
“Yes! We can grab a coffee from downstairs and go. Is that cool?” Declan is already out of bed and putting clothes on as he asks. I nod at him and proceed to get dressed myself.
Downstairs we see Alistair and he seems to study me with an air of disapproval. It annoys me slightly. I mean, he is the one who set us up!
“Good mor
ning, son. Good morning, Ellie,” he says and motions for us to join him at his table.
“Sorry Dad, we’re on our way out. Ellie’s taking me to the studio of a friend of hers. I’m going to pick up some supplies. I want to start drawing again. I’m feeling inspired!”
Alistair sips his coffee slowly before he replies, “Is that so? That’s good to hear, Declan. And what are you thinking of drawing? The harbour? The trees?”
“Ellie,” he says and I can feel Alistair’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare look at him. Guilt washes over me, but I say nothing.
Declan grabs my hand and we both wave good-bye to his father. I look back at Alistair and shrug.
He shakes his head. Nope, he does not approve.
We huddle together for comfort against the wind as we walk down the hill toward Jack’s apartment / studio. Jack is a full-time artist who has found his success selling paintings of The Bruce Peninsula’s nature and wildlife. That’s what he painted for a living, but I know that his passion is painting nudes. I frequently saw women of all shapes and sizes climbing the steps to his apartment. I had even glimpsed a painting or two. The pictures were always tasteful and yet erotic at the same time. I found his work brave and fascinating.
I know he painted Frances. I always felt fortunate to not have stumbled across any of those pictures.
As if conjured out of thought, my mother appears, coming out of the Foodland with cloth shopping bags in either hand. Her wavy blonde hair is covered by a blue kerchief and she is dressed in black yoga gear. Even at this distance I know her eyes light up when she sees me. “Hey baby!” she shouts.
Declan and I walk toward her arm in arm and I can feel his tension, his anxiety. “Mom, this is Declan. Declan, this is Frances, my mother.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Stewart. Can I help you with your bags?”
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