Throughout the whole regression I had heard whispers, like a melody hummed soft and low tugging at my memory of a song sung long ago. There was a part of me, an intuition, that was asking me to awaken.
Declan opened his eyes gradually and looked around. I could tell he had gone deep and was finding it difficult to adjust to his surroundings. I would help him.
“Declan?” I call softly. “Are you ok?”
He sits up slowly and locks his eyes with mine. “I’ve loved you a long time.”
He’s looking at me as if we are the only two people in the room. All of my senses are on alert, completely attuned now to him.
His voice is intense, assured. “That was unlike anything I’ve ever done. I could feel how everyone was feeling. I knew what Louisa and William were thinking. William’s fear and guilt were just so obvious and then Louisa…never have I been around anyone who had such compassion and innocence. Never until I met you, that is. You have her kindness and generosity, Ellie. You have her beauty.”
I could feel myself blushing as he continued. “I can tell this experience is about more than just how cool it is to know about a past life. We’re meant to learn some things here. I kept hearing the words ‘Forgive yourself’ while I was under,” he said.
Mrs. Dawes rubs her hands together quickly, as she leans forward in her chair. “That is incredible, Declan!”
Pushing his palms into his lap, he stands. “I agree Mrs. Dawes, but I don’t know what to do with it.”
She nods at him sympathetically. “Spirit does. Have you prayed before?”
Declan looks down at her, uneasy. “In desperation, yes…not really for any kind of guidance.”
“Right, well it’s not that hard. You have all you need already. Just declare you don’t know what all this is for and ask for help. Bring it all to the light. And you’ll be shown,” she says, her voice without a trace of doubt.
“I’m sorry, that seems so vague.”
Mrs. Dawes laughs. “We want the mysteries of the world to be so goddamned complex so that we can give a reason for our resistance in learning about them. It’s simple; and you -everyone for that matter-have all the answers within. Just ask. That’s what intuition really is.”
Declan goes to her, offering his hand to help her up. He tells her that he is still unsure, and yet he’s willing to figure it all out. The two of them paint an endearing picture. He: tall, severe, lean and clad in black. She: petite, pear-shaped, bright and unapologetically loving.
Declan was tired and decided to head back to the inn for some rest. I tucked my head beneath his chin as we embraced and whispered: “Sweet dreams.”
There was something about that session. There was something else in his manner, something I had rarely seen in him. It was hope.
I asked Mrs. Dawes for some privacy so I could meditate. Suddenly I needed hope too.
CHAPTER 31
Louisa
A few days passed and finally Louisa was given leave by Mrs. Young to walk out of doors. Upon hearing the good news, she immediately asked a favour of the midwife. She wanted to see her mother’s old home and asked Mrs. Young to take her to it. Louisa knew that her mother lived in her. She hoped she came to her in dreams. She seldom remembered her dreams so the hope was placed there blindly: there was little chance of confirmation or contradiction. She missed her mother so much sometimes that it hurt. There was a physical ache, a longing that was subdued only by closing her eyes…breathing.
And then the Mother of God would whisper: How can you yearn for that which has never left you?
She let herself bask in the possibility of that and then shrugged it off. Today was the day; the day she would find her mother’s home. Louisa was grateful for the words of wisdom, but this pursuit was already meant to happen. If God had written the script, then Louisa was following the stage directions, saying her lines. Finding this house would help her. It would lead her to exactly where she needed to be. And of course, the Blessed Mother would be her guide. She would not go anywhere without her.
Louisa reminded Janey and Edward in a brief and decisive manner that she was walking into the village. She was meeting Mrs. Young, the midwife, at her home in the village. She knew the servants would not approve, telling her father had been challenging enough. It was not a matter for discussion however; Louisa was determined.
When Mrs. Young had been treating Louisa for her sprained ankle, she had confided to Louisa that she had known her mother. It had been all Louisa could do to keep calm. Of course she always had her father to glean from, but here sat a woman who knew her mother as a girl!
She had grabbed Mrs. Young’s hand right out of the washing basin. “Tell me about her, please! What was she like?”
Mrs. Young laughed at her young charge. “Aye, I will. Depend upon it child. I will tell you all I know about your mother. She be right pretty that one. She didn’t talk much, but she said a lot if you catch my meaning. She was wise. Though she was but two years my senior, I felt as though she could have been my own mother. I wouldn’t dare cross her for fear of disappointing her. We all loved Mary Boyle.”
Louisa’s eyes welled up at this. She had always felt safe with her mother, but that seemed a natural symptom of being her daughter. It warmed her heart to know that she made others feel this way too.
Continuing down the tree-lined path, she reached the clearing to the village. It was a fine day in Tobermory. The sun shone brightly and its rays bounced joyfully off the glass-like surface of the sea. Louisa breathed deeply, savouring the scent of salt and fish. The wind was a mere breeze today, the perfect setting for her quest. She said a silent prayer of thanks.
She approached the door of Mrs. Young’s tiny village home with an excitement difficult to contain. Laughing out loud at her silliness, Louisa took a moment to calm. She raised a hand to knock on the door, but was surprised when it opened revealing Mrs. Young who was apparently preparing to quit the house.
“Oh, Miss De vale! I am so sorry, but I just received word that Mrs. Brown is having pains. It looks like her wee babe will be coming early,” she declared good-naturedly. Louisa tried unsuccessfully to hide her disappointment. Mrs. Young touched her arm reassuringly. “Fear not, love. My boy, George, will take you to your dear mother’s house. And you needn’t worry, he’ll be a gentleman. I put the fear of God in him!” she announced with a laugh.
It was then that Louisa noticed someone standing in the shadow of the doorway. Mrs. Young grabbed the young man and lovingly pushed him forward. Apparently this was George. She had to strain her neck to look at his face. Indeed, he was the tallest man she had ever seen and yet he could not be more than nineteen. His girth, it seemed, had yet to catch up with his height. He was so shy and his manner so gentle, that Louisa dropped any fear she may have had. She introduced herself quietly and curtsied before him. George immediately went red and bowed to her to be polite, but perhaps also to mask his embarrassment. Mrs. Young kissed them both and hurried away.
“Er…follow me, if you please, Miss De vale,” said George in a voice barely above a whisper. Louisa now noticed that he was quite handsome although it was clear from his demeanour that this would be news to him. His brown eyes were soft, with long dark lashes and his chestnut hair was well-kept and shone youthfully in the midday sun. Louisa smiled. He would make some young lady a fine husband one day.
“I thank you, Mr. Young, for agreeing to take me to my mother’s family home. Though I am sure you had little choice in the matter. Am I right?” she asked archly. George’s eyes were fixed on the ground as they walked out of the village, but Louisa could tell he grinned at her comment. “I promise I shall not linger long. My mother has been gone these ten years and I miss her. To see a part of her past will bring me comfort, but it is not my intention to keep you from your affairs.”
Mr. Young breathed in sharply. Looking up briefly he uttered “It is not a bother, madam. It is an honour; I assure you.” Now it was Louisa’s turn to blush. His voice was q
uietly intense and he gave the impression of knowing her.
“Have we met, sir?” she asked on impulse.
Her question seemed to catch him off guard. “No, Miss De vale…that is I…I have seen you in the village. You were singing one day with my younger sisters,” he replied nervously.
He really was a sweet young man. Louisa could not help but feel affection for him and therefore her penchant for teasing rose to the surface. “Ah-ha! I have caught you, sir. You have been spying on me. Worried I am not a worthy friend for your dear sisters, eh?”
Immediately Mr. Young retreated. He was clearly worried that he had said too much. Putting his hands in his pockets, he quickened his pace to put distance between he and Louisa.
“Mr. Young! Come now, I was only jesting. I know you were doing no such thing. I apologize if I offended you. I seem to have a knack for offending. Perhaps I should take it as a sign to speak less…”
Mr. Young stopped suddenly and in a moment of bravery, offered his arm to her. Louisa felt her heart give a little jump. He reminded her of Mr. Mara. The thought made her sigh and curl her lips slightly into a saddened smile. For a moment she forgot where she was. Mr. Young turned and guided her up the path that would lead them to the cottage. Silently, Louisa asked Mother Mary for strength. It was then they heard a shout from behind them.
“Louisa! My dear!” called Sir Thomas. Louisa and George Young turned in unison to see her father and Mr. Mara at the bottom of the hill.
They had met with the engineer earlier and appeared to be on their way back to Cliffside. The two men climbed to meet them. William looked distracted and seemed unwilling to meet her eyes. Louisa introduced Mr. Young to the gentlemen.
“I had thought that the midwife was taking you to the house, my dear,” said her father.
“As did I,” said William sharply, his gaze now intensely fixed on her. She wanted to roll her eyes at his stern tone. Had he forgotten himself? They had no understanding to speak of. She was not his.
Mr. Young found his voice, “My mother had to visit Mrs. Brown and asked me to show Miss De vale to the house.” It was obvious he was speaking to William, but William did not take his eyes from Louisa.
“Perhaps I may join you?” he asked.
Mr. Young started to reply, but Louisa spoke first. “I do not believe that to be necessary, sir. Mr. Young seems quite capable to escort me. We shall not be long.” If he was jealous, she would make it clear she would have none of it. She would insist on complete trust.
William was seething. He looked to Sir Thomas as if seeking his support, but found none. “Really, Miss De vale, I must insist”
“No sir, I insist,” she interrupted with a voice that would not be gainsaid. “Come Mr. Young. Farewell Father…Mr. Mara.” And with that the two turned back toward the path and walked away.
CHAPTER 32
William
George Young looked back briefly at the gentlemen with a slightly smug look that made William’s blood boil. “Over my dead body,” he muttered to himself.
Sir Thomas had sympathy, “Come on, son. Let us return to the house. I happen to know that Mary’s home is not more than five minutes from here. All will be well.”
“Five minutes indeed, sir?” And with that, Mr. Mara’s mind was made up on the matter.
She was too close to him.
William watched as Mr. George Young led his Louisa up the path leading to her mother’s childhood home. He stayed as far back as possible to keep out of sight and yet still be able to see them. He told himself that he had to ensure her safety. It was highly improper that she be allowed to go anywhere with a man unescorted. How could Sir Thomas not see that? How could Louisa not see it?
He shifted away from the beaten path to follow closer alongside and through the bit of forest that curtained them. She was laughing. He was making her laugh. William stopped for a moment as the truth took hold: of late all he had done was cause her unhappiness. He exhaled sharply and let the notion leave with the breath. It was much too heavy on his heart to feel that right now.
They came around the bend and suddenly it was there. At that moment, the sun reappeared between two clouds and a beam shone down on the structure. It was the façade that met them first: crumbling stone with moss claiming the bottom half of the house. It was plain. The roof was steepled and completely sunken in. The front door had a board nailed across it, barring entry, and five murky windows adorned the front wall.
William tugged at his cravat as he watched Louisa separate herself from Mr. Young and walk slowly towards the cottage, as if magnetized to it. She held a gloved hand just slightly at her mouth, her manner one of wonder. He wished to go to her, but he swallowed hard and remained in his spot behind a tall pine tree. Mr. Young shuffled his feet and studied the ground. William silently willed the man to stay where he was.
Louisa went to a window and pressed her hand to the glass. He could not tell if she could see inside. Her chest rose and fell slowly; she was taking it all in. Was she crying? It was difficult to tell. In his mind’s eye he pictured himself going to her, putting his arms around her and pulling her close as he whispered “All is well, my darling. I am here.”
But he was not there. He was a coward behind a tree. And the woman he loved stood grieving a lost mother but twenty feet away from him.
Just then Louisa raised her head and looked in his general direction. He brought his head quickly back behind the trunk. She had not seen him.
She sat down on a large rock to the side of the house. She was closer now. Eyes closed, she brought her hands together in prayer. He allowed himself to soak up the picture she created. Her spencer was brown, but her gloves and dress were white. She wore tiny white flowers in her blazing red hair that resembled little bells. He had earlier resisted the urge to take in their scent mixed with hers. William observed as a calm appeared to wash over her and he could swear that a white light emanated from her head and shoulders, if only for a moment.
His breath caught and he sighed. An image of his mother was brought forth from the far reaches of his memory and for once, it was not unwelcome.
Louisa opened her eyes and again looked in the direction of where he stood. The smallest evidence of a smile appeared on her face, but it was enough to disarm him. How he wished he could be the source of her smiles…
Thankfully, he was completely hidden from view.
“Mr. Young,” she called. “I am ready to go now.”
Louisa
Louisa returned to Cliffside feeling a mixture of grief and harmony. The house had not been as derelict as she had previously feared. The most notable part about it had been how much moss covered the foundation of the structure…as if at least one aspect of nature had not forgotten. She had imagined that her mother’s spirit would speak to her on the grounds there. It had not. She felt her mother always, but had hoped the feeling would intensify somehow by being close to where she had once lived. Louisa took a deep breath and smiled. It is possible she had put too much stock in a broken old house.
Walking in the front door, Louisa recalled the moment she had felt strong arms about her and a whisper in her ear. She closed her eyes once more to invite the feeling back. It had been exquisite; a lifting of fear and sorrow, but it lasted only an instant. And then later she had prayed. Sitting on a rock, she had called on Mother Mary for protection and to ease the pain in her heart. It was working, if only a little.
Removing her gloves and spencer, she felt someone watching her. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Mr. Mara standing by the hearth, staring at her…looking at once heartbroken and relieved. They had rarely spoken since that last conversation in her bedchamber. He now rose earlier and returned to the house only after the rest of them had already dined.
For her own part, Louisa could not find the motivation to seek him out. Instinctively she knew he needed space and yet, she felt his presence every second of the day no matter where he was. It was as if she could sense him thinking of her,
wondering where she was and what her thoughts were. It was both endearing and infuriating. She decided to settle on an emotion somewhere in the middle.
“Does something offend you, Mr. Mara?” she addressed him without looking up. “I do believe you are staring at me. You must at least give me leave to attend to my appearance before surveying my person so gravely!”
He laughed briefly, possibly in spite of himself but soon again turned serious. “It was not my intention to stare, madam.”
His response was cryptic and Louisa was not about to let him off so easily. “What was your intention, sir?”
“I-That is, I had no intention other than to greet you.” He was holding his hat in front of him and nervously running his fingers about the brim. “I uh…I hope that Mr. Young was a gentleman.”
“You know that he was.”
William reared his head, indignant. “I know no such thing and really Miss De vale, it is highly improper that he escorted you anywhere without a proper chaperone. I am not sure what Mrs. Young was thinking…”
Louisa brought her hand to her temple in exasperation. “This is Mull, Mr. Mara not London. And you are fooling no one. I know that you followed us.”
She made her way past him and climbed the stairs to her room. She knew she must try to keep a cool head and to remember that, in the end, she still loved this man.
Following her and stopping in her doorway he declared, “I do not know what to say, other than that your safety was all I thought of.”
“Really?” she asked dubiously as she unpinned her long red hair and let it fall upon her shoulders.
“I saw the way he looked at you, Louisa. You do not know men. I shall leave it at that.”
She rounded on him, “You shall leave it at what, pray tell, some vague evaluation of the feelings of a stranger? Really, William, I am surprised at you. You ignore me for days and then sulk like a child upon seeing me with a new friend.”
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