A Stranger's Kiss

by Rosemary Smith

  “Why, yes sir.” I had replied somewhat stupidly, thinking all the while that any chance of gaining the position had now evaded me.

  “I also think you could Miss Trent.” The handsome Richard Roseby had said without further ado. “Could you start next Monday?”

  “I could indeed sir.” I’d replied somewhat overcome as I really thought the interview had not fared well.

  “All I ask Miss Trent, is that while you are with my daughter that you refrain from daydreaming.” Any other person would have spoken these words harshly but there was a mischievous gleam in Mr Roseby’s eyes and I could see he was amused.

  “I promise I’ll try to do so, sir.” I said lightly once more looking out over the large green lawns where, even as I looked, I could see four people playing croquet.

  “Would you like to join them?” asked my employer.

  “No indeed not.” I had said.

  “I’d like you to,” had been his answer, “so you can meet your charge.” As he spoke he walked over to the window, beckoning me to join him. As I stood next to him I realised how tall Richard Roseby was, he appeared to tower over me and at the proximity of his nearness I felt my heart skip a beat for he was indeed a very attractive man. “The young woman in the lemon dress is Georgina Moor, a vain person who is intent on marrying me, and that young man about to hit the ball is her brother Jonathon. They live at Redcliffe Manor which is a short distance from here and they spend more time here than they do in their own home.” I was to learn over the coming weeks that this was indeed true and how I would come to loathe Georgina and she, me.

  “And who is the elderly gentleman?” I asked for, from this distance, he looked to be a pleasant kindly man.

  “He is my father George, and he will wish you to call him such.”

  “So I take it the young woman in pink with the parasol is Lina.”

  “You are correct in that assumption Miss Trent, I’d like you to meet her now,” he said seriously. “For it remains to be seen if you will take to each other.” So Mr Roseby and I walked back down the staircase together, the thick gold-coloured carpet soft beneath my feet, me hardly believing that I had secured the post. As I left in the Roseby’s brougham some time later, looking back at the three storey building basking in the afternoon sun, the long windows gleaming, I realised how fortunate I was.

  My parents had died in a storm on a crossing back from France in late February and since then I had been sewing day and night for Mrs Forester to earn a living, but I loathed it and now I would stitch no more except for pleasure. There was a light knock on my door and Lina walked in, interrupting my revelry of those important moments a few weeks ago.

  “How do I look Charlotte?” said Lina. She was a pretty young woman who lacked confidence in herself but with my help and persistence I hoped to change things, so that eventually she would marry well which was her father’s intention. She stood before me now looking still very much the child, ringlets fell each side of her face and a soft fringe fell over her forehead which was very much the fashion of the day. The pink dress she wore was over decorated with flounces at the v-neckline, the sleeves and the skirt both at the back and front. Fortunately we were to have a visit from the dressmaker in a day or two when I hoped Lina would be happy to accept my suggestions of more sleek lines to accentuate her lovely figure, with round necklines for evening. The young woman had come to readily accept me as her mentor for which I was thankful and had insisted on including me in all the activities of the household.

  “You look charming,” I told her kindly. “But when Mrs Rivers arrives we will need to make a few changes to prepare you for your coming out ball in Exeter in September.” While Lina looked out of the window watching the arrival of the Moors I quickly looked back in the mirror wishing to look my best for my employer who I’d fallen madly in love with. I knew that I never dared expect that love to be reciprocated but I lived in hope. The soft yellows of the room reflected in the mirror and once again I thought momentarily of the grey lady and wondered if I should mention it to someone, but Richard Roseby already knew I was a daydreamer and would no doubt dismiss me if he had the notion that I was not only dreaming but seeing things as well. I decided to remove it from my mind.

  The pale blue cotton dress I wore was quite pleasing to the eye, complimenting my lustrous light brown hair which, like Lina’s, fell softly over my forehead. The bulk of it was drawn back into a bun at the back of my head, allowing my curling dark lashes and my grey eyes to be my most prominent feature.

  “Are you wearing the pearls your father gave you,” I asked Lina as she walked back across the small cosy room which was on the third floor.

  “Yes I am,” said Lina showing me the creamy pearls which adorned her slender neck. Although I was only five years older than Lina, being just twenty-two years of age, I appeared to be much older and wiser, but then Lina had led a sheltered life here at Budleigh Salterton while I had traversed the high seas with my parents since I was a child. It had only been because of illness that I had fortuitously not accompanied them on their last trip to France.

  Lina and I walked together down the two staircases to the dining room below, my A-line skirts clinging softly to my slender legs and brushing the carpet beneath my feet. We were a trifle late and all were assembled in the long dining room, the silver gleaming where a ray of sunlight fell across the white damask cloth onto the richly laid table.

  “I apologise for being late,” I said to Richard Roseby who was waiting to seat himself at the head of the table.

  “It is but a couple of minutes Miss Trent,” he replied amiably. “Please be seated.” I did as I was bid and sat next to Georgina Moor. Her brother was sat opposite us next to George who, on his left, had Lina between him and her father. For the umpteenth time I thought how young Richard Roseby looked and wished, as I had done all these weeks, that he would call me Charlotte, but there were many things I daydreamed about which hadn’t a chance of coming true. I looked at the wine-coloured wallpaper and wondered idly if it was Richard’s wife who had chosen it. I’d learned that she had died of a fever when Lina was just two days old, how sad I felt for both of them; he to lose a wife and she a mother.

  “I said, how are you coping with this heat?” Georgina’s harsh voice drifted across to me. She was sat next to my employer and I saw him smile at my lack of interest at what was going on around me.

  “I find it quite bearable as long as we stay indoors,” I told Miss Moor. “I like to walk along the front after dinner when it is a trifle cooler.” I helped myself to the potatoes George offered to me in a china serving dish.

  “And do you walk with Miss Trent Lina?” Georgina asked of her.

  “No. I am usually too tired to accompany Charlotte, I don’t know how she does it,” replied Lina politely.

  “But this evening, we shall accompany Miss Trent on her walk, if that pleases you,” said Richard to me. My fork stopped half way to my mouth and I looked at him. “Well?” He said, obviously noting the bemused expression on my face.

  “I would be honoured Mr Roseby for you and Lina to accompany me.” I stumbled over the words for Richard Roseby was looking at me in a way he had never looked at me before, or was I imagining this also, as I was sure I was imagining the grey lady in my room.

  “We’ll all go, shan’t we Jonathon,” said Georgina to her brother and I realised that at no cost would she allow me to walk with Richard without her.

  “I’d prefer that the three of use went alone,” said Richard, quite unperturbed by Georgina’s request to join us.

  “Very well,” said Miss Moor, with more than a hint of disappointment in her voice. I smiled secretly to myself, and looked at Georgina. She was pretty in a faded sort of way and I guessed her to be a lot older than myself. Her hair which was brown never shone, and her beige-coloured silk dress although becoming looked as if it had seen better days, as did most of her clothes. I chided myself at such an uncharitable thought but I disliked her and she me,
so her next words surprised me somewhat.

  “I’d like you to call for tea at Redcliffe Manor one day this week Charlotte, with Lina of course. Shall we say Thursday? And of course the invitation extends to you dear Richard.” As she spoke she looked sweetly at the object of her affection and I thought of what Richard Roseby had said the first time I had set foot in Middlepark House — “A vain person who is intent on marrying me.”

  He wouldn’t marry her surely, and I waited with baited breath for his answer. “Apologies Georgina, but I have business to attend to this week. Another occasion perhaps.” As he spoke quite politely, I could see that Georgina was crestfallen.

  “Well, you and Lina will have to come alone I suppose,” she said to me and I realised that her only intention had been to lure poor Richard to Redcliffe Manor and that she hadn’t wanted to invite me at all. Well, her plan had failed to have the desired effect I thought.

  The meal over and goodnights said, Lina, her father and I set off down the lane towards the seafront. It was a glorious evening made all the more pleasant by my companions. Seagulls squawked in the distance and I could see them swooping in unison obviously following some fishing boat laden with fish. Lina went on in front of us pulling at the grass in the hedgerows. “No Lina,” I called, “that is not seemly for a young lady. Please walk with us.”

  “Quite right,” said Richard, “I can see you are doing a grand job with my daughter for which I thank you.”

  “Thank you for your kind words sir,” I said.

  “It is nothing more than you deserve young woman, would you…” Here his voice petered off and I realised Richard Roseby was about to ask me something but I would never know what as Lina joined us.

  “Is it alright for me to pick the wild flowers?” she asked.

  “It is, but it would be more seemly in the daytime. Maybe we could walk this way tomorrow if the weather holds,” I told her for the weather had been beautiful since I arrived — sunny, balmy summer days which I would never forget and wondered with some misgiving what would become of me when Lina found a suitable beau. My despair at the thought of leaving Middlepark was too dire to contemplate.

  “Miss Trent,” Richard’s voice drifted across, “daydreaming again?” Shall we ask her what she was dreaming about Lina?” And he laughed.

  “Would that I could tell you sir.” I said coyly and his face changed to one of seriousness.

  “Would that you could Miss Trent,” he said quietly. “Here we are, the sea in all its glory.”

  How I loved the sea, I thought, and I stood still and took a deep breath inward, breathing in the tangy, salty sea air into my lungs.

  “Surely that is unseemly Charlotte,” said Lina with a smile hovering at her mouth. I realised for the first time that she had the same wicked sense of fun as her father and I flung my head back and laughed quietly, my straw bonnet nearly falling off in the process.

  “Take my arm both of you,” said Richard unexpectedly, and so we walked along the three of us, Lina and I each side of her father. My hand trembled as I felt the smoothness of his sleeve and the strength of his forearm and I silently prayed he would not notice, but as he looked down at me I realised he had. Our eyes met and for a brief instance my dreams had come true, but the moment was gone and I looked out over the pebbled beach and sparkling sea, with small fishing boats drawn up on the edge unloading their catch. The large ball of fire which was the sun was starting to fall on the horizon ahead of us and I wondered if my dreams would ever come true. Only time would tell. The walk was invigorating and we returned to Middlepark with a spring in our step. Lina was tired and asked to be excused so she could go to her room which was next to mine on the third floor. Apparently it had been the nursery in times past and Lina had slept there since she was a child. As we watched her walk up the staircase I thought that I had best leave my employer to his own devices as much as I wished to stay with him for I was happier in his company than I had ever been in my life.

  “Is it alright if I sit in the library for a while sir?” I asked him

  “I will join you if I may,” he said, “for I wish to find another novel to read,” So we walked together to the library. It was a small cosy room, the walls lined with books of all shapes and sizes; the wall which held the fireplace was decorated in red. When we walked in lamps were already lit on four tables which were scattered about the room along with comfortable brown leather armchairs which had been used lovingly. I sat in one of them, picking up a volume of poetry which lay on the table by my chair. I glanced through it while Richard perused the shelves silently for a suitable book. As I watched him, looking at his broad dependable shoulders, I then glanced down at the book I held in my hand and read the words, “It seems to me, to myself, that no man was ever before to any woman what you are to me.” The words had been written by Elizabeth Barrett to Robert Browning and how true it was, just like my feeling for Richard Roseby but he must never know, unless there came a time when he declared his love for me. But I was daydreaming again, and I knew in my heart that this would never be. He came and sat in a chair opposite mine and started reading the book which he opened, his hand strong on the cover. We sat in a companionable silence, me reading the love sonnets and every now and then glancing at Richard. Sometimes he would raise his head from the book he was reading and smile at me; and so we sat until I suddenly felt weary and bid him goodnight.

  “Sleep well Charlotte,” he uttered, more absorbed in his book than me, but my heart sang for he had called me by my Christian name and I practically danced up the stairs, the sound of his voice uttering my name ringing in my ears and by the time I reached my room the sound of it became a caress. But my joy was to be short lived.

  Before going to my own room I looked in on Lina, tapping gently at her door in case she was asleep. I opened the door quietly and peeped into the modest sized room, everything was pink and white with a red carpet covering the floor. Lina sat propped up in bed against the pillows, her golden-coloured wavy hair loose about her shoulders, cascading down her back. She looked so young and vulnerable in a white cotton nightdress stitched with lace at the round, high neckline.

  “How I enjoyed our walk this evening Charlotte,” she said quietly. “I’d like the three of us to walk like that every evening after dinner. It was just like being a family.” I realised then how much she must have missed not having a mother.

  “We will do it again soon Lina. Now settle down for it is eleven o’clock and tomorrow we will go and collect some wild flowers from the lane.”

  “I’d like that.” I helped her arrange her snowy white pillows. By the time I crept from the room the young woman was already asleep.

  Entering my room I could see the lamp had been lit, no doubt by Ruby the young maid who I had taken to and she to me. The light fell onto the mirror as I went to remove my string of pearls, and what I saw made me almost scream aloud, but I clapped my hand to my mouth not wishing any sound to escape my lips. Written on the mirror in large letters in rouge from my pot were the words, “Help me.”

  Chapter Two

  It couldn’t have been a ghostly hand that had written the words, so who had done it? One of the servants maybe, but why would they do it? To frighten me perhaps? Or was there someone else in the house at Middlepark who wished to alarm me? But who? Surely not Richard or Lina; this was a preposterous thought. But my next notion seemed quite feasible, Georgina? I rubbed hard on the mirror with my facecloth, erasing the two words completely. Leaving my white flannel red as with blood and I quickly dropped it in the wastepaper bin. Going over and pouring cold water from the jug into the washbasin I washed my hands thoroughly with the soap. Erasing all of the dreaded words completely. But were they dreaded or did someone need help? This thought hadn’t until now occurred to me and I lay awake for some time mulling it over in my mind. Before I fell into a restless slumber I concluded that whoever it was and for whatever reason that wouldn’t be an end of it; little did I know that I would be proved to be co
rrect in this assumption.

  The next morning Lina and I were sat partaking of our toast at breakfast when to my delight Richard Roseby walked into the dining room but it appeared he wasn’t to join us.

  “We have a visitor arriving today Lina, so you may take the day off Miss Trent.” He directed his smile at me.

  “Thank you Mr Roseby,” I uttered, all the while wondering who the illustrious visitor could be and why I wasn’t invited to be part of the day.

  “Enjoy your day Miss Trent, and Lina, please hurry with your breakfast for I wish to speak with you in my study.” With these words he left the room and as I watched his tall figure disappear through the doorway I mused as to what exactly I would wish to do with myself, as it was the first time I had been left to my own devices since arriving at Middlepark.

  I went to my room and donned my straw hat and gathered together a small sketch pad and pencils and a small rug for I had thought to walk alongside the river Otter and sketch whatever took my fancy; contemplating all the while what my employer and his daughter were doing.

  I stepped out of the house and walked down the short driveway, observing as I did so the glorious colours of the roses which adorned the whole of the front garden. The wrought iron gates were open as usual and I stepped out onto the path we had walked on yesterday evening to the beach and I thought with some pleasure of my walk with Richard and Lina, and Richard using my Christian name in the library. At these pleasant thoughts I practically skipped along looking at the blue sky, across which small, fluffy white clouds scudded. There will be a change in the weather soon I thought to myself as I turned to the left and walked along by the river. It was quiet and still with no one else in sight, which surprised me on such a glorious day but I was thankful that it was quiet for I was glad of the solitude. I marvelled at the way some boughs of the trees lent towards the still grey water, their tips almost touching the river, the path was clear but overgrown with grass on one side and my royal blue skirt swished against it as I walked. To my delight I spotted a kingfisher sat on the branch of a tree on the opposite bank, his dagger-like beak straight and majestic. As quietly as I could I spread the small rug on the riverbank and as decorously as I could settled down with my skirts surrounding me. Picking up my pencil and sketchbook I set to capturing on paper the beautifully coloured kingfisher with his bright blue-coloured back and orange breast; he looked dressed for a ball. I sat for some time sketching and praying the beautiful bird would not fly or dip towards the water in search of a fish, but he was still and I thought how fortunate I was to be sat on this lovely bank surrounded by nature with the blue sky above me and the sun warm on my back. So engrossed was I with my drawing that I failed to hear the step of a stranger on the path.