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Journey’s End
By
Bernadette Carroll
Not till the Loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unfold the canvas, or reveal the reason why;
For the dark threads are as needful, in the skilful Weaver’s hand,
As the threads of gold and silver, in the pattern He has planned. (Unknown Author)
Prologue
The funeral notice was ordinary. A small insert, bold of headline, heralded the untimely death of Master Earl Townsend Esq. Times and dates were duly recorded, along with the whereabouts of his sole beneficiary, Miss Sarah Townsend. The information was published for the convenience of both mourners and creditors alike.
It was the winter of 1728, two weeks before Laura’s twenty-second birthday. She arrived on the day of the funeral - the day that her half-sister, Sarah, was ushered onto the street with only her personal possessions in hand.
CHAPTER ONE – Journey’s End
Lady Catherine observed the women in silence. She approved of their good features, and in the right dress, she imagined they might even be considered handsome. That they were half sisters was apparent, as physically they resembled nothing of each other. Sarah’s coal black hair contrasted with her sister’s, and their stature was unequal, Laura being of a more generous height.
Perched on the mantle, the brass, cherub-faced clock loudly proclaimed the hour. The crystal clear bells broke the deathly hush that had descended upon the grape-coloured chamber.
Lady Catherine’s ominous stare settled on Laura. “Your family must be anxious to place you in service; two daughters and no dowry. Your poor mother must be distraught!”
“Sadly, my sister and I have no other close family, Lady Catherine.”
“Of course, a family can be considered a curse as well as a godsend. However, a woman long denied a mother’s guidance may be more burdensome to me than of benefit.”
Laura’s spine straightened, mirroring Lady Catherine’s. “And if we were to be judged solely on merit?”
Lady Catherine’s thick grey eyebrows arched. Eager to challenge Laura in a duel of words, Lady Catherine applied herself with zeal.
“You illustrate a fine point. A woman may be knowledgeable in the aspects of running a household or embroidering a lace handkerchief, but a mother’s instruction cannot be dismissed.”
“I am afraid you find us at a distinct disadvantage, Lady Catherine. However, I believe that there are substitutes for a mother’s teachings. And perhaps, over time, the benefits of hiring us will outweigh your original argument.”
Lady Catherine believed that the elderly were tiresome, the middle-aged boring, and the young scatterbrained. In her pursuit of a companion, she had met, or so she thought, every manner of female that fitted the three categories. Nevertheless, Laura amused her. Besides, the sisters were penniless and in need of work. Her aged features formed a knowing smile: two servants for the price of one.
Without a further glance in the sisters’ direction, Lady Catherine signalled to her maid. “I have made my decision. Show these young ladies out, and along the way introduce them to Mrs McCarthy. They will report to her in the morning.”
Relief swamped Laura, leaving her speechless.
“Don’t stand around gawping at me, girl. And don’t be late. I abhor tardiness!”
From the second storey of the townhouse Lady Catherine browsed the scene below, a flimsy curtain protecting her from view. She observed the women as they exited onto the street. The younger sister posed a problem. Her instincts about the girl did not bode well. At sixty-and-eight years of age, Lady Catherine had come across many Sarahs in her travels. She sighed, aware that most brought nothing but trouble.
CHAPTER TWO – New Beginnings
Varying shades of green and brown dominated Lady Catherine’s private chamber, the lacklustre colours reflecting her sombre frame of mind. Left to her own company, Lady Catherine’s thoughts turned to her son; she despaired of his wayward antics. While Henry appeared totally uninterested in his future - and that of his entire family who were dependent upon his actions - Lady Catherine was not. She refused to allow some greedy relative to take over her home due to a lack of legitimate heirs – although there were, no doubt, countless illegitimate heirs that she could have summoned.
The business of arranging a suitable marriage for Henry had been dealt with, albeit without his contribution. Henry indulged himself in the diversions the city had to offer, and she prayed that with a wife and children to occupy him, he would not fret for long.
Negotiating the terms of her son’s forthcoming union had depleted Lady Catherine’s strength. She raised her bone-weary body from the comfort of her favourite chair. Summer approached. It was time she returned home; time she retired to Marlbrook and enjoyed the tranquillity of her beloved country estate.
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One month to the day after Lady Catherine had decreed it would be so, preparations to relocate her household neared completion.
Amid the confusion, Lady Catherine’s unforgiving tone echoed in the hollow corridors. “Insolent girl - do you not realise the significance of the piece of antiquity you hold in your hands? My family’s history did not survive centuries of struggle to be destroyed by the likes of you!”
Laura cast a sympathetic glance in the poor maid’s direction. The sun had barely risen from the night sky and already Lady Catherine had managed to berate the majority of her overworked staff. Laura plunged headlong into her long list of tasks, taking note for future reference of the chaos Lady Catherine left in her wake.
At precisely eleven o’clock the carriages appeared. The rain knew better than to make an appearance and, in little over an hour, the convoy was ready to depart.
Standing on the threshold, Laura looked on as the elite caravan of conveyances disappeared down the narrow lane at the end of the busy street. To Laura’s surprise, Sarah had been chosen to accompany Lady Catherine in the lead coach while Laura had been tasked with overseeing the closure of the London townhouse. She had two weeks to complete the chore before setting out to join them.
CHAPTER THREE – The Journey
Cold gripped the morning air as Laura climbed into the waiting carriage. A stark interior greeted her. Dark, worn leather seats revealed a solid centre but Laura ignored the discomfort. Nothing would subdue her good humour, and neither family nor friends with their sad farewells hampered her progress.
With the miles stretching before her, Laura relaxed to the steady beat of wheels skimming stone. She gazed through the open window as the uninspiring countryside, cold and bleak, passed her by. Thoughts of her half-sister occupied her mind. Sarah’s true nature had made itself known from the outset, her beautiful exterior camouflaging an unruly character. Their last encounter had served to highlight the gulf between the two.
“Servitude is abhorrent. I can think of nothing more undignified than pandering to the wants of a wealthy old lady, and I will not do it. I will not!” Sarah had reacted as any child would; however, her plea contained no merit, and besides, at seventeen, Sarah was no longer a child.
A loud thud against the underside of the carriage drew Laura from her pensive thoughts. The vehicle lurched, dumping Laura unceremoniously onto the carriage’s soiled wooden floor. Laura’s hair fell free of its constraints, temporarily blinding her, and a slight throbbing warned her that bruises might be forming in unmentionable places. Tentatively, she regained her seat as the carriage came to a halt on the desolate country road.
A dirt caked boot lashed out at the rear wheel of the carriage. The driver was in no mood for conversation. “I’ve done what I can, but it’ll be dark soon. We should make fo
r the nearest lodgings and seek shelter.”
Laura chose to walk in parts, when the vehicle hit rough sections of road and she feared her bones would rattle from the relentless shuddering. Despair formed around her, until, as the sun hovered low in the heavens, a silhouette materialized on the horizon.
The manor resided on the crest of a hill. The entrance was guarded by a steep, winding path, the approach placing additional strain on a vehicle already hampered with injury. Amid the upheaval Laura struggled to remain seated, her thoughts dulled by the clamour of wheels as the driver drew the journey to a close in a courtyard barren of life.
Laura stepped from the carriage and took stock of her wounds. Other than her pride having taken a fall and a few patches of discoloration marking her delicate skin, she appeared to have escaped serious harm.
The driver gestured toward the main house. “I’ll make preparations to take one of the horses and ride on to Marlbrook. If all is well, I will return in a day or two with another carriage.”
Laura observed the driver as he moved silently about his chores. Unloading the vehicle, he navigated in and around a tar-brushed snowman, and she had the vague impression that the dark creature had once been her travelling chests and solitary hatbox. Laura scolded herself for her unruly thoughts. Her responsibility was to find access to the manor and someone to care for the remaining horses. Sadly though, judging by the state of the place, she doubted either would be attained.
The layout of the buildings was quite clear. Although darkness had taken hold, the coarse cobblestones of the outer buildings guided Laura safely to the rear of the house. Upon reaching the servant’s entrance, Laura knocked at the sturdy door and declared her intentions to the dark. “Is anyone there?”
The calm night offered repetitious silence.
“I can assure you that we pose no threat.”
Despite her best efforts, Laura could neither retrace her steps nor move on. Her body betrayed her with its refusal to respond to her instructions, and she admonished herself for the unsound thoughts crowding her mind.
Reaching out of the darkness, behind closed doors, thin beams of light escaped via naked windows and side crevices. Strange noises emanated from the emptiness behind Laura. Cloaked in fear, she and the door almost became one. When the sound of a bolt being drawn greeted her, it left her no time to react. The door was wrenched open, and Laura fell backwards into the light.
CHAPTER FOUR - The Man
He stood before her, attired as a stable hand. Loose-fitting pants and an off-white shirt that hung freely to thigh length disguised a tall, sturdy frame and confirmed Laura’s first impressions. A lock of thick, wavy black hair partially obscured his features, which were not those of the refined English condition. His manner and stance appeared arrogant, seemingly untroubled by Laura’s abrupt entrance.
Laura leapt to her feet, struggling to find her voice. “Sir, I must apologise.”
Despite her unladylike arrival, Laura managed a smile. However, she noted that the stranger neither acknowledged her good humour nor returned the favour.
Embarrassed by the unnatural silence, Laura persevered. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Laura, Laura Jennings. I am companion to Lady Catherine Marlbrook. You may know of her, sir?”
Imaginary lint dotted Laura’s dress, compelling her to pull at the unsightly beads. Laura hesitated. Perhaps the man was mute and incapable of replying?
Thomas evaluated the stranger. Strands of her pale hair had escaped, the unbound tendrils were found wanting in colour against the backdrop of her embarrassment. They peeked out from under a dull, grey bonnet, a match for the dull, grey dress. However the woman’s ability to recover, forgoing the benefits of vapours and smelling salts, stood her in good stead.
Thomas amused himself. “Miss Jennings, it has been many years since these quarters have had the privilege of a lady the likes of you in its halls.”
“This - this home, sir…it is unoccupied?”
“I must congratulate you, ma’am. You have come to see the truth that lies before you.”
Thomas watched with interest for the stranger’s reaction. He admitted being a cad, but in all fairness, it was not unbelievable that she could be a figment of his imagination. To have a comely woman literally fall through one's door was not within the bounds of normality. Besides, this woman showed spirit; a trait no man would be foolhardy enough to add to his dreams - unless he was reckless at heart.
Her eyes were different. Defiant in attitude, Thomas doubted that anyone could enhance their condition. Green fragments dotted with gold were set against a background of grey, with a complexity of composition making a second appraisal obligatory. Thomas speculated about the character they illustrated and decided he would know more.
Laura glanced about her in the belief help might come from some unexpected source. “I am in need of your assistance. Our vehicle has met with an unfortunate accident and, as we speak, the driver is preparing to take his leave.”
Amusement flickered in Thomas’ ebony eyes. Laura detected the look, but before it took hold he replied.
“Miss Jennings. Surely you are able to see the reality of the circumstances in which you find yourself?”
To Laura’s horror, a mocking bow accompanied his curt remarks. “It appears that I may have made an error in judgment. Perhaps you might help me with some options, sir.” The “sir” was emphasised as sarcastic retaliation.
His countenance spoke volumes, and Laura was unsure what might happen next. Any lightness the man possessed faded. The black eyes that met her were stern.
Thomas, back less than three months, had already been entrapped within the neglected walls of Ashley Manor. More than two decades had passed since his travels had taken him from the soil of his English home, with the desire in his heart never to return. However, his resolve had not stood the test of time and his planned escape route had not taken into account the sense of duty which held him. It was an obligation, he assumed, that someone had instilled in him from an early age, without his knowledge.
Thomas Ashley, Lord and heir to the Manor, returned his attention to the woman before him. She conducted herself as though his equal, an intruder who had practically thrown herself through his door and, to his bewilderment, he enjoyed her and her more than obvious unworldly ways - at least for the present. Before granting her the benefit of his findings, he pulled himself to his full impressive height.
“I grow weary of this conversation, madam, and will leave you to your decision. Shelter is yours if you so chose, but I warn you: do not deceive yourself, as I have openly conveyed that I live alone. Should you still seek to remain here, I shall not indulge your whims of fancy should you raise them at a later date.”
Thomas spun on his heels, ready to stride from the room, the steady impact of foot to floor announcing his impatience. “Come. If your decision is to stay I will show you to your quarters, but -” his eyes narrowed, and Laura retreated in apprehension “-be aware that I have better things to do than to fetch and carry for the likes of you.”
Laura sighed. The man’s arrogance and sad deficiency in decorum did not constitute danger, and to suffer a small number of days in his company had to be better than tackling the dark and unknown terrain.
“I thank you kindly for your offer of hospitality. You find me grateful in my acceptance and though you may deride me, sir, I see that I must place your concerns at ease as to the subject of my care.”
Thomas listened attentively, keen to hear any reasoning she might put forward.
“I am able and quite content to carry my possessions. In fact in this, as in most events, you will find me attending to my own needs.”
Laura turned from him. With her head held high, she began the retrieval of her belongings from the driveway, but not before noting in his facial expression a certain slackness of the jaw-line, his stunned appearance affording her all the satisfaction she sought.
CHAPTER FIVE - Home
The i
mpact of horse’s hooves upon cobblestone echoed in the emptiness, as the reality descended upon Laura that she was alone. In the courtyard, her belongings were stacked in their original position and as she sat amongst them, she took a well-earned break.
Her worldly possessions consisted of two chests. She examined her belongings. The trunks were substantial in size and weight, and ultimately she ended up dragging them, one at a time, across the greater part of the compound.
Upon re-entering the house, she dropped the last chest to the ground. Laura had no care where the object landed for, in truth, it was considerably heavier than she would ever admit. Besides, the stranger was nowhere in sight to criticize her actions.
Two doors led from the kitchen. Behind one lay the path to her chamber. Laura was simply unsure which to take? Sparring with him had taken precedence, and she had been neglectful in observing his departure. Anxiety surfaced and while she denounced his conduct for its faults, she glanced furtively about, ensuring that he was nowhere in sight. She ventured to look behind the first door.
The opening led to a small study. The room had presumably been set aside for the servants, modest but comforting. A large, leather-bound book lay open, the corner table dwarfed under its mass. On closer inspection the book contained the intricate aspects of farming, a subject no lady would care to peruse.
Footsteps forewarned Laura of the caretaker’s presence in the neighbouring room. With haste, she dispatched the pages to their original positions.
As the door swung open, evidence of Laura’s unruly efforts still lingered. The look the caretaker imparted made her feel like a naughty child caught with her hand in the sweetmeat jar. She thought it absurd that a grown woman could be made to feel this bad.
“Madam, if you have quite finished looking through my personal belongings, I will show you to your room.”
Journey's End (Marlbrook) Page 1