Journey's End (Marlbrook)

by Carroll, Bernadette

  “Sir. I thank you for providing a roof over my head,” Laura stated without faltering. “I shall gladly move to new lodgings. However, I must express my one regret. Had I known earlier that this accommodation existed, we may both have been saved a great deal of trouble.”

  Thomas’ face bore the mark of Laura’s success.

  Laura’s eyes locked with Thomas’, fury serving a purpose. “I take it that I may leave my belongings here for collection at a later date? I do not think that even you would insist on my undertaking their cartage.”

  Self-disgust sat with Thomas, but unlike Laura, he governed his reply. “I did not intend to wound you, Laura. I came here this morning with a reasonable request that you, madam, not I, have chosen to turn upon myself. A horse has been prepared for your journey and the kitchen is yours before you leave. I have business to which to attend. Good day, madam!”

  Thomas retired, and Laura felt as though the room crumpled inward under the strain of the climactic pause.

  The courtyard was deathly quiet, a hoard of grey clouds filtering the new sun. Foreboding piggybacked Laura. A snort, followed by the impatient stomping of hooves, reminded her that she did not travel alone. Laura’s companion, a regal chestnut-coloured mare, appeared anxious to depart.

  Thomas entered the yard. Holding Laura’s mount steady, he imparted directions while Laura scaled the animal’s heights. To the surprise of both, hostility managed to absent itself. Thomas’ duty dispensed with, he made his way back to the house, and the gnarled wooden door of the kitchen removed him from Laura’s sight.

  Stunned, Laura merely sat upon the beast. The dawn confrontation had drained her of her energy. In the early hours of this morning, her looking glass had displayed a wild woman, one with hair in disarray and eyes that glowed from a conflict unresolved. Briefly, she wondered what story that same mirror would impart to her now.

  Shoulders rose and fell; the shrug symbolic in casting her troubles from her. Laura took stock of her situation. Today would bring a safe place to stay and the elimination of him from memory. Two very good reasons for her ride to get underway.

  As Laura exited the courtyard, the compulsion to look back was strong. She pulled hard on the reins to bring her mount to a halt. The dark steep-pitched roof of his abode upheld the appearance of youth when compared to its decaying supports, the depth of colour donating an ageless aspect. To the left of the original building, the foundation stones of some ancient habitation lifted their heads above a field of weeds, his quarters threatening to share the same fate. The daylight, she noted, added even fewer favours than the night.

  Laura urged the horse forward, shifting pace to a gentle canter as they took on the miles ahead.

  The pages of Laura’s journal, once treasured for their unswerving loyalty, today Laura condemned for their abject betrayal. The previous night’s offerings sat raw in memory, her words returning to taunt her.

  “The days spent in the company of this man have served a purpose. The awkwardness that first comes as natural between strangers was today left behind, as we succeeded, thanks to his forthright nature, to dispel the frowns of society.

  We have forged a mutual friendship, one that has granted us the freedom of speech. Until the addition of his Lordship, I held the caretaker to be a companion from whom I could learn and share. I sleep now in the hope that all will be well upon Lord Henry’s departure.

  Of his Lordship, I concede that he is, as described, an accomplished man, but I confess that I experience unease whenever I am in his company. However, I am reminded that he is a Lord and that the circumstances of our encounter were not ideal, especially for a master who is greeting his hired help for the first time.”

  CHAPTER TEN – Shelter

  The landscape was not as daunting as first thought. As far as the eye could see, lush green fields were lined with waist-high stone walls, a vision designed to capture the imagination of poets and artists alike.

  Laura’s horse rested, consuming some of the bountiful grass that swayed as if to a musical performance, the gentle breeze carrying upon its wings an odour unique to the provincial. A grin surfaced. The English countryside, Laura determined, could become a passion if one dallied too long.

  The spring weather was upon her, and although the cold lingered, the temperature did nothing to detract from the wholesome beauty of the region. The first few hours passed without incident.

  The wind gave a sudden show of strength, tossing Laura’s coat of spun wool to one side. Embarrassment overwhelmed her. The opening revealed a prim dress. The gown stopped at knee length to expose slim and shapely calves. Refusing to be relegated to the rank of a woman who flinched at the slightest hardship, Laura had consented to ride astride the animal when no side saddle had been produced. She cringed. The caretaker had been privy to her brazen display. Without a doubt, Laura was glad she would never see him again.

  As midday came and went, the novelty of compulsory isolation wore off. Rain clouds amassed. The weather was undergoing change, and Laura could not afford to neglect their presence for much longer.

  By mid-afternoon the clouds had opened, dotting the countryside with their random formations. The fine drizzle had no effect on Laura's progress; however, the army of heavy droplets that followed saturated everything they touched. Drenched through to her last petticoat, the cold forced Laura to seek shelter.

  The icy wind gnawed at Laura’s bones and distracted her thoughts. At this juncture, she knew that any decision she made could be wrong. Laura turned her horse around and started back. The animal made its reluctance known, the creature was loath to divert from the firm tread of the highway to take on the uneven surface of the fields.

  At a halfway point, Laura brought her companion to a halt. Barely visible against the hostile, dusky background, a human shape appeared on the horizon. Laura understood that the formation would either crystallize or amount to naught, except to prove her desperation. She could do nothing but wait and pray.

  Laura tried to stay alert. Her blood governed the seconds, as it uniformly pumped its way through her heart, until at last the figure began to grow in definition. The object of her attention established itself as real.

  Plots unfolded in rapid succession. Laura accepted that the rider could either be a threat to her safety or her saviour in this her darkest hour. Left without options, she urged the animal to return to the road.

  The rain continued to show no mercy. Changing in consistency to form large pellets, the freezing water stung exposed areas of flesh. Laura’s hands suffered.

  Silently, the stranger exercised control over Laura’s mount. She offered no resistance.

  Upon reaching their destination, Laura slid from the saddle. Her strength had gone; her willpower was all she had left to depend upon. This man had delivered her from certain death; she would count her blessings first.

  Hay, neatly stacked in one corner of the room, was the last irrelevant detail that Laura captured. Trembling, scared and tired, Laura’s world blackened, and she did not notice the gentle hands that lifted her or the strong arms that carried her to her bed of straw.

  #

  Laura’s reluctance to wake was assisted by a dulled intellect. Skin smothered skin, its texture smooth to the touch. Laura woke with a jolt. Her conscious mind shouted an ugly truth; she lay half-naked with a man. She did not seek further details, as first terror greeted and then overpowered her.

  Undisturbed by Laura’s reaction, her rescuer held her close. “Laura, please calm yourself, I beg of you, for all is well.” Laura’s renewed bout of panic cut Thomas’ speech short.

  Details of Laura’s condition began to unfold, the information severing her mental blockade. The caretaker’s body originated her warmth. The man was naked to the waist and then only scantly clad from there on. The unwanted insight almost robbed Laura of her remaining senses, but the finishing touch had yet to be absorbed. Laura was also bare. Except for her under-dress, a paper-thin petticoat, Laura recognised that s
he was naked, the see-through rudimentary barrier inferior at its best. With this sordid information firmly entrenched, Laura tried to extract herself from the caretaker’s hold, but her repeated efforts were wasted.

  Shame dragged Laura’s head from its perch, guarding her mind against the view that upturned eyes would afford. Tears fell in hot waves. Laura felt trapped - devastated that she had chosen the wrong path and furious this fate should befall her.

  A strong hand ruled. In authority, Thomas ignored the weight of Laura’s unsupported head, guiding the object to where he could again look upon her lovely features.

  Laura accepted Thomas’ domination but nevertheless suffered. His actions made her surroundings real.

  “Laura. For all our sakes, you must listen to me. You fainted from the cold, and I had no other means by which to help you. Nothing- I repeat, - nothing has happened that should raise your concern. I removed your clothes to save your life.” Thomas ceased his approach. If he hoped to be of any use to Laura, he would somehow have to lower her defences.

  Words reached Laura but had no meaning; however, the soothing sound of Thomas’ voice finally quieted her fears.

  Thomas proceeded with haste. “The rain saturated your dress and undergarments. However, I practised restraint, allowing you to retain some form of modesty.”

  Thomas spoke the truth. The weather, their common enemy, unified them, and to worry about the appropriateness of dress had not entered his reasoning.

  Thomas paused in thought. The wetness of the material had been heaven-sent and beyond his ability to alter, but he had to declare that he had not closed his eyes upon the exquisite vision it had yielded him. The image of Laura’s naked body would not volunteer to disperse of its own accord, and a condemning grin erupted from nowhere, portraying his errant thoughts. It took the cold to lure him from his private reflections.

  Laura could hardly believe the display that she was privy to. Her struggles required her to adjust to her exposed condition, a difficulty on its own, but to have this man laugh at her expense just plain angered her. Her ordeal was not open to public ridicule.

  “I am glad that you find my problems amusing, sir.” The airing of her reprimand served to partially restore Laura’s spirits. “I appear to be fine,” she quipped, “so if you would kindly remove yourself from my portion of straw, I shall dress and then we can be on our way.”

  The laughter that had temporarily made itself known, now fled as quickly as it had arisen. Thomas’ response was brief. “No, madam, I think not. The rain has yet to recede, and your dress is still wet. I will hear no argument that questions the validity my decision.” Thomas attached finality to his words, signalling an end to this particular conversation.

  “Then would you kindly remove yourself to another part of the room, for I shall be perfectly fine by myself.” Self-righteousness again interfered with Laura’s common sense.

  “As you will,” Thomas retorted, and instantly a gap opened between them.

  The repercussions for Laura were immediate. The cold stung her bare flesh and, as the implications dawned of what would come next, Laura examined the likelihood that she had inherited her feeble-mindedness.

  When Thomas judged that Laura had learned her lesson, he wrenched her to him, his body, broad and capable, again comforting hers.

  No words followed. Thomas waited for Laura to calm, and Laura waited for the chill to recede and the shaking to slow.

  Society erected immovable boundaries, and predicaments such as this called for Laura to risk her life rather than surrender and be seduced. Marlbrook would be lost to her. Society would shun the fallen and deny her the right to live in a respectable establishment. Laura depicted Sarah, with her bags in hand, alone and walking the streets and her anguish doubled. A great lethargy swept over Laura. The repercussions would be shared.

  Misery took time to pass. Laura decided that she would beg, if necessary, but either way, the caretaker must be made to remove her from this improper situation.

  Laura lifted her head from her makeshift pillow of straw, ready to confront Thomas with her suffering, but her plan failed miserably. The concern Thomas portrayed, in response to her plea, was her undoing, and a new flow of tears slipped silently down and around the contours of her face. Unwittingly, Laura brought about her own downfall.

  Laura’s pain seduced Thomas.

  Soft lips, tender of touch, arranged lingering kisses upon Laura’s cool flesh, and the contact made her heart pound.

  Laura’s body responded without conscience, the caretaker’s caresses making her yearn. Laura succumbed to the moment.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - Forgiveness

  The virtuous adults charged with Laura’s upbringing had successfully removed any notion that an intimate act could be pleasurable, strengthening guilt with the prospect of sin. Laura’s tentative departure into a world of self-indulgence ended as suddenly as it had begun.

  “Thomas, I implore you, please stop.”

  Laura’s slight form tensed under Thomas’ hold. He did as Laura asked. He sympathised, for anguish united them.

  “Rest easy, Laura. I shall stay by your side until the warmth returns and the rain ceases, and then I will deliver you into safe hands.”

  Thomas supported himself on one elbow, altering his body position to assist his words. “I am not the beast you imagine, madam. Your estimation of my person has me using women, tossing them aside as though this behaviour were an inherent part of my day.”

  Laura experienced a choking sensation, taken aback by the directness of his words.

  Thomas continued. “Although, I must confess that having a woman I care about in such close proximity is a trial, but one that I guarantee would cause even the most chivalrous of knights to quake.”

  Thomas’ sincerity weakened Laura’s defences.

  “Laura. Other than apologising, there is nothing I can do to rectify this situation.” The man imparted to the woman a fragment of hope. “I beg of you, Laura, do not judge either of us too harshly.”

  “Sir, I too must confess, for I am obliged to remember that a fate far worse awaited me if you had not come to my rescue. You saved my life.”

  One other matter required Laura’s attention. “Moreover, I do not believe that other men, having found themselves in your position, would have been this patient or disciplined in their restraint.”

  Her troubles aired, Laura collected courage from her depths to face Thomas once more, but desire surged and quickly forced her to withdraw. She feared her romanticisms would let her down.

  Minutes passed sluggishly to form dreary hours, until relief arrived from an unexpected source. Night, once regarded as Laura’s enemy, now cloaked her protectively in its fabric. With exhaustion confirmed, sleep fleetingly carried her away.

  Upon waking, the finer details of Thomas’ features were at first difficult to distinguish. Gradually, Laura’s sight adjusted; the suns first rays were yet to fully blanket the new sky.

  Instinctively, Laura sensed that Thomas was awake. The fading shadows provided a valuable ruse, protecting her from his dark, penetrating eyes. The unsteady rhythm of her breathing donated the sole discord.

  Thomas’ thoughts led him down a street where complications dwelled. Laura supplied his quandary. Schooled in the old ways, she respected a class system that exonerated peerages, a system that assumed one person the better of his neighbour. Few of English origin had triumphed over this social evil. Thomas had Henry to thank for his awareness. If Laura learned of his birthright, he might forfeit the chance of a future with her and he had no intention of losing her through some outdated nonsense.

  Laura interrupted Thomas’ thoughts.

  “Are you to stay at the manor alone or will your family join you?” Laura’s hand rushed to cover her mouth. She had no idea from where the inappropriate query had originated.

  Thomas came from a noble lineage, a recorded ancestry that spanned centuries. His family and their ruin were a part of that history. Thei
r tragedy had not come from the outside; their fate had been delivered from a hand within.

  “It is an unfortunate man, Laura, who is without kin, and I am such a man.”

  For Laura’s sake, Lord Thomas Ashley related his story from the caretaker’s point of view.

  “The Manor has a sordid history. It is said that the last owner died a sad and lonely death. Rumours abound that it was the owner’s inability to cope with adversity that destroyed the manor and its fortune.”

  Thomas paused. In truth, he spoke of his late father.

  “Grief had lain over the man, caused by the untimely death of his wife. He indulged in violent behaviour, encouraged by drink.”

  Thomas halted his rendition of events. His father had driven a wedge between them, an injury so deep that even the man’s deathbed had been ineffectual in healing the wounds.

  Thomas had been too young to grasp the significance of his mother’s tragic demise; this awareness had come much later. As an adult, Thomas had endured some of the raw emotions that accompany that learning, the term “ravished” symbolising his family’s pain. Those responsible for the heinous crime had never been held to account. The years had entrusted the event to memory, and the manor had gone the same way. Today it was the caretaker, under instruction, who was charged with the restoration of the estate.

  Emotion lingered. Laura could not effortlessly put aside the portrayal of a family torn apart by sorrow. The effects were sobering. Urgency did not bind Laura. Time, it seemed, was the one luxury they could afford.

  The worst part having been conveyed, Thomas shifted his recall to lighter topics. “Ma’am, would you care to hear about some of the wonders this world has to offer?”

  “Sir, you have my full attention.”

  Thomas gave a spirited rendition of his travels, the stories colourful and descriptive. He inspired his listener, who hung on his every word.