by Dave Ferraro
“Mr. Sebastian Templeton, allow me to introduce you to my niece, Ms. Breanna Spencer.”
At my aunt’s announcement, Sebastian Templeton stood and turned to greet me, and I realised that my memory had not done him justice – he was even more breathtaking than I had recalled. He was tall – easily dwarfing my 5’6” frame – leanly muscled to suggest conditioning from the outdoors, and looked to be in his mid-twenties. His thick waving hair reminded me of the time I’d seen toffee made, but it was the unique radiance of his smooth caramel skin and piercing ochre eyes that I again found most captivating.
I steeled myself as I strode toward him, curious to gauge his reaction. However, upon sighting me, his amiable expression did not falter. Instead, he smiled broadly and extended his hand in greeting. “Ms. Spencer. Delighted to make your acquaintance.” His dazzling smile widened as he shook my hand.
I was stunned. Perhaps he didn’t recognise me in my more polished attire.
I gently freed my hand and folded my arms behind my back. My hand tingled pleasantly. “Welcome to Blackall Manor, Mr. Templeton,” I said serenely, maintaining my cordial façade. “I apologise for my brief delay. There was ... a minor complication, but I trust that my aunt has told you about the many features of the estate and the surrounding area?”
An amused smile played about his lips. “Yes, she has. Though, I must insist that you call me Sebastian. ‘Mr. Templeton’ sounds far too serious.” He laughed pleasantly, his tawny eyes crinkling slightly in the corners, while an endearing dimple creased his smooth left cheek to accentuate his pleasure.
Had this been the first time we’d ever met, I expect that I would have welcomed his offer – after all, it was refreshingly different to the contrived pomp I was accustomed to at the manor. But instead, as I recalled our encounter that morning, his present sincerity and likability only utterly confused me.
What had happened to TEMPTN: the cretin who had run me off the road and then, minutes later, driven off seemingly without a care?
The man standing before me displayed none of his traits.
In fact, apart from physical likeness, the man standing before me bore scant resemblance to TEMPTN at all – which would have been a good thing if it hadn’t meant that I would feel so conflicted about him.
Something told me that I would need to be careful around him. Very careful.
But before I could contemplate it further, my aunt’s laughter called me back to the present – where I stood within a few feet of Sebastian, staring at him vacantly.
Cheeks burning, I promptly seated myself in a nearby wingback chair. I was certain that my distracted behaviour had not gone unnoticed, and so was bracing myself for my aunt’s interrogation when an angel in the form of Rona swept into the room to save me. I watched as she deftly made her way around the room, her willowy figure graceful and self-assured, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy at her composure.
That is, until she served Sebastian.
There was a marked change in her demeanour as she addressed him, and I found myself transfixed by the tremble of her hands and the quaver in her voice. I was torn between feeling horrified and relieved at the fact that I wasn’t the only person who was so affected by his presence.
And then, recalling our earlier conversation and her unexpected revelation, I was struck with an epiphany. Now, her words made perfect sense – it was Sebastian who had enchanted her.
As she turned her attention to me I strained to catch her eye, but she studiously avoided me. I was desperate to confirm my suspicions, but was left with only my deliberations as she quietly took leave.
For a moment, the room was quiet as we each sipped our tea. I diligently avoided engaging my aunt by tracing the rim of the delicate porcelain cup with my eyes, focusing on the floral pattern. All the while, I chanted a silent prayer that Rona’s interlude had been enough to make my aunt forget my preoccupied behaviour – but for the second time today, my prayers went unanswered.
As my aunt returned her cup to its saucer, I felt her calculating gaze bore into my skull. “Breanna, are you unwell? I must say you are quite preoccupied today. Not at all yourself.” Her tone and expression were reminiscent of a principal chiding an errant pupil.
“No, I’m perfectly fine,” I assured her, unleashing my most convincing smile before taking another sip of tea.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Though you should know that while you were delayed, Sebastian expressed his keen desire to explore the nearby hinterland by bicycle. I, of course, told him that I should dearly have loved to accompany him had I not been so limited of late by my horridly aching back. However I expect that you would be delighted to join him since you are very fond of riding, and – oh, my dear!”
She failed to finish her account as the shock and horror brought about by her suggestion propelled me to unceremoniously choke on my tea. The reflexive force sent the hot liquid trickling down my chin, and dribbling onto the saucer.
I was mortified. Would my humiliation in front of this man never end?
Rona started towards me with a napkin, intending to offer her assistance – but was never afforded the opportunity. Sebastian’s reflexive chivalry beat her to it.
He reached me within three strides, smoothly taking the cup and saucer from my shaking hands and replacing them with a crisp handkerchief that was embroidered with an unusual circular insignia and his initials. I accepted the handkerchief from him gratefully, dabbing my face with as much dignity as I could muster in the circumstances. As I did so, I noticed the most wonderful fragrance. I surreptitiously inhaled, trying to identify the scent: it was clean and fresh – like salt air and freshly cut timber. I found it invigorating.
I was unsure as to the appropriate protocol regarding returning borrowed handkerchiefs; however, since Sebastian had resumed his seat, I decided that it may be best for me to retain, and thus discreetly tucked it into my pocket.
The room was once again quiet. I tentatively looked up to find my aunt regarding Sebastian speculatively, while he offered me an empathetic smile. I immediately averted my eyes, allowing my gaze to wander the room as my mind clambered for something remotely intelligent to say. However, my discomfort was short lived as Sebastian broke the awkward silence by humorously recounting a recent misadventure of his in Tokyo.
His attempt to diffuse the tension was heartily rewarded as my aunt launched into uncharacteristic peals of laughter. “Oh, Sebastian, that is simply too much!” She dabbed at her eyes delicately, her face unusually animated as she turned to me. “Wouldn’t you agree, Breanna? We shall always remember this story!”
Surprised by her atypically high spirits, I found myself cheerfully nodding, despite my earlier reservations and vows of restraint.
Encouraged by my reaction, Sebastian jovially addressed me. “Well, I’m glad that my misfortune was so entertaining for you, Ms. Spencer. You know, I have a few other ridiculous tales I could tell you, if you’d care to join me on my travels this week.”
As he spoke, he leaned forward ever so slightly that, had I not been so acutely aware of him, I may not have noticed. Our eyes locked, and the same commanding magnetism I had experienced that morning engulfed me. It captivated every particle of my being, drawing me to him.
A remote part of my mind alerted me to the absurdity of the moment; to the oddity of the fact that everything else fell away; and to the alarming compulsion that I should yield to him. Instinctively I closed my eyes, and the result was instantaneous: my mind was flooded with autonomous, coherent thought; bringing relief like straining lungs that could suddenly draw breath.
I opened my eyes slowly, bracing myself against the mental onslaught I had come to expect though I remained unsure of its source. But as our eyes locked once more, nothing happened. Supposing this to be my triumph, I smirked. “Weren’t we dropping the formalities, Sebastian?”
His lips curved into an amused smile. “Ah,
touché. My sincerest apologies, Breanna.”
Despite myself, I thrilled at the way his rich voice and lilting accent spoke my name like a caress, and was grateful that my aunt chose that exact moment to reclaim control of the conversation. It afforded me an opportunity to quietly observe him as she painstakingly interrogated him about his life under the guise of genteel curiosity.
However, Sebastian was entirely unperturbed, displaying only ease and cordiality as he fielded my aunt’s numerous, and often shallow, enquiries. He had a masterful command of language – the proverbial courtier’s tongue – his responses artful, and filled with flattery; but I found myself wary of his nebulous replies that often contained little substance. I perceived that I knew scarcely more about him at the end of the exchange than I had prior to it – with the exception that his narratives reeked of a man born to privilege, and thus entirely failed to improve my opinion of him.
On the other hand, my aunt was enchanted. Sebastian’s implied old money pedigree delighted her, and indeed increased tenfold upon her learning that he was single. I squirmed at her delight, my feelings rapidly turning to horror as her curiosity piqued to the point of impropriety.
“Now Sebastian, may I be so bold as to enquire why you haven’t found a suitable young lady to settle down with? You’re a handsome, educated young man and clearly have considerable means. Surely, it must be your choice?”
Although I wanted to cringe at her indecency, I managed to maintain my composure as I turned to look at him. Despite my better judgment, I was curious to hear his response.
And he offered it freely. “Yes, it is my choice; though it’s one I wish I didn’t have to make quite so often in order to avoid those with superficial intentions – as I’m sure you’d understand, Mrs. March.”
My aunt, clearly ignorant of his subtle jibe, gushed her agreement. “Oh yes. And it’s most encouraging to hear you say so, Sebastian. So many privileged young men give little consideration to the complications arising from unsuitable associations. Indeed, I had to be very careful of them in my day. Thankfully, my dear Wilfred was a man of consequence and our families were able to celebrate our match. The same could not be said for my poor, unfortunate, young sister who simply ruined herself by marrying a man of no consequence. It broke my poor father’s heart, you know. He was never the same.”
My blood boiled; I could barely believe what I had just heard. Incensed by my aunt’s bigoted condemnation of my mother and father, I launched to my feet with the intention of severely reproaching her, when Rona caught my eye. Her expression was sympathetic, but her eyes implored me to remain calm. She, too, was familiar with my aunt’s stiff-necked pretention, but endured it for the sake of her employment.
I also knew that the security of her position was exceptionally reliant on the return business generated by favourable guest experiences – of which my current choice of conduct would play a part. And so with a steadying breath, I tersely excused myself on the grounds of feeling suddenly unwell, and strode out of the parlour to the office.
Fuming, I flung open the office door, grabbed my worn copy of Jane Eyre, and threw myself into my favourite reading chair. I felt my anger slowly subside as I lost myself in Brontë’s nineteenth century England; but as the daylight faded, my stomach grumbled its displeasure at having missed lunch, and heartily warned me that skipping dinner was not an option.
Reluctantly, I got up to check the time, and was surprised to discover that dinner service was due to start within minutes. It was typical for Rona and Mary to serve drinks and canapés after five, and I wondered at the fact that I had been left to my leisure for the entirety of the afternoon. As if summoned by my thoughts, there was a tentative tap on the door and Mary popped in to check if I would be attending this evening’s dinner service. After eagerly confirming that I would, I returned with her to the dining hall.
Upon entering the hall, I was surprised to find that I was the first to arrive – and that only two places had been set at the sprawling dining table. Oddly, neither was at the head of the table as was the place typically occupied by my aunt. Instead, they were intimately set on opposing sides of one end. My stomach tightened as I stood beside my customary place, staring at the settings. I was torn between immediately fleeing, and staying to satisfy my avid curiosity about our guest.
Just as I was about to enquire after my aunt, the chair beside me was drawn out smoothly and Sebastian’s appealing voice invited me to sit down. My heart fluttered nervously, and I frowned at my body’s instinctive response to him. I thanked him tersely as I rigidly took my seat, while he gracefully seated himself opposite me with a warm smile.
On cue, Mary entered, attending to our drinks and announcing that our entrées would soon be served. As she left the room, I reached for my wine, praying that it wouldn’t be long until our meals arrived to fill the current void in conversation.
All the while, Sebastian studied me openly.
I silently congratulated myself as I managed to sip my wine and return the glass to the table without incident. It was no minor feat given my actions this morning; and as I spied Sebastian’s amused smile, I suspected he had drawn a similar conclusion.
“I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better, Breanna. It’s been quite an eventful day, and I was concerned that perhaps our encounter this morning had left you unwell.”
I stiffened. So he had recognised me.
My tone was caustic as the repressed emotions of the morning resurfaced. “Perhaps you should be more concerned about your driving, Sebastian. You know, there are children and tourists around here that aren’t as familiar with these roads as I am. It’s just lucky that you ran across me and not them, as they may not have fared so well.”
His smile vanished.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, and I really am sorry about this morning. It’s no excuse for what happened, but I want you to know that it was exceptionally out of character for me. I understand if you think badly of me, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d give me a chance to change your mind.”
The sincerity of his contrition pierced me, but there was something else – a subtle undercurrent of urgency that I couldn’t justify. The absurdity of it led me to conclude that Sebastian was quite unlike anyone else I’d ever met; and without thinking, I blurted, “You’re so unusual.”
He physically started at my words.
“Excuse me?” he said silkily, though I noted how his eyes tightened.
My pulse quickened as I struggled to suppress the burning conviction of my earlier statement in the hopes of contriving some sort of polite response; but my efforts were in vain – the feeling wouldn’t be denied.
“You’re unusual,” I repeated, hoping my cordial tone disguised my suspicion as a polite observation. I unconsciously leaned forward to study his reaction, and to his credit he didn’t shy away from my scrutiny.
Instead, he laughed, but I again noted how the humour didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure that I understand what you mean by that,” he maintained.
I swallowed nervously, unsure of where I was going with this, but presented with no other option than to voice my truth. “I mean it literally. There’s something unique about you.”
His smile faded as he realised I wouldn’t be easily dissuaded. He rested his arms on the table and leaned toward me to unleash the full intensity of his tawny gaze. “Perhaps you could explain what you mean by unique? Do you mean foreign?”
Once again, I was lost in his eyes. My thoughts scrambled and I was flooded with a yearning to agree with his explanation. The impulse was enchantingly persuasive, though I couldn’t rationalise it with any belief of my own. It crooned to me like the sweetest lover.
Say yes.
But then, another force came – a contradiction so powerful that it burst from every fibre of my being, and my mind was seared with the most intense pain I have ever felt. My
hands flew to my head, clawing and crushing my temples. At that moment, it seemed that my brain split into two parts – a dominant part that yearned to agree with him; and another that stanchly refused.
It was utter chaos.
I wanted to agree with him, didn’t I? So, why couldn’t I say yes?
A remote part of me heard a desperate cry, but I was so divorced from reality that I failed to recognise it as my own. Instead, I was consumed with fusing myself, molecule-by-molecule, to the dissent that bespoke my will.
I was unsure if a second, a minute, or an hour had passed, but eventually I managed to claw back my mental sovereignty. Although I recovered my senses, they were blurred, and my head throbbed mercilessly. Rivulets of sweat coursed down my back and I was overcome by such lethargy that even breathing was a chore. The room lurched as I attempted to open my eyes, and I felt myself falling, however I was simply too spent to fight anymore.
It felt like I fell forever. Tendrils of my hair tickled my face as the waves of vertigo pounded me – and then, quite unexpectedly, there was warmth.
Warmth. And weightlessness. And safety.
My instincts pleaded with me to surrender to unconsciousness, but I defied them. I was determined to figure out what was going on, and although my eyelids felt like dumbbells, I forced them open.
I was in his arms.
I couldn’t see or hear any other thing – only his concerned face and gentle voice filled my senses; and in a whisper so soft that I wondered if I imagined it, he crooned, “It’s alright, Breanna. I’ve got you, just rest.”
I closed my eyes and started to drift, but was stirred by a gentle observation.
I think it is you, who is unique.
Groggily, I wondered at his meaning. I struggled vainly to form the words I needed to express, but my mouth felt like it was filled with sawdust. The result was a garbled, “Why’m I‘nique?”
He stiffened. “Excuse me?” he said, his muted voice strained.
It was hard to swallow, and I battled against my foggy mind that still lured me toward unconsciousness. Licking my lips, I croaked, “Why am I unique?”
His muscles tightened, but he didn’t reply. The gentle sway of his gait lulled me, and through my haze I heard him tell Mary that I would need a cool compress for my head.
I continued to drift in and out of consciousness, vaguely noting when his warm embrace was replaced by my cool soft bedcovers, and I again felt his gentle prompting.
Sleep, Breanna.
It was the sweetest suggestion, and I was flooded with feelings of peace and contentment. To struggle against it would be futile, and so I released myself to the darkness.
III – Imaginary: Anomaly