by Marian Phair
Old John came in late one evening, looking tired and worn. Instead of going to bed, he sat down on a stool in the chimney corner and lit his pipe. He sat gazing thoughtfully into the flames of the fire that John-Joe had built up for him. The boy lay sleeping in the next room, unaware that his friend and saviour had returned home.
What was it the doctor had called it? Old John struggled to remember. He heard nothing more past the words, ‘I am sorry, there is nothing we can do for you. If you had come to us sooner, maybe we could have operated, but it has gone too far.’
Six months tops, he had told him, six months to sort out his affairs before he went to meet his maker. He had so many things planned, that he still had not done, so many places he still wished to see. Now, that could not happen, his priority was to see the boy was taken care of.
In the three months they had lived and worked together, old John had found, in the boy, the son he never had, nor never would have.
He had made an appointment with his solicitor, planning to leave everything he had to the boy, but he wanted more than that. He wanted him to have his name, done legal and proper. If the boy was willing, he wanted to adopt him. He had to do it very soon, whilst his mind was unclouded. He must arrange for someone to look out for the boy after he himself had passed on. The ideal couple would be Sean and Millie. He would have to take them into his confidence, but he did not want anyone else to know of his affairs.
With a sigh, he rose, knocking out his pipe on the side of the hearth. Going over to the cupboard in the corner he took out the small cardboard box he kept his paper in. Withdrawing a sheet, he reached for a pen and started to write. If only his head did not hurt so, he could think more clearly, he muttered to himself, before putting the date at the top of the page. Then, taking his time, he wrote as carefully as his trembling hand would allow.
‘This is the last will and testimony, of John Joseph McNally.’
I, John Joseph McNally, being of sound mind and body… (Sound mind and body,) that’s a laugh, he thought. The pain in his head was getting worse, best to go to bed now he could finish this tomorrow, maybe he would feel a little better after a night’s sleep.
He took the storm lamp into the bedroom, and sitting on the edge of his bed, removed his boots, placing them carefully side by side underneath it. Then, as was his nightly custom, he knelt at the foot of the bed to offer up his prayers.
The boy found him there in the morning, still knelt in prayer.
Old John had gone to meet his maker.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
It was very warm outside and with barely a breeze to stir the trees, the smoke from the fire hung in the still air. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked disturbing the silence as Amie knelt at the tiny graveside and placed fresh flowers in the vase. Today she did not linger, she was going out to lunch with Lord Craig Harding. Over the past few months he had shown her nothing but kindness and understanding.
When Amie had fully recovered, he had taken her under his wing, insisting she stay at the ‘big house’ and since she had nowhere else to go, she stayed. Tired of having nothing to do all day, and needing to get on with her life, to find employment and independence, she made her feelings known to him. He had ‘hired’ her as supervisor over the gardens on the estate. Amie could hold her head up once more, earning her keep and enjoying what she was doing.
The days had turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. She had been living here for almost six months now, and as the days passed she had grown closer to her employer.
There was a strange attraction between them and Amie did not know what drew them together. She did not care, he was handsome, charming, and through him she had learnt to laugh again.
“I have a surprise for you,” Craig told Amie, as they strolled together, through the garden, admiring the roses.
“Oh, and what’s that?” she asked.
“Well if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise now would it?” he laughed, teasing her.
“Then, why tell me in the first place? You just like to tease me,” she smiled at him.
“Okay, I will come clean; it is your birthday on Saturday. Never mind how I found out,” he said, pressing his fingers to her lips to prevent her talking,
I am holding a ball in your honour, everyone has been invited so you will have to put on your best bib and tucker and enjoy your party.”
“But I don’t like crowds of people Craig, I don’t know if I am ready for this,” Amie said chewing at her bottom lip.
“You won’t know, will you?, until you try and anyway, I will be there to rescue you, if you feel you are being thrown to the lions.” He laughed out loud at the look on her face, “come on, it will be fun, you’ll see, you need to meet people and to socialize you can’t stay hidden away forever.”
Their eyes met and suddenly he bent his head, brushing his lips lightly across hers. Amie felt a flutter in her chest, her cheeks reddening. She felt so close to him and wondered if she was she falling in love with the handsome Lord.
The hairdresser had done a great job, arranging her short curly hair. In her pale blue ball gown Amie stood looking at her reflection in the long mirror. Amie thought she looked older than her twenty years. She wished her hair would hurry up and grow, she did not like it this short, but there was nothing could be done about that, other than wear a wig. Amie smiled at the thought.
There was a knock on her door, it opened and Craig walked in wearing an immaculate tuxedo. His blonde hair was sleeked back from his forehead, not in its usual unruly style. Looking Amie up and down, he gave her a slow wolf whistle. She laughed when he licked his lips and rubbed his hands together, making as if to eat her.
“If I could whistle, I would return the compliment so would you settle for a ‘wow’ instead?” she asked him, as he took her arm and led her from the room.
Getting over her initial shyness with the help of a glass or two of champagne, Amie opened up, allowing herself to be led on the dance floor time and time again, by different partners and enjoying all the attention she was getting. She was dancing with a young man, who had a bad case of acne when they were interrupted by Craig. He swept her into his arms and spun her around the dance floor in a lively polka, until her head was spinning and she was breathless.
They went out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air.
“I have another surprise for you,” Craig told her, “I have had it taken up to your rooms.”
“What is it?” Amie asked, “You are spoiling me you know, a girl could get used to this.”
She waited for him to answer, admiring his face in the light from the ballroom. He certainly was a catch for some lucky lady.
“It is your grandmother’s trunk, remember, the one you told me had been put into storage, well, I sent for it and it was delivered yesterday. I kept it hidden, and then had it put in your rooms a little while ago, I hope you are pleased.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Amie said, “I had forgotten all about it and no longer have the key for it as so much has happened since then.”
“No problem, we can get a locksmith to open it for you or I can use my trusty crowbar.” She stood next to him in silence, gazing out into the blackness of the gardens.
“Do you like it here Amie, are you happy?”
Craig turned his head to look at her, admiring her profile, as she spoke.
“I’m as happy as I will ever be I guess, why do you ask?”
“Because it is important to me,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I feel a strong attraction to you and I think you do for me. I can feel it, this thing between us,” he mused, “is it love I wonder? I don’t know I have never been in love before, so I have nothing to base my feelings for you on. I know you make me very happy, and I know I love having you around. I missed you terribly when I had to go away for a few days. I just can’t get you out of my head.”
Amie turned her head to look at him. He was standing so close that before she realised it was happe
ning, she was in his arms. Craig bent his head as his lips sought hers, opening her mouth to his exploring tongue. They moved apart, breathless, as another couple came out onto the balcony.
Craig lit a cigarette and leant on the rail as he smoked, not looking at her. “Well that was something else; it never felt like that when I kissed other women, I must be falling for you my lovely Amie, what do you think?”
“I don’t know, I feel very close to you, your kiss thrilled me too,” she admitted, “so, where do we go from here?”
Amie did not know what to say to him. She knew she did not love him, at least not in the way she had loved Ralph Newman. There was no fiery passion in her feelings for Lord Craig Harding, but she was very fond of him. She felt a strong attraction to him, something more than just friendship and his kiss had set up a longing in her to be held and caressed by a man once more. Maybe you only fell deeply in love once in your life time, she thought, and loved in a different way when another entered your life.
“If I asked you to marry me, what would your answer be?” His question brought her out of her reverie.
“Do you really want to marry me Craig, or just bed me?” Amie asked him.
“What the hell kind of question is that, I said ‘marry,’ didn’t I?” he snapped.
“I would have to think about it, but I believe my answer would be, YES.” Amie paused for a moment or two. “Yes I would marry you, if you were to ask me.”
“Then I AM asking you,” Craig said, flicking the remains of his cigarette into the garden and taking her into his arms, holding her close against his chest.
“Amie Richardson, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
“Lord Craig Harding,” she smiled up at him, her eyes shining, “It is I who would be honoured to have you as my husband. Yes, I accept your marriage proposal.”
It all sounded very formal to her. Wasn’t the man supposed to go down on one knee and declare his undying love for her, or did that only happen in romantic novels?
Craig kissed her soundly on the lips, then grabbed her by the elbow and marched her into the ballroom. Signaling for the orchestra to stop playing, he cleared his throat, and put his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I have an announcement to make; this lovely lady by my side has just consented to be my wife.” Amid the cheers of congratulations that followed, he whispered in her ear.
“See, my darling, it is official now, everyone here knows and by tomorrow, the whole country will know.” He grinned at her, his smile as broad as the Cheshire cat’s in Alice in Wonderland.
More and more people came up to shake their hands and wish them well. The champagne flowed as the toasts were given in honour of the couple. Amie found herself getting really tipsy and swayed against Craig. If his arm had not been around her waist she would have fallen. Seeing this he quickly came to her rescue.
“It has been a long day everyone, my future bride is tired. Thank you all for your good wishes, please carry on partying, I will say goodnight to you all and thank you all for coming.” Craig tried to inject a little humour, into his speech, ever the clown. Winking broadly at the people round him, he bowed deeply before Amie, and in a loud voice asked,
“Would Madam allow me to escort her to her chambers?”
He swept her up into his arms and headed for the staircase, amid the laughter and cheers of their guests.
Craig placed the protesting Amie on her bed and bent to remove her shoes.
“Would Madam, like some help getting undressed, I have two willing hands ready to help.” He held them up for her to see, a broad grin on his face.
“No, Madam does not need your help, kind sir.”
Amie went to get off the bed, but fell back again as the room starting spinning around her.
“Well, if you are sure you can manage, I will let you get some sleep and see you in the morning,” he said kissing her lightly on the forehead and turned to go.
“Where are you going? She asked. “Please don’t leave me. I don’t feel well, the room is spinning around and I feel a little nauseous.”
“Oh, drunk too much champagne have you,” he said coming over to the bed.
“Please Craig, stay with me, Amie pleaded.”
She looked so small and vulnerable on the huge four poster bed. He did not need asking twice he removed his jacket and shoes, loosened off his bow tie and lay down beside her on the bed cradling her in his arms. In next to no time she was sleeping, her head resting on his chest.
He reached out, trying not to disturb her and turned off the bedside lamp, then settled back on the pillows. Closing his eyes, he followed her into the land of dreams.
Sometime during the night, he did not know how it happened, Craig awoke, and in the moonlight, streaming through the window, he saw her ball gown lying on the floor. Amie lay on her back, with nothing on but her panties. Craig was immediately aroused and could not help himself. Bending over her he suckled her breasts. Amie stirred, not fully awake, her mind still fuzzy from the champagne, she sighed, reaching out for him in the moonlight, kissing his eyes and his cheeks, before seeking his mouth. With a moan he was on top of her, kissing her passionately. Putting her mouth to his ear she begged him to take her.
Amie lay naked, with her eyes closed, as Craig made love to her in the moonlit bedroom, her hips rising and falling, matching his thrusts. Beads of perspiration covered both their bodies, their movements getting faster and faster, and with a cry, they climaxed together.
Craig lay on top of her, breathing heavily, not wishing to withdraw right away. After a few minutes, he rolled over onto his side and put an arm round her. Amie lay with her head on his chest, her fingers playing through the hairs, not talking, just relaxed. Contented, they snuggled up together, eventually drifting off to sleep.
Amie awoke to sunlight streaming in through the open window. Craig had already left, she could see his imprint on the pillow next to hers, reaching out she pulled it to her, burying her face into it and breathing in his scent.
Amie stretched leisurely, then rose from the bed and headed for the bathroom. Now, showered and dressed, she noticed her Grandmother’s trunk which had been placed at the foot of the bed. Kneeling she ran her hands over its worn leather surface. She would wait for a locksmith to open it as she did not want to cause any more damage to it. The trunk had taken a bit of a battering over the years. Amie wished with all her heart that Daisy could see her now, in all her finery, purchased by Craig. In a few weeks time she would be Lady Craig Harding. With a light heart she went down to take breakfast, with her new lover, her future husband.
When Amie entered the dining room Craig was already seated at the table breakfasting on eggs and bacon. Smiling he rose from his seat and pulled a chair out for her, waiting until she was seated, before taking his place at the table.
“I have matters of estate to attend to; it will take up most of the day. What will you do this morning my love?” Craig asked, without looking up from the piece of toast he was buttering.
“Oh,” Amie replied, “I thought I would take a tour of the house and familiarise myself with everything.”
“Good idea, since you will soon be mistress, it would help you to know how things are run around here. Maybe there are a few changes you would like to make yourself. Well have fun; I will catch up with you later.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips and left her to finish her breakfast alone.
After phoning a locksmith, Amie wandered around the mansion, loving the fact that although it had all the modern facilities, nearly all of the original features had been retained by all the generations of Harding’s. She admired the paneling along the walls, the wide wooden floorboards and high ornate ceilings. Beautiful marble fireplaces were in almost every room. Magnificent crystal chandeliers hung in the huge dining room and continued into the ballroom, and up the imposing staircase. Large portraits of former Lords and Ladies covered the walls, sharing space with pa
intings of landscapes. The library, with its floor to ceiling shelves lined with books, was her favourite room. She could spend hours in here, browsing through the hundreds of books all placed in order of content. Whole collections standing like little soldiers in neat rows, reached up to the high ornate ceiling.
Amie went out into the garden, with its flower beds and well kept lawns and fountains. Heading for the pond, she crossed the large wooden bridge that spanned it and into the wooded area on the other side. She entered the small Chapel where, in three weeks time, she was to be married. She sat in a pew near the altar, and said a prayer of thanks for finding happiness again, in the arms of a man who truly loved her and for the safe haven he had provided.
On returning to the Mansion, Amie was met by the locksmith who had just arrived. He was removing his tool box from his vehicle, when Amie crossed the lawn to meet him. Amie escorted the locksmith to her bedroom, where her grandmother’s trunk had been taken.
He knelt in front of the trunk, studying the lock, his tool kit opened on the floor beside it.
“I will have this opened for you in no time,” he said, “but you won’t be able to lock it up again. I could replace this old lock with a modern one, but there would be a large indentation around it. They don’t make locks like this anymore you know.”
“No, I don’t suppose they would do.” she replied, “I won’t mind if I can’t relock it. I just want it opened.”
Amie paid him and waited until he had left, before returning to her rooms. She lifted the lid, sitting crossed-legged on the floor and started to go through her grandmothers things. She found various photos that had faded over the years, but could barely make out the features on them. In a collection of old newspaper cuttings, the top one carried the story of her parent’s death. There were several small mementos, including a tiny pair of baby shoes, Amie thought of her own dead baby, as she held them in her hand, and with a sigh she placed them carefully to one side. Some memories were just too painful.
