Journey's End (Marlbrook)

by Carroll, Bernadette

Laura shared the exhilaration of his first sea voyage, deriving joy as the Boston shoreline had come into sight. Alongside him, she too conquered land and sea.

  Eventually, Thomas had become dissatisfied with the nomadic life and the challenges had waned. In a world where only the vigilant survived, he accepted that his indifference would have dug his early grave.

  At thirty-and-three years of age, his birthplace would serve as his refuge. He had returned home a wealthy man and would now transform the estate.

  Laura held her detour to account for a great deal. Unclothed, she lay entwined in a man’s embrace while he placed his life’s private details on display. Intimacy of this nature, Laura discovered, had proved to be a treasured find. With strong arms cradling her, she made a secret declaration. She did not entirely dislike the situation.

  “And you, madam. What secrets do you keep?”

  “You, sir, would soon tire of my stories and may even be tempted to make fun at my expense. What woman would voluntarily open herself to such ridicule?”

  Laura held back, the tales she brought to the fore were uninspired. None of that had anything to do with Thomas; the complexity belonged to Laura.

  From a young age, Laura’s mother had encouraged traits in her daughter that the world did not always congratulate or condone. Laura often wondered if it were these peculiarities that had caused her eviction from her mother’s home.

  Laura’s mother, Annie, had been a woman of circumstance. Bound by a union contrived to please others, Annie had married Laura’s father, a man double in years to her own. Her husband had held a prominent place in the community, one that called for honour; her dowry had no doubt increased his public standing. Laura viewed her father as cruel, a man barren of any concept of respect. Tears had not fallen and his passing had left no mark of debt to interfere with a young girl’s thought. However, he was not so forgiving. The grave did not cease the habits of a lifetime and, upon his death, his wife and child had been evicted from their home; a faceless brood taking their place. Charles Jennings had punished his wife for not producing his son and Laura for being born. Nevertheless, despite her father’s attempts to the contrary, their days had remained happy and tranquil until the burden of duty again ruined everything. Annie had married Sarah’s father. A man of substantial wealth, Sarah’s father lacked courage, waiting for the marriage seal before revealing his true hand. The vows uttered, the subject of Laura had come to an end. Sorrow had led to heartbreak. Earl Townsend had selected Laura’s new school for its isolation; Laura had been five years old at the time.

  In retrospect, it had been this callous deed that had plunged her mother into darkness – Annie Townsend had simply given up. Sarah’s birth had failed to make whole a woman disconcerted by life, and within five short years, there would be nothing to keep the kind soul from passing in her sleep.

  The past had shaped Laura, yet what she declared to her audience absolved the past. The truth remained untold.

  “Madam,” Thomas began, “disclosure is good for the soul, but my admission, I am afraid, may enrage. I have shared intimate moments with you, and no man or woman that treads this earth knows more of my life. You are indeed a rare woman to have drawn these private details from me.”

  Thomas’ complimentary remarks were an attempt at humour, but instead he fuelled Laura’s confusion. Laura’s heart beat erratically, the telltale thumps boldly displaying her latest crisis. Laura used wit to distract her errant thoughts.

  “You are flattering me, sir. I would wager that the milkmaids hereabouts are told that very same story.” Laura’s humorous rebuff had a grin in tow, but with the cessation of sound, Laura felt Thomas tense. His body, enfolding hers, announced its manly intentions, and the silence threatened to engulf them.

  Thomas spoke, but his words did little to ease Laura’s distress.

  “Yesterday, when I found you in my apartment, I admit that you placed me in a difficult predicament. I remain mystified as to how you could have walked into my life and profoundly affected me so.”

  Defeated, Laura’s world began spiralling inward.

  Thomas persevered, unaware of his success. “I sent you from my home in order to feed my own sense of importance, having convinced myself that I had your best interests at heart. Things did not go as I planned, leaving me to curse my self-centred actions. I searched for you to apologise.”

  Thomas did not include his real motive for removing Laura from his home; he could see no point in tarnishing Henry’s good name.

  Gentle hands captured and caressed Laura’s face, their warmth a precursor to the full lips that searched for hers, determined in their quest.

  With his tender touch, Thomas plunged Laura into the unknown before elevating her to new heights. Had she been standing, she might have swooned. Laura became lost in romance, silent in the dark.

  Armed with the insight that Laura had joined him in desire, Thomas grew bolder, his actions drowning them in ecstasy. Thomas no longer governed his responses, but he had an imperative need for Laura to free him from uncertainty.

  “Laura, if we are to go no further, I beg of you to demand this of me now, before it is too late.”

  Laura fought to vanquish the unfamiliar hunger that gnawed at her depths, but the intensity of Thomas’ expression united with passion to rob her of any such hope.

  Laura’s silence gave Thomas his answer.

  Deliberate in its leisure, Thomas’ mouth again sought Laura’s and the kiss, a long slow meeting, made the pit of Laura’s stomach wrench.

  Thomas’ hands, bound by affection, were mindful of Laura’s needs but unwilling to deviate from their course. The essence of Laura added tenderness to his response, and her body, in all its glory, granted him delight.

  The initial contact made Laura flinch. She was conscious of Thomas’ caresses, and his lips were relied upon to stay her nagging doubt.

  Thomas’ actions increased in confidence, a mere petticoat no barrier, as he bared Laura’s breasts to his touch. Large calloused hands sketched the outline of the precious mounds before cupping them in their grasp. His craving was physical and overrode thought. Had he been in position, he would have taken Laura there and then, his body arching of its own accord, rehearsing what was to come.

  Thomas’ mouth encompassed Laura’s nipple, drawing it into its heat, his tongue teasing. Thomas trembled with rapture, Laura’s responses spurring him on. He shifted his weight. One hand travelled the length of Laura’s long limbs before gently coaxing her thighs apart. He fought to resist the incredible impulse to probe inside her private territory, a place he longed to abide.

  Thomas kissed Laura as only a lover could while positioning himself in readiness to penetrate her warm depths, the compulsion to enter her was intense - God, the sole witness to the strength of his want.

  Dark eyes embraced Laura, the final hurdle before they became one, and it came as no surprise when he confronted the look that both curbed and inflamed his desire. Thomas beheld the woman he loved, and in all conscience could not condemn her to a life of regret.

  Thomas remained entwined, acknowledging the experience of mourning. Censure rightfully fell upon him, and his behaviour could cost him dearly. Inexperienced, Laura’s suffering showed, but Thomas loved her all the more for registering her honesty. That they were both willing partners was apparent, and this awareness suspended any words Thomas might have considered uttering.

  Impact took time to occur. Laura lay uncaring, as she scanned the scene. She strove to make sense of what had just taken place.

  Fragments of thought circulated in her mind, and her eyes brimmed with pools of liquid. Laura's body cried out for more.

  The beauty of their union, and the loss of fulfilment, had left the lovers needy, conflict a new entrant upon the scene.

  Laura could hear Thomas speak, but she lacked awareness. Heightened senses demanded taming, the loading of her disgrace a private assignment. Laura plunged headlong into distress, and Thomas became a bystander
to her suffering.

  Thomas began not to apologise, but to ask Laura to forgive herself. His knowledge far outweighed hers, and he determined that this would be her hardest task.

  Inwardly, Thomas groaned, as the possible consequences of his behaviour confronted him. Laura could have been placed in threat of a child. His conduct obliged him to re-examine his principles, the case taking on a moral as well as a physical aspect.

  As they made to depart, words did not present themselves - there were none. Laura looked away as Thomas leaned forward to help her mount his horse, his hand extended in support to a beneficiary blind to his concern.

  Laura fought for self-possession. The caretaker had entered her narrow world and wrenched it apart. What nature decreed to happen between a man and a woman her guardians had omitted from her education, but natural instincts told Laura that they had not completed the act.

  Laura salvaged little consolation from her insight, and the knowledge afforded her nowhere to offload blame. She turned upon herself for the wanton abandonment she had demonstrated, and a wave of physical sickness descended upon her. In her own mind, she could be branded a whore, for the difference appeared slight. Laura had wanted Thomas just as intensely as he had wanted her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE - Time

  “Miss Townsend,” Lady Catherine began, “I understand more than you realise, and I will not tolerate any poor behaviour while your sister is absent.”

  Sarah merely nodded. She had to accept that the only reason she would be tolerated at Marlbrook was due to the spinster of a sister she had inherited.

  Lady Catherine’s arrival had been accompanied by all the splendour and formality that one would expect when welcoming home a Lady and her entourage. Sarah had travelled from London in the company of her Ladyship, thrilled to have been chosen for the role. However, it had not taken Sarah long to discover the pitfalls that went with that selection. Lady Catherine was an old woman with stale comments and lectures that bored.

  #

  The butler entered the morning room, a serious frown engraved upon his wrinkled features.

  “Lady Catherine, it appears that Lord Ashley has taken in the young lady.”

  “Thank you, Jenkins. With my son making his way back to the city, the timing of the situation is most unfortunate.”

  “Shall I organise the carriage and fetch her myself, ma’am?”

  “No – I have need of you here. Send the sister. She is of no use to me at present.”

  News of Laura’s delay provided an unexpected bonus for Sarah. She had delivered a believable performance as a dutiful, loving sister, expressing concern without appearing overly emotional. She would rescue Laura from her unfortunate predicament, and the truth that she would also get away from the stifling company of her Ladyship, and her dreary household, would remain her little secret.

  Seated in the comfort of her Ladyship’s favourite carriage, Sarah cast her eyes fleetingly over the boring scenery and a shrill laugh echoed in the quiet. The joke had suddenly dawned on her, and she found it quite hilarious. Laura, although over five years her senior, obviously required guidance to fulfil her own wants, let alone play sentry to her sister. And a sweet smile emerged that served to hide the bleakness of Sarah’s character.

  #

  The rain had abated and the sun shone with spectacular brilliance, when it deemed to shine, donating an eerie, yellow tinged slant to everything natural or man made. Lord Henry toyed with his whip – he was not amused. Thomas had hauled him from his bed the previous day, spouting stories of some hell-bent notion of rescuing the woman, Laura, from something. Lord Henry failed to remember just what that something was. His mind had been clouded with sleep and his interest insufficiently stirred.

  Dutifully, Lord Henry had waited for Thomas to return. He had exercised forbearance and had extended his personal boundaries, but patience was not his strong point and one day spent alone, without any distractions, he considered to be quite enough. Nothing could entice him to stay in a place devoid of companionship and barren of the basics of life.

  Laura had been the sole draw card. A connoisseur of the fairer sex, Lord Henry could determine when a woman was worth sampling, but even she could not hold him here. Laura would be waiting for him at Marlbrook, and he duly looked forward to the amusement that particular campaign would bring.

  Lord Henry mounted his horse, the beast exhibiting identical impatience to that of its master. His departure had taken place barely ten minutes before Sarah’s carriage passed through the Manor gates.

  #

  Sarah detested the place on sight. Laura was nowhere to be found. Her sister’s inconsideration replenished her irritation and signalled the beginning of Sarah’s resentment. That feeling might have been sustained and plummeted Sarah into a bout of fury had the driver not volunteered his services. Pleased with his contribution, Sarah deemed her duty discharged.

  With Laura relegated to past thoughts, Sarah sought to find a way into the Manor. She found the hovel disgusting, the inside a reflection of the desolate exterior. Sympathy momentarily surfaced for her sister’s distress. To have had to tolerate these conditions, was abysmal in Sarah’s consideration.

  Locating Laura’s travelling cases had not taken Sarah long. Stacked neatly in a corner of the kitchen, Laura’s decrepit belongings were instantly recognisable.

  Under duress, Sarah undertook the climb to the first floor. Contempt mounted for the owners, as the spectre of her father and his faults stepped forward.

  In one partially decontaminated room, Sarah located the portrait of a woman whose lifeless image managed to capture her interest. Sarah commended beauty, forever mindful of the influence that came alongside.

  Undeniably this doe-eyed woman would have ruled the men in her life. Raven hair complemented pure white skin, the ruby-red material of her dress providing an exquisite contrast. Jewels, in particular the expensive gems that decorated the woman’s delicate hand, had been captured to perfection, a jeweller’s pedestal no match for the elegance of a dainty finger.

  Sarah moved closer, re-examining one of the precious items at close quarters. She trusted her senses. Something was not right. Filtering through carefully stored material, she sought answers but they were not as she supposed. Lady Catherine, it appeared, shared a common bond with this horrid place. Secreted away, stored between her Ladyship’s large bosom, hung this very ring.

  Why a Lady of such great standing would involve herself with these ruins, let alone associate herself with them in an intimate way, puzzled Sarah, but Sarah adored mysteries for it was always worth trifling with them – discreetly of course.

  A large, grimy window overlooking the courtyard announced Laura’s imminent arrival. Envy fragmented Sarah’s insides. The man sat straight upon his mount, his dark hair in abundance about a strong, imposing face. Laura’s unprotected hands, white against the black of his winter coat, were attached to arms wrapped firmly around his waist. A second horse, tethered to the first, trotted mindlessly behind. Laura must have chosen to ride with the stranger. That Sarah was not the centre of attention did not sit well with her.

  Sarah had reached the downstairs area by the time the horses came to a standstill near the stables. Upon greeting them, she immediately inundated Laura with reports of Marlbrook. Laura’s distracted condition was completely lost on Sarah.

  “Laura. How wonderful to find you safe and well. We have looked for you in earnest, and I had begun to face the awful prospect that you may have met with some misfortune.” Sarah did not stop for breath. “You would not believe what I have had to put up with to be here.”

  To Sarah’s credit, she feigned a sisterly peck on Laura’s cheek before she continued her barrage of conversation – about herself.

  Laura was untroubled by Sarah’s constant prattle, thankful to her for removing any necessity to converse.

  As the caretaker, Thomas met his obligations and gave a believable rendition of events. His story appeared credible, as Sarah dis
played little curiosity about the event.

  Lord Henry presented a more complex problem. His silence would not be so easily bought. However, upon reaching the stables, Thomas found the stall empty. Lord Henry’s absence would at least alleviate one of Laura's concerns.

  Laura retired to the house to change her clothes before departing. Thanking Thomas was beyond her present capabilities.

  Laura observed the driver as he transported the last of her trunks to the carriage. As she made her way to the kitchen door, sentiment overwhelmed Laura and she could only equate the sensation to that of saying goodbye to a dear friend for the last time. A shudder went through her, severing her thoughts. With haste, Laura stepped into the sunlight in an attempt to escape the emotional stronghold.

  Never again would Laura presume her tomorrows or permit herself to speculate on future plans. They had not spoken. Laura supposed Thomas had nothing to say.

  The carriage began its journey, venturing down the winding trail. The vehicle passed giant stone attendants, charged with guarding the Manor gates and beyond, as if erasing Laura's existence before setting her back on the course she had originally deviated from.

  Laura’s body mounted an insurrection, as her mind coerced her to see. For a moment, she had the ability to glance into her future. Her days would be dark and her nights put to use to renew the memories of their intimacy. Her concentration would centre on the possible future that she had left behind.

  Lord Thomas Ashley watched as the carriage rolled out of sight, pangs of solitude emerging in its wake. Spectres, buoyed by the quiet, swarmed around him, the silence intensifying the memories of Laura in his arms.

  Thomas understood Laura’s complications. She grappled with the world between good and bad. He would have to mend the gap that had opened between them; his calling would be to formulate a way.

  Thomas turned to look at the manor with a heart in torment and a mind in disarray. He visualised his home as it had been in his childhood, when laughter had still prevailed, and he made his resolution. He had met a woman to match him in spirit and, he added, temper, and when something this right came along, he was loath to relinquish his hold. The incentive to encourage the workload was his. He would restore his history and claim a bride.