Journey's End (Marlbrook)

by Carroll, Bernadette

  Laura’s emotions were obstructed. She remembered a tender kiss, coupled with kind arms that had once welcomed her. When her emotional release came, Laura cried not for the moment but for the loss of a future. Sacrifices had been made in vain, for now no man would honour her.

  Lord Henry looked to Laura and her gentle tears. They were not the hysterical ones of his wife or indeed her sister, but silent escapes that touched him deeply. Tonight his anger had been directed at another, and in all sincerity he had not set out to harm Laura. Their meeting had been a coincidence with a tragic outcome.

  In a vain endeavour to show tenderness, Lord Henry stroked Laura’s hair. Tenderly, he brushed aside the straying tendrils of her colourless mane. Dredged with his sweat, her hair lay entangled around her ears and throat. His undertaking might have been lost on Laura but he was enthralled.

  Lord Henry covered Laura’s nakedness with his body, her gentle sobbing creating a wetness that saturated his shirt. However, instead of stilling his want, Laura’s grief opened a new crevasse, first arousing and then confusing him. Ardour replaced malice, an emotion borne of affection, and although the deed was despicable, Lord Henry entered Laura for a second time.

  For Lord Henry, sex was unhampered by responsibility or sin. His first sexual experience had been in one of the tenanted cottages that had lined the estate, mundane housing that bred discontent. The woman had been obliging in every way, ensuring his education had been thorough. Pregnancy had complicated matters, and to this day he did not know if the child was his or her husband’s. A fifteen-year-old boy did not bother with topics of that sort.

  Many women had shared his company, but all had been willing in every aspect and accepting of his carefree lifestyle. Any after-effects had been dealt with by others. He was not deliberately hard-hearted; this was just how life was, until tonight that is.

  Whatever his rendition of events, he failed to locate an excuse that would allow him a safe retreat unscathed from her presence. His final summation - all his self-searching was irrelevant. He had not strayed from his original course and damned them both.

  Lord Henry liberated Laura from his hold, the rudimentary beginnings of shame beginning to form.

  Laura registered Lord Henry’s absence and fought hard to master her thoughts. Bracing herself against the nearest chair, she managed to pull herself slowly to her feet. Specks of blood had mingled with his fluid to smear her thighs, the flowing folds of her tattered nightgown unable to hide the evidence. Pain, as yet, was an unrecognised factor.

  Laura’s eyes were dry, as she absent-mindedly tidied her hair before retrieving the book from its place of abandonment. She deposited the precious item unharmed upon the shelf, distanced from any threat of him.

  “Laura.” Lord Henry called, as she made her way to exit.

  Laura hesitated before realising that there was nothing more to be frightened of; he had already harmed her.

  The scene crushed Lord Henry’s spirit. Laura tried to hide her suffering and vulnerability from him, her shawl wrapped firmly around her fragile body. Fluid had seeped from under her gown to clearly mark the virginal whiteness of the material, as if denouncing him, and his guilt rose but had no where to go.

  “Laura! I implore you to listen to me.”

  Lord Henry made no attempt to approach Laura, his words stated from the security of half a room away. “I have seriously grieved you, and have only selfishness to blame that is derived from the world in which I live.”

  Laura’s agony had begun to demand recognition, forcing her to concede that there would be no quick way out of her abyss. To Laura’s credit the words that did eventually show themselves were extraordinary in their display of control, discipline originating from some secret place that grants strength when one faces adversity.

  Laura confronted Lord Henry. “This day you have grieved my hopes, my relationship with my sister and my self worth, not solely with your actions but also with your cruel, condemning words. I am a servant in your household rewarded for an honest day’s labour. To discover that I am worthless and command no more courtesy than you are willing to donate, does not do you, sir, or myself any credit.”

  Lord Henry tried to respond, but Laura had said all there was to say. She left him confounded and ashamed.

  Laura’s room no longer felt safe, the lock on her door not to be trusted. She sought solace from the one friend in which she could confide.

  “Life is complicated and the one thing that I can be certain of is that it will remain so. Tonight I lost my dreams, but I find it is enough for the moment that the physical hurt is over.

  The blow that is the hardest to take is that my sister shares my ruin. The pain I carry is not for my own plight, but that I have been remiss in my duty to one so young. I did not protect Sarah in her hour of need.”

  Laura made her way to her mirror and loathed the stupid, naive creature that looked back and denied her even one moment of sympathy.

  #

  Lady Catherine observed Laura from the comfort of her fireside chair. Laura’s body showed no outward signs of demoralisation; however, her preoccupied state was puzzling. She had decided to question Laura on the subject, but a sudden knock on her parlour door distracted her from her task.

  “Enter!” Lady Catherine commanded. The door flung wide with such force that she thought the hinges would loosen under her son’s direction.

  Lord Henry crossed the distance of the apartment in mere seconds. “My wife will remain in residence during my absence. Business of a somewhat urgent nature has arisen, and I expect to be absent for several weeks. My duty to inform you is dispensed with, and I shall now take my leave.”

  Lord Henry kissed Lady Catherine’s hand, the gesture formal in nature, his actions making it obvious that he was not the least bit interested in anything his mother might have to say.

  Lord Henry did not deceive his mother. Lady Catherine had witnessed Laura’s apprehension when her son had entered the room and viewed the awkwardness that sat with Henry. As it was not “she” with whom he had been uncomfortable, the elementary process of elimination led her directly to Laura.

  Lady Catherine sighed. She knew her son and was well aware of his errant ways. As Laura’s protector, she prayed the situation that had created this obvious rift was not as she believed. She liked Laura and would wish her no harm of that sort. Moreover, she had never thought to behold her son’s discomfort in the company of a woman.

  Laura was safe while Lord Henry remained in London. His departure had placed distance between them, and since his wife remained in residence, Sarah was also secure.

  Laura’s thoughts constantly dwelled upon her sister. On reflection, she believed that their relationship would not withstand this latest development. The rift between them threatened to be permanent in construction.

  Laura need not have worried. The event that would overshadow all others had already come to pass, and the future would again take a different turn.

  #

  Laura sat by her window. She watched as the pale winter sun struck the glass before coming to land on her journal, the colourful light dance leading the thoughts of the writer astray. Laura removed herself from their influence.

  A creator, long forgotten, had crafted the large ornate window, working the patterns of colour in with the room. Ordinarily, the outlook would aid any crusader in their campaign to prove there was a God, but today it was ineffectual and unable to rally Laura’s spirits. Subjects with which a lady should never have to cope had presented themselves, devastating Laura’s world and wreaking havoc with her emotions.

  The sun was low in a sky, coloured like a child’s drawing in orange and grey pastels, before Laura’s journal beckoned. She wrote with a troubled heart.

  “I confess to be at a loss, for the way forward is bleak, and there appears to be no way back. I shall write of the sequence of events that has led me here, and in achieving their documentation perhaps I shall obtain a sense of order that will enable m
e to carve a way out.

  This morning, as the sun first presented its rays, Sarah entered my bedroom and moved at once to open the heavy drapes. The curtains parted with a violent push that was the forerunner, in her time of need, of lashing out. Sarah’s sole purpose was to hurt someone.

  The crushing burden of Sarah’s news has added more weight to the troubles that I already shoulder. I fear I tread a thin line of sanity.

  The baby is due, by all calculations, in the autumn, and if what Sarah says of me is true, then I have indeed let her down. Had my experiences been broader, I may have been able to acknowledge the transgressions taking place. I ask God to help us both and the child in the times to come.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - Decisions

  The horse was covered in sweat. Foam clung to the mouth of the abused beast, the animal’s frantic snorting chaotic amid the quiet. Lord Henry ignored the creature’s distress, as he bounded the last few steps to the entrance of Marlbrook.

  Determination drove him. He was burnt out from trying to escape the responsibility of Laura and her pious ways. Neither drink nor his use of whores had managed to eliminate her from memory, and it irked him to think that a servant in his household had triumphed where many glamorous women had failed. Laura had captured his heart. Lord Henry’s smile was not flattering, as he thought about the woman who had never sought his affection nor recognised the fact that she had succeeded.

  Lady Emily viewed Henry’s return with disdain. Her movements were slow and premeditated as she appraised her husband. The initial examination over, she returned to her chores before her mirror, without bothering to endorse his presence. She selected her comments with care.

  “Husband, if you must insist on having your harlots, and heaven alone knows whatever else it is that occupies your time, I suggest you clean yourself up before either the servants or your mother lay eyes on you.”

  Lord Henry retreated from his wife’s sight; he had no appetite for her company.

  Laura was unaware of the drama that was transpiring. She was neither privy to the information that Lord Henry had returned nor did she know that he was headed in her direction - a man driven by unreasonable expectations and the imperative need for forgiveness.

  No announcement recorded Lord Henry’s arrival through the open door. This was his home, and Laura deserved courtesy only if he so ordered it.

  Laura was seated at her writing desk, her mind immersed in her work. Her relaxed posture indicated that she was unconcerned by any thought of what was about to happen.

  Lord Henry made no move towards Laura. Uncertainty ruled. His practised phrases, so carefully thought out, had fled to some unknown place. Abandoned, his silence dominated the scene.

  The day was glorious. The spring chill had been excluded from the room, the pair bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight. The setting was deceptive.

  Upon recognising that she was no longer alone, a mad frenzy occupied Laura’s thoughts. She spoke, her utterances faint in tone, covering with some degree of success her underlying anxiety. Any hint of malice that fancied an appearance, she subdued.

  “I did not know you to have returned, sir.” The words expelled, Laura repositioned herself behind her desk, her subconscious mind directing her to establish a sturdy barrier between them. She continued. “I have to be honest and declare that your presence in my private chamber is alarming, and I must respectfully ask that you take your leave. There is little that requires airing between us or that calls for your attendance here.”

  Lord Henry’s appearance spoke of his escapades, but Laura had no desire to seek any particulars. His personal life was no affair of hers. She owed the man nothing.

  Lord Henry declined to endorse Laura’s genuine assertions. Retracing his steps over and over, Lord Henry began pacing the room. Suddenly he stopped, apparently ready to speak.

  “You will be pleased to know, madam, that you have had revenge on my person, for I have not been blessed with an untroubled sleep since our -.” Lord Henry exerted effort to locate the correct word, knowing the difference one retort could make "- encounter.”

  Laura made a brief attempt to reply, but he dismissed her with a brisk wave of his hand.

  “Please, madam, I must ask that you let me finish what I have come to say, and then, I assure you, I shall grant your request and leave you to your own company.”

  Laura did as she was instructed, for no other options presented themselves.

  “I am not here to assault you with words or threaten you with my behaviour, but to announce that I have been punished for my misguided treatment of you. I sense that you may scoff at this expression of sentiment, Laura, particularly in view of earlier incidents, but I can declare, with some certainty, that you remain held in the highest of regard.”

  Lord Henry’s riding crop sat in his hand, beating an untidy rhythm against his leg as if outwardly signifying his repentance.

  Once before, Laura had gained consolation from similar assurances, but the context in which Lord Henry offered his pledge was completely at odds with the previous occasion. One set of words had pacified her, these demanded of her soul.

  Laura spoke aloud her troubles and in doing so partially revived her spirit. Her phrases were no longer subdued in nature, her remarks scathing.

  “Your neediness is unnecessary, my Lord, for what relevance can there be for a servant to be held in esteem? Your words indicate honour and respect which is surely unjust when a Lord is dealing with a lowly attendant.”

  The riding crop ceased its activity.

  Laura sustained her attack. “But fear not. I recognise the courage that it must have taken to express these words, especially since you speak to a servant that you once dismissed as unworthy. Accordingly, I accept your words of atonement, if that is what will assist you in finding absolution.”

  Lord Henry had been sufficiently self-absorbed to believe that Laura would forgive him and that would be the end of the matter. Part of him wanted to accept Laura’s cynical reply. To do so meant that no further work would have to be undertaken on his behalf.

  Laura felt the bile rise in her throat and turned from the sight of him. Her composure was departing, leaving her with a fight on her hands to retain a small measure of calm. Hysteria was not something with which she was well versed, but she was aware that the condition might not be too far away.

  “God damn it, woman!”

  Lord Henry’s stinging phrase was severe, shocking Laura to attention.

  He was no lad to be chastened by Laura. “I am a Lord - do you hear me! A Lord of the Realm, and while I have come across all types of women in my years of wandering this earth, you, madam, you are more than is natural.”

  Lord Henry crossed the small space between them. Taking hold of Laura, he ignored the tremors that passed through her body as he kept up his assault.

  “Laura, I am a man for God’s sake. My wants are not to be spurned as unnatural or cast to one side as though irrelevant. To have someone like you taunt me, with no hope of compensation, is something as unfamiliar to me as being poor would be. Do you comprehend what it is I speak to you of Laura? Do you have any awareness of what you represent?”

  Lord Henry could see the answer written in Laura’s expression. He flung her from him before departing her company. Laura’s disgust served as a knife to penetrate his core.

  Laura walked to her bedroom door and locked it behind him. The unleashing of her wounds had begun in earnest and the sobbing was heart wrenching.

  The luxury of pity eluded Laura. Issues far more pressing than her own required her attention, and to that end, when Laura could cry no more, she wrote, in the belief that her journal might save her.

  “Lord Henry accuses me of substantial wrong and I cannot say that he is not correct in at least some of his indictments. I have much to think about but know the outcome will not be different. I make no apologies. The lack of insight I may have shown seems to have led many a merry dance as those around me scorn
me for it.

  Sarah’s need is the greatest. By not granting Lord Henry full forgiveness, I may have condemned Sarah to a fate that I now avow to share.

  I have the additional strain of facing him again, and I do not know what will happen when I confront him with this latest development. The outcome, as always, is in God’s hands.”

  #

  Laura stood alone, surrounded by the knowledge of the centuries. She waited for the man who would be her judge and jury before proclaiming her fate. She did not miss the irony the library presented but the relevance paled when compared with what was to come.

  Conscious that he did not like surprises, Lord Henry dreaded another confrontation where winning did not appear to be an attainable option.

  Laura was dressed in the plain grey dress that seemed to be all she owned, her hair braided in its usual pattern. When she turned to face him, it was with a pride so evident that it caused him physical pain.

  While Lord Henry admitted that he assigned no honour to his offensive conduct, he had not forgotten the sampling of Laura. There had been many nights when he had relived the experience in fantasy before the light of day again surfaced to trouble his existence.

  Laura hardened her resolve as the disclosure, practised in preparation for this interview, echoed in the hollowness of the room. Her humbleness was real.

  “Sir, I thank you for your precious time, and I shall try and keep matters precise.” Laura hesitated. Surplus energy spent, she determined not to look down or cower. She collected her thoughts, breathing deeply to help stabilise her speech.

  “It is with great difficulty that I must inform you of my sister’s dire state of affairs.”

  This room, once Laura’s haven and then the scene of her ruin, would now bear witness to her confession. “My sister, my Lord, is with child these two months gone.” The announcement flowed. Laura had conquered the moment and could now only trust that vengeance would not be his goal.