Journey's End (Marlbrook)

by Carroll, Bernadette

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR – The Child

  For decades, Lady Catherine had worked hard to find a basis for acceptance for what had been and what would now come to pass. Her sanity had relied upon her achieving the balance.

  “I have grounds to support my claim for grandchildren, and I shall have them anyway I can. Where is the grandchild that you so calmly threw in my face?”

  Lord Henry remained calm, allowing his mother to finish having her say.

  “I begin to believe that the child is just a figment of your imagination, conjured to aid your secret schemes.”

  Lord Henry exercised caution. While his mother had come round to his way of thinking, the critical success of his plan had always hinged on how much support he required, not if. Too much and she would demand the child forthwith, thereby jeopardising his hold over Laura. He had to ensure that his mother experienced a degree of want, fused with a hint of loss.

  “I agree, mother. The arrangements are made. It is time you met your granddaughter.”

  #

  The knock on the entranceway to Laura’s home was expected. Laura opened the door to a girl of around fourteen years of age, her slight form standing meekly in the doorway. Smartly dressed in her maid’s uniform, the colour of the cloth complimented the hue of the girl’s face.

  The young woman appeared perplexed but Laura had no care either way. Her concerns were of a far weightier variety.

  The cottage, originally intended as a haven, had provided Laura with shelter and protection, but unknowingly, somewhere along the way, the dwelling had also become her prison. Windows lacked bars and there were no sentries to mar the perimeters, but deprivation comes in many forms. Fear guarded Laura. Invisible boundaries denied her freedom, lines that had not been broken since Sarah’s departure.

  Upon exiting the cottage, Laura’s anxiety sharpened and the possibility of a stomach disorder added to her growing stockpile of concerns.

  Despite everything that Laura had endured thus far, facing Lady Catherine still daunted her. Hope was a different matter. The child’s intellect thrived on the excitement. The newness of experience held no doubt or consternation for her.

  Laura smiled as Hope clambered here and there in the small confines of the carriage, the thrill of discovery both visible and audible. All the complexities associated with the journey originated from Laura’s perspective.

  “This is her, then? My grandchild! Bring her to me – come along, come along, I’ll have no dawdling. Bring her here, girl.”

  And all the while, Lady Catherine’s cane beat a rhythmic dance, tap, tap, tapping; the sequence familiar and comforting to Laura.

  Hope clambered onto her grandmother’s lap, fascinated by the shiny ornaments that adorned the woman. A nose of any description, to an inquisitive child, lends itself to being tweaked, the girl’s mind curious and unrestrained.

  The first offence went unchecked, as did the dribbling on the lace of her Ladyship’s morning dress. Refrains of the few barely discernible words that made up Hope’s vocabulary were yelled at a level designed to stretch her vocal cords.

  The child donated a reservoir of wonder to an old lady with a yearning. “She is my grandchild. I can see her heritage!”

  The staunch proclamation made, let any brave man defy it. Tears accompanied the rapture, releases that had not seen the light of day for decades. As they emerged, Laura renewed her faith.

  Lady Catherine was forthright. “My son has not been good to you, Laura, from what I can deduce.” Her words did not require verification nor did condemnation taint them. “While I deplore the circumstances surrounding the birth of my grandchild, I declare that I lay no blame at your doorstep. There. We have dispensed with that unsavoury matter, and now let us make the best of what we have.”

  It was like old times. Laura smiled at the grandmother of her child, and a natural bond formed between them, a mutual one that would ensure no harm would ever befall Hope.

  “Laura,” her Ladyship suddenly burst forth, “this house is a blessing and a great hardship. You recognised the truth long ago, for I detected your understanding. My son does not. He neither senses it nor possesses the commitment essential to its care. The survival of Marlbrook must be secured. Age is upon me Laura, and I must have confidence that the next generation will be committed and inspired.”

  Lady Catherine had grown old. Laura heeded her words, which were expressed in the desperation that someone might listen before it was too late.

  “Lady Catherine, I accept your obligations. I too have experienced the lure of Marlbrook. You can rest assured that while it is within my power to do so, Hope shall learn of her birthright and what that duty entails. This then, is my gift to you.”

  Lady Catherine had opened the door to a new life and Laura willingly passed through.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - Wounds

  Hope threw herself about, as was usual during her wash time, adding complexity to the task of donning a nightgown that only children can. The hour had grown late before Laura tucked the energetic little bundle safely within the confines of her bed.

  Settled by the open fire, Laura relaxed, at peace with the silence. Pen in hand, she made ready to record recent events.

  The bolt on Laura’s door had remained unused, the chill carried on the night air eliminating any prospect of strangers wandering the land. Her writing absorbed her attention.

  The mini whirlwind hit with speed, sparks cast out from their home to reap destruction and mayhem upon the hearthrug. Lady Emily’s entrance could not have been more dramatic had she planned the affair.

  Lady Emily’s dressmaker had bored her for most of the afternoon and well into the evening, but this last stop, she hoped, would make up for her pains.

  Lady Emily watched the scene with amusement, as Laura struggled to save her journal from the fiery mass, her feet stomping about the grate, extinguishing stray embers.

  Laura propelled herself to where Lady Emily stood. She shoved Lady Emily to one side before slamming the poor, defenceless door shut.

  Lady Emily had hardly felt a thing, as furs amply cushioned her, but her pride had suffered as she believed Laura had been about to strike her.

  The women took a moment to regroup. Laura had thought her adversary already departed abroad. She braced herself for more conflict. Lady Emily’s visits were never social and always camouflaged some malignant intent.

  “Good evening.” Politeness always came first with Lady Emily, regardless of her ulterior motives. “I trust that my untimely appearance has not caused you any alarm?” The words carried with them their usual level of contempt. “The hour is late, and my travels home have been delayed. The process of updating one’s wardrobe is so tedious but, of course, it is a necessary chore since one must strive to look one’s best, particularly on special occasions.”

  Lady Emily employed a deliberate interlude. Fun could be found in taunting Laura, and she loved to exercise her authority in any form.

  Laura failed to respond and, by doing so, denied Lady Emily of her full amusement.

  “Oh, but I am silly,” began Lady Emily, refusing to be outdone. “Being so isolated, I do not expect that you will have received the news.” The hesitation was slight, but again achieved a purpose. “Pleasure consumes me to be the bearer of this information, and your reaction, madam, shall make up for much of my discomfort this night.”

  Lady Emily’s lips tightened into a grinning sneer before she released her glad tidings. “Lady Maureen is ecstatic to find herself with child again, and she assures me that her husband is eager to have a girl as the latest addition to their family.” One look at Laura told Lady Emily exactly what she wanted to know. She had exceeded her expectations.

  Laura’s appetite to hurt this woman had never been tempted. No pleasure could be gained from games such as this, not when all you had to look forward to was losing.

  Silently, Laura wished Thomas every happiness, along with the tranquillity of which she had deprived him an
d, in turn, which had eluded her.

  Laura showed Lady Emily the exit and closed the door on the woman, without any further acknowledgement. The bolt that had gone unused on the husband had finally served a purpose on the wife.

  The days advanced. Hope had achieved eighteen months of age without major mishap. First precarious steps had been taken at the age of one year, and the tiny tuft of hair had spread its base to cover her entire head with a soft, dark mass. A lone curl could be sighted by her left ear. The grin, so dear to Laura, held the assurance of still more teeth.

  Lord Henry cared for his daughter, and Laura, albeit reluctantly, had to agree that Hope treasured his visits. Chubby arms would reach for him, and the word that connected them would be repeated to the point of distraction. “Da”, was the innocent refrain that evoked Laura’s unease, a subtle reminder that the child and her needs were foremost. If Hope required her father’s love to become a whole person, then Laura determined that was what she would have.

  Lord Henry held Laura in his arms while she slept. Sleep did not come easy to him on occasion, but his loss caused minor irritation, as he believed that reflection was something everyone should be forced to undergo. His world had gradually become immersed in Laura’s, and he was grateful. He cared for Laura in every sense of the word, love being an expression he used sparingly.

  Lord Henry’s physical craving had calmed, yet his want to be with Laura, in or out of bed, had never waned. He accepted more than Laura gave him credit for. Her heart abided elsewhere, but he was content and his mother was pleased with her granddaughter.

  The child, as she aged, would benefit more over time from being under his roof, a truth Laura had yet to admit and a fact, he suspected, that she would not be in any hurry to recognise.

  Lord Henry’s gaze settled upon Laura. The naked window permitted the moonlight to dance upon their bed, the glow casting flattering shadows while donating a pale luminescence to their exposed skin.

  A familiar longing washed over Lord Henry and he embraced it. Gently, he stroked Laura’s hair, relishing anew the experience, breathing deep of the fragrance released with each touch. Eagerness no longer ruled him. He could indulge himself with what was his and do so at his leisure. The touch of Laura’s velvety skin aroused him and prompted him to blanket her body with his own.

  Laura awoke to find Lord Henry desirous, his manhood impatient to enter her, and once again she performed her duty as best she could.

  The last entry in Laura’s journal reflected her confusion about the role that life had dictated she play; one that she had difficulty interpreting.

  “The peaks and troughs that life presents, if demonstrated upon an artist’s easel, would form the appearance of waves upon the ocean, one minute violent and carrying destruction, the next tranquil as a lily pond deceptive in its calm.

  The man is a stranger, one that has dealt me grievous harm and, in contrast, gifted me a beautiful daughter.

  I am in constant turmoil when I am with him but find against my better judgement that a place for affection is forming. Fate seems harsh as I write these treacherous words.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - Love and deceit

  The cottage and its inhabitants had settled into a regular routine and, though modest, the garden had repaid its debts by producing a bountiful harvest. Summer ticked by, ruled by harmony.

  Marlbrook had been woven into Laura and Hope’s lives in a seamless integration, Lord Henry holding true to his word. A pattern of sorts had developed, and although Lord Henry’s visits were frequent, they were of short duration - to the satisfaction of all concerned.

  Hope kept Laura busy. The girl’s active, spasmodic lifestyle ensured that her energy was quickly spent, the requirement for a daily nap yet to be outgrown. Laura used the quiet to restore her well-being.

  Climbing to the neighbouring summit of land, Laura would sit and let nature take over. The setting revived her spirits, liberating any suppressed emotions during her temporary stay. The cottage never left the boundaries of her sight, her charge safe within the confines of her miniature bed.

  The lane narrowed in parts to where Laura chose not to walk in the confined space. She preferred to tackle the stone wall instead, the precursor to her climb.

  Today, the sun sat midway in the afternoon sky before she managed to perch herself atop the grassy mound, a light summer breeze tugging gently at her hem.

  Birds joined Laura, chirping in unison with the crickets, while the leaves rustled in the wind. Nature produced a symphony, the melody unconstrained by the rigours of practice or confined within the pages of a manuscript. Laura imagined herself alone in her universe, the world hers to embrace and take from it what she pleased.

  A horse neighed and disturbed the natural quiet, the harsh snorting contaminating the peaceful accord. Alerted to the prospect of peril, Laura peered in the direction of the sound. As recognition took place, she fled.

  The beast’s hooves thudded against the soft earth, frightening Laura with their approach. Left with nowhere to run, she realised that her options had been withdrawn. She had been betrayed by the stone wall that she had once claimed as her support.

  Calm - strange and powerful - descended upon Laura, donated from some unseen source, as she turned to confront her opponent.

  Thomas had a caring wife and children who loved him, but his family had nothing to do with the conclusion he sought. This was a matter between a man and a woman who had fallen in love.

  Loneliness is an evil creature that threatens people, often developing into something bitter and twisted, and if not discouraged, it would eventually destroy him.

  Tired of being driven by his unnatural compulsions, Thomas had made his decision. The spectre of Laura would be removed. She had invaded his privacy and his marriage bed for too long.

  Thomas stared down at Laura from his commanding position. His thoughts, unclouded by sentiment for the first time, acknowledged a base craving that demanded satisfaction. He dismounted, determined that his personal demons would be dispelled.

  Laura gazed into the dark eyes of the man she loved, and acceptance came about. She did not cower. The days of girlish innocence were gone.

  Motionless, like animals stalking their prey, they waited, each unsure what the next step would bring.

  Thomas made the first move, capturing Laura’s slight wrist. He drew Laura to him, holding her firm against his hard, muscular body.

  Laura’s bodice fell open at his bidding. His hands were rough upon her breasts, the infringement completed by his mouth. Thomas was impatient. He fought to free himself of the memories that had beset his dreams and made his nights lonely.

  Using his knee to his advantage, he placed the object between Laura’s legs, his fingers kneading the tender flesh of her thighs before plunging into her depths.

  Laura braced herself, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out for more. She wanted Thomas, the strength of her ardour equal to his, and the act took on another dimension.

  Thomas positioned himself for the familiar, the option of lingering remote. He entered Laura with the intent of a lover, but his body, driven by months of deprivation, urged him on, taking them to new heights.

  Laura joined Thomas where the outside world and harm did not exist. She had come to know her body, and the timing that would produce a brother or sister for Hope. She quelled her disquiet. She loved Thomas.

  Lord Thomas Ashley, Laura’s lover in her heart and her writings, had become her lover in real life. Guilt of any description absented itself, as he took her again and again, the pitch fevered, the act no less gentle than the first.

  When the time came for Thomas to remove himself from Laura’s side, he stood tall, pulling his belt to a comfortable notch. He savoured the sight of Laura lying half-naked on the grass.

  Free of the cords that bound him, Thomas’ grief had dispersed, stealing back to its bleak cavern. He smiled, as the latest stage in their saga came about. Their lives would
be complicated, but enriched.

  #

  Lady Maureen understood a man like her husband. Strong and capable, he could withstand many trials before it showed in his bearing, but the heartbreak he had borne seemed forever evident and had showed no signs of abating. She was a dutiful wife. Her insights into her Thomas’ troubled world had always been concealed and her sorrow unacknowledged. Time, Maureen had reasoned, would release her husband from his secret bonds. She could wait, but the moment of his liberation seemed a long time coming.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN – The Return

  In the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and thirty-three, Marlbrook welcomed Lady Emily home. She had returned triumphant from her months of travel and her husband was well pleased with her account of his possessions.

  Ceremonious in their welcome, the social elite delighted in news of the New World. Lady Emily’s stories provided a rare glimpse of a realm outside the narrow boundaries of London. Lady Emily’s flair for fashion and gossip were renowned and she thrived on the attention.

  The hour had grown late when Lord Henry made his way to his bedchamber. The strain of listening to his wife’s constant prattle had exhausted and annoyed him; therefore, his surprise was genuine when he found Lady Emily half-naked and in his apartment.

  “Husband. You make no move to hide your surprise. Surely, a wife is entitled to some affection? We have not had to endure each other’s company for a substantial period, and maybe tonight love will favour us.”

  The lewd remarks did little to bolster Lord Henry’s self-control.

  Lady Emily loosened her robe. The article parted like a curtain rising at the opera, the crowd expected to pant in awe.

  Lady Emily had anticipated an appreciative audience, but her nakedness had no such effect on her husband. Disgust rapidly turned to loathing, as Lord Henry witnessed his wife caress her own places of worship.