Thomas’ reluctance to speak stifled Laura. Her words demanded a release, and she held no patience with his dithering. “Sir. You did not have the courage to advise me of your plans?”
Thomas did not deny the facts.
Laura carried on in a voice that trembled with emotion. “Thomas, you have my sincere condolences for your trials. The subject is delicate in nature, and, my dearest friend, there are no words available to me that would suffice.”
Laura’s nerves were raw. Apprehension built, knowing as she did what would happen next and the damage that she would inflict. Laura could not guarantee that Thomas’ anger would not be raised and spill onto her.
Thomas looked out upon the courtyard. The inclination to confront Laura did not exist. Laura was his support and his beloved, and he would use any tactic at his disposal to delay the inevitable.
Laura forced an outcome. “Thomas, please, for all that is holy and good, will you not speak with me? The subject is complex and you know that we must settle the issue in private. The matter must remain between you and I.”
Thomas let his eyes come to rest where Laura had chosen to position herself, and she could see in his wisdom that he accepted her reason for being here. She should never have doubted him. This the man she cherished understood, and she loved him all the more for his concern. It was indeed a harsh God that demanded so much from two people.
Laura sighed, knowing the time had come to begin the words that would bring about the closure of their alliance. She delivered her speech with a heavy heart.
“Thomas, I am troubled by your hurt and sympathise with my whole being, but you, in turn, have lashed out and threatened my family. My children are dear to me and it is their welfare about which I have come to see you.”
Thomas listened as Laura spoke; however, her words did not ring with their usual defiance. Instead, they conveyed to him the tragedy associated with the circumstances that had led them here.
Decisions come with a price. Thomas had sparred with his anguish, but his injuries were grievous and demanded to be aired. As painful as the task was, he knew what must be done.
He no longer required the assistance of the constabulary. His desire to ruin a family that had bred harm and inflicted damage necessitated the extraction of a specific type of retribution. He would secure revenge, not for the father’s sin, but as penance for the son’s.
Thomas conceded that nothing would be achieved by the destruction of Marlbrook. The process would be indiscriminate and could destroy Laura in its wake. Complications also existed in the form of the boy child whom he could claim as his own. No, he would not proceed in the public eye; he would not hurt Laura or his son. The damage would be of a subtler nature.
Thomas crossed the floor to his writing desk and released the document from its home. He handed the condemning parchment to Laura. Poetic, he thought, that she should choose a chair by the fireside. His thoughts were profound and nearly his undoing.
Thomas acknowledged that his behaviour was not that of a gentleman, but it remained the only way that he could settle the score. Laura would know the repellent facts and remember them every day that she was in her husband’s house and every night that she shared his bed. The son and father would be as one.
Thomas declined to burden himself with the knowledge of the wounds he might inflict. It was too late in their lives for trivia. He would not rejoice in Laura’s pain nor was he willing to bear the brunt of any feelings that might arise.
As Laura began to read, Thomas left her company, his departure completed without a gesture of farewell.
His horse had been prepared and Thomas mounted the steed without looking back. He would ride as far as the horse would take him, away from his wretched ghosts and Laura.
The arched window had sanctioned an unencumbered outlook of his retreat. Laura’s farewell was silent, as she watched Thomas depart from her life.
The words she had read were condemning, certain to raise doubts and devastate memories, but she knew Thomas better than he gave her credit for. He had withdrawn under pretence. He offered her an escape route if she so chose, but she would not abuse his trust. She finished the disclosure, fully aware of the personal cost.
Behind Laura, the door opened and then silently closed. Laura remained seated, her focus concentrated on the road that lay ahead. The unveiling of the past had proved a heavy burden. She would have to learn to master her regrets.
The slight click of the latch and the telltale rustle of skirts brought Lady Maureen’s presence to her notice.
Their meeting had been a long time coming. Lady Maureen did not own the obvious beauty of one like Sarah, but her features combined with poise to form a handsome woman. She portrayed classical elegance and style.
Adept at deception, Lady Maureen practised the art on a daily basis with family and friends. Her adversary, she supposed, in all probability was the only person aside from her husband that held a glimmer of what the real truth might be. Long ago, she had queried the night as to where she would derive her peace. She had yet to find an answer.
Jealousy and insecurity had consumed Maureen for most of her adult life, the woman standing before her the instigator of her misery. Against all odds, Laura had managed to sustain her hold on Thomas.
Maureen was a patient woman, but her composure had come at the expense of her self-esteem and the erosion neared completion. At thirty and six years of age, Maureen was growing old. Her children had been conceived from the base desire of sex, a wife accepting of her husband’s needs - an inhuman existence to be condemned to in anyone’s reality.
Laura cringed at the sight of Thomas’ wife. Anguish was written in the ageing features, along with the suffering she believed herself to have originated. This was the woman who shared Thomas’ bed as his wife and who wore the legitimacy to bear his children - a right that should have been hers. The last thought acted like a knife, cutting Laura in two, her pain suppressing any argument that she might have raised. If Lady Maureen’s suffering was given credibility, it would mean losing the tiny fragments of love that kept Laura emotionally sane. No. Harsh though it may sound, she had never considered the woman.
Maureen looked upon her reflection in the mirror located at Laura’s side. Her hair had once been black in colour the darkness aided by a glossy sheen, but at some time the shine had been lost, the ebony replaced by a foreign, greying mass. The eyes, she thought, contained no spark. Eyes were storytellers. They displayed a person’s contentment with life. In her case, they reflected the desperation of one denied a purpose for living. Her head tilted slightly to one side, the movement bringing Laura back into view.
“Since the first day of my marriage, I have stored the words that I have longed to say to you, madam, rehearsing the phrases over and over during the long hours spent waiting for a husband that rarely returned. But now, having met you, my curiosity appears ordinary, and perhaps shall be sated after laying eyes upon the woman who has kept my husband from me all these years.”
Maureen moved on before Laura could intervene. She had no intention of partaking in a two-way conversation.
Lady Maureen’s eyes contained a hint of irrationality that unnerved Laura. There was nothing Laura could do but wait.
“You are indeed worthy, at least in appearance, of my husband’s attention, for I can see how you would hold his interest, but as to personality and what you offer him I cannot be your judge. To have captivated Thomas, I can merely presume that you are more spirited in temperament than I.”
Laura noticed the dainty white lace handkerchief that Lady Maureen clutched in both hands. The plight of the wretched material held her entranced as it writhed in the woman’s grasp.
“They say, madam, do they not,” Maureen continued, “that disclosure is good for the soul.” Maureen began moving about the room, her agitation refusing to allow her to stand still.
“Time is an enemy to us all, and I must bear that in mind. As difficult as I find this situation, I mean to use this opportu
nity to the fullest.” Her pacing stopped. Maureen’s inner conflict had been won or lost, but either way, she seemed reconciled.
“To offer a confession in the church brings with it the possibility of forgiveness. I do not crave your pardon, but a degree of peace is vital to a healthy body and soul.”
Maureen had been favoured with a beautiful speaking voice, the timbre dulcet in tone. Laura recognised that the woman was persecuted, but she could not help her. She had no insight into the true purpose underlying this conversation.
Maureen took a few seconds to compose herself before progressing. “Under normal circumstances, I should hate. You have robbed me of a husband and deprived me of any natural delight in my children. However, I find that I cannot. I am not a devout person, I can assure you, and this state comes through no lack of trying to despise you. My problem, you see, is that it turns out that I am the one that must beg your forgiveness.”
Laura remained silent. The stage was undeniably Lady Maureen’s and the show as yet incomplete.
“When your sister first found herself in, shall we say, “trouble”, I had already become an intimate of the late Lady Emily. I had been welcomed into her close circle of friends. The group had accepted me as a confidante, and I became privy to the events that had taken place within Lady Emily’s household. Consequently, I cannot hide behind honour, nor do I intend to. I acknowledge, quite freely, that I knew of Thom love for you. You were a favourite topic of Lady Emily’s and, whether you know this or not, she often laid scorn at your door. You see, you deprived her of a lover.”
Laura was unaware of her rival’s rejection, for Maureen could see it written in her response. “I paid no heed and made the mistake, as many of my class have, of assuming that wealth and power eventually solve everything. You see, Laura, men in general are weak creatures lured by many a pretty face, but a wife’s bed is somewhere that I was brought up to believe they would always return. I cite this as my justification and my ruin.”
The handkerchief had ceased its struggles, the article lying limp in its tormentor’s hand. “I did not hesitate nor did I surrender my course once I had made up my mind to marry Thomas. Again you must see, madam, that my plan was doomed to fail. It turns out that you are the wife to whom he returned, and I have been given no more attention than a mistress could demand. Once used, I was discarded. This might sound an unnatural existence, but one I have come to accept, for I married Thomas with full knowledge that he belonged to you. A certain recipe for a disastrous union, would you not agree?”
Over time, Maureen had become wise. Pain and anguish had taught her a great deal. Her story neared completion. “During the period that Thomas searched for you, I had also made it my business to seek your location. The crucial difference, Laura, was that I was successful; hence, before my marriage vows took place, I had it within my power to mend your lives. Selfishly, I chose not to do so, and on my wedding day, Lady Emily revealed to my husband your true state of affairs. I could read his mind, but it was too late for both of us and from that day on I have found no peace. But the real tragedy is in the final punishment. Every day of my life, I have had to bear witness to my husband’s suffering, and every day I live in misery, accepting that I am the one that initiated it. You of all people, I am sure, must see the sad irony of my story. I can never confess my sins and ask for absolution, nor can I ever comfort Thomas in his loss.” Her disclosure at an end, Lady Maureen quietly slipped away.
Laura made no attempt to stop Lady Maureen. Fated lovers and those embroiled in their lives make for sombre tales, with endings that tend to be melancholy in nature. Laura declined the invitation to become one of those casualties.
#
The story had been constructed of intricate pieces, some lost and some scarred with half-truths. The book that Laura had discovered in the library, on a night long ago, had disappeared. Laura had always assumed that her husband had destroyed it out of spite, but evidence now pointed to the probability that Lady Emily had uncovered the item. What lay within the confines of the pages Laura could only speculate, and she could only presume that some of the letter’s condemning contents and the people involved had been extracted from its pages.
The Lawyer had confirmed that it was Lady Emily’s money that had financed the uncovering of the witness. Despite their recommendations to the contrary, it was Lady Emily who had insisted that they proceed with the matter.
Somehow, Lady Emily had managed to link Lady Catherine with Lady Virginia’s wedding ring. Lady Catherine had been the warden charged with guarding the precious item, hiding it within the safe confines of her bosom.
Laura recoiled at the idea that the Lady she had grown to respect might have covered the mistakes of the father, as she had done for the son.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE – New beginnings
“The desires of men are not always met,
but no guarantees were ever given
For it is said that mankind holds the future within their grasp to mould and form at will
But who probes for consent or questions the creator’s standards, and who amongst us would put their results to any test?
Countless effort had been placed into the weaving of intrigue, the future shaped under the control of a select few. However, all concerned had neglected one factor – Hope - an entity ignored when they had hatched their schemes and fed them on hatred.
The slight figure stood tall and straight in the doorway of her “Aunt’s” home. The daughter Sarah had forsaken sought answers.
Apprehension sat with Sarah, and rightly so, for this time there was nowhere for her to run.
“Sarah,” Hope avoided the term “mother,” for the humble word associated itself with love and affection, none of which could be detected here. “Are you not pleased to greet your daughter?”
And so began the conversation between a mother and her child. What transpired remains their secret; the outcome, however, left no one in doubt. Whether attributable to the discussion or to pure coincidence, Mr and Mrs Pritchard announced their plans for departure that same day, their exit accomplished with far less grandeur than their entrance.
#
On that fateful day, Lord Ashley had ridden, with his demons at his back, to escape Laura, but he did not run far. He never did, from Laura’s love. Nevertheless he had accepted, as she had, that their roads had divided, and they would not meet again for a long time. Life carried with it some poignant moments.
Thomas had stabled his horse. The steps he walked were laden with sadness, but his slate had been wiped clean.
Lady Maureen understood her husband. Change had resulted for them, but neither solicited the reason. Thomas managed to share a measure of his troubles with his wife and Maureen had alleviated hers. Effort would be rewarded.
The weight they had supported over the years would always exist, as injuries of such proportion are almost impossible to erase; however, the ability to place life in perspective can be mastered.
Maureen never acquainted her husband with her what transpired between his wife and his lover. She knew she would not have contributed to their lives by doing so. Maureen accepted the past; it was their tomorrows that required mending, and for an infinitesimal grain of time, Thomas succeeded in making her happy.
Lady Maureen died two years later. The birth of her third child involved complications that no doctor could have foreseen, but she had lived long enough to lay eyes on the baby that she so desperately craved. Of all her children, this one had been born of affection. Her passing had been a peaceful event.
The child, a girl, had thankfully survived. They named her Chloe, after her great grandmother on her mother’s side.
The squalling, unceasing noise originated from a small red face, the newborn baby appearing angry at the world, irate at the disruption that her dying mother had brought about.
#
Marlbrook was appeased. Three heirs ensured the continuation of a tradition, three lives that would unfold, and on one, if not mo
re, duty would impose its obligations.
Laura knew the role she had to play in Marlbrook’s future, her apprenticeship undertaken at the feet of a master. She would stay true to her word and assume the role of caretaker, until her children were prepared. To guide youthful souls through life would be a colossal task. Others had failed, and she knew her judgement day would come.
Daily existence had taken on a relatively normal passage. Laura and Hope did not talk of what transpired between a mother and her daughter. The day would come when Hope would be ready.
Ashley Manor had not established a legal case before the courts. Therefore history pardoned Marlbrook from its crimes, and excused the present from having to lie. The news had come as no surprise to Laura. Trust was something that she naturally associated with Thomas. However, the celebration had been sombre in nature, marred by the knowledge that their friendship had come to an end.
The day was grey. Clouds loomed, threatening to dump their precious loads on the expectant land below. Laura pulled the curtains to a close. She had need of intimacy and had no want to be disturbed. The children were safely tucked away out of harm’s reach and speech did not irritate the quiet. Thomas had been wrong in his assumptions. Her husband no longer held her with threats or cajoling. Their years together had seen an alliance form, one that both parties worked hard at. Henry was the father of her children, and she would not abandon him in his time of adversity.
Lord Henry sat in his drawing room, surrounded by comfort and enveloped in solitude, as he attempted to bring together all the pieces of the puzzle. A guilty verdict for his father’s heinous transgression had never been in doubt. He did not require a lawful court to confirm what he knew deep down inside.
Lord Henry’s reflections included his mother. She had to have been a knowing conspirator, for his father had been too weak to have survived the fallout alone. Did either ever feel remorse? Sadly, he did not know the answer.
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