REMEMBRANCE (33 page)

“Yes I know, but do you think that if you had not been forced to marry Lord Bradley that you and I would have made our life together?”

“I think that you already know the answer to that, John; we have gone over it a hundred times. You knew as well as I do what society and our parents expected of us. As difficult as it was for us to come to terms with our separation, I can honestly say that the only one good thing that came out of my marriage was Thomas.”

“But you did not love Lord Bradley.”

“You know that I loved no other but you. Do you think I have not gone over it time and time again in my head how things could have been?”

“I still love you, Bertie. And although I have spent many a night imagining our lives together, I agree that it is best that we let what might have been lie. Still, I do feel that you and I had been cheated out of a good life together.”

“Please John, I am so sorry.”

“Yes Bertie—you are right; we must not dwell on the past. But what can we do for Thomas and Maria?”

“I think we should learn from our mistake John. We must not let our children suffer as we have, for they are in love and they belong with each other. We cannot come between them again. All we can do is pray and ask their forgiveness for what we have done.”

Although Thomas tried not to listen, he couldn’t help overhearing their devotion to one another. He had a lot to be thankful for, it was just like his mother to smooth over everything with common sense. Unwittingly, she had soothed Sir John and his aversion to Tom, but also she had hinted at the relationship that she and Sir John had or could have. He had not been so blind to notice the way they were with each other, and many a time he had half-expected a union between the two of them. Yes, he had a lot to be thankful to his mother for! After all that had been said, she still stood by him in his hour of need, and he was going to need a great deal from both Sir John and his mother if Maria was to come through this. If he was fortunate to have her back, he was determined never to let her out of his sight again.

Suddenly feeling very tired, he let his eyes close. It was only the nod of his head, but as it dropped forward, it caused him to snatch his eyes open again.

It was then that he saw it—the blurred vision of a woman. At first, he thought that it might be Bella, but he noticed that she had silver hair of a woman advanced in years.

“I must be going mad,” he muttered to himself.

She stood on the opposite side of the bed to him, leaning over Maria. She moved closer to the sleeping woman and he saw her reach out to touch her arm.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

She seemed to take no notice of his words and carried on with what she was doing. He saw the glint of something silver in the woman’s hand, and could feel fear ebb through his body at the thought that this woman was going to harm Maria in some way. He rose slowly so that he could see what it was that she was doing, but no sooner had he moved than the image vanished before his eyes.

He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was definitely going mad. When he opened his eyes again, only he and Maria occupied the room.

* * * * *

He hadn’t moved for three days. His back ached terribly and the stiffness in his neck made it hard for him to turn his head.

Maria’s body was racked with fever and she thrashed about the bed, calling out to him before falling back into unconsciousness.

He had fallen asleep again, to be awoken by the sound of muffled voices. He rubbed his eyes to try to rid them of the burning tiredness that dried his lids.

She was there again. It was the third night in a row that he had seen the strange apparition. Was it a ghost that stood beside M? He could hear Maria talking to the shadowy opaque image of the woman as she leant over her where she lay. The ghostly woman’s silver hair was tied loosely upon her head and a few loose curls fell about her face. Was he dreaming? He rubbed his eyes again, desperately trying to focus. Yet, as he opened them again, she was still there. Aware that his body was racked with fatigue, he was sure that his mind was playing tricks on him.

* * * * *

Bertie leaned over Maria’s sweat-soaked body. She knew that she did not have much time. Maria had drifted in and out—swinging from present to past—in her fever and she had no idea how long she would have before she disappeared again.

“Oh Gran, what have I done?” Maria wailed.

“Shush child,” Bertie tried to sooth her. “Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

“Oh Gran!” She thrashed her head from side to side, as she fought her fever.

It was the third night Bertie had sat there, waiting. Every time Maria’s form had materialised upon the bed, she would rush to her side, the glint of the syringe shining in her hand, the light caught its metal shape. The needle had pierced the thin skin of her arm. Bertie knew that Maria would have been dead by now. They did not have the medicines in the past that they had in the present day and she needed to inject the life-saving drug into her granddaughter before she vanished again.

* * * * *

Who was she, Thomas wondered again, this ghost woman who appeared every night? He had been transfixed to the spot, too scared to move for fear it was an evil spirit that would go berserk at the slightest movement. But, as the nights wore on, he became aware that there was something very familiar about her. She reminded him of someone…

On the third night, he suddenly remembered something he had heard a while ago—when it was a person’s time to leave this world, a spirit in the form of a beloved one would appear, to guide them along the path of light into the afterlife. Had he not heard Maria call this person her gran?

Every fibre of his being suddenly came alive. Was this ghost here to take M? Would he wake one morning to find her gone? Panic set in. He would not lose her; he had fought too hard to keep her. This lady, whoever she was, would not take his love away.

With a quick movement, he was at the side of the bed, snatching up Maria’s hand. He stared defiantly at the apparition.

The sound rushed through his ears; a wind so strong that took his breath away. Everything in the room began to spin. Colours of all shades blended into one, merging as the worlds of past and present collided. Thomas and Bertie were now both holding a hand of the feverish woman, who acted as the link between the two worlds.

Bertie stared across the bed into the blue eyes of Thomas Bradley. The breath caught in her throat, as, at last, she looked upon his handsome face.

“You will not have her!” Thomas shouted. “I will not lose her again. I love her too much for you to just take her from me!”

The ghost never said a word; it just looked at him.

“Do you hear me?” he shouted out, “You will never have her!”

“I know, Thomas, for I am not here to take her from you,” the woman whispered.

He looked in amazement that the apparition had actually said anything.

“I am here to bring her back to you.”

“What?”

“I am giving you back your destiny, Thomas Bradley.”

His face creased in confusion at her words. “What? What do you mean by that?”

“Think wisely, for what you shall seek, shall be your making. Do not make the same mistake that I have had to endure.”

Her smile was one of pure love, as she looked upon the young man. And, at that moment, he felt that he knew her just as she knew him. He recognised something.

“Live long and love your heart’s desire, for she is part of you.” She raised Maria’s hand to her lips, her tears falling on to its cold skin, “She is a very special woman.”

“Who are you?” his voice was hushed.

He recognised the kindness as he looked into the grey eyes. He knew those eyes. His brow creased in recognition. He knew this woman.

“Mother?” His voice could hardly be heard.

“I love you Thomas,” then she was gone, the window of time closing behind her.

* * * * *

Thomas leaned on Maria’s bed, as exhaustion overcame him. Dark blonde stubble shadowed his chin and he desperately needed a wash. The room was stifling; the smell of damp mustiness hung in the air. His shirt clung to his back as his skin was drenched in perspiration, but he would not leave her side. He must stay with her. Ever since he had seen the apparition of his mother, he had been too afraid to leave the room for fear that Maria would not be here when he returned, even though she had said that she had not been there to take her.

Still trying to come to terms with the fact that the ghost had been his mother, he wondered what her words ‘I’m giving you back your destiny’ meant. What did ‘Do not make the same mistake that she had endured’ mean? Had she meant… M? What was it that he had to do?

He shook his head, trying to shake off some of his tiredness.

“Mr Bradley, I have brought you something to eat,” Bella whispered upon entering the room, “I will fetch you some water, so that you may bathe and will bring you some clean clothes”

“Thank you Bella, it is very kind of you,” his voice sounded rough from the dryness in his throat.

The water that she brought felt refreshing as he splashed it over his head and face. It was hot in the room and he walked over to draw back the drapes, allowing the daylight flood in. As he opened the window, the cool breeze blew on his skin, as it carried its freshness through the bedchamber.

“Tom?” Her voice was so soft that he first thought that he had imagined it.

He turned back toward the bed as he saw her eyes flutter open; he was at her side in a second.

“M, oh M, you are alright! My love!” he almost cried.

She tried to give him a weak smile. Her lips were dry and she tried to wet then with her tongue.

“Here,” he said gently as he lifted the water to her mouth.

She felt so very weak; she looked up in to his face, “What happened?” she asked looking upon the tired lines of his face, “Have I been ill?”

His rich laugh filled the room; it was one of pure joy.

“Oh M, you are wonderful,” he said, gently kissing her forehead.

* * * * *

The late summer sun hung low in the sky; it still felt quite warm even though autumn was just around the corner. The lemon-coloured blanket was spread out beneath the leafy arms of the weeping willow tree. The dappled sunlight filtered through the branches, as she lay in the shade, her head propped against the feather pillow. She was asleep; she looked like a porcelain doll, as her translucent skin gave her a fragile look. Her golden hair was braided loosely down the back of her head.

He took a deep sigh at the sight of her. As he thought of what had passed, or more to the point, what could have happened if he had not come upon Mr Lewis when he did, his heart ached painfully. Life would never be the same again, but he thanked the Lord for every day that he had given them since her illness. She seemed to be recovering well. Her strength was returning daily and he was happy just to be able to look upon her delicate features.

He brushed aside a branch and came to sit beside her. Sweeping a loose strand of hair from her face, he smiled lovingly down at her.

“Tom?” she whispered as she slowly awoke, her smile forcing the drowsiness away.

He leant down and kissed her.

“Where have you been?” she enquired. “You have been away all day?”

“Ah, now that would be telling, and I would not want to ruin the surprise by telling you,” he teased.

“Oh Tom, you are a one, do not fun with me,” she laughed.

“I shall not tell even if you force me.” His face was alight with mischief.

“For now, Thomas Bradley, I shall let you have your secrets. Still, when I am well enough, I shall tickle them all out of you!”

“Is that so, Miss Austin?” He smiled. “When you are well enough, I hope that you will do more than just tickle me.” His face became serious. It had been a long time since he’d had the pleasure of the soft curves of her body against his own.

“Well, I cannot imagine what you might mean by that,” she giggled.

“Is that so? I am sure that you do know; maybe this will remind you?”

He laid his body alongside hers and took her fragile form in the protection of his arms. His lips were soft, but demanding. In an instant, the little fire deep in the pit of her stomach ignited, bubbling up. She had an overwhelming longing to feel his strong hands on her naked skin, to feel his urgency as they shared their love, and the object of his passion moving within her.

He reluctantly raised his head; his blue eyes swam with his own desire. He had fought the urge to take her here under the protection of this ancient tree, but he was sure that Sir John would not be at all pleased if he happened across them.

“So tell me,” she said rising to sit, “What did the constable say?”

He looked into her tired eyes. He did not want to tell her, but he knew that this moment would come whether he wanted it to or not. He hesitated. Should he tell her all of it—or just some?

“Well?” she persisted.

He cleared his throat as if he was about to give a speech.

“It was said… Well, the news had come to Mr Grainger’s attention that, after your refusal of his proposal, Mr Lewis had decided that he should take you as his wife. Mr Grainger was quite appalled at the way he had boasted and bragged about it. He had almost hinted at the fact that in doing so, he would come into the Whitmore estate.”