Journey's End (Marlbrook) (19 page)

Laura’s journal entry expressed finality.

“Thoughts placed in one’s mind can fester
,
and time has a trait of allowing corrupt notions to gain in credibility.  I have succumbed to its entreaties.  Doubt has surfaced as to Thomas’ real motives, emotion feeding on the reality that his title is one of “Lord”.

I am, as Sarah states, naïve and it appears that affection may not have been Thomas’ driver.  I must now strive to reconcile my thoughts and feelings if I
am
ever to sample peace again.”

#

Lady
Catherine
sensed
that something was amiss with Laura
;
she
could smell
trouble
, b
ut s
o far all her attempts to pry information loose from the girl had failed, her endeavours for the most part going unnoticed.  She could only assume that Laura was exhausted
,
as an aftermath of the excitement
,
and had a need to be left alone.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-
FOUR
– Complications

The library at Marlbrook featured subdued décor, yet validated the term grand in the same breath.  A wealth of history occupied the walls, row upon systematic row of books standing to attention.  The measure of work caged upon the shelves defied calculation.

Laura first wrote of the Library.

“The Library is a place that serves to renew my strength when my spirits are low, and when surrounded by the ghosts of
f
amous writers
,
it spurs me to want great outcomes from my own humble beginnings.”

Laura awoke feeling claustrophobic and on the verge of tears, the state a familiar one and the reaction routine.

Sleep eluded Laura on occasion
.
I
rrational phobias surfac
ed
to keep her awake, scars from her recent upheavals.  On nights such as this, Laura used the Library to absorb the gap.

Casting her feet to the floor, Laura sampled the cold before snatching her shawl from its resting place.  Confident that the household slept
,
Laura crept quietly along the polished corridors, a cocoon of wool sheltering her from the lingering winter chill.

On arrival, Laura surveyed the familiar territory of the library.  Four colossal leather
-
bound seats dominated the scene, with tables strategically positioned to either entertain a book or a gentleman’s glass.  The giant chairs enticed Laura to settle within their welcoming confines.  She did so, inhaling the characteristic smell of leather, while her hands savoured the touch that only leather can provide.

When Laura vacated the seat, she made her way to the large expanse of drapes that covered the furthermost wall.  She assembled the sumptuous fabric to hang like sentinels at the windows’ fringe.

Marlbrook’s manicured grounds were coloured in ebony and ash, the unearthly grey accentuated on occasion by portions of straggling white snow.  The darkness failed to disguise the landscape
’
s impressive beauty.

Laura discarded her shawl, her arms temporarily freed of its weight.  As she selected a book
,
Laura saluted the unknown patrons who had painstakingly categorised the inmates, her limited
time
here enhanced by their labours.

Inexplicable incidents call upon logic to prevail
;
the standard churches fear these formations
.
T
he history of Ashley Manor lay within Laura’s grasp to cherish or discard
;
either way
,
the conclusion was hers.  Thomas’ history might have been joined with Laura’s, and she wondered how many ill-fated lovers had declared this same melancholy sentiment.

“Ashley, Lord Thomas Ashley.”  Laura
whispered
his name and, as recollections surged, private wounds reopened.  The flood of emotion became too great for Laura to bear.  She drew the book close, clutching the object to her, as if the action somehow recreated a link.

Behind Laura, the library door silently opened and then closed without her agreement.  The moon poured light in through the unrestricted glass, the wooden surround conducting itself as a frame for an artist’s dream.  Laura was at the picture’s centre.  Blond-white hair overflowed to waist length, capping a prudish nightgown that was even whiter still, the pale backdrop donating a fragile quality to the scene.

Lord Henry likened his craving for Laura to an exacting thirst.  Thomas was at fault.  If his friend had been more obliging in the beginning, then he would have sampled the woman and been done with it.  Though
,
on reflection, he somehow doubted his last thought.

Under normal circumstances
,
he preferred a lusty wench to satisfy his cravings, one proficient in entertaining him, not a woman burdened with complexity like Laura.  Inexperienced in affairs of the heart, Lord Henry was well versed in penetration and those words summarised his self-assessment.

Laura’s sister, on the other hand, had behaved like most of the other women in his life.  Her ripe body was his for the taking, which of course he had, but she was easy to pluck and pretty girls like her were everywhere. 

Sarah had become demanding of late.  Her childish tantrums constantly forced him to be on guard, and tonight he had witnessed a particularly aggressive attack.  Sarah wandered down a predictable path, the one that all his mistresses eventually travelled - agreeable enough in the initial stages but ending up desirous of more than was reasonable.  He had a wife, and therefore he had no want to be troubled by a lover and her nagging.

Marriage had taught Lord Henry a few of life’s uninvited lessons.  The true character of his wife had appeared from day one, the vain, selfish creature demonstrating no more worth than a decorative showpiece.

While Emily meant nothing to him
,
the exact opposite could be said of Laura, who goaded him with her saintly ways.  Common sense told Lord Henry to walk away.  Women like Laura could capture and trap the best of men, but he found that he could not.

Laura, as always, was hesitant to leave the intimacy of the library, but tonight she required the privacy of her chamber to deal with the memories she knew would arise.  Laura retrieved her shawl before making her way to the door.

Lord Henry remained unmoving, unsure of what would happen next, as Laura came to a standstill before him, the Master of the house.

Laura’s sharp intake of breath could be heard reverberating throughout the chamber, along with the thud her book made as it collided with the floor.

“My Lord, you startled me.”  Once the allegation had aired
,
Laura calmed, but it was not long before her newly formed smile faded.

Laura cursed herself.  Her negligent behaviour had obviously placed Lord Henry in an awkward predicament.  Hastily, in a series of poorly co-ordinated moves, she repositioned her shawl around her.  Then
,
unconsciously
,
she bent down to retrieve her book.  Irritating Lord Henry seemed to have become habitual.

“I am sorry that I have bothered you, my
L
ord, but in all honesty
,
I had no idea that you had use for this room at such a late hour.  Your mother did sanction my request, although in hindsight, perhaps it was your authority that I should have sought.”

Lord Henry focused his full attention on Laura during her lengthy and totally uncalled-for explanation.

Laura added in quick succession.  “I bid you goodnight, sir.”

Lord Henry did not move from Laura’s path as she had expected.  Fright resurfaced and it appeared with just cause, as Lord Henry reached out to bar her retreat.

“My Lord, I have apologised?”

Lord Henry’s protracted silence was sinister, the quiet unnatural and alarming.  Fear protected Laura by
temporarily
removing her ability to think.

At length,
Lord Henry yielded.  His voice escaped from the shadows, the noise raspy and hostile.  “I see you have uncovered a book to entertain you this fine evening.”

The comment published as harmless, but in conjunction with his conduct
,
his words were menacing.  Roughly
,
he snatched the book from Laura’s hands
,
leaving her stunned by his insolent action.

He censured Laura.  “I am certain that you won’t mind sharing the topic that has caught your fancy. I would give more than you can imagine, Laura, to obtain insight into that which has penetrated your defences when I cannot.”

Lord Henry’s remark aired as caustic and reproachful.  He controlled the moment.

Lord Henry
carried out the pretence of scanning the pages, making no attempt to hide his aversion to the subject of Laura’s choosing.

“Well
,
madam, it appears that you have formed an attachment to the ruins at Ashley Manor, so much so that you gad about in the middle of the night reading about the hovel.”

Lord Henry’s sarcastic delivery was intentional.  Baiting Laura endorsed his anger
,
thus preventing any disquiet from forming.

“Pray satisfy my curiosity
. My cynicism has reared and tells me that perhaps it is the owner that interests you and not the historic value of the site.”

Without warning
,
Lord Henry reached out and wrenched Laura to him, the strength used to carry out the deed sufficient to make her cry out.  His mouth completed the assault.  Merciless in its hunt
,
Laura’s
lips were bruised in his pursuit of conquest
,
his hold cruel in its method of constraint.

Powerful arms enveloped Laura but her captors lacked affection
,
and when Lord Henry’s lips finally departed hers he stayed close.  His lingering sneer articulated his sordid story.

Lord Henry relaxed.  The demonstration of his prowess had delivered Laura a strong message.  He governed her, and his wishes dominated hers.

Laura’s hand met Lord Henry’s face with force, the slap disturbing the quiet
and
disproving his
version
of events.

Laura retrieved the book that had been thrust from his hands during the scuffle, and too late she saw the harm her trivial
undertaking
had caused.  The mistake made, she knew not how to rectify it.

Lord Henry observed Laura
,
as she focused her attention on the tiresome volume.  Her efforts obliged him to stand with his pride in tatters while a servant got the better of him.

Laura made to leave, but Lord Henry no longer held any patience with her.  Laura found herself slammed against the oak entry, the exquisite
panelling
digging into the soft flesh of her back.  Lord Henry pressed his body hard against hers and denied her any form of escape.

“Come
,
madam,” Lord Henry mocked.  “Let us not fight. There are better uses for a night like this.”

Lord Henry’s coarse whisper added dread to Laura’s mounting fears.  She had been eight years old the last time that she had experienced physical abuse
,
and with the left over memories
,
tears stung her eyes.

Lord Henry could taste Laura’s terror.  His manhood had become erect in anticipation but with the onset of her tears his purpose divided, and he discovered a rarely used conscience nagged at his mind.

For a short interlude
,
Lord Henry sampled torment, but just as disgust had begun to take shape
,
Laura squirmed beneath him.  He deemed her movements to be seductive and any traces of sympathy were removed.

Laura’s apprehension donated a temporary strength to her slight body, which was unable to govern what happened to it next
,
but to no avail.

Laura spoke, the release barely audible, her plea directed at any decency that might reside within the man.

“Please, my Lord! Do you not remember that you condemned your friend in this very house for trying to take what was not his? I held you in high regard for that deed.”  Desperation showed.  “If you release me, I give you my solemn word that no one shall ever hear of this night.”

Laura willed herself to look at Lord Henry, but she had misjudged her enemy.  Her appeal had been designed for a rational human being, but the strong smell of alcohol made her realise the hopelessness of her situation.