Journey's End (Marlbrook) (26 page)

Laura hung her head in defeat, and one lonely, unfettered word escaped.  “No.”

The delivery served to uplift Thomas’ spirits but cast Laura into conflict.  She had no liking to inflict additional harm
,
but love could not be hers for she had forfeited her rights.

Laura knew what must be done before Thomas came to comprehend her circumstances in their entirety
,
for then irreparable damage would be done.  Regardless of their schoolroom fantasies, Thomas had his world and she hers. 

“Sir, since we are being honest with each other in our dealings, pray convey to me the condition of your wife. I trust the strain of carrying your child is a joyous one and not fraught with the illnesses that one so often hears about?”

Thomas surveyed the landscape through the open doorway, and when he spoke
,
he did so without glancing in Laura’s direction.

“Laura.”  The utterance sounded weary and strained.  “Laura. Help me to shed some light on how our lives became so complicated, when our only sin has been to find love?”

Thomas’ intimate appeal touched Laura, erasing her will to resist.

Thomas turned to face Laura.  “I asked you to become my wife
,
you know, and it is a great pity that my letter cannot be produced to console you. Laura, I had to locate you to see the truth for myself
,
for I have lived as one possessed since our last meeting. The mark you left on me is one that I am unable to erase.”

As Thomas’ confession died away
,
the natural affinity between them intensified and Thomas held Laura in a warm, loving embrace before taking her to bed.

Desire was tidal
and
the yearning physical, as wave upon wave of tenderness flowed to bind them.  Thomas’ mouth, greedy and wanting, longed to tas
te all of Laura.

Laura’s participation urged Thomas on.  He explored the glory of Laura’s body and his mouth sampled where his hands strayed.  Their naked bodies lay entwined.  Thomas’ impatience defeated him
, as h
e gazed upon Laura’s beauty
,
nearly climaxing as he lovingly entered her.  Their time of neglect was over.  They would be whole again.

Tears discharged to demonstrate Laura’s joy, chaperoned by a surge of a love that no form of expression could describe.

Laura lay in Thomas’ loving embrace, their hearts and bodies reluctant to withdraw.  Tenderly
,
she kissed the hard-worn skin of his hand before guiding the large, strong object to her exposed breast.  The intimacy of her action renewed their pleasure, bringing them instantly to a fevered pitch.  Thomas again united with Laura, his thrusting incited by a want that had yet to be sated.  Laura matched him in his quest.

Unwilling to remove himself
,
Thomas had a longing to hide where it was safe and warm, until a soft cry dragged them from their temporary haven.  This was Laura’s existence.

Thomas welcomed the sight that had been denied him, and when envy knocked at his door
,
he freely admitted the feeling as Laura cradled the child that should have been his.

When the first sharp pang of awareness dawned on Thomas, the exposure broke so suddenly
that
he began to doubt his reasoning.  He had a vast number of emotions to sift through.  Jealousy he sanctioned, as the vision of what he had lost was flaunted before him.  Sorrow he also acknowledged.  Laura had spoken the truth.  Their lives belonged to others and with his acceptance came loathing.  Thomas wanted to punish someone or something.

Thomas lifted himself from the warmth to dress, and sadly it was during this brief period of activity that he found what he had been searching for.  As the portal opened
,
he saw Laura’s story and with it the flaws.  Part of him disputed whether he was ready to seek the answer.

Thomas’ silence threatened them both.  The way forward in any direction would be complex.

Amid clouded thoughts that were dedicated to the picture that Laura had outlined, Thomas completed his grooming.  He shifted through masses of information in the hope of proving his assumptions wrong, but the conclusion was always the same.  Despair gripped him and he became weak under its morbid influence.  The
oak
dresser served as Thomas’ support.

At six months of age
,
the child had begun to show signs that beauty might be hers in later years.  The father’s stamp was indelible and the mother
’
s absent at this stage of her growth.  Her hair, as with most babies, was barely discernible
,
except for the dark growth sprouting from her crown, the ebony colour attributable to an absent donor.

“Tell me, madam,” Thomas began, his animosity rising to the fore.  “You have made no mention of the creature that you attribute to being your blood sister. Is the girl due back soon or is it that she has seen fit to abandon you when your need is most?”  Thomas did not bother waiting for Laura’s answer.  “But that could not be, and surely I must be stating these accusations in jest
,
for even she could not be so callous.”

Bile rose in Laura’s throat.  She was in no doubt as to where the interrogation headed, and, as a consequence, where it would then lead them too.

Thomas released his anger.  “And while I am about my inquiries, I pray that you are able to allay my concerns in a matter that has caused me great consternation these past months. One hears of some terrible tales that women endure during birthing?”

Laura could not lie anew to this man.  Thomas’ final query indicated the depth of his awareness.  The child became her protector, a barrier to cushion the censure, his words demanding and cruel.  No answer would satisfy Thomas’ quest.

“The child is not yours, Laura.”  In a sweeping motion Thomas lifted his hand and slapped his forehead as if admonishing himself for his own stupidity.  “It is your sister’s, madam!”

The plot became clearer with each second, and when the story ended
,
Thomas cried in a voice laden with anguish.  “My God
,
Laura, what have you done? You have sacrificed your future for hers!”

Thomas sat on the edge of the bed, his hands supporting his head.  When the awful truth descended upon him
,
the burden became too much to bear, as he added with a certain amount of irony, “And mine.”

Slowly
,
Thomas regained his feet.  Striding the few short paces to where his hat was located
,
he retrieved the item.  Thomas left the silence unbroken, as he walked out of the door and out of Laura’s life.

Thomas did not look back.  The anger he experienced had built with such intensity that it had yet to peak, and he would not trust himself to stay
,
for he would be sorely tempted to strike her.  He could not find it in his heart to forgive Laura.

Laura sat in the quiet, absent of any thought.  The minutes trickled slowly by.  The baby amused herself in her cot but even her smiles could not pull Laura from the depths of her despair.  The distress overtaking Laura became so immense that it
threatened to engulf her.

Laura’s friend beckoned to her, promising a release from her dark chasm.  Laura accepted the support and reached for her journal.

“If only once in my life I am to taste the sinful aspects of love
,
then today I have achieved my goal, but to have gained and lost so much in such a short time is regret enough.

I have been forced to confront the pain that I have caused another by my deeds and the effect is far more reaching than I had ever contemplated.

My decisions made in earnest, I note
,
were restricted by my narrow outlook.  Never once did I consider the rights of the man I love and that there may have been, had I ventured his displeasure, a future for us and
for
the child.

I live now with this understanding
,
along with the consequences
,
but must for the sake of all concerned hold faith that the outcome will be justified.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-
THIRTY
– The cottage

Looking back, nature had been kind in concealing any outward signs of Sarah’s pregnancy until the fifth month, their departure given credence by the delay.  The sisters had been of like mind in not wanting to make a hurried exit.

Each sister had endured her own form of torment.  As Sarah’s figure had grown in proportion, Laura had to bear the brunt of her abuse.  Sarah, on the other hand, had grown to hate the child that dared stretch her lovely skin and robbed her of sleep with its incessant kicking.

Labour had begun on the morning of the seventeenth of November, the year of our Lord,
Seventeen
Hundred
and Thirty
.  Sarah had suffered.  Her confinement had been difficult, and for two days Laura had witnessed the torment that nature had inflicted upon Sarah’s swollen body.  On the morning of November the Nineteenth, at eight forty-five, Sarah had safely delivered a daughter into the world.

Laura’s expectations had risen.  She had
longed
for
Sarah to relent
;
no one could discard such a fragile offering, especially one so exquisite to behold.  Laura had been wrong. 
Thankfully t
he child had been too young to suffer from rejection, her exclusion from her mother’s side going unnoticed.

Sarah had slept peacefully, untroubled and uncaring.  All attempts at unity had been unsuccessful and that was the way it had stayed. 
Nevertheless
, in spite of everything, Laura managed to excuse her sister’s callous behaviour, charitable to the end.  Sarah, Laura had told herself, had come to know agony during the birth, and she had associated her suffering with the child.

The maternal bond absented itself and no amount of debate had brought it to the fore.  Within two weeks of the birth, Sarah had been eager to move on.

#

Lord Henry had selected the location of the cottage based on the merits of remoteness and the fact that few people knew of the dwelling's existence.  Isolating Laura had played an important part in his scheme.

Lord Henry had visited his daughter for the first time when she was three days old.  Laura had insisted that he hold his child and he had done so
,
but only to placate her.  The presence of a natural bond or love had not been instant for him
;
however
,
he was not totally devoid of feelings.  He could well appreciate how his daughter would conjure the protective instincts of those charged with her care.

The weeks had passed to become months, and his time of waiting was nearly over.  The child, at six months of age, was old enough for the “mother” to have grown fond of it, and, the winning angle, fear its loss.  Besides
,
after five months with only the baby for company
,
Laura would also be well versed in loneliness.

A clever man, Lord Henry had taken care to ensure his plans could not fail.  Only one obstacle existed that could stand in his way - his mother.  He had to consult her
,
out of necessity.

Lord Henry approached his mother as she sat in the drawing room.  “Mother, I am pleased to find you alone for we must speak, you and I, on a topic that is somewhat delicate in nature.”

Lady
Catherine
merely waited for Henry’s latest disclosure.  She had long upheld that it was no use fretting until you had something to fret about.  Her son was dear to her, but as she watched his nervous pacing, a habit acquired at ten years of age, she identified the sure sign that no good was about to be unveiled.  Mending bridges behind him was not uncommon
;
however
,
she tired of his exploits.

Lord Henry began. “There is no easy way that I can say this to you, madam, so I shall not insult your intelligence by trying to skirt about with false excuses. In this case
,
there are none. You are a grandmother.”

The tapping of Lady
Catherine
’s cane ceased.  “I take it then that you are not trying to tell me that Emily has produced a baby overnight or that I might spark some hope that perhaps you have made your statement in error?”

“No
,
mother.”  Lord Henry observed his mother carefully
;
he did not want his news to bring on apoplexy or the like.  He had a great deal more for her to cope with before he had finished.

“Ma’am, ordinarily I would not subject you to affairs of this nature, but the situation warrants that I tempt your displeasure. The mother is known to you and
you
once held her in great
favour while in your employ.”