Journey's End (Marlbrook) (34 page)

Approaching thirty years of age, Sarah had been obliged to accept that her looks could not hold out a great deal longer and meeting Mr Pritchard had been a timely event.  She had not entertained him in her bed for several weeks after their first encounter, and by then he had been willing to do anything to have her.  Of course, she had made the most of the opportunity.

Motherly tendencies continued to elude Sarah.  She was forever wary,
frightened
that one
day the natural feelings might emerge.  Her concern had so far proved to be a waste.

She had also given thought to her sister’s circumstances.  Laura owed her a debt of thanks.  Self-sacrifice was something
for which
the woman
held
a fondness, and it was not every day that one was given the opportunity to practice one’s talents.  Anyway, she had not come to claim the child or
to
see Laura.

In her hand, Sarah held the unassuming piece of retribution.  The time she had spent in the
New World
as a whore would stay with her.  The nightmares of her defilement would never desist, and she laid the debt directly at
Lord Marlbrook’s
feet.  Lord Henry Marlbrook and his precious family would pay.

CHAPTER
FORTY
– Her story

Laura’s journal was dotted with questioning statements.  “The sins of the fathers”
was
one of the sayings that crept into her erratic thoughts.

“Hope is all that matters.  She has been my world and my salvation.  Why destiny has decreed that it shall be my decision that will affect another generation, I fail to comprehend.  I feel in my heart that the time has come for me to unfold the past.  If I am successful, perhaps I can guide another to avoid some of the pitfalls of life.  I shall look back in the trust that we can move forward.”

Laura held one of the old worn journals that contained her story, permitting a wave of nostalgia to pass over her as she recalled the words housed between the covers.  She placed her writings on the lacquered morning table, awaiting Hope’s arrival.

Hope looked to her mother, staring through identical eyes.  Laura could see the promise of great beauty in her daughter, one that would surpass Sarah's.  But more importantly, she knew Hope to be free of the selfishness that her mother had displayed.  As Hope began to read, Laura quietly withdrew.  Soon
,
she would tell her daughter the truth.

Hope closed the pages of the journal.  Tears fell in steady droplets, indicating the level of perception that the reader had acquired, and it was then that Laura began the story of Sarah.

Dawn arrived on the day of Sarah’s expected arrival to find a household ruled by uncertainty.  Hope had chosen to remain in her room to prepare physically and mentally to greet her birth mother for the first time.  Laura respected her request.  She acknowledged the trial that Hope must endure, while suffocating in the recognition that there was nothing that she could do to ease the child’s pain. 
It was a
distressing situation for any mother to find herself in.

Sarah was late.  The grandfather clock in the foyer counted
the minutes in regimental style
until half after the hour
,
when at last the carriage wheels were heard skimming the gravel drive.

Laura watched the scene unfold from the upstairs landing.  The large
rectangular
window afforded her an unrestricted view of events.

Sarah made an impressive entrance.  Mysterious in a cloak cut from burgundy velvet cloth
,
the hood hung protectively about her features, admitting only a glimpse of the black hair hidden within its folds.  Although her husband was by far the larger of the two, he appeared to be submissive.  He clung to his wife as they trekked the steps to Laura’s
front
door.

Sarah first caught sight of her sister as Laura descended the internal stairs, and what she saw made her reel.  The drab, unimaginative girl had been replaced by a sophisticate.  This woman would not be so inclined to excuse the behaviour of a selfish creature
,
nor would she dismiss the callousness of a mother
who
had failed to inquire after her child.

“Dear sister,” Sarah began, “I have just this minute learned that you are a married woman. Congratulations are in order for this impressive achievement.”

Sarah made no move toward Laura nor did she take her eyes from her sister.  Like a hawk
,
she evaluated
Laura
.  “Your inheritance of a title appears to have had no
e
ffect on you
,
for I swear that you have not changed since I last saw you.”

Sarah’s words were clearly laden with spite, but she had underestimated Laura’s abilit
y to reply.

“And I, Sarah, must congratulate you on your husband
,
for you appear to have not changed either, and h
e appears not to have noticed.”

Saddened, Laura realised that after a span of fifteen years
,
nothing had changed
. T
he loving sister she had longed for continued in her opposing role.  She hardened her resolve.

“Sister
, l
et us not quarrel,” Laura began.  “If you have come to see your daughter
,
then you find her well. I cannot convey
to you
my joy that you wish to
finally
meet with her.”  Laura watched Sarah closely.  “Indeed,
Sarah,
I am also relieved to
find that you have prospered.”

Laura looked upon the lovely features of her sibling, a trifle hardened but
,
in general
,
the years had been kind.  Laura
waited patiently
, hoping to gain some insight into why Sarah
had really come home
.  None was forthcoming.

Hope entered the room amid silence.  Her countenance was grave, but her youthful features could not entirely hide the natural inquisitiveness that presents itself when addressing one
’
s mother for the first time.

Hope conducted herself as any refined young lady would and let
go of
none of her recently acquired knowledge.  For all intents and purposes, Hope greeted her “Aunt”.

During the return journey to their rented accommodation, Sarah’s loathing fermented and soured.  The moment the butler opened the door to their establishment
,
Sarah vented her rage.

Eric Pritchard extended his hat to the maid
,
who waited demurely for the Mistress to remove her coat.  The interval would be long but not uneventful.

Sarah focused her attention on an innocent plant perched on the morning table.  Her interest in the tiny shrub was merely a brief endorsement of the object
’
s existence
,
before she threw it through the air with all of her might.  Her aim was true.  The plant collided with the opposite wall and supplied just the right sound effects.

Eric lived with these incidents and no longer bothered to feign surprise.  Instead
,
he grabbed his wife in a bear hug, rendering her inactive and keeping her safe.

“My sister was his mistress, and I wanted, no
-
I needed her to be his whore.  I deserved to see her squirm while trying to rationalise lying on her back in payment for her cherished child.  How could a Lord of such distinction have married someone like her?  The sick bastard!  She goddamn married the
bastard
!”  Sarah screamed, as she had done those many years before, over and over and over.

When the fit of rage finally receded, a rather sadistic smirk appeared.  “The who
re,” Sarah said quietly, “m
y sister, the righteous
whore
.” 
T
he laughter that followed in
its wake mingled with insanity.

CHAPTER
FORTY
-ONE
– His story

The day had started like any other.  The children were hard at their studies in the schoolroom and Lady Maureen was, as usual, locked away in her darkened room with her headache powder for company.

Thomas missed the physical side to life.  Paperwork had replaced manual labour and somewhere along the way
,
his title had erected invisible boundaries that separated him from the servants.

The butler knocked at the study door before ushering a dishevelled messenger into Thomas’ presence.  The man had travelled from
London
to deliver an important communication.  The paper was significant in its own right to warrant his signature.  Special deliveries
,
in the handwriting of some obscure personage and origin, bring with it a natural aversion to what lies inside.  Good news has no need of constraints.

Thomas heeded his instincts that gave him warning, and he waited for privacy before releasing the contents.

Descending into the comfort of his favourite chair, the warmth of the fire failed to comfort him.  He studied the article.  The letter originated from a Barrister’s office, the official seal another unwelcome addition that
fuelled
his concerns.

Sturdy fingers tapped a steady rhythm upon the smooth surface, displaying his reluctance to unveil the contents.

Finally
,
Thomas
gathered the courage to
open the seal.

“Dear sir,

At the request of a person that I am not at liberty to divulge, our law firm has been tasked with writing to you to inform you of certain facts that have recently been brought to our attention.

The matter we are about to divulge is one of the gravest proportions.  Our recommendation follows that
should
any doubt arise as to the authenticity of the material about to be presented, you should contact the writer direct
ly
.  You can rest assured that our firm values its reputation and has gone to great pains to verify everything that you are about to read.  The subject material is within the bounds of criminal law.”

Thomas halted.  The letter had been signed and dated five days ago.  Thomas discovered that his interest had been totally suppressed.  The premonition that no good would come from the examination of this document sat with him and would not be shaken from his thoughts.  Whatever the topic, it was of a serious nature.

At length, when no other options presented themselves, Thomas
reassured
himself that whatever secret the quality parchment was about to give up
,
the events had probably already occurred.  And history, for good or bad, could not be changed.

The writings continued
:

“The current Lord of Marlbrook, Henry, is noted in the records of His Majesty, to be the son of Lord William Marlbrook.”

Thomas wrenched the paper from his sight, snatching at the possibility that the correspondence had been wrongly transferred.  Expectations were high as he re-examined the handwriting, flawless in its presentation, but the address proved to be correct and the greeting confirmed his ownership.  The puzzle depended.  What would oblige a Lawyer to bore him with Marlbrook’s history?

Thomas’ curiosity had finally been awakened.

“Lord William befriended the son of a neighbouring estate, a Master Howard Ashley, soon to become Lord Howard Ashley.  Both were of similar age.  It is documented that their friendship was such that they passed most of their time together during their extreme youth
,
accompanied by the daughter of a respectable neighbouring family, Mistress Virginia Reed.

In due course, Master Howard and Mistress Virginia would marry.  The close relationship that had formed between the men during their childhood did not carry on past the marriage vows taking place.

The houses of Ashley and Marlbrook, we must note for the purpose of providing background to this story, are not unaccustomed to estrangement.  Historians have recorded throughout their ancient chronicles the ongoing battles between the two.  The reasons recorded vary, but the relationship appears to have taken on a regular pattern
,
ensuring that few generations have enjoyed a close bond.  Rivalry,
for
the period
with which we
are concerned, appears to have developed over the woman,
Miss Reed
.
 
This is
,
in part
,
speculation.”