REMEMBRANCE (14 page)

* * * * *

“Oh Miss, whatever is the matter?” Bella’s voice sounded at her side.

Maria lifted her head from her hands, “Where has Gran gone?” she whispered.

“What Miss? Oh look at the state of you, how are you to go to the picnic looking all washed out and pale?”

Maria wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, sniffing. What was going on? Was she dreaming again? She was sure she had been talking to her gran not two minutes ago.

Then, without any warning, the sharp pain in her head returned, blinding her for a few seconds.

Bella noticed the change. “Miss, I can prepare some of my herbal tea that should set you up nicely and should relieve some of your tension,” she offered.

“I do not want any tea and I certainly do not want to go to the picnic; I am never going to leave this room again,” Maria snapped.

“Oh Miss, you cannot mean it. It is such a lovely day and you will be sorely missed.”

“I don’t care,” she cried stubbornly.

“Come, Miss Austin, whatever it is, it cannot be all that bad.” There was alarm in the young girl’s voice, “I’m sure Mr Bradley would miss your company.”

“I doubt that,” she replied crossly.

“Now, now, Miss. I’m sure Mr Bradley has his faults, but he has always remained steadfast where you were concerned,” Bella assured her.

“He has?” Maria asked hopefully, looking Bella in the face.

“Yes Miss; he would never have a bad word said against you.”

“Never?”

I bet that was before Miss Cartland managed to sink her claws into him, she thought bitterly. She frowned, trying to coerce herself from this stupor by convincing herself that she was better than this, and she had to do something about her situation. One thing was certain—she wasn’t going to give him up to that horrid girl without a fight. She thought for a little while before something deep in her head clicked and she jumped off the bed.

“It is as someone once told me,” she suddenly said, but where or when she could not remember.

“What’s that Miss?” Bella asked.

“That it has only just begun. Come Bella, you have to make me look as beautiful as you can.”

“That won’t be too difficult, Miss,” Bella smiled at her mistress’s newfound energy.

* * * * *

The picnic party had gathered enthusiastically at the front of the house; the air was filled with laughter as they collected their baskets from the carriages.

“Are we all here?” Sir John asked excitedly.

They all nodded, eager to leave.

“Come on then,” he said, waving his hand and the group started to follow the chubby gentleman down the drive.

Thomas looked around anxiously. Where was Maria? She was not with the picnic party. “Wait! Miss Austin is not with us!” he shouted to them.

“Oh dear; where has that girl got to?” Sir John said disappointedly for he was eager for them to be on their way.  “Joseph, have you seen my niece?”

“No, Sir, I am afraid that I have not.”

“Oh dear, oh dear. We shall miss the best of the weather if she does not hurry. Will you go and see if she is in her room?”

Joseph moved away and disappeared through the large door.

“I will wait for Miss Austin,” Alfred Grainger offered, “You all go on ahead and we will catch up with you directly.”

“Capital, capital,” Sir John chanted seemingly unconcerned that he could be overheard.

Thomas hung uneasily back from the rest. He did not like the idea of Maria being alone with Alfred Grainger, knowing that he should have been the one to walk with her. He had wanted to speak with her about the previous evening and this would have been a great opportunity to do so.

“Come, Mr Bradley,” Lucy Cartland said as she slipped her arm through his, “let us catch up with the others.”

Thomas smiled down at her upturned face. He found Miss Cartland pleasant enough, but if he was honest, he did not like the way she presumed that they were an item, which seemed to give everyone else that opinion as well. There was no understanding between them and he had certainly never made her an offer. Reluctantly, he let himself be led towards the others in the party.

Maria waited until she saw the last of the guests disappear from view. It was as she had predicted—Mr Grainger being the attentive gentleman he was—had waited for her to join him. She knew that she was behaving appallingly, but she needed Mr Grainger to set her plan in motion.

“Ah, Mr Grainger,” she said coming from the house, “has everyone already left?” she asked innocently.

“Only just, Miss Austin. And may I say that you look charming today?” He faltered. He had been quite stunned at the picture she presented, and she had observed the effect she had on him at her arrival. She just hoped that it would have the same effect on Tom when he saw her.

“Shall we catch up to the others, Mr Grainger?”

He had trouble taking his eyes off her, and barely managed to stutter, “Yes… yes … of course.”

She placed her arm through his, giving him a small smile.

By the time the others came into view, they were nearly at the top of Upper Bank.

Thomas had kept looking back every few steps to see if Maria and Mr Grainger were anywhere to be seen. The group just started placing the large blanket on the soft grass when he spotted them. He stood watching as they neared, his eyes widening and the breath caught in his throat at the sight of Maria. She looked like… like an angel. The fine garments of her white dress floated about her legs with the slight breeze they encountered on the hillside. Her golden hair was pinned at the sides and fell in gentle curls about the creaminess of her shoulders. As she looked up at Mr Grainger, her face was alight with laughter.

Jealousy struck deep in the pit of his stomach and he could feel his heart racing in his chest. He felt the trickle of perspiration as it appeared on his brow and his hands had become sticky as they clenched at his side. Was he to bear this? This had to be a façade; she was not Mr Grainger’s… but his.

The languorous sun hung high in the blue sky, and although the wind blew gently on the long grass, causing it to ripple like waves upon the sea, it was still quite warm. The picnic party edged the blue blanket and helped themselves to the abundance of food laid out in its centre. The clink of glasses that were held out sounded like small chimes as Thomas uncorked bottles of wine and filled them for the thirsty guests. Miss Cartland moaned excessively about her aversion to the heat and fussed endlessly about fine brown freckles that appeared on her skin.

Mr Grainger was more than attentive to Maria as he lay on his side, propped up on his elbow. He talked about anything that came into his head—some of which bored her to distraction, but she still managed to laugh courteously.

Sir John, in all his merriment, grew a darker shade of pink from the amount of wine that he drank and insisted on sharing his silly little jokes with the entire party.

Maria desperately tried to ignore the way Lucy Cartland practically threw herself at Tom. She was disgusted when she saw the way her hand touched his thigh at every opportunity. She was beginning to hate young Miss Cartland. She did not dislike this young lady because of who she was—that was something that had been bred into her, and she could not be held responsible for her breeding—but because she had taken away the only person Maria truly loved.

“Why do you not go and sit in the shade, Miss Cartland?” Thomas said tightly.

He was irritated by her repeated advances, for they were getting progressively overt now that she was quite drunk. He had a reputation to uphold and this redhead was becoming a pain.

“Will you not come and sit with me Mr Bradley?” she said whimsically.

“No,” he snapped, but realising how rude that must have seemed to everyone, quickly added, “Pray forgive me, I shall be there momentarily.”

He had barely been able to take his eyes of Maria for the past hour. The way Mr Grainger wooed her was making him feel sick. He so very much wanted to go over and punch the young man, but he had managed to keep himself in check. Still, he had his own problems to deal with, for Miss Cartland had draped herself all over him the moment they had left Whitmore Manor and he was now quite bored with the young lady. He had guessed that Maria’s behaviour the evening before had been caused by her irritation with Miss Cartland monopolising Tom’s attention. Was she jealous of this red-haired vixen? He hoped that she was. He felt as if he could stand it no longer; he wanted to go over there and drag her off and confess his feelings for her. Would he have to sit here still as Maria laughed at her young suitor’s jokes? How long could he bear it?

Maria sat with the breeze on her face, as her loose curls waved about her neck. She felt a little light-headed from the wine and knew that it was having an effect on the way she flirted with Mr Grainger. She took another mouthful of the amber liquid and let it slide down her throat. Was her plan working? she wondered a little fuzzily. The problem was that, if she left it any longer, Mr Grainger at her side here would become totally besotted. She had the terrible feeling of guilt that she had been encouraging him wholeheartedly.

She turned her attention to the view and drained the last of her drink. Mr Grainger filled it almost immediately and she smiled appreciatively. The view stretched for miles from where she sat; she took in the gentle sweep of the hills back across the fields, Whitmore Manor to the left, which looked tiny from the top of Upper Bank, and to the right, she could clearly make out the roof of Nedgely Hall. She spotted a horse grazing in the fields below and she marvelled at how small it looked—just like a piece from a child’s play set.

She noted that Miss Cartland had finally moved into the shade of the nearest tree. She swallowed hard; her nerves would fail her, she thought. The next part of her plan needed to happen now or not at all. She gulped at her full glass and finished it without hesitation—for courage, she told herself.

Taking a deep breath, she excused herself from Mr Grainger’s side and slipped quietly away from the group. Feeling a little unsteady on her feet from the effects of the wine, she giggled as she staggered a little up the bank of the hill. Once she reached the top, she turned, as if admiring the view, even though all she really wanted was the confirmation that Tom was watching her. Once she was certain that she had his attention, she stepped over the top and disappeared from view.

Thomas had seen her every move, for he had watched her as she moved away from the party. He felt a little amused by her odd behaviour, for she was drunk and he had seen the way she had giggled to herself as she staggered over the top of Upper Bank, apparently thinking that no one had noticed, but he had. He had noticed everything since the first moment she had walked into the ballroom at Whitmore Manor. He knew exactly where she was going, as they had gone there many times as children. After waiting for a few minutes, he slipped away himself.

She stood within the small stream hidden from anyone that would be at the top, for the small group of trees barred their view. Her skirts were hitched up in her hands exposing the silkiness of her calves. The running water cooled her heated feet. She was still giggling to herself as the water tickled her toes. She was feeling very drunk now and wished she had not had that last glass. How was she to control herself in this state?

This is where Thomas found her; to him, she was a sight to behold—she was like a water goddess, exposing most of her lower legs as she dipped her small feet in the clear water. She wobbled slightly on her feet and was still chuckling to herself. He watched her for a few minutes, hidden within the shelter of the trees. How he longed to walk over to her and take her in his arms, to whisper his feelings for her against the soft lobe of her ear. She looked so innocent, but yet, tantalisingly erotic. Her perfectly formed figure was silhouetted through the fine fabric of her dress, as the sun’s light shone behind her. He ached with awareness. What was she doing to him? She was bewitching. He knew that he could not stand there any longer.

“I thought that I would find you here,” he said on his approach.

There was a slight flush on her cheeks and several of the loose curls stuck to her neck.

“It is far too hot to sit out on the top,” she said, sighing. “It is much cooler down here.”

He stood at the water’s edge, admiring the expanse of flesh she so carelessly showed as she tried to gather up her pretty dress, trying to prevent it from getting wet.

Drunkenly, she looked over at him. “Come on Tom, what are you waiting for?” She beckoned him to join her.

Thomas hesitated for a moment, not wishing to take advantage of her intoxicated state. Finally, no longer able to resist her, he pulled off his boots, treading carefully to come and stand beside her within the flowing water of the stream.

He laughed silkily and deeply, which caused her heart to give a little jump.

“You are right; it is much more pleasant in here.”

“Pray, forgive me Tom, for I think that I am a little drunk,” she tried to apologize, but her words were slurred.

He was highly amused that she actually admitted to the fact that she had drunk too much.

Her heart was beating so fast at his closeness. She was vividly aware of his strong masculine allure; his manly aroma invaded her nostrils and she felt an ache low down in her abdomen. Never before had she been more aware of a man than she was of him at this moment. She wanted to unbutton his shirt and press her face to his chest, so that she could breathe in his masculine scent and taste the saltiness of his skin. She shook her head, trying to shake the image she had formed in her mind. It had to be the alcohol. She needed to distract herself from her wicked thoughts.