An Untimely Romance: A Time Travel Romance (18 page)

“Miss Richardson, would
you do me the honour?”

Heather opened her eyes
and looked up. Not waiting for the man to finish his sentence, she hurriedly
agreed. After a quick glance at Florence for approval, she was swept away in Mr
Boswel’s arms, his posture firm and masterful as he took the lead.

Tilting his head so as
not to be overheard, he said softly, “Miss Richardson, I have never seen anyone
hold as much beauty as you do this evening. I have scarcely taken my eyes off
you for fear you would be whisked off by another.”

“I thought you looked
more than happy with Miss Thornber.”

Frank smiled an
unreadable smile, but added no comment. Projector-like images presented
themselves on passing as they waltzed their way between twirling couples. Lady
Haunchwood wore a midnight-blue dress much like her mood, dark and sombre, and
when her eyes caught Heather’s briefly, it was just long enough for Heather to
see the utter contempt she felt with their alliance. Releasing her posture
slightly, she leant her head against his chest.

“I haven’t stopped
thinking about earlier. I’d hate it if you got the wrong idea about me; I don’t
make a habit of kissing strangers.”

“Miss Richardson, I
would describe us as being anything but strangers.”

“The kiss ... I’m really
sorry.”

“If it makes you feel
ill at ease, I shall erase it from my memory.”

His words left her
empty, as this wasn’t what she meant and far from what she wanted. They
continued to dance in silence, words now eluding her, and instead she clung
onto his warmth and the sweet essence of his skin. With the orchestra’s
finishing notes and the dancing finale, she felt his grip loosen. She couldn’t
bear it, and lifting her head she gave him an upward glance.

Almost choking on the
words, she said, “I love you, Frankie, I guess I always have. I was just too
blind, or too stupid, to see it.”

His eyes widened,
searching her own, and she felt his hand tighten against her waist. He froze;
Heather saw a hand resting on his shoulder.

“Mr Boswel, have you
taken leave of your senses?”

He turned immediately
at the sound of her voice; it was plain to see that he had fuelled his aunt’s
wrath.

“Miss Thornber takes
refreshments alone, an unforgivable predicament in which she now finds
herself.” The haughty-faced old woman looked down her nose at Heather, adding,
“Miss Richardson, Mr Hammond has been waiting for a formal introduction to you
all evening, and this seems to be just the perfect timing. Walk with me, dear
girl.”

There was no case of
arguing, her words unprecedented and to be obeyed. As Heather’s eyes followed
Mr Boswel in search of Miss Thornber, she was introduced to the most surly and
pompous man imaginable, of portly stature, and the years between them too many
to count. Cringing as he led her to the dance floor, she somehow managed to
smile throughout, acting the perfect lady, yet struggling inside in more ways
than one. As soon as was acceptably possible, she excused herself from Mr
Hammond’s charge. Making haste in her departure from the ballroom, she stood in
the hallway and wondered where Frank could be. She looked around and saw that
the dining room stood empty, the tables made up in readiness. The parlour also
accommodated guests, more ladies than gentlemen, chatting while partaking of
hot beverages and a selection of finger food.

Though Heather was a
distance away and unable to make out what they were discussing. On tiptoe, eyes
searching, she located that formidable lady, Lady Haunchwood, an artistry in
manipulation, all pleasantries and preening. The cooing Miss Thornber was
weaving her web of enchantment, and all Heather could do was watch as Frank
fell under her spell. The ball all of a sudden lost its appeal; having laid her
feelings on the line, they were now only a forgotten dance away. The word
fickle that Florence had used may not have been far from the truth. But was
Frank really to blame? Miss Thornber could easily match or perhaps even surpass
her in looks, and as for connections and status, there was just no contest.

Lady Haunchwood stood
back, revelling in their accord. Dinner was now as unpalatable as Heather could
have ever imagined, and nobody would miss her if she slipped away; even
Florence was far too occupied. But she couldn’t think badly of her, she
deserved a piece of happiness, her and her Mr Cox.
Why do I always seek out
philanderers
?
Impossible relationships? Isn’t there anyone in any
lifetime who could love me and only me?
She couldn’t help her feelings and
how very dearly she loved him.
Whatever
, she thought. The only thing
calling her now was her bed. Dragging her tired and deflated body up the
stairs, she left the ball behind her.

She called Martha
early, being unable to sleep, rushing her somewhat to finish her hair. When she
reached the top of the landing, she heard the familiar tone of Lady Haunchwood
speaking with Mr Clements, the butler. Their voices rose from the vestibule,
leaving her heart empty on overhearing of Frank’s early departure and his
escorting Miss Thornber back to her Hampshire estate.

~•••~

The weeks rolled into months, all quite
uneventful, one day merging into the next. Anna’s presence was becoming quite
oppressive and leaving Heather feeling uneasy, especially during meal times,
when she always stood by the fireplace, her previous cool and distant looks now
deathly stares of hatred. But then Heather remembered the words spoken to her
about ‘mad Anna’, and so presumed it to be an unpleasant trait felt and seen by
everybody in the house. After all, she had witnessed the way in which Anna
looked at Frank previously, so after a while thought nothing more of it. As the
masquerade approached, although uncomfortable Heather felt somewhat relieved,
as the vision she’d lived through could not possibly come to fruition now, as
there was no word of Mr Boswel’s imminent return. Though she missed him dearly,
she knew that due to his absence Anna would be spared the catastrophic events
that Heather had seen take place. So she relaxed back into the nineteenth
century, with its slow way of life. Her fondness for Florence grew as she did
her very best to educate Heather in the niceties of their ways, spending many
an hour walking in the gardens together. After dinner had been served, to avoid
Lady Haunchwood’s sharp tongue Heather would often wander off unnoticed, spending
solitary moments reflecting as she sat by the lake under the evening’s
darkening cloak.

“Dear sister, how can
you possibly sleep?” Florence said as she burst into the room, exuberant as
ever, more so if that were possible, the masquerade now but a day away.

“There is so much to be
done; my aunt has all the servants in the drawing room as we speak, and my Mr
Cox will be attending. I so look forward to dancing with him.”

The house was a hubbub
of excitement that morning, and even Anna was too wrapped up in the festivities
to pass her usual detrimental stares. Unfortunately, Lady Haunchwood had taken
ill, and the doctor had been called for. But for Heather it was the first
evening meal she actually enjoyed, just herself and Florence; how they giggled
between courses, with no reprimand. As evening drew nigh, she left Florence
flapping over her attire for the coming masquerade.

Heather felt somewhat
different this particular night as she sank down in her usual spot on the
water’s edge, as though she was being pulled back to reality, and from where
she belonged. Encompassed by an overwhelming loneliness being away from her mum
and dad, she pictured them sitting together without her, and of course the
grand opening, which she so didn’t want to miss. It had been years coming, and
she just felt it was her time to go home. After all, she had accomplished what
she set out to do, and everything was now as it should be. Although in her
heart she knew she’d always love Frank, for her, he could only ever be a beautiful
dream, and one she’d have to leave well and truly in the past. She felt weary,
her eyelids heavy, and succumbing to her feelings she closed her eyes,
listening to all the weird and wonderful sounds the evening brought with it.

Suddenly, there was the
fresh crack of branches underfoot, and a reassuring hand touched her shoulders.

“Florence?”

“Miss Richardson. I am
afraid not, I hope I do not disappoint.” His deep, distinctive voice was
warming to her ear.

Breathing in the
moment, she never opened her eyes during the meeting of their fingertips,
creating a charge of electricity. Kneeling down, he spun her round. His face
was flushed, his usual control lacking, his voice flustered as he spoke.

“The entirety of my
world is where you are. You know not how deeply you have entrapped me; these
past weeks without you have been a mere existence. Pray, if you do not hold the
same depth of feeling, tell me now and I shall go.”

“Oh, Frankie, I do,
very much so. I only knew love as a word until you came into my life. My
feelings are now so clear, I love you so very much. But what about Miss
Thornber? According to your aunt, you’re as good as married.”

“My aunt’s meddling has
brought me nothing but misery. She may think she has my best interest at heart,
but she forgets it is my heart, my choice, and, Miss Richardson, I believe I
have chosen most wisely. On our last meeting you requested that I lie with you,
which my stupidity led me to decline.”

He paused, smiling, and
scooped her into his arms, lying back with her between the soft grasses. Stars
gathered in a mass of constellations, a showering of hypnotic lights filtering
through the trees as he lay above her, his burning eyes drinking in her beauty,
seeking out a response, her permission. She pulled him close, welcoming the
warmth of his body. His hands wandered slowly up her thigh and he ruched up her
dress. She could feel him, his rhythmical movements quickening, and she opened
up to his advances, losing herself in his kisses. Grasping the earth between
her fingers, her breath quickening, she felt his mouth, his tongue exploring,
enjoying her. With the intertwining of legs and arms, she moaned into his neck
as they made love, and he took her to heights of excitement she’d never known
before. Gently manoeuvring himself, he stood, and their bodies formed a perfect
silhouette without end. Holding her legs around his waist, he waded into the
cold waters, breaking the dark, seductive tranquillity to create ripples,
waltzing in the moonlit reflection. Lost in one another, they collapsed onto
the bank, trembling and laughing. There they lay in each other’s arms until
sunrise the following morning.

As the sun’s first rays
broke through passing clouds, they welcomed the day and their newfound love.
Once again he took her in his arms and carried her to bed, where they fell
asleep embraced in each other’s arms.

Eventually, the
stirring of the servants below woke Frank, and he kissed Heather gently before
slipping away unnoticed.

She was woken as usual
by Florence’s flamboyant entrance, but today Heather’s exuberance far
outweighed hers, although for a different reason.

“Heather, finally the
day is here. I’m going to summon Martha, and spend the whole day in my
bedchamber getting ready,” she said, twirling around the room excitedly. “I
simply cannot choose a dress; you must come and help me. Oh, I do hope my dear
aunt is up and well for the masquerade. Why, Heather, you are simply glowing...”

“Dear Florence, I have
so much to tell you, though I don’t know where to begin.”

A faint tapping at the
door disturbed them. The maid entered, curtsying.

“Yes, Anna?” Florence
enquired.

Her eyes locked onto
Heather’s. “The mam wishes to see y’, miss.”

“Who me?” Heather
gulped, surprised by the request.

“See? I told you my
aunt had a good heart. It surely must have something to do with this evening.
Pray do not leave me in suspense too long,” Florence begged, skipping onto the
landing.

Anna helped Heather get
dressed, during which time the maid never spoke. Then she followed Anna along
the landing, where servants were at every turn, and she smiled on passing Mr
Clements, who was obviously far too preoccupied to notice. Anna stopped at a
door, and stood back awkwardly as Heather stepped inside. The curtains were
drawn, and she found it quite hard to make out Lady Haunchwood. Everything
about the room was dark, from the floorboards to the wooden panelling which
graced each wall; the four-poster bed was heavily draped, and only a small
kerosene lamp stood on what she thought to be some kind of desk.

“Lady Haunchwood, you
wanted to see me?”

“I certainly do,” she
said, her voice, though stern, frailer than usual.

“I hope you are feeling
better.”

“Well, does it look
like it, child? I am certainly not lying here for my health.”

The room fell silent,
and Heather didn’t know where to take the conversation.

“I have had some very
alarming news,” Lady Haunchwood said.

Heather stood
bewildered, having no idea to what she referred.

“Do you wish me to
enlighten you?”

Heather still didn’t
reply.

“I have been informed
of my nephew’s return late yesterday evening.”

Heather blushed, now
more than pleased that the room was dimly lit.

“Miss Richardson, have
you nothing to say for yourself? Have I not taken you in, looked after your
every need, yet you still find it in your heart to disregard my feelings and
hospitality? I even took it upon myself to introduce you to Mr Hammond, a very
eligible gentleman, and quite wealthy in his own right.” Her voice reared up in
anger as she continued. “Your way of repayment is unthinkable, a dirty little
liaison with my nephew, but I can assure you this will not happen again. He
will be marrying Miss Thornber in the spring; I intend to see to it personally.
If you pursue this plight further I shall have no choice but to disinherit both
my niece and nephew.”