Gillian woke to the sound of squealing voices. It was
definitely Christmas time, and she could tell from the immense racket emanating
from down stairs, that every single one of her many grandchildren knew it too.
She lifted herself upright and swung her immense frame off the bed. Grabbing
onto the antique wooden picture rail to guide herself to the door. She turned
the stiff brass doorknob slowly until she heard the familiar click of the
internal lock, and the heavy door squealed open. By the time she got down
stairs she was breathing heavily. Her daughters rushed to guide her to her
favourite paisley armchair. As she sat down the chair groaned beneath her
weight and she sighed, happy to be off her feet again. Immediately the begging
began,
"Story Granny. Please just one, you promised!"
Looking down at the sea of imploring little faces she smiled
happily.
"Oh…. alright!" She adjusted her cushions and
propped herself comfortably "…which one?"
"A new story Gran, tell us a real story!" She felt
behind her and shifted a cushion into place. As she shifted again the pendant
around her neck caught the morning light and shone, the little stones set deep
into the gold still had warmth, which in the right light, made them look brand
new.
"Ah Gran!" The little ones gasped "Tell us
about that!"
Gillian shook her head. "And what may I ask, is
that?"
"Your family pendant!"
Gillian sighed and looked around, "Alright... but it's
going to be a long one… you won’t be able to hear the whole story you know.”
She looked across at her daughter Dawn and smiled, “…but, I can see your Aunty
Dawn has a plan…she’s going to help me write the story down, so that when you
are all bigger you can read about our marvelous family!” They all smiled up at
her and settled down for a new story. Their very own story.
xxx
"Thorngate echoed with the sounds of birth as Rupert
paced the lower hall. His agitated footsteps made hollow thuds, they perfectly
mimicked the second hand on the large elaborate timepiece, fixed above. He
stopped beneath the large clock, which dominated the entrance hall at the base
of the stairs. Smithson, the family
butler, stood erect and stern, nodding his support every time Rupert glanced at
him. The house was filled again with shock waves of eerie blue light, followed
by the roaring of angry thunder.
Dawn Edgar-Harrison was only 19 years old, it was her first
birth and she was taking it quite badly. The contractions had started in the
early hours of the morning. She was out in the rose arbour happily tending to
the beautiful scented climbing rose, when she doubled over in agony. The
contractions had grown steadily stronger with each passing moment, the labour
pains running up and down her small young body for two days now, and in these
final moments, she looked up and noticed that there was a thunderstorm raging.
She was terrified of thunderstorms. As lightning struck again it was time for
the baby to come, Dawn closed her eyes and muttered a short prayer. The
nursemaid and Mrs. Dodd came around her, encouraging her to push. They
tirelessly bore down with her through many unrelenting contractions until
suddenly with a gush, the small infant was born.
Rupert saw movement on the upper landing and turned to see
who was summoning him. It was Mrs. Dodd the cook and mid-wife. Rupert stood
before Smithson who put his old hands on his Master’s shoulders, and then he
rushed up the stairs, all the while muttering to himself. In the birthing room
there was the sound of sobbing. Dawn lay ashen faced on the bed, Mrs. Dodd stood
by the window ringing her hands. They were all drenched with sweat and Dawn was
weeping quietly. As Rupert walked in he looked toward the nursemaid, who shook
her head solemnly. Dawn looked up at him imploringly and he spat at her.
"Please my love..." She reached out to him, he
slapped her away,
"This is your fault!" He yelled, "Get rid of
it!"
"No!... please Ru..."
"Be silent! I have nothing to say to you. Nurse, dispose of this damned creature as
soon as possible, do you hear me?"
The nursemaid, Rosalyn nodded with her head down turned.
"Yes Sir."
"No... Please Rupert..."
The door was slammed shut leaving Dawn pale and crying in
the arms of Rosalyn and the robust Mrs. Dodd.
"There, there, don’t you worry ma'am" Mrs. Dodd
wiped Dawns face with a damp cloth and calmed her sobbing, "We'll fix
things for you love."
Rosalyn nodded her agreement and patted Dawn's clammy hand.
Years passed slowly and once again the house was filled with
the cries of a second Edgar-Harrison birth. As before, Dawn had been outside
when the first contractions had started but this time the labour was over quite
quickly. By the afternoon the child was born and ready for its father; and on
this occasion when Rupert walked through the door he was met with smiling faces
and a firm nod from Mrs. Dodd.
"Is he healthy?"
Rupert walked to where Dawn was holding her newborn infant
and plucked him out of her grasp. She stretched out her hands with a terrified
look on her pale face,
"Please. Rupert, give him back to me, he needs me and
needs to be fed."
Rupert spun around and stated matter-of-factly,
"I will make sure that he will never need anyone in his
life," He walked towards the window, drew back the curtains and inspected
his child. "Once he is older he will spend his time with me." He
turned abruptly and looked back at them, "I will tutor him myself, his
name... Robert Rupert Edgar-Harrison" He turned to Dawn who nodded bleakly
"…and he will be my heir and future owner of Thorngate" at this point
the child began to holler. "Here!" He placed the screaming infant in
Mrs. Dodd's arms, he turned once to look at Dawn, nodded curtly, and walked out
of the room followed by the solemn Smithson.
Little Roberts’ fifth birthday party was quite an event.
Thorngate's hall was immaculately made out with strings of decor hanging down
from the banisters. The mansion had been scrubbed clean, which was no mean
task: twenty bedrooms, two dining halls, one ballroom, one study, one library
and one entrance hall. They were busy cleaning for at least a week solidly
without rest. It was very important to Rupert that his beloved son have the
best of everything. Rupert’s own string quartet was playing the latest pieces.
Dawn was dressed in the finest of maroon velvet gowns; her
blonde hair was tied up in tresses which spilled down the nape of her neck. She
wore a pendant, hand crafted for a Spanish princess or so she was told, it was
filled with a cluster of unusual sparkling stones. Rupert had tenderly given it
to her as an engagement present, before he had become the harsh man she now
knew. Everyone who was anyone was there, including Mrs. Whittaker and her
husband the General, Widow Cornwall and the Crompton family. It was a night
among the stars. As the last guests arrived Rupert walked up the stairs and
came down carrying Robert on his shoulders; they wore matching suits, grey
jackets with smart satin waistcoats, and the sight of them resulted in a cry of
pleasure from the crowd.
"Well?" Rupert placed his son on the table
"…who will be the first to wish my son a happy birthday?"
Robert looked around sullenly and turned to his father,
"Who are these people Daddy?"
Rupert laughed and pulled Robert towards him in an awkward
manner.
"These... dear Robbie are our friends and family...
they've travelled far to wish you a happy birthday!" He gestured towards
the crowd who instantly broke into applause.
Robert slapped his hands over his ears and pulled a face.
"Make them quiet!" He stamped his foot and the
applause petered off, he looked around at all the heavily adorned hair and
faces of the women and the curious somewhat pompous faces of the men.
"Where are my presents?..." There was silence and Rupert coughed
uncomfortably
"I want my presents!... You said if I came downstairs
I'd get presents!..."
Rupert tried unsuccessfully to quiet Robert but the damage
was done, he made an ineffective apology and carried the screaming child to
Smithson, who carried him up the stairs and to his room.
And so was Robert Rupert Edgar-Harrison's entrance into the
social circle of Thorngate.
The child’s life was full of interesting events; however, he
was never impressed by any of it. He cried when people came over to visit and
hurt any children that came to play. No matter how vile he became or how
obnoxious he was to strangers and family, Rupert clung to the hope that one day
his little son would walk in his footsteps.
Joseph Branaugh made an appearance at Thorngate one day
after unexpectedly arriving home from Paris. His coach was magnificent and he
had a trail of servants behind him. He was responsible for running the largest
bank in the country, and many of the local gentry had listed him as executor of
their estates. He was a fine looking man, the envy of many, slender and elegant
from every angle. He had a head full of tight black curls, which he kept oiled
to perfection. His hands were smooth and fine chiseled, he had the appearance
of being made of the purest marble, pleasing in every way. He had the
appearance of a man years younger than his age, and his eyes had a habit of
flashing mischief. Joseph’s laugh was infectious, he was in all effect: a
gentleman.
He had known Rupert since they were both little boys
giggling in the pews at the local parish. He was a true friend and was a large
part of the lives at Thorngate. Now Rosalyn the housemaid always dreamed that
Joseph Branaugh would one day whisk her off to some foreign land. So, when ever
he was expected, she would spend time doing her hair and would wear her finest
maid’s dress. Mrs. Dodd constantly teased her about it. The truth was that Mr.
Branaugh had never married. He had never found a woman that completed him,
never found a lady who could entertain him and that he himself could entertain.
Any woman he ever met only cared about his bank balance and social standing.
He arrived early in the day and walked right into Rupert's
music room with a loud laugh,
"Rupert old man!" He stood with arms wide open and
a face grinning like the Cheshire cat, "It has been far too long old
friend!"
Rupert rose from his chair and rushed forward to embrace his
friend, and laughing they turned to walk out of the door. Rupert turned to a
startled young music student sitting in the practice chair,
"You, Henry-James, do the Scale of C for the next ten
minutes and then you can go." He walked out leaving the screeching sounds
of C behind him.
The servants prepared a lovely lunch for them, roast beef
cobbler with crispy roasted potatoes. Joseph supplied them with some imported
wine that he had brought back with him.
"So, my dear Rupert, how has life treated you?" He
took a long sip of his wine and then placed his glass on the table giving his
friend his full attention.
"Well... as well as can be expected. The house is
looking good; my wife is looking good..." He chuckled and took a bite of
bread.
"I also want to know about your son, is he not lonely?
Have you and the ‘Mrs’ thought of adding to the family?" He winked.
"I am happy with things the way they are Joseph, I have
no complaints." Rupert straightened his waistcoat. "I am just
thankful that my child is a son."
Joseph frowned a little and cocked his head,
"What do you mean?" He took another sip from his
glass.
"The Widow Cornwall, she and her husband only had one
child and it was a girl, when Widow Cornwall dies her husband’s entire estate
will be in the hands of her daughter’s husband. I'll be damned if my home and
wealth go into the hands of someone who is not related to me. This home will
remain in the Edgar-Harrison family and have the Edgar-Harrison name, thank you
very much." He broke off a piece of bread and held it in his fingers
studying it for a moment.
"So... if you had a daughter, are you saying that you
would not have been a happy man Rupert? Surely you would love your child no
matter if it were a girl or boy?" he placed his glass squarely on the
table and looked at his friend.
"Well luckily I wasn’t faced with that situation. I
just hope that my son grows up to be a gentleman."
The grass was crisp underfoot; the air was still wet, with
the last tendrils of cool darkness ebbing out over the grassland. Esme walked
across the lawn, although she was only twelve years of age she carried herself
as though she had many years behind her. She worked in the house alongside
Rosalyn who had raised her. Rosalyn loved to tell the tale while sitting at
night with a hot cup of broth and the warmth of the fire glowing around her.
She would tell of how she had saved little Esme from the workhouse, and how she
had found her as “a little mewling babe in a field” and taken her in.
Only when Esme turned ten was she allowed working in
Thorngate, the idea had terrified her and she had been beside herself when she
arrived for her first day of work. Thorngate was a huge mansion, so old were
the grey stone walls that age had shaded them a slight green where the shadows
fell, creepers grew along the walls and the constantly damp ground was a haven
for mosses and plants of all types. In front of the huge wooden doorway of the
main entrance was a circular rose garden, the roses were a collection of pinks
and yellows, the fragrance would enter the house every time one of Rupert's
music students or guests walked in.
She sighed as she reached the back door and was let in; her
fingers were numb from the cold so she battled to unclasp them from the wire
milk pail handle.
"It is the most beautiful day Mrs. Dodd!" She
walked past the old cook and smiled a breezy smile. The old dame lashed out and
smacked her up the back of the head.
"Can you believe this child Smithson?" The old
Smithson shook his head in mock disgust but winked at the child behind the
grumpy cook’s back.
"So that's why you were so long!... the breakfast’s
been ready for a while now and all's gone cold, now the Master’ll probably send
it back... 'n just because you decided to enjoy lookin’ at nothin’!"
She apologised and hurried past up the servant’s stairs to
the top landing; she had a lesson with Misses and was already late.
Dawn looked up and smiled as Esme entered and curtseyed
before her.
"Good morning Esme."
"Good morning Misses" Dawn nodded approval and
gestured for her to sit; she straightened out her skirts and sat forward,
pointing to the place in the book where Esme should start reading.
She started slowly, fumbling over the difficult words. Dawn
was very patient with her. The others, including Rupert and Robert questioned
why Dawn took such interest in Esme's education. She replied that she couldn’t
stand to see yet another young mind go to waste, and that if she had anything
to do with it Esme would at least know reading and math basics by the time she
was a young lady. It was clear however, within weeks of starting her studies
that Esme was extremely intelligent, and had already excelled in whatever tasks
were set before her.
By the time she turned seventeen she was already competing
with Robert at Math’s and Spelling… and winning. She was incredibly quiet and
was often on the receiving end of his terrible abuse. Robert was a year or two
younger than she was and quite lanky for his age. He was an unattractive boy,
pale with dark circles under his eyes; his hair was a dusty mousy blonde. His
entire attitude was one of a slithering reptile, often for the sake of his own
entertainment he would destroy household items and then blame the servants.
He knew the hold he had over his father and often used it to
his advantage. This was a problem for Esme because every time she did better
than him, he would find some way to get her into trouble with Rupert or one of
the older housemaids. Often he would trip her or pull her braids, she never
once complained but bore the abuse as tolerably as if it were nothing at all.
Rupert Edgar-Harrison was a very eccentric and well-known
musician, and tutored many pupils in violin and piano. He had a vast collection
of violins; each had an amazing story attached to it. One violin was made from
the bark of a tree, which no longer existed. One belonged to a crazed Russian
tsar and still bore the scratching of his madness, and yet another was a warm
red-brown colour and the legend went that it was painted with the blood of a
small child. He was methodical in his care of these instruments and spent hours
oiling and tuning them to perfection.
When he stepped out one morning to go visiting, Robert
removed one of his father’s favourite violins - one that was presented to a
famous composer by a king in distant history - dropped it on the floor and then
stood on it, breaking it completely in half. He then sat by the entrance hall
awaiting his father's return.
When Rupert returned from his outing he found his beloved
son in a terrible state in the entrance hall.
"Father... steady yourself, I have bad news... your
violin, you know the one with the blue flower detail?... It's..."
Rupert didn't even hear the end of the sentence; he was
rushing to the music room.
"Who?!... did you see who did this?" His breathing
was laboured as he cradled the violin in his arms.
"Yes father... but I'd rather not say..."
Rupert grabbed Robert’s collar,
"Who?!"
"It was Esme Father, I was in here with her and she was
cleaning... even though you told her not to... I mentioned it to her... and in
spite she dropped this one, and stepped onto it."
"How?... I don’t understand…"
"Well when it dropped on the floor it had been hung up
behind the piano Father, perhaps she tried to squeeze out from where she was
standing dusting but, tripped on it..." he flinched as his father stormed
past him towards the hallway.
"Esme!"
She stepped out timidly onto the landing, from the sound of
the master's voice he was angry... very angry and she had no idea why.
"Get here Esme!"
She moved slowly, knowing what awaited her at the base of
the stairs.
"Can't you see how guilty she is father?" Robert
whispered, he was standing directly behind his father; he had a crazed grin on
his face.
"What happened to my violin, child?" Rupert edged
closer to Esme.
He held out the broken instrument and she noticed how his
hands shook. Her heart leapt with
sadness, not at her impending misfortune, but at the destruction of the
beautiful instrument, which lay crushed in her master's trembling hands. She
always hid in the servant’s passages and listened to Rupert play on his beloved
instruments and would rather be hurt herself than see one of these beautifully
carved creations harmed.
"I'm so sorry Master; I don't know what happened to
your viol…" She didn't get to finish her sentence, Rupert pulled her
forward in anger and threw her to the side, and she sprawled unevenly on the
carpet.
"I've told you time and again not to clean in the music
room!" He was pacing up and down; she lifted her eyes slightly and watched
his tailor-made black boots pass by.
"Sir?" She waited for permission to speak.
"What?" The pacing stopped.
"Sir, I would never harm one of your instruments, music
is such a gift master, and I wouldn't want to destroy it!"
"Of course you would!" Robert interjected "I saw
you break it!... do you lie and now dare to go against my word as well?"
She lowered her head; there was no prolonging the
inevitable,
"No."
"Well then, the punishment will be a lashing, Robert
you will see to that..." He ran his fingers through his thinning hair and
shut his eyes for a moment "No lessons for a month... you will not have
lunch today, nor supper!"
He stormed off, leaving Esme with a sinking feeling in her
stomach; she looked up at Robert, whose eyes were gleaming with malice,
"Get yourself outside... but first... get the whip, so
I can start with that lashing girl"
Later in her small room Esme undressed, she winced as she
peeled the layers of her clothes off her body.
Robert had lashed her with such anger that the soft skin on her back had
welted up and areas where the cuts were deep the skin was leaking fluid. The
warm flickering of the oil lamp showed the streaks of red flesh which made
angry diagonal lines across her small frame, the ooze had found its way into
the fabric and she whimpered softly as she removed her under garment. Rosalyn
came into the room, without a word she gently wet a cloth and washed her young
friend’s back. As she tucked Esme into bed she reached into her pinafore and
drew out a floury bun, Esme took it from her and managed a small smile.
For Robert's sixteenth birthday he was given another gala,
complete with chamber orchestra and the finest of foods. Esme had never been
present at one of these evenings, and was secretly very excited about being
chosen as one of the few housemaids to serve at the event. The servants had
been individually trained in the art of food and beverage serving; Smithson had
been in his element bossing all the house ladies around. Each of them was also
fitted for new frocks, their hair was to be done for them, and it was all very
appealing. As they descended the stairs with trays of eats they felt like
princesses.
Robert was extremely hospitable for a change and even had a
small crowd of young women around him listening to his stories and laughing
politely at his teasing. He was absorbed in the ramblings of some young nubile
adolescent when Esme caught his eye; she was leaning over the table rearranging
the bite-sized eats on the trays. He sidled over to her and leaned in so that
she was the only one who heard what he said next,
"You better watch your step Esme... wouldn't want to
ruin my evening now would you?..." He smiled at her coldly, placing his
clammy hand on her shoulder and she flinched, "You shouldn't have done so
well in your studies this year. Esme... it has caused me some trouble with my
father" She winced again.
"Please Master Robert... don't make trouble... this is
your evening and I wouldn't ruin it for you..." She continued moving the
eats as though nothing was the matter.
"Oh, but Esme" He tilted his head in a half crazed
manner "...you will ruin my evening I can just feel it..." He picked
up a cheese wedge and moved past her "...then maybe, finally you will be
out of my house and out of my mind. Forever"
As he sauntered across the room he was gripped in a huge
bear hug by his father, he laughed as he drew back. Over the ring of people
around him, he threw a glance at Esme, his face sobered for an instant and the
intensity of his glare made her blood run cold. Esme retreated to the kitchen
where she helped arrange the dining trays. She was shaking slightly and before
she could stop herself her body was wracked with silent sobs, she gripped the
table edge and stared down at her white knuckles. Rosalyn came into the kitchen
and placed her arm over her shoulders and stood by her till she was through
crying.
"Is it Master Robert, Esme?" She nodded and wiped
away a tear.
"He won’t leave me alone Roslyn, he threatens me with
lashings and..."
"I know Esme... I know." Rosalyn drew Esme to her
in a motherly embrace. After Rosalyn cleaned her friend's face they both made
their way back out into the crowd. As Esme moved past Smithson, he drew her
gently towards him in a fatherly fashion and fiddled with her hair tucking it
into all the right places, he lifted her chin and stared directly into her
eyes,
"Esme."
"Yes Smithson."
"My dear" He sighed “...in life you will cross
obstacles and face big challenges” He looked at her knowingly and winked
"…but you cannot, under any circumstances, let life get you down." He
cleared his throat, stuck out his chin and walked towards the entrance, to help
the people who were still mingling around aimlessly.
The evening went well and it was time for the speeches,
Rupert stood up and addressed the crowd. He spoke of the son whom he loved, his
protégé, and his friend. The speech seemed to last forever and the crowd
politely laughed where there was need to laugh, and clapped where there was
need to clap. For the entirety of the speech Robert’s eyes never once left
Esme, they followed her every move. When she happened to glance his way he
would hold her gaze, she could find no solitude from the invasion of his eyes.
When the evening was drawing to a close, Robert once again
came up beside Esme; he pretended to be arranging his coat on the coat stand,
"I showed you mercy tonight Esme. I was looking forward
to your next lashing..." He turned to her and stared at her, she continued
looking ahead, her heart was racing with fear and her breathing was short.
"You know how much I enjoy... lashing you..." he reached out and
stroked her cheek "You know that don't you Esme?..."
She shrugged off his hand and moved away, quickened her step
and raced to find Rosalyn. He called after her,
"I practically own you Esme... Do not dare deny
me!"
Master Rupert was a strange and complex man, he was only
truly happy when he had his instruments before him. He was obsessed with public
opinion and didn't dare do anything out of the ordinary. He had tried to
instill in his son a love for music but had failed in this; his son's idea of
pleasure was to do nothing of any importance, to lounge around giving orders.
Rupert had a small number of select students who came to Thorngate every week
to be tutored by him so the house was continually filled with the sound of
music; Rupert’s well played notes followed by the screeching scratching sounds
of the violin students. Rupert had no idea of Esme's love of music; she would
often sit hidden in the servant’s passages listening in rapt attention to the
sounds of her master’s music. She would lie awake at night imagining herself
playing as he did, and would fall asleep with a smile on her face.
One day she ventured up to Rupert and curtseyed, waiting for
him to acknowledge her presence.
"What is it Esme?" He looked up, irritated at being
disturbed.
"Master... May I ask you a question?" She kneeled
before him and had her head down turned.
"Yes... What is it?" He placed his music scores on
his lap and looked at her.
"Master, where did you learn to play such beautiful
music?..." She shuffled uncomfortably.
"I was taught by a grand master of the profession, Mr.
Doherty. Why do you wish to know?" He was looking directly at her now and
she could feel his eyes boring into her.
"The music... that you make... is beautiful, I just
want to know..."
"What?... speak up child I haven’t got all day!"
"Well... I wish to learn how to play the..."
"Violin?... Impossible, you could never learn such a
sophisticated instrument, besides you're just a servant" He chuckled
"and a woman at that! No. It is impossible." He lifted his scores and
shuffled them in conclusion.
"…But you could teach me sir..." She was looking
at him directly now and her eyes were pleading.
"The answer is no Esme... and if you take that familiar
tone with me again I’ll have you out of here do you hear me?"
"Yes Master."
Esme stood and walked dejectedly back to her cleaning task,
her cheeks were wet with tears. Unbeknown to Rupert, Dawn had been very good to
Esme; she had taught her everything she knew. Esme had proven to be very clever
and had a vastly retentive memory. She was interested in History, Art and
Music, if she had come from a place of breeding and wealth she would have been
able to study further. She often debated with Dawn on topical issues and won,
even though Dawn had studied on her own for many years.
It was then that Joel McKinnon entered the lives of all at
Thorngate. Joel was a music student of Rupert's he had been referred to Rupert
by his old music teacher who was moving away, he was a musical genius and was
the type who always put people at ease. He came in twice a week for his
tutorage and was a breath of fresh air.
He was in his early twenties, slight but well-built and very
handsome; he had dark hair, sapphire blue eyes and a smile that could brighten
any moment. He lived for his music and wished to become a concert violinist, so
this immediately made him Rupert's new and favourite pupil.
Now Robert was often found walking around the mansion, he
never seemed to find anything in life that brought him joy. As he grew with age
and confidence he let Rupert know that he did not care for the arts, so he
ceased helping his father with his music students. He spent his days lounging
in the shadows, continually harassing poor Rosalyn with rude remarks and
innuendoes, despite their age difference.
He was also somewhat obsessed with Esme and tried to exercise a control
over her, based on fear. He threatened her with abuse every time she would not
do as he commanded. Robert found it a challenge to get along with Joel
McKinnon. His father’s obvious interest in the young man irritated him so much
that he could barely stand to be in his presence.
The first day that Joel McKinnon arrived for his lesson,
Esme was polishing the grand and intricately carved stairway. When she lifted
her gaze she stopped dead still and stared slack-jawed at the new arrival. He was smiling and greeting Mrs.
Edgar-Harrison; he bent forward and kissed Dawn's hand, which made her splutter
and giggle. He glanced up and saw Esme; he stared at her for a second or two
before looking back at Dawn's face. As he walked into the music room he glanced
back to look at her again, but she was hiding behind the corner of the landing
her face was flushed and her heart was racing.
Whenever Esme knew that Joel was coming for a lesson she
would make sure that she was busy elsewhere, she had a still photographic
memory of his face looking up at her from the entrance hallway. The thought of
him made her pulse race, but she could not stand the thought of him meeting her
face to face, what if she disgusted him, she was after all just a well educated
house maid. She convinced herself that he would never want to meet her and that
it was best to avoid him. Weeks passed and one day Joel arrived for an extra
lesson. After it finished, he was just running out of the entrance towards his
waiting buggy when Esme stepped backwards into him. They both went sprawling on
the cobbled floor and as he staggered to his feet he helped the poor girl,
wanting to know if she was in one piece. When he saw who it was he quickly
straightened his coat and fixed his hair.
"I'm awfully sorry... didn't see you at all!... are you
alright?" He was speaking too quickly, "I was running awfully fast...
I've said awfully already... my, my I'd better be still now... are you
alright?" He changed his stance and blew at a strand of hair that had fallen
in front of his eyes.
"I am fine thank you Mr. McKinnon" She could not
even bring herself to look at his face as she thought her knees would buckle.
"You know my name, dear girl, I've only seen you
once... a few months ago, you were at the base of the stairs. I looked for you
again but you were gone..." He was looking at her face, and at the way her
hair complemented her big brown eyes. She quickly lifted her gaze and his heart
skipped a beat, she was incredibly beautiful.
"I try to stay out of the way of the Master's
students." She swallowed hard, it was now or never, "I've listened to you play... your
music, Mr. McKinnon... it touches my heart…" She saw a smile spread across
his face, "…you have a very unique style, sir."
"Why thank you... Esme is it?" They both blushed
and smiled at one another,
"Yes Sir, it is." She quickly curtseyed and moved
past him into the house. As she disappeared, he saw that she had been holding
an egg basket and that the eggs were spilled all over the floor, the basket
also was still lying there, abandoned in her haste.
As summer came to a close Esme and Mr. McKinnon had become
firm friends. They would nod at each other politely when around the others; but
when they had occasion to be alone - when Mr. McKinnon would give her a ride
into the town - they would discuss the music he was learning, the composers,
and the latest performance styles. He
promised to teach her to play violin although they both knew that it would be
near to impossible given their circumstances. Esme told him of how kind Dawn
had been to her in teaching her, she told him of Robert’s cruelty and of
Rupert’s disdain. Their friendship was
an unusual one. It was also at this time
that Deliah became a part of Thorngate. Deliah was a chambermaid, Rupert had
heard that all the other ladies of the day had chambermaids and decided to keep
up with the times. Deliah’s job was to serve Dawn in whatever area she needed.
When Esme met Deliah they were almost the same age, just eighteen. Deliah was
working to support her family, her father had been hurt in a mining accident
and her mother was busy looking after ten children, excluding Deliah, who was
the oldest. From the moment she arrived there was an instant friendly
attraction between Esme and herself, they had the makings of a long lasting
friendship. For Esme’s entire existence she'd always been surrounded by people
who were older than her, and so it was refreshing to be in the company of
someone filled with youthful vigour. Within moments Robert had noticed her, and
for a change Esme did not have to suffer in silence, but could laugh openly
with someone in the same situation.
Rupert’s frustration with Robert was becoming more evident
with every passing day; his lack of interest in all things musical caused many
fights over the ensuing weeks.
Now something very interesting occurred, Mrs. Dodd decided
that it was her god-given task to whip the lazy Robert into shape; she was
constantly involving herself in his daily routine. She had decided that it was up to her to
finally bring in some motherly influence as she could see that Dawn was unable
to involve herself in her son’s life.
Rosalyn found the entire situation absolutely hysterical, and always
found an opportunity to join in the harassment.
The entire house was turned upside down with Robert and Mrs. Dodd
constantly at each other's throats. Rupert was no longer there to fight
Robert's battles, so he had to slowly develop a backbone and learn to defend
himself. A fight with Mrs. Dodd could toughen-up even the strongest soul."
