Matters of the Heart (11 page)

“Is it alright if I sit in the library for a while sir?” I asked him

“I will join you if I may,” he said, “for I wish to find another novel to read,” So we walked together to the library. It was a small cosy room, the walls lined with books of all shapes and sizes; the wall which held the fireplace was decorated in red. When we walked in lamps were already lit on four tables which were scattered about the room along with comfortable brown leather armchairs which had been used lovingly. I sat in one of them, picking up a volume of poetry which lay on the table by my chair. I glanced through it while Richard perused the shelves silently for a suitable book. As I watched him, looking at his broad dependable shoulders, I then glanced down at the book I held in my hand and read the words, “It seems to me, to myself, that no man was ever before to any woman what you are to me.” The words had been written by Elizabeth Barrett to Robert Browning and how true it was, just like my feeling for Richard Roseby but he must never know, unless there came a time when he declared his love for me. But I was daydreaming again, and I knew in my heart that this would never be. He came and sat in a chair opposite mine and started reading the book which he opened, his hand strong on the cover. We sat in a companionable silence, me reading the love sonnets and every now and then glancing at Richard. Sometimes he would raise his head from the book he was reading and smile at me; and so we sat until I suddenly felt weary and bid him goodnight.

“Sleep well Charlotte,” he uttered, more absorbed in his book than me, but my heart sang for he had called me by my Christian name and I practically danced up the stairs, the sound of his voice uttering my name ringing in my ears and by the time I reached my room the sound of it became a caress. But my joy was to be short lived.

Before going to my own room I looked in on Lina, tapping gently at her door in case she was asleep. I opened the door quietly and peeped into the modest sized room, everything was pink and white with a red carpet covering the floor. Lina sat propped up in bed against the pillows, her golden-coloured wavy hair loose about her shoulders, cascading down her back. She looked so young and vulnerable in a white cotton nightdress stitched with lace at the round, high neckline.

“How I enjoyed our walk this evening Charlotte,” she said quietly. “I’d like the three of us to walk like that every evening after dinner. It was just like being a family.” I realised then how much she must have missed not having a mother.

“We will do it again soon Lina. Now settle down for it is eleven o’clock and tomorrow we will go and collect some wild flowers from the lane.”

“I’d like that.” I helped her arrange her snowy white pillows. By the time I crept from the room the young woman was already asleep.

Entering my room I could see the lamp had been lit, no doubt by Ruby the young maid who I had taken to and she to me. The light fell onto the mirror as I went to remove my string of pearls, and what I saw made me almost scream aloud, but I clapped my hand to my mouth not wishing any sound to escape my lips. Written on the mirror in large letters in rouge from my pot were the words, “Help me.”

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