Dare To Love (3 page)

Mr. Archwald shook his head, “Never mind, and
gossip you know — well, it does not matter, let us proceed, shall
we?” He laughed, and then changed the subject. “I have known your
Great-Aunt for nearly thirty years and not once had she mentioned
that she was related to an Earl.”

“By marriage, Mr. Archwald, and they were not
on speaking terms,” Gwendolyn quickly brought to the forefront.
“When my father was younger, my Grandmother and Great-Aunt, her
sister, were very close. But when my Grandfather matched my father
into an advantageous marriage, his state of affairs changed, thus,
drastically separating both influential families. My Great-Aunt
vowed never to speak to him again and thus never did when I was
brought to her door.” She explained, thinking too much about this
‘Hollinger Commerce Company’…who was supervising it?

“Oh, I see…well, from my extensive research
into your family, Mrs.— Lady Hollinger, it was detected that with
his sudden demise, the Earl’s last will and testament did not
reflect his marriage, therefore, not even his descendants. So when
your father passed on, all land and resources transferred to the
nearest relative, which was your Great-Aunt. Now it makes perfect
sense that she did not covet the wealth and that the estate was
bequeathed to you.”

“How much is left?”

“Your father owed on many notes dear, most of
his wealth was liquidated a few winters back. One hundred pounds a
year is what you can claim. But there is property that has remained
secure. The land and manor are substantial. Why, if you liquidate
the property, you would never have to worry about your finances
again.”

“Gisleham Manor?”

“Yes—” he spat out, trying to clear his
gullet, shuffling through further paperwork on his desk. “The
property bordering…”

“Wilderbrand Castle,” Gwendolyn finished for
him, thinking about the Hollinger’s once again.

“Yes,” Mr. Archwald agreed lying down the
document he had in his hands.

Gwendolyn closed her eyes. She had never
cared about her father’s wealth or preceding capital; she had been
living happily all these years without it, but the house…oh God,
her childhood home, this was a blessing in disguise. It was her
place of birth, where she grew up, so many seasons, winters, and
summers spent there, fishing, rowing, swimming and ice-skating on
its shared lake.

So many memories dashed in and out of her
head, she could hardly keep up. It was all so long ago…in a
different lifetime…in a distant memory. “The manor…is mine? May I
go there now?”

CHAPTER TWO

Amongst the most memorable estates in
Berkshire, Gisleham Manor was a forgotten marvel. Once an imposing
chateau in its halcyon days, its gates were rusted and the sod and
foliage, overgrown.

With a luxurious water fountain and
monumental urn as its focal point, Gisleham Manor had a long low
edifice with twelve bays under a high copper roof. Finial-capped
cupolas surmounted two square alcove towers that contained rooms.
The garden, derived from formal French influence once encompassed a
canal, flat parterres, thickets and elaborate hedges.

Opening up the door, the reception hall was
engrossed in painted murals; intricate woods with gold-rimmed
etchings clouding the interior. Built-in glass display cabinets
welcomed Gwendolyn in, while parquet flooring in distinctive shades
graced the base to guide her along. Leading out of the scope, was
the threshold to the Earl’s sizeable library, an area where Lord
Drummond held most of his business meetings, late night
negotiations and one colossal order.

Gwendolyn stood frozen at the entrance of the
great library. Everything was still there, nothing had been
moved—just a thin sheath of dust appeared on all the exposed
furniture. Green buckskin couches; empire chairs, marble sculptures
and powdered silk drapes were even in ideal condition. A fireplace
she remembered sitting by when she was younger was still inviting;
the rug she used to play on with her cat was still off center.
Walking in farther, she stopped cold. Heavy elaborate moldings
suspended oil paintings of each member of her departed family.
Gwendolyn slowly moved towards them and stood underneath the
life-sized portraits.

There they were…a touch away…a tangible sight
of loved ones who once adorned her day-to-day life were now
twisting her heart in inevitable grief. Her father, Lord Kenneth
Drummond, the Earl of Suffolkshire, with all his authority and
power displayed by way of his overconfident pose; her mother, the
beautiful Mary Drummond, with her rich reddish brown hair done up
around her grey-green eyes; and Nathaniel, her older brother, so
kind and gentle and then finally…one of her. Strange to see herself
so young, cheerful, and unbeknownst of the anguish this young
maiden was about to endure. So many years of loneliness the girl
would have to overcome, so much pain and longing.

After staring at herself for a few minutes
more she finally realized the portrait was not straight and
appeared to have been moved. A visible thick base of dust
surrounded the rectangle frame, while a triangle of clean surface
could be noted from one of its corners. Gwendolyn wondered at it
for a moment longer, and then leaned over to reposition her picture
back to its original state.

Gwendolyn then ambled over to her father’s
work area and lightly glided her fingertips across the once
polished surface but gathered up a lump of disappointment in dust
clumps instead. Wiping off her fingers on her dress, she was in awe
that the doublewide desk was still filled with maps, nautical
instruments, building plans and models of ships; designs her father
had been working on and planned to return to if ill fortune had not
been introduced. She then wondered…was everything still there? Her
clothes, her dolls, her parents’ wardrobe, her brother’s bow and
arrow collection…had no one step foot in the manor since the
tragedy? She was the last of the living Drummond’s, she figured; no
one really cared or bothered. Walking away from the maritime
instruments, she then focused on her father’s leather chair.

Standing at the edge of it, Gwendolyn
imagined her father sitting there with a superior look on his face.
The Earl of Suffolkshire always had to have his way when he was
alive. Closing her eyes, Gwendolyn recalled what last happened in
the great library. She could still hear her father’s thunderous
voice echoing throughout the enormous span. One month after her
sixteenth birthday, she received the devastating news…

~~~~~

“What!” I yelled, on the verge of panic. “Why
didn’t anyone tell me?” I ran out into the hallway, my mother
caught my shoulders—she said I had to go back inside; I was
betrothed to one of the Hollinger brothers since the day I was
born, she said simply. The only reason why they did not tell me,
she added, was because they wanted me to get acquainted with the
boys without restriction. Now that I am older, I understand the
value of their decision, but at the time, I was devastated and
thought my life had ended. In less than a month, barely enough time
to have a dress made, I was to be wed…

The following day I was back in the library,
a multifaceted burden weighed heavily upon my shoulders. I had a
choice to make, a choice I never got to deliberate. Four separate
options, with four different men, all good-looking in their own
diverse way were awaiting my verdict.

I paraded in front of the four of them; they
were all standing in line, Jordan Hollinger at the front, Tommy at
the rear. I walked over to Jordan first and stared into his eyes,
only his gaze had lowered and raked up my figure from toe to tip.
He was the eldest, probably prepared for this very day and was
pretentious because of it. I knew I was supposed to pick him; he
was the inheritor of every trophy offered to womankind. All my
friends considered Jordan Hollinger the ultimate catch, but his
significance made me feel awkward, as a result, made my choice
easy. Pitch-black hair encasing light green eyes, comely features,
and he knew it, leering at me with a pompous, lewd grin on his
face. I hated him simply because he thought everyone loved him, but
I did not like him and I would never choose him.

I next stepped over to Philip, a virtual
stranger to me, no eye contact when I passed him by. Slightly
shorter than Jordan, he was a humorless spectacle-wearing bookworm
with a noticeable frown in the middle of his forehead. We had a lot
in common, he and I, we both loved to read and I always felt I
could ask him for help on complex school subjects, but never did.
He was so unapproachable, just too grave, when I found it difficult
to nevertheless make him smile. He won’t do, not him, ever.

Standing to the rear of him was Andrew, light
brown hair, dingy stare…A mean-spirited chap who oftentimes beat up
on the rest of his brothers and sometimes, even mine! Enough said,
not an option, no, not him.

Then, in the back of all three stood my best
friend; a boy who could always give me the giggles, take on a good
dare, challenge me in every which way until now. My choice was
painless…there was no alternative. No one could replace Tommy
Hollinger in my mind… with his arms, chest and long legs swimming
in his enormous white cambric shirt and navy breeches. Too shy and
not anticipating my deliberation, he was biting his fingernails and
looking panic-stricken.

“Your Grace?” I asked quietly, cutting
through the tension in the room.

“Yes Gwendolyn?”

“I may have my pick of any of your sons, is
that correct?”

The Duke of Norwin turned to eye my father
and raised an eyebrow. “Yes Gwendolyn, you may have your choice of
any of my sons.”

By that smug grin on his face he thought I
was going to choose his precious prized titled heir!

“Then I pick Tommy.”

I remember the gasps coming from everyone,
even one from Tommy. I stood idle now, and stared into Tommy’s
frozen gape. His eyes round like the moon, staring into mine…

~~~~~

“You look at little green Gwendolyn, do you
need a basin?”

Gwendolyn could not believe her eyes and
maybe it was partly her fault as well. Staying in the country far
too long, wanting to close those doors to her past forever and
neglecting her daughter’s rightful future. She should have asked
questions years ago, should have faced this past long before, but
deep down, did not want to. The pain it usually surfaced was simply
too much to bear. Her Great-Aunt had been her solace from hurting
and sheltered her for far too many years; it was easier to suppose
everyone perished in some unexplained hoax rather than grasp the
distressing truth.

Gwendolyn trotted around Phyllis and lifted
up her skirts to hi-tail it out of there. She scuttled down the
hallway and passed through the large French doors that lead out to
the courtyard. My mother’s cherished part of the house, she
remembered, eyeing the vaulted ceilings of the staircase spiraling
down towards the square; and from the stone laced court, looking up
into the arcades, Gwendolyn viewed the many arched porticos that
surrounded the terrace.

Gwendolyn slowed down and remembered finding
her mother alone crying one night and instantly brought to mind the
conversation she had with her just a few days before the wedding
voyage…

~~~~~

“Mother? Why are you crying?” I asked,
running over to her and sitting at her feet.

She wrapped her hands around my face and
said, “Do you know how lucky you are Gwendolyn?”

I remember looking up at her with tears in my
own eyes; she was the most beautiful woman in the world to me.
Auburn hair with the most incredible grey-green eyes I have ever
seen. “I don’t feel lucky.”

“I envy you,” she said, wiping away her own
tears and covering her mouth with a hand.

“Envy me—but why?” I asked, continuing to
blubber. “I don’t wish to be married.”

“Neither did I at your age, but you’ll see
things differently in a few winters.”

“You were under obligation as well?”

She closed her eyes and shut them tight, “My
father had an arrangement with the 1st Earl of Suffolkshire. I
begged and pleaded with my father, but it was no use.”

A deep sense of realism entered my heart.
“But…but don’t you love father?”

“I like your father very much, Gwendolyn… he
has been so good to me, but my heart will always belong to
another.”

“Another? Another man?”

Smiling through tears, she revealed, “His
father was a business associate of mine and when his family came by
to visit, he would end up talking to me. Elegant and oh so
charming, he took my very breath away; but we were both betrothed
and dreadfully aware of our social restrictions. Until one evening,
while both our parents were dancing in the ballroom, he took me
aside and kissed me. I will never forget that kiss of his,
Gwendolyn; there were so many ardors in his embrace, I—I hungered
for him after dark. Even on my wedding day, I loved a married
man.”

My mouth flew open wide and I grabbed at her
waist, hugging her near. “Oh mother, I am so sorry.”

“I am glad I told you darling, it is a
suffering that I have had to bear these many, many winters. That’s
why I envy you,” she voiced, caressing the sides of my face,
running her fingers through my hair. “You made the perfect choice,
Gwendolyn. Tommy is an affectionate boy and he will make a
wonderful husband. I have seen the two of you together; he is so
focused on you. You are so fortunate to already be friends with
him; it will help when you two are not intimate. Now, close your
mouth dear, stop blushing, he is not a complete stranger like your
father was to me on our wedding night. I am sure your first time
with your husband will be a memorable one.”