A Whisper in the Wind

A Whisper in the Wind

by

Sonya C. Dodd

Published by Sonya C. Dodd at Smashwords

Copyright Sonya C. Dodd 2013

Other titles available by Sonya C. Dodd:

Harbour of Dreams (a sequel to A Whisper in the Wind)

Siren Call

Echo of a Siren (a sequel to Siren Call)

Affirmation of the Sirens (a sequel to Echo of a Siren)

Brass Buttons

The Root of all Evil

Dear Mother

With Hindsight

2000 Words: A collection of short stories

No Man is an Island and other stories

Who’s Real?

For further details visit: www.sonyacdodd.com

Chapter 1

She’s dead! The words sounded harsh and final. Henry Gampton crossed the room and stood by the large fireplace, looking down into the flickering flames. He picked up the crystal tumbler from the mantelpiece, draining the contents into his mouth before putting down the empty glass.

His wife, Georgiana sat in a fireside chair, looked up at him and saw him, already deep in thought, his mind obviously not focused on her presence at the moment, she thought jealously. Good riddance, she said to herself. She didn’t know what Henry expected her to say, but she was glad Mariah was gone; at least she wouldn’t have to look at her any more and wonder why her husband had been drawn to her.

The turmoil of the fire reflected Henry’s inner emotions; he was saddened by Mariah’s death, but also angered by his wife’s lack of warmth. Couldn’t she, at least pretend to be sorry? He wondered. She could be so cold at times; he found it difficult to believe she was the same warm, innocent girl he had married.

The heat from the fire became too much and he sat down in the chair opposite his wife. He noticed she turned her eyes away from him, as he glanced at her; could she not bear to even look at him now? How was she able to remain this aloof? He had believed the birth of their daughter, Sophia would rekindle something inside her, make her return to the gentle person he had once known; but she sat now looking into the fire with her jaw tight and her body held rigid.

She knew he was watching her and it made her squirm uncomfortably. She wanted to leave the room and go to her own chamber, where she could relax and not be under his scrutiny. However she knew he would be annoyed and think she was doing it to spite him, so she remained where she was.

There was a quiet knock at the door and then Doctor Eaton entered. He had been the family physician at Longley for many years and he and Henry were good friends too. I’ll be going now, Henry, he said quickly. He was a short man, with slightly greying hair and a robust figure.

Yes, of course, Henry replied, getting up from his chair and shaking him by the hand warmly. I am grateful for everything you’ve done. It means a great deal.

Not at all; good night Georgiana, he added, bowing slightly before leaving the room. Henry accompanied him into the hallway, before returning to the drawing room once the doctor had left.

He went straight to his wife who was still staring into the fire and clasped both arms of her chair. God damn it, Georgiana! How can you sit there with such indifference and coldness? Is there not an ounce of humanity in your cold, frigid body?

Her eyes turned to look at him and he saw there was fire there after all, as she stared at him with hatred. How dare you speak to me like this? How am I expected to respond when I loathed her?

Henry stood up and towered over her; he had been shocked by the way she spat out her words, as if they could physically injure him. What has happened to you? he asked in confusion. What happened to the kind and caring person I married? His voice had softened as he spoke with sincere sadness.

She laughed spitefully. You killed her, Henry! You killed everything that was good in me the moment you brought me here as your wife, and you made me what I am today. If you do not like what you see, then you only have yourself to blame. Looking at him triumphantly, she was glad to see her words stung him, as she noticed him recoil slightly from her. Let the words sink in Henry, she thought.

He slowly shook his head. No; you are wrong Georgiana. This is not what I wanted; you were never like this. I don’t understand where our love has gone. He rubbed his forehead in anguish, feeling genuine sorrow at what had become of their marriage.

Georgiana could feel tears pricking the backs of her eyes, but she refused to allow herself to weaken. Henry was always able to make her feel guilty and believe that she was the only one at fault, but she wouldn’t be beaten, not this time, not today.

Summoning her strength she turned her venom on him. Don’t you dare to talk to me of love! she exclaimed. Where were you when I was giving birth to our daughter? You think I don’t know? You think I didn’t hear the snide remarks and gossip? You made a fool of me Henry, and it was you who destroyed our love. Realising she was breathless, Georgiana paused and looked victoriously at her husband, who seemed less tall in stature suddenly.

What are you saying? You know how much I adore Sophia; it was the happiest day of my life when you presented our daughter to me. Henry’s mind was in turmoil. His family was the most important thing in his life; together, they and his home were his entire world.

But we weren’t enough were we Henry? You had to have her as well; you were with her when I needed you most and I will never forgive you for that. You humiliated me and made your choice and you cannot blame me for making mine; you killed whatever love I had for you the day you chose her and not me.

It was as if she had struck him a physical blow. He stepped back and looked at her with a mixture of sorrow and dismay.

She looked at him with disgust. You thought I didn’t know. Well, save your guilt because you needn’t think I care. In fact, you made things much simpler.

I’m so sorry Georgiana; I had no idea that you knew. Please believe me, I never meant to hurt you. I don’t know what to say. He looked down in shame as if he had the woes of the world on his shoulders. It only happened the once and it was a foolish mistake.

You expect me to believe you? She was our housekeeper for goodness sake Henry! You could have her whenever you wished; tell me, did we pay her extra for the privilege of being your whore? Unable to keep her emotions in, Georgiana covered her mouth with her hand as her chest heaved with the strength of vigour she felt at hearing her own private thoughts, finally spoken aloud.

Henry leant over her with undisguised revulsion. Don’t you dare to speak of her in that way; her body is still warm and you slander her with your words.

Georgiana was enjoying a rare sense of power over him, seeing how her words hurt him. Tell me, where did you do it? Here in this room before the fire, or did you take her to your bed Henry?

Henry turned away from her, no longer able to look into her face. His fists were clenched tightly by his sides as her words rang in his ears. He looked at the vase filled with flowers standing on a table by her chair, and in a moment of rage, he struck out and the vase flew across the floor, smashing and sending the flowers and water spraying across the room. He forced his eyes shut, knowing it had been his wife who he had wanted to lash out at; the vase had been, merely convenient.

Georgiana was shocked; she had never seen Henry raise his hand to anyone or anything, in fact his calm manner was something she found immensely irritating.

I’m sorry, he whispered, the anger having disappeared from him.

She almost felt sorry for him and had to stop herself from reaching out to him. He had aged in recent months, she thought noticing a few grey hairs amongst his black, short-cropped hair. A few lines showed by his eyes and at the corners of his mouth, but he was still handsome.

Returning to his chair he said: I did not lie to you; it only happened once and there is nothing I can say or do to change that. You must believe me when I say I never intended to hurt you. You know, I do love you and Sophia very much Georgiana. Please don’t let’s fight like this.

He looked up hopefully, and thought he caught a glimpse of tenderness in her eyes. She was beautiful, despite the vein of anger which could flare up in her at the slightest provocation. Her hair was fair and pulled back from her pale face. He recalled the first time he had looked into her warm, blue eyes and had felt his heart melt, knowing he wanted her as his wife.

Henry was always genuine and honest; she remembered the way he had looked at her and declared his love for her when they had first met. It had been easy to see he meant everything he said. That was what had drawn her to him: his openness. From him she had learned what it was to love and be loved.

As a small child, she had barely known her parents as her care had passed from nurses, to nannies, and then to governesses. Her brother, Charles had been her only companion, but he had been sent away to school when she was just six years of age.

She could recall standing by an upstairs window, watching as his luggage had been packed onto the carriage which was to take him away from her. Their father had shaken his hand solemnly before he had climbed aboard and disappeared from her view. Her hand had touched the window as she watched the carriage draw away, watching until it had vanished beyond her sight. At once her vast home had been drowned in a stony silence.

That day their carefree childhood had come to an abrupt halt, and even when her brother had returned for holidays, things had never quite been the same between them again.

Georgiana had tried desperately to please her father and looked forward to his infrequent visits to see her with eager anticipation. Yet, these visits always seemed to end in disappointment for them both. When he had died, she had known it was odd that she felt no grief and was unable to shed a single tear at his funeral; she had felt only a cold emptiness.

That was how she felt now sitting across from her husband; she would have liked to have reached out to him, to have felt the touch of his hand in hers but she was cold, he had been right. Perhaps her thaw had been only temporary when they had first known each other and this was how she was supposed to be. She knew she was bitter, but she did not think she could change now; there had been too much pain and too many harsh words spoken.

Standing up to retire for the night she hesitated by Henry’s chair and he looked up at her smiling. I know you love us Henry. Good night. She walked quickly away, having seen the disappointment in his eyes at her abruptness. Surely there must be some small trace of something good in her heart for her to feel this amount of pain, she thought as she went upstairs.

Before going to her own room, Georgiana crept quietly into the nursery where her baby daughter was sleeping peacefully in her crib. By the light of the fire Georgiana gazed down at her perfect, innocent face and was overcome by the emotions she felt sweep over her. How could someone this tiny create something so powerful? She wondered.

Her daughter’s dark hair contrasted with her pale skin and the crisp white sheet beneath her head. She was an English rose and her mother was sure in years to come many broken hearts would lay in her wake.

A pang of guilt pricked her heart as she recalled the painful ordeal of Sophia’s birth. Hour after hour, she had been convinced she was surely dying as the time ticked slowly by. There was no relief as the doctor and midwife came and went from her sight until eventually, in a delirium she had felt herself tearing in two as her baby seemed to be ripped excruciatingly from her, leaving her drained, weak and unable to ever conceive another child.

The first time Sophia had been given to her she had felt revulsion for the small, helpless infant who looked up at her. Already Georgiana felt incomplete because she would not be capable of giving her husband an heir, and she could only blame this child for that.

Day after day her daughter was brought to her arms until eventually, she began to feel her heart melt and she began to look forward to holding her. Knowing how much her daughter needed her helped to heal the wounds, which had been so raw and exposed.

But her anger had not disappeared; instead she knew it had been transferred to her husband. It was his fault after all, that she had been through such a traumatic nightmare and it was easy to lay the cause of her pain and regret, upon his shoulders.

As her marriage began to crumble around her, and her knowledge of Henry’s being unfaithful fuelled her already growing feelings of anger towards him, Georgiana clung onto the love for her baby, who seemed to love her unrequitedly.

She would accept no blame herself for the breakdown in their marriage relations although, as she recovered her strength it was she who, night after night locked her door against her husband.

In the beginning she had loved him, of that she was positive. She recollected after her father’s death, her mother became a regular companion to her and began to take Georgiana out with her to visit friends. Taking great care, her daughter learnt how to make the best of herself, Lady Elizabeth had used her daughter as a vehicle back into society from which she had drawn away from during the required period of mourning following her husband’s untimely death. Hence, Georgiana had become useful to her mother and found herself engaged in a new life, where she learnt to enjoy all the benefits her privileged life could bring to a young lady.

Also, she learnt how she could use her beauty to manipulate potential suitors; Henry Gampton had fitted the bill perfectly, being the heir to a large Yorkshire estate as well as townhouses in London and Harrogate. Her mother could not have been happier than when Henry made his proposal and Georgiana had been enchanted by a man, who was genuinely interested in her and did not seem to think of her only as a possession.

He had been like a breath of fresh air in her tightly closeted upbringing, which had been devoid of all affection. He had helped to build her confidence in herself and had taught her how to express her feelings, which had always been suppressed as being inconsequential.

Their marriage had taken place quickly. Her mother was keen to see her daughter married well and Georgiana longed to escape from beneath the shadow of her mother and embrace her new life as a wife; there was no need to delay the union.

Henry had been a gentle and caring husband; it was clear he was well-liked by everyone who knew him. She had loved the stream of parties and balls they enjoyed whilst in town, but Henry always seemed unsettled there, eager to return to his beloved Longley.

Initially Georgiana had loved playing the role of mistress in such an impressive house and estate, but it was a role which quickly bored her. She found the staff tiresome; Henry was a modern-thinking employer and she thought he was too lax with his treatment of their army of staff and her decisions regarding them always appeared to be over-ridden as unnecessarily harsh. Besides, her role seemed superfluous as it became clear the house ran perfectly adequately without any assistance from her.

As much as Henry longed to be in his home, Georgiana longed for the society she found in their existence in town, and she soon came to dread Henry’s decision for them to return to the countryside. He was clearly with her only in body and not in mind, as they attended functions together and Longley was always there in the background, calling him back and stifling her sense of fun and freedom, with a life dominated by routine and duty.

Sighing quietly, Georgiana looked back down at her sleeping daughter and smiled. At least here was some evidence that there had once been something good in their relationship. The sound of the child in the adjacent crib, beginning to whimper in contrast, made Georgiana shudder and she left the room quickly to fetch Nanny Baker.

Henry sat alone staring into the dying embers of the fire. He was remembering the scene earlier when he had seen Mariah for the last time. The shocking change in her appearance had frightened him; she had looked wasted and ravaged by an illness which had struck her suddenly, just months after the birth of her own daughter Angelina.

Many years before, when Mariah’s father had served his own father, he had unexpectedly saved the young Henry’s life when the boy had fallen into the path of a galloping horse. Feeling that the opportunity to repay an old debt was upon him, Henry had paid for his own physician to attend Mariah.

He knew he had been foolish in the past when he had turned to her, realising his marriage to Georgiana had perhaps been made rashly, as he watched her turning into her mother day by day. In the arms of Mariah he had rediscovered he was capable of a warm, loving relationship but he had known at once he could not allow the indiscretion to continue, particularly when Georgiana announced her pregnancy to him.

He had been afraid Mariah would want to leave his service but she had remained loyal in her devotion to him and his family, and helping to make her end as painless and dignified as possible, gave him some comfort for the way he felt he had let her down.