Past Shadows

Part 5: The Summons.

The summons arrived in an elegant cream envelope edged with black. She knew who sent it. Justin Bracken. He was in mourning. According to her father, Charles Bracken passed away the previous night from a fatal seizure. She broke open the seal and read the short note, scribed in precise, bold, script. Justin Bracken requested her presence at the manor house that afternoon. The formal prose gave no indication of the reason for his summons. She could refuse. Invent another engagement but no, too many in the village knew of her cousins' direct action against uncaring mill owners. If word reached Justin, as it surely would in their close-knit village, he might suspect them, regardless of any tangible evidence. If the shadow of guilt fell on her, it would attract Justin's attention away from them. There was no other solution.

  "Father, Mr Justin Bracken has invited me to tea at the manor today." Lucinda remarked with as much disinterest as she could muster, given the roiling in her stomach.

  "Why would he do that? Does he ask that I accompany you? I need to speak with him about the funeral." Her father sounded hurt he wasn't the recipient of the summons. She would change places with him in heartbeat but would you really, her subconscious insisted.

  "He makes no mention of you, or the funeral father. He doesn't allude to the meeting's purpose at all. I can only assume he wishes to find out about my plans for educating the mill workers children."  Lucinda's gaze darted away from her father's earnest stare, a faint blush stained her pale cheeks but he didn't notice, too preoccupied with his exclusion. He relied on the mill owner for his living and couldn't afford to offend Mr Justin Bracken. Lucinda played on his fear. She must overcome any parental objections to her meeting the new young mill owner without his chaperone.  After all she was a respectable widow and a chaperone wasn't strictly necessary. Her reputation was lily white and her strong beliefs and bluestocking ways carefully hidden from society at large.  Distracted, her father didn't question her explanation, or ask how Justin knew about her teaching aspirations.

  "Perhaps you could ask him when it would be convenient to call on him m'dear."

  "Of course father, I'll leave you now to get ready. He is sending his carriage for me at 3 o'clock."

  The vicar raised his eyebrows at her disclosure but made no further comment and mercifully didn't delay her. "Yes, yes m'dear run along."

  "See you at dinner father," Lucinda smiled and hoped it reached her eyes. Her father returned her smile before he returned to the ecclesiastical tome, which occupied him whilst he rested. Lucinda forced her feet into a measured walk she didn't want her scattered emotions to betray her.

****

  The carriage arrived promptly at three o'clock. Nervous, Lucinda nodded to her housekeeper and walked to the carriage. She felt a pang of disappointment when she saw the covered coach. She half-hoped Justin would pick her up in his phaeton, dismissing her thoughts as fanciful Lucinda accepted the driver's assistance into coach's plush interior. The short journey to the mill hardly warranted this mode of transport but the blisters she acquired walking without stockings this morning, pushed her principles to the back of her mind as she leaned back against the velvet cushioned seat and reluctantly enjoyed the luxury. 

Workers, tools and materials littered the manor house's driveway. Repairs were already underway. Justin wouldn't allow the mill to lose its profitable status for long; it seemed he was like his father in this respect. Since the partially blocked drive made the carriage's journey hazardous Lucinda knocked on the carriage roof and asked the driver to drop her at the foot of the hill. She brushed aside his objections, which disappeared when she alluded to the possible injury to his beloved horses from the debris.  She alighted at the bottom of the hill and suppressed the urge to run in the opposite direction. She prayed, Justin retained a little of the benevolence she sensed in him at their last encounter. If not..., no she wouldn't entertain such pessimistic thoughts. Deep breath Lucy. She strode purposely up the hill towards the master of her fate.

****

  Justin paced the library's polished floor, unwittingly making it gleam even brighter; an unnecessary chore, given one, of his multitudes of staff polished it earlier. At least it prevented him from striding down the hill to the village and dragging his apparently unwilling guest to their pre-arranged appointment.  He fixed his gaze on the hill, which separated the village from the manor, his manor now since his father's untimely demise.  He espied a dot on the horizon, which rapidly transformed into his absent guest. His breath caught as he stared at his guest's deep mahogany hair. Lucinda... His mind supplied the details for the remainder of the picture, not yet discernible to his eyes. The intricacy of his mind's recollection caused his body to harden. He cursed at length, as the source of his discomfort came closer.

Damn his father and his reprehensible behaviour. He shouldn't speak ill of the dead but part of him realised Charles's autocratic rule garnered little respect and no loyalty. Lucinda and her good works meant the villagers and mill workers loved her. He needed diplomacy if he didn't want to reinforce his father's terrible legacy and alienate the mill workers and the village. Greeting her with in such an aroused state would hardly further his cause, given his father's previous treatment of her. He sent the carriage, yet she walked. Angry at such an overt disregard for propriety Justin pulled hard on the bell rope. The butler appeared before he could take another breath."Did you send a carriage for Mrs Osborne?"

  "Yes Mr Justin it returned to the coach house a few minutes ago." Justin raised his heavy eyebrows in inquiry." Mrs Osborne alighted at the foot of the hill. She didn't want to risk the horses' safety. The drive is full of workers..."

  "Yes of course," Justin recalled his edit to start repairs to the mill immediately the fire burnt out. Typical of the Lucy he recalled from his childhood. She still put everyone's welfare ahead of her own comfort, even his horses. "Don't keep her out in the cold she's almost at the door."

  "Of course, Mr Justin, if you will excuse me I will answer the door directly," the butler schooled his features but not before Justin noted the exasperated look on his heavily lined face.

  Justin nodded and returned to the delightful view from his window. Lucinda stood under the front portico brushing back her wayward hair with small, delicately bones fingers reddened from the cold air. Justin's manhood twitched as he recalled the feel of her fingers on his chest when she ran into him. How would those fingers feel if they touched him intimately, his mind questioned. His breeches tightened with his arousal. He glanced down, shaking his head at the unseemliness of his body's response. Now he would have to sit behind the desk to meet her.  Or else risk her flight before he could discover the truth about the fire, which indirectly caused his father's death.