My Secret, Chapter 17

Chapter 17:
The tale of Samantha Sutherland

The trip to Colin and Mary's home had been an eventful one so far, and on a dreary night in late October 1908, we had finally arrived in the village of Thwaite.

The first thing I remember was of small, stone cottages with thatched roofs – a far cry from the grand buildings of London that I was accustomed to. I had never ventured to this part of the country before, and found the scenery amazing – very rugged and wild, the moors seeming to flow on forever and ever. My curiosity and amazement at this strange place did little to conceal my nerves, and I'm sure Mary and Colin must have realised due to the strange looks I received whilst we were on the train.

Colin had rented us a set of rooms in the local Public House for our first night in Thwaite, as it was too late in the day to travel the long distance to Misselthwaite Manor.

I couldn't help but wonder what Mother and Father would do when they found out that Mary, Colin, and I had 'disappeared'. I had never done anything so brazenly disobedient in my life (although I would have liked to[at times), and all sorts of thoughts were buzzing through my head. Would they disown me? Would they send out a search party? Would they find me and drag me back to London? I had hoped to explain everything to them in the letter that I had left behind. It had seemed like a logical idea at the time, however, in hindsight, it seemed like I had made a grave error in judgement. I couldn't help but think how they would react when they read about what William had done.

However, I would never feel as though I had done the wrong thing in leaving with Mary. I had only known her for two months, yet she had proved to be the best friend I had ever had.

I had first met Mary's cousin, Colin, almost three years ago, when he had arrived at our house in London, shortly after my thirteenth birthday. He had been a scrawny boy back then, very enthusiastic about science (in particular, Physics) and with a passion for knowledge. He had driven us all crazy with his ability to have the answer for everything, even when I suspected sometimes he was not correct.

At first, Colin had followed my older brother, William, around and seemed to worship the ground he walked on. William had majored in Science at University, and was now studying to become a doctor, like our Father. Mother had explained to me that Colin had grown up without any siblings, which was why he was so interested in spending time with William. Colin never talked much to me, and I suspect he ignored me for the most part because I was a girl.
Being born a girl certainly has it's disadvantages, I thought. While my older brother got the opportunity to study and pursue an academic career, my sister Patrica, and I were confined to the house, being schooled by a governess in how to be a lady. Our futures were confined to becoming someone's wife, and our education was tailored specifically towards attracting and retaining a young man. I recall Pat once saying to me that I had to go and make everything difficult for myself, and there was never a more difficult time in my life than when I had fallen in love with one of William's close friends – a young man named Edward St John.

'Samantha', he had whispered softly to me, one night when we were alone in the garden of my parent's house. It was in the middle of summer, and the night was warm and balmy. He had reached up to my face, and brushed a strand of dark hair away, and had then traced his fingers lightly down the side of my face. I had breathed deeply, and closed my eyes, trying to remain perfectly still – willing him to keep going, yet becoming (almost) afraid and wanting him to stop.

We met frequently after that – whenever we could manage. This was not difficult for him. He was twenty years old – much older than I. I was but fifteen. The balmy night spent in the garden became the first of a series of such meetings. Our light touches progressed to passionate embraces. When we were apart, I could think of nothing else but when we would next meet, and the minutes of the day would drag by like hours. 'My dear girl, why do you look at the clock so often?' my governess would scold, and I would see Pat looking at me quizzically. I dreampt of us being together forever, of running away to Gretna Green and getting married (my Mother would have been shocked to think of her innocent daughter thinking such scandalous thoughts, but then my parents were very naïve back then). However, none of this came to pass, because, on a cold day in early spring, Edward broke my heart.

He had become distant from me, a couple of weeks before the news broke. I had written him numerous letters, asking him when we could next meet again, and had received short, sharp replies such as 'We shall meet when my exams finish, for I am terribly busy', or worse, no reply at all. I had begun to wonder if he was in some kind of trouble, but I was soon to find out that it was worse, far worse than that.

I distinctly remember the morning I had found out. We were at home, entertaining Grandmother's bridge friends. There were around five of them, and we were seated in the sitting room, in front of the roaring fire. The maids had brought in tea and cake and I was idly looking at the clock, waiting for the morning post to come in. I was wondering if today, would bring a letter for me, that perhaps today I would find out what had been going on with Edward.
'Did you hear the news, my dear,' spoke up Mrs Emery, Grandmother's oldest friend (and the biggest gossip, in my opinion) 'that the young Mr St John is to be wed at last?'

'What, you mean William's friend?' my Grandmother had asked, her mouth full of cake.

'Why yes, “Mr Edward St John", I believe he is called,' Mrs Emery had replied 'and to the young heiress he met early in the season. They are to be wed in two week's time.'

I had gasped, and dropped my cake on the floor. My entire face drained of colour. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't!

'My dear Samantha, are you unwell, child?' my Grandmother had asked me, looking over in my direction.

'I, I've dropped my cake...I'm sorry.' I had said shakily, before leaning back in my chair. I closed my eyes briefly, feeling the world as I had known it, tearing apart before my eyes.

I could feel all the old ladies looking as me as I got up and stumbled blindly from the room. I could barely see where I was going for the tears that obstructed my view. Somehow I stumbled up to my room, flung myself down on my bed, and wept.

Later that night I had smashed my small hand held mirror in frustration and pain. It was my fault that he didn't want me, who would want such an ugly pale girl. I remember picking up one of the small jagged pieces, wanting to end it all. What future did I have now that Edward was gone? What future was there without him loving me? I had drawn the small jagged edge over the white of my skin, and then, hating myself, pressed it deeper.

I told all of this to Mary, later, but I did not go into such great detail. I was too ashamed at what had happened. My wrists to this day bear the scars of my suffering. Of course, I am sure that she had seen them, and had been curious, but she had never directly asked, for which I was grateful. Once, when we were laying in bed, she had asked me about Edward and I had told her some – not all, of what had happened. But then, I could trust her with my secret, as she was trusting me to keep hers – that she had a beau back at her home in Yorkshire – a country lad who had helped her tend one of the manor gardens.

It had all sounded so romantic, and so unlike the experiences that I had had with Edward. Her Dickon sounded so gentle and kind, patient and caring. He seemed so far removed from the general arrogance of the young men that I knew.

She had suffered greatly while she has been in London. My own brother, being the cause. William had turned out to be a vile villan, who I was ashamed to call my brother. I remember the night that I had found her – the night of our sixteenth birthday party. She had been gone for a long time, and I had begun to get angry with her. She said she'd only be gone for a few minutes, I thought to myself, and it's been almost an hour! Furiously l had left the room, and walked forcefully up the stairs to our bedroom. I had stopped when I heard the sound of Mary's sobs coming from beyond the bedroom door.

Colin and I had sat by the fireplace at the Inn in Thwaite, solemnly staring into the flickering flames. The remains of a light supper sat on the table nearby, along with an opened bottle of wine. Colin had insisted on ordering it, in order to 'steady our nerves'. Mary had gone to bed an hour previously, claiming she was exhausted. This left Colin and I alone for the first time since I had been to see him, after Mary became unwell.

Colin was leaning back into the large armchair, sitting opposite from me. His face looked weary, and there were dark circles under his eyes. We had barely slept the night before, and of course had spent many hours sitting in the train station at King's cross, waiting for the early morning train to Thwaite. The weariness had caught up with me, also, but I had wanted to speak to Colin alone, after Mary had gone to bed.

Colin however, beat me to it.

'Sam... I'm worried about Mary.'

He had said it so quietly, I had barely heard him. Colin Craven wasn't usually one to speak in whispers.

I glanced towards the door to the bedroom.

'Me too.' I had said softly.

'I know we need to get her back to Misslethwaite, Sam. But I've never seen her like this before. What happened to her...' he trailed off then, raising his hands hopelessly, lost for words.

'We're doing the right thing, Colin – in getting her home, I mean. She needs us right now, and we're here for her. Things will get better.'

'I hope so. I just feel so -'

'Helpless?' I finished.

'and guilty.' he continued. 'I should have seen what he was and ... stopped him from going near her.'

'I feel guilty too, Colin. I didn't go looking for her that night until it was too late. If I had done, perhaps none of this would have happened.'

'She is my only cousin, Sam. She is ... so dear to me.'

'I just feel so angry and upset. Colin, my own brother did this to her! My own brother!'

I could feel my voice rising, and I realised that I must have been speaking rather loudly, as Colin turned quickly and looked towards the door.

'I'm sorry...' I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. 'I ... I just feel so vile to know that he is ... my brother.' I looked away, staring into the glowing embers, wiling myself not to lose control.
I felt Colin's place his hand on my own, rather awkwardly. I supposed he wasn't used to comforting hysterical girls.

'It will all be alright, Sam, you'll see.' he said gently, as he stroked my hand. I looked up at him and noticed his agate grey eyes, which were full of concern.

'I hope so.' I had replied, feeling embarrassed that he had seen me at such a weak moment.
He reached into his pocket and took out a red handkerchief. 'Here, take this. I think you need it more than I do.'

'Thank you', I began 'I -'

But I never got to finish, as a the sound of a loud scream pierced through the still night air.