The Letter
Chapter 1: The letter.
The letter arrived in the first post of the week, captured in a yellow envelope, with the sender's decipher in pride of place, and holding the fold tight, a red wax seal indented with initials ... its appearance giving no indication of its importance. Mr. Umber took the letter on a silver tray to the study, placing it on the mahogany desk, where it sat unopened, anticipating Mr. Graham Darlington's return. These are times when travel was by horse, and distance consuming to achieve. Winter weather added to the inconvenience, and slowed arrival times. Important correspondence posted by lawyers, requiring a favourable reply but when left unattended can prove disappointing.
So it is; the letter sat un-opened. With the master absent from the house and not trouble with expecting such a letter, and nor were those at home; no thought was given to its existence.
Chapter 2: Holly.
Through the small glass panel windows. The winter's
rays without any summers heat; creep across the
bedroom floor, falling short of Holly's bed~her bed, her
room, her prison,unable to rise from it, or ex ape from it,
without help~help freely provided by Mr. Umber and his
wife, both in the graceful years of life; faithful servants,
almost family; for when as a young couple established
their position in the household; growing into their
profession, as so did the children into their adulthood.
Poor restless Holly this bed, and this room have been
her prison, unable to rise from it, or escape from it
without help~help freely provided from old Mr. Umber
and his wife, both in the graceful corner of life; faithful
servants, are are, almost family; as a young couple they
established their place in the house hold; growing into
their profession as so did the children into their
adulthood.
Poor restless Holly under her blankets pondering
her brothers return, never knowing the truth of anything,
experiencing nothing but loneliness in the dark hours of
night, or when the house is empty of others; denied the
ability to witness the sun or the moon as they adventure
across the sky, reading by the light of a candle, love poems from her father's library she reads~reads from
cover to cover, each encouraging rimes to flow un-
restraint one day to a trickle the next, scribed in her
diary, hidden by the leather bind. Confined to her bed
every flower on the wallpaper she has counted, with a
likeness copied by pen to paper, learnt by heart names of
each portrait holder, country landscapes honoured with a
title, each individual character scrutinised.
Poor restless Holly every day of any season, be
night or day, her young heart leaps with joy and
happiness, enjoying days when her brother is free from
business, spending his time with her, when he should be
with a loved one of his own; but he never complains or is
eager to leave her; willingly his strong arms he lifts her
from her bed ... gently into a chair with wheels, and
together fly out through the opening in her prison walls;
free to breath the fresh aromas flowing thought out the
garden, absorbing scents that she can only smell from
her bed when the wind is kind to her; taking narrow the
stone laid path with boarders determined to hold the soil
at bay.
Chapter 3: 'Come everyone', called Mr. Darlington.
Josh and David, are brothers, Josh the older aged 17,
David 15; both sons of Joseph Flint and his late wife
Mary. Like their father, tall strong young men, brought
up on hard work and till the death of their mother feed
good homemade wholesome food.
This morning the boys have the Darlington's coach
attached security to~two of the estate's fineness horses.
The coach has not the status for a King or Queen, for
it does not glitter from gold fittings when the sun seeks
them out; yet is made with a solid frame, with bright
coloured interior, comfortable leather bench seating for
six and coloured curtains, to be drawn over the glass at
night. It's wheels assembled from hard timbers bound
with iron forged from local fires; straps and buckles...
the best money can procure; while the door panels
proudly carry the family crest.
'Come everyone', called Mr. Darlington, eager for
his outing, carrying his long coat - with his wife of
thirty-years - dressed neither for a winter or a spring
adventure; accompanied by his son Graham, a fine figure
in his hunting jacket, joined by his daughter Holly, and
cousins Isobel and Anne - both staying once more at the
request of their mother - each with a hooded robe astraveling attire. Isobel enjoys the company of Holly
and Anne of Graham ... she showers strong feelings of
warmth and affection on him, they on occasions been
seen together holding hands - embracing each other
under the disguise of a friendly game of hid and seek;
she stands no taller than to the base of Graham's chest,
and when standing side by side she is eclipsed by his
shadow
Mrs. Darlington informs all who will listen, she has
kind feelings for Anne, in particular her slight figure, her
soft and gentle voice, the willingness to please Graham.
Cousin or not, a marriage will satisfy all.
Josh with reins in hand, sits ready to take the party
out through the gates and along the path. As the
family arrives David opens the door, placing the little
steps to help the ladies. Mr. Darlington takes the hand
of his wife, followed by Graham helping all three young
ladies into the coach; the last hand is that of Anne.
Mr. and Mrs. Darlington sit together facing forward ...
with the basket of nibbles between them, in easy reach of
all, incase refreshments are required before lunch.
Opposite, under the non-offensive occasional glances
of Mrs. Darlington, nestled and intertwined tightly, are
the four youngest; Graham happily sandwich at close
quarters.
The larger baskets containing lunch proper, cold
drinks for the girls, ale for the men, home made jam andhome baked bread; freshly churned butter, moulded by
hands of local young girls, all lovely packed in
individual hampers, by the wife of Mr. Umber ...
securely on the roof, guarded by their bindings.
Chapter 4: The day brought more than the change of season.
That day summoned the change, instructing springs
songs and warm winds to prevail over winter chills;
exchanging in a glance, soft white snow for new pasture
green. Fresh young creatures, grateful for the
opportunity to venture from their winters home, to
supplement their diet with berries. Wondering sheep
with coats as white as show patrol the path towards the
gate; witnessing the parallel strips being left by the
coach wheels; two bronze lionesses heads fixed upon
the block pillars, one to the left and on to the right of the
path, keep guard; their glazed eyes unaccustomed to the
drawn light, wiping from their noses that of the steam
forced from nostrils of horses endeavours, adding to the
passengers pleasures. From the windows wiped by
gloves, the travellers enjoy scenes of nature as it evolves.
The conversation within the coach covers subjects of
all descriptions, Mr. Darlington, business and house
expensive, his words falling on deaf ears, his wife
reading a novel by ...... turning the pages with a figure
free from her glove. Holly and Isobel specking words
only they, can hear ... glancing from each other, to out
the window and spying on the young lovers~the young
lovers holding hands within their clothing for no one to
view; they stared at each other afar.
The trip now was in its second hour; the passengers have
changed seats - the nibbles basket has had its treasures
forfeited. David has taken the reins. Josh is standing
with his father. The low grey clouds have been
replaced with clear; sun rays have been encouraged to
slice their way into a winters image.
'Time for lunch', shouted Mr.Darlington. David
brought the coach to a stop. Mr. Flint descended to the
ground and spoke to Mr. Darlington. 'Are we not
stopping for lunch?' Molly asks. 'Well will once the
bridge has been crossed', was his reply.
A better day could not be dreamed of; together in
superb company of family and loved ones, progressing
easily into the country-side; gliding through a winters
morning, arriving in a spring day ... filling with
blossoms, butterfly's, birds, hares and deer, their
movement only slowed as David masters the coaches
entry onto the old wooden bridge; manoeuvring between
a fallen trunk and the edge come to subsidence. His
concentration interrupted by his father's words of
encouragement; though many are lost due to the distance
that they have to travel, but he knows by the tone of the
voice, the trust his father's has in is ability.
The bridge just two coaches in length and one wide,
the snow - turned to black ice. David has his hands tothe breast-strap of the lead horse, Graham had excused
himself to his father and attends to the second horse, Mr.
Flint is positioned behind the coach. 'Walk on',
commands Josh with gentle encouragement. And so
forward the horses and coach slowly trip onto the bridge.
The snow stops falling ... what was days before hail,
what was days before heavy rain ... the powerful gale
stops blowing, what was hours before a strong wind,
what was hours before just a breeze ... the birds stop
singing, their happy tweets are forgotten, their plumage
tranquil ... the bells stop ringing, as if the ropes were
cut ... the choir stops rehearsing, returning the words to
the song sheets.
In the church overlooking the bridge the vicar starts
praying .... all eyes and ears descend upon the object
depended on the bridge; an entity made by craftsman,
and being drawn by animal strength for the purpose of
their master .... all elements at moment pause and
witness the sliding from life to death.
Chapter 5: Two Angels descend upon Bundlewood.
Among the bed of snow in accompany of wild
strawberries, red and green; between roots of large elm
trees, small children of no age play, like snakes with no
bite extend themselves twisting; some rising to branches
above eye sight, others stare Anne straight into her small
beautiful blue eyes, now blind to her lover ... forgotten
by her angel~her angel failing to address her need to be
saved from the cold water waiting under the bridge that
now all in the coach were plugging towards. Mr.
Darlington silent in speech, one arm bracing his body the
other his wife~wife and mother of Graham, and Holly;
eyes crying with clear crystal tear drops - one for each
year of her life and one each for those within this
tomb~tomb, a casket built by tradesman's with the finest
timber, leather of young calfs and curtains of coloured
cotton; each body intwined within the next - head to
shoulder, arm in arm, wet warm bodies; no headstone
between them.
In the years to come to celebrate those lost that day a
brass plaque screwed to a replacement beam, names
etched in relief.
Isobel with thoughts of only her mother and her
sister, the mother who always insists she loves her, yet
sends her away; and of her sister Anne, a year youngerthan she, her little sister~ a sister who embraces her
father's confidence ... with ease; able to win the mutual
trust of others, learn private matters and secrets with a
flick of any eye, the sway of a her head, and a why not
tell smile; neither sex is immune from her clutches.
God sends two angels to Bundlewood this day to
save a brother and a sister; descending, the choir returns
to song; the birds circle with feathers fanning; the vicar's
prayers have been answered - parse The Lord. All is as
it was once. Or is it?
Graham and David guild the team of horses slowly
towards, and onto the timbers of the bridge. Josh holds
the team steady. Mr. Flint the evaluator of the rear
wheels. No one breaths out of period, all breath as
one, all as one the breath is held, all as one the breath is
exhaled; seconds are exported into minutes; slowly he on
top and those five in the coach and those two at the front
and he at the back creep forward; the snow parts for the
wheels; the twisted ropes of steel, that are at this time
securely fastened by the maker, take the strain;
tightening their grip as one, not as individuals, holding
the pillars with the horizontal beams as they take the
strain, the planks who's job it is to form level ground for
the coach to passover - one in ten do, the lazy nine don't,
and it's these planks that allow the one on top and the
four in the coach drop to their deaths and he at the rear to
follow them.The screams come loud and fast from the loved ones
inside; Graham cannot attended to their survival, nor can
he stop David from being a Good Samaritan ... the
planks open themselves to the waters below, providing
the coach access down to the cold water~water there
waiting to take them to Gods domain.
A thousand birds full the sky, their eyes join those of
Graham ... scanning, screening, searching every
crevasse, fissure, nock and cranny, nothing is overlook;
no speck near or far neglect, no stone un-turned.
'God, what have you done with them', Graham
screams. Before an answer can be provided Holly
appears, rising from the dead through the cracked ice
twisting skyward like a serpent fluted from a cane
basket.
Chapter 6: Graham Darlington's down fall.
With the older generation reluctantly passed, so did go
the good fortune; with it also the knowledge learnt
through time and experience.
Advantages where taken from one so young~one so
young and new to the business world - one so young
with little understanding and confidence to question
those more worldly; investments made, based on half-
truths, and a lack of understanding; resulting in
combined failures, absorbing all of the families finances,
sucking the life out from under all that rely on those very
funds, those unaware of the consequences of a poor
enterprise entered into.
'You have the deeds to the estate Mr. Darlington', the
question coming from Mr. Hawks. 'I have', and with
that said, the paper is handed across the table,
signatures added to the paper in ink, end the relationship
Graham Darlington has to the family home and those
there still, unaware of these happenings. Now a man
of no wealth or standing, Graham leaves the offices of
Mr. Hawks; broken, ashamed, drenched with
humiliation, fighting a thousands tears, the owner of no
more than eights weeks to vacate his family home~a
home he was born to, the home of many generations
passed.From the office of Mr. Hawks to the stables with the
intention of collecting his horse and return home, should
have only taken few steps, but was delayed by a visit to
the Oak-tree Inn. Keeping himself to himself,
sat a table hear the fire, staying till time was called by
the in keeper. The short walk from there was
completed.
But with all that had go before him the trip home
was not achieved by his own horse and desire to arrive,
alone his failures in business and the affaires of the heart
drowned him in sorrow~sorrow greater than he could
master. To arrive home and share the news the family
home and all its lands, farm workers, all the stock, now
belonged in total to Mr. Hawks.
His thoughts became blurred with memories of his
father, his mother, his loving making to his cousin Anne;
now salvaged from the river's bed, and laid to rest in the
churchyard~churchyard abreast of the hill favouring the
bridge that took the lives of those he'd loved; yet he must
proceed putting his affairs in order, first to attend to
Holly's welfare. But how can he return to her with
this sorrow, to burden her with the knowledge of his
misgivings ... where can he take and provide for her now,
is his dissolute.
'Walk on', the only two words spoken' within the last
hour, two more than said to those met on his journey;The clouds closed in, his horse refuses to move, tears are
blurring his sight; but through the tears come faces~faces
of ancestors, lining the walls, hanging with proud,
displaying strong faces, posture, and grace; great-
grandfathers, grandfathers and the alike; all successful in
their time on earth - trusting their decedents to follow in
their footsteps ... each in their time, to increase value and
status for the Darlington dentistry. Had Graham not
stopped on the bridge, that had replaced the old; stopped
on the very spot~the spot that had opened up and
swallowed all, that winters day. Dismounted he stands
with heavy heart and discuss in himself, his failings, his
inability to maintain his family home, shame like a rash
spreading from head to toe, his desire to scratch only out
voted by his voluntary death.
Chapter 7: The fire reveals a secret.
Poor restless Holly counts the days since Graham has
graced her with his company. Old Mr. Umber has not
the strength to lighten her bed rest by a walk. Mrs.
Umber has not been well, he informs Holly. 'Have
you sent for the doctor?' Words coming from one who
appreciate illness relief. 'No' is his reply.
The doctor is call for, the medicine prescribed.
'Bed rest for you Mrs. Umber', the doctor orders~then
orders a hot drink for all.
A message is sent to the last place known of
Graham's whereabouts.
The next day the doctor is called, Mrs.Umber is not
recovering; death is descending upon her with steps,
each one speeder than the last. The next day the
vicar is summoned, his words only reprieve her an hours
extension. The next caller is the undertaker.
Another message is sent to the last place known of
Graham's whereabouts.A fraction if time compared with the age of a life
passes, only a young child from Dundlewood cottages
comes to mind the needs of Holly; the child brings no
news of Graham, no message, no hint of his movements.
'Please fetch Mr. Umber to my side', Holly asks of the
child. 'He has no strength to attended you', the child
whispers. 'Shall I draw the curtains for you miss?'
'Please, and call for the doctor to attend to Mr. Umber'.
The doctor is call for, no medicine prescribed, will
return Mr. Umber to himself. 'Bed for you Mr.
Umber', the doctor advises. 'Put your affairs in order.
A message is sent to the last place known of
Graham's whereabouts.
The next day the doctor is called again, Mr. Umber
has done as advised and joined his wife in the after
world, without a visit or a word to the last of the
Darlington family member within his reach.
The next day the vicar is summoned, his words lost
to the dead. The next caller is the undertaker.
No message is sent to the last place known of
Graham's whereabouts, requesting his attendance.
****
To be have the sensation of movement stolen from
one so young ... how could God be so cruel?', why was
she selected from so many - what criteria, what
touchstone was used as a reference point. No disease
that affects the brain and spinal cord, could have been
elevated higher than the loss of Holly's control functions;
robbing her of clear vision, pinching her of balance to
hold one straight, providing her with a state of numbness
to her lower limbs, the loss causing such pain and
discomfort, climactic feelings seducing a young female
body, desperate for affection and sexual activity.
So what can start as a lovers tiff of no great
importance in the greater of all things solvable, yet left
unattended without a kind word by either offended party,
in no time allotted to it~is un-mastered. As it is with a
family feud started a hundred years before by ancestors
long past and almost forgotten, families torn apart over a
dispute between a truth to some and lies to others, never
put to rest.
So what starts from a small hot cinder from last
nights fire, propelled to take light of flammable
materials, burn~burn all within it's circle; destroying
countless generations of collections, consuming with its
masterful flames, masterpieces of fine art, gathered from
far off exotic countries ... travel by those on their world
tours; all this lost of treasure and life of poor restless
Holly, caused by her spasmodic gesture towards her
reading candle to bring it closer to her eyes.
How can it be to watch the flames creep towards one
so young and helpless, confined to her bed, with no
brother to lift her with his willing strong arms to safety
~safely out from within her prison, they would fly~fly
through the garden to peace. But no, Holly must
endure the misery of death by fire, like the witches in
times passed, consumed by fire at the stake for their
misadventures. Her screams are not heard for she
utters none, with her last breath she recites the Lords
prayer ... sadly only four words come whispering forth.
'The Lord is my ...', before the flames devourer her frail,
young female body~a body never knowing the touch of a
lover.
Chapter 8: The letter's contents.
Had she lived seconds longer; or been saved from
her death, by a miracle, or taken from her bed to the
room holding the secret of the letter that came, and was
left to be opened on the return of her brother, she would
have seen the heat melt the wax seal holding the folds
fast and revelled the words the lawyer that place upon
the yellow paper. Holly would have learnt the
contents and taken advantage of their meaning and lived
happily ever after; but she did not and did not live
anymore.
The last will and testament, of Richard Goldheart.
.... having no other more fitting to benefit from my estate
and fortune ... having lost my wife to illness many a year
since, and of late my two loving daughters - Isobel and
Anne; pitched from me in a tragic accident; taken so
early in life, so young ... they gave me fulfilment in life
as in death and in spirt and in warmth of heart to help
cousins they loved so much. So it is; Graham and
Holly Darlington are the sole beneficiaries of my life's
savings.
The end.