Chapter 3

The night was filled with dreams of mystery and confusion. Not really dreams but intense feelings coming over me in waves with no real pictures in my head behind them. There had been nothing to see. It was blackness, emptiness, and then a quick flash of his face. It was sheer pleasure, followed by intense sadness that I could no longer see him. Then there were be confusion, it was like a longing, then there was fear, horrible fear that I would not see him again. Then he would come again. A flash of his face and it would start again.

When I awoke in the morning, I had convinced myself that I had dreamed the whole encounter. I lie in bed, not wanting to move but eventually pulled myself up into a sitting position. I stretched and yawned getting to my feet. I moved slower than normal that morning. I took much longer than normal getting dressed and braiding my hair. I put on my light pink day dress that fell lightly off my shoulders. It had short slightly puffy sleeves that had beautiful darker pink beads around the sleeves. Just under my breasts was a darker pink satin waist line that stretched around the back and tied into a thin bow. The skirt was straight and airy ending just at the ankle. I parted my hair taking a piece from each side and wrapping it around my head and held it in the back with a beautiful pink dragonfly comb.

Sooner than I liked, I was headed downstairs to eat breakfast. My mother sat at her desk chatting with Charlotte about a few things that she wanted done. I moved past them quickly into the dining room where I sat alone and drank a cup of tea and eat a piece of very dry toast. I finished quickly and retreated to the garden where I planned to spend my day as I normally did, by the fountain, book in hand, enjoying one of the very rare nice weather days. In Maine, autumn came early. It was one of my favorite times a year, the beautiful leaves and the crisp air made the seascape lovely. I suppose it had been destined to be, after all, my middle name was Autumn. I settled myself on the garden bench, waiting for the sounds of my mother leaving the house before I could truly relax.

My mother was very rarely at home. She was always with friends or working with the charity for the hospital in town. We spoke very little, I think this was because she knew we had so little in common. I sometimes felt a bit like an outsider in my own home. I'd never fit in to the life style that should be suited to someone with such a beautiful home and wealthy family. Once in an argument, my mother had said I should have been the daughter of a poor man's wife. She accused that I cared nothing for the life style money could buy, and I knew she'd stopped herself from saying something she'd further regret. I was truly sorry that I wasn't the daughter she'd always hoped for. After that day, I am sad to say, we were never really close again.

Soon, I heard her leave and I wasted no time removing my shoes and walking freely about the grass in my bare feet. It was intensely green and smelled like warm sunshine. I loved it. Mother never approved of me doing such things, but in my opinion, something that relaxing might do her a bit of good. I spent the day involved in the mystery and romance of the novel I was reading and before I knew it, the sun began to sink low into the sky. I quickly grabbed my shoes and headed inside to get ready for dinner and my mothers impending return. I rushed up to the bathroom and washed quickly before returning to by room to dress. As I got ready and fixed my hair, my thoughts wrapped around the strange boy from the night before. My dark blue dinner dress brushed across the floor as I put the finishing touches on the bun in my hair. I deliberately took measured steps down the stairs so as not too look like a clumsy fool and when I reached the bottom rounded the corner to the dining room.

I sat down for dinner with my mother, my father wasn't around normally. He stayed in New York City to attend to business there. He usually came home a few weekends a month for parties or society events. I knew it had nothing to do with business. I had been fairly sure for years that he lived a separate life from my mother for all the obvious reasons. Mother acted like she had no idea.

My mother chatted happily as usual about her day. Gossip she'd heard, or people she'd seen were always a main topic of dinner conversation. I found myself knowing much more about the people around town than I would like. I normally tuned out most of the chatter, not being much of a lover of gossip personally. But, something she said caught my attention very abruptly.

"I'm sorry mother, what was that last" I said casually.

"I said, the hospital charity committee allowed the new doctor's wife to join. She's very sweet, very quiet. With three teenagers though, no doubt why," she laughed quietly.

"Teenagers, really? How many does she have?" I questioned trying not to sound too jumpy. She paused for a moment.

"Three of them. Two girls and boy. Strange story really. Not their children, her and husband I mean. They were his brothers children, apparently they died about ten years ago. All right in order in age," she stopped trying to recall.

"The two girls are sixteen and seventeen and the boy is eighteen."

"Hmm…." I mumbled trying not to sound too interested.

"But of course you know the boy," said my mother dryly.

"What boy?" I shot back, perhaps too quickly this time.

"Tristian," she said with curious raised eyebrows.

"Tristian?" my voice cracked slightly as my food fell off my fork.

"Yes, the first dance you've had since before your birthday party three years ago."

"Oh, yes." I said blushing but trying to shrug it off as though it meant nothing. She paused for a few seconds as if she thought something was fishy, then changed the subject back to idle gossip again and my mind slipped back into it's own thoughts. When I was finished eating, I excused myself and went up to my room. I took a few minutes to change. I brushed my teeth and undid my hair from the tight bun before settling down in a comfy chair by the window with a book.

"Ah, Mr. Darcy, don't be foolish," I sighed out loud. The scent of the air coming in through the open balcony doors was sweet and warm. I sat quietly in the deep chair and breathed in the sweet smell. It had been more warm than was normal for Maine, even in late summer. I planned on enjoying every moment of it. I was deeply involved in my book again when I heard a strangle rustling sound from the grass below, that sounded nothing like the wind to me. I peered out the open window to my side only to see a glimpse of the impossible. He stood outside staring up, just as he'd done the night before. I did a double take, but still my eyes had not played tricks on me.

I shot straight up from my chair dropping my book to the floor with a low thud. I paused for a minute before I sprung forward shutting the doors and closing the slats on the windows. For some reason, I had a reaction to his being there that I didn't expect. I was angry. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my breath came out in unforced huffs. I paced quickly and loudly across the floor. I hoped he could hear me. I hoped he realized what he was doing to me. Emotions filled me like a dam had been broken. I felt angry, confused, afraid, resentful, rageful, and then, I felt contemplation and small amounts of joyful undertones. But then, there was a hidden emotion buried beneath it all, desire. Desire was an emotion I'd never really felt before, but I'd read about such feelings in books. I let out a noisy sigh staring at my closed door.

I must have paced furiously for at least five minutes before my anger caught heavy hold over me causing me to throw open the doors to the outside bursting through. With a loud bang, the doors hit the side of the house. He didn't even flinch, not a millimeter. This made me livid. I wanted him to feel one tenth of the emotion I was feeling. It seemed as though he responded to nothing. I stood there and stared resentfully at him and it must have been ten minutes before I broke my stare or budged from that spot. I wanted to stay angry, I tried. But the longer I stood there staring at him, the less angry I became. Just as the night before, my emotions faded. I realized he had the same look on his face as the night before. It was like he was completely at peace again and nothing I did would shake him from it. Once again my heart melted and again felt anxious and embarrassed. This caused me to retreat from my staring attack. I stared at my feet, I willed my mouth to say what my brain shouted at me. Nothing came out, I slowly retreated to go back inside, I took one more look at him, this time, I let a small smile cross my lips before shutting the doors behind me. I felt I'd made a fool of myself. I wasn't sure where the anger came from, but I now found it foolish. There wasn't much I wouldn't have done to take back that way I had acted. I lie down on my bed hoping I would wake up in the morning and this wouldn't have happened. My heart ached for him but again I told myself, "It's all a dream," as I faded off to sleep.