Free Burnt Norton by Caroline Sandon Page B

stories and flowers.’
    ‘Indeed, sir, you may.’
    ‘Do you like our house?’ he asked, willing her reply to be positive.
    ‘Master Thomas, I like it enough, but the house in the dip with the chickens outside reminds me of home. That one I like a lot.’
    Sir William Keyt strode towards them. ‘Thomas,’ he thundered. ‘What are you doing? Your mother has been waiting for you. Have you forgotten? And Miss Johnson, are you going to neglect your duties before they have begun? Do I have to send you back to your father today?’
    ‘I am sorry, sir,’ she said, humiliated. She was about to apologize again, when she realized the injustice of his anger. ‘I came out to see your garden,’ she started uncertainly. ‘It was well before breakfast and the start of my duties.’ She squared her hips and faced him. ‘I did not ask to be in your employment, Sir William. My father forced me. Apparently an agreement was made. It was not my decision, and I will gladly go home.’
    ‘If you feel that we have coerced you, far be it from me to stop you, but have a care, Miss Johnson: your father might not be so pleased.’
    He turned on his heel.
    ‘Forgive me,’ Thomas said when his father had gone. ‘It was my fault. I should have defended you but I didn’t know what to say. My father always has that effect on me, but you stood up to him. You are quite extraordinary.’
    As Molly headed back towards the house and the day’s duties, she repeated Thomas’s words like an incantation.
    Thomas remained on the stone bench. He picked up the flower and turned it in his hand, remembering the heat from her body as her leg had moved against his own. ‘Help me,’ he sighed, but nothing could ease the confusion in his heart. He slipped the flower into the pocket of his coat. Who knew what course his life would take, but at that moment he was sure that Molly Johnson would play a part in it.

13
    The following morning Dorothy rose early, determined to find her brother. She went to his room but found no sign of him. She was about to leave when Ruth arrived, armed with brushes and the ash pail.
    ‘Morning, miss, just come to do the grate.’ She knelt down to clear the remains of the previous night’s fire, and Dorothy changed her mind and sat in the armchair to wait for Thomas. For the first time she noticed that all of the relics of their childhood had disappeared – the drawings pinned to the wall, the maps showing their imaginary travels, even the colourful pictures done with Miss Byrne. At fifteen, her brother was nearly a man.
    Beside her on the table lay several sheets of paper, the finished translations from the day before. Glancing through them, she noticed underneath a number of poems in varying stages of composition. She was about to put them down when one line caught her eye: ‘Oh such beauty is held within thy face.’
    She sucked in her breath, tears stinging her eyes, and pushed it hurriedly back into the pile. It had to be about Miss Johnson. She just knew it had been written for her.
    Ruth rose and stretched her back. ‘I’ve finished the hearth. If you’re after Master Thomas, he’s in the garden. He’ll be looking for that new lady’s maid, I’ll warrant.’
    ‘I did not ask for your opinion!’ Dorothy got up and charged from the room.
    In the rose garden Molly was picking flowers. As she straightened, wiping her face with her sleeve, she noticed Thomas watching her.
    ‘How long have you been here?’ she asked.
    ‘Long enough,’ he replied with a smile.
    ‘These are for your mother,’ she explained, hastily adding the stems to her basket.
    He laughed, aware of her embarrassment. ‘You are allowed to pick flowers. You’ll not be punished. Mother thinks you are wonderful. In fact, it seems you have captivated the entire household.’
    Neither noticed the face in the study window. On hearing their voices, Sir William had peered outside; seeing his son standing with Molly Johnson filled him with fear