Free A World Apart by Peter McAra Page A

smiled up at him. Her arms locked round his body. She nestled close against him, purring like a happy kitten. Then she lifted her face to him, eyes wide with happiness. He kissed the open, inviting lips. The heart-pounding joy of her closeness swept through his body. He crushed her hard against his chest, kissing her in a frenzy of delight. At last, at last, she was back in his arms. Their kisses lasted an eternity — an eternity of joy. Then the warmth of her compliant body begged him to explore. His nose caught the warm scent of her womanliness. In his fantasy, he abandoned himself body and soul to the visceral urges seething inside him like a boiling cauldron fit to explode.
    â€˜I suppose Sir John has his reasons,’ Hannah said to her foster-daughter when Cook told her that Eliza’s schooling arrangements were at an end. ‘It don’t do to question the gentry’s ways.No good ever comes of it.’ A few days later, Hannah gave her listless daughter a letter handed to her by Mrs Hawkins.
    â€˜It must be from your friend Harry,’ she said. Eliza thanked her and hurried to a private place to read it.
    My dear Eliza,
    I am at Oxford, and I hate it extremely. Father was beastly, and packed me off as soon as he could. I could not find a way to tell you of my fate. But I guess you know it by now. The servants gossip so.
    The other men here seem very smart. They laugh at me because I am a country yokel. Some of the tutors are kind and some are not. I have been punished once because I couldn’t calculate the square root of 289. You’d have known it instantly. The students and the lecturers would think you very clever. I have a servant who blacks my shoes and makes my bed. He is a decent fellow, and comes from the country too.
    I think about us every night. And I remember our heavenly times at the lake. Don’t forget the four children. And our blood promise. Write to me and tell me about Marley, and what you do each day.
    God bless you and keep you till I see you again.
    Harry.
    As soon as she could steal a moment of privacy, Eliza found pen, ink, and paper and replied.
    Dear Harry,
    I was so happy to receive your letter. I miss you more than I can express. I heard about your father sending you to Oxford. Jem told me one day as he drove the wagon past our cottage. I can guess what passed through your father’s mind after Louisa told him about us. I am sure he was shocked.
    Mr Watson has asked me attend the village school to help him teach the young pupils. He says that I will learn a lot by teaching, and he will train me in the art of instruction in lieu of paying me wages. He says it will be very interesting for me. I doubt that. Nursery rhymes grow boring after a thousand repetitions. It is a long way from our days with Mr Harcourt and our afternoons by the lake. I will never, never forget those joyful days.
    I would tell you about Marley if there were anything to tell. You will forget about it soon enough. All I ask is that you do not forget me. Write soon and often.
    Your Eliza
    Not wanting her foster-mother to know about the letter, Eliza decided to waylay Jem the coachman and ask him to make certain it reached Harry. He assured her that he would. A few days before, the viscount had told the servants that he wanted no more contact between the village maid and his children. A certain flush of his face gave them to think he meant it. That look boded ill for anyone who was caught disobeying the new edict. For a while, Jem toyed withthe notion of handing the letter to the viscount, but thought better of it. After a few days indecision he threw it on the fire, glad to be rid of it.
    Harry was first puzzled, then hurt, then cynical about the lack of a letter from Eliza. He could not find the courage to write again. When he came home to attend the ball arranged by the Thurbers to begin his courtship with Agatha, he discreetly enquired after her from Mrs Hawkins, who had always loved the