Roderick

I’m kicking myself as I watch Thedra scramble back inside after playing with the dog. I was so stupid I couldn’t form a complete thought when she spoke to me; I could only mumble like an idiot. But that wasn’t my fault.

My heart wasn’t prepared for what I’d witnessed. To be honest, even after five minutes of standing out here stupefied in the snow, I’m still not over it.

How had I not realized I’d never seen Thedra smile until this  moment? I knew she’d be beautiful— she’s always beautiful. But I was not prepared for how beautiful.

How can so much loveliness be contained within one single person? If she were any more lovely surely she would burst into a thousand twinkling stars, and rain softly down upon the mortals blessed enough to be in her presence.

And her laughter, so bubbling and warm, like the sound of a happy brook or the tinkling of fairy bells, it echoes inside my head, teasing me, haunting me, driving me mad with desire to hear it once more. To have her stand in front of me and laugh unreservedly as she did with that dog— surely I could picture nothing more desirable in all the world.  

I love her, more truly and completely with each passing minute. I need her in my life— I don’t know how much longer we can go on playing these cheap roles of master and servant. Every day without her my heart is as a bare tree in winter, no life in it but what sleeps and hopes for the warmth of spring’s sun. For the warmth of her touch.

I turn at the sound of the front door opening, hopeful to see her again, but it is only my companions preparing to make their leave, carrying with them their kit and their hunting rifles. The dog Thedra was playing with trots faithfully to his master’s side, waiting to follow him on his horse back into town.

My friends come to me one by one to shake my hand and make their farewells.

“You were a gracious host, Major Bentham. I salute you!”

“Thanks for putting us up, old chum. It’s been a sporting time.”

“Let’s plan on it again next year, eh?”

“It won’t be the same. This time next year, Rod will be a married man. He won’t want to spend the holiday with a bunch of rowdy bachelors.”

They laugh and I grin. “You know me so well, gentlemen. What gave my plans away?”

“That ugly mug of yours! You turned into a lovesick mooncalf every time that maid came in.”

“You even threatened to break our teeth over her!”

“And I still will, if I catch any of you sniffing after her again,” I say with a menacing grin.

“We’ll leave her to you, Sir. Just don’t forget to invite us to the wedding!”

We all share a hearty laugh and I shake hands with each of them in turn, more glad to these fellows than they know for the joy their company brought me— even if they did take my attention off of Thedra for a week or so.

Even now I won’t be able to be with her the way I’d like. With the holiday drawing to an end it’s time to consider the work that’s been piling up on my desk. I plan on devoting the rest of the day to it, and I’ll have to make a trip into the big city in the next few days to make sure things are still running smoothly at the office. Meanwhile all the servants are due to arrive tomorrow morning, which means I’ll be seeing even less of her than I’ve grown accustomed to doing of late.

My friends leave and the rest of the day passes while I catch up on paperwork, including the matter of reviewing resumes from new prospective housekeepers. Going through a stack of them tells me a good deal about their education and previous places of employment, but none of them tell me what I really want to know. Which one of these will treat Thedra and the rest of my staff the best? On paper, Evelyn Murdock looked excellent. But resumes reveal very little about the quality of one’s character. Perhaps I should just let Thedra conduct the interviews, and hire the one she feels most suitable…

I arrive in my bedroom late that night with the fire already blazing cheerily in the hearth. I regret missing Thedra; she wasn’t at dinner either. I wish I could think of an excuse to call her in to me now, just so I can see her face before going to sleep. But that won’t do. It’s late and she needs her rest.

Instead I’ll look for her to come build my fire up tomorrow morning. I’ll stop her for a while, and ask her about her favorite books. Perhaps the topic will put her guard down a little, I fantasize as I lay down in my bed. Perhaps she’ll forget herself, and talk to me more freely and animatedly. And then I might amuse her with a witty commentary on some classic philosopher, and she will smile at me, and laugh her pretty laugh.  

Even now, when I close my eyes, I can still hear it ringing faintly in my mind. The loveliest, most precious laughter in all the world.

I wake the next morning to find my plans to trap Thedra in a meaningful discussion on literature thwarted. It’s another servant who’s come to build up the fire. When I ask where she is, they do not know.

I’m annoyed. I want to see her, under any circumstance at all, I no longer care if it’s contrived. I have to see her.

I make my way down to the kitchen where I find Mrs. Agate biting into a freshly sliced wedge of cheese. Realizing she’s been caught she scrambles to hide the evidence by fitting the entire piece inside her mouth.

“I was just sampling it, Sir,” she assures me, words somewhat muffled.

“I’m not worried about it,” I wave my hand impatiently. “Where’s Thedra, is she in her room? I want to see her.”

“She’s not here.”

“What?” I demand sharply.

Mrs. Agate chews an aggravating minute and swallows before answering. “She requested emergency time off and left first thing this morning.”

“Emergency? What emergency?”

“She had a letter from her mother, a very distressing letter, I think. She was quite upset and wanted to leave last night, but I advised her to wait till morning and leave with the carriage the staff arrived in.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” I demand.

“Begging your pardon, Sir, but Thedra’s hardly taken a day off since coming to work here and I thought—”

“I don’t care about the time off! You should have told me Thedra was in trouble straightaway! Where did you say she went? To her mother’s?”

“I believe so.”

“And where’s that?”

“I haven’t the foggiest notion. Sir,” she adds, and wipes a crumb of cheese from the corner of her lip. “Mr. Bentham? Where are you going?” her voice follows me out of the kitchen but I’m hardly conscious of it.

It’s a family matter, I tell myself even as I march upstairs to change into my warmest riding clothes. I’ve no business interfering. But when I think she might be in some kind of trouble, I can’t help myself.

I’m going to see her, whether she likes it or not.

I’m going to bring her back.