Radclyffe: Love's Melody Lost

Anna could just make out the garden paths, now narrowed and overrun by the steady encroachment of natural flora untended for years. Here and there stone benches were still visible under the trees, marking the spots which had once provided strollers a place to rest and enjoy the surrounding beauty. To the rear left was a wide flagstone terrace , ringed by a stone balustrade which supported dozens of climbing rose bushes, desperately in need of pruning and cultivation. Beyond that stretched the formal rose gardens, clearly the showpiece of the estate when they had been at their height. Now all she surveyed lay in ruins, a sad reminder of what had been, like a faded photograph of a time long gone. She was amazed to find her throat tighten around sudden tears - she was so moved by the decline of this once proud manor. It was such a waste, when all it needed was care. She shrugged her melancholy aside; she had her own life to worry about resurrecting. She turned back to the room she was hopefully going to inhabit.

"Oh!," Anna exclaimed, observing the room. She was delighted to see a high canopied bed, a lovely antique dresser and matching table. The interior of the house, clearly Helens domain, had been lovingly maintained. The neglected state of the exterior and grounds was clearly not from lack of funds. From what she had seen so far, most of the furnishings appeared to be priceless estate pieces. She felt like she had stepped back in time, and the otherworldliness of her surroundings appealed to her. Her life was in transition; she herself was transforming into a person of her own choosing. It seemed fitting that her new life should begin in a place so different from her past.

"Its all so beautiful!" she exclaimed, unable to hide her excitement.

"Isnt it though?" Helen looked up from where she was busily turning down the covers on the bed. "Ive always loved the view from here. My rooms face that way, too. Ive come to know the look of the sea in every season."

"Have you been here long?"

"Oh, goodness, yes. My family has been employed by the Yardleys for forty years. I wasnt yet twenty when my husband and I came. This was just the summer house then, of course. We spent most of our time at the Philadelphia home. Its only sincewell, Ive been here for the last fourteen years."

"And Mr. Yardley lives here year round as well?"

Helen hesitated once again, then merely responded, "Yes."

Anna was eager for any information that would clarify the strange circumstances of her new job, but was reluctant to pry. The little housekeeper seemed just as reluctant to discuss the issue of Annas employment.

"Whats in here?" Anna called, pointing to a door opposite the large bed.

"Your sitting rooms and bath." Helen pushed the door open, revealing a large room with a stone fireplace. French doors led out to a balcony, and several comfortable chairs and tables formed a sitting area before the hearth. A modern bath adjoined the room.

"Its wonderful!" Anna exclaimed. "I never expected anything like this!"

She tried to temper her enthusiasm, reminding herself she might not be staying. She realized how much she had been counting on this position, and how comfortable she already felt.

"Are your rooms like this?" she asked, trying to disguise her worry. What am I going to do if I have to leave?

"The very same," Helen exclaimed. "Now, Ill leave you to get settled. Youll have to bring your own bags up, though. Im afraid theres no butler! Tea will be at four in the library. Ill come to take you down then."

"I really should wait to unpack until I speak with Mr. Yardley. I might not be staying."

"Posh," Helen replied, giving Anna a quick hug. "Of course youll be staying!"

Anna hoped that Graham Yardley agreed.

Chapter Two

"Just make yourself comfortable in here, dear," Helen said as she showed Anna into a large room filled with floor to ceiling bookcases and fine leather furniture. Helen lit a fire in the huge stone fireplace. The evenings by the sea were cool despite the deceptive warmth of the waning afternoon sun. "Graham will join you soon."

When Helen left to prepare the tea, refusing all help from Anna, Anna examined her surroundings. An oil portrait above the fireplace caught her eye. Anna recognized the bluff below Yardley. A lone figure stood on an outcropping of stone, one arm draped over a bent knee, commanding the vista of sea and sky. Deep black hair, wild and windblown, framed chiseled features and piercing dark eyes. A flowing black great coat was open to expose a ruffled white shirt, tailored trousers, and black boots. A pair of black leather gloves, clasped loosely in one hand, completed the picture of the lord of the manor. It was an image from another time, brooding and untamed. Anna was surprised to see by the date that it was done only fifteen years before. Anna imagined this was Mr. Yardley, and he certainly appeared to be all that the master of such an estate should be. Aristocratic, handsome, and austere. She supposed she would soon discover that for herself.

Anna pulled a small footstool in front of one of the large chairs in the central seating area. She extended her legs toward the warmth and leaned back, watching the crackling fire, wondering if she wouldnt soon be headed back to Boston. She was nearly asleep when a deep voice behind her startled her from her reverie.

"Miss Reid?"

Anna turned, stifling a gasp of surprise as she found herself face to face with the figure in the portrait. Standing before her was one of the most striking women Anna had ever seen. Her portrait, however arresting, had not done her justice. She was quite tall, with thick black hair brushed back from an exquisitely sculpted face. Her eyes, perhaps her most compelling feature, were nearly black, as the artist had depicted, and contrasted sharply with her pale, luminescent complexion. The oils however had not conveyed the intensity of her gaze, nor the glacial severity of her bearing. Anna tried not to flinch at the scar which marred the handsome face, running from just below her hairline across the broad forehead to one elegantly arched brow.

Anna stared, completely at a loss as the woman approached. The dark-haired woman leaned slightly on an ornate walking stick, but despite a slight limp, she was imposing in finely tailored black trousers and an open-collared white silk shirt. A gold ring with some sort of crest adorned the long fingered hand that she held out to Anna.

"I am Graham Yardley," the woman stated simply. It was delivered in a tone that left no doubt as to whom was the master of Yardley Manor.

Anna rose quickly, grasping the outstretched had. She was instantly struck by the delicacy of the fingers that held hers briefly. She cleared her throat, which felt suddenly dry, and answered, "How do you do? Im Anna Reid."

"Sit down, please," Graham said somewhat tersely, turning toward the chair facing Annas. Anna, still a little stunned, was about to sit when she heard Helen at the door.

"Graham! Be careful!" Helen cried.

Even as Helen called a warning, Graham stumbled over the small footstool in her path and lost her balance. She reached out, struggling not to fall. Instinctively, Anna grasped her about the waist, surprised at the willowy strength in Grahams reed-slender form. Anna steadied the taller woman against her, aware of the rapid pounding of Grahams heart.

"Are you all right?" Anna cried in alarm. She could feel her shaking.

Graham pulled away sharply, her dark eyes furious, her body rigid with tension. She steadied herself, her hand nearly white as she clenched her walking stick.

"Helen! How did that footstool get there?" Graham demanded angrily.

"It was my fault. I moved it," Anna said quickly, alarmed more by her employers physical distress than her anger. The woman was still trembling, though she was trying hard to hide it. "Im sorry." She looked from Helen to Graham in confusion.