Sprig of Thyme Read online

  She was about to continue, when there was a loud knock at the front door.

  Leonard went to answer it. Adella heard the conversation at the door; a patient of Leonard's was asking for him.

  When he came back into the room, she held his hat, coat and bag ready.

  “I am sorry I must go; old Mr Richards this time. I'm afraid we must continue tomorrow.”

  Adella nodded. “I think it is best anyway, I'm tired. Besides, your patients must come first.”

  Poor Leonard, he was forever being called upon by his patients. If he got two nights free from interruptions a week he was lucky. It would be an understanding woman who would be a doctors wife. She did wonder whether Leonard would ever meet someone he could marry. What would become of her then? She would be in the way if he did marry.

  The following day, Adella opened the door to Mr Alther's Apothecary shop and walked inside. The musty smell of chemicals filled her nose instantly and she started feel at home to the once alien smell. There were several items to collect and deliver on behalf of her brother; an ointment for Mrs Havers, and cough medicine for Mr Harris.

  She resolved that morning not to hide away any more. She was happy to get out and she went out with her head held high and a spring in her step. The streets of Bath were busy, and she made sure she didn't hide her face from beneath her bonnet.

  “Adella my dear, come in, come in. I thought it was about time we saw you. Mrs Alther was ready to come and see you this evening if you had not turned up!” Mr Alther said.

  “I'm sorry, but I'm here now, and very glad to see you. Is Mrs Alther in?”

  “She's out buying a few items for the stock. She's got it into her head that we are going to run out of castor oil, though we have two barrels out the back. I think she wanted to get out for a short while, which is fine for me. Gives me a chance to get on with the things I want to do.”

  Adella smiled, “Then I will not delay you from your 'things' very long.”

  Mr Alther was behind the counter as usual. For once, the shop was tidy from the normal array and clutter of bottles and equipment lying around.

  “I do not mind dear. You are always a welcome interruption. What can I do for you?”

  “I've come for those items my brother ordered earlier.”

  “Ah yes, I fear Mrs Havers will need her ointment as soon as possible if it's for what I think it's for! I'll get the items for you. You know where to deliver them?”

  “Yes, Leonard gave me the addresses.”

  “Very well,” and he disappeared behind a shelf for a moment, and returned with the medicines, “We'll see you again tomorrow no doubt.”

  “No doubt.” Adella turned and walked to the door.

  “Oh, by the way,” Mr Alther added, “Before you go; you and Dr Preston must call in a few days time for tea. My niece arrives tomorrow and is to stay with us for a year or two. She lives out in the country at the moment and I think my brother wants her to meet a rich man to marry here in Bath. I'm not sure his plan will work though, if I remember her rightly she was an ugly baby.”

  Adella tried to hide her shock, “I'm sure that is not true. But isn't it the case that ugly babies turn out to be the prettiest women?”

  “If that is the case, then you must've been a very ugly baby!”

  Adella gave a small laugh, “You will have to ask Leonard. He will tell you.”

  “No doubt. See you tomorrow then. I would be grateful if you would befriend her, pretty or not,” his face was suddenly serious.

  “It would be an honour. I'll call the day after tomorrow to give her time to settle in. What is her name?”

  “Helen.”

  “A very pretty name.”

  Mr Alther nodded and she stepped backwards out of the door, closing it.

  She turned quickly around, and as she did, she bumped into a gentleman.

  “Oh, I am so sorry. Please, I beg your pardon!” she said.

  The gentleman turned to face her.

  They stared at each other for a few seconds. Both speechless. This was the moment Adella had dreaded for the last few days.

  Against her will she felt her face drain of colour. Her mind was blank. All she could hear was the thud of her heart.

  It was Joel Polwarth.

  She turned around and began to walk briskly in the opposite direction.

  “Adella!” he called .

  She walked faster.

  “Adella!”

  Joel's voice got closer.

  “Please, Adella.”

  He was faster, he ran past and blocked her path. She tried to get away from him, but he blocked her again.

  “Let me pass.” She stopped but would not look at him.

  “Adella, please. Will you not speak to me?” he demanded.

  She looked up at him.

  “You dare call me by my Christian name after what you did!”

  He stepped back, as though stunned by the bitterness in her voice.

  “I'm sorry.”

  “What for? For your lack of propriety a moment ago, or for all you did five years ago? Or for both?” She knew all along that if she ever started, she would find it hard to stop her abuse at him. Her face burned hot with anger. She was desperately trying to contain it. She wanted to lash out at him; to hit him, to make him feel the pain that she had suffered these five years. Now that he was confronting her, she wasn't going to run away. This was the moment she had waited for all these years. All those nights she laid awake thinking about what she would say to him if she ever saw him again.

  His voice softened, “I am sorry, yes for both. Truly I am. I understand your bitterness towards me.”

  “You cannot even begin to know how I feel. You say you are sorry. But why should I believe a liar like you?”

  He shrugged, “You have no reason to believe me.”

  “What are you doing here in Bath?” She lifted her chin and stared at him.

  “My wife is ill.”

  His wife.

  The words stung her, and she had to look away.

  She was supposed to have been his wife.

  She looked back at him, “You think I care about your wife? You think I care about you? I hate you. I don't care that you are here in Bath. I have a better life without you. You are a liar -”

  But she couldn't continue because he interrupted her, “I am a liar, but – I wish I could tell you why. I can't. Not while Cynthia. . .” His voice drifted off and he suddenly looked vulnerable. His face was so familiar to her. Every contour, every part. She had tried to blot it from her memory over the years, but she knew the colour of his eyes and the shape of his mouth. Oh yes, the shape of his mouth she knew intimately. She had tried to forget it, tried to forget what it was like to feel his loving kisses.

  He suddenly drew himself up and took a deep breath in. “I cannot tell you today. But I will. I swear I will.”

  He took hold her hand. But she quickly pulled it out of his grasp.

  “You promise? Just like you promised to marry me?”

  He looked down at his feet. It annoyed her. He couldn't even look her in the eye now.

  She continued, “You promised to marry me. You denied me; you cast me off. I don't believe any promise you make.”

  “You have no reason to I know. But I have not come to Bath to hound you or to spite you – whatever you may think. I've come because my wife is ill.”

  “If you did not come here to hound me, then why are you using my brother as your doctor? Why are you talking to me now?”

  “I had to see you.”

  There was honesty in his face for a moment. But no, she had to remember what he did before.

  “If you think you can fool me again, then you are mistaken. I am not that easily lead girl you once knew. I'm older and wiser and I warn you now: stay away from me. Leave me alone Joel Polwarth. Do not speak to me. Do not look at me. I hate you, you evil depraved, vile, cold-blooded man!”

  She walked around him, and swiftly stepped i
nto the road to get past.

  This time he let her go.

  ***

  Joel made his way back to South Parade, his steps slow. His mind was in turmoil. He had gone out in order to get away from his wife and was only walking for fifteen minutes before his encounter with Adella. He made his way around the narrow side streets for a while, unfamiliar with his surroundings, the streets all looked the same; such a nuisance. It was a complete chance that they met. Part of him knew that it was likely to happen at some point in time, and part of him dreaded it. He had no business talking to her, he should not have done it. Then, following her, demanding she speak to him. It was not right. Yet he could not control himself. Her outburst had left him speechless, but not altogether surprised.

  He arrived back home, pleased to find out that Cynthia was resting in her room. She was in a vile mood today; disconsolate and irritable. He hated it when she was like that. She always mocked him and bated him too.

  He pondered what he should do with himself to fill his morning, and heard the front door bell ring. A short time later, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and the door opened. A familiar dark haired gentleman stood in the doorway.

  “Joel?”

  Joel stepped forward, eager to greet his best friend since boyhood. “Frederick! I thought you would not be here for at least a few more days.”

  “I had the feeling you may need me here sooner; for your sanity if nothing else.”

  Joel nodded, “You are right. Cynthia grows worse in every way.”

  “Is the prognosis the same?” Frederick asked.

  “'Yes. That hasn't changed.”

  “But if I know you and the fact you are here in Bath, I sense that she is not entirely the source of your chagrin? Or the exasperated tone of your voice?”

  Joel sighed, “You mean Adella?”

  “Of course. Who else.”

  “I've seen her twice already. Both times were. . .” he paused trying to find the right words, “they were tense.”

  “Understandable. You are still determined in your decision regarding her?” Frederick asked.

  Joel nodded, “Yes. But let us talk of other things. I'm so very pleased you are here. How was the journey?”

  Frederick rubbed his eyes. “Very easy, the trains ran perfectly to time and there were only a few people travelling. I was quite comfortable. Can't understand how anyone could put up with second or third class though.”

  “You never were one to skimp on comfort.”

  “Just as well I was born into a wealthy family,” Frederick said with a grin.

  ***

  Adella ran straight home after her encounter with Joel, and it was only after a good ten minutes she managed to get control of her feelings that she saw the package in her hands. The errands for Leonard must be done.

  She washed her face, looked in the mirror, and paced about for a bit to allow her red eyes to settle down. Only after half an hour did she have the courage to go out again. She duly left the house, and could think of nothing else as she walked, occasionally dabbing her eyes as she fought back the tears. It was a vain effort to try and forget her encounter with Joel.

  If she had only spent another minute talking to Mr Alther it would not have happened. In a strange way she was glad that the event was over with, but she was angry at herself for handling it so badly. Her words stuttered out. Regretfully, now, she could think of a thousand clever things to say to him. Things that would have made her feel much better; that were suppressed for five years.

  What did he mean that he would tell her, but not now? He was twisting the knife, she was sure. The whole conversation ran through her mind again and again. Each time more painful than the last. She tried to clear her head by thinking of Miss Alther; what she may look like, whether she bore any resemblance to her Uncle, how old she was. She had forgotten to ask, but after a moment's thought, realised that she was probably nineteen or twenty.

  As the evening came and they were seated once more. She told her brother of the day's events, not leaving out her meeting with Joel and his insistence on speaking to her. Leonard was sympathetic, but she felt he did not fully appreciated her restraint, or the turmoil it caused her. But then, he did not know all the facts yet. He had to know, it was time he knew the truth.

  All of the truth.

  “Leonard, when I continue with my story tonight, I wish to conclude. To tell you it all,” she said over dinner, “Regardless of how long it will take.”

  “Of course. It will take longer than the other times?”

  “Yes. You must know why speaking to that man was not pleasant for me.”

  “I think that's for the best. I don't believe I can wait any longer either.”

  Sidmouth, five years before

  “Are you ready to leave?” Joseph asked. He stood in the doorway of the schoolroom.

  “Yes, I think so. Let me check I have everything.” Adella opened her small bag, and searched inside. Water bottle. Food. Handkerchief.

  She looked up and saw Joseph surveying her, one side of his mouth curved into a smile.

  “Yes. I'm ready now,” she said. “The walk will take most of the day, so I have lunch.”

  “And I have my sketch pad,” he said and held up a leather folder.

  “And what are you intending to draw?”

  “Something beautiful I'm sure,” he said looking directly at her.

  Adella looked down embarrassed. Did he mean her?

  The day was clear and bright; perfect for walking. It took half an hour for them to get to Sidmouth sea front, and as they were to take the coastal route, they made their way along the promenade. The path turned into a rough ground, and Adella was glad that she wore sensible walking boots. The incline was steep for much of the way, and they stopped frequently, not only to admire the view, but to draw breath.

  They had already been to Sidmouth a few times since that first trip. Joseph still seemed to adore looking at the sea as much as ever and each trip he would drift into a silent reverence on more than one occasion. Adella longed to ask him what was going through his mind. But something always held her back, it was as though she would be intruding some way. There was a secret part of his mind that she knew he would not allow her access to.

  They were by no means silent on their walk today and spoke of many things; the freedom and the space seemed to liberate them both from the stilted awkwardness of their positions as governess and tutor. That day, they were Adella and Joseph.

  Eventually they arrived at Branscombe beach and they found a quiet grassy spot just a few yards from the pebbles. They seated themselves on the grass and ate lunch.

  “Branscombe is supposed to be a peaceful village, it's similar to the one I grew up in,” Joseph said.

  “Really? I grew up in a town; Aylesbury. Sidmouth is quite small enough for me already. I'm not sure I could endure being in such a rural area all the time.”

  “Oh, it has its advantages, believe me.”

  “Such as?”

  “Country sports for one. My best friend Frederick and I used to spend hours fishing and hunting when we were boys.”

  “Not poaching I hope.”

  “No, not poaching.”

  After they had finished eating, Joseph got out his sketch pad and started to draw Adella.

  After ten minutes or so of quiet sketching, Adella couldn't stay silent any longer.

  “Let me see what you have drawn,” she tried to peer at the pad.

  “No,” he pulled it away so that she could not view it, a smile on his lips. “Not yet.”

  “I only want to see if you are any good at drawing. You could be drawing that cow over there.”

  His grin widened, “You can judge that later when I have finished.”

  “So, you will let me see it then?”

  “Yes, but how can I finish it, if you will not sit still?”

  A few minutes later, he sighed. “It is no good. There is something not right.”

  “Let m
e see and I will tell you.”

  “Are you such a great art critic?”

  “Only when I'm the subject.”

  “Let me take a closer look to see what I have got wrong.” He held her chin in his hands and silently studied her face as he held it, looking in turn at her eyes, her nose, then her mouth.

  She didn't know where to look at first. But her eyes betrayed her soul and she looked back at his face. It was a novelty to be studied so closely, and to have him touch her. He was so close that she could not help from studying his face in return.

  Then, his eyes fell on hers again and he held her gaze long enough for a silent mutual affirmation. Before she knew what was happening he leaned forward and placed his soft lips onto hers. She forgot to breathe, and when she remembered, it was because he pulled away a few moments later.

  “I'm sorry,” he said and looked down at the blanket they were sat on.

  She felt herself blush then put her hand on his arm to reassure him, “No. Don't be sorry. Please. I – I liked it. Very much.”

  It was obviously the opening he needed.

  “You did?” he said looking up.

  “Yes.”

  “I have wanted to do that for such a long time,” he said and gave a long sigh of relief.

  “And I have wanted you to.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded.

  “I was hoping you would say that, but I was not sure. I don't know how to read a woman's thoughts.”

  “I have tried to make my feelings plain, but it has been difficult, given where we both work. Of course, it is highly irregular for a woman to just profess her feelings for a man.”

  “That's true,” he said.

  “I think you should kiss me again,” she looked up at him, her eyes pleading.

  He obeyed her without question; reaching out, he placed his hand behind her neck, and drew her in. This time, he kissed her for longer, and more confidently. Adella was in heaven. His nearness was exhilarating and she eagerly put her hands around him, daring to touch his head and feel his soft hair.

  She tried to forget that it was the first time she had been kissed. Well she wasn't counting the time Simon Taylor kissed her when she was fourteen; it was a dare and he kissed her on the cheek, not the lips.