The Love Rival

I wrote this when I was about fourteen and my teacher made me read it aloud to the class. One of the other girls started crying at the end. I like to hope that means it achieved its purpose. I plan to go back and revise it one day, because I hate it at the minute. Please review.

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Miss Deborah Reed sat before her mirror brushing her waist long, jet-black hair. She gripped the brush with her perfectly manicured hands and her amber eyes followed the movements of the brush in the ornate mirror. She finished brushing her hair and stood up. She walked over to a cupboard and her movements were so graceful she seemed to be floating, rather than walking. She placed the golden brush carefully and lovingly on the third shelf of the cupboard, next to a silver object, and then gently closed the doors. A single, fat tear rolled down her pale, flawless cheek and she again sat before her mirror. She drew a thick, leather-bound book from a drawer in an oak chest beside her bed and also removed a small pot of black ink and a dove-feather quill. She slowly opened the book and dipped her quill in the ink. She began to write, the quill scratching across the paper, and her first word was smudged by a second tear. This was what she wrote.

The Story Of Miss Deborah Reed

Miss Deborah Reed, the daughter of Duke and Duchess Reed, sister of Lady Ophelia Brown and Sir Thomas Reed, is now dead. This book was written by herself as a last living memory of her and tells the story of her death and the reason for it.

The tale begins on a cold, snowy night in late December. I was sewing in the library when a maid came rushing in. My father was at a charity banquet in London and I was left alone in the manor with no one but the servants for company. My sister had recently married Lord Raymond Brown and was no longer living with us. My brother was with my father at the banquet. My mother had died when I was twelve years old. The maid in question was Shelia Derby, and she was coming to inform me that a visitor was at the gates, and was inquiring whether or not to allow him into the house. The name of the visitor was Sir Edward Burn and he was at the house as a wheel had come off his carriage and he was late for the appointment he was heading to. He wished to stay at the manor until his carriage was repaired as it was freezing cold outside for a blizzard had started up.

I told Shelia to bid him welcome and invite him into the library. I asked for her to bring in tea and whatever the gentleman wished to drink. I also ordered her to fetch Mr Scythe to build up the fire. I put away my sewing and waited for her to show in the gentleman.

Sir Edward was a handsome man, with broad shoulders and dark hair and eyes. He was wearing traveller's clothes at the time and looked at first glance around the age of thirty-four. He entered the room and removed his cap. He spoke politely enough to be a gentleman and I greeted him warmly for I longed a more stimulating conversation than was to be had with the servants. Mr Scythe entered the room and built up the fire for us, then he left. I asked Sir Edward to sit with me by the fire and talk. He accepted and we talked together for a long while. He told me that he was a lawyer and that he was on his way to a very important court case and I did not mind, for I had never had a head for a politics and law.

Shelia returned and laid down the pot of tea and a pot of coffee. She curtseyed to us and left. We drank our steaming hot beverages and talked of many things. He told me of the world and I was entranced by his tales of the sugar plantations in America and the poor slaves, the tales of his voyage across the oceans and the magnificent creatures that lived in the far-out waters. I hung on to his every word: he had a knack for narrative and caught my soul with his tales. He seemed pleased to have such a good listener and did not mind at all when I questioned him. We got along perfectly and were both somewhat reluctant when the time came for us to part. I gave him my address and he gave me his also. I promised to write and told him to visit me if he ever again passed through the town. He left and I was slightly dismayed, as he had aroused a feeling inside me, which was rather new to me. Little did I know that it was the first pangs of a love struck heart.

Many weeks passed and I wrote him a letter inquiring if he would care to visit me any time soon. I signed the letter as follows:

'Yours faithfully, your saviour from the snow and avid listener

Miss Deborah Reed'

I eagerly awaited his response and was not disappointed, for on the 22nd of January I received his reply. I kept the letter as a memoir and here it is, copied in full.

19th January

Holsake House

Little Yelsam

Yorkshire

Dear Miss Deborah.

I am writing to inform you that I received your letter and my response to your invitation to visit is as follows.

I shall be passing through your town on the 3rd February and would be delighted to make your acquaintance once more. I enjoyed our talk and hope to speak to you again. Please write and inform me if I am a welcome visitor to your house from the third to the eighth of February.

Respectfully yours, the snow covered gentleman

Sir Edward Burn

I again wrote to him, telling him he was welcome to stay at the house and I would be looking forward to seeing him. He replied to confirm that he had received the letter.

The days leading up to Edward's visit were all spent preparing the bedrooms, buying special foods, cleaning, dusting, sweeping, polishing, washing, scrubbing and tidying. We all anxiously awaited his arrival, but no one awaited him as anxiously as I. I inspected every room thoroughly and checked all the servants uniforms to the last speck of dust on the smallest maids shoes. The third of February came and I sat nervously in the library with my sister Ophelia and my friend Meredith Spalding. We were waiting restlessly for Sir Edward and were making conversation about minor matters (Well, compared to the amazing conversations that I had with Sir Edward all topics now seemed minor to me), when Shelia Derby came rushing into the room.

"Miss." She exclaimed to me. "He has arrived. Sir Edward is here! Shall I show him into the library?" I told her yes and to take Sir Edward's things up to his room. She left and we had been sitting for no more than two minutes when Edward entered. I stood up and greeted him as you would an old friend. I introduced him to Ophelia and Meredith and he shook their hands courteously. He paused by Meredith and they looked into each others eyes momentarily. In that one moment I saw a fire spring into Meredith's hazel eyes that I had never seen before, not in her eyes nor in any other person's eyes.

I invited Edward to sit with us and talk, he accepted and we all sat in the comfortable, green, leather chairs. He began to talk and I asked him of his excursions since last we had met. He told us of his trips to London and Cambridge, he spoke to us about his two day stay in a filthy, industrial town whose name he could not, and "quite frankly" did not want to remember. Meredith listened to him in silence and had a look of rapt awe upon her fair face.

Meredith was extremely beautiful, and had been since we were children; she bore upon her head long, golden tresses and upon her crown rested a slim band of diamonds that sparkled in the fire light like drops of clear water. she had large, glittering, hazel eyes and thick, red lips. When she smiled he smile lit up her eyes and made anyone who saw it want to smile in return. Her body was shapely, her hips and bust were sizable whilst her waist was very narrow. She was the daughter of Mr Spalding, a wealthy judge, and wore beautiful clothes of a splendour which mirrored her wealth. She had always had many suitors interested in her, but had rejected them all. Her plan in life was a simple one and not at all to my taste. She wished to marry, have a family and reside in a large, luxurious home with many servants. She was the ideal, docile daughter, and would make the ideal wife.

A maid entered the room and told us that dinner was ready. We all rose from our chairs and entered the dining room. We dined together and the experience was altogether enjoyable. Meredith hung on to Edward's every word and laughed at all his jokes. Ophelia left us after the meal, apologising and saying that she "Simply must get home and wish my husband and dear little Eliza a goodnight!" She departed and Meredith, Edward and I all went to the parlour to have a cup of coffee. After the coffee I excused myself and headed to bed. I wished Meredith and Edward goodnight and left them alone. In my bed I could hear them talking together and Meredith's high-pitched laugh ringing through the halls. I slept uneasily and awoke at eleven o'clock when a knock sounded at my door. I struggled upright in bed and called the person inside. Edward entered the room and smiled at me.

"Good night." He said to me and I smiled in return.

"Good night." I replied. He kissed my hand and left. I am still unsure which shocked me more, the kiss on my hand or him seeing me in my nightclothes! I returned to my uneasy slumber and was awoken at eight o'clock the next morning by Shelia opening my curtains and telling me that Edward had wished for me to walk with him in the gardens. I dressed quickly in a blue, silk dress and ermine gloves and muffler. I wore my peacock feather hat and a warm shawl to keep the cold morning breeze from my shoulders. I exited the house and found Edward standing, looking out over the gardens. I walked up behind him and he spoke to me. I can still remember every word of that conversation, it has neither faded nor grown stale in my mind. Here is what we spoke of.

"These gardens carry more beauty than I have seen on all my travels." Said he. "How is it that the grass is more fresh and the scents of the flowers are more sweet than any exotic grass or flower I have seen and it is February?"

"The magic and beauty of my mother and grandmother are imbued in these gardens." I replied. "My mother ensured that flowers bloomed here at all times. She planted flowers that would blossom in every season, every month, every weather. Night and day. These gardens were her pride and joy and we take care to keep them as she planted them."

"Walk with me." He said. "Show me." We walked all around the gardens and I showed him everything. We walked through the gardens and then we paused by the lake. There was a bench facing the water and we sat on it together. The bench had been a favourite place of my mother. I remember she would sit and look out onto the water at night. She had planted jasmine beside the bench, as the night-blooming cycle of the flower ensured that there was plenty of sweet perfumes with her in her night time vigils. She said that she loved to watch the stars reflected in the dark water on clear, windless nights. She would sit and she would sing songs that touched my heart. Her favourite song was one my grandmother used to sing to her. When I was younger she would often sing to me before I went to sleep.

I told Edward all of this and he smiled and embraced me as if to comfort me. We sat together and looked out at the rippling surface of the lake, then suddenly he leaned over and kissed me. The shock was immense but the happiness was greater in proportion. He drew away and smiled. I sat shocked and looked over at him, then I smiled and rose from my seat. I smiled as I thought to myself.

"If this is love, then I like it."

I walked into the house and the pleasant feeling inside me was making me giddy with excitement. I felt a tingle up my spine and kept smiling all day.

I spent the next day walking in the gardens with Edward and we were both somewhat reluctant to leave each other at the end of the day. We walked hand in hand amongst the flower beds. The next day we did the same thing and that night we sat on the bench by the lake and looked at the stars reflected in the still water. I was happier than I had ever been before in my life. The next day was the seventh and I had wished to spend the day with Edward but I received a message instructing me that I was needed to travel down to London to see my father and brother at their offices. I broke the news to Edward and travelled the long journey to them. The reason for the trip was of no great importance so I shall not note it down here.

When I returned to my home it was the ninth of February and Edward had left. I wrote to him but received no response. Ophelia visited me frequently but my friend Meredith had apparently accompanied her father on one of his many business trips and was therefore unable to keep me company. Four months passed and I still received no word from Edward. Finally, on the fourteenth of June, I received a letter from Edward telling me in no uncertain terms that he did not wish to ever see me again. This was because he had met a woman on his travels, and had wed her. I burned the letter but in doing so burned it into my memory. It said:

Holsake House

Little Yelsam

Yorkshire

Miss Deborah

I have not responded to your other letters as I have been away for the last four months. I am sorry to say that I wish to sever all contact with you. In my travels I met once again Miss Meredith Spalding. We have grown to know each other and her father approves of me. We are not contentedly wed and I fear that if you write to me or contact me again Meredith may believe that I am being unfaithful to her. She is aware after all of your affection for me. I have married her as she is a beautiful, patient young lady, and has all the skills required to be a good wife. You on the other hand are much more spirited and freethinking, the qualities one looks for in a companion rather than a wife. I apologise if I have caused you any grief.

Thank you.

Sir Edward Burn.

After receiving this letter I tore it to pieces and threw it directly into my fireplace. The grief I am feeling (the grief that Edward so thoughtfully apologised for) is immeasurable. That is the story of why I have killed myself. I have no reason left to live if I know that my only true love does not love me in return.

By

Deborah Reed

Deborah then placed the quill and bottle of ink back into the chest. She placed the book, open at the first page, for the first person who found it. Then she once again slowly opened the cupboard and picked up the silver object on the third shelf. The sharp, silver letter opener glinted in the candlelight. Slowly and carefully, as if she was in a trance, Deborah floated out of her bedroom and down the thickly carpeted, oak stairs. She walked out into her garden. The sun was just setting and the sky was dyed red. She slowly made her way down to the lake. She sat down on her mother’s bench and translucent tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. She gripped the handle of the letter opener and slowly raised her hand. She took a deep breath and moved the letter opener across her slender throat. The first drop of blood soaked into the neck of her white, silk dress and the blood stained letter opener dropped to the ground.