Liebestraum No. 3 in A-Flat Major

Lady Wintersley had barely finished her morning tea when a servant brought a card from a gentleman by the name of Clifton.

Sunlight poured through the arched windows of the entrance hall, glinting off the ornate chandelier overhead and scattering prisms along the fine oak panelling that adorned the walls. Marble statues, installed in their niches like silent sentinels, contrasted with the vitality exuded by family portraits suspended above them.

Upon opening the heavy oak door, Lady Wintersley encountered a gentleman whose features bore a striking resemblance to those of Captain Jack Clifton, yet they were tempered by an air of worldly charm. His inky hair was combed with meticulous care, and his attire bespoke a discerning eye for fashion, as well as what one might assume to be a commitment to an extensive grooming regimen.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” The greeting was offered with a charming smile. “I am Thomas Clifton, the elder brother of Captain Jack Clifton. Pray forgive my unannounced visit. Having recently arrived in town and learned of your foremost reputation, I felt compelled to make my presence known to the leading family in the village forthwith. It is my sincere hope that this impromptu introductory call has not caused you any inconvenience.”

The flicker of insincerity in his smile eluded Lady Wintersley, being told she was more important than the Fitzroy’s had quite turned her head. She welcomed him with her customary grace and dignity, extending an invitation to enter the manor.

The morning light bathed the elegant drawing room in a gentle golden hue. Sweeping floor-to-ceiling windows framed the verdant gardens outside, where blooms of lavender and rose swayed in the soft breeze. Seats upholstered in delicate damask fabric, a grand piano sitting regally in one corner, and a fireplace carved from exquisite Italian marble all contributed to the air of almost ostentatious grandeur.

“Mr Clifton,” said she, her voice tinged with a subtle note of admonition while her smile remained polite. “It is most singular to receive a gentleman without prior arrangement.” She paused before adding, “May I presume Captain Clifton is in good health?”

A look of distress fell over Thomas. “I regret to inform you, Your Grace, that my intention was to reconnect with him after many years apart; alas, it appears my overtures were not well received. He desired no association with me.”

Throughout the course of their conversation, Lady Wintersley found herself increasingly captivated by Mr Clifton. The unexpected revelations regarding his estrangement from the captain prompted a flurry of questions in her mind that she felt compelled to investigate further.

“Oh dear, Mr Clifton, that is quite unexpected,” remarked she, her eyes betraying a hint of the caution she harboured. “Pray join us for luncheon; your journey must have been most taxing.” Despite her reservations, Lady Wintersley could not deny her burgeoning sympathy. Throughout the course of this unorthodox luncheon, Mr Clifton’s gaze often lingered upon Helena’s delicate form. His charming smile and eloquent discourse proved more than sufficient to captivate the unsuspecting Miss Wintersley.

“Mr Clifton,” ventured Helena, her fingers nervously entwined in the fabric of her gown. “Might I be so bold as to inquire why your brother has chosen to sever ties with you?”

Thomas adopted the epitome of wounded resignation and appeared to be gazing into the past. “Ah, dear Miss Wintersley,” sighed he, his voice suffused with melancholy. “It is a sorrowful narrative replete with misapprehensions and heartache. You see, my brother Jack and I were as different as night from day. Whereas he flourished under the tutelage of our strict parents, I floundered.”

He shook his head, a rueful smile touching his lips. “It was a relief to us all when Jack elected to forsake our family for the military at such a young age. I harboured hopes that in his absence, my own place within our household might finally be secured. Yet fate is oft a fickle mistress; scarcely had he departed than a calamitous blaze claimed the lives of our dear parents, leaving me in solitude.

For years I sought Jack out, harbouring the foolish belief that our shared sorrow might serve to mend the rift between us.”

Silence enveloped the room whilst Helena absorbed his tale, her heart pulsating with empathy.

Heaving a profound sigh, Thomas cast a glance towards the lace curtain dancing in the breeze. “Yet upon finding him at long last, my dear brother spurned any notion of reconciliation.”

Lady Wintersley’s countenance betrayed her shock. “Mr Clifton, your brother came back lauded as a war hero. His frigid reception strikes one as unduly hostile, yet I am convinced he has his reasons.”

“Undoubtedly, Your Grace. Ought such past heroics govern his current attitude?”

“His sacrifices in service to our nation must not be disregarded. The fortitude and altruism he exhibited require the utmost respect.”

A shadow passed over Thomas’ features. “Yet I urge you to tread with care, Your Grace. It is perilous indeed to excuse a man’s present conduct solely on the strength of his past repute.”

Lady Wintersley regarded Thomas intently. A disconcerting incongruity emerged when she compared the man before her with the stern image of his brother she held in her mind. She found herself ruminating on what grievous misdeed could have led Captain Clifton to ostracise such an apparently amiable and benevolent gentleman.

“You do not appear as one who has suffered such wrongs. Both your comportment and attire speak of sophistication and success.”

“Indeed, Your Grace, would that our outward appearances mirror the turmoil within.” Thomas offered a light shrug and a bitter smile. “Alas, they oft but spin the narrative we desire others to accept as truth.”

Helena pierced the oppressive silence with a voice quivering with concern. “Mother, might we not extend to Mr Clifton the hospitality of our home? It strikes me as most unjust that he should endure such hardships.”

Helena’s cheeks suffused with a deep crimson, suddenly cognisant of the impropriety her suggestion might convey. Thomas, however, managed to alleviate the tension with his captivating smile. “Dear Miss Wintersley, your natural compassion is indeed heartwarming; nevertheless, I must decline. The conjecture such an arrangement would provoke… It is not my desire to sully your esteemed reputation.”

Lady Wintersley, initially taken aback by the boldness of her daughter, found herself moved by the courteous declination. “Mr Clifton,” said she, contemplating the stark contrast between the Clifton siblings, “it perplexes me that your brother would treat his own kin thus. Has he always been so… intractable?”

Thomas exhaled a weary sigh, set his teacup down with trembling hands, and clasped them together. “I must confess that my brother can be… challenging. His temper has been known to flare violently at times, Your Grace. I sometimes fear he harbours ghosts from his past which have driven him to seek refuge in such an insular locale.”

Lady Wintersley and Helena bristled at the slight against their hometown. Perceiving their displeasure, Thomas hastened to amend his statement. “I beg your pardon if my remarks were untoward, my ladies. It was not my intention to disparage your charming town; I merely intended to convey that it is somewhat removed from the hustle of cities such as London or Paris. Pray forgive me.”

Following Thomas’ apology, which was graciously accepted, they partook of a delightful luncheon. The conversation flowed effortlessly, further endearing him to the Wintersley ladies. Upon his departure to return to the inn, however, an unsettling stillness pervaded the drawing room.

Mother and daughter were comfortably established amidst plush velvet cushions. The room, suffused with the scent of a freshly brewed pot of tea, exuded serenity; tranquillity was only interrupted by the gentle clinking of china. Tendrils of fragrant steam danced from the teapot, mirroring the restlessness that curled lazily between them.

“Thomas is indeed a gentleman,” mused Lady Wintersley into a cup of Congou. “One finds it challenging to reconcile his amiable disposition with that of Jack’s.”

Helena, her cheeks suffused with a subtle blush, nodded. “He is indeed intriguing, Mother. His stories are quite moving.”

Holding a nearly translucent potbelly teapot in her hand, Lady Wintersley poured more fragrant tea for them both, her thoughts lingering on their guest. “Indeed,” murmured she pensively, “the peculiar bump upon his cheek did catch my attention.”

“I believe it bestows upon him a certain mysterious air,” admitted Helena. The blush deepened.

A brief silence descended upon them once more, broken only by the faint clinking of the tea set. A sense of cautious anticipation hung heavily in the air.

Following a prolonged, thoughtful pause, Lady Wintersley finally spoke. “Well, my dear, if Thomas does press his suit… He certainly appears to be a suitable man; however, the association with Jack might prove more disadvantageous than we initially assumed.”

“But Mother,” protested Helena, her teacup was halfway to her lips, “merely because Jack seems less than favourable does not mean we should tarnish Thomas with the same brush. It would be most unfair to him.”

Lady Wintersley regarded her daughter’s sincere countenance with a thoughtful gaze. “It would indeed be unjust to judge Thomas on the basis of Jack’s conduct. They are separate people and should each be considered according to his own merits.”

A smile graced Helena’s features upon receiving her mother’s commendation of her perspicacity. She took a dainty sip of tea, anticipating that her mother would continue.

“Should Thomas present himself once more in pursuit of your company,” said Lady Wintersley with a measure of reluctance, “you may indeed entertain his attentions.”

Helena leaned forward to the edge of her seat, a surge of excitement coursing through her.

“I must, however,” resumed Lady Wintersley with forthright concern, “implore you to exercise caution in his presence.”

Helena’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. “But why, Mother? Thomas has shown nothing but kindness towards me.”

“Indeed, he has,” conceded she. “Yet, as you mature, you will discern that individuals are not invariably as they appear. A man’s charm and kindness do not preclude the possibility of his harbouring secrets.”

“Everyone harbours secrets,” retorted Helena with a touch of naive defiance.

“There lies a distinction, my dear,” said Lady Wintersley with gentle reproof. She rested her hand upon Helena’s.

“But he would never—”

“We cannot be certain of that, Helena. That is precisely my concern. I would not bear to see you wounded by misplaced trust. Promise me your caution.”

A hush, laden with uncertainty and trepidation, enveloped the room. “I promise, Mother,” murmured Helena eventually in concession. “I shall exercise caution.”