1. My Aunt. Chapter 23


    Date: 2/25/2017, Categories: First Time, Author: Annamagique, Rating: 9, Source: LushStories

    I remained seated whilst Aunt Helen went to the desk and poured tea. She brought me one cup and placed it on the small table beside the chair then returned and brought me a plate with some butter and jam and a silver knife along with a rack of half slices of toast which she also placed on the table. I waited whilst she then went to get her own tea and returned to her chair. I put butter on a half slice and raised it to my lips. It was then that I realised I was not particularly hungry and after taking just one small bite, placed the slice back on my plate and returned it to the table, taking up instead the pretty cup and saucer. I held it to my chest and stared out of the window. After a while I noticed that Aunt Helen was also holding her saucer in the same way except that she was not staring out of the window but at me. “Oh!” I said, “I am sorry, did you say something?” She smiled. “No, my dear, I did not. I was just watching you, thinking.” I frowned. “Thinking? Thinking about what?” “Nothing especially,” she replied. “I was just thinking what you have been through in the last few weeks and how wonderfully well you have conducted yourself.” She waited for a moment. I did not reply right away. I was lost for words. This was so unexpected. She continued, “You know, Victoria, you remind me of someone.” “I do?” I replied, “Who?” “It doesn't matter,” she answered and took a sip from her tea cup. “Are you not hungry?” she added. I sighed. “Not really.” A pause, then, “I liked ...
    Thomas. It was very hard watching him leave this morning. I hope they make him well again.” “If anyone can, they can,” she said, matter of factly. “You wanted to talk to me, Aunt Helen.” I tried to change the subject, take my mind off him. She put her cup down slowly on the little table beside her chair. “Hmm... yes, I do.” She clasped her hands momentarily under her chin, deep in thought as if unsure how to begin. “I told you that, when I was ready, I would tell you about myself. Well, I think that you have proved to be a very mature and trustworthy young woman so I will tell you.” I didn't speak but listened intently, almost holding my breath. “This house belonged to my mother and father,” she began. “Before I was born, they had a son, my brother Henry but, sadly, I never knew him. He was an officer in the Light Cavalry. Sadly, he was killed at the battle of Balaclava in the Crimean war in October, 1854. My parents were devastated, he was only twenty years old and from that moment, kept trying for another child. They were unsuccessful until, in 1867, when I was born. By this time, though, my mother was fifty-three years old. The strain of the pregnancy and a difficult birth was too much for her and she passed away soon after I was born. My father became a bit of a recluse after that but he adored me.” Aunt Helen stopped and just sat, a faraway look in her eyes as the memories came flooding back. I didn't press her but waited patiently until she was ready to continue. After a ...
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