"No, there are no scoundrels in my life - terrible or otherwise." Although, that certainly wasn't through lack of trying on her Mother's part. The woman was determined to marry off her eldest daughter, and was at times - completely rediculous. Anna had no shame. Everytime that a new Family moved to town, or within a ten mile radius, she was there like a blood hound snouting out a potential suitor.

Truth be told, Matilda had felt little interest in anybody. Major Bradford had left quite an impression on the young lady in Bath, and whether she was aware of it conciously or not - she couldn't stop herself from comparing every potential suitor that she met, to him.

"And truth be told, I know not of Alice's dowry. I assume her parents to be rather wealthy, if their home is anything to judge by. But I'll have to watch it all unfold.."

Tilly was fascinated by people. And as such, she just loved to sit in the windowseat with a good book and watch the world go by.

"Is your brother William, well?"

Had Matilda expected Arthur to keep in touch? She supposed that the notion had crossed her mind. Was she even a little upset when months had passed on by and she heard nothing? Quite possibly. But, you should never make assumptions. Any annoyance that she'd felt at the time, had all but vanished. All that was in it's place now, was a warm sort of feeling at being able to see him again.

"Is your brother William, well?"

Arthur’s relationship with his family always suffered when posted overseas. Though there weren’t many in his life that he had the energy nor the desire to keep in contact, with William and his Mother, he tried to respond back to their letters in a timely manner. The truth be told writing letters was always a struggle. What do you write about? They do not want to hear about the fine details of the war, especially considering the more unsavoury aspects of the war easily slipped through into his writings. Both his brother and Mother wanted to know how he was going but without truly wanting to know the bloodshed and hellish conditions he and his fellow soldiers had to endure.

William, at the disdain of his Father, took after his Mother in character. A very sweet and sensitive man, but lacked the fortitude and courage needed of a man to deal with the realities that was beyond his comfortable estate and high society.

“William is as well as any man who has eight children under one roof would be.” Arthur chuckled to himself. William never had any intentions of fathering so many, and even in the past three years since Bath Eleanor had given birth to two boys and just recently two twin girls.

“I presume Eleanor has kept you informed of the twins that were born earlier in the year.”

"Yes, she did. Although, I think I've possibly lost track of the overall score. Is it seven, now?"

The thought of Family life was appealing. Your own small family unit. No travelling around, or nauseating matchmaker efforts from your damn Mother. Tilly had always pondered what it might be like having children of her own. After all, her younger sister Eloise had just this month had her first child. A daughter named Annabelle after their Mother. A kind gesture on the sister's part, but one that Matilda would resolutely not be making. Still, that was all a long way off for her., wasn't it? She wasn't even engaged.

"I do like Bath." Tilly uttered absentmindedly, "It's very pretty, but I think I prefer to be by the sea. Well, not here - obviously. If I had a choice.

The carriage came to a stop and the driver, Jack; hopped down and opened the door for the pair. Matilda sat herself up with a distracted sigh.

"Here we go again. Hop number seventy-five."

Of course she hadn't actually been counting her own movements, but it demomstrated the effort that it took to actually. But with a cheerful smirk, she tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

"Feel free to throw me over your shoulder."

The carriage came to a stop and the driver opened the door.

"Feel free to throw me over your shoulder."

Arthur returned her smile and climbed out of the carriage ahead of her. Sweeping her off her feet he carried the petite woman in his arms into the Grand Manor of the Farr Family.
Not sure where he was taking her, he entered the first room on the left of the grand entrance way that lead to an adjoining sitting room. He placed her gently on the couch with her foot raised.

As soon as she was made comfortable a dishevelled Footman stumbled in with a mixed expression of concern and alarm.

“Miss Farr has injured her ankle,” Major Bradford said before the Footman could respond to the unknown officer in the sitting room.

“Please stoke the fire and fetch the lady some tea and cakes if the kitchen has any,” the Major commanded.
Turning his attention the Matilda, he removed the sash around his waist that most cavalry officers wore.

“Do you mind if I take a look?” He asked motioning to her ankle. “I do have some experience with treating sprains and at the very least provide a little more comfort until a Doctor can visit tomorrow.”
Arthur bent down and delicately removed her shoe from her swollen ankle.

"You don't mean look, do you? You mean poke it and wrap it up.."

Matilda was largely dubious about letting anybody be within three inches of it, let alone wrap it up. But, it wasn't time for her to be churlish. No. She had to suck it up, and think about the fact it would all be over soon...

The urge to barrel kick like Bessie the horse, was alarmingly strong. When the mahor took her shoe off, the young woman cringe. A shooting pain eminating through her whole body. For the first time since the event, Tilly feld herself quite angry at the two daults tht caused it. Despite that, she was grateful for Arthur. It could have been Henry man handling it, and he had the finess of a hog.

"I'm going to try really hard not to kick you." She admitted bluntly, "But I can't promise it" There was a mildly mischievous sheen to her smile, when the door opened. Matilda tilted her head back, and there was Jack. He had a silver train dotted with scones and tea.

"Thank you Jack. We can pour it. Do go back and rest."

Jack nodded, "Aye Miss Tilly. You just send for Mary or I if you need us."[/i] He nodded his head politely, before stepping back outside. Matilda glanced down at her foot.

"Is it rather fat?

"You don't mean look, do you? You mean poke it and wrap it up.."

Deep in concentration as he tightly wrapped the swollen ankle, he kept his eyes on her foot.

“Yes because us Military men are sadists who take pleasure in inflicting pain on young women,” Arthur replied.

"I'm going to try really hard not to kick you." She admitted bluntly, "But I can't promise it"

Arthur snorted in response, as he finished wrapping her swollen foot.

“That is not very lady like of you. I do feel sorry for the local doctor to have to endure such patient tomorrow morning,” he said as he returned the smirk.

"Is it rather fat?”

“If I say yes am I going to get sent sprawling to the floor? Because if so then no, that is the daintiest most delicate ankle I have ever laid my eyes up.” Now at this point a little concerned that he would be sent flying to the floor.

He finished wrapping the ankle just as the Footman came and left, leaving the tray of tea and scones on the nearby table.

"As amusing as that spectacle sounds, no. I shouldn't think that you'll be sent sprawling to the floor." A light hearted chuckle escaped Matilda's flushed pink lips as she sat up. "And I take offence to your slight on my ladylike qualities." The tone suggested that she hadn't taken the slightest offence to Arthur's playful teasing, but she had to atleast be seen to protest her honour.

The ankle felt far sturdier with the strap on, so she decided to be incredibly brave and up she stood. Expecting the same unpleasant shock waves, she closed her eyes rather humorously. However, when the pain didn't come, her eyebrow perked and her blue eyes opened one at a time. Albeit in a tentative manner.

"Well, I'm impressed at your ankle strapping skills." Tilly concluded. The foot was by no means comfortable, but it was certainly less angry. "Thank you. Would you like some tea? Having quite the sweet tooth, she immediately noted the scones and jam. A little disappointment surged through her at the absence of clotted cream, and she was half tempted to fetch some.. But the formidable Mary was sure to tell her off. The housekeeper was quite a force. Lovely. But terrifying.

"Are you a plain scone, or a fruit scone sort of person?" She asked in curiosity, fixing Arthur with her gaze, "I recommend answering carefully, or I might ask you to leave.."

“So are you telling me that you do not expect me to leave?” Arthur asked in surprise. As enjoyable as their time had been for himself, and he had hoped, for Matilda as well, he had not expected his company to be welcomed after their arrival to Wakehurst.

‘Then I refuse to make a choice, because I don’t want to leave.”

He took a cup of tea instead and sat on a chair near the couch. He hadn’t expected the evening to unfold as it did. To be sipping tea in the company of Matilda Farr whom he had not thought of for several years. Several hours previously he could not distract his mind from thoughts of the war and what awaits him and his men upon their return. Now all he could think about was her...

“But I do recall you telling me to avoid the jam, which I presume is still the case.”

He was transfixed by the loose curl that had found its way free near her ear. A part of him longed to gently tuck the loose hair behind her ear, and to feel her cheek brush against his fingers. What am I doing he thought, taking a sip to bring him back to reality.

“So please do tell me Matilda. How does a woman of your character like to spend her evening? Other than inviting Military Officers in for scones.” He asked trying to draw his mind back to the here and now. But instead he found himself glancing too long at her flushed pink lips.

"If you'd like me to be entirely honest, Major Bradford, I spend the evenings trying to avoid my Mother."

Tilly sat down on the couch, being sure to straighten her skirt as she did so.

"I enjoy cross stitch.." And after a sip of tea, she continued. "But unfortunately, I am terrible at it.."

Perhaps one of the most refreshing traits that Matilda had, was her honesty. The young woman could laugh at herself and admit her faults. But that had caused her much confusion over the years. You are told to be truthful, yet her Mother always chastised her for it. The anguished comments about her personality did at times make her doubt herself. Anna could be right. Maybe she was an impossible person, that would no doubt be resigned to spinsterhood and cat ownership. A hopeless cause..

Or, perhaps she didn't care.

"And I would not send you away, I enjoy your company.."

And why wouldn't she? He was handsome, amusing - and a laundry list of other things too. Was she swooning? Absolutely not. A bit. A lot, actually, but she kept it underwraps.

"I only ever entertain Officers on a Friday evening." She teased in good humour. "But they dont all get tea and scones, consider yourself lucky.." A pretty smile crossed her features as she set her teacup down on the table. "Thank you for escorting me home."

Arthur took a sip of his tea. The initial awkwardness of meeting Matilda again had faded and replaced by the friendly banter they shared back in Bath. The only difference, they were no longer accompanied by friends and family.

“Well I do feel privileged indeed to be one of the select few. I dare say you need to sprain your ankle more often as this is a nice change to conversing in a larger gathering.”

He was thinking of Mrs Farr specifically. From what he had been told by Matilda and Eleanor, the gate-keeper to Matilda’s time and attention isn’t always the easiest to get along with. This moment he is sharing with Matilda, he knew would be few and far between.

Taking the last sip of his tea and placing back on the side table, Arthur dropped the smile.

“I’m sorry Matilda,” he said.
“I do regret not writing to you. It is of no fault of your own. I very much enjoyed the friendship that we shared in Bath.”

His thoughts went back to the days leading up to him leaving Bath; internally wrestling with the thought of proposing. His brother had been right, there were very few people who he enjoyed their company as much as Matilda. But at the end of the day he was the second son with a modest income, though enough for him to live, not one to provide a lifestyle that Matilda would be accustomed to.

Arthur could be rather funny, and she'd almost forgotten that about him. Unfortunately, alot of the socialisng that Matilda found herself engaging in, was largely superficial. You spoke with the people that you mixed with, and you mixed with people because they were deemed to be a part of your circle. It was all stuff and nonsense in her opinion. The blonde was quite lost in thought when Arthur apologised.

"I don't suppose that you have reason to apologise. You never told me that you would write..And even if you had, I think that you would have a valid excuse for not doing so."

Matilda understood that Arthur hadn't simply been off sauntering about some estate in the Cotswolds. He had gone to war. And because of that, she was willing to cut the Major some slack.

"Not to mention that it was quite a few years ago now." She added with a smile. Tea cup now empty, she stood and popped it back onto the table. There was a rather undesirable cramp that had settled into her bad ankle. Not one to complain though, she simply decided that the change of position could be quite helpful.

"Are you staying at the Barracks? Or residing with the Colonol? Alice told me that Mrs Hollyworth had taken a house not far from their own." The gaze flicked onto the Major in interest. It was hard not to wonder what might have been had they kept in contact. And it was also hard not to wonder what it would be like to kiss him.

Matilda, stop it

It was merely a perfectly innocent curiosity.

Arthur paused and sat in silence pondering what Matilda had said. She was right in saying that he had neither promised or been asked to write to her, and therefore had no obligation to do so. In truth that wasn’t the reason for his regret.

“Yes I might have had a valid excuse, but that doesn’t negate the regret of not attempting to continue on fostering what we had in Bath.” Arthur finally replied. “In truth I had contemplated proposing while in Bath.”
Arthur paused, wondering if he had divulged too much inappropriately.

“I’m sorry, I should not have burdened you with that. I had always meant to write but...”

He stood up and started to pace around the room, a habit he had developed in awkward conversations.

“But war complicates life.” He continued. “But please for my sake, let us leave the past behind us and enjoy the time that we have.”

He paused and stood awkwardly. He had been a fool. There was no virtue in dredging up the past to deal with past regret. Matilda did not need to know what he had meant or wanted to do. That was years ago, now ancient history.

I need to leave.

“Well I better not give the servants any more gossip, I will fetch the driver and return the carriage to the Hall.”

I had contemplated proposing while in Bath

Matilda blinked in disbelief. He had contemplated proposing, but decided against it? Was that a slight on her character? She wasn't sure. Instead, she fiddled with on of the tiny buttons on the front of her dress.

Did Eleanor know? Why hadn't she told her?

"You decided against it, though?"

With an eyebrow perked, she looked at the Major, a small chuckle escaped her lips at that notion, but sadly it didn't last long. The shooting pain was back, and the blonde let out an audible gasp. A frown crossed her features as she sucked in her bottom lip.

"But, if you want to leave, I shan't stop you. I might think it mildly unnecessary and odd, but I shan't stop you." A small smirk crossed her features. He really was quite the puzzle, wasn't he?

"You decided against it, though?"

He paused halfway to the door. What had he done he thought as he turned round to face Matilda. He wasn’t thinking logically and allowed his emotions to get the better of him. Only if she understood what it was like over the channel; the constant fear of death, the stress and pressure of having 500 men in your care.

“Because I didn’t want to make you a widow,” he said taking a step towards her. “Because over there is my living hell. I wake up every morning not knowing if I would make it to the evening and I spent my nights writing letters to the families of the dead. I couldn’t bare the thought of one day my Colonel sending you that letter.”

Arthur turned away from her, embarrassed by his outburst. His cheeks flushed red and his heart pounded away in his chest. Right at that moment he longed to be anywhere, because at the very least on the battlefield he knew what he was meant to do.

The Major was brought back into reality as Matilda gasped, her face contort in pain. Arthur dashed to her and grabbed her shoulder to steady her.

“You need to sit Matilda,” he said.

But, if you want to leave, I shan't stop you. I might think it mildly unnecessary and odd, but I shan't stop you." She said, and even in the discomfort she ounced up the energy to smile.

Thoughout all of this time with Arthur, Matilda had never really fully absorbed the magnitude of what he had experienced. And as he spoke, she couldn't do anything but try to understand his reasoning. The Farr family had lost relatives to the War, one in particular was Tilly and Hery's much loved cousin, Alexander. It was a bracing reality slap.

Despite her realisation, Matilda did not have long to dwell. The ankle decided to remind her that it was still very much angry, and it took all of her strength not to sit down on the spot.

In a blur of seconds, Major Bradford was by her side, and she was suddenly accutely aware of his proximity to her. Truth be told, it wasn't anything like she had experienced before. And rather alarmingly, she couldn't help but not how good he smelt. The blonde was lost in a barrage of sensations, and she found herself just gazing at him. In a barely audible voice, she spoke.

"Perhaps I should."

"Perhaps I should." Matilda whispered. She did not flinch at his touch, and looked up at him. Arthur gazed back into her blue eyes and lost his train of thought. He hesitated, not sure what to do, or what Matilda wanted him to do. She made no movement , nor did she object to his closeness to her. Aware of how tightly he held her shoulder, he loosened his grip and gently slid his left hand down to just below her sleeve to steady her. The softness of her skin, the look that she gave him threatened to tear his heart out of his chest. His gaze moved down to her flushed pick lips and froze for a millisecond as time slowed.

Arthur raised his other hand and brushed the loose curl behind Matilda’s ear as his fingers brushed her cheek. Without giving it further thought, his hand traced the contours of her cheek until his fingers found the soft skin of her chin and tilt her head delicately towards him. At this point Arthur had relinquished control, closed his eyes and leant forward, brushing his nose ever so lightly against her own. Her sweet fragrance was intoxicating. He edged closer to brush his lips against hers and could feel her breath on his lips.

He froze.

His mind kicked into overdrive.

What am I doing? Nothing has changed.

In eight months time he would be shipped off to Spain to risk his life day after day. Nothing has changed. Everyday he would live with the knowledge that Matilda would be left in England wondering if today would be the day she would receive that letter.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, millimetres from her lips. He released his hold of her and turned away.

“Matilda, I... I just can’t. Nothing has changed. In eight months I will be gone and I can’t guarantee that I will return.”

Not having the courage to front up to her response, he exited the sitting room.

Two Weeks Later at Wakehurst.....

"Matilda!! I said scatter more flour.. Not drown us all in a snow storm!!"

"I did just scatter the flour Mary... It was Henry laughing that made it fly all over the room.."

Matilda; in dire need of distraction from a certain Major, had decided that she wanted to learn to cook. Naturally, Mary had been largely unsure of how to start to teach her new pupil. The cross stitch had gone terribly, and in heartfelt honesty, the young Lady was incredibly clumsy. Of course she was kind and endearing, but she was a disaster area when it came down to the basics of life.

"Henry, if you continue to laugh at your sister, I'm going to ask you to leave the kitchen." The finger wagged as the matronly housekeeper continued, "In my wildest dreams did I never imagine having to scold you both fully grown."

The brother shrugged in a nonchalant manner, "Oh come on Mary, I promise not to laugh. I want to see Tilly make a pie. You shan't know I'm here.."

Tilly, who had scooped up the rolling pin by this point, waved it at her brother - but was promptly glared at by Mary and instead, she squashed her ball of pastry and started to roll it out.

Flour dotted her features, and she was far from the formal turnout expected at a review. The curls were down, and held back by a simple pale silver headband, and a sage green dress with long sleeves adorned her petite frame. The only small detail, was a flourish of French lace around the squared neckline. The ankle had been re-strapped by the Dr, and she was feeling much more chipper.

Two weeks had come to pass since that evening, and Tilly had not seen hide nor hair of Major Bradford, and for that she was grateful. The ankle had proven to be the perfect excuse to avoid all trips into town, so for the most part, she'd blocked him from her thoughts..sort of.

"That's it Tilly, just a little thinner and we'll be able to pot it into our dish.."

"Well, that bit there is rather fat.. You should try and get a more even surface.." Henry's words trailed off under the weight of two very stern scowls, and he held his hands up, "Just an observation of course, I know nothing of pastry.."

It was at that moment, that George bustled through. His face etched with amusement at the conversation he'd overheard. "Right, I'm going to be bringing the Colonol through in just a moment. John is polishing the hallway, so we must use the back entrance. Could I emplore you all to atleast feign decorum until we are out of earshot!"

The three nodded, but not before Matilda shot Henry a smug smirk. Which he promptly responded to by flicking even more flour in her direction. Mary simply shook her head in exasperation.

"For the love of God you two!!!! Concentrate Matilda Grace. We need this pie for supper.."

The passed two week for Arthur had been the slowest weeks of his life. The Colonel along with the other Officers at the Hall that evening did not need to enquire on the success of his evening. He had returned to his billets in a sour mood. The following day he threw himself into training the junior officers with renewed energy and ferocity. However, being an officer billeted at the Hollyworth estate meant he was not immune to the social obligations that came with the privilege of being a senior officer. On several occasions he had no choice but to dine and socialise when he would rather be by himself. One such guest was George Farr. The Colonel and Mr Farr had supposedly spent much of that Friday night at the Hall in conversation with each other, and after that night Mr Farr had been a regular guest to the various events and outings his fellow officers had organised.

Arthur knew that this day would come when the messenger from Wakehurst invited the Colonel and himself for afternoon tea and to tour the Wakehurst Estate. Major Bradford, though not at all wanting an opportunity to be reminded of how he foolishly treat Matilda, had no choice but to accept the offer. Thankfully his arrival did not lead to the family and household staff to great the two of them at the door as he had dreaded, but instead was lead through to the back to the garden and then into the kitchen.

The last place he expected to find Matilda was in the Kitchen. At first glance he had mistaken her as one of the staff until Mr Farr reintroduced his daughter and thanking the Major again for his service to the family that night. Bradford tipped his head respectfully to Miss Farr, and stood their awkwardly awaiting for George to lead them through into the rest of the house. He was saved by Mrs Farr who quickly bustled them out of the kitchen into the sitting room.

He sat on the same chair as the one two weeks prior, and wanted to be anywhere except in that sitting room. To their credit, in between Mrs Farr constant chatter, and Henry’s questions which the Colonel had the pleasure in answering, Major Bradford did not need to converse much except for the occasional nod in agreement. After thirty minutes, which felt closer to two hours, he excused himself to take a walk around their garden to escape and distract his mind from what had transpired in that room two weeks ago.

Arthur made his way to the garden and sat himself down on the bench and closed his eyes. Counting down the minutes until he should return to the sitting room before it comes across as rude.

The pie was safely in the oven, and Matilda; under instruction had gathered all of the linen cloth to hang out on the line. George had always been very strict with the upbringing of Matilda, Henry and Eloise. He wanted to ensure that the trio understood that they led a privileged exsistence. He didn't want three spoilt brats, happy to live off of the money bequeathed to them. He wanted his children to be grounded in reality, and productive. That included chores.

With a wicker basket in hand, Matilda emerged from the kitchen door. The young woman crossed the courtyard garden that was dotted with herbs and vegetables, before coming to a stop at the laundry line. It was admittedly her least favourite job. The linen cloths held water and dripped horribly as you pegged them, but she didn't grumble. Outloud at least.

Instead, she hummed - and then a little voice distracted her.

"Tilly, Tilly!!!!"

"We've got chicks, the chicks have hatched!"

A boy and a girl of about six came into view, and Matilda chuckled. Harry and Clementine were the children of Dougal, the head gardener. The pair lived in the gatehouse at the entry to the estate. The two little ones were allowed to roam as they pleased, and they did just that. Tilly wiped her hands on her apron and crouched down to talk to them.

"Have they? How many?"

Harry poked his tongue out in playful jest, so Matilda poked him gently on the nose. Clementine giggled, "Four!! We've got four fluffy ones."

"Four?" The blonde held up four fingers, "That's a lot of chicks..."

"Come and see them!" Harry tugged her hand, and Matilda laughed.

"You two go to the barn, and I'll come once I've finished this." She pointed to the laundry in the basket and made a funny face, before pretending to whisper, "I don't want Mary to tell me off.."

The pair giggled, before zooming away as quickly as they'd arrived. Naturally, Matilda's mind wandered back to Arthur. In sheer frustration, she sighed as she went about her job. Why couldn't she just forget about him.

Bloody idiot.

Arthur wasn’t a superstitious man, but seeing Matilda walk down the path he swore fate had something against him. Again at first glance he mistook her for a servant as she lugged the laundry basket through the garden. He immediately stood up and respectfully bowed his head as any Gentleman would. His instinct was to make a teasing remark on Wakehurst firing all their servants, but instead he bit his tongue.

“Miss Farr ...”

He paused. What was he meant to say, ‘hello, how have you been’? He had acted like a fool that night and he didn’t have the guts to say anything about it.

“Let me take that, I can’t allow someone with a sprained ankle to be hanging out the laundry,” he said without thinking. He took the basket from her hands and stood there feeling like an idiot. What am I doing? he thought.