A MOTHER'S FINAL GIFT

CHAPTER 3: THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE

A little unknown fact about Mrs Maria Hale, was that she relished puzzles.

She was fond of any variety of entertainment which comprised of putting pieces together – whether that be objects or information – through the careful art of analysis and arrangement. In the end, her reward was a flawless, finished, and irrefutably final result.

As a young child, the then Miss Beresford had been intrigued and infatuated by a series of such games that an uncle of hers had brought back from his travels abroad. Her favourite had been a sequence of tiny fragments of a hard-backed painting, all cut up into obscure and desolate shapes, which had lain scrambled and amassed, teasing her intellect, drawing her in. It turned out − much to the delight of her shrewd curiosity – that the purpose of the activity was to methodically couple and connect all the parts together, through the study of determining their interlocking shapes. Eventually, one would be able to link them all together, thus completing the project.

Maria Beresford had found the pastime most enthralling and indeed, rewarding. To her, there was something sincerely stimulating about being given a disjointed and somewhat chaotic artifact - a conundrum - and then being afforded the challenge of using one's wit to conclude the undertaking. More besides, as a young lady who appreciated precision and neatness, she found the concept of putting everything in its right and proper place most pleasing. As a result, she had spent many an absorbed and contented hour playing with and accomplishing the various enigmas that her uncle had gifted the clever child.

Yes, Mrs Maria Hale had a particular penchant for puzzles.

However, it had been many years since she had indulged in such diverting amusements and had almost quite forgotten her fondness for it. But it now seemed that perhaps her dormant talents would need to make a reappearance - a revival - a resurrection, for she had been presented with a recent and most baffling riddle that begged to be unravelled and explained.

It was a surprise to Mrs Hale when, at eleven minutes past twelve on a particular Thursday morning, after thinking about her dear daughter and what sort of future she might wish for, that the image of a certain manufacturer had crept uninvited into her mind's eye.

Mr Thornton.

On the first occasion of him penetrating her daydreams, she had simply batted all thoughts of the intruding man away and attempted to refocus her musings on Margaret.

Ah, that was better, she was back to thinking about her precious child.

She began to envision the young lady in a handsome gown at a grand party, her soft porcelain skin illuminated by the twinkling candlelight. Oh! How divine she looked, what an enchanting figure she cut...then...wait...what...when...how did he get there? He was in her reveries yet again! As Margaret stood conversing with some people who were a figment of the mother's fancy, there that man was, standing directly by her side, looming over her like some great phantom. Or perhaps more like an out of place tree, for he was very tall indeed.

Mrs Hale had to blink furiously in order to bid the vision to vanish. She nibbled her lip nervously, speculating as to what could have caused such a perplexing illusion.

Hmm...

Perhaps she was just a little overwrought. Yes, she had not slept peacefully the past few nights due to her aches and pains and her anxieties about Fred's probable return to England. To be sure, in her weary haze, her awareness must be drifting between wake and slumber, casting the surreal ghosts of strange visions upon her. She shook her head impatiently, hoping to clear away the cobwebs that had been spun in her psyche at the hand of lethargy. Even so, she suddenly sat up a little straighter and crumpled her temple in critical contemplation.