The Seventh Miss Hatfield (22 page)

Dazed by everything Mr Beauford had just revealed, I went outside to take some deep breaths of fresh air. I could only imagine the intense shock Henley was experiencing. He’d fled to his room and bolted the door behind him. I knew because I’d tried to follow him after telling the doctor to go in and tend to Mr Beauford. When I tapped at Henley’s door, I heard the bolt slide shut.

Knowing Henley needed time to process everything he’d just heard, I went to the stables and had a chat with Bessie. Wellesley wasn’t around, so I could talk freely rather than whispering to her as I had many times before. I told her all about Mr Beauford’s deception of Henley, about Henley’s disillusionment now that his entire world had been turned upside down. I told her that I’d fallen deeply in love with Henley, but that it was an utterly hopeless situation from which I must extricate myself, and the sooner, the better. She snorted at that, as if agreeing with me. I fed her a carrot and stroked her soft nose for a couple of minutes before heading back to the main house.

I walked slowly, wondering how Henley was feeling now. Nearly an hour had passed, but I knew this was something that might take him a lifetime to get over. I wanted to help him, but had absolutely no idea how. Once inside the house, I aimlessly wandered from the parlour to the kitchen, unsure of where I was going or what I would do. I found myself once again outside Henley’s door. I was about to knock when I thought better of it and started to step away, but then I heard the sound of muffled sobs coming from within. I knocked on the door and called softly, ‘Henley, dearest, please open the door. Is there anything at all I can do to help you?’

I stood there, praying he would open up and let me see him, though I had no clue what I could possibly say that might make his hurt any less. ‘Henley, darling … please just let me see you. I’m not going away until you open the door.’

I heard him blow his nose and knew he was trying to make himself a bit more presentable. I couldn’t have cared less what he looked like at that moment. I just wanted to hold him and comfort him. But when he opened the door, his eyes were red and bloodshot from crying, and he had the look of a defeated man about him. His shoulders were slumped, so unlike his usual sharp posture.

Regardless, I took a step towards him, thinking to give him a sisterly hug to reassure him, but he recoiled from me the same way he had from his father when Mr Beauford had last called him ‘son’.

‘What do you want? I don’t want your pity, for God’s sake,’ he growled. His voice sounded like gravel. He flung the door open wider. ‘Come in, if you’re that reckless. I’m not a pretty sight, and I won’t be for some time to come.’ He crossed to his writing table, where two snifters and a carafe of brandy stood. ‘Would you join me in a drink?’ he asked with false gaiety, waving me towards a chair.

I shook my head no. ‘I’m afraid I’m not a drinker,’ I said softly. ‘But I completely understand if you need to drown your sorrow—’

A guttural laugh escaped him; unlike his carefree belly laugh that he favoured me with sometimes, this laugh had an air of danger about it, and it frightened me. ‘Drown? What a cruel choice of words, considering my dear daddy drowned at sea.’ He began pouring himself a snifter of the brown liquid, then thought better of it and took a deep swig directly from the carafe. He ambled over to sit on the bed, dangling his legs over the edge of the mattress as he faced me, holding the carafe at calf-level in both hands. I’d never expected to see him like this. I had no idea what to say next, for fear that anything I came up with would set him off again.

He took another long pull from the carafe. ‘You know, “Rebecca”—’ and now his voice dripped with sarcasm ‘—if that’s even truly your name, because something tells me it’s not …’ He smacked his lips and had another drink. ‘You know, Miss Righteous Honour— Are you afraid you’ll be disgraced by kissing me and having me marry another?’ He laughed at his own wit. ‘That’s a fine name for you, let’s change it to that, what do you say? Miss Whoever You Are, I don’t expect you to understand this at all, because I surely do not, but I have absolutely no idea who I am right now. Which really makes us perfect for one another, my sweet, because I don’t know who the hell you are, either. And neither do you, I suspect.’ He was getting drunk rapidly, and hitting closer to the truth than he could possibly know. I wanted to leave, but was frozen there in my chair.

‘You needn’t worry about me disgracing your reputation,’ he mumbled as he set the carafe on the floor and began to unbutton his shirt. ‘I can’t even stand right now, much less do anything to a delicate flower such as you. All that’s left is for me to sleep this off.’ He fell back on his bed, then turned onto his side and looked at me with a terrible sadness in his beautiful eyes. ‘Go on, get out of here, before I embarrass myself further. I must look a sight.’ With that, he rolled onto his back and almost at once fell into a deep, if troubled, sleep. I crossed over to him, pulled his shoes off and covered him up with a blanket.

‘Yes, you are a sorry sight at the moment, Henley,’ I said as I gently kissed his forehead, ‘but I still love you.’ I quietly made my way out of his room, hoping he would fall asleep to numb his pain, though I was certain he’d be hung over whenever he did awake.

The next morning, I chose to have breakfast in my room once again. I knew Henley’s head would be throbbing from his hangover and didn’t want to cause him more pain on any level; he needed time to sort things out for himself. As was my wont these past few days, I saddled up Thunder and went for a ride, but took my time about it. I breathed deeply, and when we got close to the old mill, I dropped the reins and let Thunder walk wherever he chose. This wonderful horse and I had formed a mutual admiration society now. We trusted one another. I extended my arms straight out to either side and did my best to embrace the day. I was desperately attempting to feel alive in this moment, focused, even if only for a short while. The pangs in my stomach had increased throughout the night, and I knew this was a signal that I didn’t have long left in this reality.

‘There, Thunder, good boy,’ I murmured as we stopped under the spreading branches of one of the trees. I dismounted and let the horse help himself to some grass. I knew he wouldn’t take off, and even if he did, a long walk back to the estate wouldn’t hurt me. However, I was loath to return for other reasons. I’d been awakened by a dream that Mr Beauford had died in the night. Yet when I descended the stairs to slip out for my ride, no one was astir in the house. The intuitive feeling only grew stronger, though, and I knew at the core of my being that when I got back, the old gentleman would have passed on.

I skipped a couple of rocks over the water, going over my memories of my short time with Henley. I knew I was procrastinating, delaying my inevitable return to the house. Growing bored after a while, I sat down where Henley and I had sat when we visited this lovely spot. Closing my eyes, I tried to relive that innocent day, but I kept feeling waves of desire pulse through me as the scene of our kiss a few nights ago washed over my memory and sent shivers through my body. The pain in my stomach was slightly muffled by these pangs, but it remained ever present, ever growing.

‘Now, Rebecca,’ I told myself out loud, ‘or whatever my name is these days, you must relinquish such feelings for Henley. They’ll only frustrate you more, and cloud your judgement. Besides, his mind is certainly not on what happened between us. His father is gone, and he’s still in shock after learning that the man who raised him wasn’t truly his father at all. You must go back and be strong for him, like a good friend. No, like a sister. He needs support. You can do this!’ I finished my pep talk, took a few more deep breaths and stood up.

To my surprise, Thunder had crept up silently behind me, and now he gently put his head over my shoulder, nuzzling me.

‘Aw, what’s the matter, Thunder?’ I teased softly. ‘I’ve been ignoring you, haven’t I? Well, I apologize, sir.’ I gave him a curtsey and he gently pawed the ground with a front hoof. ‘Oh, ready to go, are you? Very well, let’s be on our way.’

Reluctantly, I mounted the horse and turned his head homewards. He wasn’t in a big hurry, either, he just seemed to feel that we needed to get on with the day. Animals are amazingly intuitive at times, I thought. Why can’t people be like that more often?

As we approached the stables, gently trotting down the path towards the house, my feelings were confirmed. There was a very early-model hearse parked out front, and as it drove off, I saw the coffin inside. Many of the servants were standing on the porch, watching as it disappeared. But Henley wasn’t there. I handed the reins to a servant and made my way into the house. The remaining servants filtered back inside, all except Nellie, who walked over to meet me.

‘Oh, Miss Rebecca,’ she said sadly. ‘I’m not sure what to think. Mr Beauford hadn’t been happy for many years, and I know he’ll be better off where he’s gone, but …’ She paused, as if not quite sure what to say next.

I had a pretty good idea what she was thinking. ‘But you’re wondering what will become of your job, as well as those of all the other servants?’ I offered.

She nodded nervously. ‘I feel horrible, being so selfish at a time like this, worried about my own well-being …’ She began to cry, and I knew it was partly worry, but also because she’d been fond of Mr Beauford and would miss him. I gathered her to me and patted her gently on the back, letting her release some of that pent-up emotion. It felt like comforting a sister or a cousin, and came very naturally. I’d grown so fond of Nellie, and she’d certainly taken wonderful care of my needs ever since I’d met her. The least I could do was let her have a cry and support her for a few minutes.

After a minute or so she stepped back, looking embarrassed. I pretended not to notice and simply offered her my handkerchief. ‘There you are, Nellie, you keep this, all right? Better now?’

‘Yes, miss. Thank you so much.’ She paused to blow her nose and to regain her composure before we walked up to the house.

‘You’re fine, Nellie,’ I whispered as I squeezed her arm, walking side by side with her. ‘Henley won’t throw anyone out in the cold, believe me. He has a heart of gold. If for some reason he sees fit to let anyone go, he’ll find them another station first, rest assured of that.’ I patted her arm again and then we walked up the front steps. She took her more familiar place a couple of steps behind me. The decorum that had been drilled into these servants from the time they could walk both fascinated and repelled me. Yet they weren’t slaves. They received a decent wage from the Beaufords and, in some ways, were treated almost like extended family. I sighed, knowing I couldn’t fix everything for everyone. As we walked through the doorway, I looked about, but Henley still wasn’t in evidence.

I turned to my friend. ‘Nellie, have you seen Henley this morning?’

Her face was almost back to its normal colour now and her eyes were brighter, having been washed with her tears. ‘No, miss. From what Eloise says, he was nowhere to be found in the house when the mortician arrived.’

Curious, I thought. Henley was no coward, but he was obviously still very emotional from what he’d learned about his birth, and doubtless had a headache to boot. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted the staff to see him that way and had slipped out. I knew he’d resurface soon. ‘Thank you …’ I began to say to Nellie, but she’d already left me standing there, deep in my thoughts.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I barricaded myself in my room and renewed my resolve to complete my task as soon as things settled down – destroy Mr Beauford’s collection of immortality artefacts, take the painting and go. The old man’s funeral was scheduled for the next morning, and it was dusk now. I’d seen neither hide nor hair of Henley, having decided to let him come to me when he needed to talk. I wasn’t hurt so much as surprised that he didn’t appear to feel any need to seek me out. I hoped he wasn’t on another bender somewhere, or in danger, but instead was finding some clarity – or at least some peace – about his upbringing.

I heard a gentle rap at my door, and when I opened it I found Eliza and Hannah standing there. ‘Oh, do come in, both of you,’ I invited, opening the door wide. Eliza was holding on to young Hannah’s arm, and I smiled to myself, happy to see they’d befriended one another. That was good, for both their sakes. ‘Do sit down,’ I offered, silently gesturing Hannah towards the chair I felt Eliza would be most comfortable in. The girl nodded and led her charge to it, then turned to exit the room.

‘Thank you, Hannah, but you may stay if you wish,’ I told her.

‘Oh, no, miss, I must go and help in the kitchen. They’re preparing things for Mr Beauford’s wake tomorrow, following the funeral.’ She glanced up at me, for she’d been looking down at her feet while speaking, as most of the servants did. I wanted to change that if I could, before I left, so that all of them felt comfortable looking anyone in the eye, anytime, anyplace. I knew that would have been impossible in most households, or at least risky if they wanted to keep their jobs, but in Henley’s house I believed it would be accepted. ‘Will you be attending the funeral, Miss Rebecca?’ she asked quietly. ‘Eloise wanted me to ask you, as Wilchester’s arranging carriages to take people to the church, and then the cemetery.’

‘Why, yes, of course I’ll go, out of respect for Mr Beauford,’ I replied. ‘And please thank everyone for all they’re doing to keep things flowing smoothly here.’

Hannah nodded and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her. I turned back to see a beatific look on Eliza’s face.

‘He’s with the angels now,’ she said, and I heard a slight tinge of envy in her voice. ‘Dear Mr Beauford … I look forward to joining you there before too many more years go by.’

‘I’m sure he’s free from his suffering now,’ I said, feeling a bit awkward in the presence of this somewhat saintly girl who had become my friend, but was still something of an enigma to me. ‘Did you wish to speak to me about anything in particular, Eliza?’

She started, as if I’d shaken her from a dream. ‘What? Oh, I just wanted to ask if it would be all right if I rode in the same carriage as you to the service tomorrow. Henley and Christine—’

‘Will be riding together, I’m sure,’ I interjected. ‘Of course – I shall be honoured to be your companion, Eliza.’

‘That’ll be lovely,’ she responded, ‘but what I was going to say was, Henley and Christine haven’t really made any plans yet about when or how they’ll get there. He’s been in absentia quite a lot these past couple of days.’ She turned her sightless gaze in my direction. ‘As have you, my friend. Every time I’ve asked about you at the dining table, they’ve told me you’ve been holed up here in your room.’ She paused, her expression one of sympathy. ‘You’d grown quite close to Mr Beauford, had you not? I’m sure you miss him, as I do.’

I blushed, and was glad she couldn’t see me doing so. I decided to be as forthright with her as I dared, as I had learned from our talks that she was quite intuitive. ‘Well, I enjoyed interviewing Mr Beauford, and hope I can write something that will do him justice. However, it’s Henley I’m closest to, and I felt he needed some space to work through his grief over the loss of his father.’ I wasn’t quite sure how much anyone else knew, if anything, about Mr Beauford’s final disclosure to Henley regarding the truth of his parentage, so I left it at that.

Eliza nodded understandingly. ‘Yes, well, hopefully the poor boy will pull through. Christine’s been incredibly frustrated that he won’t really talk to her.’ She’d lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, and I caught a trace of mischievousness in it; I knew she’d never approved of her sister marrying Henley to combine their family fortunes, and I suspected that Eliza was secretly hoping their marriage would never take place. I felt the same way, of course – for Henley’s sake, not for mine. I wasn’t a player in this … at least not for much longer. I stood up.

‘I don’t mean to be rude, Eliza, but I’m quite tired, and want to be refreshed for the service tomorrow. Shall I come to your room at the appointed time, so we can go downstairs together to board our carriage?’

‘Yes, please,’ she replied. ‘I need to rest, too, so you’re anything but rude in taking care of your needs, Rebecca. If you could come by my room around nine, I’ve been told the carriages will be leaving promptly at nine-thirty. That’ll give us time to get organized and so forth. Is that all right?’ She stood up and I took her arm, as she hadn’t brought her walking stick along.

‘Yes, perfectly all right, dear friend.’ I escorted her to the door, and then along the hallway to her room. ‘Would you like me to send Hannah or Nellie up to help you get ready for bed?’ I queried.

‘No, no, I rather like doing my evening routine on my own, Rebecca.’ She turned and gave my hand a quick squeeze. ‘Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Yes, you do the same,’ I replied. It always took me by surprise that she still said ‘see you’ when she was completely blind, but I supposed that phrase made the most sense. I had such admiration for Eliza’s tenacity, and although I didn’t understand her ardent faith in a God who had allowed her sight to vanish, I admired that, too.

I resolved to get up with the sun, to go for an early morning ride and gather some wild flowers from a nearby meadow to take to the funeral. I hoped I’d be able to complete my real mission sometime within the next few days, and I felt a bit overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. I’d enjoyed my time here, and I didn’t want to leave Henley or the other friends I’d made, but I was growing increasingly uncomfortable and knew that Miss Hatfield would surely come for me soon. Anticipation and sadness rose up within me at that thought as I laid down my head to sleep.

The night passed quickly; it was one of those occasions when I’d no sooner closed my eyes than they flew open again, and I couldn’t have fallen back asleep even if I’d wanted to. ‘No matter,’ I said to myself as I glanced at the clock – five-fifteen. That was fine. The sun would be up in a few minutes and I’d be on my way to the meadow before anyone else was stirring.

Quickly I laid out an appropriately sombre dark grey dress to wear to the funeral, as Henley hadn’t allowed me to purchase anything black on our shopping spree so many weeks ago. I’d wanted a black dress, but he simply wrinkled his nose and said, ‘Too drab and dreary – next!’ I smiled at that memory, and hoped my dear Henley would someday soon recover his humour and usually happy outlook.