The Seventh Miss Hatfield (11 page)

‘He has a son, doesn’t he?’ Miss Hatfield asked.

‘Who? Mr Beauford?’ Her question startled me.

‘Yes. I don’t know his son’s name – but he seems convinced you’re his cousin?’

‘I–I don’t know him that well, but I don’t think he’s suspicious at all.’

Miss Hatfield squinted at me again. ‘Wait for my instructions once you’re at the country house,’ she said, then paused. ‘And … who was that young man you were with?’

I knew she was talking about Henley in the ice cream parlour, but I was surprised to learn that she didn’t know he was Mr Beauford’s son. I wondered where I should start. Yes, I’d already told her the necessary details concerning the painting, but there was so much more I needed to say. I wanted to tell her about Henley, but I knew Miss Hatfield would disapprove. I decided to make nothing of it.

‘He’s just some gentleman’s son.’ I took another sip of tea so I wouldn’t have to add anything more.

‘You two appeared to be having a riveting conversation. Where on earth did you find time to meet him?’

I forced myself to inhale a deep breath, hoping that would calm me. How long had she been there watching us? How much did she know?

I opened my mouth, unsure what to say, but Miss Hatfield spoke first.

‘Don’t let him become a distraction. You have a lot to focus on as it is. We don’t need another complication.’

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

‘I thought you knew better.’ She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples as if she was a hundred years old. ‘I should have spent more time teaching you about the consequences of various actions for us.’ She paused again, then looked right into my eyes. ‘Do you remember what I told you about the fourth Miss Hatfield?’

‘That she died in an asylum?’

‘Her fiancé locked her up.’ Miss Hatfield’s voice was hard and emotionless.

‘And she died in there because they tortured her?’

‘Precisely. She thought she could trust someone. That was her downfall. Foolish, really. Idiotic.’

Miss Hatfield’s strong words made me swallow a bitter lump in my throat. She spoke as if she believed love was a choice that could be made willingly, and I couldn’t find it in myself to disagree with her. What did I know of love, anyway?

‘Love will weaken you,’ she said. ‘We’re not like other people. We’re not made like them. You won’t even be able to physically tolerate staying in one period of time for long. Your body knows it’s not supposed to be here in this time. It’s uncomfortable. Unnatural, even. And you’re not only putting yourself in danger, but also me. Loving him will cost you my life as well as yours. It’s a selfish thing and you can’t afford to give in to it.’

When I couldn’t respond, my hands tried to keep busy. They found a loose thread at the seam of my dress and began to work at it, dragging it out so it appeared to grow in my hands.

‘Don’t fall in love with him,’ Miss Hatfield said. ‘If you do, it’ll lead to your downfall.’

She stood up, signalling the end of our conversation.

Dawn chased at my heels as I crept back into the Beauford house. Once in my room, I changed into my nightgown so Nellie would think I’d slept, but in reality I spent the rest of those placid hours awake and worrying about what was to come. And, despite Miss Hatfield’s warning, with thoughts of Henley.

When Nellie crept into my room in the morning, I was already sitting upright in bed.

‘Oh, miss, I’m sorry not to have been here when you woke.’ She was quick to apologize and continued apologizing when I told her I’d been awake for hours before she arrived.

Nellie opened the curtains and pulled out a morning dress for me to wear to breakfast.

‘Will this do?’ she asked, holding up a dress with blue flowers on it.

‘Yes, that’ll be perfect.’

I’d learned that it was easier to say yes than to explain to Nellie that I simply didn’t care what colour my dress was, or what kind of peonies I would prefer on my bedside table, or anything like that. She didn’t know that I had more on my mind.

‘Did Mr—’ I realized I didn’t know Willie’s last name. ‘Did Willie spend the night here?’

Nellie’s hands froze when I called Willie by his first name.

‘I didn’t realize you and Mr Garner were so familiar with each other.’ Nellie’s mouth was agape, but she quickly began apologizing again. ‘E–excuse me. That’s none of my business. The younger Mr Beauford did ask Mr Garner to stay the night.’

‘No need to apologize,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid it skipped Henley’s mind to properly introduce us, so I never discovered his full name.’ I remembered how Henley had in fact forgotten to introduce us altogether. ‘And Henley? How’s he faring after the scare he had yesterday?’ I knew what had occurred in the park would already be common knowledge. The servants knew most, if not all, of what occurred among the folks ‘upstairs’.

‘I’m not sure how he is faring, but he did go out riding early this morning before breakfast. He should be back by now.’

I rushed to get dressed and ran downstairs to see Henley. I knew that if he was back, he’d probably be at breakfast.

‘Someone flew down the stairs … and not too gracefully, I might add. I could hear you all the way.’ Henley was seated at the head of the table in Mr Beauford’s absence, looking at me. It reminded me of all Henley would someday inherit.

I playfully swatted at Henley before taking my seat next to him. Across from me, Willie was already devouring a piece of toast overladen with marmalade.

‘We could hear you thundering along from a mile away,’ Willie chimed in. ‘How unladylike.’ He wrinkled his nose in a comical way.

‘And did you know she hates to shop? Or to have things bought for her?’ Henley said.

‘Nonsense, all women like to be showered with gifts!’

I couldn’t help but notice how familiar Willie was getting with me. I knew yesterday’s events had a lot to do with that. The frightful experience had brought us close, but still, we’d only met the day before. I paused, remembering that he also believed I was Henley’s cousin.

‘You’re lucky you’re too far away to swat,’ I said, and Willie wiggled his eyebrows in a way that reminded me of Henley.

A lot of the things Willie did reminded me of Henley. I accredited that largely to their similar upbringing. But there were many things Willie did that startled me. I realized that I expected him to act like Henley in a time when it was unusual for people to act like Henley.

When a servant took their plates, I saw that difference again. Henley thanked her, while Willie didn’t even acknowledge her.

I tried to let that go. Willie had somehow brought Henley back to his former self and I was thankful for that.

‘How’s your father?’ Willie asked suddenly. I held my breath, expecting Henley to relapse, to return to how he’d acted yesterday, but to my surprise he answered the question directly.

‘He’s well enough to travel. Dr Hanville said the fresh country air will be best for him.’

‘Is he coming to breakfast?’ I enquired.

‘I asked them to take up a tray for him when he woke. They said he wanted to come down, but I thought it would be best for him to conserve his strength.’

I was struck by his wording and couldn’t help repeating after him. ‘They said?’

‘Yes,’ Henley said. ‘They … a couple of the servants.’

‘He didn’t ask for you?’

‘I saw him for a few minutes when he first woke.’ He sighed. ‘Then he asked for his chaplain.’

‘Father Gabriel?’ I asked.

‘Of course, Father Gabriel.’

I hesitated as I wondered what I should say next. ‘So what are we doing today?’ I asked Willie, when I realized there wasn’t much more we could say about Mr Beauford. I knew Henley and I were supposed to be leaving for the country this morning, but I was sure that everything would be postponed due to Mr Beauford’s bad turn.

‘We?’ Willie asked.

‘Yes, we,’ said Henley. ‘I know you’re leaving tomorrow, but you must at least stay the day.’

I smiled when Henley backed me up.

‘So, what are we doing today?’ I asked again.

‘Why don’t we go boating?’ Willie suggested.

‘That sounds like fun.’

I’d never been boating, but tried not to let on to that fact. Henley didn’t appear to mind what we did, so we decided to go to the lake at Central Park.

‘Jim.’ Henley waved the butler over to his side. ‘We’ll be going to Central Park today. Have the coach ready in a few minutes.’

‘Yes, sir.’

I’d never get over how quickly the servants appeared and vanished at Henley’s beck and call. I knew they had to be ready, for they could be called at any moment, but I couldn’t quite figure out how they managed to be everywhere at once. I added this to the lengthening list of things in this time to which I knew I would never grow accustomed.

‘I think I’m ready,’ I announced when Henley and Willie appeared dressed up in their outing attire.

Willie wrinkled his nose at me and looked down at my bare hands.

‘I don’t believe so,’ he said. ‘Where are your gloves?’

‘In my room, I think … or maybe Nellie’s ironing them.’

‘Nellie?’ Willie looked from me to Henley and back again. ‘Who’s Nellie?’

‘My maid.’ Those words felt heavy in my mouth, but I couldn’t find another way to answer the question.

‘First Jim, then Nellie,’ Willie grumbled. ‘What is it with everyone remembering the help’s names?’ He continued, a bit louder, ‘They’re paid to do their jobs. We don’t need to remember their names.’

I was surprised at the fuss he was making over me remembering Nellie’s name. Of course I’d know her name. Why wouldn’t I?

Willie was still mumbling when he left the room. I made a move to follow him, but Henley grabbed my arm.

‘You should go and get your gloves,’ he said.

‘I never wore them when we went out before—’

‘You should go and get them.’

‘But—’

‘Please,’ he said, then walked out to join Willie, as if he’d signalled the end of our discussion.

I bit my lip, conflicted about the change in Henley when he was around Willie. I didn’t like being told what to do, but in a strange way I understood Henley was only trying to keep up pretences and play the role he had always played before I showed up.

I ran back up to my room to fetch my gloves. They were folded one on top of the other on my dresser like nesting doves. When I grabbed for them, they both flew to the ground. I picked them up and ran back downstairs and out of the door. I jumped the last few steps into the carriage.

The footman snapped the coach door shut behind me and the carriage lurched into motion.

There was silence as we rode. I couldn’t help but feel slightly responsible for it, after the business of me remembering Nellie’s name. Henley and Willie had been friends for far longer than I’d known either of them, and I wanted them to remain that way.

‘Oh, look – there’s the ice cream shop.’ I pointed out of the window as we passed it.

‘And look at all those people crowded inside. Some of them are our age – they just can’t let go of their childhoods!’ Willie scoffed and I glanced at Henley. I knew that comment must have hurt him, but he betrayed no sign of his feelings.

A few more minutes of uncomfortable silence went by. The carriage rocked from side to side steadily, repeating the only pattern it knew.

‘Miss Dorothy Jones’s Séance Parlour,’ I read from a sign attached to what looked like a regular house.

‘Pardon me?’ Willie looked up.

‘Miss Dorothy Jones’s Séance Parlour.’ I pointed outside. ‘I didn’t know séances were popular enough for someone to have set up shop here.’

To my surprise, Willie responded, ‘Séances are always popular,’ he said. ‘In fact, Mary once begged Mother and Father to invite those people to our house. First she wanted a psychic. Then it was a medium.’ Willie laughed and Henley joined in.

‘And did she succeed?’ Henley asked him.

‘Of course not – Mother had a fit. But I don’t think Mary’s quite given up on the idea. God only knows why she romanticizes contacting the dead.’

I was glad to hear Henley laughing again – things were slowly getting back to normal.

‘We should visit.’ The words just tumbled out of my mouth. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to go, but my recent experiences had shown me how different the world was compared to my beliefs. Who knew what might happen?

‘The séance parlour?’ Henley suddenly looked troubled and I cursed myself for bringing up such an idea. I’d momentarily forgotten his father’s incident yesterday and the fact that Henley had lost his mother.

‘I–I’m so sorry,’ I said.

‘No. We should go.’

The meaning of Henley’s words took a few moments to dawn on me. I never thought he’d agree.

‘You really don’t have to. I was only—’

‘We should go. It can’t be that bad.’ Henley cracked a smile.

‘Are you sure?’ This time it was Willie who asked.

Instead of giving a direct answer, Henley knocked on the side of the carriage, making the driver stop.

The servant came around and opened the door. He helped Henley down, then Willie. I saw Henley thank him. He didn’t even have to think about it. It was second nature to Henley, but Willie looked right through the servant, as if he saw furniture in place of the man.

All of a sudden, I realized that Willie was nothing like Henley after all, and my respect for Henley only increased. I’d not had anybody to compare him to before.

As if reading my thoughts, Henley smiled up at me and helped me down from the carriage.

‘Thank you.’ I felt I was thanking him for more than just helping me down. And it felt like he understood when he squeezed my hand.

‘Miss Dorothy Jones’s Séance Parlour,’ Willie said. ‘It’s right there.’ He looked back at us as if to ask whether we were sure we wanted to do this.

Henley only nodded as he went ahead of Willie and pushed open the door.

‘Good afternoon,’ a female voice called out to us.

It took a while for our eyes to grow accustomed to the gloom within, but when they did, I saw a willowy woman approach us.

‘Good afternoon,’ Willie said.

‘I am Miss Jones.’ The woman gave her hand to Willie and Henley in turn. She only glared at me. ‘You are here for a séance.’

Her sentence wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

When Henley tried to say something, the woman hushed him.

‘You are now in the house of the spirits. Be respectful.’ She beckoned a younger girl from the shadows behind her. ‘Clara, show these people to the parlour.’ The older woman turned back to us. ‘I will be with you shortly.’

Clara looked much like the older woman we left behind in the hallway. I decided they must be sisters.

Without a word, Clara led us deeper into the house. I noticed there wasn’t a single source of light apart from the windows. I was beginning to think that coming here had been a mistake when Clara suddenly stopped in front of a door apparently chosen at random.

‘Please wait in here.’ Clara opened the door and paused just long enough for us to step inside before closing it behind us and walking away.

‘I–I don’t know what to say,’ Willie said. I knew exactly what he meant.

The room Clara had left us in was as dark as the rest of the house we’d seen so far, despite the three lit candles standing in the middle of a circular table that had been placed in the centre of the room. The table and the chairs around it were the only furniture. The empty fireplace threw flickering shadows onto the wine-coloured wallpaper, making it look as if the room itself was engulfed in black smoke. The floor beneath me squeaked as I made my way over to one of the chairs.

‘We might as well sit while we wait,’ I said. My voice sounded braver than I felt.

Henley and Willie followed me to the table. Henley took his seat next to me and Willie next to him. Countless minutes passed before Miss Jones appeared. She took her time walking around the table and finally sat directly across from me.

‘You.’ The woman eyed me again. ‘You are different. I know. Tu scies numquam finem.’

I felt a chill go through me though I had no idea what those words meant.

‘I am ready, Dorothy,’ Clara said as she entered the room. She took the remaining seat between Miss Jones and Willie.

‘Let us talk to the ones who have passed,’ Miss Jones said. She took Clara’s hand, and Willie’s, and motioned to me to do the same with Henley and Clara. ‘Do not break the circle,’ she warned and blew out one of the candles. ‘Is there a spirit here among us?’