The Seventh Miss Hatfield (19 page)

‘You have no idea how grateful I am for your cleverness, and your incredible defence of me. I’m quite stunned, I must say. I thought you’d begun to hate me and would surely help your father throw me to the wolves.’ It was true. I had believed I’d be going back to the real Miss Hatfield empty-handed, having failed miserably. The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach had intensified during my confrontation with Mr Beauford, but it had dissipated as I listened to Henley spin his fantastic tale on my behalf. In fact, at this particular moment, I felt quite alive and present. My friend and I were talking again, and that made my heart rejoice.

Henley cleared his throat and sat up straighter, taking his feet off the ottoman and placing them flat on the ground. He leaned forwards, elbows resting upon his knees, and peered intently at me. ‘Yes, well, not even wolves are deserving of such a mysterious personage as yourself, Miss Rebecca Hatfield. Do you trust me enough, at long last, to tell me more about why you’re here, if not about yourself?’ He wouldn’t break his gaze, so I had to be the one to look away. I stood up and walked towards the window, speaking softly but at a volume I knew he would hear.

‘I do trust you, indeed, dear Henley. No one has ever been kinder to me, or more protective of me, that I can recall. And such goodwill from someone who really knows nothing about me. I—’

He stopped me by touching my elbow, very gently. He’d followed me to the window so as not to miss anything I might at this point be willing to share with him. I still didn’t turn around; I didn’t trust myself to look at him just yet.

Continuing to stare out of the window, I decided to throw caution to the wind and tell him almost everything, with the exception of the part about me being immortal and from another age. If I threw that into the mix, he’d probably take me for a raving lunatic. I could only hope that he’d accept the rest of my story. ‘The real reason I came to your house in the first place was to steal the painting – the painting that now hangs behind your father’s desk in his study … And, Henley, my mission hasn’t altered. I must still take the painting, but I need to accomplish even more now, I’m afraid.’

Finally, I turned to face him, since he hadn’t interrupted me yet. I wasn’t sure what to expect – would he now throw me out, or …?

‘Can you tell me who has commissioned you to steal that pitiful old painting? It’s not as if you or they are likely to get much for it. It’s not even by a famous artist.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, I surely owe you that much. The painting belongs to a close friend of mine. She needs it back. She tried to outbid your father for it at an auction earlier this year, but she didn’t have sufficient funds. It was taken away from her and mistakenly placed in that auction. That’s all I can tell you about it, I’m afraid.’

‘Mmm. I see. More and more curious, Miss Hatfield. I—’

‘Henley?’ I interrupted. ‘Could you please call me Rebecca? “Miss Hatfield” makes me think you’re addressing … well, my mother.’ We both smiled at that, and I could feel our friendship slowly but surely rebuilding.

‘All right then, Rebecca, but only in private. God knows what my father and the servants might think if they were to overhear us calling each other by our first names.’ He took a second to wink at me, but soon his face turned grave again. ‘And what’s this other problem that’s now compounded the complexity of your mission?’

I wasn’t quite sure where to begin with the next part. I was astonished he was even still listening to me! But I knew I had to try, so I launched forward. ‘You’re aware that your father has become obsessed with learning about things such as the Fountain of Youth, the possibility of … immortality.’

His response confounded me further, for it was one of those rare, deep, genuine belly laughs of his. His eyes even teared up a bit, he laughed so hard; he had to wipe them before he could catch his breath and speak. ‘Aware of that old man’s fixation? Painfully aware, yes. He’s disturbed. Deranged, even. You remember that chase we had in the park? Poor Willie, running after all of us.’ He laughed more darkly then. ‘I’ve even discussed it with a psychiatric doctor in town, for I feared Father was going insane when I first learned about all this. But after he met with Father a few times, he assured me he was simply deluded; that this had become a hobby, as the old gentleman – my father! – was winding down his life. The psychiatrist said it gave him something to think about and, in a sense, to live for. So while I believe it’s utter nonsense and a complete waste of time, it gives Father something to look forward to. We simply have an agreement not to discuss it. I keep a close eye on him, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, or make sure the servants do when I’m unavailable.’ He paused for a moment as another thought crossed his countenance. ‘He’s growing weaker physically, though. That’s painfully apparent after his episode this morning.’

I felt horrible. ‘I’m so sorry to have instigated that, Henley. If there’s anything I can do—’

He held his hand up in a gesture of dismissal. ‘You didn’t make him ill, Rebecca. Old age has done that. Don’t blame yourself in any way, I beg you. You and I should have talked all this through sooner, and simply presented the story to him earlier, so it wouldn’t have come as such a shock.’ He looked down at me, his eyes and smile warm and friendly. ‘So, please continue – what’s the other portion of this mission of yours?’

‘Well, as strange as it sounds, I’ve been instructed to … do away with his curios, the ones that have to do with this delusional belief in immortality. His maps, diaries, some vials that he apparently has in the study …’ I made the sentence more of a question than a statement, hoping he’d know what I was referring to.

He did. ‘Ah, yes – the vials in his wardrobe. Incredibly strange collection of what looks to me to be nothing more than water of various shades – some dirty, some clean – but with strange names labelling each vial.’ He looked down at me again, a question in those dark eyes of his now. ‘Do away?’ He repeated my words. ‘You mean destroy?’

I nodded.

‘But who wants you to do this, and to what end? As I told you, these things have kept him going, in a way. If he’s deprived of them, I’m afraid he’ll slide downhill even more quickly.’

I shook my head, for I really believed what I was about to say next. ‘No, Henley, I think it could actually help him get better. The friend who has commissioned me to do this—’

‘The same one who wants her painting back?’ he enquired.

‘Yes, the very same. Well, she’s seen …’ I caught myself before I made what would have been a huge error of judgement. ‘She’s heard tales of many of her ancestors going mad pursuing exactly the same path your father’s on right now. He may be shocked at first, Henley, but in the long run, it’ll probably be best for him not to dabble in matters that can never end well.’

‘I see,’ he said, and his tone told me he agreed with me. ‘But wait – you just said “for
him
” – surely you don’t believe that anyone can become immortal?’ His voice was incredulous. Not wishing to lie to him any more, I thought of a response that wasn’t exactly a lie – an honest answer, if a partial one.

I laughed very lightly. ‘Oh, no, I don’t believe immortality is possible for anyone,’ I replied. I merely added in my mind the words but it is for me.

Henley looked sufficiently reassured and nodded to himself. ‘Destroy his obsession and whisk away the painting.’

‘Yes.’

He stood up and clapped his hands together, rubbing the palms against each other briskly. ‘Very well, then. When do we begin?’

I felt my eyes grow wide and my jaw drop slightly in disbelief. ‘Are you telling me that you plan to help me in this? After everything you’ve already done for me?’

‘Mm-hmm. You are precisely correct in your deduction,’ he responded, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial tone. ‘Let us continue our planning later today, for the servants are sure to take note that a very beautiful young woman who isn’t my relation – any more, at least – has been in my bedroom with the door closed for nearly an hour now. And they do talk, Lord love ’em.’ He chuckled, having grown accustomed to servants’ gossip from a lifetime of being around it. I was starting to understand why he was occasionally dismissive with some of the staff. There was a bit of a love-hate relationship going on, and it affected some more than others.

‘Yes, you’re quite right,’ I agreed. ‘Impropriety must not be our downfall. If we can meet by the mill this afternoon, say around three, we can cook up a plan, I’m sure. I must carry out this mission right away – in the next two or three days, if at all possible.’

He walked with me to the door. ‘Good idea. I’ll ride Jasper, and you take one of the faster horses – you’ve become quite the equestrian lately, so I hear.’ His eyes twinkled as I blushed. ‘You think I haven’t asked Wellesley what you’re up to when you’re out there with the horses? He told me you have natural talent and you’re learning fast. I’m pleased.’ He squeezed my elbow to show me his approval.

As he opened the door, I curtsied, just in case the walls with ears and eyes might be observing. ‘Very well, I’ll see you then. I do believe I’ll go for a ride now, and think through what I shall write next about Mr Beauford.’

We walked down the main stairs together. I continued towards the front door, but he kept pace with me, determined to be the one to open it.

‘As you wish,’ he said gallantly, and opened the door. Much to our mutual surprise, there were two young women standing right outside, the elder one poised to knock.

She started at the sight of Henley, then again when she registered my presence, looking me up and down thoroughly. ‘Why, Mr Henley, I do declare, you gave me a fright.’ She curtsied, and blushed, while her younger companion rolled her eyes slightly at this display.

Henley recovered his composure and extended his hand to the beautiful older girl. ‘So nice to see you, Miss Christine,’ he said politely. Then he turned to the younger, paler girl, who looked to be about eleven, but might have been older. ‘Miss Eliza, how are you these days?’ he enquired. I noticed Eliza was leaning on a walking stick held at her side. When I looked at her gentle face, I realized she had the steady, unfocused gaze of someone who was blind.

Eliza attempted a slight curtsey, but nearly lost her balance in the process. She looked very pale and weak, and I took her arm to lead her to the parlour. ‘Why don’t you come with me, Miss Eliza? I believe you might benefit from sitting down for a spell. My name is Rebecca, by the way.’

I heard Henley cough with embarrassment behind us as he escorted the older girl in. ‘Oh, my goodness, where are my manners? Miss Rebecca Hatfield, this is Miss Christine Porter and her younger sister, Miss Eliza. They are long-time friends of my family. And I’m glad to see you both,’ he added quickly. ‘What an unexpected pleasure. To what do we owe this visit?’ he politely asked.

Christine huffed, ‘Didn’t your father tell you? We’ve come to spend a fortnight with you, to try and build up poor Eliza’s health. I do hope it won’t be an inconveni- ence?’ she asked, looking rather pointedly in my direction. I detected a slight Southern accent from this gorgeous blue-eyed, blonde-haired belle, although I was half sure she was putting it on.

Henley smoothed things over quickly, as he was wont to do. ‘Good gracious, not at all, Christine, not in the least. I do hope our healthy country air gives you strength and fortifies your spirits, Miss Eliza,’ he said, making a full bow to the younger girl regardless of her blindness, who was now seated in the same chair Mr Beauford had collapsed into earlier that morning. Henley took her hand and kissed it in a courtly manner, which embarrassed and delighted young Eliza at the same time. It was sweet how Henley treated her, I thought. Then I looked over just in time to see Christine’s eyes burning two holes right through me. Obviously I’d upset some plan of hers, and I knew the arrival of the two sisters was undoubtedly going to complicate mine.

When I returned from my ride, I managed to sneak up to my room without running into anyone, which had been my intention. Naturally, my plan to meet with Henley at the mill had been thwarted by the arrival of the Porter sisters, but I still wanted my ride. I jumped on Thunder, the fastest horse in the stable, clucked to him and gave him his head. We roared down the path for about three miles before he slowed down. The breeze rushing over me was exactly what I needed. It made me feel very present in my body and helped me release my worries about what was going to happen next, if only for a little while. When we returned, I rubbed him down myself, which always amused Wellesley.

‘You’re the first young lady I’ve ever known who enjoys tending to the horses so much,’ he’d remarked a few days earlier.

‘They deserve to be treated well for their service,’ I replied as I brushed Thunder down carefully but thoroughly. I followed that up with a fresh bucket of oats. Logic had taught me that the first thing the horses needed after riding was a good long drink of water from the trough in front of the stables. Then I led them into their stall and wiped them down and brushed them, talking softly to them all the while. The routine ended with a bucket of oats, and a carrot or an apple for a special treat. I felt as if I’d been riding all my life, and in a sense, in this new life, which was mine now, I pretty much had.

Back in my room, as I allowed the warm water from the bowl on my dresser to cleanse and refresh me, I thought a bit more about Eliza – a pretty girl in her own way, but much plainer than her elder sister. She was pale as porcel- ain, but with an almost faded look to her skin, and her dark hair was rather severely pinned back. Her opaque, grey eyes still held a flicker of intelligence, and she could certainly roll them easily enough when she was fed up with her sister! She presented a complete contrast to Christine, with her radiant, flawless skin, her silky blonde curls and her bright azure eyes. She was a beauty, to be sure, and from the way she’d batted her eyelashes at Henley, I had a pretty good notion what her intentions towards him were.

It doesn’t matter, I told myself firmly. Henley and I can never be together in that way; we’re friends, and he’s helping me under extraordinary circumstances, far above and beyond the call of duty. I was brushing my hair rather brusquely while having this little self-talk when in walked Nellie.

‘Oh, begging your pardon, Miss Rebecca …’ she faltered. ‘I would have knocked, but I didn’t know you’d returned from your ride.’ She stood by the door, awaiting my permission to come in.

I beckoned her by crooking a finger towards her. ‘Do come on in, Nellie, don’t be shy. You’ve seen me in my undergarments many a time now, and just because my name’s changed, nothing else has.’ I smiled up at her as she took the brush from my hand. I was thankful to allow her to finish brushing my hair more gently than I’d begun, and she always did a better job of pinning it up than I could. She brought five silver-coloured pins out of her apron pocket.

‘Hannah sent you these, miss,’ she quietly informed me as she laid them on the bureau. ‘Would you like me to use them to fix your hair today?’

‘Oh, yes, please, Nellie. I rather prefer them to the bulkier bronze pins.’ I couldn’t tell her why I’d really wanted the thin ones. It didn’t matter any more, since I’d enlisted Henley’s help. Picking locks would no longer be necessary, and I was greatly relieved, for a potential life of crime didn’t exactly suit me. It was one thing to fabricate stories, but quite another to steal. Yet I knew I must take the painting and destroy the other artefacts, according to Miss Hatfield’s instructions. I would simply have to observe the Porter sisters for a day or so, and find a way to meet with Henley to plan our next move.

Once I was groomed and dressed to Nellie’s satisfaction, I laughed and turned to thank her. ‘I’m so grateful you’re here with me, Nellie. You take such good care of me, helping me groom and dress. It’s rather like what goes around, comes around.’ I smiled.

‘Beg pardon, Miss Rebecca?’ she asked in confusion.

‘Well, you see, I enjoy grooming and attending to the horses’ needs, and then I come inside, and you return the favour.’ She laughed as she caught my meaning. ‘But what can I do for you in exchange, Nellie?’ I really wanted to help improve her life in whatever way I could, at least for the brief time I was to be a part of it. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt a strong connection to her, Hannah and Henley. The rest of the people there were nice enough, yet I didn’t truly want to know more about them. Nellie had touched me in some way when we first met, and I cared about what might happen to her once I had to move on.

‘Why, you’ve already done a tremendous amount for me, miss,’ she replied. ‘I’d never been allowed to come out here to the country before, and I far prefer it to the city, actually. I’ve made friends here, and I never felt that any of the staff in the city were my friends.’ She looked wistful, then smiled brightly at me. ‘So you see, you’ve done a great deal for me already, and I’m truly grateful. Thank you, Miss Rebecca.’ She curtsied, and was about to leave.

‘That’s a small thing, Nellie, and I’m glad to have done it. One last question before you go – have you seen young Miss Eliza recently?’

‘Oh, yes, miss. She’s down in the parlour, listening to some music on the Victrola. She seems to love classical music. She’s sitting there in the master’s big old chair, with the most peaceful smile on her face as she listens … I believe she said it was a recording of Mr Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. It’s quite pretty,’ she added.

‘Thank you, Nellie.’ I had a distant memory of Cynthia hearing someone whistling a tune they called ‘Beethoven’. ‘Yes, Beethoven’s music is exquisite, I quite agree. I think I’ll go and talk with Eliza for a while before dinner. And what of Mr Henley and Miss Christine? Do you happen to know their whereabouts?’

She nodded. ‘I believe they went for a drive, miss. I think Miss Christine mentioned something about needing a few things from the dry-goods store.’

‘I assume the c–automobile has been retrieved and fixed, then.’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Excellent. Thank you, Nellie. I appreciate you keeping your eyes and ears open for me. I miss out on quite a lot when I’m off on my jaunts on horseback, but I do enjoy my rides so.’ She smiled in understanding and vanished down the hallway.

I looked around my beautiful room until my eyes lit on a small bottle of rose water. It had a very light, pleasant scent, and I thought perhaps Eliza would enjoy it. I vaguely recalled Cynthia learning something about blind people’s other senses being heightened, so on a whim I decided to take it with me and offer it to her.

I heard the final strains of what I assumed to be Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony floating majestically up the stairway, and then the bumping of the Victrola’s needle that indicated it had reached the end of the disc. I hurried in when I saw Eliza struggling to get up to turn it off. ‘Allow me. Please, stay seated,’ I said gently as I passed her. When she flounced back down, obviously irritated, it occurred to me that she’d probably been treated as an invalid for many years, and understandably had grown to resent it. I made a mental note to let her be as independent as possible in our future encounters.

I pulled up a chair to sit beside Eliza. ‘Do you mind if I join you? Would I bore you too much if we chatted for a bit?’ I asked politely. It was gratifying to see a nice smile brighten up her face.

‘Why, no, not at all, Miss Rebecca. I should enjoy that immensely. What sorts of things do you enjoy conversing about?’ she enquired. I could sense that not too many people sought out her company, and that she was excited at the prospect of a good talk.

‘Whatever would suit you, Eliza,’ I replied. ‘And please drop the “Miss” – it’s simply Rebecca, all right?’

She nodded, again appearing quite happy to be the centre of someone’s attention, even a stranger’s. My heart went out to her, but I was determined not to allow her to sense any pity from me. ‘Well, let’s see,’ she said. ‘I enjoy talking about philosophy, sometimes about politics, but not too much. I really love discussing literature!’ she enthused.

‘Is that so? Who are some of your favourite authors?’ I wasn’t about to be impolite and ask if someone read to her, or if she had read prior to losing her eyesight. Once she knew me better, perhaps I’d be able to gently find out those answers. But for now, I simply wished to befriend her, and let her have a confidante. I must admit, I also knew that learning more about Eliza and her sister would enable me to carry out my plan without raising their suspicions. But mainly, I already admired Eliza and instinctively knew she had virtually nothing in common with her sister Christine.

‘Oh, I quite like Dickens, particularly A Tale of Two Cities,’ she said. ‘I found Sydney Carton so romantic. I’m also very fond of Jane Austen, Mark Twain and Ralph Waldo Emerson.’

‘My goodness, your tastes are diverse, I must say! Those are all excellent authors.’ I’d heard all the names before – or rather, Cynthia had – but I didn’t recall her reading much, if anything, by those authors. After all, Cynthia was only … quite young when …

I took a deep breath, realizing I’d forgotten how old Cynthia was when all this happened. I remembered that she was young, but was she twelve, ten, or even younger? My failure to remember worried me a little, but by now I’d accepted my strange new life. Then that all faded away, and I refocused my full attention on Eliza. Since I didn’t know much about the plots of any of the books she was so excited about, I asked her to tell me all about her favourites. I received quite an education in the parlour that afternoon, for once Eliza was off and running there was no stopping her.

This young woman was quite well educated, and I could tell she’d consciously worked to drop – or at least modify – her Southern accent, whereas her sister capitalized on her dulcet tones to the maximum. I assumed Christine had made a study of how many men simply melted at the sound of a genteel accent from the South and worked it to her advantage. I doubted Henley would fall prey to it, but one could never tell. She was so very beautiful that I couldn’t blame him if he found her attractive. What man wouldn’t?

At any rate, without my needing to probe for the answers to some of my unanswered questions, Eliza disclosed that she was actually just a couple of years younger than Christine, though she was small for her age. She’d been sickly from the time she was born and had lost her eyesight completely when she was about nine years old.

‘I don’t mean to be indelicate, but what caused you to go blind?’ I asked gently.

‘Oh, I don’t mind you asking. It feels to me like such a long time ago,’ she replied. It was clear she was absolutely thrilled to have someone with whom to talk. ‘I had scarlet fever and nearly died. I survived, happily, but my eyesight didn’t. I’m grateful to the Lord above for sparing my life. My blindness has actually taught me quite a lot,’ she added fervently. I saw that this young woman’s faith was a large part of how she got through life.

Just then, the grandfather clock in the hall struck six. ‘Where on earth did the day go?’ I mused. ‘Have you been told dinner is at eight? Is there anything you’d care to do for the next couple of hours? Perhaps take a short nap, or go for a walk—’

At that suggestion, she nearly jumped up out of the chair. ‘Oh, Rebecca, would you take me for a little walk? I should love that. After all, I am supposed to breathe in as much of this countrified air as possible while we’re here. And I quite enjoy talking with you,’ she added shyly.

‘We absolutely shall and must walk, then, I insist,’ I replied. Determined to give her the independence I knew she so valued, I teased her just a bit, to see how she would respond. ‘Up with you then, young lazy bones, and let us away to stroll the grounds!’ I made my voice quite animated, and realized I was copying the way Henley did this sort of thing, to let her hear that I was joshing and actually in a good humour. She picked up on it right away, giggled slightly and easily got to her feet, grabbing her stick and heading towards the door before I could even take her arm.

I opened the door, asked her permission to take her free arm, and we made our way down the front steps. We walked towards the left, where the path led through a lovely grove of pine and evergreen trees. I thought Eliza would enjoy their scent, and she commented on it right away. We strolled and chatted for about an hour, fast becoming friends. This pleased me, as I noticed her features begin to light up the more we talked. She continued telling me about some of the wonderful books she treasured so much, which her tutor had read to her since she went blind. She talked about God’s mercy, grace and love, and I didn’t quite know how to respond. Her show of faith was admirable, but I couldn’t exactly wrap my mind around how she’d cultivated it, given that her sight had been stolen from her. She was in such good humour, however, that I decided to save some of those heavier questions for another time.

Just as we completed the circle through the grove and were heading back to the house, Henley and Christine drove up and parked in the driveway. Henley jumped out immediately and rushed over to us, leaving Christine to sit impatiently in the car. It was obvious she was miffed that he hadn’t helped her out before coming over to talk with us.