The Seventh Miss Hatfield (9 page)

‘Sir.’

‘May I see Miss Beauford?’ The voice was Henley’s.

Nellie looked to me for an answer and I nodded my approval. Henley came in, leaving Nellie to slip out of the room and quietly shut the door behind her.

A minute passed, and neither of us moved. I sat motionless on my corner of the bed and he froze by the door. He placed his ear to it and after a few seconds of listening proceeded to my side.

‘You can never be too careful with servants,’ he muttered. ‘They never cease to gossip.’

‘I trust her,’ I said, thinking about the moment I’d just shared with her. ‘Will she be coming to the country with us?’

‘You want her there?’ he asked. ‘You do know there will be a handmaid already waiting for you, don’t you?’

‘But can I bring Nellie?’

Henley paused. ‘Why not? You can inform her of the new arrangement tonight.’

‘Thank you.’ I smiled.

Henley just shook his head, a small grin growing on his lips. ‘Most peculiar,’ I heard him murmur as he made to leave the room.

‘Didn’t you have a reason for coming to see me?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Did you have something to tell me?’

‘Oh, no, I was just checking that everything had arrived safely,’ he said as he backed out through the door, closing it as softly as Nellie had.

It suddenly felt odd to be alone in this room. Around Nellie I was Miss Beauford. Around Henley I was a familiar stranger. I wondered who I was to myself. Was I still in some way Cynthia, or was I Miss Rebecca Hatfield?

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I decided that I had to be in the present – wherever that was; and I had to be me – whoever that was. I couldn’t go back home or live someone else’s life. I was stuck here until I could get my hands on the painting, so I might as well make the best of it. I was acutely aware that the only other person in the world who knew exactly what I was going through and how I felt was Miss Hatfield, so I decided to visit her that night and tell her about the changes that must be made to our plan.

After I told Nellie that she would be joining me in the country and sent her off to pack, there was another knock on my door. Remembering after a moment that Nellie had gone, I opened the door myself to see Henley leaning against the wall on the other side of the hallway. He stood up immediately upon seeing me and straightened his back. He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair.

‘Um …’

It was the first time I’d seen Henley unsure of himself. He didn’t look like his normal composed self as I watched him search for words.

‘I–uh … I remembered what I came to ask you earlier.’ Henley looked like an overgrown child as he stared down at his feet. ‘My father asked if you would accompany us for a walk?’ His intonation lifted at the end of the sentence, like a question. When Henley’s eyes met mine, his cheeks were flushed. ‘I just forgot to tell you … Would you like to come? I’d … I’d like it if you could.’

I told him I would love to and hurried to get myself ready. Henley chuckled at my disarray as I grabbed his arm and we darted out of the door to meet Mr Beauford.

As we walked, it wasn’t uncommon for the people we passed to acknowledge Mr Beauford in some way or other. The women nodded politely while the men tipped their hats, calling out greetings. Mr Beauford responded the same way to everyone he met. He simply waved them on about their lives, and that was that.

‘Now tell me, Margaret,’ Mr Beauford said, patting my hand as we strolled through the busy streets and into the park. ‘How’s your mother doing?’

I opened my mouth to say something – I’ve no idea what – but was thankfully interrupted by Henley, who was walking in front of us and spun around on his heel.

‘Oh yes. Margaret was telling me yesterday how well Aunt Emmeline is faring.’ Henley gave me a meaningful look to which Mr Beauford appeared oblivious. ‘Weren’t you?’

‘Do tell,’ Mr Beauford said. ‘How is my dear sister doing?’

‘Well—’

Henley cut me off, trying to relieve me of the burden of having to lie to his father.

‘She’s doing just fine.’

Mr Beauford looked at his son with stern eyes. ‘Let Margaret speak for herself. I want to hear about my sister from her own daughter, not you.’

Henley looked at me with worried eyes.

‘Now, Margaret – how is your mother spending her days? Is she still at it with her hobbies?’

‘I’m afraid she isn’t, Uncle. She’s caught the flu.’

‘Oh my. I should write to her, then,’ Mr Beauford said. Henley looked alarmed, but was hesitant to interrupt again.

‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary,’ I said. ‘I believe Mother almost prefers it – this way she gets some time to rest.’

‘She was never much of the social type,’ he agreed.

‘But when she’s well, she enjoys her needlepoint from time to time and has picked up painting.’ I felt triumphant that I was able to pull this off. To impersonate someone’s niece was one thing, but to lie to a person about their own sister was a completely different matter!

‘I think what Margaret means is that her mother has picked up painting again,’ Henley chimed in once more. He threw me a look as if to say that I shouldn’t be speaking when it wasn’t absolutely necessary, but started laughing when he saw the bewildered look on my face.

‘Yes, yes.’ I glanced at Mr Beauford to see if he’d realized something was amiss, but all he did was pat my hand once more.

‘Henley Beauford?’ a voice said from behind, the words clipped and punctuated with a precise British accent. ‘Is that you?’

All of us turned at once to see a man dressed formally in a frock coat and silk hat. He wore an ascot tie and kid-leather gloves that were the lightest grey I’d ever seen. Their colour was so light that they looked like morning shadows.

‘Willie, whatever are you doing here?’ Henley appeared to know the man well, but nevertheless still offered him a formal, distant handshake.

With a closer look, I saw that the man was no older than Henley. Although his clothes made him look far older than he actually was and his hat cast a wide shadow over his eyes, anyone could see he was a very handsome man.

‘A pleasure to meet you again, Mr Beauford.’ Willie shook Mr Beauford’s hand in turn.

Mr Beauford murmured a quick, ‘How do you do?’

‘What brings you to America?’ Henley asked.

Willie was silent, as if ignoring Henley’s words. His eyes darted from Henley to me and back again in quick shifts. It took me a while to understand why he wasn’t responding, but I realized he was waiting for Henley to introduce me.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Henley said, as if finally catching on. ‘Excuse me. This is my cousin, Margaret. Cousin, this is Willie. We went to school together.’

‘A pleasure to meet you.’ He tipped his hat in my direction as I smiled.

I wondered why he didn’t offer me his hand to shake, as Miss Hatfield had told me this was common courtesy for men as well as women. I decided to ask Henley later, casually, when we were alone.

‘Business, mainly,’ Willie replied to Henley’s question. ‘We just bought a few more factories in the south. I’m to stay in New York one more day before sailing home.’ He paused. ‘How’s the steel business? And how’s your family?’

‘Steel is boring, as usual,’ Henley said. ‘Buying more factories in Georgia, you say?’ I noticed that Henley didn’t really answer Willie’s question. I wondered exactly how involved Henley was in the family business.

‘Well, yes. There was a fire a couple of months ago in which two of our main factories were destroyed. We have to make up for that loss, and the textile business in England is booming …’ Willie paused when he glanced at Mr Beauford and saw his expression. ‘I won’t bore you with the details when you’re obviously out for pleasure.’

‘Nonsense. We have some catching up to do—’ Henley started, but Mr Beauford interrupted him by clearing his throat.

‘I’m sure you do, but I don’t want to bore Margaret with all this talk about business,’ Mr Beauford said.

I had to fight off a smirk as I realized that Mr Beauford was trying to use me to get out of talking with Willie.

‘Why don’t we leave you two to talk and Margaret and I will continue our walk.’ Without waiting for an answer, Mr Beauford took hold of my arm and set off walking at a faster pace than before.

Henley and Willie appeared content to catch up on all the things they’d missed, so neither objected – not that Mr Beauford would’ve listened if they had. Henley threw back his head and laughed, catching my eye as I left with his father. He looked pleased to see me going on ahead rather than talking to his handsome friend. We could no longer hear their excited tones when Mr Beauford finally began to slow down to our original pace.

‘You know, you’re a good influence on Henley.’ Mr Beauford turned to me and was the first to break the silence. ‘You’re helping him see his life in a new way. I don’t think I’ve heard Henley laugh this much since his mother was still alive.’

He stopped and looked straight ahead. I heard him suck in a breath.

‘He was just a baby. He wasn’t ready to lose her. And I wasn’t ready to, either.’

The arm clinging to mine shook with tremors and his whole body began to convulse.

‘Oh God,’ he whispered. ‘Oh God, Ruth.’

Nothing could have prepared me for the sheer strength he exerted to wrench free of my arm, the force of which sent me stumbling backwards. When I regained my balance, Mr Beauford was already out of reach and running down the street as fast as his legs would carry him. He dropped his walking cane and his hat flew off his head, but he didn’t appear to notice.

‘Ruth! Ruth!’ He was screaming at the top of his lungs now and passers-by stopped to look at him.

Mr Beauford shoved aside ladies walking with their lace parasols and knocked over a grocer selling strawberries on the street. I tried to run after him, but after only a few steps I realized that the dress and shoes I was wearing would only hinder my movement. Instead I turned and headed back the way we’d come as fast as I could manage, hoping to get Henley’s attention.

‘Henley!’ The people on the street probably thought I was as mad as Mr Beauford, for they scampered out of my way as I approached Henley and Willie.

Seeing me with half my skirts bunched up in one hand and mud colouring the other half, Henley immediately knew something was wrong.

‘Are you hurt?’ He took me by the shoulders and forced me to look at him. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

When I told him about his father running off yelling, ‘Ruth,’ Henley’s face blanched. He told me to stay where I was, but as soon as he ran off after Mr Beauford, I tried to follow him.

Nothing had ever scared me as much as the look on Henley’s face the moment I told him about his father. He acted in a way I’d never seen before. He didn’t even pause to think before he ran.

My shoes hit the ground in a beat as erratic as my heart. I was only semi-conscious of the hem of my dress ripping as I tripped over it, but at least now I could move faster. Faces blurred past and I couldn’t tell whether it was how fast I was running that made them fuzzy, or the tears that were spilling onto my face.

I didn’t know why I was crying. I felt frightened and nervous – I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I wasn’t sure what was happening.

I didn’t know where I was going, but Henley’s bobbing head in the distance assured me I was still heading in the right direction.

It wasn’t until he slowed down at a gate that I noticed how much my feet ached. My shoes really weren’t meant for this. Nonetheless, I willed myself to go on. If Henley could do it, so could I.

My heart stopped when I saw Mr Beauford kneeling in front of a grave with his head in his hands. Henley was there with him, talking softly and stroking his back.

‘You didn’t mean to do it—’

‘But how does she know that?’ Mr Beauford snapped back at Henley. ‘All she saw was a man chasing her.’

‘But surely she thought you must have mistaken her for someone else.’

‘I could have sworn she was Ruth,’ Mr Beauford muttered to himself, ignoring Henley. ‘She looked like her. She even walked like her. It was only when she turned around …’ Mr Beauford paused, apparently overcome by all that had happened. ‘She wasn’t Ruth.’

‘Ruth … my mother is dead.’ I knew how much it pained Henley to say those words, but I admired what he was prepared to put himself through for his father. ‘She can’t be here. She’s dead.’

‘I–I’m sorry.’ Mr Beauford finally looked up at Henley. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘We should get your uncle home.’ I turned to see Willie standing beside me. He had followed us to the graveyard.

Before I could mutter an assent, Henley nodded. Willie and Henley helped Mr Beauford to his feet. Mr Beauford looked frailer than ever. My gaze was drawn to the shadows and lines that constructed his face, but I could barely make out his eyes, sunken in like caves.

When we arrived home, Henley put his father to bed with Willie’s help. I wanted to go with them, but my feet stopped working in the parlour. I heard Henley tell one of the servants to call the family physician and also the chaplain, since his father refused to see the physician until the chaplain visited his bedside. Father Gabriel came swiftly, as if he’d been awaiting Mr Beauford’s call, and the physician also arrived before long. Shortly after the chaplain left Mr Beauford’s room and the family physician took his place by his bed, both Willie and Henley appeared in the parlour.

It was the first opportunity we’d had since the incident to collect ourselves. Willie’s silk hat was crumpled, while Henley had lost his altogether when he ran. I noticed that Willie’s silver cravat pin was missing and his silk-faced lapels were all creased now. I decided that in the rumpled clothing Willie and Henley now wore, they finally looked their true ages.

Willie took off his coat and plopped down into an armchair.

‘Nothing like chasing people to get your daily dose of fresh air,’ he said.

I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but Henley only stiffened even more. He stood frozen at the door until the butler showed the physician in.

When Henley followed the physician upstairs, Willie turned to me. ‘Good God, I can’t imagine what he’s going through.’

I nodded. ‘Especially as he’s his father’s closest living relative.’

‘Close only in terms of blood …’ Willie trailed off and looked at me intently. ‘But he has you.’

I’d forgotten again that I was supposed to be Henley’s cousin, but Willie’s words grounded me back in my reality.

‘Yes …’

I wondered what Henley would do once I left, for my leaving was inevitable. I’d be gone as though I’d never existed here, and Henley would live on in his time and eventually die. The world would keep existing without him. There would just be an empty space where he once was. It would be the same for him, of course – I would simply vanish.

‘He’s lucky to have you,’ Willie said. ‘I never really understood how much you meant to him.’

I was puzzled by that. I wasn’t sure if Willie had met Henley’s actual cousin, but if he had, surely Willie would have mentioned it when we met.

Willie laughed. ‘We talked about you when we were in school. We talked about our entire families. I knew how distant Henley was – and still is, it would appear – with his father, but I never knew how close you two were. Come to think of it, he didn’t say much about you at all. Just that he had a cousin out of the city, an only child he hadn’t seen since he was younger.’ He smiled at me. ‘He failed to mention how close you are. It’s apparent to anyone who sees you two together. With you he looks …’ Willie tried to find the right word. ‘Alive. His eyes – his whole person – are brighter around you.’

I couldn’t find the words to respond to that, so Willie and I sat in uncomfortable silence. We watched as a servant showed the physician out. The family chaplain went in again, but Henley didn’t return.

‘I’m worried about him.’ It was Willie, again, who started the conversation.

‘I am, too.’

‘Have you seen his father act this way before?’

‘He’s been distant, but I suppose he always is.’ I tried to be tight-lipped with my answer, as I didn’t want to say anything that was untrue. I couldn’t guess how much Willie knew.