The Seventh Miss Hatfield

by Anna Caltabiano

  ‘Used to,’ he was quick to say. I knew he saw my brow furrow when he started explaining. ‘My mother … my mother passed away.’

  I was mortified. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I never should have brought her up … I should have realized when you didn’t mention her—’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Henley said. ‘She passed away when I was still a baby. I don’t even remember her. All I know of her, my father told me.’

  ‘It must have been difficult growing up without a mother.’

  ‘In some sense it was, but I never knew what I was missing.’ He tried to gloss over it lightly, but his voice was strained. ‘When I was younger, still a little boy, I rarely saw other boys’ mothers – their governesses usually accompanied them. But when I did see their mothers, all they ever did was pat their boys’ heads and tell them to be good. I never thought I was missing out on much as my father did the same thing to me. I never knew how it felt to have a mother.’

  I nodded. ‘What was your father like?’

  ‘The same as he is now,’ said Henley with a laugh. ‘My father was older than my friends’ fathers, so we never did anything the other boys did with theirs. Not once would he play ball with me; he just told me to go and work on my Latin exercises with my tutor, and that’s precisely what I did.’

  ‘So you were never close to your father?’

  ‘Not in the sense you mean, no. We never did anything together. I learned to prefer solitude.’

  A chuckle escaped my lips and he raised his brows at me. ‘You prefer to keep to yourself, yet here you are helping a stranger,’ I explained, not wanting him to think I was laughing at his childhood.

  ‘You’re not a stranger,’ he said, and it was my turn to raise my brows at him. ‘Of course not – you’re my cousin.’ He smiled his devilish grin and I had to laugh along with him again. But then his face turned serious. ‘I–I have a question I must ask you.’

  ‘What is it?’ I feared the worst.

  ‘Are you going to eat that?’ He pointed to the remaining ice cream which was slowly melting, as was his serious demeanour. I pushed the bowl towards him as his counten- ance cracked and a smile escaped again. The smile made its way to his eyes, and it was contagious. A smile spread across my face, too. I couldn’t help it.

  Chapter 9

  I listened to Henley’s laugh echo off the pavement, and mine soon rang with it. ‘And after that, Miss Wetherby swore never to gossip again … Though she never did hold true to that promise!’

  We were taking an aimless walk around some of the more obscure parts of the city. The streets were narrow and deserted save for the occasional person hurrying to their destination. No one paid us any mind.

  ‘Oh, look at that.’ I pointed to a rainbow of colours cast on the pavement in front of us from a store window.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I heard him murmur.

  We followed the streaks of coloured light back through the store window to a single ring. It was breathtaking. As the setting sun struck its facets, it basked in an unearthly glow. Shards of light played off one another and flung themselves onto any surface they could find. The band was silvery. White gold, maybe? Sterling silver? Platinum? But the gem in the middle, flanked by two small diamonds, was what caught my eye. It was an astounding blue, as bright as the ocean’s surface; it sparkled with the vivid light of a million stars trapped inside.

  ‘It’s the colour of your eyes,’ I said automatically. Henley’s eyes crinkled, as he burst out laughing.

  As I realized what I’d just said, I felt a warmth rise up my cheeks and I looked down, embarrassed.

  ‘Do you want it?’ he asked, after a moment of thoughtful silence.

  ‘Oh, no. You’re not going to buy me that. You’ve already spent far too much money on a perfect stranger.’

  ‘That’s not what I asked,’ he said. ‘Do you want it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You know, you’re not a convincing liar.’

  ‘I’m a stranger to you. You wouldn’t know if I was telling the truth or not.’

  ‘You’re not a stranger any more, and I already know you well enough to tell that you’re lying. You do want the ring.’ Henley marched into the shop with me chasing after him, right on his heels.

  ‘May I see the ring in the window?’ he asked the store clerk, who promptly brought it out.

  ‘Is this for your fiancée?’ the clerk asked, looking towards me, but Henley didn’t bother to correct him.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Henley asked me, slipping it onto the ring finger of my right hand. It fitted perfectly, which both frightened and delighted me. ‘I’ll take it,’ he said, after looking at my face for a considerable amount of time.

  ‘You can’t,’ I said. ‘You’ve already bought me a whole wardrobe and an entire hat store. This ring must cost a fortune, and I’m not going to let you spend that kind of money on me.’

  ‘It’s a gift,’ he said again, just as he had about the dresses and the hats.

  ‘Well, I’m tired of your gifts. I’ve accepted my fair share of them today. You are not getting me that ring.’

  ‘All those gifts were from my family to you, my dear cousin. This gift will be from me.’

  ‘I can think of a better gift you could give me.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘The gift of not buying me that ring.’ I wondered if he’d agree to that, or laugh at it, thinking it nonsensical.

  ‘Would you like that more than any of the other gifts you’ve received?’

  ‘Yes.’ My answer was an honest one.

  ‘Then I guess I won’t be taking it,’ Henley said to the clerk, who had been painstakingly wrapping the small ring into a slightly larger box.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the clerk said, as if he was used to this sort of indecision.

  ‘Thank you for your time,’ Henley said as we left the store.

  ‘I think that was the best gift anyone’s ever given me,’ I told him, earning myself a grin.

  ‘I’m glad you liked it so much. It’s a unique gift, isn’t it?’

  I agreed. ‘Does that mean we can go back now?’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  We returned to the carriage. As we climbed aboard, I realized I was finding it easier to navigate my skirts and layers, now that I’d had a little more practice. With a knock on the side of the carriage from Henley, we were once again rocked into heavy motion. Oddly, I now found the horse’s steps comforting, beating out a familiar pattern.

  Conversation in the coach was small talk compared to the meaningful conversations we’d been engaged in earlier. Our previous exchanges had been filled with almost-truths that were closer to reality than some truths were themselves. Anything would sound trivial in comparison to that. We arrived at the house after a journey only a few minutes longer than the one which had taken us into the heart of the city.

  A man in traditional black and white livery answered the door immediately. ‘Welcome home, sir,’ he said. He glanced at me and gave a curt nod. ‘Madam.’ His voice didn’t have the slightest hint of emotion, his tone dead and still. ‘Packages have arrived for Miss Beauford,’ he said to Henley as if I wasn’t even in the room. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of telling the porter to place them all in her room.’

  ‘Very well. Thank you, Jim.’

  ‘Sir.’ Jim bowed his head and disappeared.

  ‘Well, he’s not exactly a homey sort of fellow, is he?’ I commented as I watched his retreating back.

  ‘Homey?’ Henley laughed. ‘Jim thinks of duty first.’

  ‘Duty? It’s almost like slave labour.’ I was joking, but the words flew out twisted, and before I could shut my mouth I’d already said them.

  I looked tentatively at Henley, wondering what his reaction would be. His face was smooth, betraying no emotion at all.

  ‘I don’t think the servants would think of it as that,’ he said quietly. His tone changed abruptly. ‘Now, run along to your room and see what the porter bro
ught.’ He shooed me away to my room as he, too, made his way up the stairs.

  I heard rustling even before I opened the door. Nellie was scurrying back and forth between heaps of hats and whatever else was tucked away beneath those heavy box tops. She stopped when she saw me and sank into a deep curtsy before speaking. ‘Miss, your hats and garments have arrived.’

  ‘So I see,’ I mumbled under my breath, forgetting to keep my thoughts to myself. Towers of hats swayed dangerously. Scarves in Nellie’s hands fluttered in the breeze coming through the open window. It looked as though she’d sprouted wings as she skirted from tower to tower, but for some reason the image didn’t amuse me as much as it should have.

  I crossed the floor to the window and caught a glimpse of the brash blue tail of a bird. It was a fleeting sight – not even a second long – but the colour stayed with me. I knew I would never see the same colouring on the same bird in the same way. I would never see beauty in that exact same manner. It only existed in that one fleeting moment, and then that, too, was gone. In a normal life, I felt that blue would have been the thing that would let me continue living. It would have been the first colour I’d see behind my eyelids in the morning, and the last colour I’d see in my mind’s eye at night. That vivid hue would have been the one thing that spurred me forward into life, when nothing else could have moved me. That flash of blue was a symbol for my life: quick yet enduring.

  I reminded myself that my entire so-called life would now be filled with moments like this. It would be comprised of fleeting moments – one life after the other, but I’d never stop being Rebecca Hatfield. I would never die.

  Suddenly I felt robbed of that blueness. Its fleeting beauty was meaningless to me now that my days had no end. I was robbed of death, and in some ways of life as well. That blueness would never be my last thought; the last thought at the end of it all. Instead it would just stay with me, flitting in and out of my dreams and reality until it, too, would be forgotten, as everything else eventually would – my name, my identity and that bold, striking blue that reminded me of how to live.

  I closed the window in a move I wished to be swift, but still a breeze stole into the room. It was so sweet it made me feel alive; something I realized I hadn’t felt in a long time. I closed my eyes to take it in. Its hand reached out to touch mine … but then it vanished, for breezes are as fleeting as birds, life and blueness.

  ‘Miss, you must let me close the window for you next time.’

  ‘Very well,’ I told Nellie, but I asked her to draw the curtains shut. I didn’t want to see another bluebird, another reminder of what had been taken from me.

  I sank onto a portion of the bed that wasn’t covered by boxes and hid my face. I wanted to block out the world around me but found that I couldn’t, however much I tried.

  ‘Miss, do you have any specific instructions regarding what to pack?’

  ‘I don’t really care—’ I saw the appalled look on Nellie’s face. ‘I trust your judgement is all I mean, Nellie. Please, just pack what you think is best.’

  ‘Very well, miss.’

  The only sound in the room was faint rustling as Nellie packed in the corner. I couldn’t help but pay attention to the movement of her hands. They were so precise and sharp. No small movement was wasted. But every so often her hands paused and clasped each other, as if they somehow knew they couldn’t find the support they needed on their own. Those were the times when she glanced up at me. Our eyes would meet briefly, until she dropped her gaze. She looked like she wanted to say something, but, not finding the right words, she remained mute, and each time continued her work with a sense of renewed diligence.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing, miss,’ was her reply, and she didn’t even glance up while saying it.

  ‘If it’s really nothing, what’s that look you keep giving me?’

  ‘I’m sorry, miss, if I gave you a look. I wasn’t intending to.’ Her response was automatic, as if it had been drilled into her from when she was little. It held no emotion and was devoid of anything resembling life, but then she looked at me once more.

  ‘There it is again.’ My words sounded harsher than I’d intended and I apologized to her.

  ‘Please don’t apologize, miss.’

  Seeing I’d put her in an uncomfortable position, I wanted to apologize again, but I held my tongue as that was the thing that had caused the problem in the first place.

  ‘You want to say something to me,’ I said. ‘Please just say it.’

  ‘Miss, I can assure you that you wouldn’t want to hear my thoughts—’

  ‘And that’s where you’re wrong. I do, but how can I if you won’t even voice them?’

  ‘It’s not my place to. My master—’

  ‘I won’t tell if you won’t.’ I was taken aback by what I’d just said. My voice was my mother’s; I sounded exactly like her. Those were the same words she always said to me when she gave me a cookie before dinner. ‘I won’t tell if you won’t.’ But I had to focus on where I was at that precise moment. ‘Please, just be honest with me.’

  I could see Nellie giving in as she sighed. ‘Sorry, miss, I just don’t see any reason for you to be unhappy,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I saw how you looked out through the window. It was as if you’d seen a secret the world keeps from us. Something we’re not meant to know – something so sad …’

  I wondered how Nellie would react if she knew how close to the truth she was, how close she was to the secret the world keeps from its people, one that had changed my life for ever. But I knew I wouldn’t wish that knowledge on anyone.

  ‘Now please, miss, you be frank with me,’ she said. ‘What do you have to be unhappy about?’

  I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t find it in myself to lie to her when she’d told me her thoughts so openly. This time, it was me who didn’t know what to say.

  ‘You have everything one could possibly want – and you’ve always had it,’ she continued. ‘You don’t need to worry about tomorrow like the rest of us do. You can sleep peacefully at night, knowing you’ll have many more tomorrows ahead of you – all happy, and you without a care in the world. But what about us? The ones who don’t have your easy life and money? All we do is wonder what tomorrow will bring. We worry even though we know that none of us can change it. You’re blessed not to have that life.’

  Her words sank into me, hurting like the fragments of truth they were. They cut and stung, leaving untraceable marks on my skin.

  ‘I–I’m sorry, miss.’ Nellie’s voice was small. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn. Please don’t tell my master—’

  ‘No. I needed to hear that. But will you listen to what I have to say in return?’

  She nodded, if a little tentatively.

  ‘I know it may not feel this way to you, but if you have everything one could possibly want and you never know the feeling of lacking, do you ever even notice that you have everything? And if you sleep peacefully every night, do you really know the meaning of the word “peaceful”?’ My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I didn’t want to cry in front of someone I barely knew. I strained my voice even more, because I knew I had to finish. ‘Isn’t the wonder of tomorrow ultimately what prods us along? Without it, won’t we drag our feet, knowing that there will never be an end?’ I looked at Nellie’s face to see tears appearing in her eyes.

  I felt raw and naked, unprotected without something to cover me. My mind – my emotions – were all laid out in front of her. I was painfully exposed under her eyes, but although I was waiting for her to judge me, the words never came.

  A knock at the door startled both of us. My eyes stared straight into Nellie’s panicked ones. Wordlessly, she wiped her eyes dry and turned to answer the door.

  ‘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.