The Seventh Miss Hatfield

by Anna Caltabiano

  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 li
ght 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?’

  Almost a second later, the remaining two candles snuffed themselves out.

  In the dark, Clara’s hand felt small and lost in mine. I was surprised when she was the one who answered.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘Good, and who are you?’ Miss Jones asked. ‘Do you want to introduce yourself to us?’

  ‘Yes,’ Clara said again, but this time her voice came out stronger. ‘I am Henley. Henley Beauford.’

  I felt Henley’s hand jerk in my own. My throat constricted and I struggled to breathe.

  Miss Jones went on, ‘Why are you here, Mr Beauford?’

  ‘I am here to tell her something.’

  In the dark I couldn’t tell whether Clara was facing me or not, but somehow I knew she was talking about me.

  ‘What do you want to tell her?’

  ‘I want—’ Clara’s voice was like a child’s again. ‘I want to tell her that I know.’

  ‘What do you know, Mr Beauford?’

  There was a thud and I felt something hit the table.

  ‘Clara? Clara!’ It was Willie’s voice. ‘Someone, do something!’

  Miss Jones lit the candles in a hurry. I saw her hands shaking, but couldn’t make myself move to help her.

  Clara’s head was down on the table, her hair hiding her face. When Miss Jones gently raised her head, I saw blood on Clara’s cheek.

  ‘Call the physician.’ Willie stood up in such a hurry that he knocked over his chair.

  Clara giggled. ‘Why would you do that? I feel fine.’ She laughed again.

  Miss Jones’s face was pale in the candlelight.

  ‘Out!’ Miss Jones screamed. ‘Get out!’ She then glared directly at me. ‘You do the Devil’s work.’

  Henley pulled me to my feet and dragged me from the room, along the hallway and then into the street. Once in the open air, I was able to breathe again.

  ‘They’re insane!’ Willie said as we stumbled to our carriage. ‘Absolute lunatics! And they thought you were dead.’

  Henley grimaced at Willie’s last sentence.

  ‘You know, they probably just pulled that name out of the newspaper,’ Willie said. ‘Everyone knows your father, and everyone knows he has a son.’ He patted Henley’s back. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

  Henley agreed, but I knew he was still troubled.

  We ended up giving up on boating.

  On the ride back, Willie talked with Henley about Mary and his family, and about going home. It was obvious he missed his sister more than he would have liked to let on. I left them to reminisce about old times while I puzzled over what Miss Jones had said to me. I just couldn’t get her words out of my head. Tu scies numquam finem.

  ‘What did Miss Jones mean?’ I asked them suddenly. I’d interrupted whatever Henley and Willie were talking about, but I couldn’t help it. I had to know.

  Willie waved me off. ‘She just isn’t the best reader. She probably thought she’d read Henley’s name in the obituary section of the newspaper.’

  Even Henley laughed at that.

  ‘I mean before that. It was in another language. Latin, I think.’

  ‘Tu scies numquam finem,’ Henley said. ‘You will never know the end.’

  ‘God only knows what she meant,’ Willie muttered, but soon he and Henley fell back into comfortable conversation.

  You will never know the end. I shuddered at the thought that she might have known exactly what I was.

  Chapter 12

  ‘Miss?’ I heard something murmuring near my face and my delayed hand reached up to swat at it. ‘Miss?’ This time it sounded more insistent and roused me from my half-sleep. ‘Miss.’

  I blinked open my eyes to see Nellie’s face, close to mine.

  ‘Good, you’re finally awake,’ she said. ‘Mr Beauford just left for the country and you’re running a bit late.’

  ‘I’m late?’ I exclaimed, suddenly fully awake. ‘When are we leaving?’

  ‘In a few minutes.’

  ‘A few minutes?’ I was now sitting up in bed. ‘And you let me sleep in?’

  ‘I’m sorry – it wasn’t my place, I know, but you looked so tired last night, miss.’ Her eyes were downcast, and I knew I couldn’t be mad at her. It was my own fault anyway, given how I’d spent the night before.

  I saw that Nellie had already laid out a dress for me. ‘I hope you like it,’ she said.

  Nellie helped me dress, drawing the laces as tight as Miss Hatfield had. I rushed downstairs, grabbing the hat that Nellie threw at me. Henley was already waiting at the door.

  ‘Took you long enough,’ he said, his eyes gleaming. ‘My father just left in the carriage with Father Gabriel. We’ll be taking the automobile.’

  It was hard not to laugh at someone as young as Henley calling a car an ‘automobile’, but then I wasn’t in 1954 any more.

  ‘And Willie?’ I asked. ‘Did he leave for home already?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. He left last night.’

  I felt a pang inside me when I realized I’d never see him again.

  Henley led me outside to something that looked more like a carriage than any car I’d ever seen. It truly was a horseless carriage, and in its way, it was a wonder for both of us – to me because of its antiquity, and to Henley because of its modernity.

  Henley helped me up into the passenger seat next to him. Then he took his seat behind the wheel and the engine roared to life, humming beneath us with the same excitement we felt.

  ‘This will be my first time seeing the countryside in this area,’ I mused aloud.

  ‘Riding in an automobile really does open your eyes to new things, doesn’t it?’ Henley laughed. ‘Here, wear these.’ He passed me goggles then put on his own. I held my pair up uncertainly. ‘You look suspicious,’ Henley said.

  ‘I think I have reason to be.’ I waved the goggles at him.

  ‘I guess I know one more thing about you now.’ I looked up in surprise, wondering what secret I’d just revealed. ‘You’ve never ridden in an automobile before, have you?’

  I couldn’t help but laugh. I nodded. It was true, I’d never ridden in an automobile before, but if he’d asked if I’d ever ridden in a car, I might have said yes.

  ‘You’re very mysterious,’ Henley went on. �
��You know so much about me already and I still know almost nothing about you.’

  ‘Well, now you know I’ve never ridden in an automobile before,’ I pointed out. He chuckled at that, but his voice grew downright serious.

  ‘You know things that even people close to me don’t,’ he said. ‘I–I told you about my mother … I don’t talk about her, usually.’

  I smiled politely as if I had no idea what he was talking about, but we both knew. I felt so comfortable with him near me. True, he knew almost nothing about me, yet at the same time he knew the most important thing about me. He didn’t know my name, but he knew how I felt.

  ‘So I think it’s only fair that you tell me a little about yourself.’

  I gulped inwardly, waiting for him to ask me my real name. Like Henley said, his request for information was only fair.

  ‘Since I’ve told you about my parents and you’ve met my father, what are yours like?’

  ‘They’re like any ordinary parents, I guess.’

  ‘No two sets of parents are ordinary. What’s your mother like?’ Henley’s eyes flickered back and forth between me to the road.

  ‘My mother …’ I started. ‘She fusses around with her hair, and when she’s finally satisfied with it, she fusses around with mine.’ I smiled at the image that brought up in my mind. Whenever I thought of my mother, I thought of her tucking me into bed with curlers in her hair. ‘She has gentle hands – slightly cool to the touch. She stroked my hair as I fell asleep … when I was little,’ I was quick to add. I hadn’t realized I’d slipped into the past tense.

  ‘And what about your father?’ Henley looked genuinely curious.

  ‘My father’s a straightforward kind of man. He never beats around the bush. If he had something on his mind, he’d say it.’ I laughed. ‘Tact was never something he learned.’ I thought back to the last time I’d seen him. He was dressed in my favourite suit – the light brown one with the matching hat that made his eyes look warmer – and he was off to work. I wish I’d got to say goodbye.

  ‘He sounds like an honest man.’

  ‘He was – is,’ I corrected myself.