‘Thank you, Henley. I’d best be careful about what, exactly?’ I enquired.
He leaned over and examined Bessie’s ears. ‘Well, you certainly don’t talk to me so freely, but I see Bessie has won your confidence,’ he began, still carefully checking her ears. ‘I simply must make sure you haven’t succeeded in talking her ears off, the same way I was worried I might have done yours.’ He grinned, satisfied that the horse’s ears were still intact. ‘And don’t you know that horses gossip, too?’
‘Yes, well, that’s quite considerate of you. I’m sure Bessie appreciates your concern, but she actually appears to love our little chats,’ I replied. ‘In fact, many times, she nods her head in agreement, don’t you, girl?’ I asked my four-footed friend. As if on cue, she nodded twice. Henley and I both broke into laughter.
‘For someone who’d never been on or around horses much until a few days ago, I do believe you’ve already learned how to train them, Miss Margaret,’ he declared.
‘Well, be that as it may,’ I said, taking his arm and steering him towards the stable door, ‘what presses upon my mind right now is how you’ve managed to escape your tutor’s and your father’s watchful eyes?’ I added, softly, ‘Not that I mind you paying Bessie and me a visit.’
He smiled, pleased to hear I was glad to see him. ‘It wasn’t easy, I assure you.’ He lowered his voice to a conspira- torial tone. ‘I asked Mr Lawrence a question that has absolutely nothing to do with the steel business, knowing he couldn’t resist going off to research it. Then it was simply a matter of slipping out of the house through the kitchen, so as not to pass Father’s study – easy as pie!’ He snapped his fingers for emphasis and gave me a wink.
‘What does that phrase mean, I wonder?’ I mused, just to make small talk and extend our time together. ‘How easy is pie compared to, say, cake, or your favourite – ice cream?’
He threw back his head and let out another of those belly laughs I’d first heard the other day at the mill. ‘Oh, you’re still quite the peculiar one, I see.’ He wagged his finger at me. ‘And don’t ever change that about yourself. What goes on in that mind of yours while you have so much time on your hands?’
‘Oh, nothing of great interest,’ I mumbled. ‘But I have another question for you – whatever did you ask poor Mr Lawrence to cause him to abandon his pupil in order to resolve it?’
‘Ah, that.’ Henley stroked his chin, as though he were a much older man with a full beard, replete with the wisdom that comes with a long life. ‘I simply asked the old fellow if he knew anything about how the Egyptians had managed to erect those amazing pyramids, and if he felt their construction methods might have any bearing on the future of the steel industry.’ He smiled, pleased with himself that he’d temporarily stumped his tutor.
‘But that did have to do with the steel business, then,’ I protested lightly.
‘For argument’s sake, yes, you have a point. But Mr Lawrence is so very focused on eating, breathing, sleeping and … Well, I won’t be indelicate as you’re a lady, but his every thought and action has revolved around steel since my father took him on as his protégé, long before I was even born. I believe he must have thought he’d be the heir apparent to the business until I showed up on the scene. Pity he can’t live out that dream – we’d both be happier.’
I stopped in my tracks. ‘Henley!’ I startled him with my firm tone. ‘You simply must tell them that you’d rather be a writer, or a teacher. Or a butcher, baker or candlestick maker – I don’t care what you want to be, I just want you to be happy. But they won’t know how unhappy you are unless you tell them.’ I gazed up at him, wondering where the ringing passion I heard in my own words had come from.
‘What a tirade! I didn’t think I inspired such fire in you,’ he said. ‘Oh, please, won’t you tell me your real name? I’ve – I’ve come to care for you so very much …’ He grabbed me by the arms and pulled me towards him, but I resisted.
‘This is neither the time nor the place for such things,’ I replied, hoping he’d let it go. ‘You simply must let your father know how you really feel.’ I stomped one foot for emphasis, and Henley nervously laughed.
‘I’d much rather let you know how I really feel,’ he said softly, advancing towards me once again.
This was dangerous ground we were approaching, and I dared not do anything to encourage his behaviour, no matter how conflicted my heart was. So I turned my back on him, as it was the first thing that popped into my mind. I stood stiff and still, doing my best to surround myself with icy coldness to keep him at a safe distance. He felt it, I knew, because he remained behind me and said nothing, waiting for me to speak first.
‘Henley,’ I began, not daring to turn around and face him yet, ‘I have feelings for you, too. I know you’re aware of that. But this is a dicey game we’ve started, to say the least. I want to tell you more about myself, and I promise, when that’s necessary, I’ll do my best to tell you everything I can. I owe you that much for all your kindness. But can’t you see that right now, the most important thing is for you to take charge of your own life before it’s too late?’ I turned to look at him then, knowing all too well what it felt like to have one’s lifepath taken over and controlled by other people and situations. My memories of being Cynthia faded a little more each day.
Henley nodded and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. ‘It suddenly got a bit warm, did you notice?’
I nodded, slightly amused by his awkwardness in changing the subject; something at which he was usually a master. At least I’d staved off his advances, for the time being. ‘Will you promise me that you’ll make every effort to tell your father what you really want to do with your life? Or if you’re unsure about that, at least tell him you definitely don’t imagine yourself as the new head of his steel business? Please, Henley – for your own sake, my friend.’
‘All right – that’s what a man would do, you’re right. I’m no longer a silly schoolboy. I can stand up for myself and tell Father what I want. Or at least,’ he said with a rueful smile, ‘as you so eloquently pointed out, what I know I don’t want. I’ll endeavour to do that tomorrow evening.’
‘Why wait?’ I asked. ‘Why not go to him right now, while your courage is up?’
‘Well,’ said Henley, ‘that would be next to impossible as Father went into the city late this morning. He’ll not be back until about noon tomorrow. But I give you my word, I shall approach him about this after dinner tomorrow evening.’
‘I see,’ I replied quietly as we headed back towards the house, but my mind was racing. If Mr Beauford was to be gone all night, perhaps I could finally get into the study and make off with the painting. After all, things with Henley were becoming rather intense, and I’d best extricate myself from this situation soon – the sooner, the better, in fact. We stopped on the porch, just in front of the house’s main door.
‘That’s good, Henley. I’m proud of you,’ I assured him with a steady smile. ‘I’m sure that when he hears how you really feel, he’ll work with you to see what the alternatives may be.’
‘I wish I had your confidence.’ He sighed. ‘Well, I’d best go and look up poor old Lawrence and see what he’s found out about those ingenious Egyptians. He’s probably still rooting around in the library, looking for a book about them.’ My friend tipped an invisible hat in my direction. ‘Until dinner, madam,’ he intoned.
I was too distracted to engage in our normal play-acting. ‘Yes, see you then,’ I said, and began to climb the stairs towards my room, but watched out of the corner of my eye to make sure Henley disappeared down the hall and into the library where he and Mr Lawrence always studied. Once I saw that he’d done so, I quietly backtracked down the hallway towards Mr Beauford’s study, hoping that Mr Beauford had left the study door unlocked. Miss Hatfield must be quite anxious by now that we had been out of contact for so long and I had been unable to succeed in my quest. Something in the pit of my stomach lurched a bit at that thought, and I felt
a strong foreboding that something wasn’t quite right.
Glancing up and down the hallway to make sure no prying eyes were aimed in my direction, I swiftly closed my hand upon the doorknob to the study. I quietly turned it – or, rather, attempted to do so. It was locked! ‘Drat,’ I muttered to myself. This could only mean one thing. I was going to have to figure out how to pick a lock!
Chapter 16
The rest of the afternoon was spent concocting a plan which would allow me to get into the study, steal the painting and leave. I steeled my resolve, determined to do my level best to make this happen. I paced back and forth in front of the fireplace long after the flames had expired. Deep in thought as I was, nothing else mattered. The feelings between Henley and me were moving in a direction I knew I couldn’t control much longer. I needed to complete my mission and move on before I hurt him even more deeply than I knew my inevitable disappearance was bound to do.
I heard a timid knock at the door and turned to see young Hannah standing there with some freshly folded linens in her arms. I smiled at her and waved her in. ‘Hello, Hannah. I haven’t seen you for a couple of days. Are you well?’
‘Oh, yes, miss,’ she replied. ‘I’ve brought you some clean sheets and towels. I’ve been quite busy, doing laundry and putting things away. Nellie’s been helping me.’ She beamed.
‘Ah, I see. So you and Nellie have become friends, then. That’s good. You’re both kind girls, and should be friends.’ I noticed a glint of silver in her hair as she quietly went about making up my bed. That was it! A hairpin might be just the trick to pick the study door’s lock! I had hairpins of my own, of course, but they were thicker than the one in Hannah’s hair appeared to be. But how to ask her for it without causing suspicion?
‘Where’s Nellie?’ I asked, just making small talk until I figured out how to get the pin from her.
‘She’s down helping the cook prepare dinner, miss. There are lamb chops tonight, and some roasted potatoes. Oh, but it all smells so lovely cooking!’ she exclaimed. I wondered if the servants got to eat the same food we were served at the Beaufords’ table, but realized they were most likely fed much simpler, cheaper fare. Perhaps the butler and the cook dined as we did, but I was sure the other staff weren’t accorded such privileges.
‘Hannah, have you ever had a lamb chop?’ I asked, pretty sure I knew the answer.
‘Ah, no, miss. But they look and smell … quite heavenly, I must say,’ she replied shyly.
‘Well, then, tonight you shall have your first. Tell Nellie that I specifically asked for you to serve me. It so happens that I don’t particularly care for lamb chops myself, but I’d hate for mine to go to waste. When you bring me my plate, just slip my chop onto a plate for yourself, and put some extra potatoes and other vegetables on mine, so it doesn’t look too bare when you place it in front of me. All right?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Shan’t I get in trouble, miss? I’ve never done anything like that before—’
‘Oh, if anyone even notices, which I highly doubt they will, I’ll just tell them my stomach’s been a bit upset and I requested a lighter dinner, that’s all. Besides, I don’t know if you’ve ever witnessed a dinner at the Beaufords’ table, but it’s usually a pretty solemn affair. Not many pleasantries are exchanged, I’m afraid, with everyone focused on finishing up their meal and getting on with their evening.’ I paused, knowing I’d given her something to look forward to – a new taste experience she might never have been able to afford herself. ‘Hannah, would you come here, please? I see something in your hair I’d like to take a look at.’
She began brushing at her hair. ‘What is it, miss? Not a spider, I hope!’ She ran over to me, her voice very high-pitched, and I felt bad for having frightened her. Another tone in her voice reminded me of how Cynthia would squeal when she found a spider in her room. She wouldn’t calm down until her father released it outside.
I found myself smiling at this sudden memory. I wondered if older people – those who aged naturally – thought of their younger selves as I now thought of Cynthia, as someone I’d known well, but a different person.
‘What is it?’ Hannah asked, seeing the look on my face. She still sounded distraught.
‘Nothing,’ I reassured her. ‘You just reminded me of someone I used to know.’ I soothed her as I swiftly removed the silver-coloured pin from her hair. ‘It was only this. See?’ I held the pin out for her to observe. ‘I wonder if you know where I might get some pins such as this? I have hairpins—’ I went to the bureau and held up a couple Henley had bought me to show her ‘—but I quite fancy these lighter weight, thinner ones. Could I trade you a few of mine for this one?’ I held out a half-dozen of my bronze pins.
She walked over to where I stood and looked up at me, perhaps unsure whether I might be teasing her. ‘Well, but, miss … These are much more costly than my simple pins—’
‘Oh, that doesn’t matter. I like your kind much better. Tell you what, you take these, and – if you have them – bring me an equal number of the silver ones next time you come up. Don’t make a special trip, just next time you need to bring something in here or tidy the upstairs rooms.’ She took the bronze pins from my hand, staring at them as if they were made of gold.
‘Thank you so much, miss. Yes, I will surely bring you five more silver pins and leave them right here on your dresser.’ She headed excitedly towards the door with her treasure clutched in her hand, but stopped before she got there and turned towards me one last time. ‘Miss, who was that person I reminded you of? Was it someone from home?’
When she saw that her question had caught me off guard, she blushed and apologized.
I shook my head. ‘She was someone I knew of and about, but not someone I knew well – an acquaintance, if you will.’
She nodded sombrely and suddenly I wanted to see her smile again.
‘And you won’t forget about the lamb chop tonight, now, will you? You ask cook to give you some nice mint jelly to go with it – that really brings out the flavour. Say I asked for it especially.’ I smiled at her.
‘Oh, no, miss, I’ll not forget, thank you.’ She looked at me, gratitude brimming in her young eyes. ‘Nellie told me you were very kind. Now I know what she means.’ She curtsied and ran out of the room.
It was curious to me how such a young girl managed so well, doing the work of an adult, and in the capacity of a servant. On one hand, I felt sorry for her and Nellie; on the other, I rather envied that they knew what would be expected of them from one day to the next. In my current situation, I never had one whit of a clue as to what might befall me in this strange world which was somehow becoming more familiar with each passing day. At that precise moment, all I knew for certain was that I’d acquired a helpful tool that might get me to the next phase of my plan. I straightened out the hairpin as best I could, and prayed it would be just what I needed when the time came. I looked through my clothes until I found a smart little weskit that had a pocket. Donning this over my blouse, I slipped the pin neatly into the pocket. At least that much of the plan was in place.
I returned to my pacing – it appeared to help me sort things out as I was thinking. I supposed I could grab the painting and borrow one of the faster horses. Then I’d ride back to the city and retrace my steps to return the painting to Miss Hatfield … I’d ridden Bessie now and again during the previous few days, but with Wellesley’s help had also become more comfortable atop a couple of the younger, swifter horses. That had to be the solution; take a horse and ride back to the city, carefully holding on to the painting somehow. I wasn’t sure I remembered the way, but it couldn’t be that complicated, and I could always ask for directions. That was that – plan completed! Now all I had to do was pull it off.
Dinner was served promptly at eight, as usual. Henley, Mr Lawrence and I were the only diners, as Mr Beauford wouldn’t return from his trip until the next day. The mood at the table was much lighter than when the old gentleman was present. I was glad
Mr Lawrence had joined us, for I didn’t trust myself to be alone too much with Henley right now.
Good girl that she was, Hannah brought me my vegetarian meal, and I winked at her quickly in thanks. I knew she’d enjoy that lamb chop, and they truly never had been a favourite of mine, so we’d both be happy with our food that night.
Henley was busy baiting Mr Lawrence and thankfully didn’t pay me too much heed, although I suspected he would have liked to but was concerned about Mr Lawrence’s impressions. They were discussing the Egyptians’ building ingenuity, as well as the price of steel on the export side of things – topics I basically knew nothing about, and that was fine with me. It allowed me to think through my plan, step by step, over and over in my mind. Rather like an actor rehearses for a play, I realized. I found that amusing, recalling my – or rather, Cynthia’s – father reciting something along the lines of ‘all the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players’. Funny that I could remember such trivial details of my past life while larger memories were already fading in chunks and pieces.
I heard Henley lightly tapping the side of his water glass with his spoon. ‘I say, dear cousin, whatever is preoccupying your mind this evening? You’ve barely said two words. I dare say it’s something amusing, considering that smile on your lips.’ He looked at me expectantly and I knew some type of response was required.
‘Oh, I was just remembering something my father said long ago.’ I stood up and so did they, as gentlemen of the day always did when a lady entered or left a room. ‘I’m sorry to say, however, that I’m feeling a bit under the weather and must retire early. Please forgive me, and do continue your conversation over dessert and coffee.’ I nodded my head slightly and moved swiftly out of the dining room. I could feel Henley’s eyes piercing my back as I exited. He was curious, I knew, but wouldn’t want to pique Mr Lawrence’s nosiness by being too solicitous of his ‘cousin’. I was confident he wouldn’t follow me and, thankfully, he didn’t.
The Seventh Miss Hatfield Page 15