The lead driver slapped the reins gently to get his two horses going, and we were off. Still no Henley, and I began to worry about his well-being. His state of mind had been so disjointed the last time I’d seen him; yet somehow I felt he was all right, and would undoubtedly join us at the church. Perhaps he’ll prefer to ride Jasper and be alone with his thoughts, I mused.
Once we got to town, I unwrapped my flowers while the others disembarked from the carriages and entered the simple church. As Eliza and I walked side by side down the aisle towards the altar, I saw Mr Beauford’s mahogany casket at the very front of the church. The casket was closed. I thought this might be at Henley’s request, but couldn’t know for sure. I helped Eliza settle in the second pew, then quietly excused myself and took my spray of flowers to lay them with several other bouquets already on the chancel steps. As I set them down, I gazed upwards, hoping Mr Beauford could somehow see and hear me, and silently told him, ‘These are from Henley. I’m simply the messenger.’
Shockingly, Henley never did make an appearance at Mr Beauford’s funeral, and I heard many mutterings and whisperings about how disrespectful, selfish and ungrateful a son he was. Only I knew the true depth of Henley’s pain, but even so, I’d expected him to show his face, at least for a while. But this was not the case.
The service was pleasant enough, though the eulogy sounded a bit forced. Mr Beauford hadn’t been a regular churchgoer, either here in the country or in the city. But he’d apparently contributed generously, probably at the suggestion of Father Gabriel, in order to make his funeral a good show. I gleaned as much from two plaques I saw hanging on the walls – ‘Courtesy of Mr Charles F. Beauford’ and ‘Charles F. Beauford Memorial Chapel’. No wonder the old boy had wanted his funeral here – he was keen for people to see he’d at least done his best to buy his way into heaven! ‘Good for you,’ I found myself saying to him. I had to give him credit – he’d been as generous as he could be in the only way he knew how, even if these nameplates were what he’d really been investing in.
The cemetery was adjacent to the church so we all walked over to it, the six pall-bearers hefting the elegant coffin, marching slowly in perfect synchronicity. They all looked too young to have been Mr Beauford’s associates, so I assumed that perhaps their services, too, had been prepaid.
Father Gabriel stood tall in front of the congregation and began the final prayer. His youthful features contrasted with his dark, serious eyes, hollowed out with grief. As he spoke, he captivated everyone with his strong voice.
‘We commend to Almighty God our brother Charles Fitzpatrick Beauford, and we commit his body to the ground.’
I wondered if Mr Beauford was watching from some place on high. If he was, did he like how his funeral had turned out, with his chaplain leading it? Or was he sad that so few people had turned up?
‘In the midst of life, we are in death.’
I looked down at the dirt beneath my feet.
‘Earth to earth.’
Christine sniffed audibly and dramatically patted her eyes with her handkerchief as she leaned on anyone she could around her.
‘Ashes to ashes.’
Eliza squeezed my hand in a show of solidarity.
‘Dust to dust.’
I looked at the faces of the people around me who had bothered to turn up for the funeral. Most of them were dry-eyed. To them, Mr Beauford wasn’t a man you cried over, but they were respectful. They’d come to show their regard and admiration for him.
‘The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him, and be gracious unto him, and give him peace. Amen.’
I felt Henley’s absence sharply at that moment. I couldn’t necessarily blame him for not showing up after Mr Beauford’s recent revelations, but I did feel he needed to pay his respects.
‘Amen.’
Once the coffin had been lowered into the ground, Christine made a bit of a spectacle of herself, openly crying as she tossed a few pieces of earth into the grave. I later saw her loudly thanking Father Gabriel between sobs for his prayer. She glanced around as if trying to make sure everyone saw her very public show of thanks.
Eliza, ever at my side during the entire service, said nothing disparaging, but when she heard her sister’s snivels, she cleared her throat as if to send Christine the message: Have some decorum, for goodness’ sake! I could only assume Christine felt she must put on a good show as the future daughter-in-law of the deceased. That whole title sounded odd as it went through my thoughts. How could anyone be the ‘future’ anything of someone who was dead?
I jerked to a ramrod-straight posture as I heard Miss Hatfield’s unmistakable voice say, ‘And how exactly do you explain your own presence in a time where everyone is already dead? Explanations are not always simple.’ I heard her voice so clearly that I turned around quickly to see if she was standing behind me. I blinked to clear my vision, but she wasn’t there and, sadly, neither was Henley. Not even for the burial of the man who’d raised him and provided for him in the best way he knew.
I wondered if I’d be hearing Miss Hatfield’s voice more frequently and more prominently the longer I stayed here, a weird aural accompaniment to the uneasy feeling in my stomach that grew more painful with each passing day. It was quite unsettling. I wondered if she could hear my thoughts, too.
Of course I can’t, you silly girl. She sighed impatiently. Haven’t you heard of something called imagination? I hear most people have it.
I shook my head to try and get her out of there, but her tinkling, sarcastic laugh indicated that wouldn’t work. Oh, this is maddening! I thought, and heard her retort, Well, this is you going mad, isn’t it? How else would you explain my voice in your head?
I looked down to see Eliza gazing up at me with a concerned look on her face. ‘You’re squirming a lot, Rebecca. Are you uncomfortable?’ she asked kindly.
‘Yes, yes, I’m afraid standing for this long has made me feel a bit faint. Would you mind terribly if we make haste back to the carriage now?’ Flustered, I hoped that talking with someone who was physically present with me would shut out Miss Hatfield. When she remained silent, I hoped it was working.
‘Of course, dear,’ Eliza soothed. ‘The service is over, anyway, is it not?’
I looked around and was surprised to find that nearly everyone had already wandered back towards their carriages. The disruptive mental conversation with Miss Hatfield had made me lose touch with what was going on around me. I felt trapped between dimensions and times.
All I wanted now was to take the painting and go back to Miss Hatfield – back to normal, or however close to it I could get – but everything was going wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, and I found myself in no state of mind to concentrate on anything other than worrying about Henley.
‘Come, let’s hurry, then,’ I urged Eliza. I grabbed her walking stick and took firm hold of her arm, and we were back aboard our carriage and on our way to the estate in a matter of minutes. The air on my face helped to calm me a little, but I was still feeling a bit hollow, as though part of me was beginning to disappear.
Chapter 26
The next day, Henley came ambling into the house as though nothing was out of the ordinary. I was coming down the stairs when our eyes met. He tossed his riding crop onto the small flower-patterned chair beside the parlour door and made one of his mock bows to me, as he’d done so many times in all our early play-acting and flirtations.
‘Charmed, Miss Rebecca; you look excellent well.’ He didn’t sound drunk, so that was something, I thought.
I couldn’t quite get into the role-playing again, though. ‘I’m fine, thank you, Henley. But how are you? And—’ I lowered my voice as I walked to his side ‘—the more salient question is, where have you been?’
His face clouded over. ‘Why the hell should you care? Or anyone, for that matter? I may be the heir apparent as far as everyone else is concerned, but it’s been made clear as day to me, and to you as my
witness, that I no more belong here than … well, than a stranger such as yourself.’ His tone had been snarling at first, but as he expressed his innermost thoughts, he grew pensive. I knew he wasn’t really angry with me, at any rate, and just let it slide.
‘How long has it been since you’ve eaten a decent meal?’ I changed the subject and, crooking my finger at him, led him down the hallway towards the kitchen. ‘Let’s see what Eloise can cook up for you. You look famished.’ I glanced back over my shoulder at him. Good! He was following me. I smiled at him, but he didn’t appear to notice. That was fine – it was easier to take inventory of his appearance if he was unaware I was doing so. His clothing was wrinkled and his beard had grown quite a bit since I’d seen him last, but at least his hair was combed. I decided to make no mention of his absence from the funeral. He appeared to be on the road to a recovery of sorts. At least he was making an effort, albeit a feeble one, to look somewhat presentable.
He begrudgingly followed me into the kitchen. When Eloise saw him, she nearly shouted in alarm. ‘Mr Henley! Child, where on earth have ye been keeping yourself?’ she exclaimed.
‘I believe he needs the fortification of one of your excellent meals, Eloise,’ I answered for him as he stared at the floor like a naughty child who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. ‘Could you please whip up something for him? He needs his strength rebuilt.’
‘Ay, that’s plain to see,’ she agreed, and immediately set about slicing some of the roast beef left over from the previous night’s dinner, and in no time had set before him an overstuffed sandwich of roast beef, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and onions – obviously one of his favourites going by the way his face lit up before he bit into it.
I enjoyed seeing him relish it, but decided to slip out quietly, thinking perhaps he would open up a bit more easily to his old friend without me present.
I was feeling more antsy than I had a week before, but thankfully I hadn’t heard Miss Hatfield’s voice since the funeral, for which I was grateful. It was extremely disconcerting when she popped into my head. I knew I’d conversed with imaginary friends when I was Cynthia, but that sort of imagination wasn’t something that scared me or drove me to a point where I couldn’t trust myself to be alone.
Over the course of the day, I kept myself busy working on my plan to carry out my mission. With each passing hour, more and more of the many staff members were quietly leaving, usually with a single suitcase in hand. Clearly they all had relatively few personal belongings. This was exactly what I’d promised Nellie and Hannah would not happen, so I decided I needed to confront Henley about it.
I sought him out and found him in the garden with Eliza. They were sitting comfortably together in silence, and his countenance looked more peaceful than it had earlier. He’d trimmed his stubble nicely, and it was obvious he was planning on keeping it, at least for a while. It suited him, actually. I nodded to him, and when our eyes locked, I signalled that I needed to talk with him privately.
He excused himself from Eliza and walked over to the side yard of the house, where I joined him. Here we’d be out of earshot of Eliza and the remaining servants. Christine didn’t appear to be in evidence, which suited me just fine.
‘Are you quite well, Rebecca?’ he asked with some concern. ‘You look peaked.’ He kept a respectful distance from me, and I felt a mixture of relief and something else – a deep love for the young man in front of me – but the feeling of relief was more powerful. The fewer complications I created before I left, the better.
‘Yes, thank you, Henley. I’m fine,’ I replied. ‘I’m just worried about the servants … several of them have left already. Do you intend to dismiss them all?’ I tried not to sound indignant, but I couldn’t believe that Mr Beauford would have wanted his loyal staff to be let go.
‘Why, no, not at all. All who have left have done so by their own choice. Obviously you didn’t know that.’ He was reading the reactions on my face. ‘I helped the ones who wanted to leave after Father …’ His voice faltered and he dropped his gaze. ‘After Mr Beauford passed away, several who had been with us for a long time just wanted to move on. Two were at retirement age and have returned home to live near their children, and I found stations for the rest at neighbouring estates.’ He looked back up at me, just the faintest hint of a smile in his eyes. ‘You have such a sense of justice, don’t you? I admire that. But I should hope you’d know I would never throw anyone out into the street. We can afford to keep most of them on; some just decided to leave of their own volition, that’s all.’ He shook his head, then added, ‘No one was more surprised than me. Except perhaps yourself.’
I felt embarrassed. How could I have suspected him of such a thoughtless act? I knew him better than that, or liked to think I did. I lowered my voice a bit; I knew Eliza’s hearing was quite keen. ‘Please forgive me for insinuating that, Henley. I was just distraught because Hannah and Nellie are worried about their jobs.’
He gently waved a hand from side to side, as if to erase the mere thought. ‘They’re both welcome to stay on as long as they like. In fact, with some of the older ones gone, I expect they’ll be promoted a bit faster. It’s a new start for all of us.’ He tentatively reached out and touched my shoulder, as a friend would. ‘But what of you and your circumstance – are you still determined to take your leave of us?’
I nodded. ‘I must, Henley. I don’t belong here …’ I nearly told him more about the truth of my situation, but he’d already been through so much of late, the last thing he needed was the burden of my full story; and the odds were he wouldn’t believe most of it, anyway. ‘I do still need your assistance to destroy those artefacts we’ve talked of …’ I remembered Henley’s comments regarding gossiping ser- vants. ‘And it must be done as inconspicuously as possible.’
I saw a glint spark in his eyes and wondered if he might actually take great pleasure in helping me get rid of something that had been a source of such destructive fascination to Mr Beauford. ‘That can be arranged,’ he assured me. ‘What exactly must you do away with in the study?’
I sighed. ‘Virtually everything, to be safe. There’s more at stake here than you or I can possibly fathom. Those records could be quite dangerous were they to fall into the wrong hands.’
Henley nodded, showing that he believed me even if he didn’t understand. ‘So everything save the painting you need to take with you, then?’
‘Yes, and the sooner, the better.’ I felt I owed him at least something of an explanation. ‘You see, Henley, I’m living a double life in many ways, and it’s not merely my own welfare I’m concerned with here—’
My dear friend looked grim, but held up his hand to let me know I need say no more. It was probably wise not to burden him with any more details, at any rate; and it was obvious he’d decided to help me, no questions asked. He really was a remarkable young man. Christine didn’t deserve him, not by any stretch of the imagination. But that was their problem to sort out, not mine. He was concocting a plan, and was deep in thought. As he stroked his new beard, he looked older and perhaps a little wiser than before. It was obvious that Mr Beauford’s death had touched his life in many ways and he had suddenly become a man.
‘All right, then. Here’s how it shall be played out. You’re to do nothing. Leave it all to me.’ He paused, but when I opened my mouth to object, he held up his hand to silence me and said, ‘Remember, servants do more than just listen. They talk. I don’t want any suspicions cast upon you, and we can’t risk your mission being delayed any longer by unwelcome meddlers.’ He sounded firm on this, but I couldn’t let him take on all the responsibility.
‘Oh, you needn’t go that far on my account,’ I protested. ‘Surely we can work out a plan whereby—’
He interrupted me. ‘I already have it all worked out, and it’s a dilly of a plan, if I do say so myself. But you’ll just have to trust me. You’re welcome to take Thunder to go wherever you need to when the time comes, but I insist you allow
me to pursue this in my own way, Rebecca.’ He extended his hand. ‘Agreed?’
Reluctantly, I shook his hand and nodded. ‘Very well, agreed. I can’t thank you enough, Henley.’
‘Think nothing of it.’ He motioned that I should go and sit with Eliza while he headed off in another direction. ‘You have touched my life profoundly,’ he whispered. ‘I shall never forget you, and I wish you nothing but happiness.’ He briefly took my hand and silently touched my fingertips to his lips, but it was a true friend’s kiss, and nothing more. I couldn’t believe he was so agreeable to helping me, with really no explanation whatsoever. I went to sit beside Eliza, and when I turned back to thank him again, he was gone.
‘Well, Eliza, there’s been a slight changing of the guard, I’m afraid. You’re stuck with me, dear, as Henley had to take off on some errand.’ I patted her hand and she smiled.
‘Oh, I’m glad, Rebecca,’ she said. ‘I’ve missed talking with you these past few days. Are you planning to leave us soon, in order to finish writing your feature about Mr Beauford and get back to your busy life as a newspaperwoman?’
‘Yes, that’s right, Eliza. Sometime during the next few days, that’s exactly what I must do. I shall miss you all.’ I squeezed her hand, knowing it was Henley and herself I’d miss the most.
Eliza laughed. ‘We’ll come and visit you in the city. You must have an office. How exciting! To have your very own desk in your room—’
‘Indeed you must.’ I didn’t want to lie to my young friend, but had no choice.
Eliza paused and I sensed that she knew that something was wrong, but she didn’t say a word.
The Seventh Miss Hatfield Page 23