I tried to think what would happen after I left. Eliza, Henley and all the others would grow old. Henley would marry Christine and their hair would become speckled with silver as the years went by. Even Christine’s face would lose its youthful beauty, and maybe Henley would wind up with a walking stick like his father, but I … I would have to live for ever without the one thing I wanted more than life itself, and knew I couldn’t have. I closed my eyes, thankful that Eliza couldn’t see the pain in my face.
She nodded and rocked herself gently to and fro; we remained just so in the garden for a while, comfortable together in the silence.
Chapter 27
A few uneventful days passed. I was quickly losing touch with this present reality as I prepared to leave it behind. I felt the detachment and sense of unrest growing within me more and more, and knew it was good that I’d be leaving soon. However, there was still no sign from Henley, so I had no idea when he’d decide the perfect moment had come to enact his plan – whatever it was. I hoped it would be soon – it was becoming harder and harder to disguise the pain and unease I felt.
I began taking meals regularly in the dining room with the group again. Henley genuinely looked merry when sitting by Christine, politely laughing at her feeble attempts at jokes, while Eliza’s eye-rolling betrayed her weariness after enduring too many years of her sister’s charade and brainless prattling.
I couldn’t help but notice a faraway, haunted look in Henley’s eyes from time to time, when he glanced away from Christine and in the direction of the study. I hoped I hadn’t burdened him too much, soliciting his assistance with my mission at this difficult time. No one else appeared to be aware of this unease within him, however, and it was only for fleeting moments that I could detect it. Surprisingly, he actually looked quite happy and at ease with Christine. The more I saw them together, the clearer it became that he’d made his decision. While I knew this must continue to play out, it was still somewhat disconcerting to witness the man I couldn’t deny I was still in love with carefree and smiling in the company of another woman.
I became more of a wallflower than I’d thought possible; keeping my comments to myself and usually just talking quietly with Eliza, and sometimes, of course, to Hannah and Nellie. I didn’t want anyone to realize how difficult I was finding it to remain in this time. One day, after nearly a week had passed since the funeral, the two maids were in my room, changing the linens as I sat at my writing desk, pretending to be busy, but really wondering when Henley was going to make his move so that I could leave. I knew my days were numbered with Christine here, and with Mr Beauford – the subject of my supposed article – now dead. Even if I could have borne the ever-intensifying pain, it would have been impossible for Henley to allow me to stay.
I heard Hannah clear her throat. ‘Miss Rebecca?’ she asked expectantly. ‘Will you be staying for the wedding, ma’am?’ I could tell by her voice she hoped that I would, and I knew I must hide the nausea churning in the pit of my stomach from these girls.
‘Oh, alas, I’m afraid not, Hannah. I’d like to,’ I lied through my teeth, ‘but I have to be getting back to my life as a journalist, you see.’ I made a show of straightening some papers on my desk. For some unknown reason, this appeared to give Nellie a cue to offer some opinions and gossip of her own.
‘Oh, but it’s bound to be a grand affair, Miss Rebecca,’ she enthused. ‘They’ve been betrothed for many years, you know, and when the two family fortunes are united by their marriage,’ and here she nodded knowingly at Hannah, ‘I believe our positions in their household will definitely be secure for as long as we want them.’
I smiled politely. ‘Yes, it’s been common knowledge for quite a while now that Christine and Henley will be married, isn’t that right?’ It was a rhetorical question, but I felt some comment was required of me. The girls simply nodded, and kept on with their tidying and chores.
Even though I felt more and more ill at the thought of Henley being with that air-headed heiress, I knew there was nothing I could or should do to stop it. I had to return to Miss Hatfield, and Henley had to get on with his life in his time. I knew the only other choice would be to stay with him and watch him slowly die; something I knew I couldn’t do, even if I found a way to stay – and I was becoming more and more convinced that Miss Hatfield had been right, and the universe was refusing to allow my existence in the wrong time to continue. I said a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening to please light a fire under Henley soon, to get the show on the road so I could move forward with my plans as well. I was beginning to feel like an insufferable inconvenience here, and I knew the servants, while fond of me, were also wondering why I hadn’t already taken my leave now that Mr Beauford had passed away.
That night at dinner, even though Henley and I hadn’t really spoken since that day in the garden over a week ago, he gave me a meaningful look and took out his pocket watch. I instinctively knew he was signalling me that the time was nigh, and wondered if it might be this very evening. I felt a rush of excitement at the thought. At last I could get back to someplace in the time continuum where my life was less complicated, with fewer emotional ups and downs hindering me.
Henley displayed his usual charm and made pleasant small talk with Christine and Eliza, but didn’t talk directly to me. When Christine excused herself to the ladies’ room, he got up from his seat, and as he walked by Eliza and myself he said, ‘Ladies, I bid you good evening. Rest well.’ And with another significant glance at me, he placed a small piece of folded paper beside my plate. I made sure Christine was still out of the room before opening it, and unfolded it slowly so as not to alert Eliza to anything unusual, but she was on the opposite side of the table, engaged in conversation.. It said: Everything is ready behind Thunder’s feed bin, under a blanket. H.
My heart fluttered in my chest. The time was finally at hand. ‘Excuse me, Eliza,’ I hurriedly said. ‘I need to go up to my room – I’m not feeling too well at the moment.’
She clucked her tongue in concern. ‘Tch, tch, Rebecca – I’m so sorry. Do go and have a good night’s sleep then, dear, and I’ll see you in the morning. You haven’t been sounding very well of late – perhaps you should see a doctor.’
I touched her shoulder. She was so kind, so bright and so brave. I knew I would miss her. ‘Thank you for understanding. I have been a little under the weather, but I was hoping nobody had noticed. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I hope you sleep well, too,’ I offered as I quickly exited and went upstairs. Nothing looked unusual in the hallway leading to the study, and I wasn’t sure what to expect next. All I knew was that the game was afoot, and I needed to be ready.
I quickly packed a small bag with the bare essentials I’d need for the ride back to the city, and placed it along with my cloak by the door where I could grab it at a moment’s notice. I lay down upon my bed, still fully dressed so that I could flee quickly whenever Henley’s master plan was set in motion. I closed my eyes, thinking I would only take a quick nap, and almost instantly went into a deep sleep.
Chapter 28
The smell of smoke had only just begun wafting into my room when I heard the screaming start. Confused, I coughed as I sat up in bed, taking a moment to try and orientate myself to what was going on. Then Nellie burst into my room.
‘Oh, come quickly, Miss Rebecca!’ she cried. ‘The whole house is ablaze – we must get out!’
‘Eliza!’ I screamed and started towards my friend’s door, but Nellie just kept dragging me along the hall and down the stairs. I barely had time to grab my little bag and cloak.
‘Hannah’s helped Miss Eliza out already, Miss Rebecca. Come now, we must hurry!’
Everything was red and smoky, and it all felt so surreal. Events were unfolding in slow motion and, in some ways, I was sure I must be dreaming. But when the cold night air hit my face at the bottom of the stairs and I flung one last look over my shoulder, I knew it was truly happening.
The ceiling moaned as the
chandelier in the hallway swayed and detached, crashing to the floor and shattering into a million tiny pieces. Then the ceiling itself fell in on top of it. A piece of burned paper fluttered through the air, almost hitting my face, but I automatically opened my free hand and caught it, sticking it in my pocket to remember this night. That was the last thing I recall before Nellie finally got me outside, and we were somehow standing with all the other residents of the Beauford Estate, huddled into a few small groups a safe distance away from the blazing mansion.
As I watched from afar, as the flames engulfed the beautiful old house, a montage of my time with the Beaufords was playing in my memory like an old black-and-white picture show in a different time. But that memory was from another lifetime and had no bearing here. I was immortal. Time had no relevance for me any more. I had to get away, and in the next couple of hours, before anyone had a chance to give me a reason to stay, or notice that I was taking a painting with me. I had to assume that Henley’s plan to destroy the artefacts had been to burn them, and that things had got out of hand.
My attention snapped back to the present. I hoped Henley had retained the presence of mind to ready food in the barn alongside the painting on my behalf. Thinking of Henley, I looked around the huddled groups of people, but I didn’t see him. In my reverie, I hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t standing in his rightful place beside Christine.
I had no words to describe the feeling that ripped through me the instant I realized he wasn’t there. I felt paralysed, yet there I was, running towards the flame-engulfed house. I knew that what I was doing didn’t make sense. It was hardly the logical thing to do, but somehow I couldn’t find it in me to care. Henley was still in the house, and I was going to get him out. I didn’t care what I risked. I just needed him to be safe.
My legs ran as if they weren’t my own. It was as though my eyes were seeing what my body was doing a few seconds after it actually moved.
Out of nowhere, I felt arms grab me and I tried to break free. I almost succeeded, but the arms only gripped me tighter, and I knew the rough embrace would have hurt if I’d had the capacity to feel anything in that moment.
‘Miss. Miss!’ The arms shook me when I didn’t respond. ‘You can’t do that. You can’t run into the burning house, miss.’
The arms held me still when I struggled against them, pinning my fists to my sides. I felt my cheeks grow wet, and my hair, now loose and flying madly across my face, stuck to my skin.
‘Think of the young master.’ My arms went limp at the mention of Henley. ‘He wouldn’t want you to do this. He’d want you to trust him. He’ll get out. Trust him.’
I looked up to see Wilchester’s face inches above mine. His expression was fierce, determined not to cry out or shed tears.
My body gave in and all my limbs went slack. Without his arms supporting me, I would have dropped to the ground in a heap. It was all I could do to squint towards the house. Hoping. Just hoping that maybe, through luck or divine will, Henley had made it out alive.
Those seconds and minutes felt like the longest I’d ever endured. All I could hear was my heart in my ears and my eyes burned from the smoke. My vision blurred – whether from the acrid fumes or my tears, I knew not – but when at long last I saw movement in the flames, I thought I must be imagining it.
My grimy hands wiped frantically at my eyes, trying to clear my vision enough to see through the hazy smoke. A man was running towards us, covering his mouth with a handkerchief and coughing. It was Henley.
I was so thankful to see him, I thought I would go insane with joy. I took a step towards him, but stopped as I saw his eyes scan the crowd for any missing faces. I knew he had a role to play, and watched him take his rightful place beside Christine. Surprisingly, Christine had her arm around Eliza in their little group, and Eliza actually looked happy. Perhaps, in times of great crisis, even Christine could rally to Eliza’s defence and be a decent person. I certainly hoped so, both for Eliza’s sake and Henley’s. As Henley made his rounds, double-checking to be sure everyone had got out, he gave me a quick glance and a nod. There was a shadow of guilt in his eyes; we both knew it was he who had started the fire, but no one else would ever suspect the new young master of destroying his own home, intentionally or not. I remembered Henley saying that the house reminded him of his father in ways the city house did not. I found it strange, since they were both family houses, but I supposed that the house in the country was where Henley had spent most of his time when he was home from school. Perhaps this had been his plan all along – to wipe out every physical reminder of his painful memories so he could start again.
The flames were in their full glory now, and it was plain to everyone that nothing left inside could be saved. All we could do was stand there, awestruck, as we watched the destruction of the place that had once been home to us all; witnessing the rising flames devour what had been a gorgeous old mansion as it went up in smoke. I hadn’t expected Henley’s plan to have quite such a dramatic conclusion – but it had certainly been effective in achieving what I needed to accomplish. Not only were the study and all its contents now ash, but the whole house as well.
I looked up at the sky. The moon shone down coldly upon the devastating scene, utterly unbothered by the tragedy playing out beneath it.
Chapter 29
Henley assumed his full responsibilities as the master of the situation, since there was no longer a house to be master of.
‘I’m so pleased everyone escaped without any harm. I’m sorry about your things, of course, but things can be replaced and there will be a new house. This is a time to start over for all of us.’ He rubbed his hands together as though searching for his next words, but perhaps he’d rehearsed this speech a few times prior to setting his plan in motion this evening.
Whose plan? I heard Miss Hatfield’s voice enquire, and I shuddered, trying to make her go away. I hadn’t heard from her in several days, and her presence here felt like a true invasion of privacy. I silently sent her a request: Please be patient just a little while longer. I’ll be back with you less than twenty-four hours from now.
Hearing no reply, I felt she must be satisfied that I was finally going to carry out my mission. I was startled back into the present reality when I heard Henley giving directions.
‘All right, since it’s so late – and we won’t really be able to assess what’s to be done until daylight anyway – rather than waking up our neighbours, I propose we set up temporary sleeping accommodations in the lofts above the two stables.’ He paused, looking at me, and I knew we were both thinking of the painting and supplies hidden in one of the stables. ‘We won’t use the third stable. It’s too close to the house. The other two are far enough away from the main house that they should be safe, but one of us will stay awake at all times to make sure that no stray spark reaches us. One stable will be for the womenfolk, and we men will be in the other.’ He grinned wearily. ‘Hay can actually be quite comfortable to sleep on, if you aren’t allergic to it.’ He turned to the male servants. ‘Come along, fellows, I’ll show you where there are some nice clean horse blankets, and we can fashion some makeshift mattresses for the women. The men shall rough it and sleep right on the hay.’
The servants agreed and set to work immediately, although everyone was already exhausted from the ordeal. I was impressed by how quickly the men created sleeping spaces for the women in the first loft, but Christine could bring herself to do nothing other than complain. What a surprise!
‘I simply must have my own mattress.’ Christine flounced down on the hay near where Wilchester and another servant were busily creating the best beds possible for us. ‘I can’t tolerate having someone else so close to me while I’m sleeping – it’s suffocating!’
Eliza and I were already stretching out on the bed we’d agreed to share, and it was surprisingly soft and comfortable. A wicked grin spread across Eliza’s face as she heard this last comment from her sister. ‘Lucky Henley. Perhaps they won’t ever
have to share a bed, then!’ she whispered, and giggled like a schoolgirl.
I chuckled quietly, but kept my gaze on the rafters so as not to allow Christine to see our little joke was at her expense. She appeared oblivious, however, and went right on spouting her negativity even after the men created an extra high and wide bed for her. She sat on it tentatively.
‘Oh, this is going to be so lumpy,’ she whined. ‘I wonder if my back will ever recover.’
Eliza could be silent no more at that. ‘Christine!’ she reprimanded, her tone uncharacteristically sharp. ‘You are so ungrateful! We all might have died, but everyone got out alive. Henley has lost his home, and you’re complaining about where you’ll be sleeping for a few short hours. You should thank the good Lord above you’re alive, and consider being a better helpmate to your intended husband. Now, I don’t want to hear another word.’ She rolled over, turning her back to her older sister, who was stunned into silence.
I wanted to applaud and say, ‘Bravo, Eliza!’ but I held my tongue. I was simply happy for my friend that she’d finally found a way to honestly voice her feelings to her sibling.
Wilchester and another servant stood at the top of the loft ladder, preparing to climb down and head over to the other stable to join the rest of the men. There was a delighted smile on Wilchester’s face, which made him nearly unrecognizable. I’d never seen a smile light up his countenance before, and had wondered at times if the dour old fellow’s face might break if he ever did smile, but that obviously wasn’t the case. It looked a bit odd sitting there on his lips, but I smiled back at him as I realized he had little patience for Christine, either, and had thoroughly enjoyed the tongue-lashing Eliza had just delivered. He bobbed his head in our direction.
‘Goodnight, Miss Rebecca, Miss Eliza. Some of us will be taking a carriage into town in the morning, bright and early, to fetch some breakfast back for everyone. I trust you’ll all sleep well, now.’
The Seventh Miss Hatfield Page 24