Sunlight and Shadows

by Christine Cross

  “Of course, sir,” I had answered. But we exchanged knowing looks.

  Life had not changed for those around us, but my own life felt entirely new. Living on the duke’s estate when I had been young seemed so very dull and monotonous. But with Miss Bannerman, I looked forward to waking each day and being able to see her face. It made work pleasant and exciting, knowing I would pass by her in the halls and steal moments with her.

  She was adamant that it would not interfere with our duties, and I heartily agreed, since I discovered that I worked far harder and with more ease when I was as happy as I was. But we certainly were not able to contain our joy.

  The rest of the staff seemed suspicious of us, speaking to each other for extended periods of time, eating dinner together on a regular basis, and silently communicating with glances.

  “Be sure Master Honeyfield does not discover your infatuation,” Ms. Henrietta warned one afternoon before tea.

  I furrowed my brow at her. “And what makes you say such a thing?”

  She pursed her lips. “I know not how he would react.”

  Her words, though simple, were quite profound, and struck a chord in me. I wished to keep my position, but much more so, wanted to protect Abigail and her position. I did not want to be the reason that Mr. Honeyfield dismissed her.

  The fear of our positions in the house had me lost in thought for several weeks, and caused me to withdraw from Miss Bannerman. What troubled me most was that a life with Miss Bannerman suddenly seemed distant, and perhaps unattainable. What would be proper, I was not sure. Surely hired staff at an estate found their spouses among the workers, and were able to live normal lives, still able to fulfill their duties. Had this never happened in the Honeyfield home before?

  Quite a few of the staff were married and had families, but they lived away from the manor, in the village outside the estate, and came in each day to help with the various duties of the home. But Ms. Henrietta, who herself was a lady far along in her years, had taken the time to warn me. Did that mean that something had happened in the past? Would Mr. Honeyfield truly be against any sort of union between his staff members?

  The thoughts troubled me as I went about my days, but I couldn’t shake the feelings that I had for her, not even for my own security.

  The first signs of spring finally came upon the manor. Flowers began to bud on the trees all along the estate, and the dull, lifeless sky grew more and more blue each day.

  “Miss Bannerman,” I nodded my head to her in the hall as we passed by one another, the afternoon sun streaming in the open windows, the air fresh and fragrant with flowers.

  Miss Judith and Miss Marina, laughing and skipping, smiled up at me as they passed, and made their way down the halls to their rooms. She stopped in front of me and smiled wide. Her blue hat flattered her features, and she had a basket full of wild flowers in her hands. My heart tightened in my chest. She was just so beautiful.

  “Mr. Clarke,” she replied. “How are you this fine day?”

  “I am quite well,” I answered.

  Cries came from down the hall, happy and innocent, from the girls as they ran from Miss Judith’s room to Miss Marina’s.

  “Have you ladies had a pleasant day?”

  “Oh, heavens yes, we spent a great deal of time selecting the perfect flowers for the ball this evening,” she answered, holding up her basket. “The girls wished for me to braid their hair with them.”

  “What a lovely idea,” I answered. I rocked on my feet and shifted my weight to my other leg. “Miss Bannerman, I have a small request.”

  She looked back at me, and some of her professional demeanor disappeared. The girls seemed occupied in their rooms, and other than their delightful shrieks, we were alone. “Yes, Mr. Clarke?”

  “How would you like to share in a small meal with me this evening? The Master and his family will be away at the ball, and the air is so mild that it seemed a perfect time to have a stroll through the gardens.”

  Her smile widened, all the way to her eyes, and she looked down at the basket in her hands. Her cheeks were the same color as the tulips in her basket. “Mr. Clarke, that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

  “Then meet me in the gardens after dusk.”

  “I will be there.”

  The day seemed to last far longer than it ever did. The duties that Mr. Honeyfield had for me seemed far too few today, and I found myself looking out the window every chance I had.

  “Something the matter, Mr. Clarke?” Mr. Honeyfield asked me as I glanced outside yet again.

  I shook my head. “No, sir. My apologies.” I smiled and offered him his smoking jacket, which he stepped into. Mr. Honeyfield had been sharing his hopes with finding a proper suitor for his eldest at this ball they were to attend.

  “Peter is still far too young,” he said, “But I suppose it is never too early to consider suitable possibilities.”

  “Of course, sir,” I replied.

  After I adjusted his collar, he turned to face me. “Mr. Clarke, are you sure you’re alright?”

  His words seemed weighted, and he was looking at me very intently.

  Did he know? I felt my heartbeat quicken, and I clenched the cloth I had used to shine his shoes in my hand. Did he know my feelings for Miss Bannerman?

  Mr. Honeyfield was an honorable man, and I was sure that I could trust him. He had never given me any reason to doubt his trust in me; truly, he put his whole life in my hands every day, giving me the responsibilities that he didn’t trust anyone else to do. I knew all of his dealings, and understood the way the household worked even better than he did some days.

  But I had to protect Miss Bannerman. I couldn’t risk it.

  “I am, sir. Truly. Thank you for your concern.” I smiled at him. “Now, we must get you your hat, otherwise Miss Judith will surely scold me for not ensuring you wore it.”

  He studied my face for a moment, then relaxed and smiled in return. “And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” He turned and walked out of the room.

  I let out a breath as I followed him. I felt wretched for lying to him, but I reassured myself that I did it for Abigail.

  Even though deep down I know I did it for myself.

  The Honeyfield family left in a fanfare that would rival the king’s; the girls all adorned with beautiful fresh flowers and the gentlemen in fresh clothes from the tailor.

  “Goodbye, Miss Bannerman! Perhaps when I see you later this evening I will be an engaged woman!” Miss Judith said from the carriage, waving her handkerchief.

  Miss Bannerman laughed. “Perhaps you will be indeed! Enjoy yourselves!” And we waved them off as the carriage made its way down the drive, the first stars beginning to shine on the horizon.

  She and I nodded at one another before returning to our evening duties, preparing the home for when the family would return. We turned down the children’s beds, and I prepared everything Mr. Honeyfield might desire when he retired that evening.

  When everything was ready, I returned to the kitchens. The cook, Mrs. Gardener, was just finishing up her preparations for breakfast the next morning.

  “Would you, by chance, have an extra loaf of bread from lunch? And also some of that fabulous goat cheese from yesterday?”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “And why might you ask?”

  I looked around. Everyone seemed to be far more curious than I was comfortable with today.

  She smiled. “I figured as much. Here,” she reached behind her and put a basket down in front of me, full of fruits and meats and even a bottle of wine, still half full.

  I just stared at it. “How –”

  “The food is from a picnic the girls took this afternoon, what was left of it. And Mr. Honeyfield didn’t care much for that particular wine. I think he said that it reminded him too much of the Mrs.” She frowned. “If I may be so forward, you aren’t the most subtle man. It has been quite apparent to me what has been going on.” She patted my arm. “Take care of her, w
ill you? She means too much to me to see her hurt again.”

  Again? I wondered.

  She pushed the basket toward me. “Bring whatever you don’t finish back to me, and I will put it to use.”

  “Thank you,” I managed to say, incredibly touched by this gesture, unable to believe her generosity.

  She nodded. “Now get going.”

  I made my way out to the gardens and took a deep breath of the night air. It was cooler than I had expected, but the air was heavy with the rich smell of roses and lilac.

  “Mr. Clarke?” I heard. It was almost as if it was a dream, with the enchanting moonlight on the fountain, the water dancing and bubbling, and the stars bright and numerous overhead.

  “Abigail,” I said, unable to help myself.

  She smiled as she crossed the space between us. I took her hand in my free one, and I couldn’t take my eyes from her face. Her blue eyes appeared almost as silver in the moonlight, polished and perfect, and her hair like watery starlight, flowing over her shoulders. I ran my fingers through a long strand of it.

  “You are so breathtaking,” I said. “I love you.”

  “And I love you,” she replied.

  I took a deep breath to steel myself before my emotions took complete control of me, and I showed her the basket in my hands.

  “What a feast! Mr. Clarke, you spoil me,” she said.

  I smiled and I offered her my arm, which she happily accepted. We wound our way through the hedges to the edge of the gardens, where a long stretch of yard cascaded down to the edge of a wide pond. I had noticed a blanket tucked in the basket, which I pulled out and stretched out onto the silvery grass.

  As I began to pull food out, I realized that this basket was very intentionally packed. There were glasses, cutlery, and even a trimmed rose at the very bottom. It was almost as if Mrs. Gardener had known my plans, and had…helped me?

  “What an extraordinary woman,” I said under my breath.

  “What did you say?” Abigail asked me.

  I smiled at her. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud.” I showed her the bottle of wine.

  “That’s what Mr. Honeyfield was drinking with dinner yesterday,” she commented. “How did you get that?”

  I told her what Mrs. Gardener had told me. “Oh, how sad,” she replied. She looked up into the sky. “Mr. Honeyfield always has a very sad look in his eyes, wouldn’t you agree?”

  I considered her words. There certainly always seemed to be a reservation in his character towards us, but I always assumed it was simply a separation between master and butler. “Perhaps. I suppose I never knew him before he lost his wife.”

  “He was always so happy before she passed,” she said, looking at me. “Always laughing and always playing with the children.” She looked down at the blanket beneath us. “I think the children sometimes are too painful of a reminder of their mother.”

  We sat in silence for some time. I pulled out some food and we shared some easy conversation while we enjoyed the simple meal and a wonderful, dry wine. The moon continued its languid arc across the sky, the clouds passing in front of it the only suggestion that time was passing.

  “Can I share something with you?” she asked me.

  I leaned back on my hands and looked over at her.

  “Anything at all,” I replied.

  She beamed. “I have never been this happy in my entire life.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “Truly?”

  She nodded her head. “Never have I enjoyed life more than I do right now. I am excited to wake up in the mornings, I enjoy my job so much more, and I find that very little upsets me anymore. And it is all because you are in my life now.”

  Pride swelled in my chest. “I completely understand how you feel. That is exactly how I feel as well.”

  She swirled the little bit of wine that was left in her glass, examining it closely. “There’s something else I should tell you. Something I haven’t told you yet, but I think it is time that I can.”

  I sat back up straight, a flash of fear coursing through my body. “What do you mean?”

  She remained silent, and took a deep breath. “I–”

  But her words were cut off, because as soon as she started to speak, we heard footsteps behind us, and a voice cut through the darkness.

  “Mr. Clarke, Miss Bannerman!”

  We both turned, and I got to my feet as quickly as I could. Mrs. Gardener appeared from behind the hedges. I relaxed slightly, realizing how compromising this could have looked to anyone else stumbling upon us outside alone in the night.

  “Mr. Honeyfield and the children have returned. I believe that Miss Marina is all worked up about something, very upset. You should both be there to greet them inside.”

  Abigail and I glanced at each other, and then looked at the basket and the food and the blanket. I felt paralyzed suddenly, fear making my knees ache.

  “Don’t worry about the food, I’ll take care of it. But you two are needed front and center.”

  “But –” I began, feeling guilty and trapped and childish.

  “Get going, now!” she said, more forcefully. I helped Abigail to her feet, and we made our way quickly out of the gardens and back into the house.

  I allowed her to take the quicker way through the house to the foyer, while I took a different way around to avoid the appearance of walking in together. I opened the doors just in time as Mr. Honeyfield and the children approached them.

  As Mrs. Gardener had said, Miss Marina, tears streaming down her face, clutched her father’s hand.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Honeyfield,” I said, and I gestured them into the house. As soon as Marina saw Abigail standing beside the stairwell, her eyes grew wide, and she ran the distance to her.

  Abigail bent down and held the girl, whispering reassurances to her.

  The other two children came inside after Mr. Honeyfield, and I closed the door once they passed the threshold.

  Mr. Honeyfield put his hands on his hips, exhaustion evident on his face. “Apparently, a certain Mrs. Radcliffe told Miss Marina that her dress was unbecoming and her flowers were tasteless.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Ms. Henrietta said, her hand over her heart.

  He sighed, and Miss Marina sniffled.

  “Mrs. Radcliffe has consistently been rude, believing her stature within society to protect her enough and relieve her the courtesy of being civil. She has insulted me, my wife, and even my home before, but she has never stooped so low as to insult one of my children.” He stood straight in the foyer, as if he were a soldier to be given orders. He closed his eyes and seemed to brace himself.

  “I reminded her, as kindly as I could, that she had no authority to speak to my children in such a manner, and that if she had any trouble with any of them, to always bring the issue to me.” He looked at me and sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Remind me in the morning to send a formal apology to her husband. Even if she was wrong, I must be sure to not disrupt the harmony between their family and our own. I dread to think what that woman would be capable of in her bitterness.”

  I swallowed hard. I pitied Mr. Honeyfield, but only with part of me. The other part of me berated myself for my own stupidity of my actions that evening. How scandalous could it have been made to be, even if all we had done was enjoy a meal and some conversation together? Her reputation would be smeared, and it was all due to my negligence. I should have paid more attention to the time, but I had never thought that they would return as soon as they had.

  Still, that was no excuse, I told myself, as I watched Abigail soothe poor little Marina. She scooped her up in her arms, and I heard say, almost distantly, that she was going to take her up to bed.

  The other children followed her upstairs, and I watched them go.

  “What a night,” Mr. Honeyfield said. I grounded myself by clearing my throat.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Is Miss Marina going to be alright?”

  Hands on his hips, he l
ooked up the stairs after them. “I believe so. The first time that a young girl gets told off by an adult aside from a parent is always hard. However, Mrs. Radcliffe was too far out of line, and I fear that her words might scar the poor girl for the rest of her life. Forget ever attending a ball with her with that family in attendance.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I assume all is well around here tonight?”

  I nodded my head, blinking. “Yes, sir. Not a thing out of order.”

  “Good,” he replied, and smiled as he nodded his head. “Thank you, for taking care of my family, Mr. Clarke.”

  I smiled in response, perhaps a bit forcefully. I didn’t feel as if I deserved his praise. “It is my pleasure, sir.”

  I attended to him very carefully the rest of the evening, bringing him a hot cup of tea and some brandy, as well as making sure his window was open to the beautiful night air, allowing it to cool his room and hopefully help clear his mind. He thanked me, and asked me to bring him a particular book from the library.

  “I fear I won’t sleep a wink tonight,” he said, sitting himself at the edge of his bed. “Far too much of the night has passed already, and too many thoughts are clouding my mind.”

  I gave him the book he had asked for, and asked him what else I could do. As the night had progressed, I noticed Mr. Honeyfield’s distress more and more evidently. He was doing a remarkable job keeping himself calm, for I knew if anything had happened to me or any of my children that had happened to him that night, I would be far angrier and far more vocal about it. I admired his strength of character.

  “There’s nothing, Mr. Clarke. You should get some rest too. I will have need of much help come the morning.”

  And so I bid him goodnight, and made my way from his room. I hesitated outside, wondering if Abigail was still with the children. I made my way down the hall, and when I didn’t hear her soft voice through the doors, I assumed they all had fallen asleep. So I walked through the dark, silent house without meeting anyone else, until I reached her door.