by Michelle Cox
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Henrietta said to Jack and let her eyes dart to Virgil. Maybe she should try to get to know him and judge for herself, she decided.
Jack gave her a puzzled look. “Sure,” he said confusedly as he jammed the stump of his cigarette into the corner of his mouth. “Where are my manners?” he said, squinting slightly from the smoke. He stepped toward Virgil and two other men standing near him. “Miss Von Harmon,” he said, nodding toward Henrietta, “this is Virgil, one of the gardeners here. And this is Clem and Bernie. They’re gardeners, too.”
Both Clem and Bernie nodded shyly, Clem managing to mumble, “Pleased to meet you,” for them both.
“Please call me Henrietta,” she said, looking at Clem and Bernie rather than Virgil. She attempted a smile.
Virgil merely stared at her. “You’re Master Clive’s woman, aren’t you?”
“Virgil!” Edna exclaimed. “This is his fiancée!”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you didn’t!” Edna said. “Don’t pay him no mind, Miss,” Edna said to her. “He . . . he doesn’t mean to be impertinent.”
“That’s all right,” Henrietta said reassuringly. “And, yes, Virgil,” Henrietta said, looking at him squarely. “I am recently engaged to Mr. Howard.” It felt strange to call him “Mr. Howard,” as, in her mind, that title implied Clive’s father and because she had known Clive as Inspector Howard for so long.
“You’re very pretty,” he said, matter-of-factly, almost like a child.
“Thank you, Virgil,” Henrietta responded with forced politeness, and Edna could not help but turn her face away in shame. “I meant to tell you that the gardens are very beautiful,” Henrietta continued, still addressing Virgil. “I admire them very much,” she said, trying to look at all of them now in turn.
Clem and Bernie broke into smiles and looked at the ground, pleased with the compliment, but Virgil remained silent. Finally, Clem said, “Thank you, Miss. I’ll tell Mr. McCreanney. He’ll be pleased, he will.”
Henrietta smiled at him and then looked around uncomfortably, not sure what to do next. She felt it was unfair to judge Virgil because of his abrupt boorishness, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that he somehow reminded her of Larry, or Neptune, as he was called in the underworld, the man who had nearly killed her. She shivered and turned slightly away.
“Music and everything!” she said brightly to Jack and Edna, searching for something to say. “I haven’t heard any for an age . . . and I adore this song!” she said, hearing Fred Astaire sing “Night and Day” and spotting the phonograph in the corner. “Where did you get it?”
“It’s Jack’s,” Edna said, looking up at him, admiringly, and visibly grateful for the change of subject. “He brought it with him when he came.”
“Ah . . . an uncle gave it to me,” he said quickly. “Always givin’ me things,” he added. “Be right back!” he said and slipped over to the corner to whisper something to the young boy Henrietta had seen doing odd jobs around the estate and who now sat happily on a stool near the phonograph changing the records.
“It’s a lovely party, Edna,” Henrietta said.
“Thanks, Miss! It is, isn’t it?” Edna said, a permanent smile on her flushed face.
Jack strode up to them again. Paul Whiteman’s “Something Had to Happen” was playing now, apparently a result of his whispered direction to the boy. “Come on, Edna, let’s us dance!”
“Well, I’m not sure,” Edna said, looking at Henrietta as if for approval. With a smile, Henrietta shooed her away with her free hand while she took a sip of her cherry wine. It was nothing like the aged wines she had had since meeting Clive but pleasant just the same. Hesitantly, Edna took Jack’s hand, and he led her to the center of the floor. Other couples joined in, then, including Clem and Bernie, who made a beeline for Kitty and another maid, Bridget, both of whom had been standing in a corner, laughing and whispering.
Left alone now, Henrietta wanted to turn and see Virgil’s reaction to Edna dancing with Jack, but she didn’t dare. She was surprised then when Virgil suddenly pushed his way past her and tapped Jack on the shoulder just as the song was finishing and “Blue Moon” by Dick Robertson was starting up. Henrietta saw Jack give him an irritated look before reluctantly handing Edna over to him. For her part, Edna gave Jack a fleeting look as he walked toward the corner where James stood drinking from a flask, before giving her polite attention to the hungry Virgil. Edna was clearly not repulsed by him and seemed, according to some of her comments in the kitchen, to feel almost sorry for him. Or was there something more there? Henrietta wondered. Perhaps she couldn’t decide whom she liked better, though Henrietta thought it an easy choice. She stood trying to study Edna’s face for a clue as Virgil awkwardly danced with her, all the while staring at her as if he wanted to devour her. Again, an image of Larry came into her mind, and she shuddered and turned away.
“Would you like to dance, Miss?” came a voice beside her, causing her to jump. She turned and was surprised to see that it was Jack; he had somehow made his way over to her without her even noticing. “Or is that wrong of me? To ask you, I mean. I just thought you might feel left out, is all.”
Henrietta smiled. It had been a long time since she had danced, and she admitted that she felt like it. But should she?
“I can see you think it’s wrong. Sorry,” Jack said genuinely.
“No, I . . . I was just thinking. No, I’d like to dance. Why not?” she said, smiling, not wanting to hurt his feelings or to appear too superior. A polka was playing now as he led her out to the makeshift dance floor by the side of the parked Mercedes. She held out her arms to him, careful to keep a distance between them as they stepped into the rhythm.
“Say, you’re pretty good!” Jack said smoothly. “You could be a dancer, you could.”
Henrietta laughed. “Think so?”
“Where’d you learn?”
“Oh, here and there. Let’s just say, I had a lot of practice.”
There was a moment of silence then before he asked, “Having a good time?”
“I am. Thank you. It’s just what I needed.” She smiled gratefully. “Edna seems happy,” Henrietta said, nodding toward the spot where she was now dancing with Clem. Virgil, she noticed, was back to sulking in the shadows.
“She’s swell, isn’t she?” Jack said, but it seemed to Henrietta that it lacked any real feeling.
“She’s very pretty,” Henrietta tried to encourage him.
“That she is! Sweet, too.”
“Do you think she enjoys Virgil’s attentions?” Henrietta asked coyly.
“I certainly hope not, but I mean to find out.”
Henrietta didn’t know what to make of his comments, so she remained silent until the dance ended. The polka had been very fast, and Jack had really spun her. He was flushed now, and as they stopped, his face was very close to hers and Henrietta thought she saw what she had seen so many times in men’s eyes. His growing attraction was obvious to her, and she offered up a silent prayer of thanks that her own feelings did not match his. “Thank you, Mr. Fletcher,” she said smiling falsely at him and feeling an actual ache in her stomach for Clive as she took a step back. She regretted coming now. It had been a mistake.
“Perhaps we should have presents now!” she said loudly in Edna’s direction, who had meanwhile been standing off to the side, watching wide-eyed the exchange between her and Jack, as had several of the other servants. Henrietta was aware of many eyes on her and hated the fact that Mrs. Howard’s words were ringing in her ear again about the dangers of familiarity.
“Yes!” said Jack, following suit, and a little crowd gathered around Edna as she shyly faced the little pile of gifts that had been placed randomly on one of the oil-stained workbenches. Bashfully, Edna reached for one and proceeded to open it and then the next one, everyone exclaiming over each one as she worked her way through them all. Kitty and Bridget had gone together and gotten he
r new handkerchiefs, and the scullery maids had gotten her a small box of chocolate. Clem and Bernie had brought some flowers from the garden, with Mr. McCreanney’s permission, they assured her, and Jack had given her a new hair ribbon. Edna had been delighted with all of the gifts and had shyly thanked each person. Though Henrietta had been the one to divert attention to the gifts, she decided on the spur of the moment not to give her the pin in front of everyone, as it would make everyone else’s seem mean in comparison. As she stood thinking of how she could give it to her without anyone else noticing, Virgil made his way forward and thrust a tiny box into Edna’s hands.
“Here you are,” he said sullenly.
Edna blushed and smiled. “Thank you, Virgil,” she murmured. She fumbled a bit, nervous, before she finally got the tiny box opened. Carefully she peered inside and let out a gasp. “Oh, Virgil! It’s beautiful! Oh, my! I’m sure this cost a fortune! You shouldn’t have!”
Everyone was straining to see what the box contained, and when Henrietta finally got to look, she let out a gasp of horror. Inside the box lay what looked to be a very old ring with a large pearl surrounded by a spray of amethysts. It was Helen’s ring! She was sure of it.
“What’s this mean, ole Virg?” snickered Clem. “Weddin’ bells, is it?” he said, poking Virgil with his elbow, but Virgil, irritated, gave him a little shove.
“Ooh!” giggled Bridget, standing near Edna, now. “Maybe it is!”
Edna ignored them and seemed only focused on Henrietta’s strained features, as she, too, stared at the ring. “What is it, Miss?” Edna asked fearfully.
Henrietta did not answer at first and merely looked at Virgil, who was still looking at Edna, apparently unaware that anything was wrong. “Virgil, where . . . where did you get this?” Henrietta asked him.
“That’s only for me to know,” he said surlily. “Don’t much matter where I got it from, just that I did, like.”
“For shame, Virgil!” one of the scullery maids gasped. “Speaking to Miss that way!”
“What’s wrong, Miss?” Edna asked again.
Henrietta looked from Edna to Jack and realized that everyone was waiting for her answer. She couldn’t possibly explain it in front of them all. “I . . . it’s nothing. I . . . it looked like something else, something someone had . . .” she was about to say “lost” but thought better of it. “I . . . I think I just need some air. I’ll just slip out for a moment,” she smiled, not wanting to ruin the party. “Put another song on!” she suggested, though her voice was strained. Thankfully the odd-jobs boy obliged, and after only a few moments of hesitation as he quickly looked through the stack, he put on Al Bowlly’s “The Very Thought of You.”
Gingerly Henrietta squeezed past the servants who were standing near Edna now, admiring her new things. She glared at Virgil as she passed him, but he seemed unaware of her scrutiny. She opened the door of the garage and was relieved that the air had cooled a bit, bringing some much-needed relief after the stuffy, smoky air in the garage. She leaned against the side of the Daimler, wondering what she should do. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? So Helen had been right all along . . . Virgil had taken it, and now she had proof! But what should she do about it?
She felt vulnerable suddenly and wanted very much to return to the safety of the house. It must be well past eleven by now, and, looking up at the big house, she saw that it was mostly dark. She decided not to go back in to say goodbye as she felt it might be a signal to them to disperse, and she had no wish to interrupt their festivities.
“Are you all right?” said a voice nearby. She jumped and saw that Jack had magically appeared yet again. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, I think I’m going to go back up to the house.” She tried to smile. “You know . . . before I’m found out,” she said, smoothing down her skirt. As she did so, she felt her present for Edna in her pocket. She took it out and held it tightly in her hand.
“Are you sure? We have more to drink than the cherry wine, if that’s the issue.”
Henrietta smiled. “No. Thanks, though. I’m quite all right.”
“Well, come say goodbye, then . . .” he said, gesturing back toward the door, seeming almost desperate to get her back in.
“No, honestly. I don’t want them to think they have to leave, too. I really am just very tired. Would you see that Edna gets this?” she asked, placing the wrapped hairpin in his hand. As she did so, he held her hand for a few more moments than seemed to be necessary.
“Course I will,” he said quietly.
Henrietta gently pulled her hand from his. “Good night, then.” She smiled feebly.
“Let me . . . let me walk you back to the house. It’s awfully dark,” he urged.
Henrietta hated to admit it, but ever since her ordeal with Neptune and his thugs, she was actually still jumpy to be out alone after dark, the fact of which irritated her, as she had never been afraid before. It was something Neptune had taken from her, and she resented it. “Well, maybe part of the way,” she said reluctantly. She was glad to have someone to walk with, but she wondered if it was wise to be alone with him after what she had recognized in his eyes as they danced. “Are you sure you want to leave the party? You might miss your chance with Edna, you know,” she said and couldn’t help a tiny smile from escaping.
“You mean because of Virgil?” he scoffed as he held out his arm to her, and she took it. They began walking up the drive. “Though I will say he’s more serious than I imagined,” Jack said after a thoughtful pause. “What do you make of that fancy piece he got her? You seemed upset . . . is it because you think it too much?”
“Well, no, not that exactly,” Henrietta said, wondering if she should confide in him. He was so easy to talk to . . . “It’s just that it looks very similar to a ring that Helen . . . do you know Helen? Helen Schuyler?” she asked, looking up at him questioningly. “She lives in that little cottage down along the beach path? She helps in the kitchens sometimes, I understand.”
“Oh, yeah . . . her? I’ve heard of her. Never met her yet, though. They say she’s crazy.”
“Well, confused perhaps, but I don’t think she’s crazy. She lost a ring, and she’s terribly upset about it. I was passing by the first day I arrived, and I helped her look for it.”
“Maybe she lost it, and Virgil found it. That would explain how he could give her something so expensive on his pittance of a wage . . . no offense, like, Miss.”
“Maybe,” Henrietta mused, choosing to ignore his disgruntled comment. “But that’s not the only thing,” she said more eagerly now, glad to have someone to work her theory out with. “Helen swears that Virgil stole it!” she whispered.
“Stole it? How does she know?” He seemed intrigued.
“She says she’s seen him lurking around her place and that she’s heard him scratching at the walls of her cottage at night.”
“Scratching? That’s odd.”
“That’s what I thought.” She shivered again. “It gives me the creeps!”
“Hmmm. Well, that’s a strange tale. Think we should tell anyone?”
“I tried telling Billings, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“You told Billings?”
“Well, part of it, but he all but threw me out of his little pantry.”
“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that!” he said, looking at her approvingly. “Even I’d be scared to tell Billings that!”
Henrietta laughed outright and was surprised by how good it felt. It seemed like she hadn’t done so in a long, long time.
“You should have seen your face when she opened it!” Jack smiled, encouraged by her laugh. “I thought you were going to keel over right there in the garage!”
“Yes, I suppose I did look rather silly.” She laughed again, partially embarrassed now by the evening’s antics.
“What was silly?” asked a deep, resonant voice. Startled, Henrietta looked up and saw none other than Clive standing in the drive right in front of
them! His eyes were trained on Jack, who quickly withdrew his arm from Henrietta’s grasp.
“Clive!” Henrietta said, giving a squeal of delight and throwing her arms around him. “Why didn’t you say you were coming after all? I would have waited up for you!” She was so thrilled to see him that tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and she couldn’t stop smiling.
“But you are up, darling, aren’t you?” he said pointedly, his voice oddly quiet.
Confused, Henrietta released him and took a step back.
“You have a previous engagement, it would seem,” he said, his eyes traveling to the stables and quickly back to Jack. “And you are?”
“Fletcher, sir. Jack Fletcher. I’m the new chauffer.”
His eyes lingered on Jack as if he were trying to place him. “Have I met you before?” he finally asked.
“No, sir. I don’t think so, sir,” he said, looking away.
“I’ll take it from here, Fletcher,” he said icily. “Thank you for seeing Miss Von Harmon safely home.”
“Yes, sir. Good night, sir,” Jack said and turned quickly back toward the stables.
“Thanks, Jack!” Henrietta called out as he hurried off. “Oh, Clive!” she said excitedly, turning toward him now, “I’m so happy you’re here! I . . .” The stony look on his face, however, gave her pause.
“Jack, is it?” he said evenly.
“I mean Fletcher,” she said gingerly, the thought dawning on her that perhaps he shared his mother’s opinion regarding the servants. If that were the case, he would certainly not approve of the party she had just been to, she reasoned, though she had originally thought he would find it amusing to hear about. She saw by his face that she was probably mistaken.
“May I ask what you were doing in the stables?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.
“Well, I was . . . just that . . . I was at a birthday party, if you must know,” she said with an air of defiance.