A Prince for Aunt Hetty

by Kimberly Truesdale

  Agatha finally relented and winked at them. “Oh, go on, girls. She is your only aunt, after all.” Relieved to have their freedom, Vanessa, Margaret, Agnes, and Harriet barreled toward Hetty and nearly crushed her with hugs and kisses. They were all in a giggly heap.

  Finally, Agatha stepped in. She clapped her hands to get their attention and announced, “Let your aunt get inside. She has had quite an adventure getting here and she needs something warm to drink. Let's go.”

  In a swirl of excited children, Hetty was ushered to the drawing room where the oldest, Vanessa – a blonde-haired beauty of twelve – poured Hetty a cup of delicious tea. She managed to sip it slowly while the children vied for her attention. It had suddenly become necessary for each one of them to tell her all the wonderful things that had happened since the last time they'd seen her. It was a glorious rush of action and speech after her many days of forced inaction and silence while she traveled.

  “I thought I heard some commotion in here,” came a commanding voice from the doorway.

  “Papa!” The children yelled and toward him.

  Jonathan Hayes was a charming and handsome man of forty-five years. He and Agatha had met in London nearly twenty years before, when Agatha had inadvertently sat on him during a party. She hadn't been paying attention and assumed the chair behind her was free. Instead of blushing and running away, as a young society miss would have upon discovering her mistake, Agatha had laughed loudly and insisted he give her a boost out of the chair. They'd been nearly inseparable ever since. And they'd been blessed with six healthy children whom they loved dearly. Hetty was glad for her sister's good luck. Between Agatha's dowry and Jonathan's inheritance, they had an easy life. What was even more, they loved each other and their children. Sometimes Hetty was quite envious of them.

  “Hello, Jonathan.” Hetty began to rise.

  “Hello, Hetty. Don't get up.” He grinned as he tried to walk forward with the children hanging on him.

  “You have some extra baggage there,” Hetty pointed out.

  “I do. I would like to get rid of it,” Jonathan teased as he playfully shook the children off. “It seems I sometimes get mistaken for a tree.”

  He finally made his way to the sofa where she was sitting and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

  “Welcome back, Hetty,” he sat down. “How was the journey?”

  “Relatively quiet, apart from the wheel we broke about three miles away from your front door.”

  Her brother-in-law looked concerned. “Is it taken care of?”

  “I believe Agatha is dispatching your coachman at the moment.”

  “And I believe you had a sick maid in tow? Is she with you?”

  “I do, indeed, but I left her wrapped up in blankets in the carriage. The poor girl is ill yet she insisted on coming with me. But I couldn't make her walk in her state.” Hetty hoped Annabella was warm enough. She must put her straight to bed when she arrived.

  “So you walked here?” Jonathan was partially distracted by the children who had commenced climbing on him again.

  The two older girls were edging closer to their aunt as she spoke. “I started to walk and then nearly fell in the mud.” Hetty noticed their eyes go wide and decided to embellish her tale. “But I was rescued by a man on a beautiful white horse!”

  The children's eyes grew even wider. “Like a prince?” Little Harriet, her namesake and a wide-eyed nine year old, sighed heavily at the delightful thought.

  “Of course not, silly,” little Harriet's older – and, therefore, very much wiser – sister Margaret explained. “There are no princes here.”

  Hetty huffed in protest. “No princes? Then who picked me up out of the mud?” The children began to argue the point, the older girls saying that princes didn't exist and the younger ones insisting that they did.

  Jonathan laughed and turned to Hetty. “I assume your trunks are coming with the carriage, so is there anything you need in the meanwhile?”

  “I'm fine, thank you.”

  He relaxed into a chair near her and watched his children play. “As you can see, the little hellions have been waiting for you all day. They were very excited to hear that their favorite aunt was coming to visit them.”

  “Their only aunt,” Hetty smiled.

  “Still their favorite, though. And Agatha has arranged to have you all to ourselves tonight. So once your trunks are here, we'll get you settled and have a nice family dinner together. And you can tell us all about this prince who rescued you!”

  “You could probably tell me more about him than I can tell you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, it was your neighbor, Mr. Henderson...”

  “Oh, yes. Henderson,” Jonathan nodded. The children perked up at the name.

  “He lives in the castle!” exclaimed Agnes, a plump and ruddy ten-year-old. She ran to her Aunt Hetty and climbed into her lap.

  “The castle?” Hetty asked, surprised.

  “It's their nickname for the old Armstrong estate. Thanks to all the story books you keep sending us, they have populated the village and surrounding areas with all kinds of fanciful names and creatures.”

  “No dragons, I hope!” Hetty laughed.

  “I seen a dragon yesterday!” yelled Stephen.

  “Did not,” Margaret rolled her eyes at her little brother.

  “Did so. He breathed fire all over me.”

  “That was Mrs. Ames' dog, stupid. It was cold and his breath was steaming.” Margaret rolled her eyes again. Hetty had forgotten how exasperated girls could get with their brothers. She leaned to kiss Agnes' cheek in order to hide her smile.

  “Stephen, you shall have to show me this dragon sometime while I'm here.” Hetty knew that Margaret would forgive her. But being a young boy in the face of four older – and, therefore, wiser, as they enjoyed reminding him – sisters could be a hard job. Stephen beamed at her and came to stand close. Hetty smiled over his head at Jonathan. He mouthed the words “thank you” and gave her a smile.

  “Anyway, tell me about this castle!” Hetty changed the subject to avoid any further damaged feelings.

  “They started to call it that when they discovered that it has a hedge maze in the front and those turrets on either side.” Jonathan informed her.

  “Ah,” Hetty nodded. “A good indication of a castle.” She tried to picture the Armstrong house in her head, but it had been many years since she'd been over that way.

  “Hasn't the house been vacant for years now?”

  “It was. But Henderson leased it now... oh... about nine months ago.”

  “That is unexpected.”

  “It was. Word got around the village that we had a new neighbor all the way from London. I rode over one day to say hello and discovered Henderson.”

  “Discovered him? Like an explorer in a new world?” Hetty laughed.

  “Not quite. Though he has been nearly as surprising as a discovery of that kind.”

  “Oh?” Hetty was intrigued. Not many people moved into or out of the neighborhood. It had remained the same for all the years that she had known it.

  “He's a very interesting man, but I still do not know much about him.”

  “He came from London, you say?” Hetty grew even more curious.

  “Yes, but he won't say where. I rather thought you might know who he is.”

  Hetty racked her brain. For all her years in the city and for all the balls she had ever attended, she did not remember Mr. Henderson's name or his face.

  “I believe I have never met him until today. If I have, I do not remember him.” Hetty chewed her lip in concentration, still trying to recall if she had ever even heard the name Rupert Henderson.

  Jonathan shrugged, clearly not bothered to solve the mystery. “Oh well. He's a nice enough fellow and we're forgiving. If he does have a past, he's left it behind and started something new here.”

  “Does he have a family in that big house?”

  “I don't believe so,�
� Jonathan answered. “I've never seen anyone there but him. He certainly doesn't have a wife, if that's what you're really asking.” He grinned at her.

  Hetty laughed to cover the embarrassment she felt. She had been thinking about that.

  “He is a kind man, though,” Jonathan added.

  “Oh?”

  Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Oh, let me tell you. The children decided to go and explore the castle one afternoon about a month ago. They made it all the way there, but by then the boys were too tired. Apparently, Henderson's butler discovered them at the entrance of the maze nearly killing each other fighting and kindly took them into the house. Henderson fed them and brought them back here in his carriage. The children absolutely adore him now. Don't you?” Jonathan began to wrestle with Vincent, who had climbed into his lap while he was speaking.

  Agatha entered at that moment, all bustling worry. She calmed when she saw the peaceful scene before her.

  “Hetty told you about the carriage?” She asked her husband. He nodded. “It's all being fixed now. Lucky Mr. Henderson was there to pick you up and bring you to us.”

  “Yes, very lucky.” Hetty smiled. “I think...”

  Chapter Two

  EACH TIME RUPERT returned from London, he grew more grateful for the quiet and solitude of his country estate. The tempo of life in the city exhausted him, though it had never been that way in his youth. For most of his life, he'd loved being elbow-to-elbow with all kinds of people, hearing their noise and knowing that all the world could offer was at his fingertips. Everything except the quiet he now craved, that is.

  Over the past nine months of his retirement in the country, Rupert had grown fond of the wide spaces around him. Here, he had room to spread out. And, if he wished, he could spend days at a time not seeing anyone apart from his few servants. Here he might do his work and not be disturbed. Unless, of course, he received yet another urgent plea to return to London.

  Rupert dismounted and handed Lady's reins to one of his grooms. “Pamper her, please,” he said as he patted the beautiful white mare. The young man nodded and led her away.

  Even after the hard day of travel, he found the quiet, still, winter cold of his own house refreshing.

  “Good journey, sir?” Rupert's butler asked.

  “Not too hard. The weather held.”

  “Very good, sir. Do you require anything?”

  “I don't think so, Adams. Thank you.”

  Mr. Adams gave a little bow and turned to go in.

  “Oh, Mr. Adams?” Rupert stopped him.

  “Sir?”

  “I think I'll go for a walk. I feel the need to stretch my legs after sitting in that saddle for so long. My old bones are beginning to creak.”

  “Shall I have dinner ready when you return?” The butler suggested.

  “Excellent idea, Adams. And make sure that delicious port is on the table.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  He'd been lucky to find good local people to run his house. After all, what did he know about keeping a household going? He hadn't exactly been born to it. Besides, it had made him some friends in the village.

  For a moment, Rupert stood near his own front door and surveyed the yard in front of him. My house. He still enjoyed the sound of that. He'd had his pick of houses, but this one had sparked his imagination. The gardens had been particularly stunning in the light of the late summertime. Even now the dreary winter landscape had its charms.

  The most charming thing about the house, though, was the hedge maze directly in front. He'd loved it on first sight, though it did seem a very silly thing for a grown man to enjoy. But no one was here to judge him. He was finally at a point in his life when he could make all of his own choices. Such freedom was a heady thing.

  Taking a deep breath of the brisk air, Rupert set out toward the woods beyond his garden. It was a familiar walk, one that he liked especially when he needed a little measure of inspiration. At this time of the year the trees were bare and nearly black in the pale light of the winter afternoon. Their spindly branches stretched into ragged and irregular nets over his head. He must remember how they looked.

  As he walked, Rupert let all the strain of his few days in London leak slowly out of him. He listened to the snapping of twigs underneath his feet and smelled the damp ground. They'd had no snow as of yet, but he could feel it gathering in the air.

  He was wondering how the snow would change the landscape when something caught his eye. He bent to examine it. A woman's glove! Finely tailored. More fine than belonged in the country. Who could it belong to? And why was it here in the woods?

  As Rupert grasped the small thing between his fingers, he was startled by a loud shriek somewhere nearby. His heart pounded in fright, and he braced himself to fight. When no one appeared, he began shoving through the forest, pushing low-hanging branches out of the way and stumbling over concealed roots. A shriek rang out again. He considered finding a weapon, something to threaten an attacker, but he didn't want to slow his pace.

  He took a few more steps and burst into a clearing.

  Then froze.

  He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he saw. When his breathing slowed and his mind cleared of fear, Rupert nearly laughed out loud.

  Children.

  It was children playing. Not someone in trouble, but the neighbor children shrieking and laughing as they played a rousing game of Blind Man's Buff.

  They were running around merrily, shrieking and happily taunting the woman trying to tag them.

  She was laughing just as much as the children were. The scene sent an unexpected dagger of regret slicing through him. His life had been mostly work from the time he was very young. He had achieved success, but it had been at the expense of running through the woods laughing with such freedom as he now saw before him.

  “Aunt Hetty!” One of the girls yelled. “Look!”

  The game came to an abrupt halt. Rupert stepped further into the clearing just as the woman, knowing something was wrong by the way the girl had yelled, whipped off the blindfold and spun around to see what was causing the alarm.

  Rupert was met with a set of piercing blue eyes that first narrowed on him and then relaxed. Rupert relaxed too as he recognized the woman as the one he had rescued from a walk in the mud a few days before.

  “Mr. Henderson.”

  He bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Miss Masters.”

  “You live in the castle!” declared the youngest boy. Rupert couldn't remember his name.

  “The castle?” Rupert's eyebrows knit in confusion. He didn't live in a castle anymore. How could the little boy know? Where had he heard that? He was sure no one here knew anything about him.

  Miss Masters laughed. “They call Armstrong house 'the castle' because of the hedge maze out in the front. They think it is some kind of fairy tale.”

  Rupert looked at the children, who were all paying close attention to the grown-ups. Rupert leaned down to the littlest one, who had been carefully inching toward him as they spoke. “Would you like to come visit the castle sometime?” The little boy's eyes went wide. He looked back to Miss Masters.

  “Can we, auntie?”

  Auntie. Yes, Rupert remembered now. She had told him she was aunt to the Hayes' children. He thought he could see the resemblance to the lady of the house, though Miss Masters was a bit taller than her sister. And maybe a few years older. But she was clearly still youthful in attitude and Rupert liked the way her eyes sparkled as she answered the boy's question.

  “We will have to ask your mother and father before we can say yes, Stephen.” The boy looked disappointed.

  The second boy, not much bigger than his brother, chimed in. “Can Mr. Henderson play, Aunt Hetty?”

  Miss Masters leaned down and spoke directly to the child. “I am not sure if he can play with us, Vincent, but I will leave it up to you to ask him.” She gestured toward Rupert, who waited patiently. He could see this was some kind of lesson for the boy
.

  The little boy set his face to his purpose and marched courageously over to Rupert. Rupert pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. He had seen messengers enter rooms to address lords and ladies with less pomp than the little boy approached him with now.

  “Mr. Henderson, will you play with us?” The boy gazed up at him while Rupert pretended to seriously consider his offer. He looked over the boy's head and exchanged a glance with Miss Masters. Each time he looked at her, he liked her more. Her smile at him now seemed especially inviting.

  “Hmm... would you all like it if I played?” He looked at the other children who nodded their heads vigorously.

  “On one condition...” There was silence as they waited. “I get to be It.”

  “Yes!” Vincent exclaimed and ran to Miss Masters for the blindfold she held in her hand.

  “Are you sure?” She asked Rupert. “You do not have to oblige the children.”

  “Of course. But I've never played this game, so it seems only fair that I get to be It.” Vincent had returned to him with the blindfold. “You all must tell me the rules!”

  The children crowded around him, all explaining at once how the game worked and that they would run around the clearing and he had to try to catch them.

  “And what happens when I catch you?”

  “Then we're out,” stated the oldest girl. Her tone told him he had asked just about the stupidest question she had ever heard.

  “And you promise you won't try to trick me?” Rupert asked.

  “Of course not!” Two of the girls giggled.

  Rupert looked at Miss Masters. “Will you play?”

  “Yes, Aunt Hetty, play with us!” shouted the youngest of the girls before Miss Masters could utter a word.

  She shrugged. “All right now, children, let's spread out and see who wins.”

  Rupert put the blindfold on as the children scattered across the clearing. When the cloth was secured around his head, he called out. “Hello? Where is everyone?”

  They began to call out and Rupert lunged after them. Their delighted squeals when he almost caught them made him laugh until he was out of breath. He paused to listen carefully.