Hetty bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Fair play to Vanessa. Hetty wondered if Agatha could see just how much her oldest daughter resembled her mother at that same age. Of course, Agatha had been the youngest where Vanessa was the oldest. But they both had a sense that they were owed something. And neither would let it go without at least making a good case for it.
“I see a problem with this invitation,” Agatha shook her head sadly. “I have too much work to do after the preparations of yesterday.”
“And I do, too,” Jonathan agreed.
All eyes turned to Aunt Hetty, the only other adult in the room. She had been named specifically, after all.
“So your entire happiness in life now rests on me, I suppose?” Hetty teased. She already knew her answer would be yes, but it was so much fun to tease the children. Besides, she was just as curious as they were to explore the castle and to perhaps get to know the “resident beast” a little more.
Hetty watched the children. From oldest to youngest, they were all giving her their most pitiful looks, as if to say that they were the most deprived children in the world who had never had any treats at all and their dearest aunt could give them one truly delightful afternoon before they had to return to their normal life of drudgery. It was too much. Hetty giggled. That started the girls giggling. Then everyone joined in.
“Of course, you silly children, I would be happy to accompany you.” They rushed to her and clung to every limb. Hetty thought they might have hoisted her on their shoulders and paraded around the house if they had been bigger.
“Hetty, once the children leave you alone for a moment, would you pen a brief response to Mr. Henderson? You're already there near the writing supplies anyway. Tell him the children will come only if he agrees to come to dinner here tomorrow night.”
“Of course, Agatha. Annabella, would you like to come to?” Hetty thought it might be a nice treat for the girl after being house bound with her illness.
“Oh no, madam,” Annabella protested. “I will be quite happy to stay here and help with the mending.”
“Excellent,” Agatha smiled. “Then, children, you shall have your treat. Make sure to thank your aunt. And make sure you thank Mr. Henderson when you see him. He is a very kind man for thinking of you.”
The children agreed and squeezed their beloved aunt tighter.
Chapter Six
“IS EVERYONE BUNDLED up tightly?” Hetty surveyed her nieces and nephews, checking for coats, hats, scarves, and gloves. The air was cold with the feel of snow which had not yet broken.
Hetty knelt down to help Vincent with his heavy scarf. He protested. “It's either the scarf or you stay here while we go.” The young boy reluctantly submitted to the indignity.
With winter kits all in place, they struck out for the castle. The boys ran ahead of them, whooping with glee.
“Aunt Hetty, have you ever seen a real castle?” Margaret asked.
“I have, indeed,” Hetty confirmed.
The girl's eyes went wide. “You have? What was it like?”
Hetty described the castles in London, telling the girls – the boys had already run well ahead of them by now – about how the castles looked and what she had heard that lords and ladies did in the king's court.
“Have you ever met the King?” Agnes asked, her eyes as wide as her sister's.
“No, I have not had that privilege. I do not have any special title to be able to meet him. But I have seen him from a distance. That was before he was king, though, back when he was just a prince.”
“So is Mr. Henderson a prince because he lives in a castle?” young Harriet asked.
“It's not a real castle, silly,” Vanessa chided her sister. Harriet looked hurt, so Hetty stepped in.
“Princes can live anywhere they want to, Harriet,” she reassured the young girl. “I do not know if we shall meet a prince at Mr. Henderson's house. Perhaps he has one hidden away somewhere. We shall have to keep our eyes open.”
“So what makes a prince, if it's not because he lives in a castle?” Harriet pursued.
“Hmm... well, a prince is the son of a king or a queen. But I think a prince is any man who acts in a gentlemanly way. A man is a prince if he cares about someone besides himself and tries his best to help all people.”
Harriet seemed to be satisfied with this explanation and drifted on ahead, lost in her own daydreams. Hetty had a little pang of regret. Maybe she did tell the children too many fairy tales. By the broad definition she had just given, Harriet might believe there were many more princes in the world than there actually were. The poor girl might even fall for a man like Barry Dungworth as Hetty had all those years ago... He had seemed like a prince at the house party they'd been at but then he'd disappeared in a very unprincely way. Hetty's embarrassment still haunted her.
“We're here! We're here!” She heard the boys shout from far ahead of them. Hetty hurried to catch them up, but the boys were already running across the yard and toward the front door.
Hetty paused for a moment to take in the sight. It had been years since she'd been here. The Armstrongs had moved out at least five years before, choosing to stay mostly in the smaller resort towns. It had been bruited about that they were forced to retrench due to some bad investments, though Hetty had never heard anything substantial. In any case, the house had been empty, so she'd had no occasion to visit.
The house was beautiful and nearly twice the size of Hayes house. There were small turrets at either end that made the castle comparison even more apt. But what really drew the eye, even in the winter with all the green leached out of the foliage, was the well-kept hedge maze in front of the house. It rose to the height of her shoulder and towered over the younger children. She could already hear their delighted gasps as they saw it.
Mr. Henderson must have seen – or probably heard – them coming. He was waiting in front of the doors to welcome them.
“Hello Hayes children!” He boomed out. His voice carried even to where Hetty had stopped. She watched as he knelt down to the boys who had run straight toward him and asked them something she could not hear. Both boys shook their heads vigorously.
Mr. Henderson rose again to welcome the girls. He took them each by the hand and raised it to his lips. Hetty couldn't help her smile. The girls had no experience with courtly manners and she was sure the gesture would be discussed for many weeks to come. Being kissed on the hand by a gentleman for the first time was certainly a big moment in a young lady's life.
As he finished with them, Hetty arrived. He turned to her with humor in his eyes.
“Miss Masters,” he said. “Thank you for bringing the children here this afternoon.”
Hetty smiled at him. “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Henderson.”
“Oh, you all must call me Rupert now that you are in my home,” he insisted.
Hetty acknowledged the familiarity. “Then by that same rule, you must call me Hetty.”
“I would be happy to do so, Hetty.” His smile deepened.
Her cheeks heated and awareness of his gaze raced over her skin. “Thank you, Rupert.”
The young boys were dancing where they stood, waiting for the adults to be finished with their boring introductions. Rupert seemed to realize it, too, because amusement and mischief suddenly sparked in his eyes. He raised his eyebrows as if to recruit her to whatever he had planned.
“So, you have walked all this way. I think you must be in need of a rest... perhaps a... nap? Am I right, Miss --” he caught himself, “Hetty?”
The children all looked stricken. Hetty barely kept herself from smiling as she played along. “Oh yes,” she feigned a yawn. “I am quite tired. I think we should all lay down for at least... oh... an hour or two of rest.”
That was too much for them to take. “No!” Stephen wailed. “We should play!”
“I hate naps,” pouted little Harriet.
Vincent simply ran away toward the opening of the maze.
&nb
sp; “Children!” Hetty could no longer contain her laughter. “We were just having a little fun with you.”
“Indeed,” Rupert chimed in. “No naps for us! Instead, I think there is a prize for the first child who makes it through the maze and comes right back to this spot.”
“Without cheating and without fighting,” Hetty qualified. Even with these prohibitions, their eyes were alight.
“What is the prize?” Margaret asked.
“Hmmm... Perhaps an extra piece of cake later?” Rupert suggested.
“What kind?” Margaret wanted to know.
“Well, I asked cook to make four different kinds, so I think an extra piece of one or the other might be satisfactory, do you think?” Rupert spoke seriously to her.
“Yes, I think that will be all right.”
“Excellent! So here are the rules: the first one to come back to this spot after going through the whole maze will get the prize. However,” Rupert looked at Hetty, “as your aunt has said, there is to be no fighting and no cheating. If we catch you doing anything to hurt someone else, your aunt and I will disqualify you. Understood?” The children nodded. “Now, everyone nine years of age and under come stand by me.” Rupert moved a few steps toward the maze and young Harriet, Vincent, and Stephen followed.
“Hey! Why do they get to be up there?” protested Agnes who was just outside of the age limit.
“Because they are younger and need a head start on you,” Rupert reasoned. “You three stay there by your aunt until I say go.” The girls grudgingly stayed, but that piece of cake prize was too good to pass up.
Once they were in position, Rupert yelled “go” and the children all scrambled for the entrance. Hetty laughed at their shrieks and whoops as they tried to make their way through the maze. Rupert stepped back to where she was and they watched the hedges shake with the impact of bodies running into wrong turns.
“Do you think my hedges will withstand the onslaught?” Rupert asked with laughter in his voice.
Hetty chuckled. “I am more worried about how the children will fare. They can be ruthless beasts when cake is on the line.”
“Most people are,” he said seriously.
“They are?”
“Oh yes. Who wouldn't fight for a delicious piece of cake?” He turned to her and cracked a smile.
“True, I have seen many a fine lady turn into a jealous mess when another lady has taken the last of the sandwiches.”
“Absolute beasts,” Rupert winked at her. “You know I once saw a woman smack her daughter's hand in order to have the last biscuit on the plate.”
“Not seriously?” Hetty couldn't believe it.
“Quite seriously. I expect if the mother had seen the way her daughter stared daggers at her, she might have kept her eyes open while she slept that evening.”
“Oh my,” Hetty laughed. “I think we are all silly creatures when it comes to our stomachs.”
“I completely agree.”
At that moment, Margaret came tearing out of the maze, running full tilt for where Rupert and Hetty were standing. Agnes was just one step behind her. Both were giggling so much they couldn't run straight. The other children weren't far behind.
“I win! The cake is mine!” Margaret yelled as she reached Rupert's side. She danced breathlessly as her brothers and sisters all caught up with her. Hetty could see the disappointment on their faces. She sensed a mutiny about to happen.
Before she could say anything, Rupert spoke. “Well done, Margaret! But now I think we need another contest. Maybe partners this time?” The mutinous mood lightened immediately.
For a few minutes, they were all intent on the task of dividing into pairs. Rupert hoisted the littlest, Stephen, on his shoulders and bounced him around. The child squealed in delight at the sensation of being taller than everyone else. Hetty and Vincent were together while the girls put themselves in pairs. Then they all started for the entrance of the maze, on an even footing this time.
“Ready?” Rupert asked. The children braced themselves to start. “Go!”
Vincent pulled at her hand with more strength than she thought a boy of seven years could have. She followed quickly after him. In a few steps, they were running as Vincent shouted. “Come on, Aunt Hetty! It's this way!” Though he was sure of his steps, the young boy led them into a few dead-ends before they finally found their way out. But he never grew frustrated, Hetty was pleased to see. He simply thought for a moment and dragged her along behind him as he decided where to go next.
By the time they spilled out at the end, everyone else was out. As the children argued about who had made it first, Hetty put her hand to her heart, trying to catch her breath.
“Are you all right, Miss Masters?” Rupert asked.
“I am fine, thank you.” She was still panting. “It has been many years since I've even considered moving that fast.”
He chuckled. “Well, you and Vincent made an admirable turnout.”
“Thank you. I cannot say that I will be doing it again soon.”
“Would you like to sit down?” There was concern in his voice. “I've had one of the parlors prepared for us.”
Hetty was surprised at his thoughtfulness, although she supposed she shouldn't be. After all, he had invited them all to his house, of course he would have thought of their comfort. “That would be nice.”
“Just a moment, then.” Rupert gave the children instructions and they headed off again into the maze. Then he turned back to Hetty and offered his arm. Instead of leading her toward the main doorway, he led her toward a set of windows a few steps away. He grabbed the handle and pulled one of the set open. It led directly into a comfortable parlor with two overstuffed sofas and a number of big chairs. There was a large fire roaring in the fireplace and a table in the middle of the room with all manner of edible delights.
Rupert must have seen her eying the table. “Since we promised the children cake, we should probably wait until they are here to dig into it. But may I pour you some tea?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.” Hetty began to take off her gloves.
“I will leave the door open there so the children will know where we are,” he gestured to the full-length glass window through which they had just entered.
“Wonderful,” Hetty replied. She put her gloves into her coat pockets and slipped the coat off her shoulders. The room was warm enough to do that even with the door standing open. Her recent exertion also made her feel overly heated. She draped the coat over a chair and took a step toward the open door. She smiled to hear the children yelling and laughing.
“Sugar?” Rupert asked from across the room.
“None, thank you. Just some milk.” Hetty turned her attention back into the room and toward the man who was bent over the table. A tall man bent over a small teacup was certainly an incongruous sight. She watched as he took care to pour the milk into the teacup and then to pour the tea slowly without slopping it around. His delicate movements and care made the sight that much more dissonant. He looked up and caught her gaze on him.
“Are you afraid I will do something incorrectly, Miss Masters? Or perhaps poison your drink?” He smiled and replaced the teapot on the tray.
“I thought we had agreed on first names, Mr. Henderson,” she replied.
He nodded in acknowledgment, the right corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile. “So we did. Are you afraid I will do something incorrectly, Hetty?”
Hetty's expression of amusement matched his. “I was somewhat concerned, sir.”
He picked up the teacup and brought it to her. “Your gaze is enough to make anyone nervous, which means I am more prone to doing something incorrectly.” He was clearly teasing her.
“I didn't mean to make you nervous,” Hetty blushed. Now it was his gaze that brought on the nerves.
“Oh, you didn't. I am only teasing. But you were looking very intent on something. Might I inquire as to what it was?”
He offered her the teacup
. As she took it from him, their hands brushed. In her lifetime she could not count the number of times the same thing had happened with any number of men and women. But none had felt as intimate as this slight brush did. She hoped the color had not rushed directly to her cheeks. Just in case, she kept her head down as she took a sip of the tea.
“I was trying to think of the last time a man made tea for me, if you must know.” Hetty took pains to make her voice as easy and lighthearted as possible.
“And what did you conclude?” He asked. He'd stepped back to the table and was pouring a cup for himself.
“That I cannot recall if such a thing has ever happened.” Hetty took another sip. The tea was perfect. It filled her with an entirely different kind of warmth than the fire provided.
“That is a shame,” Rupert replied.
“Why?”
“A man should be able to make a decent cup of tea for himself. And how is he ever to learn if he does not practice?” He joined her near the window, sipping at his own cup of decent tea.
Hetty meant to laugh at his comment, but she saw that he was quite serious about it. “I suppose I never thought too much about men and their tea. I always assumed they did not drink it except to be polite to women.”
Now he chuckled. “One cannot always drink strong liquor.”
“If they did, it would serve to explain some of the more questionable behavior I have seen in my lifetime.” Hetty took a sip of her tea while Rupert continued to chuckle. “And how did you learn to make a decent cup of tea, sir?”
“Hmm...” he mused. “That is a short and very uninteresting story.”
“And?” Hetty raised her eyebrow, prompting him to continue. She was curious about this man.
“You really want to hear it?” He questioned.
“I do. I know very little about you, Rupert, and I think I would like to know more.”
“Well, then...” he began. “When I was no more than ten years old, I was a... well, I guess you could say companion... to a wealthy and well-known man. He was nearly always busy, so he set me to the tasks he didn't want to do. He was also very exacting, so I learned quickly after the first time he yelled at me about the awful cup of tea I had made.”
A Prince for Aunt Hetty Page 6