A Prince for Aunt Hetty

by Kimberly Truesdale

  “Yelled at you? Over tea? That seems a bit much for a child.”

  Rupert nodded. “I went straight to the nearest woman I could find – who happened to be the cook – and begged her to show me how to do it. God bless her kind soul. She took pity on me and patiently showed me all the steps. And also informed me just the way the master liked his tea.”

  “And who was this master?” Hetty asked, curious as to where and with whom Rupert Henderson had grown up.

  Rupert directed his gaze into the cup of tea in front of him, clearly uncomfortable. Two of the children saved him from answering, however, as they came bursting into the room.

  “Auntie! Auntie!” Stephen shouted and tugged at her dress.

  “It's snowing!” Agnes followed her brother into the room.

  Stephen wailed. “I was going to say that!”

  Hetty sensed tiredness and hunger in the young boy. In order to stave off the impending fight between brother and sister, she leaned down to Stephen's level and pretended she had not heard the news. “What did you want to tell me, my dear?”

  Stephen sniffled, only slightly mollified by the attention. “It's snowing out there.” He swiped a sleeve over his running nose. Hetty was glad to see the tears had stopped.

  “Snowing? I don't believe it!” Her feigned shock drew a watery smile from him.

  “It is! It is! Look!” He took her hand in his. Two steps brought them to the open door where Hetty could see small flurries of soft powder picking up. The other children were chasing after the flakes, sticking out their tongues to try and catch them. The snow wasn't thick enough yet for them to succeed, but they were taking great delight in trying. Stephen and Agnes ran back to join them, giggling and shouting as they went.

  Hetty stood near the open door, feeling the warmth of the room behind her and the chill of the winter air before her. As she took a deep breath of the fresh coldness, Rupert stepped up beside her. For a moment, the sights and sounds of the children melted away and Hetty was left with her awareness of the man beside her. Even without looking, she had a sense of the bulk of him, as he stood next to her in silence.

  Hetty tensed for a moment, wondering what she should say. They had been in the middle of a conversation when the children had interrupted. Should she pursue that? Should she say something about the children? Should she begin to talk about the weather? Topics of conversation flew in and out of her mind faster than the whirling flurry of the tiny flakes outside. None seemed to fit. And so the only thing she could do was remain silent.

  Rupert did the same. If he was thinking the same whirling thoughts, his outward demeanor gave no hint of it. He only stood there with his hands comfortably behind his back. Hetty took a surreptitious glance at him, but he did not seem to notice her at all. She looked out the door to the same place where his gaze rested: the children. She watched them, too, trying to see what he saw when he looked at them.

  But she knew so little of the man. He did not even want to tell her about how he had learned to make a cup of tea. And unlike most of the men she had ever met, he seemed very reluctant to share anything about himself. Hetty was used to society gentlemen sharing their most insignificant thoughts, counting on her to care about them. And she did make an effort, especially if she thought the man might be a suitor for one of her nieces. Most of those men she found utterly tedious. But Rupert Henderson intrigued her... she wanted to know what he was thinking and where he had come from.

  Her thoughts and questions calmed as she watched the simple joy of the children. Perhaps that was what he saw. Perhaps he saw the same thing that she did. No matter how little they knew of each other, perhaps they both saw the simple joy that a group of brothers and sisters was taking in the first snowfall of the new year. Perhaps they both saw the silliness of the dance they were doing as they tried to gather the tiny snowflakes on their tongues or the rejoicing when they caught one. Perhaps they both saw the way the older children helped the younger ones and the way all fighting was forgotten for a time while they concentrated on their simple task. Perhaps...

  Hetty realized that the pressure she had felt to speak was gone, replaced by a sense of peace within the silence. They were simply two people looking out over a scene of pure joy. As she had done before, Hetty drew in a deep breath of the cold air and let it out again. The awareness of Rupert by her side did not make her anxious now. He was there and she was there. Together.

  The peace was soon disturbed by young Harriet, who came running up to the door in breathless glee and begged the two adults to come play with them. Before Hetty could turn around, Rupert was at her side with her coat in his hands. She slipped her arms into it and buttoned up the front as she stepped outside. Rupert followed, still not speaking.

  For nearly an hour they all played, romping around the garden on quests set out by Rupert or running the hedge maze again. All the time, the snow continued to fall, coming down more and more as they played.

  Growing colder by the moment, Hetty called out, “Children, I think it's time we had something to eat and drink. Let's all go inside now.”

  “Yes, I do think it might be just about time for cake!” Rupert spoke excitedly. He had uttered the magic word. All of the children zoomed past them and headed into the house. Rupert drew up alongside of her as they walked across the garden.

  “I think you have won your way forever into their hearts,” Hetty said, looking up at their host. “They will never forget their afternoon at the castle.”

  Rupert looked at her in a way that made her blood rush faster through her body. For a moment, she felt disoriented and her limbs stopped working. She stumbled over a slick spot in the gathering snow. Hetty's arms flailed outward in an attempt to steady herself. She found Rupert's hand and grabbed tightly. He spun quickly to grab her elbow and keep her upright.

  Hetty stood where she was, startled by her near-fall and his rescue. She breathed heavily as the anxiety coursed through her body. For a moment, she focused only on finding her balance and steadying her breathing. But it hitched again when she discovered that he still held her. Then it was something else that coursed through her blood.

  “Are you all right, Hetty?” He asked quietly, much nearer than he should be.

  She dared not look up at him. “I believe so. I seem to have slipped on some ice. Silly me.” She gave a half-hearted laugh to diminish her embarrassment. She knew she wasn't fooling either of them.

  “Are you game to continue?”

  “Of course,” Hetty replied. She took a confident step forward and he followed. They walked toward the house, not speaking to each other. It was only as they reached the door into the warm parlor that Hetty realized her hand was still in his. She tugged slightly at it, embarrassed that she had not noticed it before. But he did not let her go.

  He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. Even through her glove, the heat ran straight up her arm. He flashed her a crooked smile, let go of her hand, and stepped into the room.

  Chapter Seven

  HIS HOUSE WAS the noisiest it had ever been and Rupert couldn't have been happier. He retreated to the main hallway just at the bottom of the stairs. He was It again and the children were scattering throughout the first and second floors to find good hiding places.

  The snow was now falling heavily, so Rupert had suggested an indoor game of hide-and-seek. The relieved look of thanks from Hetty had been ample reward for the havoc the children were about to wreak to his rooms. He would have let them destroy his house, if only it would make her smile at him.

  He'd never thought so much about a woman. He'd had flirtations before, but the mysteries of those women were soon discovered. Hetty, though, he couldn't quite figure out. It was in the way she treated the children... the way she treated him.

  She thinks of us as equals.

  She does not look down on me.

  Rupert was used to women who looked through him. It made it that much easier to look right back through them. But with Hetty, it was di
fferent. She saw him and maybe, he hoped, respected him.

  “We're ready!” shouted one of the girls from somewhere in the house.

  Rupert shook himself out of his thoughts. “I'm coming for you!” he shouted back and started down the hall.

  He made loud and exaggerated movements to let them know exactly where he was. At each open door, he walked heavily into the room and announced his presence. “Are you in here?” he asked and then listened carefully for any shifting movements or giggles. He'd already learned that the children would giggle easily when they got excited or nervous. He swiped the curtains to the side but found no one.

  And so he moved through the first floor of the house. On this first round, he found Stephen and young Harriet, catching them as they tried to wiggle past him and out of the room. They shrieked with laughter, though, as he grabbed them and swung them around.

  “Noooo!” Harriet yelled.

  “Did we win? Did we win?” Stephen jumped up and down.

  “No, silly, we lost,” Harriet told her little brother.

  “Oh,” he pouted.

  Seeing the little boy's disappointment, Rupert gave him a wink. “I'll tell you what. How about I pretend I never saw either of you and you try and hide again? Then you'll have a good shot at winning.”

  “Yes!” Stephen yelled and ran out of the room without further ado.

  “Remember not to go into any room with a closed door!” He yelled after the boy. Hetty had insisted on some limitations for the children. Or they will get into everything.

  “Thank you, Mr. Henderson.” Young Harriet smiled shyly at him and then skipped away. He certainly could get used to the exuberance of these children. They made his heart light.

  He followed them slowly, calling out again as he entered the hallway. “I'm coming to get you!” Rupert listened carefully to the noises of his house. He heard the patter of feet on the second floor, so he headed back to the main staircase.

  As he stomped up the stairs, he heard a bark of protest from one of the children.

  “Not in here! This is my spot!” Then the sound of running feet and finally silence.

  As he reached the top of the stairs, he said again, “I'm coming to get you!” He headed down the hallway to his left. Already he heard giggles coming from one of the rooms. He stalked in, looking around to see where a child could have hidden. Then he spotted it. Movement under the sofa. Their mother won't be happy with me for all the dust the children will pick up here. He feinted to the other side of the room.

  “I thought I heard someone in here...” he tried to tempt a giggle out of whomever it was, but he or she held firm. “Oh well, I guess I was wrong.” He stood still, waiting. When there was still no sound, Rupert made toward the sofa, walking slowly and pretending to look under, over, and behind all the furniture. He could feel excited eyes on him as he drew closer. He circled around the back of the sofa, still moving quietly so the child thought he had a chance.

  Just as he started to lean down to look under the sofa where he knew the child was hiding, there was a burst of movement and a little body scooted out the front, the opposite side of where he was standing.

  “Ah ha!” Rupert hurried around the furniture and scooped up Agnes just as she was getting to her feet. Her laughter rang loudly in the room. “I've got you!” Rupert yelled and set her down. She was still laughing as he said, “Help me find the others?” The girl nodded and pointed past the staircase to the opposite end of the hallway. Rupert winked at her and she giggled again.

  He tiptoed down the hallway, now moving as quietly as possible so as not to alert the children. But as he passed the staircase, he suddenly sensed that something was wrong. He stopped and stood up straight, trying to figure out what it was. The sounds of the house hadn't changed. There was nothing alarming coming from the kitchen. No smells to be concerned about. So what was it? He peered down the hallway, growing darker as the afternoon wore on.

  The light in the hallway was too bright.

  His door.

  He was sure he had closed it before they came. But now it was wide open and spilling light into the hallway. Rupert moved swiftly, trying to quell his panic.

  He really liked these children, but if they had made a mess of this room... A mess could be cleaned up, but if they'd gotten to one of his... no, he couldn't think about that. His mind moved faster than his feet, but he soon barreled through the doorway.

  “What are you doing in here?” he tried to keep his voice calm, not wanting to scare the children.

  But it was the not the children who swung around abruptly to meet him.

  “Hetty.” It was a statement made more to cover his confusion than to provide any information. The panic that had risen into his throat now settled into the pit of his stomach. She's found it. Oh God. What am I going to say? Why didn't I lock this room? The thoughts flew through his mind. He couldn't answer any of them.

  Hetty stood there with eyes wide. He couldn't read her expression. Had she seen it? She must have seen it. It was very hard to miss it. What must she think?

  After an interminable moment, Hetty shifted her gaze to the floor and stuttered out, “I... I'm sorry. I was just... the door was closed but I thought I heard the children in here. I came in to scold... I didn't mean to intrude... I didn't realize...”

  When she started to move past him to exit the room, Rupert finally spoke. “Please wait.” She stopped but did not say anything.

  Rupert carefully considered his words. “Thank you for your concern. I... uh... I'm not angry. But I feel I should explain to you...”

  “It's not necessary. Really.” She turned now to face him.

  “But... I think it is... and... I would like to know what you think...” He gestured for her to step back where she had just come from and she did. Rupert watched her while she examined what was in front of them. First he saw embarrassment, then a kind of interest, until finally she stepped closer to examine.

  When a very long minute had passed, she turned to him, a question in her eyes. “It's... it's me.”

  Rupert nodded. There, in this spacious room on the second level of his house with the gray afternoon light spilling in the tall windows, was a half-finished portrait of Harriet Masters. The canvas stood on an easel in the middle of the room, waiting for him to return to it. The pencil and chalk drawing he'd spent hours perfecting over the past week was half-covered with paint. It would take hours more to finish it, to make it a perfect reflection of life, a perfect copy of what he saw when he looked at Harriet Masters.

  “But... why?”

  He paused. Rupert did not know how to put into words the fascination he had with Harriet Masters or how to tell her that, without her knowledge, he'd spent hours painting a copy of her face. Rupert stepped toward her. “I'm sorry, Hetty. I... I never meant for you to see this. Not that is makes a difference. I know I should have asked you...” He rambled on until she waved her hand impatiently and asked her question again.

  “But why me?”

  To him it was a silly question. Why her? Because she was the most interesting woman he'd met in a long time and he couldn't stop thinking about her. But this did not seem obvious to her, so he explained.

  “Why you?” Rupert echoed. He looked her in the eyes and smiled. “Because... In the short time I have known you, you fascinate me, Harriet Masters. Because I can't pin you down. Because I think you're beautiful. Because...” he shrugged, all the other reasons wound up in the simple gesture.

  She turned to look at her half-finished face there on the canvas. Then her gaze slowly returned to him. She seemed dazed, like she couldn't quite understand what was happening. She searched his face for meaning. His pulse pounded with something heavier than nerves and he dragged in a breath.

  When she spoke, it came out in a whisper. “That's how you see me?”

  “It is.” An impulse made him step forward, closer to her. As he moved, her eyes flashed down to his mouth and back up again. The space between them grew
warm. He desired more from her. They stood like this for a long beat, waiting. Her eyes flickered again to his mouth. It was the moment he needed. Rupert leaned toward her...

  Then came a shout, followed by the thumping of little feet in sturdy boots.

  Rupert hastily jumped away from Hetty. She turned away from him and began to smooth her dress, which he could recognize as her nervous tic. He didn't blame her. His own heart was nearly pounding out of his chest, and only a fraction of that was because of the scare the children had given him. He turned his attention to them as they all crowded into the room.

  “What is this place? Did you do these? Is that our auntie? Are you a painter?” the children all spoke at once, their eyes growing wider as they took in more of the room. It was filled with his paintings, all in various states of completion.

  “Let's leave this room alone, children,” Hetty began to shoo them out.

  “It's fine!” Rupert nearly shouted. He did not want her to go. He needed her to stay and understand. If she left, he felt that his opportunity to explain more fully would be gone. “You all can stay.” The children hadn't paid any attention to their aunt anyway.

  “Did you do these?” Vanessa asked him as she peered at one of his portraits.

  “Yes, I did,” he responded, trying to focus his attention on the girl. He was acutely aware of Hetty's nervous energy. She smoothed her dress over and over again as he spoke to Vanessa.

  She smiled at him. “I like them. I've never met a real artist before.”

  “Well, then I am pleased to meet you,” he gave her a mock bow. Her giggle at the gesture helped to lighten the atmosphere and distract his mind from what had almost happened between him and Hetty.

  “But did you really do these?” Agnes asked. She was standing in front of another unfinished painting that showed the garden they'd just been playing in an hour ago. He hadn't yet been able to finish the trees in the farthest background. Rupert was waiting for just the right light.