The Seventh Miss Hatfield (14 page)

‘Miss. Wake up, miss.’ My eyelids fluttered open and I saw Nellie’s familiar face smiling down at me as she gently shook my shoulder.

‘Nellie! You’ve arrived, I see. How was your trip?’

‘Oh, fine, miss, thank you. I’ve never been so far outside the city. It’s quite lovely here, isn’t it?’ She was taking in all the appointments of the room, much as I had done.

I sat up, squinting at the clock on top of the fireplace. It was 7 .45!

‘Yes, it’s very nice, Nellie. I’m really glad to see you, but we have to move quickly now – dinner’s in a quarter of an hour and I mustn’t be late. I never thought I’d sleep so long.’ I began bustling around, trying to decide which new dress would be most appropriate for dinner. Seeing my frustration, Nellie stepped in and made the perfect choice for me.

‘This one will do nicely, Miss Margaret,’ she said as she helped me off with my nightgown and, almost in one motion, pulled the dress down over my head. I was still wearing my corset and undergarments. They were beginning to feel almost like a second skin and hadn’t bothered me in the least while I was sleeping, even though I’d slumbered far longer than I’d intended to.

I hurriedly crossed to the bowl on the dresser and splashed some water on my face, then pinched my cheeks as Miss Hatfield had instructed, in order to bring some healthy colour to the surface. Women of my station at this point in time seldom wore anything that was considered as vulgar as make-up, with the exception of perhaps some lip rouge (she’d told me they didn’t call it lipstick back then because it was usually kept in a small jar, and wasn’t really a ‘stick’ or in a tube yet).

I was about to dash out of the door, anxious not to keep the Beaufords waiting for me, especially not on my first night in the country, when Nellie burst out laughing. I wheeled around to see what was so funny. She was holding up my shoes.

‘I think you might want these, Miss Margaret.’

I laughed along with her. ‘That’s an excellent idea, Nellie,’ I agreed as I crossed the room and sat on the bed while she helped me on with them. ‘A barefoot dinner guest isn’t likely to make a good impression.’ We giggled a bit more as I walked to the door. ‘Why don’t you go and get yourself some dinner, too, Nellie? Ask Hannah to show you around. She’s very sweet, and quite helpful, you’ll find.’

Nellie nodded, indicating she would do so. I took a deep breath and began making my way towards the stairs, knowing I needed to display the proper decorum as I was now not just under the Beaufords’ scrutiny, but that of the entire household staff as well.

‘My dear?’

I paused at the top of the staircase when I heard Mr Beauford call out.

‘Yes, Uncle?’

‘I believe you’re forgetting something,’ he said, when he reached the staircase.

I looked down at my feet, which were now in shoes. ‘And what might that be?’

There was a glint in his eye, not unlike the one I so often saw in Henley’s. ‘An escort, of course!’

I smiled, lending him my arm.

‘You see, my dear,’ he said, patting my hand as we started down the stairs, ‘a pretty young thing like you deserves to have someone on her arm, and anyone would be honoured to have you accompany them.’

I laughed. ‘I’m glad you think so.’

‘Anyone would think so.’

I was startled by the voice, as it didn’t come from Mr Beauford.

Henley emerged from one of the rooms wearing a sophisticated-looking tuxedo, still tugging at his bow tie. His hair was swept back and his starched shirt lay flat against his chest. My eyes were drawn to just how sculpted he looked. I was reminded how broad his shoulders were, and his eyes looked even bluer in contrast with his white shirt.

‘Oh, son.’ Mr Beauford groaned. ‘I thought I told you to do away with that dinner jacket. It looks dreadful – not to mention, it’s much too informal for dinner with a lady in attendance. I just can’t understand these latest styles that are growing in popularity.’

‘I think it looks nice.’

There was a pause, and I didn’t even realize what I’d said until I looked up to see Henley’s cocky grin appearing.

‘Y–you look … polished,’ I said, for lack of a better word.

‘Father, the lady has spoken,’ Henley said.

Mr Beauford sighed in resignation. ‘I suppose you’re right … but only because Margaret is too much of a lady to mind. You might as well escort her to dinner. I’m getting too old for this.’ He chuckled.

Henley took my arm and wrapped it around his.

As we descended down the steps, I kept noticing the glances he was giving me out of the corner of his eye.

‘I know – I look pretty good for someone who was running up hills barefoot and sleeping on a straw mattress just hours ago,’ I joked once we were out of his father’s earshot.

‘You look stunning.’

I couldn’t think of a clever response, so his words just hung there between us. Even during dinner, his words were the only thing I could think about. They lay unmoving in my mind, not letting me concentrate on anything else. His words made me feel something I’d never felt before. It might have been what Mother felt around my father.

It was the first time I’d felt more than just ‘pretty’.

The morning sun came streaming in through the curtains, gently awakening me. I slowly sat up on the edge of the bed and replayed the events from the night before as I returned to my body after slumber.

Dinner had actually been quite pleasant; the food was exquisite, the conversation less than riveting, but fine. I could tell that Mr Beauford appeared to prefer being here in the country; he was just a little more at ease. Henley, on the other hand, had grown a bit sullen since our arrival. I wasn’t sure what was going on with him, although he’d intimated he would be spending an inordinate amount of time with his tutor while we were here. Mr Beauford was anxious for Henley to finish his education so that he could take over the family steel business soon.

‘The old fellow’s convinced he’s on his last legs, and that I need to be ready to step in as head of the business any day now,’ Henley had whispered to me as we left the dining room the evening before. ‘Perhaps he’s right. His memory appears to be slipping more with each passing day …’ His voice drifted off on a note of sadness.

I touched his arm, not knowing the best way to comfort my new friend and confidant. He squeezed my hand and favoured me with a broad smile. ‘I just remembered that my tutor will be off on a personal mission of some sort tomorrow, which means I’ll have a rare day to myself. What say you and I go horse riding? Get some fresh air, do the whole gentry routine? I could show you all my favourite things about the estate.’ He raised his eyebrows, trying to look snooty, and was using a false condescending tone, but when I started giggling at his antics he dissolved into laughter himself.

‘I would be all too delighted to partake in equestrian pastimes with you on the morrow,’ I replied with a curtsey. Not bad impromptu chit-chat for a time traveller, if I do say so myself, I thought, a secret smile flitting across my lips at my private joke.

‘Hmm … Thou art becoming all the more mysterious,’ said Henley, playing along. Then he grabbed my hand and bowed, and when our eyes met, I saw something in his that both attracted and frightened me. I shivered slightly, because this game I was playing along with was suddenly becoming all too real, making me fearful it would be hard to detach myself from this captivating man when the time came.

‘Very well, sir.’ I nodded to him politely. ‘At what time shall I meet you for breakfast followed by a jaunt around the estate on horseback?’

‘Breakfast at eight, riding directly afterwards. Dress accordingly, dear cousin.’

I broke our eye contact because it was bordering on becoming far too intense for my liking. ‘Yes, that will be fine,’ I murmured. ‘Do sleep well, Henley. I look forward to tomorrow.’

‘As do I,’ he said softly as his eyes followed me up the stairs. I’d gone straight to bed, not allowing myself to wonder too much about the feelings that appeared to be developing between us. I was most likely imagining them, anyway. What did I know? I had so recently been a child, although I could barely remember that time, and now here I was playing some odd grown-up game, and pretending to be someone I wasn’t, on top of it all. And who was I now, really, anyway? I’d sighed and pulled the covers up over my head.

And now here was daybreak, and I wasn’t one bit closer to figuring out how to remove the painting from the study, much less how I was going to somehow be transported – carrying it – back to Miss Hatfield. The whole business was making my head hurt.

‘Nellie!’ I called, and was startled when she popped her head inside my room right away.

‘Yes, Miss Margaret?’

‘Goodness, you gave me a turn! You must have been right outside the door.’

‘Yes, miss.’ It was only then that I noticed she was carrying a tea tray. ‘Master Henley asked me to bring this bit of breakfast up to you.’ She glanced at the clock on the mantle. I followed her gaze. It was already 8 .15!

‘Oh, I can’t believe I overslept! I knew I was supposed to meet him for breakfast at eight—’

‘It’s all right, Miss Margaret. He’s not upset. He laughed and actually made up this little tray for you himself. “The country air has relaxed her soul,” is what he said, I do believe. I know I slept quite well myself, miss.’

‘I’m glad, Nellie. And I’m so happy you were able to accompany us here. Could you please choose something for me to wear that would be suitable for horse riding while I eat my breakfast?’

She nodded and began picking through my new garments, oohing and ahing under her breath as she found each dress more beautiful than the last. I smiled. Before I left, I was determined to ask Henley to let her keep something. She deserved a little finery, for once in her life. I quickly finished my breakfast and washed my face. Then we hurriedly went about getting me dressed for the day.

Nellie had chosen the perfect outfit for me: a lovely tan flowing skirt with a rose-pink blouse, and a little weskit that matched the skirt. She helped me dress, and then we pulled on the new pair of boots Henley had obviously bought for me when I wasn’t paying attention. He was so thoughtful, but I hated how he wasted money on me. And how had he guessed my size? Most odd.

Nellie pinned my hair up and put a smart little hat atop my head that crowned my outfit handsomely. ‘Thanks for everything, Nellie,’ I called over my shoulder as I hurried out into the hallway.’ I’ll see you later – probably sometime this afternoon.’

‘Have a lovely day, Miss Margaret,’ she called after me, a bit wistfully, I thought.

I dashed down the stairs but stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a familiar burst of laughter echoing up at me.

‘You’d best be careful, Master Henley, or I shan’t thank you for that delicious breakfast. Don’t you know it’s impol- ite to laugh at a lady, especially first thing in the morning?’ I scolded, but my eyes were smiling back at him. ‘What in heaven’s name is so funny, anyway?’

‘Just that you were moving at near breakneck speed, is all. I doubt any of our horses would be able to keep pace with you!’

‘Hmmph!’ My eyes were twinkling as I passed him, and he knew I was anything but angry. He quickly ran to walk by my side.

‘Just a moment – you don’t even know where the stables are. Wouldn’t you like me to show you the way?’

I gave him a sidelong glance. ‘I think my nose and ears could lead me there, even if my eyes failed me. But since you insist—’ I took his proffered arm ‘—please, do lead on.’

He nodded. I sensed Henley was enjoying our silly little role-playing banter as much, if not more, as I was. I couldn’t help but conclude that he’d had a pretty lonely childhood, especially after his mother passed away.

We were at the stables in no time, and the sight of all the horses stomping, whinnying and loudly exhaling was quite exhilarating. I’d always been enchanted by the idea of riding, but Cynthia had never had the opportunity. Strange. The few times a memory of my former life popped in to my head, I always found myself thinking of that existence in the third person. Miss Hatfield had intimated this would happen, but I hadn’t truly understood what she meant until that moment.

Henley was busily talking with the stableman and pointing at a beautiful, spirited-looking black horse with a dazzling white splash exactly in the middle of its face. ‘Saddle up Cedric for Miss Margaret, please, Wellesley,’ he said. The stableman nodded and began to prepare Cedric for me to ride.

‘Ah, wait a moment, please, Wellesley,’ I intruded. ‘I’d prefer to choose my own horse, if the two of you don’t mind.’ I felt silly insisting upon this, since I knew virtually nothing about the creatures, but a brownish-red mare had caught my attention, and she looked rather lonely in her stall. I felt an outing would be good for her, and somehow, I knew I could trust her. I pointed towards the mare. ‘I’d much rather ride that one, if I may.’ I looked at Henley for his assent. His face was inscrutable all of a sudden. What’s he hiding from me now? I wondered.

‘Oh, but, miss,’ Wellesley interjected, ‘you don’t really want to ride—’

Henley held up his hand. ‘Oh, I rather think she does, Wellesley. It’s fine – saddle up the roan for her.’

Roan? Oh, so that was what a horse of that colouring was called. I smiled, pleased that I was going to get my way and had already learned a couple of ‘horsey terms’ I’d been unfamiliar with prior to our outing.

‘Yes, sir,’ said Wellesley, but he muttered to himself the entire time he was saddling up the roan. Her name was Bessie, I discerned from the plaque on the wall beside her stall. ‘Can’t understand why anyone would want to ride the oldest horse here, out of all the better choices—’

‘Tut, tut, Wellesley,’ Henley admonished. ‘Bessie might be slow, but perhaps that will suit our Miss Margaret to a T.’ He turned and favoured me with one of his wonderful smiles. ‘Bessie’s getting close to the end of her service here with us. Lately, we’ve been speaking of, ah …’ It was obvious he’d said more than he meant to.

My eyes widened with horror. ‘Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to do something awful, like sell poor Bessie to a glue factory or some such barbaric thing?’ I cried.

Henley smiled, but I could tell that he empathized with me to a degree. Doubtless he’d seen many a horse put out to pasture – or worse – when they’d outlived their usefulness.

‘Bessie’s an excellent choice, Margaret,’ he assured me. ‘And since you’ve decided to champion her cause, I’ll ask Father not dispose of her, but allow her to live out her days in retirement here with us. In fact, you shall be her final rider, as long as you’re here in the country with us. Then she’ll just relax and get fatter and sassier. What do you think about that?’ He grinned as he mounted his own horse, a beautiful white with an Egyptian motif on its halter.

‘I think that’s civilized, and so does Bessie, don’t you, girl?’ I patted her neck, and just before putting my foot into the stirrup, I whispered to her, ‘I bought you some more time. The least you can do is return the favour and not let anyone know I don’t have a clue about riding.’ Wellesley gave me a boost up, and before I knew it, I was seated atop Bessie, feeling surprisingly safe and at ease. I was thankful that Henley had bought me a special skirt that allowed me to ride astride, rather than side-saddle, as I feared I’d otherwise break my neck. Henley had joked that this was the very latest fashion, and in wearing this, I would be one of the most modern young women around.

Bessie’s broad back was steady as a rock beneath me, and she nickered very softly, as though she was agreeable to my secret request. I watched how Henley was holding the reins and copied him. How hard could this be, after all?

Henley clicked his tongue in a ‘giddy-up’ sort of way and gently tapped his heels to his horse’s flanks. I leaned forwards and whispered to Bessie, ‘Follow that horse, there’s a good girl.’ I patted her neck again and leaned forwards a bit. Surprisingly, she appeared to understand me and followed Henley and his horse out of the stables.

‘All right back there, you two?’ he called over his shoulder.

‘Never better,’ I responded cheerily, though keeping my balance while riding dear old Bessie was taking a bit more concentration than I’d expected. I had no clue why I wanted Henley to think I was an old hand at this; some bizarre feelings left over from school about having to be as good at things as boys probably had something to do with it. Cynthia had never played much with boys – or indeed with anyone other than her dolls, I faintly recollected – but she’d never allowed herself to feel intimidated in new situations, and neither would I. There I go again, I thought to myself, acting as though I’m a totally separate person from her. I snickered silently as I glanced down at my adult body and these strange Gibson Girl clothes, realizing that I truly was different from Cynthia in every way.

Henley gently called to his horse, ‘Whoa, Jasper,’ and they ambled to a stop to wait for me and Bessie to catch up. When we did, he looked me up and down. ‘Well, you sit on a horse quite well, considering you’ve never ridden one before,’ he said.

‘What? How did you know …’ My voice trailed off. Why did I have such a hard time hiding things from this young man I was growing so fond of?

He grinned. ‘Your right hand gives you away when you’re nervous. You make a fist and open it again, about three times in rapid succession, and then you’re fine. I’ve noticed it a couple of times before, but only figured out what it meant today. You do it when you’re in new situations, am I right?’

I clucked my tongue at Bessie, and we rode along side by side in silence. All the while, Henley was observing me with a bemused smile. Well, he certainly was right about new situations – everything about this situation was new to me, including riding a horse. But I was disappointed I hadn’t proved to be a better actress. How on earth was I going to fool him when it came to stealing the painting and getting back to Miss Hatfield?

Finally I broke my silence. ‘Well, since you’re so smart, give me some pointers about riding, please, sir,’ I murmured demurely.

He laughed. ‘I’ll be happy to, but you’re doing quite well, actually.’ He reached over and patted old Bessie’s neck. ‘She’s the perfect horse for you after all. May I?’ he asked as he held out his hand for the reins. ‘It’ll probably be easier for you to get comfortable if you let me lead her for a while.’