The Seventh Miss Hatfield (16 page)

The rest of the afternoon was spent concocting a plan which would allow me to get into the study, steal the painting and leave. I steeled my resolve, determined to do my level best to make this happen. I paced back and forth in front of the fireplace long after the flames had expired. Deep in thought as I was, nothing else mattered. The feelings between Henley and me were moving in a direction I knew I couldn’t control much longer. I needed to complete my mission and move on before I hurt him even more deeply than I knew my inevitable disappearance was bound to do.

I heard a timid knock at the door and turned to see young Hannah standing there with some freshly folded linens in her arms. I smiled at her and waved her in. ‘Hello, Hannah. I haven’t seen you for a couple of days. Are you well?’

‘Oh, yes, miss,’ she replied. ‘I’ve brought you some clean sheets and towels. I’ve been quite busy, doing laundry and putting things away. Nellie’s been helping me.’ She beamed.

‘Ah, I see. So you and Nellie have become friends, then. That’s good. You’re both kind girls, and should be friends.’ I noticed a glint of silver in her hair as she quietly went about making up my bed. That was it! A hairpin might be just the trick to pick the study door’s lock! I had hairpins of my own, of course, but they were thicker than the one in Hannah’s hair appeared to be. But how to ask her for it without causing suspicion?

‘Where’s Nellie?’ I asked, just making small talk until I figured out how to get the pin from her.

‘She’s down helping the cook prepare dinner, miss. There are lamb chops tonight, and some roasted potatoes. Oh, but it all smells so lovely cooking!’ she exclaimed. I wondered if the servants got to eat the same food we were served at the Beaufords’ table, but realized they were most likely fed much simpler, cheaper fare. Perhaps the butler and the cook dined as we did, but I was sure the other staff weren’t accorded such privileges.

‘Hannah, have you ever had a lamb chop?’ I asked, pretty sure I knew the answer.

‘Ah, no, miss. But they look and smell … quite heavenly, I must say,’ she replied shyly.

‘Well, then, tonight you shall have your first. Tell Nellie that I specifically asked for you to serve me. It so happens that I don’t particularly care for lamb chops myself, but I’d hate for mine to go to waste. When you bring me my plate, just slip my chop onto a plate for yourself, and put some extra potatoes and other vegetables on mine, so it doesn’t look too bare when you place it in front of me. All right?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Shan’t I get in trouble, miss? I’ve never done anything like that before—’

‘Oh, if anyone even notices, which I highly doubt they will, I’ll just tell them my stomach’s been a bit upset and I requested a lighter dinner, that’s all. Besides, I don’t know if you’ve ever witnessed a dinner at the Beaufords’ table, but it’s usually a pretty solemn affair. Not many pleasantries are exchanged, I’m afraid, with everyone focused on finishing up their meal and getting on with their evening.’ I paused, knowing I’d given her something to look forward to – a new taste experience she might never have been able to afford herself. ‘Hannah, would you come here, please? I see something in your hair I’d like to take a look at.’

She began brushing at her hair. ‘What is it, miss? Not a spider, I hope!’ She ran over to me, her voice very high-pitched, and I felt bad for having frightened her. Another tone in her voice reminded me of how Cynthia would squeal when she found a spider in her room. She wouldn’t calm down until her father released it outside.

I found myself smiling at this sudden memory. I wondered if older people – those who aged naturally – thought of their younger selves as I now thought of Cynthia, as someone I’d known well, but a different person.

‘What is it?’ Hannah asked, seeing the look on my face. She still sounded distraught.

‘Nothing,’ I reassured her. ‘You just reminded me of someone I used to know.’ I soothed her as I swiftly removed the silver-coloured pin from her hair. ‘It was only this. See?’ I held the pin out for her to observe. ‘I wonder if you know where I might get some pins such as this? I have hairpins—’ I went to the bureau and held up a couple Henley had bought me to show her ‘—but I quite fancy these lighter weight, thinner ones. Could I trade you a few of mine for this one?’ I held out a half-dozen of my bronze pins.

She walked over to where I stood and looked up at me, perhaps unsure whether I might be teasing her. ‘Well, but, miss … These are much more costly than my simple pins—’

‘Oh, that doesn’t matter. I like your kind much better. Tell you what, you take these, and – if you have them – bring me an equal number of the silver ones next time you come up. Don’t make a special trip, just next time you need to bring something in here or tidy the upstairs rooms.’ She took the bronze pins from my hand, staring at them as if they were made of gold.

‘Thank you so much, miss. Yes, I will surely bring you five more silver pins and leave them right here on your dresser.’ She headed excitedly towards the door with her treasure clutched in her hand, but stopped before she got there and turned towards me one last time. ‘Miss, who was that person I reminded you of? Was it someone from home?’

When she saw that her question had caught me off guard, she blushed and apologized.

I shook my head. ‘She was someone I knew of and about, but not someone I knew well – an acquaintance, if you will.’

She nodded sombrely and suddenly I wanted to see her smile again.

‘And you won’t forget about the lamb chop tonight, now, will you? You ask cook to give you some nice mint jelly to go with it – that really brings out the flavour. Say I asked for it especially.’ I smiled at her.

‘Oh, no, miss, I’ll not forget, thank you.’ She looked at me, gratitude brimming in her young eyes. ‘Nellie told me you were very kind. Now I know what she means.’ She curtsied and ran out of the room.

It was curious to me how such a young girl managed so well, doing the work of an adult, and in the capacity of a servant. On one hand, I felt sorry for her and Nellie; on the other, I rather envied that they knew what would be expected of them from one day to the next. In my current situation, I never had one whit of a clue as to what might befall me in this strange world which was somehow becoming more familiar with each passing day. At that precise moment, all I knew for certain was that I’d acquired a helpful tool that might get me to the next phase of my plan. I straightened out the hairpin as best I could, and prayed it would be just what I needed when the time came. I looked through my clothes until I found a smart little weskit that had a pocket. Donning this over my blouse, I slipped the pin neatly into the pocket. At least that much of the plan was in place.

I returned to my pacing – it appeared to help me sort things out as I was thinking. I supposed I could grab the painting and borrow one of the faster horses. Then I’d ride back to the city and retrace my steps to return the painting to Miss Hatfield … I’d ridden Bessie now and again during the previous few days, but with Wellesley’s help had also become more comfortable atop a couple of the younger, swifter horses. That had to be the solution; take a horse and ride back to the city, carefully holding on to the painting somehow. I wasn’t sure I remembered the way, but it couldn’t be that complicated, and I could always ask for directions. That was that – plan completed! Now all I had to do was pull it off.

Dinner was served promptly at eight, as usual. Henley, Mr Lawrence and I were the only diners, as Mr Beauford wouldn’t return from his trip until the next day. The mood at the table was much lighter than when the old gentleman was present. I was glad Mr Lawrence had joined us, for I didn’t trust myself to be alone too much with Henley right now.

Good girl that she was, Hannah brought me my vegetarian meal, and I winked at her quickly in thanks. I knew she’d enjoy that lamb chop, and they truly never had been a favourite of mine, so we’d both be happy with our food that night.

Henley was busy baiting Mr Lawrence and thankfully didn’t pay me too much heed, although I suspected he would have liked to but was concerned about Mr Lawrence’s impressions. They were discussing the Egyptians’ building ingenuity, as well as the price of steel on the export side of things – topics I basically knew nothing about, and that was fine with me. It allowed me to think through my plan, step by step, over and over in my mind. Rather like an actor rehearses for a play, I realized. I found that amusing, recalling my – or rather, Cynthia’s – father reciting something along the lines of ‘all the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players’. Funny that I could remember such trivial details of my past life while larger memories were already fading in chunks and pieces.

I heard Henley lightly tapping the side of his water glass with his spoon. ‘I say, dear cousin, whatever is preoccupying your mind this evening? You’ve barely said two words. I dare say it’s something amusing, considering that smile on your lips.’ He looked at me expectantly and I knew some type of response was required.

‘Oh, I was just remembering something my father said long ago.’ I stood up and so did they, as gentlemen of the day always did when a lady entered or left a room. ‘I’m sorry to say, however, that I’m feeling a bit under the weather and must retire early. Please forgive me, and do continue your conversation over dessert and coffee.’ I nodded my head slightly and moved swiftly out of the dining room. I could feel Henley’s eyes piercing my back as I exited. He was curious, I knew, but wouldn’t want to pique Mr Lawrence’s nosiness by being too solicitous of his ‘cousin’. I was confident he wouldn’t follow me and, thankfully, he didn’t.

I quickly made my way along the hall towards Mr Beauford’s study. The walls were adorned with several portraits of family members and an assortment of other people dressed in period clothing, most of which looked to date back to the 1600s; I felt them peering at me as I bustled past, some looking more disapproving than others. Glancing first to my left, then my right, I was convinced no one was watching. I removed the hairpin from my pocket and was about to commit my first crime when I realized the study door was slightly ajar. What luck!

One of the maids must have forgotten to lock it after cleaning. I slipped in and quietly closed the door behind me. I reached into my pocket for a packet of matches, as I’d known it would be dark in this room, were I fortunate enough to gain entry. I’d glimpsed a candle on the large desk when I walked by one day and peeked in, and saw Mr Beauford sitting there, poring over some papers. Now here I was, striking a match to light that very same candle. I did so quickly, and as my eyes adjusted to the soft light, I was quite astounded by what I beheld.

The room more closely resembled a laboratory than a library. To be sure, there were many books on the shelves, but what puzzled me were all the vials and test tubes piled upon several shelves and tables. Mr Beauford must be conducting some kind of experiments in his spare time, I thought to myself.

I remembered seeing Father Gabriel in this room with Mr Beauford. Whenever Mr Beauford called for him, Father Gabriel dropped everything and rushed from his residence in the local town to discuss anything Mr Beauford wanted to discuss. I imagined Mr Beauford talked to him about his illness and not wanting to die, while Father Gabriel consoled him with talk of a life after this one, filled with light and angels. Father Gabriel would pull up a chair near Mr Beauford’s desk and they would talk for hours.

I thought back to Mr Beauford’s antique-collecting obsession that Henley had mentioned. I heard Mr Beauford’s voice inside my mind. They are immortal. They were here long before us and will remain long after we’re gone. It was as if Mr Beauford was trying to escape death by collecting items he knew were from a time before he existed and would outlast him long after he ceased to be. Perhaps it was some deranged way of prolonging his own life. Father Gabriel probably saw Mr Beauford’s fixation as irreligious – a superstition, almost. It was strange that he played along, but maybe he hoped to comfort the old man in what was the final period of his life. Even though he appeared to be a little stronger now, his overall frailty certainly gave the impression that he may not have long to live.

I snapped myself out of it. It didn’t matter. None of it did. I had to complete my mission. I looked up at the wall behind the desk to find the painting Miss Hatfield so desired staring back at me. I glanced around for something to stand on and noticed a small footstool next to a chair. It would put me at exactly the right height to grab the painting, and then I’d be on to the next phase of my plan.

As I walked over to fetch the stool, I couldn’t help but notice several old maps and some diaries or journals spread out on one of the many small tables in the room. What on earth could Mr Beauford be so fascinated about? I snatched up the footstool and headed back to the desk, but in my haste I knocked over a stack of papers.

Cursing myself, I scooped them up and put them back on the table, hoping no one would notice they were out of order. Moving to place the footstool, I heard a crinkling sound and realized that I’d stepped on a piece of paper I’d missed. When I picked it up, I saw that it was a note from Ruth, Mr Beaufort’s long-lost wife. It said, ‘To my darling Charles. With all the love in the world, Ruth.’ I put it back with the stack of paper. I felt uneasy, but refocused myself upon the task at hand. As I placed the footstool in front of the portrait, my eyes fell upon an open diary on Mr Beauford’s desk. I squinted at the elegant, loopy and decidedly feminine penmanship. The candlelight illuminated the page just enough for me to make out three words that made my heart stand still. The entry read: ‘I am immortal.’