The Seventh Miss Hatfield (26 page)

I turned to face him, finally, tears burning my eyes and streaming down my cheeks. I wiped at them with my sleeve. ‘Henley, that’s a nice daydream, but that’s all it is. You’ll wake up and realize I’m not for you. I could never make you happy—’

Henley grabbed my face in his hands, so we were only inches apart. His brow was furrowed, but he still smiled. ‘God, Rebecca, you stupid girl. You’ve already made me happy – you always have, from the moment I met you. None of the past matters now, only that we’ll be together for ever.’ He moved his face towards mine to kiss me, but I turned away from him. As his cool lips brushed my cheek, I was again reminded of the life we could have had.

Even if I fought the urge inside me to leave, I knew I couldn’t watch him slowly die in front of me. And what of Henley? How could he possibly still love me, never ageing, stuck in the form I was currently in for eternity, while his hands grew gnarled and his skin leathery? Miss Hatfield had never mentioned an immortal dying of love, but I felt it might well be possible, right there in that stable.

I rebuffed him by climbing atop Thunder’s back. ‘I care for you, Henley, I can’t deny it. But a marriage between us would be disastrous – for more reasons than I can say. If you really do love me at all, you’ll go ahead and marry Christine, and merge your two family businesses, fulfilling your father’s wish for you. Now, if you’ll kindly hand me the painting and the food, I’d best be off. I’ll take the back road so as not to alert the people waiting for the carriages. I’ve ridden the route a few times before now. Come now, please do as I ask.’ I was begging. It was so hard being cruel to him in this way.

‘But what of my happiness, Rebecca? I don’t give a fig for the merging of family fortunes. Christine would make me miserable in no time. In fact, she already has. Please, Rebecca, is there anything I can say to make you change your mind, love?’ He was back on one knee, the ring extended up towards me. I felt so sorry for him, and my own heart was breaking, too, but I couldn’t let on that I was having even a moment of doubt, for he would surely notice it.

Heartbreak. It was real. I wished I could tell Cynthia that those songs she used to hear her mother playing in the kitchen were right. Fairy tales didn’t happen. You can break your own heart, and when you do, it’s far worse than any physical pain.

‘Get up.’ I willed my voice not to tremble. ‘I don’t love you, Henley, but I do believe that what’s best for you must come first. You’ll be happy somehow, I know you will. You can be happy if you allow yourself to be. Now, please hand me my bag.’ I was taking slow, deep breaths, trying not to start crying again. Resigned to the fact I was not going to give in, he turned away and slowly picked up the bag, put the food into it and collected the painting. But when he walked over to me with it, he held the ring towards me first.

‘We both know you told a great untruth in saying you don’t love me. I know the truth, Rebecca, and so do you. I have no idea why you’re insisting on breaking my heart, but I would never force you to do anything against your will. Please – take this ring. It’s meant for you and no one else should wear it.’ He put down his burden, took my left hand and placed his gift on my ring finger.

‘I–I can’t …’ I said. ‘You really must go, Henley, they’re waiting for you …’ But he was resolved. He turned the ring around so that its beautiful blue stone was facing my palm.

‘It’s not an engagement ring any more. Don’t think of it that way, I beg you. Perhaps when you wear it, you will think of me now and again, and remember how much I love you, and always shall. You’ll always hold my heart.’ A tear fell from the corner of his eye as he handed everything up to me, then he turned on his heel and was gone.

I sat there, stunned, frozen all over again. I heard his retreating footsteps, then the snap of a carriage door and the rumble of wheels heading away from the rubble that had once been Mr Beauford’s estate. I felt the cold morning air on my face, and I couldn’t help but wish fervently that I didn’t have to leave.

I would go back to Miss Hatfield and the world I left behind would continue as if I’d never existed. Henley would, in time, forget these past few weeks. There would come a morning when Henley would wake to find that he didn’t remember that strange girl’s name any more. He’d sit there in bed for a few minutes longer, trying to retrace his steps into the dream he’d shared with her. But try as he might, he wouldn’t be able to recall even the first letter of her name. Already the conversations they’d shared together would have started slipping from his mind. It wouldn’t be his fault, no. Quite the contrary – it was a natural process, time claiming its children again, returning them to that ignorant bliss they’d once enjoyed. Soon the last shadow of that girl would disappear from his memory, and he’d be happy again.

I clicked my tongue to Thunder and gently pressed my knees into his flanks to encourage him to walk forwards. Once we started along the back path to the city, the countryside whirled by in a blur, and the wind soon dried my tears.

Twenty-first-century cars honked loudly as I dashed across the street. It felt odd to be wearing jeans and a hooded grey sweatshirt. I thought longingly of the corsets and billowing skirts I’d been wearing just a few days ago.

‘Hey, lady – are you gonna move, or do you have a death wish?’ a cab driver yelled through his window. Startled, I realized I’d paused in the middle of an intersection, crossing against the light. I shook myself out of it and ran the rest of the way across the street.

I was now only a couple of blocks from my destination – I could see it, just ahead. The serenity of the place I was headed for was like an island in a sea of concrete. It helped me ground myself and find some inner strength to go on to whatever might lie ahead. I knew I was an immortal. I’d finally made some peace with what I’d become. I didn’t have the choice to turn back. I could only move forwards with my new existence. I wandered through the gates into the well-kept grounds and made my way to a site which had become very familiar to me over the last few days. I was surrounded by headstones in a tranquil cemetery. Ironically, the greenery reminded me of life and vibrancy when set against the concrete clatter of the nearby city streets. Here I stood among the dead, surrounded by life. It was quite the conundrum, but it brought me peace. I walked over to a familiar gravestone and knelt down in front of it, tracing the engraved words with my finger, as I’d done many times recently.

These were letters I knew all too well, even with my eyes closed. As my fingers traced them, I could almost feel him there with me. Henley A. Beauford. I traced them three times, as had become my ritual. I wished for them not to be real when I opened my eyes, but they were still there staring back at me like some cruel joke. I read the words beneath his name: Innovative Businessman & Loving Husband. I brought my fingers to my lips, placed a kiss upon my fingertips, and then transferred it to his name. ‘I shall never forget you, dear Henley.’

Nothing seemed real. I waited to feel his familiar hand on my shoulder. He would turn me towards him and look at me. Really look at me. I’d gaze into his bright eyes and they’d tell me that my leaving had been nothing but a dream. He’d be here to stay for good and his lips would come crashing down on mine.

I sighed as I turned to the tombstone beside his. Eliza P. Beauford, Loving Wife & Daughter. For the first time, I really registered the dates of her death. She’d only survived a few years after she and Henley had married. Still, I was glad those two wonderful people had made even a brief life together, and hoped they’d found some happiness with each other. Briefly, I wondered whatever had become of Christine, but then laughed to myself as I realized it really didn’t matter, and I certainly couldn’t care less. The important thing was that Eliza and Henley had turned to one another, and I still loved them both dearly.

‘You know, it’s pointless to relive old memories. You’ll soon forget them, anyway. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.’

I hadn’t heard Miss Hatfield walk up behind me, but this wasn’t unusual. Sometimes I wondered if she was more than an immortal – whether she could just appear wherever and whenever she wanted. It didn’t surprise me any more when she showed up out of nowhere. I moved over to sit for a while on the bench that faced the two gravestones.

‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. You usually are,’ I admitted to her. The noonday sun gleaming behind her made her look like a silhouette against the sky.

‘That’s right. You’re learning,’ she responded. ‘Well, do come along when you’re ready. We must be off soon. Not everything has ended with the return of that painting. We have things to do, you know.’ With that, she turned and walked away. I was a bit surprised she didn’t just de- materialize, since I was ninety-nine per cent sure she could if she wanted to.

‘I’ll be along shortly,’ I called after her. I stood and walked over to stand in front of the headstones to look upon them one last time. ‘Goodbye, Henley.’ I paused, but I knew what I had to say. ‘I love you. I hope you’re happy, wherever you are.’ Then I turned to Eliza’s. ‘And the same to you, Eliza, my friend. I’d never encountered spirit and courage such as yours before. I’m glad you and Henley had a few years together, at least.’

As I turned to follow Miss Hatfield, a piece of paper, charred around the edges, fluttered to the ground. It appeared to have fallen out of the sky, but I knew it must have slipped out of my pocket. I bent down to pick it up and examined it with curiosity.

I remembered that when I’d exchanged my long gown for this sweatshirt, I’d taken this paper from the pocket of my dress and transferred it to my sweatshirt pocket, in a desperate attempt to somehow keep a part of Henley with me. I suddenly realized this was the paper I’d caught in the fire, and I didn’t even know what it was.

For the first time, I really looked at it, turning it over to see if I could make some sense of what I’d recovered from the past. It looked older than ever before. I knew it was now about a hundred years old, even if it had taken a short cut. I turned it again, stroking it softly with a trembling hand. The paper was folded over and felt as though it contained something.

I was startled to find written on the outside of the folded paper, in very clear cursive handwriting: To my darling Charles. With all the love in the world, Ruth. The note to Mr Beauford from Henley’s mother! As I unfolded the paper, I saw that enclosed was a photograph.

‘Are you coming or not? We can’t afford to be seen out in public so often. You never can tell who’s watching.’ Miss Hatfield was nearly at the cemetery gate, preparing to lead us to who knew where. She was still her impatient self.

‘Just a minute,’ I called out, hastily trying to stuff the photograph back into the folds of paper. But as I looked closely at the photograph, I gasped in shock.

The photograph was clearly Miss Hatfield. She was Ruth. It suddenly became obvious why she couldn’t retrieve the painting herself, and had me remain, despite her misgivings, until I finished the job. She’d also possibly hoped for a connection with those she loved, if only through me.

I carefully slid the photo back into the folded paper, just as I’d found it. I saw flashes of my Henley’s smiling eyes, heard the clear ring of his laughter when he was genuinely amused, felt his breath upon my face from our one passionate encounter. My cheeks flushed, and I did what I always did these days to centre myself back in the present and try to leave the past behind – I turned the ring with the blue stone around on my finger, quickly, three full revolutions.

I began walking, and hurried my pace to catch up with Miss Hatfield. She spoke to me without looking my way.

‘Forget about it all,’ she said. ‘You didn’t even belong there. You’re an immortal – you don’t belong anywhere.’

I stayed silent, but I could only think of Henley.

‘Innovative Businessman’ it said on his gravestone. A hint of a smile curved my lips when I remembered how he’d dreaded taking over the family business. Had I touched his life and changed the direction it was heading in? Had Henley kept a memory of me throughout his life, however small a thought it might have been?

I closed my eyes and couldn’t help but laugh, because I knew that I’d changed him and played a bigger role in his life than I’d imagined. I laughed because I knew in that moment, somewhere in time, there was that boy I knew – the one with the clear blue eyes that crinkled when he laughed – and he’d kept a memory of a girl he’d once known. Someone who teased him back and looked forward to the verbal jousts they used to have. That boy kept a few words imprinted in the back of his mind, so when he walked in the park, he could remember her. And suddenly she walked alongside him.

‘Henley?’ I whispered.

I couldn’t see him, but I felt him nearby, as if, in a different time, he was standing next to me, holding my hand.

‘I love you.’

The wind carried my voice away, but I was certain he heard me. The trees around me bowed their heads in reverence for the words I uttered.

‘I love you, too.’