Rakes And Radishes Part 8

When the gray, dull light of the London morning peeked under the heavy curtains, she crawled out of bed, taking a blanket with her. The floor was cold, and the fire had long since burned to ash. She pulled the servants' bell, then sat at the mirror and examined her reflection. Yes, she was horrid in all aspects. Her lids were heavy, drooping down over her red-rimmed eyes. Her muscles felt loose and shaky from lack of sleep.

The maidservant from the day before bustled in, crisp and alert, making Henrietta feel even duller. She wound Henrietta's long braid into a simple knot, then tightened her stays and sewed her into a plain cotton morning dress with quick and efficient fingers.

Once she was alone again, guilt consumed her thoughts. Why did it feel like someone took a knife and slowly cut away her skin whenever she upset Kesseley?

Outside her chamber, she heard the creak of his door opening. She ran out to the hall. Her words fell out in a jumbled heap. "Kesseley, what I said was unforgivable. I haven't slept at all. I feel horrid. Please, please say you aren't so terribly angry at me. Please tell me how I can make this up to you. I can't bear it."

Henrietta could have run straight into a stone wall for the cold anger radiating from him. If he'd had a sword, he might have run it through her heart.

"Please," she whispered, putting a tentative hand on his arm. She could feel the contours of his stiff muscles under his green coat. He didn't push her away like last night.

"Let us just forget about it," he said in a tight voice.

"Yes," she whispered, relieved.

They stood staring at each other, awkward, not quite sure how to go about forgetting it. "W-would you like to go to the Royal Academy or the Agricultural Society?" she offered.

"Thank you, but no, I am going to a club."

Don't leave! she thought. Couldn't they go back to the excitement of yesterday, before the park, when everything was new and exciting? Not this silence and coldness. she thought. Couldn't they go back to the excitement of yesterday, before the park, when everything was new and exciting? Not this silence and coldness.

He looked pointedly at her hand, issuing an unspoken command to remove it from his arm. When she did, he nodded goodbye and brushed past her. She could hear him call for Boxly. She imagined the butler putting him in that old caped greatcoat with the worn elbows.

Then the door closed.

She hurried downstairs to the parlor and watched him leave through the window. She could see the swing of his strong shoulders as he walked away, getting smaller, then disappearing around a curve. Samuel padded in, hefted his big front paws into her lap and gave her hand a lick.

"You've been left behind, too?" she said.

Samuel gave her a sad, brown eye. She scratched under his ears. "Would you like to go for a stroll?" He jumped down and splayed his legs, letting out a sharp bark.

Henrietta rang for Boxly and told him she was going to the park with Samuel and requested a leash. He returned with a rope that looked as if it were used to lead horses. Good enough, Henrietta decided as she heard Lady Kesseley stirring upstairs. Grabbing her gloves and tossing on her bonnet untied, she quickly fled the house before having to face Lady Kesseley again.

It was apparent not ten feet from the door that Samuel had never been on a leash, and hounds had scented every inch of London. Samuel dug in his nails between the pavers, his thick neck taut and hard, refusing her tugs on the leash, fighting to sniff every mounting block. He pulled her down a street of neat white row houses, running parallel with the park. She hadn't the strength to rein him and clung to his leash, taking a brisk canine tour of Mayfair. She could just see the sign for Oxford Street when Samuel lifted his nose in the air, picked up a new scent, then veered toward the park to the place Kesseley had flagged the hack the afternoon before.

It certainly wasn't fas.h.i.+onable hour. The park was almost empty but for the people in dark, worn clothes, eyes averted, quietly hurrying to other destinations. She pulled Samuel onto the path, and he actually started to trot beside her, like a good hound.

This was much better, almost enjoyable, as the cool wet, morning breeze blew under her bonnet, tingling her cheeks. For a moment, the sun popped out from between dense clouds and sparkled through the tree leaves. Henrietta's heart lightened.

A rather proper elderly man with a pearl-handled cane pa.s.sed her. Henrietta smiled. He only scowled.

What? She looked down. Samuel was hunched, defecating on the soft sable sand.

Samuel!

"Wait here!" she ordered. Samuel's ears didn't perk up, like they did when Kesseley issued commands in his deep voice. He just kicked the dirt with his back paws.

Henrietta hurried over to the trees, looking for a fallen stick. She found a nice one with broomlike spindles and turned to brush Samuel's mess off the pathway, but when she turned back, he was gone!

She pivoted on her heel. No Samuel anywhere.

Oh G.o.d. Not only did Kesseley hate her, but she'd lost his dog!

She saw the end of the leash, disappearing down a path. Ughh! She dropped the stick and chased after Samuel, her bonnet dangling behind her head.

Despite his girth, Samuel was fast. He had chased a squirrel up a large oak, and the creature now sat on a branch fluffing his squirrel tail, taunting Samuel. She grabbed the leash and yanked it.

"I told you to wait, Samuel!"

He only laughed.

Wait, dogs didn't laugh. She was going mad.

Coming around a bend in the path was a group of giggling young ladies, cl.u.s.tered about a handsome couple, walking serenely arm-in-arm, their heads bowed together as if they were conversing in sweet lovers' whispers.

Good G.o.d! Edward and Lady Sara were not twenty feet from her. She couldn't move. She couldn't do anything. It was like watching the oncoming carriage, the pounding of the horses' hooves, the inevitable impact.

Lady Sara was beautiful, perfectly beautiful, a walking masterpiece of art. Pale, unblemished skin glowed in the morning light. Small blond curls, the delicate kind that didn't frizz like Henrietta's, peeked out from her bonnet. She had high graceful cheekbones and full, pale pink lips. Henrietta's heart sank. How could she compare to such radiance?

And the way Edward gazed at Lady Sara. There was a wondrous light in his eyes-one Henrietta had never seen.

"Samuel, come here!" Henrietta hissed. He ignored her, of course. Using some Herculean strength she never knew she possessed, she dragged Samuel by his hind legs behind the tree. Squatting on her knees, she hugged his big chest and buried his head in his fur.

Please don't see me! Please don't see me!

They were just beyond the tree, a few steps from her hiding place, close enough to hear the poem he was reciting: "Amid the roses, you slumber Dressed in white, An innocent mystery in sight, The muses of sorrow and delight Implore to me to pause In my midnight flight At this garden gate And look upon my soul's fate."

His female audience gave a collective "ahhh" while Henrietta bit down on her lip, hot tears burning her eyes. Then that abominable little squirrel picked that very moment to scurry down the tree and across the path. Samuel gave a powerful lunge, pulling Henrietta with him. Thud! Thud! Her head hit the path. Everything went black. Her head hit the path. Everything went black.

A moment later, she opened her eyes. Big fluffy clouds pa.s.sed overhead, little birds twittered and Edward's green eyes were looking down at her. A deep warmth spread over her heart.

"Oh Edward, you do do love me," she whispered. love me," she whispered.

"Good G.o.d! Henrietta!" He kneeled beside her. A bead of perspiration ran down his forehead. "Are you hurt? Are you well? What the h.e.l.l-what are you doing here?"

Why was he so upset? "I'm walking Samuel."

"No, I mean here in London?"

Then everything came back in one big whoos.h.i.+ng wave of remembrance.

Oh yes, I'm in London, lying on the ground in Hyde Park. And Edward loves Lady Sara.

"Can you sit up?" he asked.

No, she just wanted to lie there until the gra.s.s grew over her and she completely disappeared. However, that wasn't an option, for Edward practically yanked her from the ground by her elbow, causing her to fall into him. The familiar lean lines of his body rubbed against her chest. She stayed there, her body refusing to let go, nestling deeper into him.

"Mr. Watson, do you know this lady?" said a sweet, concerned female voice.

Edward leaped back as if stung. Lady Sara approached, her furrowed brows shading her bright eyes.

"Lady Sara, may I introduce Hen-Miss Watson. She is my...my..." Edward looked at Henrietta, his Adam's apple dropped. Henrietta's insides trembled. Well, what are you going to say? Well, what are you going to say?

"My cousin," he whispered, then averted his eyes.

Everything inside Henrietta turned numb.

Lady Sara's friends exchanged glances, as if to say that's her. that's her. Like Henrietta was a novel they had all read. Only Lady Sara remained composed. She took Henrietta's hands. Like Henrietta was a novel they had all read. Only Lady Sara remained composed. She took Henrietta's hands.

"My poor, poor dear. I was so distraught when I saw you fall. I thought I might faint myself. Are you well, Cousin Henrietta-may I call you Cousin Henrietta? For any cousin of Mr. Watson, I consider a dear cousin as well."

"Yes, please," she said weakly.

"Dear cousin, you are not well. Let us walk you home," Lady Sara said, entwining her arm around Henrietta's elbow.

"No!" she cried, stumbling backward at Lady Sara's touch. "I can't go home. B-because I-I have to clean up. You see, Samuel, he relieved himself on the path, and everything is so clean here. And so I have to, umm, brush it away."

"Mr. Watson can take care of the hound." Lady Sara gave Edward a lovely smile, the kind that would send a gentleman scurrying to scoop up dog excrement. Then she turned that smile on Henrietta. "And we shall walk you home. We must become acquainted, for I am sure we will be like sisters."

"Really, Cousin Henrietta, let us take you home," Edward said. "I cannot just leave you here."

You've left me before with less concern!

"Please just go," Henrietta said quietly, covering her eyes, hiding her hot tears.

"Henrietta-" Edward began.

She turned and walked away. She could feel their shocked gazes on her back. How those ladies would laugh about her. She didn't care. She just had to make it a few more feet around the corner.

Out of their sight, she stumbled to a large tree and wept on its hard bark. Oh, Edward, don't leave me. I have nothing else. Oh, Edward, don't leave me. I have nothing else.

"Is this your dog?" a male voice asked. "I saw him run away."

Henrietta turned, but all she could see was the blurry outline of a man and a brown blob. She wiped her eyes. It was the artist from yesterday, with Samuel sitting beside him like an obedient dog.

"Samuel," Henrietta cried weakly.

The artist put a large, warm hand on her shoulder, his kind-hearted eyes gazing into hers.

"Are you well? May I help you?" he asked.

"You shouldn't touch me. You shouldn't talk to me. It's wrong," she whispered, still clinging to her tree.

"By the sad standards of English society probably, but not by the universal principles of compa.s.sion and love for all living things."

Henrietta's chin trembled, her throat shut tight.

"Did you know that couple?"

"Him," she squeaked.

"Oh," he said, as if he readily comprehended the situation. She could only imagine the extent of his understanding. All kinds of lurid scenarios played out in her head, none she had the energy to correct.

"Should I return you to your family?" he asked.

Henrietta blinked in confusion. Did he know her father?

"The people you were with yesterday. Is that your mother?"

"No. I am her companion."

"Shall I return you, then?"

Henrietta shook her head and tightened her grip on the tree.

He tried a new tactic. "Would you like some chocolate? I have some chocolate from Belgium in a jar by my easel. There is a bench there. You can sit."

He took her elbow, cautiously separating her from the tree as if she were an injured animal. "Come, come," he a.s.sured her.

He led her along the water to a wooden bench, carved with people's names and spotted with bird excrement. A few inches from the water, his easel stood, one brash stroke of blue streaked across the canvas. He rooted through a faded, cracked leather satchel and brought out a thin, delicately painted teacup and a jar of chocolate. He set the teacup on the bench beside her, filled it, then handed it to her. She traced the teacup's delicate gold painting with her thumbnail.

"It's from Venice. I've lost its mates. Perhaps I shouldn't have carried them around in an old satchel." He sat down on the ground at her feet, raising up one knee and holding it with his rough, wrinkled fingers.

She didn't say anything, just studied the deep chocolate swirling in her cup.

"Can you describe this sky? I can't capture it," he said, his light blue, hooded eyes squinting at the sky.

Henrietta gazed at the coal-ridden clouds being carried by the wind over her head. "It's a blue that wants to be blue, but can't be blue because all this gray dust and clouds perpetually block it. It longs just to be blue, but it can't."

"It is the confusion that confounds me."

"Do you sell many paintings?"

This made him laugh, a free, deep belly chuckle. "I'm no artist. No J.M.W. Turner. I hope you don't think that. My painting is a philosophical exercise."

"How?"

"Learning to look at the world and let it be. The sky in London is restless and nervous. In Germany, a blue sky breaks forth only in the summer. It is bold, adamant to have its day. In Italy, the blue sky glows vibrant and free over the ocean, refusing to be clouded. And the blue sky is endless in the Americas, as if there was nowhere else in the world."

"You've painted all those skies?"

"Poorly, yes."

Henrietta looked closely at his weather-beaten face. He was quite handsome, actually, and younger than she had a.s.sumed. Despite the wild ma.s.s of white hair on his head and graying beard, his body was robust and wiry.

"Where have you been?" he asked. "Where has Lady Kesseley taken you?"

She stiffened. Had she said Lady Kesseley's name? "Nowhere. I'm actually her neighbor," she said cautiously.