Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Hetty swung the basket against her hip as she walked down the garden path. It was officially the last day of summer. Tomorrow, it would be a new month and a new season. Tomorrow, it would be autumn, and the leaves on the apple tree would slowly start to change colour and fall to the ground.

She hummed softly under her breath as she swung the rusty old garden gate open. Della, who was trotting at her heels, barked suddenly, scrambling in her haste, to run through the field. Hetty laughed, so full of joy that she could barely contain it.

She looked down at her gown and the white apron that covered it. A day at home, at Hillsworth Manor, before she left the house, forever. She did not know when Louis would arrive to claim her, to whisk her away to Scotland, so that they could get married, but she knew that it was going to happen. She had patience, and she had faith.

As she walked slowly, basking in the rays of the sun on her skin, she thought of Louis, at Warwick Manor, with Ben. The last day of the hearing, when the court had decided that her marriage to Frank Blackmore was to be annulled, he had received a letter by urgent messenger. Benjamin had taken ill again, and was fretful, wanting his father. Louis had been torn between wanting to spend the day with her, celebrating, and wishing to see his son.

"Go," she had urged him. "There is plenty of time for us to be together now. Ben needs you, more than I do, at the moment."

He had left her, regretfully. That had been over a week ago. She received letters from him every day, telling her how much he missed her, how much he longed for her, and how Ben was improving, but still wasn't fully recovered. The physician thought he might have croup; apparently, he had a barking cough that would become uncontrollable, and he would struggle for breath. The physician had assured him that many young children caught it and recovered. But Hetty could read between the lines of Louis's letters, that he was worried.

She was worried about Ben, too. But since she was not there, at Warwick Manor, she could not ascertain with her own eyes how serious it was. And she knew that Louis panicked about his son, as was normal. Her mother had told her that Hetty had suffered croup as a baby, and made a full recovery. She had prayed for the little boy, but there was little else she could do.

It had been on her mind, daily, to just journey to Warwick Manor, so that she could help nurse him. But her father had shaken his head, saying that even though the court had announced her annulment, there was still the slight possibility that Frank Blackmore might lodge an objection. She could not risk journeying to Warwick Manor, as he might get wind of it, and use it against her. They would only be safe once Louis had finally put that ring on her finger to make her his wife.

She was almost to the apple tree. She stopped, gazing upon it. The apples were nearly gone; most had fallen to the ground, and there were very few good ones left, the ones that remained on the branches mostly rotting, or picked clean, by birds. The cycle of fruition was almost over for another year.

She kept walking, feeling a slight breeze ruffling her hair. She would miss this place and all it had meant to her. She smiled faintly, thinking about Louis, again.

The apple tree had always been a favourite place of hers since childhood. But it had taken on new meaning now. Vividly, she remembered when Louis had pushed her on the swing, and it had collapsed. How they had laughed together as he pulled her to her feet, and they had shared a special moment of connection. It had been the very first time that had foreshadowed how deeply they would come to feel about each other.

She blushed. And there was another memory, of when he had kissed her, for the very first time, beneath this tree. How he had fiercely gathered her up in his arms and explored her body, giving her the first inclination that there was hunger of another sort. That touch was a language, all of its own. Once she had opened her ears to the words of that language, it was as if she was born again, as a new person, entirely.

She sat against the tree trunk, gazing into the distance, the basket on her arm discarded. She had a vague inclination when she left the house to pick the last of the good fruit on the tree for the cook to make into apple cobbler. But now that she was here, a lethargy had overtaken her, and all that she wanted to do was watch the rolling green hills and be at one with the day.

The last day of summer. All things pass.

Della ran off, nose to the ground, possibly following the scent of a rabbit. Hetty closed her eyes for a brief moment. There was the low rumble of thunder in the distance. She opened her eyes again, frowning slightly as she saw the grey clouds rolling over the horizon, marring the perfect blue of the sky. But it was far off and might pass over, in any case. She had time, still, to enjoy the day before she returned to the house.

It was done. It was over. She was a free woman.

Every day, as soon as she opened her eyes, and the fog of sleep passed, those same words rushed into her head. She would feel the same overwhelming relief that she had felt, in that court, when the bishop had finally proclaimed that she was no longer a married woman. The sheer, overwhelming joy of it that she had managed to pull it off.

She still couldn't quite believe it. She had to pinch herself that it was real, and that she was finally free to marry Louis. She wanted it, more than life itself. But there was also pure joy in the vindication that she had cleared her name, as well.

That she was no longer the abandoned wife, the disgraced wife, the woman who had been made a fool of. Now, she had never been married at all. She was not divorced. Her marriage had been annulled, been declared null and void. For all intents and purposes, it was as if it had never happened.

She breathed deeply, overwhelmed with that sweet relief and joy, once more. Perhaps the joy of it would never truly leave her, even as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. Even after she had left all of this behind, and it was just a dim memory, perhaps a kernel of that pure joy would still be there, buried deep within her.

She had been given the chance to live again.

Her eyelids started to droop slightly. It was warm beneath the sun, despite those ominous rumblings of thunder from far away. She heard the drone of bees buzzing, collecting their nectar from the last wildflowers in the field, and the trill of birds in the trees. She closed her eyes, her head tilting against the rough bark of the tree.

I miss Louis so much, she thought, as her mind began to drift. I know that I shall see him again very soon, but it does not change the fact. When, oh when, can we finally be together?

She shivered beneath the warm sun, missing him so very badly that it was like a physical ache in her chest. It had only been a week, but it felt like a year. She shivered again, thinking of his hands touching her body. His lips, searing her skin. How she wanted him. How much she would give to be lying in his arms now, and for his mouth to be drifting down her body like a chain of fire, scorching her flesh …

***

She woke suddenly, jolting upright, her heart pounding hard within her chest. Where was she?

Slowly, consciousness returned, and with it, an ache in her back and neck. Ruefully, she massaged her neck, releasing the muscles. She gazed around. She had fallen asleep beneath the apple tree. Della was asleep, too, snoring gently, her golden head upon her lap. Hetty let out a sigh of relief. The dog could easily have run away into the hills.

She blinked. The sky had changed. It was no longer the deep, pure blue it had been, marred by the grey clouds. Now, it was almost completely metallic grey, the colour of a musket, and just as foreboding. A single raindrop fell on her forearm. She should get back to the house before it started pelting down.

She got up abruptly, causing Della to awake with a yelp, shaking herself. Heading down the track, that same yearning for Louis nipped at her. Another lonely night without him. How could she endure it?

But her footsteps started to slow slightly as she gazed ahead. Someone was walking through the back gate of her house towards her. A tall figure dressed in green britches, a black jacket, and a crisp white shirt. High riding boots and ruffled, unruly dark hair.

Her heart clenched. It was Louis.

She didn't hesitate for a moment. She picked up the hem of her gown and started to run towards him, panting in her haste. He was here. He had come to her. At last.

He was running, now, too, striding towards her. It seemed to take forever to get to him. It seemed that her legs could not carry her fast enough towards him.

But eventually, they met, almost colliding in their haste to get to one another. He picked her up, as if she were a doll, twirling her around in the air. She laughed breathlessly, her heart pounding in her chest. He laughed, too, a joyous sound that seemed to fill the air.

Finally, he put her down, his arms still around her, gazing down at her intently. She gazed up at him, her eyes eagerly taking in every little thing about him. The black stubble, just visible, beneath his jawline. The circles of weariness beneath his eyes. The way that he was smiling, a little wearily, but with relief, as well.

"You came," she said, breathless, feeling almost like a blathering fool.

"I came," he said, laughing again as he gazed at her.

"How is Ben?" she asked, reaching up, to stroke his face.

"He is much better," he said, his smile widening. "He got up today and was running around, tearing around the nursery like a spinning top. The physician saw him this afternoon, and said that there was no need to attend him any longer." He paused. "No need for me not to come to you, at long last, my Hetty. Oh, it feels like it has been years since I last saw your face …"

She gasped, her eyes filling with tears. "It has been exactly the same for me! I almost felt like I could not remember your face, anymore, even though it is etched upon my mind, for all of eternity …"

They kissed, then, lingeringly. His lips felt like coming home. When at last the kiss ended, she clung to him, burying her face into his chest. She never wanted to let him go.

He pulled back, staring at her, oddly. "Hetty," he said, in a stiff, almost formal voice. "There is something that I need to say to you." He paused. "Something that I need to ask you …"

"Well, what is it?" she said with a laugh, still breathless with happiness.

He suddenly knelt down on one knee, taking her hand. "I know that I have already asked for your hand in marriage," he said, his voice thready with nervousness. "But I have not done it properly. Not at all. You deserve a proper proposal …"

Her heart soared, and her eyes filled with tears as she gazed down upon him.

"Henrietta Arnold," he said, in a quiet voice, his eyes intensely green. "Will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?"

She couldn't help it, then. The tears started to stream down her face. She didn't even bother to wipe them away.

This man. This man, who had waited so patiently for her to fall in love with him. This man, who claimed that he had loved her from the moment he had laid eyes upon her, all those years ago. This man, who had stood by her side, during the darkest period of her life, while she had tried to push him away in her pain, never giving up on her, or their love. This man, who had vowed he would wait for her for years, if necessary. For the rest of his life.

This man was the real thing. This man had given her the world. This man had given her back her life.

How she loved him. How she would love him forever.

"Yes," she whispered, nodding her head. "Yes, yes, yes!"

At that moment, there was a large crack of thunder, so close that Della yelped in distress. The rain started pouring down, soaking them. He leapt to his feet. They were both laughing so hard that they could barely breathe.

"What?" he yelled. "What did you say?"

"I said yes," she yelled back, laughing harder.

He kissed her, deliriously, hungrily, as if the rain was not pelting down upon them, plastering their hair to their scalps, soaking them to the core. After a few moments, they slowly parted, staring at each other.

"You had better get used to this," he yelled, wiping the rain from his eyes. "I have heard that it rains a lot in Scotland." He paused. "The carriage is waiting to take us there. Right now."

She laughed harder, almost delirious with joy, gazing down at her sodden gown. "Do we have time to change?"

He grinned. "Yes. But don't tarry. I cannot wait to make you my wife, Miss Henrietta Arnold. We must set off before I lose my mind entirely …"

He grabbed her hand, and they started to run through the rain together, jumping the rapidly forming puddles on the ground. Della looked like a drowned rat, leaping around, almost chasing her own tail. They were almost to the gate. She could see Mama's face, a pale oval, peering through the back window, looking worried.

She stopped suddenly, letting go of his hand.

"What?" he yelled, gazing at her.

She took a deep breath. "There is something else that I need to do."

Quickly, she loosened the gold ring that still encircled her finger. Her wedding finger. The gold ring that Frank had slipped on claiming her for his own, all those months ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago, now. She had been another woman entirely. Had it truly been she, who had stood at the altar beside him, vowing to love, honour, and obey, for the rest of her life? She would not recognise that woman at all, now. She did not know her in the slightest.

It was a little bit tight. She tugged at it before it suddenly came off her finger, lying in the palm of her hand.

She stared down at it for a moment, as the rain kept falling around them. It felt good to have it off her finger. She didn't know why she hadn't done it months ago.

And then, she hurled it, throwing it, with all of her might. She could see it spinning like a top in the air, the glint of gold against the grey sky, before the rain subsumed it entirely, almost swallowing it, so she had no idea where it landed.

It was gone forever. Just like her first marriage was gone. She was glad that she had not kept it as a memento, for there was nothing to feel nostalgic about. The court had officially ruled that her first marriage no longer existed, but it had always been that way. She had never been a married woman, in any manner. She had certainly never loved the man.

She smiled slowly, thinking about how scared and alone she had felt, the morning she had discovered that Frank had deserted her, thinking that her life was over. If only she had known what was ahead. If only she had known that another man was about to step out of the shadows, blinding her entirely. A man who was finally going to show her what real love was. A real man who knew how to love and be loved, in return.

"Come on," he yelled, gazing at her as if she had gone crazy. "Time is ticking …"

She laughed again. And then, she took his hand once more, running into the house, and into the future, that awaited them both.

She simply could not wait.