Chapter Two

Standing in her bedchamber, Henrietta turned her gaze from the busy London street beyond the window to her lady’s maid, Lucy Dutton. The young girl was folding a beautiful pale blue dress into the trunk, along with her other belongings for the journey to the countryside.

“I am quite looking forward to this ball,” she said to Lucy. “It has been quite some time since I saw my sister, but from her letters, I know she is making an excellent viscountess. This house gathering will be a grand way to spend time with her.”

“Indeed, milady,” Lucy answered, smiling over her shoulder at her. “You shall have a most wonderful time in the countryside. The viscount’s home there is very beautiful.”

Henrietta had visited her sister in the countryside since her marriage to Lord Hartley, a wealthy viscount.

“Their love match is very admirable.” Henrietta sighed, sinking onto her bed. “But I do not care much for that sort of thing. You know me, Lucy. I wish for… broader horizons.” She gave her lady’s maid a secret smile. She glanced at her bedroom door, listening for a brief moment for any sign of footsteps on the stairs or down the hallway. When she heard none, she hurried over to her writing desk.

In there was a secret compartment within the top drawers. With a key that hung on a chain around her neck, she unlocked in and reached in to close her fingers around a leather-bound journal. She brushed her fingers over the pink string that tied the front and back cover together, enclosing her deepest secret.

“Tuck it between my gowns,” Henrietta whispered, handing the book to Lucy, who did as instructed. “That way, even if anybody thinks to check my trunk, it shall not be seen. Perhaps between the second and third gown at the bottom.”

“Of course, Henrietta,” Lucy whispered, giggling. When they found themselves in private, Lucy addressed her by her given name as the two of them had become close friends, perhaps unconventionally so. But Lucy enjoyed talking, and Henrietta had always wished for a close friend to confide in who did not only talk of suitors and balls. Ever since Caroline had left to marry Lord Hartley, Henrietta and Lucy had grown closer, their loneliness blossoming into a friendship.

“Have you written anything new of late?” Lucy asked.

“Since you asked me yesterday?” Henrietta teased. “No, I do not believe I have.”

Her journal was filled with her deepest secret: her love of botany. It detailed every plant she loved, every herbal remedy she had recreated and concocted herself, and every note on plant growth, herb tending, and optimal flowering seasons. It was her pride and joy, and her most coveted passion.

It served as the link to her great aunt Ruby Wentworth, and the summers she had spent at her great aunt’s manor.

She was ever so kind to me , Henrietta thought. Her great-aunt had lived out in the countryside, in a sprawling manor that was covered in wisteria. Every day had been spent in the sun, beneath her parasol, wandering the gardens, exploring the different paths, crouching down in her fine gowns to take notes on the flowers that bloomed along the pathways and fountains. It had been extensive, endless, and Henrietta had delighted in the luxury of it all.

Aunt Ruby’s manor had allowed her to take specimens of plants from around the world, herbs and plants she could not find in London, or even in the surrounding towns. The manor had been filled with sunshine and warmth, not only from the season but her aunt’s manner. She had been loving, kind, attentive, and cultivated Henrietta’s love of botany.

In contrast, the coldness of Turner House, the townhouse where she lived in London with her parents, was unsettling and upsetting.

“I was thinking about—”

“Henrietta!” Her mother’s shrill voice came from downstairs. It was an alarm—a bell to answer, always a demand and never a request. It made Henrietta shudder. “You must make haste in your preparations! I shall not endure the embarrassment of telling the viscount that his sister-in-law is the reason we are late.”

“We are not even departing tonight,” Henrietta muttered to herself. Then, to Lucy, she resumed, in a whisper, “I was thinking about finding a plant of some sort that might aid migraines. I understand peppermint and ginger root do but… I wish to find something that can be ingested without a lot of preparation. Something to chew on, perhaps. I think I can concoct—”

“Henrietta! I shall not ask you again.”

Her mother’s sharp voice rang through the house, and Henrietta stood up straight, as if the countess was in the room directly. Lucy met Henrietta’s gaze knowingly, sighing. It was not just Henrietta who suffered the burden of her mother’s icy impatience and rigid ways, but Lucy, too. As her maid, Lucy went everywhere with Henrietta. She knew exactly how the countess would behave, especially at a ball that her own daughter held as a viscountess.

“She shall be insufferable in the countryside,” Henrietta whispered, trying not to show her distress. But Lucy reached out and squeezed her hand encouragingly.

“And as always, I shall help you through it,” she promised. “Now, let us not forget why Lady Goodheart is frustrated in the first place. We must finish your packing and have your trunk ready to depart with everybody else’s.”

“Quite,” Henrietta muttered. “Heaven forbid I make everybody late. Not to mention that there could be delays on the road itself. I should be honoured my mother thinks so highly of me that me delaying packing shall delay the whole ball!”

Lucy sniggered but they hushed themselves.

“Do not be late for dinner,” came Lady Goodheart’s voice once again. “We are going for several days, Henrietta, you do not need your whole wardrobe.”

Henrietta rolled her eyes. It was not a whole wardrobe she took the time to pack but her belongings that meant a lot to her, that she felt empty without if she were to leave them in Turner House. Her journal, of course; a locket from her aunt Ruby, even if she did not wear it; her favorite charm that she held for good luck; and a seeing glass, a small, flat spherical piece that helped her to better see the plants she examined. Her mother thought of Henrietta as a blushing, dolled-up lady of the Ton, and Henrietta played the part well but it was the botanist in her that packed the trunk, not a lady needing many gowns to only last a several days’ worth of a journey.

“Of course, Mama,” Henrietta answered dutifully. “I shall take care to do as you suggest.”

The footsteps echoed down the hall, retreating. Henrietta rolled her eyes and turned back to watch Lucy fasten her trunk closed.

“I have rather good feelings about your trip to the countryside,” Lucy whispered. “I believe you shall find this plant you are looking for among your sister’s estate.”

“It shall be a new turn in my research if I do,” Henrietta decided, nodding. “Now, I shall attend to the preparation of dinner before my mother faints from her incessant exclamations.

***

There was the silence of a spring day, with only the breeze to weave through the grasses, sending them billowing–a tranquil solitude that Henrietta craved.

And then there was the silence of the dining hall that evening.

The stark contrast nestled within her heart until Henrietta could no longer bear it. She was not often one to reduce silences but today she simply could not stand the heavy silence, broken only by the clinking of cutlery.

“I think Caroline will be glad to see us, do you not think, Mama?”

Her mother spared her a brief, withering glance as she pieced asparagus into her mouth. Pointedly, her mother paused. “Henrietta, if you take your mind off your sister for a moment you might begin to focus on your true task for visiting the countryside.”

“Indeed.” Lord Goodheart, her father, interjected. “Henrietta, you must focus. The ball will be ample chance for you to begin meeting suitors. Only today, at the gentleman’s club, some other lords were discussing their sons who shall be in attendance.” He gave her a meaningful look. “That includes Lord Philip Barnsdale.”

“You shall be on your best behaviour,” her mother interjected.

Henrietta stared back and forth between them, realizing she had made a mistake in breaking the silence.

“Yes, Mama. Yes, Papa.”

“That means no soil beneath your fingernails,” her mother chided. “And Heavens forbid your lady’s maid do her job in presenting you properly. I shall never live down the embarrassment of when you greeted Lady Barnsdale at the end of Season ball last year with a mint leaf in your hair!”

“It was a fern,” Henrietta mumbled.

“None of this mumbling, Henrietta,” her father scolded. “You shall speak with confidence and grace, as your governess instructed you.”

“I have not needed a governess in some years, Papa.”

“Then why is it you are not married, hm?” Her mother questioned. Between the two of them, Henrietta’s mood dropped and dropped, until she miserably pushed around her vegetables.

“Of course, in attendance, there shall be the viscount’s brothers,” Lord Goodheart said. “Lord Hartley has proven an excellent match for Caroline. He has a brother not two years younger than him.”

Henrietta fought the wrinkle of her nose. “Papa, I only wish to spend some time with my sister.”

“And you shall seek out suitors while you do that. You are twenty years old now, Henrietta, you cannot expect Caroline to cater to your side at every social gathering.”

“I do not,” she argued lightly.

“There will be none of that at the ball,” Lady Goodheart snapped. “Pray, do refrain from any impertinent retorts, Henrietta. It is expected that you maintain a demeanour most polite and express a sense of gratitude. You must embody the image of a most proper young lady, as we have endeavoured to cultivate. However, for the love of Heaven, do ensure that Lucy attends to the brushing of your hair with greater diligence next time. Goodness, there are quite a few tangles near your visage. Such a state is simply unacceptable.”

“Do not blame Lucy,” Henrietta spoke up, frowning. “She was packing my things and I told her my hair looked perfectly fine.”

Her mother gave a scoff. “It is perfectly not fine. We shall have none of this unkempt appearance when you enter Lord Hartley’s estate.”

Their voices continued, and Henrietta lapsed into silence.

“Your posture is awful, Henrietta. Did you not listen to your governess when she taught you the proper way to hold oneself? And your face! We must do something about the uneven blush. We cannot have you looking as though you are coming down with something in front of Lord Philip Barnsdale.”

“Indeed, no.”

“And remember not to eat too much cake, Henrietta. You do not want to fill out all your dresses after we have spent a lot of money at the modiste for the Season.”

Henrietta craved that silence of a spring day. She craved the whisper of the wind through the grasses, and the peace of her aunt Ruby’s gardens. So very expansive and tended to by Henrietta herself. In Ruby’s house she had shed the propriety of a lady, donned some gloves, and gardened right along with the staff.

She could almost feel the velvety petals beneath her fingertips, and the coarseness of some plants she grew. The way the blades of grass would irritate her soft skin but she never once minded.

“Above all, Henrietta, you must make a good impression. Your sister did, so I do not understand why you make it such a difficult task.” Her mother shook her head as her father listed off other suitors in attendance at the gathering.

Their names left her mind as soon as he said them, scattered like dandelion seeds on the wind.

Her mother poked at her fingernails, her hair, her dress, the downturn of her mouth as she sullenly ate.

“And do not forget to ask polite questions about your suitors. I am sure your father can tell you about each one so you have some background knowledge and questions to think of,” Lady Goodheart continued. “You have a duty, as did Caroline, to marry well, Henrietta. You cannot burden us forever with your life in this house. You must marry and do well for yourself. Heavens, after two failed Seasons you have caused us to be the topic of enough gossip. Do you not think of us at all, Henrietta?”

She swallowed, shrinking into herself.

“See? This is the sort of silence that shall have men like Lord Ashley Darby walking away!” her father complained. “He is young, wealthy, a very eligible man. I hear he and his cousin, Lord Patrick Tenson will be there as long as we shall be. These are the men you should speak with, Henrietta.”

“You must marry,” her mother continued. “You must secure a match and see your family looked after in society. You have a duty to us.”

Henrietta nodded, vacantly forking more vegetables into her mouth so she did not have to talk. But her mind was drifting far from the table, as the weight bore down upon her. The societal pressure was never something she endured well at all, and she felt that pressure close up her throat. She swallowed, wincing, wishing they would stop just for a moment.

I shall not pursue botany when all I am good for is societal duties , she thought miserably.

Her mother’s voice rang in her ear. Henrietta nodded at the right moments, long accustomed to her accusation and criticism. They were ashamed of her, and soon, they would throw her not at young lords but older men who were desperate for a wife.

And they would give her to them, knowing her chances dwindled with each failed season and each smear against their name.

Her shoulders were rigid with the worry of that being her future.

But she did not want to do what society expected of her. She wished to stay in the field of flowers in Aunt Ruby’s house, and bury herself in the grasses and herbs and the earthly smell of soil and not have to worry about balls or marriage.

It had brought her the utmost freedom, those summers spent at her great aunt’s estate.

“Henrietta.”

The snap of her mother’s voice brought her back. She startled, blinking.

“Yes, Mama?”

“Have you finished eating?”

Henrietta looked down at her half-eaten dinner. “Yes, Mama. I—I am too excited for the ball and having another chance to meet suitors to fully finish my plate.”

Her father looked pleasantly surprised at the confession. Henrietta could play the part for now. “May I retire for the night? I wish to sleep well before we travel.”

“Of course,” her father said gruffly. “Good night, Henrietta.”

When she made it back up to her room, she closed the door and unpinned her hair, letting it fall about her shoulders in her long curls. Lucy was there, knocking on the door, prepared to ready Henrietta for bed.

She combed her hair out—including the tangles—and unlaced her dress before helping Henrietta into her nightgown. Together, the two sat on the edge of Henrietta’s bed, their voices pitched low.

“I know I must feel excited about the gathering and the suitors I shall meet but all I can feel is the utmost dread, Lucy,” she confessed. “My mother and father need me to meet a suitor and be courted into a marriage, like Caroline, but I simply cannot promise my life away in such ways!”

“I understand, Henrietta,” Lucy murmured sadly, clasping her hands. “And as much as I wish to encourage you to pursue only what you wish to I know it is not so simple so I shall hope for this. That whomever your suitor is, I hope he has the most vast garden so you may lose yourself among the brambles and the plants.”

Henrietta let out a weak laugh. Perhaps Lucy was right. Whether it was one young lord or another, there was hope that he would have beautiful gardens to rival even Aunt Ruby’s.

“The weight of society is too heavy,” she lamented. “Some days I cannot bear to shoulder it.”

“But you do not have to do so alone,” Lucy reminded her.

“No,” she agreed. “I shall not. For you will be with me the whole time, and I will weep and wail with you if ever I am forced into such a terrible arrangement.” She mustered a smile but her mind was on the countryside.

Perhaps Lucy was right. Her future husband might have a beautiful garden, and if he was old, then perhaps he would not notice if she snuck out to enjoy her botanical love. If he was cooperative, he might even let her build her own hothouse.

Maybe she could find one thing positive out of all of this.

My sister’s gardens are bound to yield something. I shall sneak out at some point to explore .

If only she could escape the watchful eyes of her parents. But she would find a way. She had to.

For among the flowers she might find, Henrietta was sure she would feel close to her Aunt Ruby once again.

If you liked the preview of “Her Guarded Duke’’, you can get your copy now for FREE with Kindle Unlimited HERE.