The Bainbridge Estate

Chapter III

“Henry,” I greeted him the next morning, “I require a carriage.”

His eyes were shadowed and refused to meet mine as he stared at the fire in the kitchen. “What for?”

In my mind, I could envision our first encounter, with his barbaric entrance and my frightened shriek from the ground where he sat on a chair now. I shook my head, dissipating the memory. “I need to visit town.”

He sighed malevolently, his words black and cruel as he stood. “As soon’s the mistress is ready.”

“I’m ready as we speak,” I responded, flinching at his nature. His unruly curls were falling into his eyes even as he stood looming over me.

“Morning, Miss Margaret,” Anne said starchily as she entered the kitchen, making a straight path to the preparation table. Her eyes washed over my attire widening with astonishment. “That dress was your mother’s.”

I peered down at my deep brown gown that matched my eyes. The skirt opened in the front to reveal a creamy petticoat, lined with golden designs, both on the hem of the petticoat and on the opening of the dress. The sleeves went all the way to my wrists and I had tucked a white fichu into the neckline to protect my neck from the cold weather. I had draped my black cape over my shoulders to further blockade the cold from permeating my skin. “Yes, it was,” I replied, smiling at her. I saw her cold eyes soften, like they had at the mention of my father, but after a moment, they hardened again. I took a breath.

“I’m goin’ t’ fix the care’ge,” Henry said flatly and left the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

“I wish I knew what plagued him,” I said, using the brush by the brick fireplace to sweep the ashes back into the fire pit. The flames hissed when the ashes struck the burning firewood.

I could sense Anne’s piercing eyes on my back. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“Why he’s so pugnacious is what I mean. When we first encountered each other, he was pleasant. Until I began mentioning strange events that only happen in hallucinations, he provided courteous company. Now I can’t fathom what I’ve done to make our relationship so undesirable,” I explained, putting the brush away and joining Anne at the preparation table. She was watching me intently, her round blue eyes squinting at me as I spoke.

“Now, Miss Margaret,” Anne began, setting her knife down, abandoning her cold meat. “Henry is a mysterious young man. Just as the sky may be bright one day and cloudy the next, Henry abides by the same principle. He may appear welcoming one morning and distant that afternoon. Soon enough, you might find yourself enjoying his ambivalent nature. For now, however, patience is the key to relating to him.”

I picked up a jar full of green leaves and turned the cool glass over and over in my hands. Patience on his behalf was quite tolerable, yet I still did not understand why he had become so icy to me recently.

The jar began shaking in my hands and I shoved back onto the counter, my head still reeling with the memory of yesterday’s incident. I had noticed the china shards were gone and the cabinet had vanished from the parlour, but that only made the memory more potent.

“Oh, and Miss Margaret?” Anne said. I looked at her long face. “I ask you not to breathe a word of this to Henry.”

“Of course,” I agreed. Surely my first covert conversation signified my welcoming into this household.

The door whisked open, spilling frigid air into the house. The fire’s flames danced threateningly. “Missus,” Henry said breathlessly, “the care’ge is ready.” His eyes went to Anne’s and I felt like I was holding the short straw again, like I missed out on something relevant.