He was silent for almost a minute. Then, finally, he said, “Yes. Very much.”
“Perfect. Because I would very much like to wear it.”
Trem moved to close the box but Henrietta stopped him.
“What about you? Shouldn’t you pick something too?”
“I already look just like the man,” he said. A certain artificiality in this tone told her that he was working to sound jocular.
“Was that his penknife?”
Trem nodded. “It’s sharper than it looks.”
“Much like you,” she teased. He cracked an easy smile. “Take the penknife. Carry it with you. Just so you have part of him with you.”
Again, he waited—and then nodded.
Henrietta stood and came around the bed, placing both hands on his face.
“Thank you,” she said and pressed her lips to his, hoping he could feel all that she left unsaid in her kiss.
*
Half an hour later, Henrietta had dressed, and she was ready to speak with her brother. Trem had ridden out early, saying he needed the exercise to clear his head. After the intensity of their conversation that morning and the state of things with John, Henrietta understood why he might want to do so. And the truth was that Henrietta was glad he was off the premises for a stretch. She needed to speak to her brother alone. She was sure that supplications from herself would make him come into a right humor about her impending marriage.
When she descended into the entryway, she found it in disarray. Footmen were running to and fro and Bonner, the butler, was stage-directing the dissemination of luggage. Guests had begun to arrive for the wedding. The realization sent a thrill of anticipation up Henrietta’s spine. The wedding seemed like it was really going to happen.
Still resolute upon finding her brother, she rounded the corner to the breakfast room, but was stopped by a very welcome sight. Cassandra stood in the hall with her fiancé, Sebastian, and her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Seymour.
“Cass!” she shouted and her friend turned around. They embraced and Henrietta felt tears press against the backs of her eyes. She had missed Cassandra more than she realized. She had come to rely on her lack of conceit and calm way of evaluating the world—she didn’t realize how she had been feeling a bit at sea without her perspective.
“Henrietta,” Cassandra exclaimed. “It is so good to see you. And looking quite well.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth, just contained for the sake of her parents.
Henrietta shook Sebastian’s hand and those of Mr. and Mrs. Seymour.
“Mama,” Cassandra said, “would you mind if I went to the gardens with Henrietta? I want to see the ruins.”
Mrs. Seymour looked around Tremberley Manor, regarding it as if it were a bachelor den of iniquity—which, Henrietta supposed, it still technically was.
“Very well. But only ten minutes. I will see you in the breakfast room shortly.”
“Yes, Mama,” Cassandra agreed, and Henrietta nodded her head in thanks. Cassandra grabbed her arm and Henrietta guided her in the direction of the gardens. Once they had rounded the corner, Cassandra exclaimed, “What happened?! Why did you fly from London? I do not understand.”
Henrietta sighed. She knew this question was coming—and she dreaded what she might find out about Mr. Redmond and the editorship. Furthermore, she did not want to tell Cassandra that she had felt envious of her relationship with her mother. First, because she knew Cassandra would laugh at such a proclamation, given how her mother kept her on such tight leading strings. Second, because her best friend and Mrs. Seymour had been so welcoming to her, so kind, that she hated the idea that they might find her ungrateful.
“We were with you that day,” Cassandra said, pain entering her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me of your plan?”
“I didn’t have a plan, Cass. It was impulsive and foolish of me. I felt—well, I went to see my mother, you know, Mary Forster, although she goes by Mrs. Ryerson now.”
“Of course, I can understand why you would have wanted to see her. But why at that moment?”
“It’s hard to explain—I was just struck with the fancy, I suppose. But I really think I wanted to see her before I married. It seemed like something I should do before I made such a big change to my life. And seeing you and your mother together…well, it made me think of it, I suppose.”
To Henrietta’s relief, Cassandra merely nodded. “I understand. I worried terribly for you when I saw those awful notices in the paper. Everyone has been talking about it. For a while many doubted the wedding would take place. But then when Lord Leith and Lord Montaigne said that the betrothal was unbroken—and your brother said the same—the gossip died down. Luckily, for my sake, Mother insisted from the beginning that the scandal sheets must be wrong.”
They passed out of doors and into the gardens, wending down towards the iconic stones.
“Trem was shot,” Henrietta felt the need to clarify. “But that was a complete accident. Percy thought that he was a highwayman.”
