The Heather and the Pine

August 14th, 185~

The Major departed today to join our host. There was no change in the young master, but he was peacefully asleep and no longer particularly troubled with fever, so the Major was reassured enough to join the shooting party. As I was clearing away their breakfast things, I overheard him tell the Mistress that the boy's accident was a confounded nuisance, not only because it had meant this embarrassing delay in joining his friends, but because it was supposed to be an occasion for the boy to meet some of his father's fellow officers and impress them in preparation for his joining the regiment.

I mentioned it to Mrs H as we were preparing a light lunch for the Mistress, after the Major had left. "The Major must not know about his ankle. Do you think Miss Charlotte has not told them yet?"

Mrs H sniffed. "She's a peculiar fish, that one. But there's no call for you to be so familiar with the young lady's name."

I flushed lightly, feeling irrationally protective of the doctor's daughter, and guilty for supposing we could ever be close, despite the intimacy we'd felt as she'd rubbed my feet. Never has anyone aroused in me such a feeling of happiness as Miss Charlotte – she need only smile at me or touch my face lightly as she did (never mind my feet!) and I am quite unable to resist my attraction to her. A girl such as Alice might have been a good and helpful friend, and it is surely true that our friendship made the sharing of a mutual and perverse passion a good deal easier. Yet I always knew that Alice was a friend for a certain time, and not destined to be a friend for ever.

Deep in my heart, I suppose I have always wished to find another who may be both friend and lifelong companion, with whom I may enjoy the easiness of mutual happiness that I see sometimes between certain lovers and couples who are lucky enough to find true happiness in each other. Were I free to have my own way, Miss Charlotte should be almost all I could want in such a companion, but it is painfully clear that she is merely being indulgent to me – a lady showing friendship to a maid is after all laughable! – and that, even should our recently-shared intimacy betray some shameful, thrillingly familiar, bent in Miss Charlotte's inclinations, it would be both unseemly and impossible for her to act upon any feelings she may have towards me. Yet more so, of course, if her feelings indeed lie in the direction I begin to wish, and are not merely an indulgent familiarity with the servants.

Whatever the truth, however, she has rarely been far from my thoughts and as Mrs H and I worked, I fancied I could still feel her fingers on my skin, so my talking to Mrs H about the situation was in large part a way of fulfilling my true desire, which was to talk about Miss Charlotte. If I was unable to be friends with her or touch her, or even necessarily see her when she came to the lodge, then talking about her gave me some comfort and was perhaps the natural consequence of having her always in my thoughts. Saying her name was the sole means I had of expressing my fondness for her, of making it real and true.

Mrs H cut a large chunk of cold pie and dressed it with some greens on a plate. "Peculiar young woman," she said again.

Even if Mrs H did not approve of Miss Charlotte, at least her name was on our lips now, and I could be excused talking about her. I kept my voice conversational. "She seems to know her business, anyhow."

"And what do you know about it, Martha?" Mrs H sniffed again and waved her knife at me. "See to that soup, girl. It will want to come off the heat." As I hurried to lift the pan off the heat, Mrs H sighed. "But, you may be right. She seems competent enough, and whatever's in those salts she's giving the boy doesn't seem to be doing him any harm. Even if she is strikingly unusual."

"I like her," I said, feeling a little defiant as I took a sip of the soup to test it.

"What you think about the matter, or indeed about the young lady herself, is neither here nor there, Martha," replied Mrs H, though not unkindly. "Now, how's that soup? Does it need any more seasoning, do you think?"

~

I was busy in the kitchen when Miss Charlotte called, so I did not see her. The first I knew of her visit was when I heard the horse whinny as she remounted to ride off. I hurried to the window, and had to content myself with a brief glimpse of her cantering away down the track.

Mrs H told me later that Miss Charlotte had expected the boy to have woken by now. It seems the ankle was healing well, however, although he would be unable to walk for several weeks. The Mistress had promised to discuss what to do about their journey home with the Major when he returned from the shooting.

I am put out tonight that I did not get to see Miss Charlotte. I hope I shall see her tomorrow.