That afternoon, after the tour of Whitegold Farms ended and Henry and Sir Reginald were in the park, enjoying the scenery.
"I enjoyed that tour of Whitegold Farm." Henry said, taking a small bite of a red apple he and his uncle had brought from a shop.
Reginald smiles. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. You look happy. I like this Henry."
"So do I, Uncle," Henry admits, taking another bite of his apple. It tasted sweet, sweet as he imagined Hilda's lips will taste... no! 'Don't think that Henry! She's a lady!' His mind screamed.
"Such a sweet person, isn't she?"
"Yes. Miss Montague is a wonderful woman."
Sir Reginald smirks. "Who said I was speaking of Miss Montague?"
Henry swallows his apple bite before looking at his uncle with a mischievous smirk. "Then I will tell Auntie about your mishap."
"Oh, you!" Reginald scolds his nephew, playfully shoving his shoulder, "You'd tell on an old man because I notice you like the Montague girl? Nephew!"
Henry chuckles at his uncle as they notice a flash of fern green walk by Albrecht's toy emporium and Sir Reginald chuckles, "If it's not Miss Montague, then whom?"
"Auntie or Mama." Henry suggests without a moment's thought.
Reginald exhales, "Ah. Well, Miss Montague shares similar qualities to your mother. They're wild, free-willed, and I'd imagine they'd be as thick as thieves had your mother lived long enough to visit us and meet her."
Instead of listening to his uncle, Henry watched Hilda walk by the toy store and twirl around on the street.
Hilda is like Mama.
They're both so carefree, spirited and adventurous. They didn't let society stop them from enjoying their day.
Hilda cares about Australia, about animals and treating them as equal as man. She's passionate, caring, sweet, smart, with a sense of humour you only got when you're around her for a while.
Men tipped their hats, women curtsied, children laughed and smiled, every reaction aimed at Hilda when she passed them.
"Come on. Let's head back home or your auntie will send the redcoats to a search party." Reginald sighs, sitting forward and rising to his feet.
Henry got up and followed his uncle out of the park. They walked along the road where horses pulled carriages and carts passed by.
Henry and Reginald passed Albrecht's Toy Emporium. Henry noticed Hilda gazing up at the sky. In the distance, a horse-drawn cart zoomed by, causing a commotion. Henry's darker eyes darted, and he hyperventilated.
"Hilda!" Henry calls out, his brown eyes widening with terror at the scene, and without a second to think, he acted.
As Hilda turns, she sees a horse-drawn cart coming straight at her. Out of nowhere, a man jumps over her, pushing her away from the cart. Hilda lands on the dirt road, with Henry lying on top of her, holding onto her, his eyes closed as he hears his name.
"Henry?" It wasn't his uncle calling him.
"Henry?" It wasn't Hilda calling him either.
"Henry!" It was his mother!
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The atmosphere inside the grand house of Clovesleigh Abbey was heavy with silence and sorrow. The storm that had raged on the night of the 6th of July had left its mark, and now Helen Brookshaw lay in her bed, her face pale and her breaths shallow. A fall from her beloved horse, Nova, on the slick ground had brought on the fever that now ravaged her body, leaving her weakened and frail. Going was that light that fought against the harsh gust of wind?
YOU ARE READING
Striking Gold
Historical FictionIt's 1852, and the Australian Gold Rush has begun. Hilda Montague loves Australia, the country she's lived in since birth. Henry Brookshaw despises it, the country he's been sent to by his widower father to spend the summer with his aunt and uncle...
