The Bainbridge Estate

Chapter V

Living alone had seemed perfectly dreadful when I had first arrived, bizarre as it was to my companions in London, but now it was customary. I was used to the cold drafts and retrieving a blanket for myself instead of having a servant do it. On this particularly cold evening, the night of my uncle’s arrival, Anne and I were huddled around the fireplace in my bedroom.

She leaned against the marble mantle, her legs stretched out underneath her nightgown whilst I reclined on the Grecian sofa, the warmth overwhelming the cold winds whistling in through the cracks in the walls.

“Your mother and I would do this on cold evenings just as we are now.” Anne sighed, her eyes turned towards the ceiling. “If not for your blonde hair, you would look identical to her.” She smiled at me just as the door creaked open.

“Henry,” Anne said delightedly.

“I jus . . . I wanted t’ make sure you ladies were warm,” he said. His eyes skirted across the floor timidly.

“Come in,” she added and though my heart ricocheted in my chest, I steeled my will and watched him shut the door behind him. He lumbered over to our sitting area and stood, looking very out of place. He remained in his work clothes, while we were sitting in robes and nightgowns. “Where did you keep warm?”

“The kitchen,” he replied, and then he looked at me. “M’lady, London would fare you bet’er than Bainbridge durin’ the cold.”

“London is nearly as cold as it is here,” I said to him. My energy was exhausted; I had none to hate his incessant nagging. I sighed and pointed to the other chair Anne had refused to sit in. “Go on, sit.”

He did so and rubbed his hands in his lap.

“Henry,” Anne asked and he turned his attention to her. “Are you aware of the state of our guest?” My heart leapt at her words. Our guest. As if she was including me in our. Elation poured into my veins.

“No, Anne.” He chuckled, his lips parting in a half smile, one of the closest things to a smile I had seen on his face since our first meeting. “He had a bi’ o’ trouble settlin’ down. Not used t’ rustic bedrooms.”

“Tell me, is it too cold for his brittle skin?”

“I don’ think he could ever get cold. Wit’ all that flubber, he oughta be a warm whale!” Henry’s mouth fissured into a grin and the very sight made me smile.

“Should I not expect a cry for more blankets, then?”

“If he does, I oughta dangle ‘im over the fire like a pig.” He rubbed his hands together to warm them and I saw his shoulders were hunched.

At once, I arose and fetched him an extra blanket from my bed. He thanked me and while a light snow began to descend from the heavens, we three enjoyed a night full of grins and fire. Eventually, we all slumped our shoulders and slipped into a blissful sleep, unaware of the trials that would come to pass.

 

 

 “Where in God’s name is my breakfast!”

I shot up from my soft pillows of arms, nearly tipping over to the floor. My eyes were shooting all around the room. What was this? A new nightmare? What would await me outside of my bedroom? For the first time in forever, I had slumbered peacefully, and whatever peril lingered for me, I feared it would be worse than any I had faced so far. I opened the door, sewing my lips shut, quite aware of Henry and Anne’s sleeping bodies behind me.

Alas, my new nightmare was not of any hallucination, but bore the resemblance of an angry cow storming down the hallway. Cows, however, do not typically wear a nightcap or gown, and do not have long blonde hair.