The House Guest (Unedited)

Chapter 13: The Azure Bonnet

I clutch the woven basket in my blistered palms so tightly that my knuckles alter to a deathly white. Though we are miles from London, the air is thick, humid and unhealthy against my skin as I enter the village -- clinging to me like an uncomfortable wool shawl. The kitchen staff were kind enough to accommodate me, lavishing my small woven basket with an abundance of nourishment: a tin of gravy, carrots, chicken breast, turkey legs, apples, loaves of bread, fish, potatoes, and chocolate pudding - a treat I am sure the children will enjoy.

The village is not unlike what I have seen at Lady Dorothea's estate. Masses of people mill aimlessly about the marketplace, women with torn dresses holding screaming babies to their hips, an elderly woman bartering for food, men with nothing better to do crashing about the Pub, engaged in an intense fist fight.

"Excuse me, do you happen to know where Betsy Lancaster lives?" I ask a petite woman with dirty clothes. She reeks of something awful -- perhaps as a result of a lack of bathing, and it takes all my strength not to turn way and rid myself of the crude stench. She warily ushers me to a house, a shack rather -- the tired roof sagging with age, window frames sloped in defeat from a lack of maintenance.

"Excuse me, I'm Betty Lancaster's friend. I've arrived with food, and I'm here to care for you this morning." I call out, feigning cheerfulness to the hazy darkness as I let myself in, as Betty instructed me. There is no answer, but a wheezing cough. I follow the sound, and bring a match to the kerosene lamp, hoping to illuminate the cottage. Two middle-aged people I presume to be Betsy's parents are sprawled upon blankets on the ground, and I gasp. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that they were dead. Vomit and urine litter the floor -- four young children, Betsy's siblings, are huddled together in the corner, timid grey eyes peering up at me with curiosity chubby, dirt smeared faces contorted in weak fear. The littlest girl bursts into tears, gathering her head in her hands.

"Do not worry little one," I coo soothingly, grabbing a cloth to wipe her face clean, and smooth her hair back with a loving hand, "I'm here to help you."

And so, I set to work.

First, cleaning the vomit and urine off the floor, then washing the children's faces, and placing cool towels on the parents feverish heads. I set out the food for the family, which the children gladly devour. After I prepare some hot herbal tea for the children, setting aside some of it for the adults, I clean the cottage, clearing away all the residue, dusting, sweeping, and polishing. My mother  used to say "une maison propre est une maison saine," -- a clean house is a healthy house -- and though I'm not sure if that statement is true, I don't see the harm in tidying up. When my work is done, and the children's spirits seem to have been significantly lifted and their stomachs are full, I decide to take my leave, but am disturbed by a harsh tapping on the window.

I jaunt towards it, and am shocked to see Kitty, her cheeks ruddy with colour and her blue eyes wide with excitement, wild red hair begging to escape her pleats. "Helene!" She shrieks, "Look at my new bonnet!" She presses an azure velvet bonnet to the varnished window, awaiting my reaction.

"Kitty! You mustn't be here, what are you doing?"

"I followed you here, and I was curious to see what you were doing. Oh - I see children in there! Let me in, so I may see them!" Before I can stop her, she pushes the ajar door open and slips through it, dashing into the cottage and skipping around as if she thinks we are playing some sort of game. When I attempt to stop her and remove her from the infectious one-room cottage, she only gallops around faster, giggling loudly and inspecting the children's play things. Finally, I arrest her disobedience and pull her out of the cottage, my heart beating swiftly against my chest.

"Kitty, you mustn't ever do that again," I warn her forbiddingly, "those children were very sick. And, you might have disturbed them with all the noise you were making -- or even have fallen ill yourself."

She stares at me impassively, then begins to chat about something entirely different, clearly not grasping my words in her naïve mind. I return Kitty to the estate, and when I am departing to my bedroom, I practically stumble into Henry.

I dip my head, and scurry away.

"Helene Maria Lovell!"

I freeze in my place, straightening my shoulders and gathering my courage.

"Good day Henry," I cough, "I mean - Mr. Caldwell."

He examines me beneath a furrowed, heavy brow, then clears his throat. I brace myself for his next words.

"Dearest, most beautiful Helene. Marry me."

~~~