Masquerade

Chapter 4: Memories

Alabastor, America, 1871

Henry Winchester received a rude awakening the following morning: he was being pulled, rather roughly, off of the study’s leather couch. Although his eyes hadn’t opened until his back hit the hard wood floor, he knew who had done it.

“Abigail sent a message to you,” Stanley said, in a flat voice. Henry opened his eyes, a sliver, and then shut them again when the morning light blinded him.

“What’s the message?” Henry asked, thickly. His tongue felt three-inches thick, and he felt as though he could barely understand himself.

“She was wondering why you weren’t home, and I told her that you had stayed here, after a day out,” Stanley replied.

“Alright,” Henry replied.

“But she wants you home,” Stanley added, to which Henry groaned. He was able to stand up, and stretch, straightening out his back as he did so. He, then, sat back on the couch and cradled his head in his hands.

“Henry, just go home,” Stanley told his friend. Henry looked up at the man and noticed what sad eyes he had. But, Henry wondered, what could Stanley Pierce have to be sad about? Stanley wasn’t married to a needy, young woman, Stanley wasn’t supposed to be worried about his self-image, Stanley wasn’t in love with a woman from his past, who he could, possibly, never get back. Of course, Stanley had to deal with being the man of the house, the head of his family, but that was nothing compared to what Henry had to do, or so Henry thought.

“I don’t want to go and look at the face of a woman whom I don’t love,” Henry grumbled, to his knee caps.

“Henry, I know,” Stanley said, sitting down on the leather couch, beside his friend, “But you have to. What would your mother think, if she saw you acting like this?”

Victoria Winchester had passed on when Henry was a mere ten-years-old. He and his mother were very close; they went on picnics together, she told him tales…she was quite an exciting and imaginative woman.

“She wanted me to be with Mariana, though,” Henry whispered, remembering the conversation that they had had, when Henry first met Mariana Bensen, at the age of seven…

“What are we doing here, mother?” Henry asked, as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of a, rather large, white house. The yard was green and dotted with colorful flowers. Out of the corner of his eye, young Henry saw a tall, dark-haired woman, standing next to a, slightly taller, dark-haired man; two girls stood beside the woman, and a smaller girl stood in front of the man.

“You’ll see, my Henry,” Victoria Winchester told her son. Henry remained confused as he stepped out of the carriage, after his mother.

“Hello, I’m so glad we could arrange this,” The dark-haired woman said, addressing Victoria, warmly.

“As am I,” Victoria returned, with the same warm tone.