Cursed Page 3

  She glanced over her teacup at her father. Could she keep something like this from him? She thought of her father and Prudence discussing her - and yet no mention had been made of it by either of them. Perhaps this could be her secret; something upon which even Prudence could not make a judgement.

  Her mind made up, Henrietta wished her family a good day and hurried from the breakfast room. Down in the kitchen, she filled a basket with food - giving Mrs Huggett the vague notion that she was going visiting - and then donned her outdoor garments and left before anyone could question her. The basket was heavy and thudded against her hip. Henrietta had pondered her next move and had decided that she would take the basket no further than the clearing. The gamekeeper’s lodge was in the deepest part of the forest and she’d no wish to venture there. It had always felt a little forbidding to her; the trees were denser and cast a deep gloom. In any case, should the ogre prefer to keep his distance, she would not intrude on his territory.

  Reaching her little clearing, Henrietta put the basket down. It occurred to her simply to leave it there and go - but another part of her wanted the ogre to know this was a peace offering. From what Mr Briggs had said, the ogre had met with a great deal of hostility before finding sanctuary at Riverly. Her screaming at the mere sight of him might very well have signalled to the ogre he was no longer welcome even here; that he was about to lose his refuge.

  Feeling in the pocket she kept tied at her waist, Henrietta plucked out her book. She carried it with her at all times and had read it until the pages were worn and frail. It mattered not to her how often she read the tales of chivalrous knights and their fair maidens. They never grew dull. As silly as it might seem to Prudence, the tales had informed her ideas of what love was. In Henrietta’s fantasies, the knight was always impossibly handsome, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He would carry out his chivalrous acts with bold daring, ready to fight even the most fearsome dragons for the heart of his lady love - which, in this case, was Henrietta of course. When he spoke, it would be poetry: his every utterance a sonnet; an ode to their love. Was that really so much to ask for? Henrietta chuckled to herself. Fine: she was willing to give up on the dragon-slaying part - but upon the rest she must insist!

  Thud. Rustle. Thud.

  Henrietta stilled. She heard it again: the distant snap of a twig and a dull thud. Had she not been listening so closely, she might easily have missed it. For one so big, the ogre moved with surprising stealth. A frisson of something akin to fear skittered up her spine. It wasn’t fear of the ogre - exactly. She trusted Mr Briggs to have read his character true. No: what she felt was … more a sense of foreboding.

  The sounds of the ogre’s approach ceased. Henrietta, her heart thudding in her chest, pretended to read.

  He sensed her unease. It was clear she knew he was there and yet she didn’t move. Was she afraid? He tipped his large head to the side. His hooded brow creased as he tried to make sense of her actions. Perhaps it was a trap? He looked around. His grey eyes scanned the trees. Was she bait to lure him here?

  He didn’t think so. Not her.

  Still he stayed back and watched Henrietta through the trees. He knew she only pretended to read. She sat cross-legged on the log, balancing her book on her lap, as she had so many times before. But, this time, she looked fearful. He had frightened her the day before. The very sight of him had made her scream. That she had been afraid - that she had run - did not surprise him. But now, she had returned - and that floored him. For one so small, her bravery was impressive. In his time as an ogre, people had either been afraid of him and stayed away - or they had been afraid of him and chased him away. Very few had done any different. It pleased him that she was different. His instincts were right. From the first time he had seen her talking to herself in the forest, the ogre had sensed a gentleness in her. Nothing had changed his impression of her. Henrietta had a blithe spirit and a kind heart and it did not sit well with him to see her frightened now.

  “I will not hurt you.”

  Henrietta started. The ogre hadn’t shouted but his deep, rumbling voice was loud in the quiet of the forest.

  “I-I’m not afraid,” she replied, searching the trees for a glimpse of him. “I brought you some food. I-I made pies.”

  “Why?” A single word - but, to Henrietta’s ear, it rang with longing.

  “I wanted to say sorry … for screaming. And to tell you I won’t tell anyone about you.” She waited for him to say something. “Only Mr Briggs and I know you are here.”

  There was no reply. The silence hung heavy in the air and Henrietta grew self-conscious. Perhaps the ogre was waiting for her to leave. He had no reason to trust her after all. She stood up, tucking her book under her arm.

  “It’s all right. You don’t have to eat the food. I’ll be back tomorrow to collect the basket anyway.” With that, she turned and walked away. The ogre noticed the slump of her shoulders. She looked dejected now - because of him? He didn’t know - but her soft heart wasn’t good for either of them. He was a monster; a creature of darkness. No good would come of her knowing him.

  “Henrietta!” he boomed. She turned back towards him expectantly. He froze, caught by the look in those wide eyes. He was grateful that she could not see him.

  “Thank you,” he said - and her smile lit the forest as though a cloud had released the sun.

  Chapter Six

  Lord Pemberly was looking far too pleased with himself. His daughters were suspicious.

  “Why are you humming to yourself, Papa?” Millicent asked.

  “Can your poor old Father not hum in his own home without it raising questions?” he answered jovially.

  Cecilia narrowed her eyes. “You are not normally prone to such … warblings.”

  “Sorry, Papa, but I have to agree,” Henrietta added. “It is somewhat disconcerting to see you this chipper so soon after breakfast.”

  Lord Pemberly was a man of habit. Usually, he would speak with Mr Briggs then join his family to break his fast before sequestering himself away in his study. But not today. Following breakfast he had announced he wanted everyone in the drawing room.

  They were there now with Lord Pemberly all but bouncing on the spot as they waited for Prudence to arrive. Henrietta didn’t like it one little bit. As it was, she had thought to have a quick breakfast and then go to the forest to collect her basket before Mrs Huggett noticed it was missing. She hadn’t had the chance to go the day before. Now, Prudence was coming and … something was going on. It was all very disconcerting. Henrietta was desperate to know if the ogre had actually eaten the food she had left for him and, if she was being truly honest with herself, she wanted to speak to him again. Henrietta had made up her mind that the ogre needed a friend and that she was going to be it - whether he liked it or not.

  The girls heard a carriage pulling up outside. “Wait here!” Lord Pemberly said cheerfully and hurried out of the room. Cecilia and Milicent immediately turned to their eldest sister.

  “Don’t look at me,” Henrietta told them, “I am as much in the dark as you are.”

  If Father was up to something, she might have been curious as to what it was. If Prudence had been up to something, she would definitely have been wary about what it might be. But knowing the two of them were cohorts in a scheme was, quite frankly, bloody terrifying. They heard Prudence in the vestibule. She was speaking quietly to Father as she removed her coat. The rustling died away and there was a long silence. The three sisters stared at the door, identical frowns on their faces, and then it burst open. Henrietta looked at her father and sister - and just knew something very annoying was about to happen. They were both looking far too pleased with themselves.

  “Girls!” Lord Pemberly said - and then paused for dramatic effect. “I have an announcement!”

  “Yes,” sighed Henrietta. “We were afraid of that.”

  Ignoring her, Lord Pemberly continued, “In a few short days’ time we - that is
to say, Riverly - shall be the sponsors of a tourney!” He beamed down at his daughters, as though waiting for a round of applause.

  “A what?” Millicent and Cecilia asked at once.

  “Do you mean with knights in armour and jousting?” Henrietta asked, flummoxed. She looked at Prudence and smiled, thinking it must be a jest; but her sister did not return her smile. Henrietta swivelled her head back and forth between her father and sister, trying to assess each countenance in turn: Lord Pemberly was looking ready to burst with excitement and had a self satisfied smile on his face; Prudence was looking … determined.

  “A tournament?” she asked again, though more firmly this time.

  “Yes, Henrietta. Knights in shining armour will joust in honour of their ladies - just like the old days.” Lord Pemberly spread his hands out in a “what do you think of that?” way. The gesture was met by three very puzzled frowns.

  “Who are these knights and who are their ladies?” asked Cecilia.

  “Will there be sword fights?” Millicent asked, a note of excitement creeping into her voice.

  “What is the purpose behind all this?”Henrietta asked suspiciously. If it had been only their father involved, she might have thought it had been conceived on a whim; but Prudence was also involved. That was what had her worried.

  Lord Pemberly cleared his throat. “Notices will go out across the land to announce the tourney,” he said self-importantly. “Prospective participants will be expected to arrive in full armour and be ready to take part in a series of contests. Each ‘knight’ will tourney in honour of their chosen lady.”

  “You still haven’t said who the ladies shall be,” Cecilia said.

  “You are quite right, my dear Cecilia.” Lord Pemberly chuckled as though he had been saving the best for last. “The ladies for whom these dashing knights will compete will be you, my dear girls.”

  Millicent leapt up, clapping as though the curtain had fallen on a marvellous show. Cecilia’s eyes widened and a delighted smile tugged at her lips. Henrietta’s suspicions were confirmed. She was not happy. The younger girls, however, were too busy bombarding their father with questions about dates and who might be invited to notice any distress the announcement might have caused Henrietta.

  “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

  Prudence knew very well how her sister loved the old tales of chivalry and courtly love. Henrietta could feel tears of betrayal pricking at the backs of her eyes. “If your intention was to belittle me, then you have succeeded.”

  “Henrietta, please don’t say that,” Prudence pleaded. She sat herself next to Henrietta and pulled out a handkerchief. “The purpose was for everyone to have some fun and for you to meet some eligible gentlemen.”

  Accepting the handkerchief, Henrietta dabbed at her eyes. “But - don’t you see, Prue? - when it is known that Lord Pemberly is inviting these men to compete for his daughters’ hands, everyone will understand that he is - in fact - trying to marry off his eldest daughter.”

  “Of course they won’t. That’s why it was decided that Cecilia and Millicent would be included.” Prudence leaned closer and whispered, “Remember all those glorious stories Mama used to read to us of amour courtois? And how we promised ourselves that, one day, chivalrous knights would set out on quests to prove themselves worthy of our love and admiration?”

  Reluctantly, Henrietta smiled. Of course she remembered well how the two of them used to conjure up fiendishly dangerous feats for their princes to prove their bravery and devotion. Seeing Henrietta’s smile, Prudence patted her hand.

  “You see, Henrietta! That is what you shall have!”

  For two long days, Henrietta had gone back and forth. She was in two minds whether she should simply join in with the preparations for the tournament or hide away and pretend the whole blasted thing wasn’t happening. Though it seemed to matter not which path she chose as it was clearly going ahead anyway. Preparations for the tourney had turned the whole house, and its usual routines, on its head. Prudence had all but moved in and was constantly barking out orders. Her father spent his days up in what he now called the “Tourney Field”, organising the building of the lists and viewing platforms. Her two youngest sisters were busy too, keeping a team of seamstresses at work on an entire new wardrobe of clothes.

  In short, within moments of the tourney being announced, mayhem had ensued at Riverly.

  Escaping to the forest had seemed like the best course of action to Henrietta and, with that in mind, she had sneaked off to the kitchens. After wrapping a meat pie in a cloth, she had managed to creep out of the back door unseen. She had been back to the forest only once since she had taken the food to the ogre. She had found her basket. It had been empty but for a small figure of a dancing girl. Had the ogre carved it for her, Henrietta had wondered. Then she had smiled as she realised the girl was a figurine of her. The ogre must have seen her dancing around the clearing with her imaginary lover. What a strange creature he must think her! She had called out, thanking him for his gift, but there had been no reply. She had listened but heard nothing to indicate he might be nearby. Disappointed, she had left and, in case he should hear her, she had called out a promise to return soon.

  She was half way across the garden, with the forest in her sights, when her father spotted her.

  “Hetty!” he called.

  “Oh blast!” Henrietta muttered, returning his wave. She was unlikely to get away by herself now. Lord Pemberly trotted up, flapping a letter in front of him. “I’ve just heard back from my sister, Penelope.”

  “You wrote to Aunt Penelope?”

  “Yes. Prudence said we’d need female help and she was right.” He nodded, as though just realising the fact. “Aunt Penelope will be here the day after tomorrow and she is bringing reinforcements in the shape of Lady Sanders, a cousin of the second sort, and a Mrs,” he looked down at the letter, “a Mrs Hyde-Thornton. A widow. Apparently.”

  “Are they to stay at the house, Papa?”

  “Yes. We can’t put them up in one of the tents, little hen.”

  “No, of course not.” Henrietta chewed worriedly at her bottom lip. “I shall have to have a word with Mrs Huggett and see what can be done.”

  “Good girl,” Lord Pemberly said with a smile. He patted her on the head. “Shall I take that pie?” he asked, taking it from her. “The men will appreciate some luncheon, I’m sure.” With that, he loped off back to the tourney field.

  Blast and double blast! Henrietta was going to have to go back inside and find Mrs Huggett now. Her Aunt Penelope would be a welcome visitor, though; especially for Millicent and Cecilia, who had spent more time with her than they had at Riverly during the two years of their mother’s illness. But, with everything else still to be organised, it was one more thing that she needed to consider.

  With a long, regretful look at the forest, Henrietta turned and headed back inside.

  The ogre turned away. His second day of waiting was at an end.

  “No more!” he growled

  To think he had groomed. His huge fingers had tried to make order of his thick, black hair. His blade had scythed the stubble from his chin. He ran his hand across his grizzled jaw and shook his head. What an ass he was! Had he thought to make her swoon? He gave a bark of self-deprecating laughter. No: cursed or not, he was not such a worthless fool as to think one so beautiful could ever care for him.

  Chapter Seven

  “Can you not deal with this yourself, Millicent?”

  “She won’t listen to me and you did promise to speak to Prudence about it,” Millicent complained. “She is being a complete pain.”

  “All right, I’ll speak to her,” Henrietta replied, keeping a firm hold on her patience. Her sisters, particularly the two younger girls, had been testing her resolve all day. She found Prudence in the drawing room, arguing with Cecilia about necklines.

  “Absolutely not!” Prudence was saying crossly. She put down her
sewing. “You will look like a common trollop!”

  “Hardly!” Cecilia threw her hands in the air. “Good grief, Prudence! You would have me looking like a cloistered novice!”

  “Well, I certainly hope it’s not too late for that to be an option!” Prudence snapped - and Cecilia poked her tongue out behind her sister’s back. Henrietta stood in the doorway. She had no wish to become embroiled in this discussion.

  “Prudence, when you have finished telling Cecilia why she must wear whatever it is she must wear, can you please go and explain it to our youngest sister as well?”

  “Of course,” Prudence replied - and returned to her sewing.

  Back in the kitchen, Henrietta grabbed a basket from its hook and filled it with meat, pies and fruit. “Mrs Leaven,” she fibbed, “I shall be taking a basket to the village.”

  “Certainly, Lady Henrietta. Should I tell Mrs Huggett when she comes down?”

  “Only if she asks. I shall be gone until supper.”

  Henrietta hurried away. She made it to the cover of the trees without anyone noticing her and slowed to a walk to enjoy the peace and quiet. It felt wonderful to be away from the house and the chaos of the preparations for the tournament. Her sisters were having a wonderful time: busily sending out invitations; ordering dressmakers around; sewing banners. Father, too, couldn’t have been happier. He was out in the lists all day long, organising its construction. But, for Henrietta, it felt intrusive; especially as it was all being done in the hope of finding her a husband.

  It was a silly waste of time. For one thing, she wasn’t very good at playing the coy flirt or the coquettish siren - and that was always what seemed to win the attentions of the eligible young men they met. Had she needed further proof, the Binkley Autumn Ball had provided it. The only dance she had had with anyone to whom she wasn’t related or so old she had to be ready to catch had been Sir Hardwick. Even knowing he had been coerced from a sense of gentlemanly politeness to dance with her, Henrietta had still enjoyed herself. She had thought he had enjoyed their dance as well - but it seemed not. As soon as he had been able to extricate himself from her as tactfully as possible, Sir Hardwick had returned to the giggling attentions of the girlish flirts. Henrietta felt embarrassed every time she thought of it. She didn’t blame him, of course, but - still - she hoped never to see him again.