Chapter 6
‘What do you think, Thea?’
The words cut through Thea’s daydream about comfrey fertiliser.
She had begun to lose herself in thoughts of growing again since her visit to Speckle and Frankie, but a get together with the society ladies at Emma Fairclough’s grand London townhouse wasn’t the best time.
Seven hawkish pairs of eyes were trained on her, awaiting her next move.
She desperately tried to backtrack through the sounds that had recently reached her ears, to see if she could identify any context at all.
She couldn’t. She maintained a serene duchess-worthy countenance as panic set in.
‘Perhaps the week after next would be best?’ asked Harriet, placing her cup on the marquetry table between them and fixing Thea with a stare.
‘You spoke of a number of engagements next week and a trip to the theatre with the ladies,’ she emphasised the latter words, ‘might be best when it is able to be fully savoured?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Thea, relaxing a little into the velvet-covered chair and thanking Harriet with her eyes. ‘The week after next works excellently.’
‘Delightful,’ said Emma. ‘I shall have Hawkins book us all in together. ‘Catherine and Alice can’t wait for you to see it.’ Thea expected she would find out what it was when she got there.
She picked up her tea and took a calming sip before she realised it was Harriet’s – at least three sugar lumps making it sickly sweet.
‘Ugh,’ she said. Everybody looked at her.
She tried to make her smile look impassive.
Cecily took a sip of her own tea and the cup dinked quietly back onto the saucer.
How had Cecily managed to fit into society when she couldn’t?
She supposed that when one was married to Neville Knatchbull, perhaps the society ladies were light relief.
‘I thought perhaps next week when we meet, we could consider china dessert services. I believe Winnie has a new one with a dolphin on it,’ said Emma.
Winnie Hatchett, Emma’s cousin, clapped her hands together. ‘How delightful. I shall bring as much of it as I can with me.’
Thea felt Harriet’s eyes boring into her from her right.
She knew that she and her friend felt the same about dessert services.
But Emma was seemingly in charge of the group, and Emma always picked the topic.
That meant that they never discussed the spheres of science, medicine or gardening as Emma didn’t find them as socially acceptable as other, more ladylike topics.
Thea didn’t mind art, China and literature, but she didn’t love it either, and wished the whole thing could be a little more democratic.
She was sure Alice would love hearing about wentletraps, given half a chance.
Although she did her best to fully inhabit her duchess persona, Thea felt very small sandwiched between Emma’s heavy curtains, gilded ceilings and dripping chandeliers, and the lady’s forthright opinions.
‘And how are you, Mrs Henry?’ Helena Crowe addressed Harriet from across the circle of chairs in the Fairclough’s salon.
‘I am continually impressed at your fortitude given your situation.’ Thea watched Harriet carefully.
She knew her sister-in-law and that the question would be designed to gather gossip rather than offer sympathy, but she also knew that Harriet managed these situations with deft prudence.
Whilst she and Harriet artfully avoided meaningful conversations about relationships, she did know that Harriet did not lament her husband’s absence too greatly.
‘I am healing, thank you,’ said Harriet, pressing a hand to her ample bosom and managing to sound so genuine that Thea almost laughed.
‘You are very brave,’ said Winnie, placing down her cup so she could listen unhindered. ‘It was so wrong of him to just leave you like that.’
Harriet gave her an appreciative smile. ‘Such a shock,’ said Harriet, which Thea also suspected was a lie. ‘I know one has to bear it and so many people have it so much worse, but it isn’t easy when–’ She broke off, feigning emotion.
‘Take your time,’ said Helena, sitting forward and barely concealing the glee in her voice at the possibility of gaining a sliver of information. Her fingers played over the scrolled mahogany arms of her chair.
‘I really mustn’t burden you ladies with my distress,’ said Harriet.
‘Oh no, you must,’ said Cecily – genuine concern on her face and moving her chair to sit closer to Harriet.
She took her hand. ‘A problem shared is a problem,’ she faltered.
‘Made smaller.’ Harriet patted her hand and took a theatrical breath.
Thea looked around as the circle lapped it up.
She sat back to enjoy her friend’s display.
Each time the story of Hugh’s leaving got a little more dramatic, and she knew Harriet revelled in it.
‘It is only that when one walks into the Italian cottage one is renting with one’s new husband and finds him kissing the maid, the images stay with you, as I am sure you can imagine.’ She peered around the ladies who had gasped, almost as one. Cecily put her free hand over her mouth in horror.
‘Actually kissing her? You found them together in the cottage? How awful for you!’ Catherine sounded like she could hardly believe it. The ladies murmured their agreement.
‘Indeed, it was, Miss Penny,’ agreed Harriet, ‘but I made arrangements to return the very same day and vowed that I would never trust my heart to another man for the remainder of my life.’
Thea was sure she saw Emma’s face cloud.
‘Quite understandable,’ said Helena, looking like she couldn’t wait to leave and spread the news. By now Cecily was halfway out of her chair and had her arms around Harriet’s shoulders, tears in her eyes.
‘Thank you for opening up,’ she said. ‘It is hard, but it is so healing.’
Harriet nodded and patted Cecily’s hands clasped around her. Thea was about to rise to announce her departure before Harriet could ham it up to more unbelievable proportions, but then saw the admonishing glare directed from Emma to Harriet. Harriet saw it too and stood quickly.
‘I might just take a moment.’ The ladies nodded.
‘I’ll go,’ mouthed Thea to the rest of the circle, tipping her head towards Harriet’s retreat.
She padded over the deeply piled rug, swayed through the heavy door and joined her friend in the lavish corridor.
‘That ended quickly,’ she said kindly, joining Harriet resting on a fancy, inlaid cabinet by the window to the street beyond.
‘Necessary.’ Harriet’s fingers played over the smooth wood. Her usually ebullient nature seemed a little diminished.
‘You enjoy playing with them,’ said Thea gently.
‘I do,’ said Harriet, a little of her mischievous smile lighting her once again. ‘But the games can only go so far. Even I know that.’ Thea thought of the look that Emma had levelled at Harriet and wished that she and her friend could talk openly.
‘You know you can…’ Thea began.
Harriet cut her off. ‘I mean… Hugh’s reputation.’
‘Of course,’ said Thea, straightening a little. She understood that whatever Harriet held close, it had to stay secret, for now. The silence between them was unusually loaded.
‘How much of that was true?’ she asked gently, hoping she could give Harriet the opportunity to share whatever she wished.
Harriet smiled contritely. ‘A little. Hugh and I did part ways in Italy.’ Harriet said no more, and Thea nodded, understanding that this was all the information Harriet would share, for now.
But Harriet eyed her. ‘We have to get through however we can, don’t we?
When…’ she paused, unusually earnest. ‘When one’s life, or circumstances, or self are a little…
queer.’ Her eyes met Thea’s seemingly questioning, testing.
Thea swallowed. She didn’t know if Harriet inferred what she thought she did, but didn’t dare voice anything further, and certainly not in the sage-green hallway by Emma Fairclough’s fancy French furniture. ‘We do,’ she agreed, taking Harriet’s hand and squeezing it.
Harriet squeezed back. ‘One day.’
‘One day,’ she confirmed, keeping Harriet’s eyes, her heart thudding a little faster at the almost-acknowledgement of the situation. Then she looked around her and gestured to the parlour door. ‘Do we need to stay any longer?’
‘I do need to see Speckle,’ said Harriet.
‘Boils playing up again?’ Harriet’s eyes warmed, and Thea knew she was grateful to be back to their comfortable teasing. She felt a poke at her waist, through her stays.
‘Piles, this time,’ said Harriet. ‘F…lipping massive.’ and strode off, calling to the maid for her shawl and leaving Thea slack jawed behind her.
Thea didn’t need to see the doctor, neither did she need to travel to the north of the city, but she accompanied Harriet anyway. Moral support, she told herself. Nothing to do with the little bit of excitement and recognition she had found in the physic garden a few days earlier.
Speckle’s eyes lit when he saw them both.
‘Your Grace, and Mrs Henry,’ he said, smiling.
‘What a pleasure. And right on time as always, I was just finishing up Mrs Henry’s tincture.
Your Grace, you are welcome to wait inside, or you know your way around the garden?
’ He understood her already, she thought.
Good doctors knew you had to take care of more than physical ailments.
‘I will have another look around, if you don’t mind?’ she said, already stepping towards the path to the back garden.
‘And what is wrong with this rosemary?’ came a gruff voice as she emerged into the greenery.
‘Age, sir,’ came a female voice with a thick, south-of-the-river accent. ‘They have a lifespan.’
‘Then why is it still here?’ the cold voice asked.
‘It has a little useable material left for creams. I have struck cuttings and I will switch it out next spring.’
‘You will switch it now if you know what’s good for you.’
‘Yes, sir.’