“He’s your brother?” Henriette arched an eyebrow. “I can see how things run in the family.”
Arthur stared at her with his mouth open. Susan blinked, apparently surprised by her remark. They weren’t stupid; they knew exactly what she was implying.
“My goodness, Henriette, I didn’t know you could be so forthright.”
“Like I said, treat others how you want to be treated.” Henriette put her bonnet on and tied it swiftly. She could adjust it when she caught up with everyone else. She glared pointedly at Arthur. “If you’re not respectful, don’t expect it back.”
Then she stalked away, aware that they were watching her go in stunned amazement.
Arthur stood at the edge of the ballroom and watched Henriette as she danced with yet another young man, laughing as he said something to her. She had been dancing all evening, and Arthur couldn’t help but admire how graceful she was. She floated like a butterfly, but she had plenty of spunk.
While he didn’t like how she had spoken to him, he also liked that about her. She kept her barbs well and truly hidden and knew when to use them.
She was certainly very popular, something Arthur couldn’t understand. She showed no desire to be married, but she had several young men around her, and she seemed to like it.
To Arthur, Henriette Smith was a contradiction.
“Penny for your thoughts, brother?”
Susan appeared at his side, looking resplendent in a pale blue dress. She was the one who had dragged him along to the ball their parents had insisted they attend. They may be in the country for John Myrtle’s health, but that didn’t mean they were to be embittered.
The ball so far, in Arthur’s eyes, wasn’t too intolerable for a country affair. It was fun and vibrant, just as it would be in London. He did his best to be courteous, and a few young women did come around him when he turned on the charm, but most of the guests kept their distance. Somehow his family’s reputation had preceded him, which was making it difficult for him to find new friends.
But it was Henriette that Arthur was focused on. She was laughing, full of smiles and didn’t seem to be slowing down. She was making the most of it. Arthur enjoyed watching her and found himself intoxicated by her vibrancy. This shouldn’t be happening, especially not after their first encounter.
Arthur didn’t mind confrontation, but something about Henriette standing up to him put his back up. It didn’t sit well with him.
“Miss Smith seems to be very popular.” He mused.
“I’ve noticed that.” Susan leaned on the pillar beside him. “She’s been getting lots of men coming up to her asking for a dance.”
They didn’t have cards like they would at a London dance. Instead, the men went up to the women and asked directly. Almost every single dance had Henriette up and moving around the dance floor. Her eyes were bright, and her face flushed from the excessive dancing. Arthur wondered where she got her energy from.
He shook his head.
“I don’t get it. She passes herself off as some type of high-and-mighty matron-like woman, and yet she has men eating out of her hand.” He frowned at his sister. “Does that seem like a contradiction?”
“I suppose.” Susan arched an eyebrow at him. “What’s with the sudden interest in her? Are you smitten?”
“Of course not!” Arthur shook his head fervently. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”
“Arthur, she’s a plain, simple woman who’s passed the suitable age for marriage. That’s it.” Susan grunted as she looked at Henriette resentfully. “I don’t know what spell she’s cast, but I’m jealous.”
Arthur disagreed. Susan was handsome, but her spells ended up being more like curses. And he didn’t think Henriette was plain in any way. The petite blonde with her violet eyes and a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks wasn’t the typical beauty. But Arthur saw something very enticing about her.
Before he knew what he was doing, and despite his own protests that he wasn’t interested, Arthur found himself walking around the edge of the dancefloor towards Henriette as she walked off the dance floor.
Chapter 4
Standing Against
the Tormenters
“May I have this dance?”
Henriette turned round. Arthur stood before her, holding our his hand. It was clear he wanted her to dance. Henriette knew she should refuse, she was exhausted and needed a sit-down, but she was too polite to say no. Even if the man asking her to dance had been awful to her, she wouldn’t be able to turn him down without looking diffident.
She simply fought back her tiredness and smiled, slipping her hand into his.
“Of course, Mr. Myrtle.”
“Call me Arthur.”
But Henriette shook her head as he led her onto the dancefloor.
“I’m sorry, I’m not usually familiar with people I don’t know well.”
Arthur’s mouth twitched. Was that an amused smile he was trying to hide?
“Well, maybe we can get to know each other more.”
Henriette doubted that. Arthur Myrtle was not a nice person in her estimation. If there was a distinguished person underneath he didn’t show it much, if at all. He did have a charm about him, and some of the younger women had spoken to him. One of Henriette’s friends had nearly swooned after talking to Arthur, but Henriette refused to acquiesce.
He did look admirable in his midnight blue coat and trousers, his gold waistcoat pressing his shirt into place. There was no denying he was a good-looking man, but Henriette couldn’t admit that openly. Not with the attitude he carried.
The music started again, this time a waltz. Arthur guided Henriette round the dancefloor. He was a good dancer and moved smoothly. Henriette let him lead and found him easy to follow. He wasn’t aggressive in the least, unlike his behavior off the dancefloor. It was a strange contrast and Henriette suddenly wished the dancer in him showed himself more often.
“You’re such a graceful dancer,” Arthur commented as they twirled around the floor.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sure you have all the men at your feet with your dancing.”
Henriette focused on the buttons on his shirt, refusing to look up at him. Why was he suddenly being so kind? He was complimenting her and trying to be pleasant. There had to be a catch somewhere. It didn’t sound genuine to her ears; it actually seemed like he was pretending to ingratiate himself into her good graces so she would lower her guard.
Henriette wasn’t about to play that game and stayed silent even as he poured on the compliments. The more he did, the less she believed him.
It felt like a huge relief when the dance finished. Henriette’s feet were bothering her, and she was ready to sit down and close her eyes for a moment. It had been a long but fun evening. She didn’t want to stop, but she did need to rest.
She stepped back and gave Arthur a slight curtsy.
“Thank you for the dance, Mr. Myrtle. If you’ll excuse me?”
“May I have the next dance?”
Henriette blinked. He wanted another dance with her? Henriette wondered if he was ill. Earlier in the week, he was unkind and uncouth, not caring what anyone thought of him. Henriette had been one of the people he had focused his attentions on. Now he was trying to be pleasing and wanted to pay proper attention to her.
She shook her head.
“I’m sorry, not this time. If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit and relax. I’ve been dancing pretty much since I got her and I’m exhausted.”
That sounded like a valid reason. Not everyone had danced every dance, and nobody questioned when someone sat out because they were worn out. Henriette thought it would be the same here.
She turned to leave when Arthur gripped her wrist.
“Actually, I do mind, and I’m disappointed.” He turned her back to him. His jaw was tight, all signs of pleasantry gone. “Why don’t you consent to dance with me?”
The switch was so sudden that Henriette felt a
momentary shiver of fear. She didn’t like antagonists, and he was exhibiting the signs. She swallowed and stood her ground.
“I told you; I’m tired.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Henriette didn’t like where this was going. People were beginning to stare at them now. Flushing, she glared at him.
“Believe what you want, but you’re embarrassing us, and I will not have this conversation in the middle of the room.”
Pulling her arm away, releasing his grip, Henriette turned and walked off the dance floor, keeping her head high. She vowed to herself not to show emotion. What she really wanted to do was put Arthur Myrtle in his place for acting like a boorish tyrant, but she didn’t want to cause a scene. She walked past people who had been watching her curiously before turning back to their conversations. The buzz of conversation went up again as the next dance ensued.
Arthur caught up with her as she reached a pillar near the open balcony windows. He grabbed her arm and spun her round.
“What’s wrong with me, Miss Smith?” He demanded. “You’ve given other men several dances but not me.”
“What precisely are your intentions?”
“Am I not good enough for you?”
Henriette blinked. Where was all of this coming from? She was confused. What was he trying to prove? Whatever it was Henriette didn’t like it.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Myrtle.”
She tried to pull her arm away, but Arthur didn’t let go.
“Are you promised elsewhere?”
Henriette had a feeling the mind games and his intentions, whatever they were, were going to make her head go into a spin, and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with it. She just wanted to get away from him and hide. She sighed and knocked his arm away with a sharp rap of her fist on his forearm, a trick her father had taught her.
“Yes, I am, actually.”
“I thought so.”
Arthur’s eyes glinted. He looked almost smug. Henriette snorted.
“You can honestly believe that. If you think I’m promised elsewhere then yes, I am. But I’m sticking with the reason I’m not dancing with you is because I’m tired.”
“Oh, come on, Henriette.”
Susan appeared out of nowhere and leaned against the pillar with a smirk. Henriette found herself having to take a step back so that both siblings were in her line of sight. Susan arched an eyebrow at her.
“You love dancing too much to be tired.” She drawled. “There must be something wrong with my brother’s dancing if you’re walking away from him.”
They were trying to create a scene. Henriette had no idea why they would do that except for some sort of morbid fascination. It seemed incredibly childish.
They were effectively boxing her in. Henriette wasn’t about to let this progress any further. She planted her hands on her hips and glared first at Arthur and then at Susan.
“What’s got into you two? I told you the truth, and I don’t have to repeat myself. If you’re content on forcing me into an answer that isn’t true for your own amusement, then you go right ahead. I refuse to indulge in your games.”
Arthur grunted and glanced at his sister with a slight smirk.
“There must be something wrong with me, Susan. The quiet demeanor is slipping again.”
Susan laughed. Henriette gritted her teeth. She hated the sound of that laugh. It grated on her nerves. She held up her hands and addressed Arthur.
“To tell the truth, if you hadn’t been so rude, I might’ve said yes to another dance despite my sore feet because I’m not a malicious person. But if you’re going to force me then I’m most definitely disinterested.”
Henriette spun on her heel and walked away. If she had remained there any longer, there would have been a confrontation. While she kept up appearances for her parents’ sakes, Henriette wasn’t below screaming and physically defending herself.
Chapter 5
The Accident
After that disastrous encounter with the dishonorable Myrtle siblings, Henriette told herself not to be in their presence again. She refused to be subjected to their mind games. Susan might find some amusement in it now her brother was there to back her up, but Henriette thought it was pointless and childish.
She wasn’t going to indulge them.
To Henriette’s dismay, her mother commented the next morning that they should invite the Myrtles to another picnic in the next week. Henriette told both her parents that instant she would not be attending if the brother and sister pair were planning to attend. She explained her reasons proclaiming she wasn’t about to be saddled with Susan and Arthur when they were rude to her. Her mother was sad Henriette couldn’t make friends with Susan, but she understood.
Her father agreed and suggested they kept their distance since they were also beginning to get concerned about John Myrtle’s behavior. He had turned up to the ball the night before drunk and his wife didn’t seem to care, even accusing others in attendance for her husband’s drunkenness.
They all decided that they would curtail contact until a particular time in the future. That was Mary’s suggestion, and Henriette wondered if she still wanted a relationship with a wealthy family. She didn’t care what her mother wanted to do; she just didn’t want to see Arthur and Susan again.
The next two weeks passed pleasantly enough. Henriette kept herself busy, enjoying the gardening as well as long walks around the village and into the surrounding countryside. She loved to walk and often went out on her own to explore the woods or simply sit on the top of a hill to watch the sun lower in the sky. Her mother despaired that she went out alone, but Robert reminded her that it wasn’t any different to what they did when they were younger. Henriette had quickly excused herself from that conversation.
There had been some rain the night before, so the ground was a little damp. Henriette’s feet sank into the track, which made it feel like she was walking on a sponge. Henriette didn’t pay it any heed, sticking to the solid parts of the track, jumping over logs and making her way into the trees.
As she reached the stream, she heard a horse whinnying. It sounded like it was in distress. She stopped and squinted through the trees.
“Hello?” She called. “Anyone there?”
Her voice seemed to echo around the trees. Then, on the edge of hearing, Henriette heard someone moaning underneath the sound of thundering hooves.
Something was wrong. Henriette could feel it. Something had happened, and she feared it wasn’t good. It never was if a mishap with a horse was involved.
Picking up speed, she hurried along the bank and came to where the trail turned up a sharp slope, away from the stream. There was a sudden drop at the edge that was deceptive if you weren’t paying attention.
Sprawled by the stream, writhing and moaning in pain, was Arthur. His clothes were matted with leaves, twigs, and mud. His face was white, and his teeth were gritted in pain.
Panic gripping her, Henriette hurried towards him.
“Mr. Myrtle!”
She crouched beside him, not wanting to touch him. Then she saw the unmistakable shape of his collar bone sticking out of place. It hadn’t broken the skin, but it was evident it wasn’t where it was supposed to be.
“Fool horse reared up on me.” Arthur flinched as he tried to sit up. “I lost my grip.”
“You shouldn’t move.” Henriette didn’t touch him, not wanting to hurt him more. “You’re badly hurt.”
“Leave me be.”
“Really?” Henriette raised her eyebrows, looking pointedly at his collar bone. “Is your collar bone supposed to be sticking out at that angle?”
Arthur glanced down and flinched. His face was going even whiter.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Henriette stood and held up a hand, barely missing Arthur’s face as he tried to stand away. Then she adopted the voice her mother put on whenever she wanted to get people to obey her without
any arguments. “Stay.”
Arthur blinked, staring up at her. Apparently, he hadn’t been expecting her to object.
“Pardon?”
“I said stay. I’ll get your horse.”
“But he won’t stop for anyone but me.” Arthur protested.
But Henriette was already climbing up the slope. She ignored him shouting at her and jumped onto the path. The horse, a magnificent white beast, was trotting back down the road, snorting. Henriette may not have been keen on horses galloping around when she was out walking, but she liked them when she was riding or interacting with them. She had a natural affinity when it came to horses.
She held out a hand, and the horse came straight to her. Henriette stroked his nose and calmed him enough that he stopped shifting about. It nuzzled her hand before nudging her head. She looked down at Arthur, who was staring at her in amazement, his eyes wide as he gaped at her. She grinned.
“You were saying?”
Arthur found himself staring at Henriette as she walked his horse along the path, his steed walking sedately beside her with no agitation. She seemed to have cast a spell over it; she just crooked her finger, and the horse followed her.
If Arthur’s shoulder wasn’t emitting excruciating pain, he might have admired her for that. But he was in agony and wasn’t in the frame of mind to admire anything, much less the woman who he had been abysmal to in recent weeks.
The pain was beginning to overcome him, and Arthur was struggling to stay conscious. There wasn’t anything he could do except grit his teeth and endure it.
Henriette wasn’t saying anything. She was, effectively, ignoring him, and Arthur couldn’t blame her. He had been disrespectful to her, and he was feeling guilty for his behavior. Whenever Susan was near it brought out the worst in him. His sister had a hold over him that he didn’t like. It was pathetic, but Arthur felt as though he needed his younger sister’s approval so, in turn, he could get his parent’s approval. Susan was rude, abrasive and liked to act like a spoiled child and their father fawned over her. To him, his precious daughter could do no wrong.
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