Still, it wouldnʼt go away, this unhealthy mixture of hysterical butterflies dancing in his stomach and the uneasy feeling that all of his wishful thinking wasnʼt leading anywhere.
The thudding of hooves and babbling of many voices coming from outside momentarily distracted him.
He slowly walked over to the window. Hidden behind the curtain, he secretly looked outside just to see a coach standing in the yard, right in front of the main entrance of the house. The coach was not drawn by two but six gallant black horses. Henry thought that the person who had just arrived definitely knew how to make an appearance. He spotted Lord and Lady Partridge as well as the butler and the kitchen staff, all neatly lined up to greet the visitor. Just Sarah and the chambermaid were nowhere to be seen.
Then he saw the man whom all the fuss was about and who now—elegantly and with a strikingly upright posture—climbed out of the coach and strode over to the little congregation that was awaiting him.
It was Damian Cox. He had blonde, cropped hair, a slim and wiry stature, and a face with rough edges. He wore a topper and a cloak, and underneath it a black suit. He looked just like a noble man and not like a soldier at all.
Henry had hoped Damian Cox would come a little bit later. That would have given him an hour or two to try and secretly meet Sarah somewhere before she would leave for Bournemouth. Maybe he would have had a chance to talk to her and find out if she remembered that she had kissed him last night. He would have been able to check if she still felt positive about him, or if her mood had already swung into the other direction again; towards ignorance or hatred even. He was desperate to know his standing.
But it seemed to Henry that Damian Cox—without even knowing that Henry existed—had timed his arrival so early that Henry didnʼt have any advantage. Henry guessed that Damian had travelled all night, just to surprise Sarah for breakfast. Judging by her recent outbursts on merely mentioning Coxʼs name, Henry was sure that this surprise would definitely cause a sensation—although not a positive one.
Damianʼs laughter filled the air. It was, as Henry noticed immediately, the laughter of an overly self-confident man who was sure the world was his. Henry saw Lord Partridge patting Damianʼs shoulder in a fatherly manner, then he led him into the house past the row of servants whose facial expression ranged from awestricken to slightly bored.
But Damian ignored them all. Instead, he directed his full attention and charms at Lady Partridge. Judging by his admiring looks, his gestures, and the fact that Lady Partridge smiled, blushed, and giggled like a girl, Henry took it that Damian made some flattering comments about her dress and her appearance in general.
Yes, go on, Henry thought, you two would make an ideal match. Leave Sarah alone and amuse yourself with the lady of the house. She needs your attention because her husband finds his joy somewhere else.
Henry almost felt sorry for Lady Partridge. Last night when he had quietly sneaked back up to his room again, he had noticed that the person wandering through the house and making the doors creak had indeed been Lord Partridge again, in search of his nightly adventures. Having been so busy chasing after Emily, he luckily had neither detected Henry nor Sarah and hence wasnʼt aware of their secret encounter. And nobody seemed to miss the bottle of wine which Henry had snatched from the kitchen.
When Damian and the Partridges had disappeared into the house, Henry quickly shaved, got dressed, and practiced a happy and charming face in front of the mirror. But as hard as he tried, it simply didnʼt look convincing enough. Then he recalled the sweet sensation of Sarahʼs lips on his cheek, and—fueled by this memory—made his way out of his room towards facing the enemy.
* * *
Henry had never truly believed in the saying that upon meeting someone new, the very first seconds sufficed to decide if one found the other person nice or not. He had always thought that it was only fair to give the other one a day or two to reveal their true nature instead of drawing rushed conclusions merely based on a short and meaningless encounter.
When meeting Damian Cox, Henry knew that he had been entirely wrong in this regard. He learned that there were in fact people who had deserved it to be despised right from the start, because they didnʼt care in the least about coming across as lovable and, quite to the contrary, even risked to be hated because it seemed to thrill them.
Henry found that it werenʼt Damianʼs looks which made him so disagreeable; the young soldier was in fact handsome up to some degree. No, it rather were his greasy charms, for they were fake charms, filled with egocentric intentions and headed only towards the people whom he wanted something from. And it was his unbearable superiority which suggested that everyone else was merely an extra on his personal stage.
The ones who were off worst in Damianʼs presence were the servants. As Henry was walking down the stairs, he saw the butler taking Damianʼs coat, but Damian only made a dismissive arrogant gesture without uttering a single word of gratitude, without casting Roderick a glance which might have demonstrated that Damian noticed that the butler was there at all. Instead, Damian treated Roderick as if the latter was a mere object that fulfilled its purpose and was otherwise to be ignored. Henry noticed that not even Lord Partridge treated his staff that way.
The little group marched into the parlor. Henry followed the noise of Damianʼs laughter and his waffling about the journey that lay behind him.
“These endless rows of potholes all along the way from Oxford to here!” he exclaimed, sounding both unnerved and amused. “What a nuisance! I really wonder why this isolated spot appeals so much to you, Horatio, with nothing but country bumpkins around, incapable of building proper roads! I would recommend you to get yourself a domicile in Oxford town. They have truly wonderful premises there. I will gladly pull some strings and try and find something decent for you. They know my father very well there, of course, and I can surely convince them to make a good price for you. Anyway, next time I might already be coming with my new automobile. These vehicles are still a rarity, but I managed to order one of the very first specimen which are being produced right now. I hope that I will get it before the general mob can lay hands on them.”
Damianʼs laughter echoed within the parlor walls.
Henry entered the room on silent feet. He felt uneasy because of disturbing the little congregation of happy people. Still, he was too curious to stay away from it all and furthermore felt that the others expected him to be present as well—at least during the introductory part.
They were all standing round the table where Emily had arranged some glasses of champagne. When Henry entered, Lord Partridgeʼs glance fell on him.
“Damian, by the way, let me introduce you to Mr. Henry Abbott,” he said rather merrily. Damianʼs appearance obviously had lifted his spirits.
Damian swiveled around to face Henry and gave him a brilliant smile. Henry immediately noticed, though, that his smile didnʼt match the expression of his eyes, which were cold and scrutinizing.
“What a pleasure to meet you, Henry!” Damian warbled, calling Henry by his first name without asking for permission. “I am Damian Cox. You probably have heard of me.”
Damian lazily extended his left hand towards Henry. The other remained nonchalantly stuck in his trouser pocket.
“I have indeed,” Henry answered flatly.
Henry felt Damianʼs eyes measuring him secretly. He sensed that hidden behind the wide grin, displaying a set of excellent teeth, Damianʼs mind was working as he was obviously trying to figure out what to make of Henry.
“So you have taken the part of the new ʻgovernessʼ for the child, isnʼt that right?” Damian chuckled mockingly.
“My dear Damian,” Lord Partridge said and actually laughed, which was a rare sight, “it was not that long ago that you saw Sarah last. You should know that she is not a child anymore. It will be her nineteenth birthday in two weeks time.”
“I am aware of that,” Damian replied, taking a sip of the champagne. “But mind you, she som
etimes acts like a child.”
“Thatʼs why Mr. Abbott is here. He will make her a lady, a grown-up woman. Isnʼt that true, Mr. Abbott?” Lady Partridge threw in, smiling endearingly—at Damian; not at Henry although it was him she had spoken to.
“Oh, will he?” Damian broke out in laughter as if the outcome was entirely doubtful once Henry was in charge of Sarah. “Well then, let us see how long he will last—judging by all his predecessors who threw in the towel after only a few hours.”
“I arrived a couple of days ago, and as you can see I am still here,” Henry answered smugly.
“And she hasnʼt hurled her pencils and books at you yet?”
Damian laughed out loud again and looked around the room to see if the others found his comment just as funny as he did.
Henry immediately became aware of the game Damian was playing. He was marking his areal, because he was afraid. And there was enough reason to be afraid: Instead of an old, wrinkled governess, there unexpectedly was another man in the house who would get to spend more time with his bride-to-be than he did. And that man was about the same age as he himself and not ugly either. Henry was far from being narcissistic, but he knew very well that he too had certain looks which women generally felt attracted to.
“Miss Sarah is an obedient and lovable person at heart,” he said firmly.
Damian Cox was now laughing so much that tears began to well up in his eyes.
“…But she hardly ever seems to get a chance to show it,” Henry added.
Lord and Lady Partridge exchanged baffled glances.
“What do you mean by that?” Lord Partridge asked indignantly.
Henry realized quickly that he had gone a little bit too far in his attempt to defend Sarah in a surrounding where not even her alleged lover seemed to take her side.
“What I mean to say is…” Henry hesitated as all eyes were expectantly resting on him, “well, that everyone so naturally regards her as evil that it is easy to overlook the moments when she is not and when she even makes an effort to reach out.”
Damian stopped laughing.
“You have got a good sense of humor, Mr. Ashton, you truly have...” he said with a sarcastic voice.
“Abbott,” Henry gave back calmly, “my name is Abbott.”
“Abbott, whatever...” Damian mumbled, sounding disinterested. He sipped at his champagne and pointedly turned his back on Henry.
Then, suddenly, the door to the parlor opened and Sarah entered.
Upon seeing her, Henry could not help but immediately feel overwhelmed with the memories of the previous night, remembering how she had kissed him, how her perfume had confused his mind, how sweetly she had whispered into his ear that she was sorry.
Just that what he saw now wasnʼt the charming and vulnerable Sarah that seemed to have slightly opened her heart to him, and it wasnʼt the wild and cheeky one either. Instead, Henry saw a girl who appeared downright scared, with sadness and recoil written all over her face.
“Sarah, my beloved, you look tremendously beautiful today!” Damian rushed over to her with long and purposeful strides. He stopped right in front of her, took her hand, which he hungrily raised to his mouth, then he placed his lips on her skin, a devouring look in his eyes.
Henry became aware of a feeling of nausea spreading in his stomach when he saw how Sarah was withering into nothingness in Damianʼs presence. What gave him utter satisfaction, however, was the fact that Damianʼs direct approach didnʼt make her blush. Henry tried to recall how many times she had already blushed when he had looked at her or spoken to her. So far he had merely found it amusing, sometimes even annoying, especially when it had been accompanied by her incessant silences. But now it gradually dawned on him that he had to attach much more importance to it as her blushing seemed to be a sure sign of some kind of affection. Otherwise she would probably have turned as white as a bedsheet, just a she did now when Damian simply wouldnʼt let go of her hand and drew the girl ever closer to him, irrespective of the little group of curious spectators around him.
Although Henry was desperate to leave as he couldnʼt bear the sight of Damian wooing Sarah, he still felt the urge to stay and watch over the girl, wanted to be near her, just in case; even though he didnʼt quite see a chance to interfere. But he hoped that his presence would give Sarah some sort of comfort and support.
Suddenly, he felt Lady Partridgeʼs hand on his arm.
“Well then,” she twittered merrily, “let us do have breakfast now. After all, we want to have an early start and do not want to miss the train.”
It was a clear sign that the part of Henryʼs introduction was over and that from now on the Partridges and Damian wished to be by themselves.
And without directing another word at Henry, Lady Partridge gently but determinedly shoved him out of the room and closed the door behind him.
* * *
Later, when the Partridgesʼ departure was drawing near, Henry could hardly trust his eyes when he saw what an enormous number of personal belongings the travellers intended to take with them. There were innumerable suitcases and boxes with dresses, suits, hats, and shoes for all possible occasions; for lunch, for dinner, for entertainment, for going dancing, for strolling along the promenade, for taking walks at the beach, for having a bath in the sea, and for traveling itself which, of course, required an extra outfit.
Roderick and Emily were the unfortunate ones to carry the luggage to the coach. Henry saw them breathlessly running up and down the stairs at least ten times. And Lady Partridge let out a shriek when Angus, the coach driver, didnʼt really show the appropriate care upon stowing the luggage in the coach. He simply grabbed whatever piece he could get hold of and threw it inside, not truly caring if a somewhat heavier suitcase landed on top of a fragile box with a hat in it.
The Partridgesʼ coach was reserved for the lord and the lady, and for Sarah and Damian. The second coach, Damianʼs coach, would carry Dr. Scott, Henry, Roderick and Emily. The luggage would be stored between their feet and on top of the coach, tied to the roof. Both coaches would go as far as the train station in Oxford, drop the little party off, and then return to the mansion. Henry and Dr. Scottʼs train would leave half an hour later than the train of the Partridges, which headed into another direction.
The fact that the butler and the chambermaid were allowed to join the Partridges whenever they went away, was a dubious pleasure for them. Instead of entertainment, it rather meant that they had to do the same work as back home: making wake-up calls, helping the lordship get dressed, serving food, waiting until the lordship had finished eating, carrying the luggage, staying up until late at night just in case the lordship had any requests. And by no means would they stay in the same exquisite lodgings as the Partridges, but in special separated areas reserved for the servants of all noble vacationers. Of course, these accommodations were far less comfortable, with the windows most often not offering a beautiful seaside view but a view at a smelly backyard or a brick stone wall.
“What a sight. One might believe that they are moving house...” Dr. Scott chuckled quietly as he was standing next to Henry in the door, watching in amusement the incredible hustle and bustle which was going on. Just like Henry, he himself had only brought a small bag.
A limp smile crossed Henryʼs face at the doctorʼs funny remark, before his attention was drawn to Sarah who, in this moment, was led down the stairs by a triumphantly grinning Damian. Henry watched the girl as she carefully lifted her skirt, entered the coach and took a seat inside it. Damian climbed in shortly afterwards and sat down next to her, happily patting her hand. When Henry saw him leaning over to her and conspiratorially whispering something in her ear, he couldnʼt get rid of the impression that Damian did all of this on purpose, just to tease Henry. But Sarah didnʼt show any reaction whatsoever.
Henry assumed that Damian had to be blind if he didnʼt see the girlʼs aversion towards him. But then again, he guessed that Damian in fact knew it but was so full of hims
elf that he didnʼt care if a woman liked him or not. He was convinced that he was great. And everyone else who didnʼt know it was simply stupid. And he obviously didnʼt care if people were stupid as long as they were as beautiful as Sarah.
Next, Lord and Lady Partridge stepped out of the house, their faces hit by the brilliant sunlight of a deceivingly wonderful pre-summerʼs day.
“Splendid, truly splendid,” Lord Partridge said matter-of-factly. Even in moments of utter delight, he managed to keep his cool. He pulled his black topper down over his forehead, which gave him the air of a magician. And somehow he was just that, as Henry thought, judging by the fact that the noble man so magically organized his life in a way which suited him best, with everybody around him bowing to his will.
Lady Partridgeʼs head was crowned by an incredibly broad lilac hat with enormous feathers which brushed and tickled Henryʼs face as she was walking past him. Henry wondered how the massive headgear would fit in the coach which was bursting with baggage and people already.
Henry & Sarah Page 9
