Henrietta felt the spring sun soak into her skin, infusing each layer with warmth and health as it drove out all the cold and dampness of winter. She sat upon the bench with her face turned up to the sun, thinking that when she felt the sun reach her bones and flood them with warmth she would begin to mend from all the misfortune that had befallen her these last weeks. Healing would not be quick but even to feel that it had begun would be more of a relief than she could say.
Spring spread all around, trees in new leaf, grass so green it appeared to glow from within as though it contained its own fire. Flowers pushed up through the crust of the earth and each day grew an inch until they opened their comely blossoms to bumbling, droning bees. The scent of the weeping willow, a few feet distant, was like a faint perfume of distant China, from which place the tree had once been carried as the tiniest sprout. The earthy aroma of spring welled up from the ground all around, laden with the fragrance of decay and renewal.
When the warmth reaches my bones, Henrietta thought, then I shall join in this renewal and become whole again. Even my torn heart shall be knit back together.
‘There you are, my dear. I have searched everywhere. Certainly I should have known you would be by the pond. But your face is all pink! Should we not move into the shade?’
Henrietta opened her eyes to find her cousin Lizzie standing over her, a look of concern upon her face.
‘I am happy in the sun. I feel the warmth of it seeping into my flesh and mending me in some way I cannot explain.’
Lizzie took a seat beside her on the bench. ‘You are not a plant, you know.’
‘I believe there is a little plant in all of us but most are unaware of it.’
‘It is a strange belief.’ Lizzie glanced at her cousin. ‘But if it makes you happy to believe it, then you may.’
‘Mmm.’ Henrietta closed her eyes and attempted to return to basking. The sun had come so near to her bones and now Lizzie, whom she was always pleased to see, had come to interrupt, if not the process, at least Henrietta’s awareness of it. And the awareness seemed to her to be as important, if not more so, than the outcome.
‘I was speaking with Frank Beacher earlier,’ Lizzie said after a moment. Henri could tell by the studied casualness of the statement that Lizzie was reticent to bring it up.
‘I observed the two of you walking.’ Though did not join you was left unsaid but far more significant.
‘He did say that if there was anything he might do for you, dear Henri, you had but to ask. And also that you may rest assured, given the series of circumstances that have occurred since he spoke, you need not feel the least obliged to answer until you are much recovered. He said this most emphatically.’
‘Dear Frank. He is so obliging – and genuinely so. He has been that way since the age of six – and perhaps before.’
‘He is a very kind young man.’
Henrietta closed her eyes and tried to feel the progress of the sun into her being but she had lost the way of it. ‘I would be safe with Frank, would I not?’
‘It depends, my dear, on what you mean by “safe”.’
‘I mean my heart. As safe as could be. Frank is not about to become adventurous. I should not have constant nightmares of him drowning or dying in some terrible eruption of violence. I have known Frank Beacher all my life and I trust him utterly.’
Perhaps Elizabeth felt she must have something to say on this matter, for after a moment she offered, ‘I believe one might safely say that about Frank Beacher. He is virtuous and trustworthy … to a fault.’
‘I do not think that either of those characteristics could be called “faults”, Lizzie.’
‘No, certainly they are not. And his profession will never put him in harm’s way. I also understand that he stands to inherit a sizeable estate?’
‘Not so large as Box Hill but adequate.’
‘And you will have Aunt Hertle’s house in Plymouth and some other moneys she will bequeath you. You shall never lack comfort.’
‘I feel there is a good deal to be said for comfort – a homely house, children, if I am so blessed, an income that can be relied upon, and a husband who comes through the door each evening and tells me of his day’s activities over a proper dinner.’
‘It does sound … certain,’ Lizzie whispered.
Henrietta opened her eyes just long enough to find her cousin’s hand and squeeze it within her own.
‘No more Navy men for me, Lizzie.’
Elizabeth swallowed with difficulty. ‘I understand,’ she said softly. ‘Life is uncertain enough.’
‘I do not approve of gambling at cards – gambling in the truly important things is …’ She glanced at Lizzie, realizing what she was about to say might appear a judgement. ‘I will marry Frank Beacher and he will love me until the end of his days. I am quite certain of it.’
‘So which have you chosen, my dear Henri? Knowledge or contentment?’
‘Was that my decision? Or some other’s?’ She looked over at her cousin, appealing. ‘What do you think I have chosen, Lizzie?’
Elizabeth shook her head, and for a moment said nothing. ‘I did not understand,’ she began, a little edge of sorrow in her voice, ‘when first I married, that I would send my very heart to war … and far oftener than I would choose.’ She took a long breath but there were no tears. ‘I now possess the deepest knowledge of what a hollow creature I should be without it. You have made an intelligent choice, my dear. I … I would expect nothing less.’
‘Do you think me a coward?’
Lizzie looked over at her and smiled bitterly. ‘Because you do not wish to risk your heart? It is a most sensible decision.’ Tears welled up in her eyes. With difficulty she whispered, ‘I just do not know if it is truly possible.’