Henry & Sarah

Henry & Sarah - By Suzanne Kadrak


Chapter 1 – The Arrival



England - July, 1886

Partridge Mansion could already be seen from afar.

Nestled in the beautiful countryside, it was surrounded solely by green meadows and vast farmland. The nearest village was miles away, and one could have easily succumbed to the impression that the people who lived here had to feel lonely and isolated amidst this solitude.

But this wasn’t the case. In fact, the mansion’s residents rather enjoyed the reclusiveness. Here they were able to keep everything to themselves and to create a convenient distance between them and the rest of the world.

It was an old house that showed clear signs of decay. Its slightly ramshackle facade had begun to crumble in some places, and the roof threatened to lose some tiles—the result of more than a hundred years of bravely withstanding the ghastly winds and the humidity of the relentless English climate.

Still, it was unquestionably a pretty house, and its obvious struggle with age did not affect the magnificence and pride, the splendor and subtle haughtiness it radiated. Yes, the overall impression was that of a well looked after home whose inhabitants laid great importance on preserving the place for many generations to come.

Henry Abbott peered through the bars of the wrought iron entrance gate that led into the estate. He hesitated for a moment, then he opened the gate. It was a little jammed and creaked terribly. Henry could hardly believe that well-off people like the Partridges would not care about such things. But he assumed that it was probably not in their interest at all to fix the gate, because, in reality, they didn’t want to make it too easy for visitors to get inside. The high brick wall surrounding the whole of the lavish estate only added to the unpleasant feeling of being an intruder.

Not that Henry wasn’t welcome. After all, he had been personally invited by Lord Horatio Partridge—an extremely rare honour for those who didn’t belong to the upper class. Henry knew very well that this was a real privilege and also a unique opportunity that would never come back again. Not anyone of his friends or acquaintances had ever been allowed to get this close to one of the most reputable and famous families in the region.

He followed a gravel pathway that led across the garden and straight to the portal of the house. The garden was the size of a park whose dimensions were not determinable at a glance. There were many trees; birches, larches, and cherry trees in full blossom. But there were also very old oak trees which had witnessed the day when the first foundation stone had been laid on the very ground Henry was standing now.

The pathway was lined with flowerbeds. Pansies and lavender, crysanthemum and blue bells had all been neatly arranged in exact rows like little soldiers standing at attention. Not a single plain dandelion would have dared to poke its head out between them.

At the far end of the garden, Henry spotted a stable big enough to house a dozen of horses. He had never seen such a big garden. At home they didn’t even have one, only a small backyard where scruffy looking alley cats rummaged through the dustbins in their hopeless search for leftovers.

The closer he came to the building, the more he felt intimidated by the blatant superiority it displayed. The numerous lattice windows seemed to be staring down at him, and behind one of them, half hidden by the curtains, he believed to see someone secretly watching him.

It didn’t surprise him that they were suspicious. After all, he was a stranger, and it was not unusual that gentry like the Partridges harbored a certain mistrust against people they didn’t know—especially when those people were ordinary mortals like him without any particular background. Henry guessed they were worried he would spy on them, tell everyone about their wealth, and—in the worst case—attract thieves who would empty the house on the next occasion.

But Henry wasn’t a spy. All he wanted was to get the position as a tutor.

The pathway ended at a staircase that led up to the main entrance. The door was made of massive oak and looked rather solid.

Now all that is missing is a castle moat... Henry thought and pulled at the cord of a tiny simple bell that was attached above the door. The bell chimed sweetly; a sound so soft that it stood in no relation to the pompousness of the building—something that Henry found ridiculously funny.

When he heard footsteps coming from inside, he quickly checked his suit, hair, fingernails, and breath. He had been trying hard to look his very best today, and it was not his intention to let anything impair his appearance.

Someone opened the door, slowly and carefully. It was an elderly man with a bald head and round spectacles. He was dressed in clothes typical for a butler: a suit jacket, a waistcoat, a white shirt, and a bow tie.

“We do not buy any brushes,” he said curtly.

“My name is Henry Abbott,” Henry quickly replied before the butler could shut the door in his face. “The new tutor.”

The butler’s eyes got wide as the realization struck him that Henry was not a door-to-door salesman.

“Ah, of course,” he said apologetically. “Please, do come in, Mr. Abbott.”

He appeared much friendlier now and his initial reserve subsided. With a galant gesture of his hand he beckoned Henry inside.

The next moment, Henry found himself in a big reception hall where it was dark and chilly as opposed to outside.

“Unfortunately, Lord Partridge is out in town.” the butler added as he closed the door quietly behind Henry. “He has, however, assigned the Lady of the house with the task to receive you on his behalf. I will inform her at once about your arrival. Is there anything I can do for you before I go, Sir? A cup of tea? A biscuit?”

Henry smiled shyly and shook his head.

“No, thank you. I am fine,” he answered.

“As you wish, Mr. Abbott,” the butler said. “Lady Partridge will be with you in an instant.”

The butler took a little bow and walked up the stairs to the upper floor.

Henry took off his hat and nervously clutched it with both hands. Uncertainly, he looked round the place. The floor was entirely tiled with the best marble, as were the stairs. Some precious paintings lined the walls, and there was a little decorative table standing in the corner. Someone had placed a vase with fresh flowers on it; black elder and lilies whose sweet fragrance filled the air and created a touch of homeliness in the otherwise cool reception hall. On silent feet, Henry strode over to the table and slowly let his fingers run over its smooth and polished mahogany surface. He thought that he most definitely would have something to tell the gossip hungry people out there. But he wasn’t the type of person to engage in these kinds of conversations.

Carefully, he pulled at one of the drawers of the table when he suddenly heard footsteps and voices coming from above. Not wanting to be caught in the act of sniffing around, he quickly let go of the drawer and hurried back to the spot where he had been standing before the butler had left him alone.

“This is absolutely unacceptable!” Henry heard a woman say, her sharp voice echoing in the hall.

“Indeed, Lady Partridge. Absolutely unacceptable” he then heard the butler answer.

For a moment, Henry worried that they were talking about him.

“It is beyond my understanding why after all those years Emily still has not learnt how to use a cleaning cloth...,” the woman added angrily, and Henry noticed to his relief that she obviously meant somebody else and that he was not the reason of her wrath.

“It is a disgrace, Lady Partridge,” Henry heard the butler mutter.

Then, suddenly, the woman appeared at the top of the staircase. It was Lady Partridge.

She was tall; almost taller than the butler. Only once in his entire life had Henry seen a woman that tall: his aunt Mable whom he and his brother used to secretly call ‘flagpole’. He remembered that Aunt Mable had found a morbid delight in pinching him in his check until it hurt, whenever she came to visit his family. But other than that she had been a gentle and caring woman with a heart of gold, and at her deathbed Henry had felt terrible regret for having called her a flagpole.

Unfortunately, apart from the size, Lady Partridge and his Aunt Mable had nothing in common. Henry could barely envisage the lady sacrificing her very last penny to buy her children or nephews candy and then take them to the zoo to watch the chimpanzees like his aunt used to. No, Lady Partridge was as cool as the marble she was treading on, and there was a highly formidable air about her which demanded obedience and respect. She was wearing a beige blouse with playful frills both at the collar and the sleeves, which somehow contradicted the joylessness and graveness she radiated.

Her grim look let her appear much older than she actually was. Henry knew that she had turned forty-five the year before, because he recalled having read in the newspaper that the Partridges had held a big birthday banquet in her honor in a very reputable hotel in London. But back then the news had not really interested him. The Partridges and their life had represented a world completely out of his reach. How should he have known that one day he would be standing in their reception hall, peering inside their drawers.

“And there as well!” Lady Partridge called out, pointing to the ground at some indefinable stains on the marble steps. Her voice sounded almost hysterical. “Roderick, we must by all means tell Emily to give the stairs another wipe. Does this girl not have eyes in her head?!”

“Certainly, Lady Partridge. I will tell her again, Lady Partridge.” Roderick, the butler, replied reassuringly, trying his best to calm the lady down.

Lady Partridge was holding on to the banister with one hand, and with the other she was clutching her skirt, careful not to trip over her long dress. Then she ever so gracefully walked down the stairs.

She didn’t take any notice of Henry, and somehow he couldn't shake off the feeling that she was ignoring him deliberately, just to let him wait.

When she finally arrived downstairs, she walked over to him wordlessly, without greeting him, and without asking him if he had had a safe journey—the least he had expected after having come all the way from London. Instead, she just pierced him with her dark, cold eyes and cast him a thin and sourly smile which seemed rather forced.

Her frightless stare unsettled Henry. For a moment, he just looked at her perplexed, then he quickly gathered himself again, remembering what he was here for. He didn’t want to make a bad first impression, and so he tried to remain friendly despite the unwelcoming atmosphere. After all, he really wanted the position, and he was hoping that his desperation wasn’t too obvious.

He made a respectful bow and began to speak:

“Honorable Lady Partridge, my name is—”

“I know who you are,” Lady Partridge cut him off.

“You are Henry Abbott,” she went on, sounding slightly bored. “and you have the courage bordering on lunacy to apply for the position as a tutor to our daughter Sarah, who is regionally known for her her awful moods and frantic outbursts of rage—not to mention her habit of climbing on trees and generally acting like a boy. Only God knows why... ”

The sarcasm in her voice hadnʼt failed to catch Henry’s attention. Of course he knew them, the stories that were circulating about the Partridges and their infamous daughter. It was an open secret that they were having major issues with the girl, although they were trying hard to hide it from the public. But since they were looking for a new tutor for her by placing advertisements in the papers, word had spread like wildfire.

“I would like to talk to you openly, Mr. Abbott.” Lady Partridge said, while circling him slowly and eyeing him up and down as if he was cattle on the market. “As you are surely aware of, we are very well known in the area. We have a reputation to lose, not least due to the fact that my husband is the owner of Partridge Ploughs. The task awaiting you is of utter importance. And just for your information: My husband and I did not choose you because you stood out from other applicants. The only reason that you are here is that, unfortunately, nobody else but you has shown any serious interest in the position. Therefore, we came to the decision that we might as well take the risk and give you the opportunity to prove yourself. So, apart from teaching our daughter the basics, the only thing we care about is that the girl finally comes to her senses. She is in desperate need of some social graces.”

“I will do my utmost to meet your expectations,” Henry replied firmly.

“Thatʼs what all the others before you said as well...” Lady Partridge scoffed. “I can hardly recall how many times I have walked down these stairs in order to receive some hopeless optimist as you are, overconfident men and women who applied for the position as a tutor or governess to Sarah and who all left in the end, either out of their own will or because my husband fired them due to their incompetency—with the result, that I had to look after the girl myself. As if I was not busy enough doing other things... It is like a curse...”

“Well, I am sincerely sorry to hear this...” Henry said and couldn’t help but wonder what other important tasks Lady Partridge could possibly be busy with. From what he knew a day in the life of an honorable lady was filled with nothing but pleasurable idleness and leisurely things such as reading, doing some embroidery, writing invitations, or giving the staff a telling off.

Lady Partridge let out a strange mocking laugh.

“Don’t be foolish,” she said. “You could not care less about us and our problems just like everybody else out there who has not the faintest notion of what it really means to be a Partridge. We are well aware that the mob is talking about us behind our backs, don’t you worry. But it is alright, we have long got used to it.”

Henry didn’t like the way Lady Partridge overaccentuated the word ‘mob’. There was something highly disparaging about it. But as for the talking, he had to admit that she was right and there was nothing he could say to disperse her assumption. There were indeed very vile people out there who were green with envy and would have rather seen the Partridges fail or even dead.

“You seem like a decent young man, though. How old are you?” Lady Partridge suddenly asked and cast Henry an unexpected secretive smile.

Henry didn’t quite know if he should feel flattered or scared by Lady Partridge’s words and her blunt question. On the one hand, he was relieved to see that she had given him the reassurance that she approved of him on a professional level, but on the other hand he had just discovered a strange new tone in her voice which seemed to reveal a personal interest in him. As if she found him attractive.

“Twenty-five, Lady Partridge,” Henry answered dutifully.

“Not married?” Lady Partridge continued her interrogation.

“No, Lady Partridge.”

Lady Partridge raised an eyebrow, leaving room for all sorts of interpretations of this gesture.

Henry felt slightly uneasy. Not that it would have bothered him that a woman who was much older than he was made overtures to him. It had happened to him before and he had not been reluctant, to say the least. He knew that he had the looks and the charms which women generally fell for. Women loved him. And he loved women. Still, there was something about Lady Partridge in particular that made him shy away from her approaches. The reason was that he didn’t like her at all. From the very first moment when he had seen her towering at the top of the staircase he had felt an aversion toward her. And this antipathy threatened to grow with every second she continued staring into his eyes as if she wanted to deprive him of his soul.

She seemed to notice his uncertainty, because all of a sudden her lips formed a cruel little grin, as if she had a major delight in unsettling him with her insinuations and obtrusive glances. Henry guessed she had just wanted to confuse him, although he was not sure how serious she had really been in her advances.

“From your letter of application, I take it that you taught in London. Is that correct?” she then asked matter-of-factly, and Henry was glad that the conversation was taking a different course.

“Indeed,” Henry answered eagerly. “At primary school.”

Lady Partridge nodded quietly but the doubtful look she gave him revealed that despite his obvious experience she suddenly didn`t trust his abilities anymore to fulfil the assigned future tasks. Again, Henry was confused and wondered how someone like him who had taught thirty little children should not be capable of dealing with a single young girl.

“Can I see her? Miss Sarah, I mean?” Henry asked and immediately bit his lip, knowing he should not have been so straightforward. But he could hardly contain himself anymore. He finally wanted to know what he was in for.

“You will see her soon enough,” Lady Partridge answered with a sigh. “You will probably hear her first before you see her. She tends to scream a lot, and she throws things around… So you better be careful... Well, as for now, I suggest that Roderick will show you to your room. My husband will talk to you later once he returns from town.”

“So, does... does this mean I am employed?” Henry asked excitedly.

“Of course, you are.” Lady Partridge looked at him in surprise and laughed. “I told you there wasn’t anyone else.”

Although Lady Partridge’s last comment slightly dulled his enthusiasm and hurt his vanity, Henry could hardly conceal his excitement about the fact that they had chosen him exclusively.

“Thank you, Lady Partridge. Much obliged,” he said and took another bow.

“Well, if I were you, I would not be all too exhilarated about it.” Lady Partridge smiled at him wearily. “Days may come where you wish you were back in primary school again...”

“I am certain I can handle it,” Henry responded determinedly.

“I hope so.” Lady Partridge smirked. Then, with the same cool gracefulness she had shown the moment she had come down to see him, she now turned and purposefully marched back up the stairs without deigning to look at him again.

Relieved that he had got over this first encounter and happy that he was now officially the Partridges’ new private tutor, Henry looked after her until she disappeared on the upper floor.

“May I, Sir?” Roderick’s voice tore him out of his daze.

Henry looked at him puzzled. The butler pointed at the suitcase, which was standing next to Henry on the floor.

“Oh, certainly, thank you,” Henry answered quickly. He was not used to someone else carrying his things for him.

Then, with a quiet nod, Roderick took the suitcase and motioned Henry to follow him.

* * *

Henryʼs room lay on the first floor. It was small and only equipped with the most basic things: a wardrobe, a bed, a stained mirror at the wall, and a small washtub in the corner.

Henry didnʼt mind. He was accustomed to humble accommodation. Having grown up as the son of a coal miner in the working class district of London, he had spent the best part of his life living hand to mouth. Despite having managed to climb the ladder and become a teacher, and despite having earned and saved quite a bit of money, Henry was still a modest man who could easily put up with simplicity. Apart from that, this room still showed more luxuries than the place where he had spent his childhood and where he had had to share the bedroom with his parents and his brother. Back then they had all slept in a single bed.

He felt in desperate need to refresh himself and get some sleep after the long journey by train from London to Oxford, and then from Oxford station to the mansion by coach. The estate was so far away from town that he would be depending on the coach driver, who had brought him here, if he ever wanted to get away; or else, it would take him hours to walk.

But somehow he started to take a liking to the countryside. He had been pleased by what he had seen while the train had been passing vast cornfields and seemingly endless rows of sunflowers on the way to his destination. It was so peaceful and quiet here without the hustle and bustle which he was used to after having spent all of his young life in the city. Apart from that, he was glad that he was finally able to actually see the sky, as back in London the dirty emissions of the ever-growing industries tended to cover the city like a thick black veil.

He strode over to the window and opened it. Warm rays of the late afternoon sun gently fell through the curtains. From here one had a magnificent view out onto the garden, its cherry trees, and the flower beds. The air was filled with the sweet and heavy smell of roses. Henry closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if to inhale this moment deeply into his mind and soul.

Suddenly a horrible scream tore him out of his reflections, a scream that sounded as if an animal was about to be brutally slaughtered. Just that the scream was human.

“Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

The next moment, Henry saw a small portly woman in her forties running across the lawn. She was wearing an apron and a bonnet. Henry wasnʼt sure if he could trust his eyes but soon realized that he wasnʼt erring: Yes, it was definitely dung which covered both head and shoulders of the poor woman, who was now crying at the top of her lungs, “She did it again! She did it again!”

Henry noticed that she spoke with an Irish accent.

A man dressed in a tweed jacket and sporting a massive mustache suddenly appeared on the scene. His stature was small and a little bit sturdy. Judging by the size of his belly, Henry guessed that the man obviously enjoyed a good piece of meat and several pints of beer every now and then.

“What is it, Thelma?”

Purposefully, the man marched over to the woman with the apron, whom he had called Thelma, and flinched at the sight of the excrements on her head.

“Lord Partridge, this is the third time now!” Thelma lamented. “If this doesnʼt stop, I will go and work for someone else!”

“I promise you that it will not happen again.” Henry noticed that the man, who had turned out to be Lord Partridge, appeared strangely calm. It was obvious that the lord wasnʼt a friend of showing too many emotions and that he tried hard to disguise them. But his face which was red as a lobster gave him away and revealed that deep inside he burst with anger.

“Sarah!” he called and looked around in search of the girl.

“She must be sitting somewhere in the trees...” Thelma said and quickly followed Lord Partridge, who was now walking over to a big oak tree. Together they peered up to the treetop.

“Maybe she has already made a run for it,” Thelma reasoned.

“We have employed a new teacher for her. So all of this is soon going to change,” Lord Partridge explained, determinedly.

“Yet another tutor?” Thelma threw a doubtful glance at Lord Partridge, but the latter didnʼt answer and instead turned around and marched back to the house. Thelma angrily muttered something to herself, then she too left the ʻscene of the crimeʼ where she had been so shamelessly attacked with dung and disappeared out of Henryʼs sight.

This is soon going to change… Henry thought glumly and suddenly felt rather overwhelmed by the obvious big hopes that Lord and Lady Partridge placed in his abilities. Judging the amount of dung with which Thelma had been covered, Henry worried that the task that lay ahead of him would prove to be not as simple as he had initially thought.

Trying not to let this incident discourage him, he decided to make himself at home in his room. He was just about to close the window when his glance fell out onto the garden one last time.

And then there she was—Sarah.

To his utter surprise, Henry noticed that she was a truly beautiful girl. Her brown, long curls flowed over her shoulders and cascaded down to her waist like a waterfall. Her fragile body was tucked into a pink dress with white ribbons, which made her appear deceptively innocent.

Lazily, she was strolling past the flower beds, not appearing all too bothered by the commotion which she had just caused. When she noticed that her dress and her hands were dirty, she knelt down on the ground and began to wipe the remains of dung, which her hands were soiled with, off in the grass. When she rose to her feet again, she suddenly looked up to Henryʼs window, just as if she had sensed that he was secretly watching her.

Boldly, she looked him straight in the eyes as if she wanted to stare him down.

Win or lose… Henry thought as he was facing his first challenge. He wasnʼt used to such kind of behavior at all. All well-behaved children he had ever taught had been told to avoid their teacherʼs gaze. But from what he had heard and seen so far, this child wasnʼt well-behaved. And apart from that, Sarah wasnʼt a child at all but a fully developed, beautiful, young woman. As Henry remembered from his previous correspondence with the Partridges, she was eighteen.

He bravely held her gaze in an effort to convey that from now on he would be the one in charge. From his work at school, he was well aware that the very first impression that the student got of the teacher counted more than anything else. He had always been in favor of less authoritative methods of education, but even he knew that if a teacher didnʼt express some kind of authority right away, one was eternally lost and the students would never show a shred of respect.

Sarahʼs mouth turned up to form a smirk which made Henry feel uneasy, because it conveyed a message, too. And this message was, “I am going to show you who really is in charge…”

Henry hoped that he just misinterpreted the looks that the girl threw him, and that Sarah merely meant to be friendly. He wondered if he was only being paranoid because of all the bad things that he had heard about her; for example, that the Partridges had almost called for the priest one day in order to perform some kind of exorcism on her, as she once had had a particularly terrible fit of rage and wouldnʼt calm down. But Henry guessed that there were enough people out there who envied the Partridges for their wealth and their status and who therefore simply wanted to damage the familyʼs reputation by spreading all sorts of dubious gossip. Henry truly couldnʼt believe that this little girl in her pink dress really was in need of an exorcist to bring her back to her senses.

Or was she?

He supposed that he would have to discover the truth for himself.

Suddenly, Sarah turned and walked away. Shortly afterwards, he heard her little fists bang against the main door, heard her stomp into the house and run up the stairs, heard Lady Partridge scold the girl for her inappropriate behavior.

“Your hair is hanging loose again! After all the effort Emily made to pin it up this morning! A lady is not to wear her hair like that! This is completey intolerable!”

Henry decided that it was safer to stay in his room for the time being in order to get some sleep and wait out the storm. He would be introduced to Sarah sooner or later.

He lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out if he was really ready for this challenge, or if he was in fact about to bite off more than he could chew.

Then he fell into a lovely slumber.

* * *

Playing such an important role in the house—teaching the offspring—Henry was allowed to have dinner together with the Partridges in the dining room and didnʼt have to go downstairs where the servants lived and had their meals.

Upon entering the dining room, he saw a chambermaid—a young girl wearing an apron, her blonde hair neatly pinned up and hidden under a bonnet. She was busy laying the table and carefully positioned the plates and cutlery so that everything would be straight. When she noticed Henry, she stopped in the middle of her work and took a slight bow.

“Dinner will be served shortly, Sir.” Her voice was hushed and hardly audible.

Henry nodded quietly and turned to take in the setting. Even without anybody present as yet, he found that the atmosphere in the room was rather intimidating. He dreaded that he would create utter chaos if a single word came out of his mouth and that he would destroy the silence, maybe even cause one of the very expensive-looking porcelain vases to come crashing down to the floor.

He guessed that it would make a bad impression if he sat down at the table before anyone else had arrived, so he simply waited and continued watching the chambermaid, who was now carefully aligning the backs of the chairs. Again and again she circled the table, checking if everything was in order. Henry couldnʼt have cared less if his chair was properly aligned or not as long as he got something to eat soon. After all, he had not eaten anything since he had left London and was by now famished.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. Lord Partridge entered the dining room and, a rather pinched expression on his face, strode over to where Henry stood, his left hand holding a cigar.

“Did you have a nice journey?” he asked. His voice sounded aloof and somewhat absent-minded as it was typical for an overworked businessman who felt that his time was far too precious to deal with trivialities such as the arrival of a new tutor, but who at least lowered himself to utter a few welcoming words in order not to appear as arrogant and impolite.

“It was excellent,” Henry answered. Despite his nervousness, he smiled confidently at Lord Partridge, but the latter had already turned away from him and walked over to the table where he sat down at the head.

Hesitantly, Henry approached the table, wondering where he was supposed to sit and how many people would attend the dinner. He counted eight chairs.

“Would you not like to take a seat, Mr. Abbott?” Lord Partridge finally asked when the situation was becoming rather awkward with Henry helplessly lingering in the room. Ultimately, Henry grabbed the chair next to Lord Partridge and equally sat down.

He hardly dared to touch anything. Everything seemed to be made of the finest material; from the fabric of the chair upholstery to the silver of the cutlery and the porcelain of the plates.

Suddenly, three men entered the room, chatting animatedly with each other. As soon as they saw Lord Partridge sitting at the table, though, their chatting subsided and they made an effort to appear more serious.

The three men had arrived late in the afternoon by coach. And as Henry was soon to find out, two of them were the Partridgesʼ sons, Harold and Adrian, who studied at the university. The third man was Oscar Scott, Lady Partridgeʼs brother, who lived in town. He was a doctor in his mid-thirties and a self-proclaimed bachelor who explained that he was a regular guest at the mansion, not only because he belonged to the family but also because he was desperately trying to cure his sister of her regular fits of headache.

Henry smiled uncertainly when Lord Partridge introduced him to everyone as ʻthe daredevil whose intention it is to tame the little beast,ʼ which caused general laughter amongst the others. To his relief, Henry sensed that they all seemed to like him; especially Dr. Scott who immediately took a particular interest in Henry and asked him so many questions about London that Henry felt slightly interrogated. But it turned out that Dr. Scott had once lived in London himself. The fact that he had found a position as a doctor in Oxford, however, had made him leave the city and start up a new life in the countryside, which he equally loved and loathed. He openly admitted that deep inside he had always preferred the city, therefore he couldnʼt get enough of Henry telling him the latest news and gossip from London.

The little congregation at the table was distracted when they heard muffled voices coming from the corridor. One of them belonged to Lady Partridge.

“Will you go now, for heavenʼs sake? Stop making such a fuss,” Henry heard her mutter angrily.

Then the door opened and Lady Partridge entered.

She was not alone. Next to her was Sarah, not looking happy at all.

Her mother shoved her into the room and hissed something into her ear. Henry believed to understand that Lady Partridge wanted Sarah to walk over to him and introduce herself. But the girl neither moved nor said anything at all. Instead she just stood motionless and let the arms hang slackly at the sides of her body. Contrary to the afternoon when Henry had first caught sight of her in the garden, she wore a very clean, bright blue silken gown and her chestnut curls were neatly pinned up around her head. She also wore a pretty pearl necklace.

As she still showed no inclination to either walk over to him or say anything, and as the situation threatened to become rather awkward and embarrassing, Henry decided to get up and walk over to her, an encouraging smile on his lips, which she didnʼt return.

“Say something, Sarah,” Lady Partridge hissed through clenched teeth, gently elbowing the girl in her ribs. Reluctantly, Sarah took a slight bow, but no word came out of her mouth.

This is not going to work out… Henrys thought nervously.

He moved back to his chair and sat down, frustrated with his first official encounter with Sarah.

As soon as Sarah and her mother had sat down on the other side of the table, the butler and the chambermaid appeared to serve the starter: a neat little salad, topped with caviar. It wasnʼt quite what Henry had had in mind to quench his enormous hunger, but he was positive that there were still more nourishing things to come shortly.

Nobody spoke while they were eating, and apart from the sounds of cutlery against plates, it was incredibly quiet. The chambermaid and the butler were standing in the corner, stiff as statues, waiting for the lordship and the guests to finish so that they could clear the table and serve the next course.

“Adrian, are you making progress at university at all?” Lord Partridge suddenly asked during the break in between the starter and the main course, and carefully blotted his lips with a napkin. Just as it suited a noble man, his gestures were elegant and controlled even in the moment when he secretly tried to remove some bits of caviar that had got stuck in his huge mustache.

“Very much so, Sir,” Adrian replied enthusiastically.

“Especially when it comes to girls,” Harold threw in, bursting out with laughter.

Lady Partridge cast her son a mortified look and almost let her spoon drop to the floor.

“Harold...! I am appalled at your manners! We have guests today...” she exclaimed. Harold immediately fell silent while Adrianʼs face had become all red. Henry noticed that Dr. Scott was trying hard to suppress a grin.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Lord Partridge began to speak again. He had the habit of not looking at anyone and only occasionally raised an eyebrow—mostly in disapproval of something.

“It is scandalous enough that women are allowed to go to university nowadays, but I most definitely do not desire to have a son who goes pursuing them at such a young age.”

“Oh, I… I do not pursue them. Harold is terribly exaggerating,” Adrian stammered, throwing an angry side glance at his brother. “The girls are not located in the same building as the boys anyway.”

“Well, thanks be to God for that…” Lord Partridge rolled his eyes skywards. “Just imagine a dozen of young men and women in their process of becoming adults being distracted by each other when all they should do is learn. You are too young to get involved with a woman. Finish your studies first. And when you have done so and have found work which suits your standards, you are more than welcome to consider having a family. But on a very different note, I think that women are supposed to look after the offspring. I do not see any reason at all why a woman should have the same education as a man.”

“So why is he here then?” Sarah suddenly asked, pointing her head in Henryʼs direction. Her eyes sent out little furious sparkles towards her father. Some of these sparkles hit Henry on the way.

Lord Partridge seemed unimpressed by his daughterʼs rude and impulsive behavior.

“Mr. Abbott—as he is called, my dear—is here to teach you some manners and everything else that will be essential for you once you are married and move up into society circles where you need to be able to properly converse and where you should not ridicule anyone with inappropriate remarks. That is the reason why he is here. Is it not so, Mr. Abbott?”

“I am not going to marry,” Sarah said determinedly before Henry had a chance to answer.

“Donʼt be silly, of course you will. You know how eager Damian is to make you his wife,” Lady Partridge countered.

“I am too young!”

“Your birthday is drawing near, and then you will have just the right age to become the wife of Damian Cox. He is only three years older than you are.”

“I do not want Damian. He is a fool!” Sarah spat out Damianʼs name with disgust.

“Young Lady, you should be glad that someone like Damian displays the slightest sign of interest in you at all,” Lord Partridge exclaimed, his voice unexpectedly loud and harsh. “God knows whatʼs driving him to put up with a stubborn girl like you—but at the end of the day, I could not care less.”

“... As long as I am out of the house and do not ruin your reputation and your business,” Sarah muttered.

Lord Partridge angrily threw his napkin onto the table.

“One more word, Sarah, and I will send you up to your room.”

Henry saw that Sarahʼs hand trembled. He reckoned that she would jump up from her chair and leave voluntarily, but courage failed her. So she just remained seated and pulled a sulking face.

“Well, Mr. Abbott,” Lord Partridge said, letting out a sigh, “take this as a little foretaste of what you can expect as from tomorrow.”

It was a welcome distraction when the butler and the chambermaid reappeared with several platters.

During the following hour, which passed without any further unpleasant incidents, Henry feasted on boiled potatoes and roasted vegetables, on delicate pieces of pike, garnished with slices of lemon, and on chocolate cake and fruit. After that sumptuous meal, he felt more than saturated and, tired as he was, desperately longed for his bed. But he didnʼt dare to get up and excuse himself as long as nobody else did. He threw a secret glance at his watch and realized that it was rather late, but the Partridges didnʼt seem to be in a hurry.

Sarah, who had quietly endured the evening, was absent-mindedly staring at her plate, appearing as if she rather wanted to be somewhere else.

As if she doesnʼt belong at all… Henry thought. He caught himself secretly peeking at her every so often and was grateful that she didnʼt notice because otherwise she would have seen how his eyes hung on her lips, which were soft, full, and of a lovely carnation pink. Henry found that if Sarah hadnʼt looked so sad and angry, she would undoubtedly have been a real beauty of a girl.

“...Donʼt you think, Mr. Abbott?”

Startled, Henry looked up. Everyoneʼs eyes were directed towards him as the little congregation around the dinner table was obviously waiting for Henryʼs response to a question that Dr. Scott had posed to him. But Henry didnʼt have the slightest idea what the man had been talking about.

“Oh, please do forgive me, Dr. Scott. I… I am afraid, I did not realize that you were talking to me…” Henry stammered, embarrassedly.

Dr. Scott burst out with laughter. Clearly, he didnʼt mind Henryʼs absent-mindedness but seemed to find it rather amusing instead. Henry wondered, however, if the doctor had become aware of him staring at Sarah and felt slightly uncomfortable at the thought of it.

“Has the wine already gone to your head?” Dr. Scott sniggered and raised his glass. “It has definitely gone to mine.”

“Maybe it is just exhaustion. It has been a long day,” Henry answered politely.

“Or has Sarah already worn you out during the first few hours since your arrival?” Harold giggled.

From the corner of his eye, Henry noticed that Sarah frowned at her brotherʼs remark. Angrily, she picked at the bits of fruit on her plate with her fork.

“I have not had the pleasure as yet to get to know her properly,” Henry answered, not daring to look at the girl as he was somewhat afraid that this might annoy her.

“Be careful that you do not fall over a bucket of water tomorrow,” Adrian said.

“...Or end up under one. She enjoys emptying out buckets above peopleʼs heads, you know,” Harold added.

The two young men couldnʼt stop laughing. The others sat in tense silence around the table.

“Enough now,” Lord Partridge suddenly raised his voice. With a quick gesture, he indicated Roderick to come and clear the table.

There were no further arguments. Everyone finally finished their plates, and one after the other got up and made their way towards the door, leaving the mess on the table for the chambermaid and the butler to tidy up. Henry guessed that only then, after they had waited for so long, it would be the staffʼs own turn to eat something—and it was already way past nine oʼclock.

Henry finished his glass of wine and knuckled his eyes. He and Sarah were the only ones left sitting at the table. Sarah was lazily nibbling on a piece of apple. Henry guessed that she purposely took her time because she wanted to infuriate everybody else by generally doing things contrary to what other people demanded of her.

Suddenly, she looked at Henry. There was an awkward silence between them as Sarah watched Henry watch her, as she observed him and shamelessly studied his features. There was no expression on her face whatsoever, and nothing about her gave her feelings for him away. There were just her looks that didnʼt seem to say anything at all. Henry noticed, though, that no real meanness lay in her eyes but rather something which he interpreted as sadness.

“Mr. Abbott, will you join me in the library for a cigar?” Lord Partridge suddenly called over to him. It sounded more like a command than an offer.

Henry had no desire to join Lord Partridge for a cigar. He wanted to remain seated at the table with Sarah and try to find out if she was willing to talk to him at some stage, or if she had secretly decided to remain mute and inaccessible forever.

But then he got up and followed Lord Partridge out of the room.

* * *

On that night Sarah stood at her open window for a long time, breathing in the cool air. The chilly breeze caressed her skin and rose little goose bumps on her flesh. She started to hum a song that her mother had sung to her when she had been a child. After a little while, she climbed into her bed and took a leather bound book and a pencil from her bedside table.

She opened the book and began to write.



Dear Diary,

A new tutor has arrived. I am not sure what to make of him.

All I know is that he is surprisingly young and handsome. It is funny the way his dimples show when he smiles. He appeared so shy and somehow forlorn at the dinner table. Out of place, just like me...

But if he really thinks he could be the one to ʻtameʼ me for Horatioʼs sake, he is erring.

Good Night.



Suddenly feeling rather angry, Sarah slammed the book back on the bedside table, placing it next to a picture of a young brown-haired woman in her twenties, who smiled widely at the beholder and who bore a striking resemblance to Sarah.

Pensively, Sarah looked at the picture for a little while, then she cuddled up in her satin sheets and listened to the wind playing with the leaves of the trees, wishing she was back in her motherʼs arms, the way it had been during her childhood.