TITILLATING TUESDAY - A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Henley raced through brambles and thickets until he reached the barn at the far end of the property. Gaspar, his ten year old gelding, was in a stall munching on a pile of fresh alfalfa. He looked up when Henley entered and gave a soft whinny. Henley grabbed the saddle pad and threw it over Gaspar’s brushed back. He placed the heavy leather saddle on top, making sure it was set comfortably below the withers before swinging the girth under his belly and synching it down.

“There’s a good boy,” Henley said soothingly, as he mounted the fine horse. “Are you ready for some exercise? Heeya,” he yelled.” The horse took off at a gallop into the warm, early afternoon.

TITILLATING TUESDAY - A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

As if a thick cloud had settled over the Hornbrook estate, an eerie silence encased their world. Edith shut herself in her room and would not go down even for meals, allowing only Tilly to enter. Henley III spent most of his time pacing the grounds taking in the fresh spring air while glancing earnestly toward the trees east of the pond. He’d read the morning paper not absorbing it’s news, hardly eat a thing, and would take his drink of whiskey at three, then polish off a bottle of wine with his dinner - alone. Not surprising, Rosetta had retreated to her forest hut after giving strict orders that under no circumstances was anyone to follow or call on her. 

TITILLATING TUESDAY - A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER TWELVE

Henley put the crockery teacup to his mother’s lips and tipped the fragrant herbal tea into her quivering mouth. She pushed it away.

“Stop behaving like a baby, Mother. You’re being absolutely ridiculous.”

Edith turned her cheek to him and put her nose in the air.

“I’m being ridiculous? Have you taken a good look at yourself, Henley?” 

Edith glared over at Rosetta who was busy kneading dough into a soft, silky ball. When the consistency was to her liking, she rolled it into an oblong pancake, rubbed soft, unpasturized butter onto the smooth surface, and sprinkled brown sugar, cinnamon, and currents over top. She turned up the edges at one end and rolled until it was a tubular shape. Slicing along the tube, she cut a dozen cinnamon filled circles, which she placed on a greased cookie sheet to bake in the wood cookstove.

“Think about what you’re doing, Henley,” Edith continued. “Getting involved with a servant girl who bakes bread, cleans and gathers herbs. Your grandfather would turn in his grave if he knew.” Henley just laughed.

“I doubt it, Mother. If memory serves me, Henley the first was a renegade, a libertine. Yes, he’d be turning in his grave alright, wanting out.”

TITILLATING TUESDAY - A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The following day was quiet at the Hornbrook estate, save the household staff cleaning up after the ball. There had been a large crowd in attendance, which the family was pleased about, but that meant a good day’s work clearing the room of china, fine crystal, and stemware, the mess left behind by some of the younger people who had stayed on till well past midnight, drinking champagne and smoking out on the lawn. 

Dorrington left shortly after Wesley, Proberta, and Henley had moved to the drawing room, and took his tired aunt home. Wesley had shown outward disappointment when hearing that news, much to the surprise of the rest of the group, but no one paid much attention. Wesley, on the other hand, could not keep thoughts of this fine young gentleman at bay, concocting various schemes of how they could get together again, and sooner the better. He had no idea how long Dorrington planned on staying with his aunt, but Wesley felt sure they would have the opportunity to converse, or go out for a ride, preferably alone. Perhaps Dorrington could be convinced to stay on a few weeks longer than planned. 

Henley rose early, put on his flannel shirt, corduroy trousers, and Macintosh, slipped on his green Hunter boots, and headed out of doors for a walk. The morning air was cool and damp, the grounds covered in heavy dew. He took a deep breath and picked up his pace. He enjoyed being out in the early part of the day. It was peaceful, but also held a certain level of excitement, for he never knew what forest animal he might startle as he made his way farther from the protected grounds of the estate, and deeper into the woods. Dawn and dusk were known as the times when all natural creatures roamed their land freely. Birds chirped loudly, foliage crunched underfoot as deer, elk, rabbits, and fox, came out of hiding, fearless on their home turf, before the full light of day. 

TITILLATING TUESDAY - A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER TEN   

The band started playing at seven pm sharp, just as guests began to filter into the main foyer. Wesley stood at the drinks table with his cousin, Henley, both with dry martinis in hand. Henley's sister, Margaret, who stood across from Proberta at the entryway to the grand hall, seemed to take a special interest in the older generation, of which there were few, ensuring each was comfortably seated and were served their cocktail. It was a party primarily for the younger set, however, Margaret knew their elders found great pleasure in attending such events, to watch the dancing, eager to see who interacted with whom.
    Proberta hung by the doorway greeting each and every one of their guests with her flirty charm. She lingered unabashedly around the few bachelors who had been invited, annoying all the single women who had hoped for free and easy access to these fine, young prospects. Sadly, they knew that once Proberta made her self known to any man, they would have eyes only for her. Proberta, of course, relished in the attention, ignoring the glares and snide remarks from her peers. She seemed to find a particularly handsome gentleman by the name of Dorrington Bromberg, most alluring. He was new to the area, visiting his Aunt from Cornwall. After chatting briefly, Proberta took his arm and led him onto the dance floor. The two cousins looked on with amusement.
    "Well, it appears that the lady you, or I, are to be bequeathed to has engaged the attentions of someone more..."
    "More handsome than us?" Wesley said, and laughed. However, his eyes were glued to the couple twirling around the room.

WEDNESDAY'S PHOTO OF THE DAY

Good Morning Sunshine.

Photo: Monashee Frantz
Location: Los Angeles, California
Website: http://www.monasheephoto.com/
From her boudoir collection


If you’d like to be a contributor to our Wednesday photo day, please email your formatted shot to madlakepages@gmail.com with all pertinent information.

TITILLATING TUESDAY - A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER NINE

While preparations for the masquerade ball were underway downstairs in the long gallery, Matilda was upstairs in her lady’s chamber, applying another cold compress to the forehead of one Edith Hornbrook. Edith did not take the news of her son’s new love interest well, suffering fainting spells and episodes of great emotional duress. Tilly, knowing her ladyship well enough to understand that a good dose of TLC would help her recover more quickly, showered her with attention. 

“There, there, My Lady. Just lie back against this fresh linen and let me sooth your burning forehead, brush away your worries.” Tilly dipped the cotton cloth into a bowl of water, where rose petals and freshly picked herbs floated. 

“Tilly, you can’t brush away my worries. No one can.” She moaned and turned her head away, then reconsidered. “Oh, Tilly, what would I do without you?” Edith did not look at her handmaid, but the expression on her face, around her eyelids pressed together in what looked like agony, let Tilly know she was needed, even loved, by this seemingly callous, cynical woman. In return, Tilly willingly gave her usual loyal support and care. She had been with the family since Henley was three years old, having taken over from a woman whose mother and grandmother had been chambermaid and nanny on the Hornbrook estate, going back for generations. No one seemed to know the real story of why they left after so many years of loyal servitude, but after Tilly had asked once, she knew better than to bring up the subject again. Instead, she took over the duties to Mistress of the house with an eagerness that won over even Edith’s stone cold heart, which made Tilly more than content in her position.

TITILLATING TUESDAY - A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER EIGHT

Henley had not planned to head in the other direction the afternoon of the hunt. In fact, he looked forward to riding out with the rest of the group, and was happy to have his cousin, Wesley, along to ride with him. Although he and Wesley had entertained the idea of taking a slight turn off the beaten path so they could ‘accidentally’ find themselves at The Pig’s Prattle for a pint, they had finally decided against the idea, for Proberta’s sake. So Henley was quite surprise when his horse had spooked at a fallen tree beside the trail, and had taken off through the forest in a westerly direction. Henley, for his part, did not attempt to rein him in, which is how he eventually landed directly in front of Rosetta’s hut. 

When he arrived, she was nowhere to be found. Henley tethered Gaspar to a nearby fence rail beside a meadow rich with green alfalfa, where he was happy to graze to his heart’s content. Then he took off in search of Rosetta.

Cloud of Hawthorne

CHAPTER SIX

Proberta was furious. She paced back and forth in front of the roaring fire Beckworth had built in the drawing room fireplace. After days, even months, of putting up a stoic front regarding her Henley, she now did nothing to hide her indignation. She had been stood up.
Wesley walked over from the bar carrying a crystal glass filled with sweet sherry.
“Here you go, my dear Proberta,” Wesley said, handing her the glass. “This will warm your spirits. Drink up.”
“You’re a fool to think a mere sherry will warm my spirits,” she said sharply. Nonetheless, she tossed back the wine in one gulp, then handed the empty glass back to a stunned Wesley. He returned to the bar, uncertain whether to refill her glass. Proberta watched him go, then quickly grabbed and drank a glass of champagne from the tray that Randolph was passing around. When Wesley returned, she seemed to have softened.
“Thank you, Wes.” She quickly took the glass from him, this time taking a small, albeit significant sip. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I really shouldn't have done that when you’ve been so kind to me.” She took another gulp of the sherry. “I’m just fed up with that cousin of yours.” She moved closer to Wesley so that her arm brushed against his hand. “Yes, I think I am feeling a tad bit warmer after all,” she giggled. “Oh Wes, you do understand women, don’t you?”

A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER TWO

Henley towel dried his hair, slapped on some cologne, and walked into the bedroom where Beckworth had laid out his evening wear. He had called his manservant off his duties so he might have some privacy to consider the events ahead of him. With Proberta and her parents due to arrive at seven, he had little, if any time to get out of his present situation. The proposal was expected. Although his father seemed less than interested in the whole affair, his mother was hell-bent on his marrying society’s most eligible debutant. Proberta’s parents, Sir Miles Gerber, and his charming wife, Alexandra, couldn't be happier. As for the young woman in question, Henley felt that, like him, she was just doing her duty. After observing her at cocktail parties and balls, Proberta seemed more inclined to be a reckless flirt than to want to settle for one man, particularly someone like Henley. She was witty, clever, and gorgeous, and knew it. Henley had a  reputation for being only moderately good looking, uninterested in hunting, fishing, or athletics, all of which were practically mandatory for those of the male persuasion, and to top things off, he was a bore at social events. Once married, Henley knew all this and more, would only increase her outside interests. However, arrangements were being made and nothing was to be done, or was there?

A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER ONE

“So, do you have it?” She asked.

Henley Hornbrook III dug into the deep pockets of his brown wool trousers and pulled out a small, square velvet box. A glimmer of light caught the thin gold band that bordered the lid, as the sun streamed in through the open window. The small gift sparkled. Lace curtains stirred from a soft, spring breeze. He cleared his throat, then gently lifted the lid of the box, and thrust it toward his mother proudly. She smiled.

“Ahh, that will do. Yes, that will do perfectly, just perfectly.” She faced the open window, allowing the air to cool her. It was a warm day, and the linen collar of her dress, tightly buttoned around her neck, was not only itchy but it was making her terribly warm. Unless, she thought, it was another one of those blasted hot flushes. 

Edith Hornbrook turned toward her son briskly and brushed his hand out of the way, nearly toppling the five carat diamond engagement ring from it’s nest of purple satin. 

“Enough,” she said sharply. “We mustn’t fuss over matters such as these. Put the thing away.”

“But Mother...”

“It’s fine, Henley,” his mother cut him off. “She’ll be delighted by it, you’ll marry, and all will be well. Now, go and dress for supper. You don’t want to keep your father waiting now, do you?”