Henrietta Aglow

Chapter VII

The next day was brimming with sunshine and happiness for Isabel. The Florentine air was never more enlivening, never so serene. The old city had a duality that Isabel found captivating. She understood why Mrs. Touchett chose it. It could not fail to please. The climate was lovely, the people were charming, the size was manageable, the vibration had a briskness that was not felt in Rome. Henrietta’s train arrived at the scheduled time and Isabel was at the station to greet her old friend.
“Good lord, Isabel Osmond! I never expected to see you here.” Henrietta hugged her friend, wrapping her in flapping waves of fabric and kissing her on both cheeks.
“I’ve been here for two days on business and thought I would surprise you. You once met me after an arduous journey and it felt the most unbelievable respite from weariness so I wanted to return the favor. Hello Mr. Bantling. It is so good to see you again,” she said offering her hand to her friend’s fiancé.
“Very good to see you looking so well, Mrs. Osmond. I fancy Florence agrees with you?”
“Very much so. But what brings you both here? I was never so surprised to get your telegrams.”
“Oh, I am writing a piece on small Italian museums, the more out-of-the-way Italian towns and what they have to offer art lovers for the Interviewer and Florence still evades my senses so I said to Mr. Bantling, we must go over and see some of the place first-hand and maybe take a run down to see Isabel and here you are, we need go no further. As you know, I’m quite done with Rome for our readers. I plan to interview the Countess Gemini and some others though she said you would not be interested in her views on Florence and would not even want to see her though she expressed concern for your well-being and wished to hear something of you. She said she is not welcome at the Palazzo Roccanera, her brother’s orders I take it and she has not even been able to see her niece. Oh, but I do go on, don’t I? We must get settled in my little hotel so we can have a real chat. I’ve a million things to tell you, not the least of which is that Mr. Bantling and I are married, don’t say anything, it was all quite sudden, we were married quietly, without a lot of fuss and here we are. This is a sort of honeymoon though it is a working honeymoon for me. Mr. Bantling, of course, always has some work to do, he’s getting ready to try for a seat in the House of Commons, if you can imagine.” Henrietta went on in her staccato voice all the while Mr. Bantling, blushing and tapping his walking stick, watched in hopeful anticipation for their luggage.
“You’re married! Why Henrietta, I never thought, but of course, with such a companion as Mr. Bantling, there is nothing so surprising. Congratulations dear and to you also Mr. Bantling. May I say, it is wonderfully concise of you to marry in so secret a way. But that won’t absolve you from sharing your joy with your friends…I absolutely insist on a festive dinner as my guest before we leave Florence.” She hugged her friend again and kissed Mr. Bantling on the cheek which got him blushing all over again before he went in search of the baggage.
“Oh Isabel, I can’t tell you how happy I am. And happy to see you looking so well. Ralph’s funeral saw you looking close to death. I knew you were so unhappy losing your cousin but there was more to it than that. Can you bear to tell me how things are for you at the Palazzo Roccanera? Is Osmond in Florence, by the way?”
“No dear, he is not. And I am staying with my aunt. You won’t believe it but it seems I have inherited Gardencourt after all.”
“Good golly, Isabel Archer, that’s wonderful! Now you can be join me in my British residency.”
“You forget I’m Isabel Osmond. No, I’m not moving to Gardencourt, Henrietta, my place is in Rome but…”
“Your place can’t be in any house of gloom, you are too fine, Isabel.”
“My husband and I have called for a truce.”
“A truce. Is that what passes for marriage in Italy?”
“I don’t know what it passes for, but it is working for us. We go our own way, have little contact and follow the path of least resistance. Meanwhile, I have been given the care of Pansy, I plan to see her married.”
“Oh well, the poor girl could do worse. That’s very generous of you. Do you think you can find someone her father will approve of?”
“I’m not interested in someone Osmond might approve of. I’m looking out for Pansy’s interest.”
“Wasn’t there a young man interested, an American her father did not go in for?”
“That’s in the past.”

They were now walking at a brisk pace, being ushered into a carriage by Mr. Bantling’s capable instruction with Henrietta instructing him while her mind was a whirl of commingled planning. Isabel kept up with her friend, thankful she was wearing a sturdy shoe and together they entered the small pension Henrietta Stackpole Bantling used while in Florence. It was not grand; the descendant of egalitarian principle had no wish for that though Mr. Bantling did not mind a touch of grandeur but Mr. Bantling never countered his wife; he knew her to be inflexible on certain matters but as he found her to be quite adaptable on others and so far had no complaint of his wife of three weeks. She said he was as clear as glass, and though he wouldn’t go so far as to accuse his wife of such clarity, he was able to discern her prevarications if not precisely, with at least a percentage of accuracy that allowed the good English gentleman some comfort. He was very happy these days and one only had to look upon his cheerful demeanor to see that marriage was agreeing with him in as much as he always suspected it might. It took some time to bring Henrietta Stackpole around to this way of thinking but they seemed to come to the same conclusion at about the same time. Their hesitation evaporated at just the right time and temperature.

Once settled in their room, Henrietta excused her husband who was always on the lookout for luncheon despite his wife’s indifference to eating for the most part. She called for tea to be served and the two women began talking at once.
“Married! My aunt just his morning called you a ‘sly one.’ Why didn’t you tell me? Where did this marriage ceremony take place?” Isabel was full of questions but it was partly to keep from the discussion she knew she would eventually have: Madame Merle’s return to Europe and the Countess Gemini’s banishment from Rome. Isabel would have some difficulty explaining both without tipping her own hand which she was reluctant to do. Not because she wanted secrets from her friend but because she was having a pleasant visit in Florence and did not at all want to talk of her marriage, her husband and the secret she found out before her cousin’s death.

Henrietta suspected much foul play at the hands of Gilbert Osmond, nothing would shock her; she had gotten over her apprehension of European deception. She by no means planned to conspire with such artifice but she was less intent on seeing and reporting her findings than when she was first abroad. Henrietta had become acclimatize to the Old World’s modes and manners. She was still full of scolding when the notion took her but the notion did not take her with just such vigor these days. Henrietta had mellowed. She now looked positively content if one could be called content with a blazing radiance. She was almost beautiful. Isabel wished Ralph could see her; he would tease her mercilessly, this friend, who had turned out to be more of a friend than anyone expected. Henrietta attended to her cousin Ralph on his journey from Rome to England where he went to breath his last breathe in his own home. Henrietta went to great length to comfort Ralph when Isabel herself could not be there for him. Osmond’s wrath had so settled around Isabel then that she hardly knew how to be anything other than the cowered wife of a imperious husband. She blushed to think of it now.

“Well, dear, it was at Lady Pensil’s house in the country. Only a few family members were there, old cousins of Mr. Bantling’s mother, an aunt, his sister and her family and believe it or not, my own mother and father crossed the pond to be there. They were visiting and we decided if they were to see their daughter married, it would have to be now and it took Lady Pensil only a week to put it all together. Oh, it was nothing fancy; my parents are not grand but I think Lady Pensil was pleased with her handiwork. She is most happy to see her brother married. She didn’t take to me at first but I think she has come around. I intrigue her. I am not of a type she is used to seeing but she cannot quite put me off. She suspects I might still add some stature to the old family name. She’s not prepared to throw me over just yet.”
“Who would throw you over, you marvelous thing?” gushed Isabel, relaxing in the company of someone who knew her so well. She drank tea, nibbled at cake and found amusement in Henrietta’s portrayal of her in-laws. Such charming open views, she thought. For a moment she remembered her own closed, fearful relationship, especially in the early days as she began to see her husband for the petty tyrant he was. She felt a pang of remorse for her old innocent self who looked at the world with fresh eyes and a forgiving spirit. Osmond made her doubt everything.

“Oh, I know that look. You are thinking now of your husband. I can always tell, the light goes out in your eyes. Please tell me, dear friend, what you really have been up to.”
“Just as I said. We have a bargain. I let him expand his collection of paintings and coins and he lets me plan for his daughter. That was the agreement and he has lived up to it.” She did not want to go further with confession. She did not care for pity or disapproval. She was still married to Osmond and felt culpable in talking of his faults. They were the business of no one and she still had some pride.

“I’m afraid I have to leave you, dear. My aunt is expecting me.” Madame Merle’s name had not come up yet so Isabel decided to end the visit. They would meet again tomorrow. Isabel invited her friend to luncheon at Mrs. Touchett’s without exactly getting the old woman’s approval but she thought her aunt might like some company. Who would not like Mr. and Mrs. Bantling’s company? Their joy was palpable.