Where the Bonfires Burn

Aware it was a question Henrietta wouldn’t drop, Simon felt forced to answer her. Clenching his fists, the nails of his fingers crushed into his skin, and feeling a little foolish, he muttered, “I last visited Queen Square in 1782.”

“1782?”

“Yes.”

“You are aware the year is 1785,” replied Henrietta calmly, hiding the hint of smugness that threatened to reveal itself. Sick of Prudence’s haughtiness which had been prevalent since she buried her husband yesterday, not for a moment would Henrietta allow her guard to slip—let Simon and Prudence disgrace themselves with their pettiness, condescending manner and hurtful words. Yes, Henrietta had overheard Prudence frequently that day talk negatively about her, but that said, Henrietta suspected her deceased husband’s sister wanted her to hear every hurtful word.

“Yes,” admitted Simon, “and I confess I don’t hold the house close to my heart.”