by L G Rollins
Lady Shakerley didn’t know the half of it. Still, she didn’t feel like explaining, and so she simply nodded again.
“Society can be rather unkind,” Lady Chapman said.
“And the men rather trying of one’s patience,” Lady Shakerley added.
“Yet, worth it, when the right one comes along.” Lady Chapman’s words had a bit of sorrow in them.
Helena pulled back, standing up straight once more. “Thank you. I think I just needed a parent for a few minutes again.”
Both women gave her such melancholy smiles; perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything.
Lady Shakerley’s voice was slow when she next spoke. “You do realize that your problems won’t truly go away until you are wed, correct?”
Helena nodded.
“Well,” Lady Shakerley continued, her words still slow, “if ever you grow tired of the games and the waiting, I am sure my husband and myself can find you someone.” She lifted a hand before Helena could object and hurried on. “Someone kind and well off. Someone who would remove all disgrace from your name and allow you to reenter society without worry. And this time, I promise I’ll be involved enough that no arrangement would be made without the knowledge and consent of both parties.”
Helena wanted to be upset. But looking at Lady Shakerley, she knew the woman’s offer came from a place of love and concern.
“My arrangement with my late husband was arranged,” Lady Chapman said, “and we grew to love each other dearly. I thank the Lord every day that my parents were wise enough to put us together.”
Perhaps Helena had been rash to assume such was a bad idea. Of course, in terms of being engaged to Lord Chapman, she hadn’t had the opportunity to consider it a good idea or not. And she certainly hadn’t been consulted when he cried off and left her reputation in tatters.
Now, though, things were different. She was being consulted. She was going to step up and make sure her future was one where she was safe and protected.
Lady Chapman gave Lady Shakerley a quick sideways glance and then looked back at Helena. “If you are at all interested, I do happen to know a gentleman who would suit quite well.”
Her son’s face came to Helena’s mind.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask him to join us before,” she said.
Then she wasn’t talking of Lord Chapman. Helena tried not to feel disappointed.
But why would she be? Her and Lord Chapman making a match was a door that had already closed. Most emphatically.
“Do you wish for me to write to him?” Lady Chapman asked.
Gracious, she wanted an answer now? Helena was still reeling from her encounter with Lord Ellis. Could she even handle another gentleman? Another introduction tinged with awkwardness the moment he realized who she was? Another painful period of trying to convince him that all the scandal was fake? Another round of moments wondering what yet another person thought of her?
“I see we have overwhelmed you,” Lady Shakerley said. “How about this? We’ll have Lady Chapman write the gentleman and invite him to join us, but no more. You can get to know him before any more is said on the subject.”
She ought to say yes. Another eligible bachelor. Nothing could be more needed. Moreover, both ladies agreed they wouldn’t do more than simply have him come and stay for a bit. If she discovered he would never suit, that would be the end of it, and neither party would be embarrassed or worse off.
“All right,” Helena said after a bit of their convincing. “Write to him. But I make no promises.”
Chapter Fourteen
The next day, when everyone else chose to take a turn about the gardens, Helena agreed to join. Time outdoors was a precious commodity in the bleakest months of winter. Still, as they walked, Helena found herself lagging further and further behind.
If she could not see Lord Ellis speaking animatedly with Lady Wynn, she would have been wary of distancing herself from the rest of the group. As it was, a little bit of quiet was proving soothing to her soul. She still didn’t know how she felt about Lady Chapman writing some gentleman and inviting him—she sincerely hoped Lady Andrews wouldn’t be put out by the extra addition.
Helena’s gaze moved out past the group of people in front of her—the people who spoke well enough of her when she was around but whispered most unkindly when she wasn’t—and focused instead on the tops of the trees in the distant forest. They were a mixture of brown and green, some barren and looking for all to see as though they’d died. Some were still a deep green, their slender pine needles vibrant against the muted colors that surrounded them.
“Watch out,” a young voice called out.
Helena glanced about, seeing the large tree root jutting out of the ground barely in time to avoid tripping over it.
With a bit of a skip, she managed to stay on her feet. Helena righted herself and glanced about. She could see no one but could not deny that she’d heard a child call to her.
A second, equally young voice hushed the first.
Helena slowly turned toward the sound. If she wasn’t mistaken, the voices had come from off the path to her left. She moved up toward the large tree with the roots that had nearly brought her to her knees and peered around it.
Huddled atop the snow, crouched low with their heads down in their hands, were two small children. They were clearly trying to make themselves as small and hard to see as possible.
“Hello,” Helena said.
Both children jumped, their gazes meeting hers. Helena recognized the scullery maid, Mary, at once. The boy at her side was her brother, most likely; his eyes were nearly identical to his sister’s.
“Evening, miss,” Mary said, scrambling to stand, though one foot immediately dropped several inches into the snow. Once she was standing, moreover, she dropped into a curtsy.
The boy followed suit, bowing beside his sister. He was dressed in the most worn-out pair of breeches Helena had ever seen. Holes tattered the bottom hem while a variety of different colored threads patched up what must have been yet more holes along either leg. Were these two truly in Lord Andrews’s employ? Surely someone could have given them something better to wear.
“Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?” Helena directed her question to the girl but kept her voice soft. Both children looked like they may bolt at any minute.
“Yes, miss. Sorry, miss.” More curtsying. Then she turned to her brother and whispered, “Remember, obey the groom like you would Mr. Chant. And no more hiding.”
The girl came out from behind the tree, but her brother reached out, stopping her.
“Will he hurt me, too?” the boy asked in a feeble voice.
Helena’s heart ached at the sound. The poor thing. And who was this Mr. Chant? An ardent desire to protect these two children rushed through Helena.
“Yes he will,” the girl replied without hesitation. “So mind your respecting and hop to.”
The boy nodded and pulled out a pitchfork that had been tucked beneath a shrub. It looked far too big for the small lad to be handling all on his own. Walking most awkwardly, he made his way toward the stables.
The girl remained beside Helena. “Please forgive m’ brother. He’s not as familiar with workin’ in a big house as I am.”
“I am sure he will learn quickly.” Helena hoped it sounded like reassurance. Truly, she wanted so badly to reach out and pull both children into a hug.
“And thank ye,” the girl continued, “for speaking to the housekeeper for me. I know she would have done more iffin you hadn’t said somethin’ to her.”
“You are quite welcome. Perhaps we could walk back toward the house together.” Helena was growing cold anyway and, though she knew it was quite unheard of for a woman in her station to walk with a scullery maid, she was loath to leave the little girl just yet. Both children seemed quite alone in the world, and so young, too.
“If you wish it, miss.”
With the young girl following close beside her, Helena le
d the way past the stables, the sound of the boy’s pitchfork knocking against a wall occasionally echoing behind them.
“Are you enjoying working here at Hedgewood Manor?” Helena asked.
“Oh yes, miss,” the girl said. “It is nice to be sleeping indoors again.”
Helena’s stomach flipped at the thought of both children, huddled together, out in the winter snow all night.
“Yes,” she said, “I am sure it is.”
“M’ brother will make a fine stable boy. I promise. He just don’t know all he needs to yet.”
“At least he has you. I am sure you will be able to help him understand what is expected of him.”
“I try. We may be poor as church mice and in want of much, but at least I knows how a house is runned.”
Helena’s mind once more turned to her father. He, too, had begun poor. Though the son of a titled gentleman, when he and her mother had married, they hadn’t had much. But his knowledge of business and crop rotation had not only saved them but had provided an extremely comfortable life.
“Yes,” Helena said, “between want and ignorance, the second is far worse.”
“Aye, miss. For want can end, but those who are ignorant are doomed.”
Gracious, but for one so small, she was quite wise. Helena thought back to how the girl had watched over and guided her brother—her life had certainly forced her to grow up quickly. “I am glad you are able to find some refuge here at Hedgewood.”
“’Tis better than prison,” her voice shook a bit, “or the workhouses.”
Indeed, even with the likes of a stern housekeeper to answer to, working here would be far better than the alternative. But she didn’t like how their topic of conversation seemed to weigh the little girl down. “Tell me your brother’s name.”
“Jim, miss.”
Mary and Jim. Simple, sweet names. They fit the children well. Nonetheless, Helena had not forgotten her mention of a Mr. Chant. The little thing was warming to her, but Helena thought it was quite possible she would close up quickly if Helena asked too many questions outright. “Have your parents left this earth, then?”
“Aye. Three years ago, it was. During winter, like this.”
Helena’s heart ached anew. “And is it only the two of you now?”
Mary didn’t answer right away, but her steps slowed.
Perhaps asking directly was the only option open to Helena. “You mentioned a Mr. Chant. Is he your uncle?”
“Aye.” The girl’s expression, however, was at odds with her affirmation.
Whoever Mr. Chant was, he made Mary most uneasy. “Do you see him often?” By which Helena truly wanted to know if he hurt her and Jim often.
“Now and then.”
Another half-truth, if Helena was correct in her assessment. Then again, it very well could be that Mary didn’t like to speak about a man who regularly raised a hand to her and her brother.
At that moment, however, they reached the house.
Mary dropped into yet another curtsy; Helena had never seen someone curtsy as frequently as this little girl. “If there’s nothing else, miss, I’ll return to m’ duties.”
The girl was right; she did understand the ways of a big house. Helena hoped it would be enough to keep her and her brother inside for many winters to come.
“Thank you for walking with me, Mary.”
With that, the little girl was gone, rushing off to see to laundry and dishes and who knew what else. Helena stood just outside the door for several minutes, staring at the footprints Mary had left behind in the snow. It felt good to have befriended a little girl who needed it. Perhaps if she applied herself, she could think up some other way to help them even more? Helena was alone in the world, with hardly a penny to her name, but that didn’t mean she didn’t intend to try. She still had friends, and she still had her wits. After speaking with Mary, she felt positively rich.
Moreover, she couldn’t help but feel she’d been a bit pitiful as of late.
For the first time, Helena felt hopeful regarding the gentleman Lady Chapman had written. Lady Chapman said he was an upstanding, honorable man. It was wrong to demand more. She’d been richly blessed her whole life, in so many ways children like Mary and Jim would never be. From now on, she would focus less on her own situation and more on others. She would be less greedy and more generous. Life wasn’t easy for anyone, yet she was determined, somehow, to make the most of her own.
Chapter Fifteen
The only benefit to finding himself tricked into walking into dinner with Miss Wynn was that it left a man time to carefully spy on one’s sister while his dinner companion prattled on and on regarding lace, fashion, and the latest plates in La Belle Assemblée.
Fredrick nodded when he thought appropriate, but mostly his attention was on Christina. Both she and Eleanor had spent a great deal of time with Topper while on horseback that afternoon. Fredrick hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Now, though, Eleanor was sitting quite farther away at the table than the twins normally sat. Christina, moreover, seemed to speak to no one but Topper.
He was very likely being overly concerned. There was probably nothing between them other than friendship. After all, a lady could not always choose for herself who walked her into dinner, as Miss Wynn had somehow managed to do. Nor could she always choose to sit beside her sister. Nonetheless, Fredrick didn’t miss the several glances Eleanor was giving Christina. Nor the fact that Christina didn’t return a single one. He may be wrong—he certainly had been before when it came to his sisters—but he was growing more and more certain something had changed that afternoon.
“Do you not agree, Lord Chapman?”
Blast, what had Miss Wynn been saying? He was fairly sure it had been something about cream-colored lace being superior to ivory-colored lace.
“I suppose it depends on the dress and on the wearer.”
Either he hadn’t been following Miss Wynn’s diatribe as closely as he’d hoped, or she simply didn’t enjoy someone disagreeing with her. Either way, she turned away from him in a huff and began speaking to Lord Ellis, who sat on her other side.
Blessedly, at that same moment, Miss Spencer, who sat on his left, turned away from her own dinner partner, Lord Forbes.
Fredrick leaned slightly toward her. “What do you make of Christina just now?”
Miss Spencer’s gaze moved from one twin to the other.
“She’s the one with Topper,” he offered.
Miss Spencer let out a small, gruff sigh. “I know that—or I would have had you given me just a minute longer to ascertain whose face is longer, and whose hair is a shade darker.”
Fredrick smiled; he liked how determined she was to tell one from the other. Most people he knew remained content to lump his two sisters together and treat them as though they were one and the same. It drove Christina and Eleanor to madness frequently.
“She seems to be having a good time,” Miss Spencer said.
Fredrick agreed; that wasn’t what was bothering him. “Does she seem to be enjoying herself too much?”
Miss Spencer picked up her glass and took a sip, but he could see her watching his sister over the rim of her glass. “Now that you mention it, she does seem rather . . . focused on her conversation with Topper.”
Then he wasn’t imagining things. His leg began to bounce slightly. What did he know of Topper, truly? Yes, Lady Andrews was known for inviting only the best lot to her house parties, but what respectable gentleman used that as reason to shirk his brotherly responsibilities? He would need to speak with Topper and—
Miss Spencer’s hand brushed over his knee and rested against his leg. The touch was unexpected and wholly upending. Why Lord Ellis, Topper, and Lord Forbes weren’t fawning over her by now, he couldn’t rightly say.
“You’re shaking the table,” she whispered and slipped her hand away once more.
The light touch had sent pricks of awareness up his leg and heat up his neck. And yet, Fredrick foun
d himself wishing she’d kept her hand there, regardless. He ground his jaw, forcing his gaze, and his thoughts, to remain on his sister. “You’ve spoken with Topper more than I have. What sort of man is he? Is he honorable?” He very well could be a cad—a jackanapes who only acted respectably in company.
“He has always been very polite.”
“Might it be an act, though?” He knew far too many gentlemen who assumed one demeanor among the ladies of the ton and another entirely when in the gaming dens and worse.
“I suppose, but I saw no indication it was.”
“But it might be.”
Miss Spencer slowly lowered her fork onto the table and looked over at him. She had one eyebrow raised. “You seem determined to think ill of him.”
“And if I am?”
“I would call it poor form.”
He flattened his mouth into a tight line. “You said as much to me in the library.”
“Perhaps that’s what I always say when you are around.” She plopped a bit of mutton into her mouth.
He leaned forward and began cutting his own mutton. “I cannot like all the attention he’s giving her.”
“Cannot or will not?”
Fredrick very nearly dropped his silverware in frustration. “And here I thought we were friends.”
Miss Spencer had the audacity to giggle under her breath. “Of course we’re friends. But Christina and I are friends as well. Don’t you want to see her happily situated?”
“Yes. I suppose.”
“As the one responsible for her, I would have thought you a little more eager to be rid of her,” Miss Spencer teased.
Fredrick rocked his head to the side, eying her sideways. “So now I’m your boorish friend?”
She lifted her half-bare shoulder in a dainty shrug. The sight sent his heart into a strange, syncopated race.
“No, you are right,” he said. “I am being boorish. And overprotective.”
“You’re a good brother.”
“I don’t know if I am. The problem is, I’m her only brother. I wish I knew what my father would have done in this situation. It’s completely up to me to watch over her and Eleanor. To see that they make good matches. I always knew, growing up, that someday they would be courted and would eventually marry. I just never imagined I would be the one charged with the responsibility of seeing them properly settled.”
