by Susana Ellis
“Oh yes,” said Helena, “That would be lovely, Mrs. Wykeham. I’m sure the children would love to explore the maze.”
Noting the sea of blank faces around her, Helena swallowed, aware that she’d made another faux pas. “I-er-thought I’d heard of a maze being here, but obviously I am mistaken,” she said weakly.
Mr. Wykeham, a stout gentleman who, she'd been told, was the grandson of the notorious Whig politician, Charles James Fox, stroked his chin thoughtfully. “A maze, you say? Such as the one at Hampton Court? No, we haven’t one at present, but it seems a capital idea. I shall have to speak to Baskett about it…”
Before Helena could reflect on the effect of this thoughtless error on the space-time continuum, the butler entered with the news that Mr. Baskett was waiting to see his employer in the library, and Mr. Wykeham excused himself.
“A maze, Miss Lloyd?” said James, an eyebrow raised.
Helena wanted to fall through the floor. “I-I suppose I was thinking of some other castle,” she said, taking a quick sip of tea while she avoided James’s gaze. “I-we’d love to see the gardens, ma’am. Wouldn’t we, girls?”
Emily’s head shot up immediately. “Oh yes! I love flowers! I have my own flower garden at Newsome Grange, you know.”
Mrs. Wykeham smiled at her. “In that case, the Culpeper Garden will put you in alt. The flowers are in their best colors this time of year.” She turned her attention to the younger girls. “When my children were younger, they adored romping about in the Wood Garden. It was quite impossible to keep track of them! Lovely trees and hedges to hide in.” Turning toward Helena: “A maze would be a wonderful addition! How fortuitous that we met you today, Miss Lloyd!”
Helena swallowed nervously and pretended not to notice the amused twinkle in James Walker’s eyes.
She set her teacup down and wiped her mouth delicately with her napkin. “I am equally interested in admiring your gardens, Mrs. Wykeham. It is so kind of you to treat us to such a first-rate tour. Do you not agree, girls?”
“Awesome!” said Theo.
At James’s raised eyebrow, Helena looked away hastily at Emily, who responded more properly, “Thank you for the lovely tea, Mrs. Wykeham. I adore strawberry tarts.”
“And the macaroons were delicious too,” chimed in Annabelle. “May we see the gardens now, Mrs. Wykeham?”
“You mustn’t be impatient, girls. At least give Mrs. Wykeham a chance to finish her tea,” Helena chided.
Mrs. Wykeham laid down her napkin and smiled at the girls. “Not at all,” she said as she rose from her chair. “I’m far too fond of sweets as it is. A stroll would be most welcome, I assure you.” She glanced through the window at some ominous clouds in the distance. “It’s best that we take advantage of the sun while we can, for it looks as though rain may be on the way.”
* * *
“It was the Culpepers who saved the Castle in the seventeenth century,” Mrs. Wykeham explained. “Sir Cheney Culpeper’s alliance with Cromwell kept it from being destroyed during the Civil War, and ironically, it was John, the first Lord Culpeper, who saved it again when he helped the Prince of Wales—that was Charles II, you know—escape. As a token of gratitude, the Culpepers were granted five million acres of land in Virginia, and in 1793, it all passed to my husband from a distant uncle. It is the sale of the land in America that made it possible for us to restore the Castle to its former glory.”
She nodded at Helena. “Our two countries may have their differences of opinion, Miss Lloyd, but it cannot be denied that we English owe a great debt to you Americans for providing the resources to maintain our crumbling edifices.”
Helena wanted to deny all responsibility—was her hostess implying that she was a wealthy heiress?—but she thought it impolite, so she gave a wavering smile and exclaimed over the vibrant colors. “I see roses and poppies, and—is that lavender? What are these?”
“Lupins,” Emily responded. And named a long list of Latin names that Helena didn’t recognize.
Mrs. Wykeham saw a kindred spirit in Emily, and the two strolled along the paths speaking a language only they could understand. James and Helena accompanied the younger girls in a path toward the Wood Garden, which boasted a river with a lovely cascade, a quaint series pier and—peacocks!
“You mustn’t frighten them,” James cautioned as the girls shrieked with pleasure and started running toward the exotic birds. “Walk slowly and watch from a distance, and perhaps one will spread its tail for you.”
He and Helena walked around the park side by side, enjoying the beauty and keeping an eye on Annabelle and Theo, but otherwise saying very little. Finally, James broke into the silence.
“The grounds are beautiful, are they not?”
“Indeed they are,” Helena agreed. “I can’t imagine how many gardeners must be employed to maintain it all.” Suddenly afraid that he would mention her error with the maze, she inquired about the gardens at Melbourne Manor… and then wished she had not, when he quirked an eyebrow at her.
“You must come and see them for yourself, Miss Lloyd. They are nothing to this, of course—I have neither fortune nor expectation of such, but I was able to add a second gardener last year, and they have done a creditable job rescuing it from the weeds.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Do you have a passion for gardening, then?”
“Not at all,” she said with a chuckle. “I grew up in a small town. We had potted plants and such, but my mother was the one with green fingers. I tried to keep up with them during her long illness, but it seems as though plants turn brown and die when they see me coming.”
He cocked his head and studied her intently. “You have a most unusual manner of speaking, Miss Lloyd. It’s not just because you’re American. There’s something quite peculiar about you.”
Helena flushed. “I’m sorry—“ she began, but he stopped and turned to face her.
“Don’t,” he said, tipping her chin up to force her eyes to meet his. “I’m beginning to find it quite charming.”
Helena wondered if he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Was he about to kiss her? She started to lean forward and then—
A crack of thunder brought them both to their senses. The skies above had turned dark and unfriendly, and Helena felt a drop trick down her nose.
“We’d best find the children,” she said shakily. “It’s likely to rain cats and dogs at any moment.”
James burst into laughter. “Indeed, Miss Lloyd. I shouldn’t want to sully my best coat with animal hair.”
He took her arm and they hastened to collect the children and prepare for the short journey home.
* * *
The heavy rain slapping against the windows did not seem to diminish the girls’ excitement even one iota, thought James as he leaned back against the squabs of the carriage. Mrs. Wykeham had invited them to return in two weeks when her grandchildren were due for a visit before the eldest, a girl around Emily’s age, had to return to school, and she thought they would enjoy becoming acquainted with the Newsome children during their visit. The girls were eager to continue their exploration of the vast castle grounds, and Mrs. Wykeham had said they might visit the new ballroom if the decorations were complete by then. She intended to host a small ball for the local gentry in late summer, and she insisted that James and Helena be among the guests.
James glanced at Helena, who had been suspiciously quiet and withdrawn since their almost-kiss in the Wood Gardens. He knew he should be grateful for the interruption—what was he thinking to allow his physical desires to get the better of him?—but now he found himself wondering what would have happened had the thunder not drawn them apart at the crucial moment. She’d seemed receptive, and he thought he’d seen desire in her intriguing green eyes. How would it feel to touch her lips with his and hold her close in his arms? Run his fingers over the tops of her breasts showing above the lacy bodice of her muted yellow carriage dress? Would she moan with pleasure when he deepened the kiss and ran
his hands through her tawny hair?
Bloody hell! What was he thinking? She was his daughter’s governess, for God’s sake, and a guest of the neighbors, not a tavern wench, there for the taking. Marriage would be the price for having her, and he was certainly not ready to take on a ball and chain. Not after the disaster of his first marriage, and now that he thought on it, there was something about Miss Lloyd that reminded him of Anne. He couldn’t put his finger on it; perhaps it had something to do with his powerful attraction to her.
Still, he was older and wiser now, and he knew better than to be led by his cock. Anne’s death in the prime of her life was his fault, since he’d been unable to make her happy. Should he ever marry again, it would be an arrangement of convenience, with no expectation of love or passion. It certainly would not be with a lady of questionable origins with some mysterious agenda he had yet to discover. Particularly not since his attraction to her made him forget all of his good intentions.
And yet, he couldn't help imagining the feel of her body against him as they waltzed across Mrs. Wykeham’s new ballroom. Would she tremble at his touch as he guided them across the floor? Would her hair smell of lavender or roses when he breathed it in from their close proximity to each other? Would her eyes sparkle with desire when she looked up at him? What would she taste like were he to bend down and touch his lips to hers?
As a result of his inability to control his imaginings, he deliberately avoided her gaze during the return trip, and only gave her a brief nod as she and her charges departed the carriage at Newsome Grange.
But he still found himself missing the lively banter between Miss Lloyd and her charges, even after he'd returned to Melbourne Manor and set himself down at his desk to work on estate matters.
What was it about Helena Lloyd that prevented him from dismissing her from his mind?
8
The days following the trip to Leeds Castle went exceedingly slow for Helena. The schoolroom kept her busy, especially at first as she scrambled to assemble an appropriate curriculum for the girls. She’d never meant to be a teacher; her job as an au pair had been more in the way of an opportunity to travel to London and satisfy the vague urge she had to explore the historical treasures there. And while she adored the three girls in her charge and enjoyed both teaching them and being taught by them about the time period and many, many other things—she still yearned to find Home.
There were times—particularly in her dreams—when the enigmatic man in the portrait she'd left behind seemed to be claiming her for his own. No doubt that was why she felt drawn to the physical James Walker whenever she was near him. But she'd come her to find her home, her origins. Not to find a husband, however attractive. The last thing she wanted to do was to get side-tracked into a love affair. Which is why she was impatient to hear from Lady Pendleton. Would the new governess be arriving soon so that Helena could return to London to continue on her quest? What had Her Ladyship learned about Helena's origins during her absence? Lady Sarah had mentioned her mother going on a jaunt somewhere up north, but there was no indication that it had anything to do with Helena. It was maddening.
Of all the children, it was the motherless Annabelle who had most of all begun to wind her way into Helena’s heart. Not the studious sort, she became restless after too much time in the schoolroom. Helena interspersed lessons with several “recess” periods during the day, where they would explore the grounds and, if it was a very fine day, have lessons outside under a shade tree. When it rained—as it frequently did—they would skip rope or do what Helena hoped was a nineteenth century version of jazzercise on the roofed terrace.
Without the music, of course. In addition to the Internet and all its wonders, Helena missed having music at her fingertips. How incredibly annoying to have to create your own music! If-when she returned to the future, she vowed never to take such things for granted ever again.
Annabelle was eager to please in the classroom, boasting that her father had promised to take her to Astley’s Amphitheatre in London. She looked forward to her father’s visits—he'd been coming to take her riding nearly every morning before breakfast if the weather was fine—and she always returned breathless and laughing, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She didn’t have a mother, poor thing, but it seemed as though her father was making valiant efforts to compensate.
As for his manner toward Helena, he seemed to be avoiding her, his greeting limited to curt nods when their paths crossed. She tried not to be disappointed—hadn’t she decided against a romance with him, after all? But it was lowering to realize that he’d come to the same conclusion, even without knowing her secret.
As far as day-to-day living was concerned, Helena found herself adjusting fairly quickly to the nineteenth century lifestyle. The short corset she wore in the country wasn’t much more confining than an underwire bra, and while she toyed with the idea of requesting to have a shower installed instead of the huge tin tub, she was pretty sure such a request from a governess would be considered presumptuous. And what she wouldn’t give for a hair dryer! Still, she had Izzy to help her dry her hair in front of the fireplace, and Izzy was a nifty hair stylist too, so she found little to complain about. While she couldn’t say for sure that she’d want to remain in that time period, she didn’t feel the future pulling her back either. Her life was just so terribly uncertain.
She dined each evening with Sir Henry and Lady Sarah in the dining room while the children ate in the nursery with Leah and Fanny, the nursery maids. Occasionally Sir Henry would remain a while longer after dinner to smoke his cheroot and drink port while the ladies adjourned to the drawing room, but more often he would accompany them. The Newsomes were an affectionate couple, Helena was glad to see. They smiled into each other’s eyes a great deal, and greeted each other with warm touches and embraces. One evening after dinner while Sir Henry lounged in the dining room, Helena asked to hear their story.
Lady Sarah smiled and sighed deeply as she reminisced. “It was my first Season, and I’d been to balls and routs and musical evenings, all teeming with eligible young men, but I couldn’t see myself married to any of them. They were either too young and immature or had rakish reputations or drank too much. I was the youngest of Mama’s daughters; I knew she was eager to see me wed, but to her credit, she never tried to push me into accepting one of them.”
“Was Lady P’s marriage to your father a love match?” Helena asked.
Lady Sarah laughed. “I’m not sure what it was in the beginning, but by the time I made my appearance, they had definitely become devoted to each other. They were very different, of course. My father came from a long line of Tories and my mother was a secret Whig—she was a friend of the Cavendishes, you know; she often attended the salons at Devonshire House. Papa pretended he didn’t know, but he wasn’t the tyrannical sort who would forbid her to do anything, so I think it served him well to allow her to follow her own conscience in such matters.”
She lowered her eyes and swallowed. “I think it was his death that led her to Madame Herne’s shop. Papa was gone and we were all married and out of the house as well, and although we begged her to come stay with us, she felt so alone after that. I do worry when she dabbles in this time travel business—what if she finds herself unable to return?—but Mama does what she wishes. Always has and always will, I expect.”
She darted a look at Helena. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean—that is, I know you are a time traveler as well—“
Helena grinned. “Don’t apologize. I’m sure I would feel the same way in your place. I wouldn’t be here myself were it not for the infamous Madame Herne. Of course, I adore your mother; I don’t know what I should have done without her, arriving as I did, inappropriately dressed, with no money and very little practical knowledge of this era.”
Lady Sarah pursed her lips in thought. “This era? It seems odd to think of it that way, and yet I can understand that is the way you must think of it—and of us, living in this time.” She shook her h
ead. “In all frankness, I must admit to a certain fascination with the idea of traveling back and forth in time. Imagine meeting Henry VIII or Julius Caesar—“
“What is this?” boomed Sir Henry as he strode through the door. “Surely you couldn’t be thinking of leaving me, my love? Certainly not for a pair of philandering—dead—monarchs!”
He clasped his lady’s hands in his and looked down at her with warm affection. “I shan’t let them have you, not for the richest treasure—not even for the beauteous Cleopatra!”
He pulled her out of her chair and kissed her soundly. Helena watched, fascinated. Sir Henry knew his wife would never leave him. They loved each other as no other couple Helena had ever seen. Perhaps love matches weren’t as uncommon as she’d been led to believe.
“I was just telling Miss Lloyd about our courtship,” Lady Sarah said, as she sat next to her husband on a nearby settee, their hands still firmly clasped together. Her cheeks were flushed, Helena noted.
“Oh? Did you tell her I rescued you from that boring old duke who kept treading on your feet on the dance floor?”
She swatted at him playfully. “The Duke of Haverhill is no older than you, and a great deal richer besides!”
“You weren’t the sort of girl who would settle for mere riches—even with a coronet in the picture. I knew that at once—just as I knew you were the one for me when I first saw you staring at me from your box at the opera.”
She snorted. “Fiddlesticks! It was you staring at me, and you know it!"
He cocked his head and looked at her fondly. “Upon reflection, I would say the attraction was mutual, was it not, my love?”
