by Susana Ellis
She looked at him with stars in her eyes. “It was,” she admitted. Then she started, as if recalling Helena’s presence in the room. “I just knew he was the one for me, although my mother wasn’t so sure. I rather think she liked the idea of having a duke for a son-in-law. But when she saw the way it was for us… she gave up that dream and replaced it with the challenge of planning the wedding of the century.”
Sir Henry shook his head. “But she made it very clear to me that I should make her daughter happy or else regret it the rest of my days.” He shrugged helplessly at Helena. “My mother-in-law may not appear to be a formidable woman, but I had no doubt then—nor do I now—that she would follow through on such a threat, were I to disappoint her daughter.”
“What luck that you live to make me happy!” teased his wife. “Otherwise keeping such a pledge would prove to be a dreadful bore.”
Helena could see that the two of them needed to be alone, so she excused herself and went to bed. It was hard not to be envious of the relationship shared by her employers. She’d never seen anything like it, not in all the foster homes she’d inhabited, and certainly not with Mrs. Lloyd, who had always been content with her lot as a widow and single mother. To find it in 1817, before women’s rights, when women were legally the property of men just seemed extraordinary to her.
Would she ever find a soul mate of her own? The image of James Walker’s face flickered through her mind, and she kept trying to force it out until finally sleep claimed her.
* * *
August 9, 1817
Leeds Castle
Maidstone
Kent
For the umpteenth time, James frowned and wondered why he had decided to accompany Miss Lloyd and the children to Leeds Castle to meet Mrs. Wykeham’s grandchildren. While he considered begging off, a second invitation had arrived, this time for the Summer’s End Ball Mrs. Wykeham was hosting to celebrate the progress of the completion of the renovations to the castle. He could not refuse the second without offending his good friend and neighbor, and in the end, he’d made a rash decision to accept them both and prove to himself that he was immune to the charms of the tempting and enigmatic Miss Lloyd.
But from his first glimpse of her in her lime green carriage dress with the printed yellow pelisse and matching bonnet, he realized he’d been deceiving himself. To make matters worse, she and Annabelle seemed to have developed a special bond. It wasn’t a complete surprise to him, since Annabelle talked non-stop about Miss Lloyd when he met her for their morning rides, but seeing them together confirmed his suspicion. It wasn’t as though Miss Lloyd showed Annabelle any favoritism—she laughed and chatted with the other girls in her charge as well—but it was the way Annabelle sought her hand first of any but his own, and the warmth in their eyes as they smiled at each other. While he liked to see his daughter happy, he wasn’t sure he approved of her partiality to this woman who haunted his dreams. It was almost like fate was setting things in motion for him that he wasn't ready for. In any case, this woman had secrets.
For one thing, she wasn't like any governess he knew, not with the stylish clothes or the playful tone she employed with the children. A governess was supposed to be stern and disciplined and wear somber clothing in keeping with her position. Of course, Miss Lloyd was American, but he suspected that American governesses weren't much different from English ones. In any case, the fact that Miss Lloyd's numerous eccentricities were constantly blamed on her nationality was in itself suspicious. However, he couldn't conceive of any reason for the deception. A spy would surely try to keep a low profile, wouldn't she? He stifled a grin at the improbability of Miss Lloyd being a spy. He'd noticed she had a tendency to blurt things out that she later regretted.
The other concern he had was that Miss Lloyd's position was only temporary. He didn't like the idea of Annabelle's heart being broken when the time came for her to leave. Not so soon after Miss Dray. Why was Lady Pendleton taking so long to replace her? Peculiar in her ways she might be, but he knew from Sir Henry that she was fiercely devoted to her grandchildren. What could she possibly be doing to cause the delay in employing a governess?
He pulled at his collar. He was supposed to be seeking a governess himself and he had done nothing. Annabelle's stopover with the Newsomes was not meant to be permanent, after all. Even though he saw her nearly every day, he wanted her home. But he'd been busy with estate matters, and seeing how well she was doing there, he'd let the stack of letters from prospective governesses accumulate on his desk. Yes, that had to be the reason. It certainly could not have anything to do with a reluctance to end his frequent meetings with Miss Lloyd, which continued no matter how often he tried to keep his distance from her.
The children were bubbling over with enthusiasm for visiting the castle again and the potential of meeting new playmates. Mrs. Wykeham had tea set for the children on the terrace while the adults—which included her husband and daughter Eliza and son-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Philip Thomas Wykeham (a distant cousin), as well as James and Miss Lloyd—were settled into the formal drawing room.
The younger Wykehams were a somber pair, dressed conservatively, she in unembellished gray and he in black. Their very presence seemed to dampen the spirits of the senior Wykehams, who said very little except to agree with most of the young Mrs. Wykeham’s opinions.
And she had plenty of them. She was quite clearly a devotee of the late Hannah More and William Wilberforce, and she was not shy about castigating her parents for expending a fortune in renovating the castle when the funds could have done much good to evangelize the common people.
“My husband and I,” she boasted, “have founded Bible schools for the children of the poor in Hertfordshire, all with our own meager income. Just think of what might have been done with the fortune you are squandering on this pile of rocks, Papa!”
Her father cleared his throat. “Eliza, dear, it is a part of our heritage.”
James was about to agree when Miss Lloyd broke in first.
“Indeed it is, Mr. Wykeham. The castle is a fine example of England’s past, and I have no doubt that future generations will commend you for the work you have done to bring it back to its former glory.”
Wykeham’s somber daughter glared at Miss Lloyd and opened her mouth, but James got in ahead of her.
“As one of your neighbors, Mr. Wykeham, I must agree with Miss Lloyd that the restoration of Leeds Castle bodes well for the general prosperity of the county. I’ve been told that the popularity of Chatsworth by tourists has been a boon for the communities surrounding it—the inn at Beeley has had to expand to make room for them, and likely other establishments along the road from London have flourished as well.”
Mrs. Wykeham crossed her arms. “What I am speaking of is spiritual food, Mr. Walker. The Son of God said ‘And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.’ Our Bible schools feed souls. Ours is the higher calling, since we rescue sinners from the depths of hell.”
Miss Lloyd opened her mouth, but closed it when James shook his head in warning and rose from his chair. “I believe it is past time for Miss Lloyd to see to the children. Miss Lloyd?” And he held out his arm to her. She reluctantly accepted, and as soon as they were out of earshot, hissed at him. “Why did you do that? That woman is an appalling hypocrite!”
“She is,” James agreed, “but there are many who share her beliefs among the middle class, and it is pointless to argue. The elder Mr. and Mrs. Wykeham are my good friends and allies, and I could not allow them to be humiliated any further.”
Miss Lloyd sighed deeply. “You’re right. I’m sorry. There are people like that even in my-er-country. Normally I can keep my mouth shut, but this woman just got my goat—infuriated me!”
What was that about a goat? James was about to comment when they heard loud wailing from a nearby room.
“Ye can’t tell the missus! She’ll sack me fer sure, and
then what’ll I do? Me pa got hurt ’n can’t work no more. All we got to live on is my wages.”
“Do you really think you kin hide your shame much longer, girl? Yer gown is ready ta burst at the seams. Mrs. Wykeham can’t have an unwed girl expectin’ a child on her staff!”
“It’s her Charles thet did it to me. I swear I’m a decent girl! He caught me polishin’ the lamps in his bedchamber and wouldn’t let me go. Said I was a servant and had ta do what he said or he’d have me sacked. You know how his ma dotes on him!”
“Which is precisely why she’ll have ye out on your arse the minute she finds out.”
The girl moaned. “But what’ll I do? We’ll be starvin’ as it is, even without another mouth ta feed!”
The other voice gave an ugly laugh. “Same thing my aunt did when it happened ta her not three years ago: got took in at the workhouse, where she is ta this day. Babe died there.”
Miss Lloyd’s mouth flew open, and James put a firm hand to her back and propelled her away from the unpleasant scene, until he found an unoccupied room—another drawing room, he guessed—and drew her inside, closing the door behind them.
“But James—Mr. Walker—we can’t just let that poor girl and her baby go to the workhouse! Surely there is something we can do to help them! You don’t think Mrs. Wykeham will really dismiss her, do you? Not if her own son is to blame!” She glanced around. “Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him here.”
James frowned. “His father told me he was in Oxford being tutored for entrance to the university in the autumn. His older brother Richard is in Divinity School there.”
Helena—Miss Lloyd—wrinkled her nose. “Another hypocritical offspring? How did such a pleasant couple end up with three such abominable children?”
Women are so emotional.
“Now, now, Miss Lloyd. You mustn’t rush to judgment. I’ve known Richard for years, and he is a fine young man, quite genial and sincere about his desire to become a clergyman.”
Helena fell into a nearby chair. “I’m sorry. After meeting the daughter—and hearing about Charles—I suppose I let my feelings get the better of me.”
He settled into the chair opposite. “I shouldn’t rush to judge Charles either,” he said mildly. “We’ve only heard the girl’s side of the story, and it may have been she who lured him, hoping perhaps to extort money from the Wykehams.”
“What do you mean—she might have lured him? Does that absolve him of the responsibility?” Her nostrils flared as her eyes threw green sparks at him.
James rolled his eyes. “Oh come now, Miss Lloyd. Charles is a youth of fifteen or sixteen, and you know how young men are at that age.”
“Oh!” she cried, rising from her seat and pacing the floor, fists clenched. “What a male chauvinist pig you are! Do you really mean to excuse the boy’s actions and allow the girl to bear all the blame? That is such an antiquated point of view!” And then she stopped as if remembering something, and dropped her hands to her side. “Of course you do. It’s the nineteenth century, after all.”
“Of course I do not excuse him—" began James, wondering what a “male chauvinist pig” could possibly mean in the King’s English. Really, Miss Lloyd’s speech was decidedly odd at times. All this talk of goats and pigs?
“Look, James-er-Mr. Walker, what if it were Annabelle? Would you be so calm and collected in that case?”
James drew in slow, steady breaths. He could feel heat rising throughout his body.
“Enough, Miss Lloyd!”
Appearing stunned by the force of his interjection, she steadied herself on the back of a nearby chair and stared at him incredulously.
“You will not speak so carelessly of my daughter again,” he ordered. “As my daughter, she will be appropriately chaperoned at all times, thus making it impossible for such a thing to occur.”
Seeing the scowl that crossed her face, he softened his tone.
“Your point is well taken, Miss Lloyd. It is unfortunate that such things happen to unprotected girls. If she were in my employ, I would seek to find her a husband and allow her to remain in her position.”
“So you will do nothing to help this poor girl?”
Despite the quiet tone, he could see that she was furious. He wanted to shake some sense into her, but for some reason, her words seemed to be ringing true. Worse, he was even beginning to admire her compassion. Why, Anne would have tossed the girl out without a single qualm, as would most of the ladies he knew. Why did Miss Lloyd—Helena, as he had begun to think of her—concern herself with a lowly servant?
He pursed his lips. “I shall do nothing, for the present.” Seeing her chin lift, he stretched out his hands in protest. “A moment, Miss Lloyd. I am not a heartless monster, and nor are the Wykehams. Let us hold off for the time being and allow them to deal with this situation.”
“And if they send her away?”
He shook his head. “If that happens, I’ll find some way to help her,” he promised. “Discreetly. I shouldn’t wish to offend my friends, of course.”
Helena’s lips parted and then drew into a slow smile. “Really?”
Her mouth fascinated him. He had a sudden image of drawing her close and tasting it, as he almost had once before. Would she welcome him or give him the slap he deserved? She was so beautiful and so unlike any other woman he had ever met. His mind wandered. If she were a follower of Mary Wollstonecraft and her scandalous declarations, she might be open to a slip on the shoulder…
He was instantly ashamed of his wayward thoughts. Freethinking or not, she was a guest of the Newsomes and somewhat of a servant herself. As such, she was completely off-limits to him. He'd be no better than the hapless Charles Wykeham if he were to make dishonorable advances to her. And heaven forbid he would ever marry such a harridan! Should he ever fall into the parson's mousetrap again, it would be with a young and biddable woman who would not challenge his authority.
For some reason, he couldn't work up any enthusiasm for such a marriage, and determined instead that once he returned home he would tackle that pile of letters from potential governesses. He’d be sure to hire one who wore weeds and didn’t smile until Christmas and certainly did not inspire lustful thoughts in her employer’s imagination.
* * *
Leeds Castle
Maidstone
Kent
A week later
The Castle was lit up like a birthday cake, Helena thought as the Newsomes’ carriage crossed the bridge leading to the island fortress. She felt a bit like Cinderella, dressed in her finest ball gown, an ivory taffeta overdress opening in the front to reveal an underdress of fine Brussels lace. The puff sleeves, neckline and high waist were trimmed with white ribbon embroidered with delicate gold flowers, and a simple pearl necklace and matching earrings completed her ensemble. Izzy had swept her red-gold hair into a mass of curls held together with more of the embroidered ribbon, the ends of which trailed over her shoulder, lightly dusting her neck. She wriggled her toes in her ivory satin slippers and wondered how anyone could possibly dance more than a handful of dances in such flimsy shoes. At least they didn't have four-inch heels.
Images of herself twirling about the ballroom in the arms of James Walker flashed through her mind. Would he ask her to dance? She yearned to feel his arms around her and look into his warm brown eyes, melting with desire for her.
Blinking rapidly, she reined in her wayward thoughts. She was certainly not Cinderella, and she wasn’t here to find Prince Charming. Just because his tantalizing eyes had haunted her thoughts for weeks didn’t mean he was her soul mate. In high school she’d sighed over hunky basketball phenom Morgan Bailey for months, and when he’d finally asked her out, he’d turned out to be a conceited jerk who only wanted to add her to his list of conquests. The spell broken, she’d slammed the car door and left him to gaze at the romantic view of the lake at midnight all by his lonesome. She'd had a few long-term boyfriends in college, but they'd all petered out in the end,
leaving her with more relief than heartbreak. Soul mates? She didn’t believe in them.
“Henry, my dear, the Hills are here,” Lady Sarah noted, with an anxious glance at Helena. “With Marcus in tow.”
Sir Henry frowned. “Then he’d best spend his time making up to his fiancée and not chasing after Miss Lloyd. Edwin Hill is not the sort to stand for his daughter being humiliated.” Giving Helena a sideways glance. “If he should request a dance, my dear, you must deny him. Tell him your dance card is full or some such thing, but I won’t have my son making a fool of himself in public.”
“Oh no, she can’t do that!” protested his wife. “Such rudeness would reflect badly on her.”
Sir Henry grinned. “Then we shall take care to see that her dance card truly is full. Give it to me, Miss Lloyd, and I’ll take up two spots right now.”
Lady Sarah shook her head. “One will do, my love. Miss Lloyd must leave room for some of the eligible gentlemen who will surely wish to engage her.”
Sir Henry scrawled his name next to a waltz and sat back to look at Helena. “What say you, Miss Lloyd? Might you be interested in meeting an eligible gentleman?”
Helena shifted in her seat. “For a dance, perhaps, but that is all.” She smiled wryly at his wife. “I appreciate your concern, but I didn’t come here to find a husband. Things are different where I come from. Women have other choices besides marriage and motherhood. We have—careers.”
Sir Henry rolled his eyes. She knew from previous discussions that he strongly disapproved of women working for a living. Which wasn't surprising, really, since there were still some in the twenty-first century who thought a woman's place was in the home. Not to mention the fact that even men working for a living was frowned upon. For gentlemen at least.
“You—had a career, Miss Lloyd?” asked Lady Sarah with interest.
Helena cleared her throat. “I have an advanced degree in history,” she confessed. “I came to London to look for a position, but I needed money in the meantime, so I applied for a position as an au pair. A nanny,” she explained.
