A Home for Helena (The Lady P Chronicles Book 2)

by Susana Ellis

  Lady P shrugged and picked up a plate. "Here and there," she said serenely. "I'm famished. Aren't you?"

  Helena crossed her arms and glared at her, while James frowned fiercely.

  Lady Pendleton chuckled. It was actually more like a chortle. “Oh dear, it isn't at all kind to tease you. I do have some news that will be of interest to you, Helena. The Cranbournes are in Town, staying at Grillon’s. I’ve been to see them. They are eager to meet you. I invited them to luncheon, but I believe they may be here sooner than that. I thought perhaps a something light—some turtle soup and cold chicken, do you think?—and then your mother and I might accompany you to Mme Fouchier’s to see about the wedding dress. There will be a wedding, won't there?"

  "Of course there will," said James as he rushed to support Helena, who was looking unusually pale.

  “What did you say?” Helena asked hoarsely.

  “The Cranbournes will be here for luncheon today,” Lady P said patiently. “They are already acquainted with James, of course, so I'm sure you'll have no trouble gaining their approval, once they've had a chance to reconcile with their daughter."

  James swallowed. "Er-yes. Of course. I know them well. I was at Grillon's with Stephen Gibson but two nights ago."

  Lady P gave him a knowing look. "Indeed. I heard about that. Explains the state you were in when you arrived yesterday."

  Helena was trembling so violently that she couldn't remain standing. James picked her up easily in his arms and settled her on the nearest chair, whereupon he pulled up another one and enfolded her into his arms.

  "Hot coffee," ordered Lady P. "And some whiskey, Peters. Miss Lloyd-er-Gibson has had a shock."

  "How will they know it's me?" Helena burst out. "There's no DNA testing here. Will they not always wonder if I'm an imposter? How can I prove to them I'm their daughter?"

  James cupped her face in his hands and gave her a direct look.

  “Hush, love. Cranbourne and his wife are quite good people. I can't fathom them rejecting you. But if they do,” he said, his breath tickling her ear, “we’ll manage. You’re not alone any longer. You have Annabelle and me. We’ll never desert you, Helena. We are your home now. Do you believe me?"

  Helena drew a deep breath. "Oh James! As long as I have you, I can face anything."

  He kissed the top of her head. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together, my love."

  18

  Lady Pendleton's Townhouse

  42 Grosvenor Square

  London

  11:00 in the morning

  Helena was absent-mindedly pushing her eggs around on her plate when there was a sudden commotion in the hallway. Could it be the Cranbournes? She froze, unable to think. What did one do when one was about to meet one's parents for the first time—or least the first time in waking memory.

  Even so, she couldn't stop herself from going to the door, where she saw Izzy Peters parading down the hall with a handful of footmen carrying trunks.

  “Well, look at you,” Izzy said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “An earl’s daughter, indeed! And engaged ta Mr. Walker too! Congratulations," she said, addressing James as he strolled up to them, catching Helena at the waist with his arm.

  "Thank you, Izzy. We hope you will be there to witness it."

  Helena hugged her. “Leave it to you, Izzy, to discover the latest scuttlebutt the instant you step over the threshold!”

  Izzy extricated herself and curtseyed very prettily. “My felicitations, Lady Helena!” she said with exaggerated deference.

  “Oh, do get up, Izzy, and get to work unpacking all my gowns. Lady Helena, indeed! I’m still the same old Helena Lloyd. Or whatever. And I'm scared to death about meeting my parents for the first time. What shall I wear? I'm so glad you're here—you are so good with my hair and I don't want them to think I'm a slob."

  Izzy grinned. "It's that glad I am ta hear your peculiar manner of speech, my lady. Keeps me thinkin', that's fer certain."

  James winked at the maid. "Well, I'll leave you two ladies alone to get on with your preparations. I have some of my own to see to."

  He kissed Helena briefly on the lips and departed.

  Izzy whistled. "You have yourself quite a catch there, Miss Lloyd. Or Lady Helena. Miss Annabelle to have a mother too. So much ta look forward to!"

  After instructing the footmen on where to place the trunks, Izzy took one look at the uneaten food on Helena's plate and insisted that Helena eat.

  “You need your strength,” she insisted. “We can’t have you falling into a swoon, you know.”

  Helena ate. Izzy’s presence was just what she needed to calm her fears.

  Later, as they sorted through trunks and tossed gowns and undergarments all over Helena's room, they finally settled on the apple-green morning dress with the gold buttons down the front, à la militaire, with green satin ribbons in her hair, which fell down to her shoulders in waves of gold and flame.

  “You even look like an earl’s daughter,” pronounced Izzy, as she made the final touches to Helena's coiffure. “I don't know why I never guessed before.”

  Helena laughed. “Just what does an earl’s daughter look like? My blood is just as red as yours, you know. My father probably had an ancestress whose husband was awarded an earldom for allowing her to service the king. Or something equally scandalous."

  Izzy’s mouth fell open, and then she chuckled. “The earl and countess have a surprise coming to them, I reckon.”

  Indeed they did.

  At that moment there was more commotion from the foyer, and Helena took a deep breath and looked at Izzy in the mirror.

  “Is it them, do you think? Do I look all right? Oh!"

  She straightened her spine.

  You've been waiting for this moment all your life. Go! One step in front of the other.

  "I’m ready, Izzy.”

  The first person she saw at the bottom of the stairs was James, who was assisting a woman out of her light green pelisse. Helena stood frozen at the top of the stairs as the woman turned around and handed her bonnet to the butler, revealing an attractive woman with flaming red hair lightly streaked with gray.

  Helena must have squealed or made some noise to alert them of her presence, because suddenly all eyes were on her.

  “Helena?”

  Helena waited breathlessly as a middle-aged gentleman, tall and spare with silver gray hair and light green eyes just like hers, moved slowly up the stairs.

  "May I have the pleasure of escorting you downstairs, Daughter?"

  Joyful tears gathered in Helena’s eyes.

  When he reached her side, he stood and looked intently at her face for a brief moment, and then took her in his arms and embraced her.

  “I knew you would be a beauty,” he managed, his voice shaky.

  “Father?"

  Finally he released her and offered her his arm, smiling broadly. “Come and meet your mother.”

  By this time, they were all crying happy tears, even James, who was standing back to observe the family reunion.

  “Oh my goodness! She has your eyes, William. Oh, my sweet girl! Is it really you, home where you belong after all these years?”

  Hearing the tremor in Lady Cranbourne’s voice, James moved quickly to lend his arm. Helena gave him a tremulous smile of thanks, and then she was enveloped in her mother’s arms.

  “Helena, my child! I can’t believe you’ve returned. We thought you must be surely dead, and here you are!”

  Lady Pendleton appeared in the hallway, her face beaming with pride and joy. “A rapturous moment, indeed!” she said, fanning her face with her hand. “I am quite overset. Let us adjourn to the drawing room and compose ourselves, shall we?”

  Mrs. Peters appeared behind her, and that’s when Helena realized that servants were hanging out of doorways to watch the tender reunion.

  “Shall I order tea, Your Ladyship?”

  “Yes, yes, that would be quite welcome, Peters. Some lemon cakes, if the
y are ready. And some champagne too, if you please.”

  She looked around the room. “I don’t believe it’s too early for champagne, do you?”

  “Certainly not,” chimed in Lord Cranbourne, as he and his wife escorted Helena into the drawing room. “We have much to celebrate. The return of our long-lost daughter”—he smiled down at Helena—“and her engagement to this worthy gentleman here,” he added, smiling at James.

  His wife winced. “William, dear, we’ve only just got our daughter back. Must we lose her again so soon? Kent is miles from Derbyshire.”

  Helena sent a pained look back toward James as they entered the room, and he smiled and blew her a kiss. Once settled in the elaborate drawing room, James aired his suggestion about spending time in Derbyshire following the wedding, which must be accomplished in no more than a month.

  “Four weeks, no more,” he demanded. “The ladies can use that time to see to wedding arrangements—I’m sure Annabelle will be eager to assist you, by the way—and I’ll be around to serve as escort or errand-boy when I’m not required in Kent for the harvest.”

  “And I shall have a granddaughter too. Dear Annabelle!” said the countess, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.

  The butler appeared with the champagne and glasses.

  “A toast to Lady Helena,” said James as he raised his glass, “for finally making her way back home to us.”

  “Here, here!” chimed in her father.

  “And to those who made it possible,” Helena added, mentioning Lady Pendleton, Madame Herne, and Mrs. Lloyd, who had been her mother at a crucial time in her life.

  While Peters collected the empty glasses, Lady Pendleton leaned forward.

  “The second October would be an ideal day for the wedding, don’t you agree? I took the liberty of inquiring at St. George’s, and there’s nothing scheduled for that day. I’ve always thought Wednesday to be the perfect day for a wedding. Of course, Friday is open as well, but I told my friend the bishop when I bespoke the church—"

  Lady Cranbourne’s chin came up. “You already bespoke it? Before mentioning it to me? I suppose you have already chosen the design for the wedding gown as well.”

  Helena broke in. “Of course she has not, Mama,” she said with a warning glance at Lady Pendleton. “You and I will choose one together. I’m sure Her Ladyship was just trying to be helpful.”

  “I like the sound of the second October as well, my dear Mariah,” said Lord Cranbourne. “What say you, Walker?”

  “I like it well,” said James. “But whatever the ladies decide upon is fine with me, provided it's not a day later. Mrs. Walker will be much needed at Melbourne Manor.”

  Helena smiled her thanks to James.

  Mollified, her mother assented. “I do like St. George’s for the wedding. That’s where William and I were married, you know.”

  Helena felt heat radiating from her chest as the two older ladies became engrossed in discussing the wedding details. Along with family came disputes and complications, she knew, and she accepted it—welcomed it—all. She had a home. A place where she belonged. A mother and father. Aunts and uncles and cousins. A husband and daughter, she thought, smiling joyfully at James.

  What more could a modern girl want?

  Thanks for reading!

  If you enjoyed A Home for Helena, please help other readers find it too. Consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book.

  About the Author

  Susana Ellis has always had stories in her head waiting to come out, especially when she learned to read and her imagination began to soar.

  A former teacher, Susana lives in Toledo, Ohio in the summer and Florida in the winter. She is a member of the Central Florida Romance Writers and the Beau Monde chapters of RWA and Maumee Valley Romance Inc.

  Susana loves to chat with readers!

  @SusanaAuthor

  www.SusanaEllis.com

  www.SusanaEllis.com

  Also by Susana Ellis

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  Rebecca’s older sisters took the ton by storm while she herself has failed to attract a suitor in four Seasons. Miles is pondering his urgent need for a wife when Rebecca lands in his lap in the nave of Bath Abbey. A match between them seems ordained by the heavens… except for the little matter of his past history with her sisters.

  Originally published in Sweet Summer Kisses

  Lost and Found Lady

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  Treasuring Theresa

  She's a country lady. He's a London swell. They have nothing in common. Or have they?

  Treasuring Theresa was a finalist in the 2013 EPIC Awards.

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  A Twelfth Night Tale

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  The Ultimate Escape

  21 November 1812

  Pendleton Townhouse

  42 Grosvenor Square

  London

  I always believed my parents’ marriage was a love match, although Mama never said so, and Papa wasn’t the type to make such emotional declarations, at least not while we were around. He was a gruff man and rarely smiled, but his feelings showed in his eyes by the way they followed her around whenever they were together and how often he touched her hands or shoulder. Nor did I ever see him turn her away when she embraced him or kissed him on the lips, which she was wont to do. And three years ago after he left his earthly shell, my sisters and I thought Mama wouldn’t last out the year. She did, though, but she was never truly happy after that. She always seemed to be searching for something to give her life meaning.

  But they did have their quarrels. Papa’s family were Tories, and Mama, when she found the time, secretly associated with the scandalous Devonshire set. He always pretended not to know, but now that I’m older, I feel pretty certain he did. He knew Mama wasn’t the sort of woman to be dictated to, but he couldn’t openly condone it either. For the most part, he trusted her to be discreet.

  Except that one time. When I was thirteen, they had a dreadful row that went on for days, and then one day, my mother was gone. Papa put it around that she had gone to the country to recover from an illness, but we knew she hadn’t. He was beside himself with worry, interrogating us and all over her closest friends, even to the point of calling on the Duchess of Devonshire, Lady Bessborough, Lady Holland, and Lady Melbourne (Mama’s Whig friends who, I later discovered, my father detested), in an attempt to discover her whereabouts. All to no avail. Finally, he just shut himself up in his study and refused to allow anyone inside except servants and numerous bottles of spirits.

  A fortnight later, Mama returned and hugged us all, promising she would never leave us again, and she and Papa went upstairs to their rooms and resolved their differences. They were happier after that, but neither could be induced to tell us anything about their quarrel or where she had been during that time.

  It wasn’t until two years later that I discovered her journal and learned the truth, shocking and unbelievable though it is. During those two weeks, Mama wrote that she had escaped two hundred years into the future to the twentieth century!

  When confronted with the journal, she admitted it was true. Apparently, the newly-married William Wilberforce had acquainted Papa with the facts about Mama’s dealings with the immoral Devonsh
ire set—nearly all of whom had children by other men than their husbands—and told him he’d best get his household in order before he, too, became a laughingstock. Papa had been so humiliated that he’d come home in a fit of temper and demanded that Mama cease all of her political activities and content herself with her role as wife and mother. When she refused—and he had to know she would—he threatened to banish her to the country until she agreed.

  They quarreled for several days, and then one day she walked off and didn’t come back. In her diary, she wrote that she had found herself in an odd little shop on Gracechurch Street where a gypsy lady told fortunes and such. Mama confided in her, saying that she didn’t want to face anyone she knew until she had had a chance to consider her options and resolve what to do about her marriage.. The gypsy, who goes by the name of Madame Herne, offered to send her away into the future for a time, and Mama was desperate enough to accept, after being reassured that she could return when she wished to.

  She never would tell me what happened during those two weeks, and she burned the journal after I confronted her with it so that nobody else would read it. Nor do I know what she told Papa. But he never questioned her behavior again, and I believe their marriage was stronger afterward. She had a locked drawer in her desk that she only opened when she was alone, and when we were ill she used to bring us smooth white pellets instead of the usual willow bark tea, and she adamantly refused to allow us to be bled for any reason. I once caught a glimpse of her in some scandalous nightrail that made Papa’s eyes light up when he saw her in it, and she later confessed that she had got it from some shop in the future called “Victoria’s Secret.”

  She didn’t leave us again until after Papa’s death, and before she did, she made sure to tell my sisters and me beforehand. Philippa and Sarah didn’t believe her at first, and I think they are still a bit skeptical and disapproving, but they are both happily married society matrons now and can’t imagine why anyone would want to travel in time. I, on the other hand, have always been fascinated by the idea.