by Joan Smith
“Caramba, I am mad with annoyance. That is all.” She snatched up her cloak and left.
There was little conversation as the carriage wended its way to Belgrave Square. “I have a wretched headache,” Helena announced as soon as they were inside the house.
“These headaches are becoming more frequent,” Severn said suspiciously. “You ought to see a doctor, Cousin.”
She glared. “I shall require some more funds tomorrow, Severn,” she said coolly. “I have written a check for that hundred pounds you put in my account last week.”
“Already? What did you buy?” he demanded.
She looked down her little nose and said, “I do not have to account to you for my purchases. Pray arrange for some more money. I require it immediately.”
“You’ve run through your allowance. I would have to sell some consols.”
“Then do it.”
“You have been spending a great deal of money,” he said. “Of course, you have had your gowns and a carriage.... It seems a shame to dip into your capital.”
“Money is for spending, is it not?”
“That is its ultimate use, certainly, but ... You could sell your tilbury and use Mama’s carriage,” he suggested.
She sneered. “Too kind, but I do not wish to be at the mercy of someone else when I want an outing.”
“Just where do you go on these outings?” he asked. Worry lent a touch of asperity to his tone. “I know Marion has not been accompanying you much recently.”
“I call on friends,” she replied vaguely.
“Have you loaned Malvern money?” he asked.
“Certainly not.”
“It would not surprise me if he tried to borrow from you.”
“You misunderstand the matter, sir. It is only you who takes such a keen interest in my fortune.”
“One of us has to, when it is obvious you have no notion of management.” He heard the echo of his father in that speech and regretted it. He knew how demeaning such scolds were.
“That need not concern you, milord.” On this challenging speech she turned and whisked upstairs.
In her unhappiness and confusion, she was beginning to toy with the idea of returning to Spain. England was the wrong climate for her. The people were too heartless and mercenary. Rutledge, who claimed to love her, would not do this one little thing that she asked. Malvern was marrying Marion for her dot and only trying to convince himself it was love. As to Severn, the man was a walking balance sheet. How dare he suggest she sell her carriage!
His real aim was to keep her interned all day while he went to Whitehall. This one outing he had planned for her pleasure was a sham. It was nothing else but a business trip, whose goal was to soften her up to accept his hateful offer. Just so did Papa ply the sherry buyers with his best sherry, and when they were light-headed with wine, they signed larger orders than they had intended. Of course they got their money’s worth. It was excellent sherry! “Just oiling the wheels” was how her papa explained it.
And Severn was just oiling the wheels for this merger he desired with her fortune. She enjoyed a brief imagining of how he would go about it. They would be driving home from Brighton in the open carriage, tired and sated after a full day. Moonlight would bathe them in a ghostly glow. He would take her hand and say, “Did you enjoy your party, Cousin?”
She would smile and simper, “It was charming, Eduardo.”
“My only thought is to make you happy,” he would say, drawing to a stop in some romantic spot overlooking the water. (Her sense of geography was vague.) Then he would take her in his arms and kiss her as he had kissed her that evening she had danced the jota. A sad smile seized her lips as she remembered that evening. It might very well have worked. It was well she knew why he “loved” her, or she might have found herself shackled for life to an accountant who would not even allow her to keep her own carriage.
But she would not let him have his way. She would not go to Brighton, that’s all. Why should she play into his hands? She would be ill on that day at the last minute, so that Severn could not call it off. It must be no serious ailment, as she meant to be well again for Moira’s wedding party on Wednesday and, of course, her own ball on Friday.
Belowstairs Severn sat alone in his study, prey to his own imaginings. Things were not going as he had hoped at all. He had assumed Helena had heeded his warning and kept away from Malvern. It now seemed possible, indeed likely, that she had been sneaking around corners to meet him. The heartlessness of her, using Marion as a dupe. Of course, she had never liked Marion above half. This talk of reformation and Malvern’s being a great man was troubling. That is what came of allowing ladies too much freedom. He must get rid of her carriage. Selling it without her agreement would bring things to an unpleasant head. No saying what the hothead would do.
He must be more clever than that. He would incapacitate the carriage in some manner. It would be only for a short while. He still hoped, in spite of all, that they would return from Brighton as a formally engaged couple, at which time she would naturally do as he asked. Like Helena, he allowed himself a daydream of that return trip from Brighton. Unlike her, he knew they would not be driving by the sea on their trip north. He had chosen the exact spot where he would make his proposal.
There was an inn just outside of Gatwick, halfway home, where the party would stop for refreshment. He would spring his team and reach it a quarter of an hour before the others joined them. It was during that interval that he meant to whisk out the diamond ring and get it on her finger. During the ensuing daydream, he gave not a thought to confiscating either her fortune or her carriage. Indeed he even regretted that she was so well to grass. He would like to heap unaccustomed pleasures and treasures on her head, to see her smile and say, “Oh, Eduardo!”
He opened his desk drawer to look at the ring. Beside it, nestled in silver paper, sat the lock of her hair he had retrieved from the side table in the saloon. He stroked it, as though it were a talisman, promising luck in his endeavor. He meant to have it mounted somehow in a piece of sentimental jewelry as a keepsake. When those sable curls had silvered, this would remind him of their youth.
Chapter Twenty
After ordering the groom to take Lady Helena’s carriage in for repairs, Severn left for work early on Monday. The first she learned of it was when she called for her tilbury at ten o’clock and was told it was being repaired.
“It was in perfect repair,” she said in confusion.
“His lordship mentioned the wheels needed tightening, and you could use her ladyship’s carriage if you had to go out.”
His lordship! Helena went with nostrils pinched in vexation to ask her godmother if she might take her carriage.
“Certainly, my dear, I never go out before noon. But what is amiss with your own rig? Not had an accident, I hope?”
“Severn decided it needed repairs,” she replied.
“Up to his tricks, is he? His papa used to try such stunts on me to curb my activities. You may be sure Edward suspects you of secret assignations with a gentleman. Really, it is most annoying of him. That is no way to win a lady.”
“I wish you will tell him so. He pays no heed to me.”
“And as he has not offered yet, you would not like to let him know you are onto him, I daresay. It is best to lay down your rules before accepting him; then you can always fling them in his face if he tries to shorten the reins later. I wish someone had given me advice before I married Hadley.”
“It is not too late to lay down some rules now.”
“Ah, well, we have reached a modus vivendi, and it hardly seems worthwhile upsetting things, but I shall enjoy watching you bring Edward to heel, Cousina. You have my blessing—and my carriage. Where are you going?”
“To buy a wedding gift for Moira and Gagehot. The check I gave was really from Papa. He will repay me the money, so there was no need for Severn to rip up at me for spending too much.”
“You did not tell him the r
eason?”
“Certainly not. It is my own business.”
“Much the best way. The less they know, the better. If you are short of funds, I shall be happy to oblige you.”
“I have enough to buy a little something for Moira, but if Severn fails to fill up my account, I may have to apply to you for a loan, Madrina. He was unhappy to sell my consols.”
“I don’t know why gentlemen are always so reluctant to sell consols. Hadley is the same. What good are they? They never increase in value like a stock on the exchange. They just sit there forever, giving you a bare five percent.”
“There is no accounting for it. I shall be home for lunch,” Helena said, and took her leave.
It was Lady Hadley’s groom who drove the carriage and her footmen who accompanied Helena to the shops. After a deal of looking, she settled on a silver epergne. As she would not be seeing Moira again before the wedding, she asked the clerk to wrap it, and she delivered it herself that same morning.
“How lovely!” Moira exclaimed. “You shouldn’t have, dear.”
They talked for ten minutes. Moira showed her guest the gown she had had made up for the wedding. It was an ornate silk affair in pale peach, with more than sufficient lace and ribbons. Helena praised it, declined tea, then rose to leave.
“You’ll be at the wedding, I hope?” Moira asked.
“Certainly.”
“Bring Severn, if you think he would like to come.”
“Thank you, but I shall come alone. Severn is so busy.”
From Moira’s, Helena went straight home. In the afternoon, a few gentlemen dropped in. She was sorry they had left by the time Severn returned, for she wanted to display her popularity. He went directly to his study and called for the footman who had accompanied Helena that morning, to discover her itinerary.
That she had been out shopping when her pockets were to let was annoying but only what he expected of a lady. It was the second stop that piqued his curiosity. “Upper Grosvenor Square? Who the devil could she be visiting there?”
“And delivering a present. I had a look at the cards posted in the lobby.” He had also copied down the names and drew out a slip of paper to read them. When he came to Mrs. Petrel-Jones, Severn held up his hand.
“No need to go further. Thank you, Scallion, you have done well.” He flipped a coin to the delighted footman and went in search of Helena. He found her alone in the library, scanning the journals. In his agitation, he failed to notice it was the schedule of ships leaving London that she was studying. She hastily closed the journal and turned a stiff face to greet him.
“Severn, I should like to know why you sent my carriage off for repairs without telling me when it is virtually new.”
“I asked Sugden to explain. I noticed a loose wheel.”
“When did you notice it? You have not seen it for days.”
“Actually, I had my groom look it over. I made sure Mama’s carriage was available for you, as it seems you cannot pass a single day indoors.”
“Why should I sit twiddling my thumbs all day?”
“There are more useful activities—reading, music....”
She gave an angry snort. “Who can be bothered with that when it is so fine outdoors?”
“Why indeed, when you could be out spending money you don’t have,” he retorted hotly. “And worse, visiting Mrs. Petrel-Jones, taking her gifts.”
“I see you have set your minions to spy on me.”
“I asked you not to associate with that woman.”
“I took note of your request, milord,” she replied with awful courtesy. “I did not choose to oblige you in the matter.”
Her very calmness only served to raise his temper. “By God, you’ll do as I say while you are under my roof.”
“I am under your father’s roof, sir, not under your thumb. If you think to dominate me by such absurd stunts as taking away my carriage, you are very much mistaken.”
“We’ll see how you manage when I take away your money. Those dirty dishes you choose to associate with will find you less attractive when you cannot shower them with gifts. They are only out to fleece you, Helena.”
“You must not judge my friends by your low standards, sir. Not everyone considers money the be-all and end-all.”
“We’ll see about that. I have not sold your consols, and I have no intention of doing so.”
She smiled snidely. “Do you mean to drive me into the hands of the loan sharks, milord? I doubt I would have much trouble raising the wind.”
“I forbid you to go to the cent percenters! Good God, you go from one freakish stunt to another. Have you no sense?”
Her eyes flashed dangerously. “I have sense enough to realize you are a tyrant, sir,” she shot back. “But you will not tyrannize me. And furthermore, I have no intention of going on that stupid picnic to Brighton. You timed it on purpose to exclude Rutledge, after pretending you were arranging it to repay him for Strawberry Hill.”
“I planned it for you, not Rutledge.”
“No, sir, you planned it for yourself, thinking I would be foolish enough to accept an offer from you if you got me into the proper frame of mind. You don’t con me so easily. If you think I am to be had for a picnic, you are very much mistaken.”
Guilt rose to anger, and his reply was sharp. “That is rather previous of you, Cousin, declining an offer that has not been made. What makes you think I would offer for you? You have no sense, no propriety, no gratitude, an extremely disagreeable temperament, and—”
“And an extremely agreeable fortune. I did not mean to imply you cared for me. I know you better than to accuse you of human feelings. The whole world knows what interests you.”
Crushed by her blanket condemnation, Severn found no option but to stiffen up and repeat his first statements. Her carriage was, unfortunately, hors de combat, and also her fortune. This said, he turned on his heel and strode from the room.
Helena angrily reopened the journal at the marine listings. It was patently impossible for her to continue living in this house. She never wanted to see Severn again. England was a bore. She had had a much nicer time in Spain. She took up a pen, dipped it in ink, and underlined one sailing. The Princess Margaret set sail for Spain the day after her ball. She would pay a secret visit to the Admiralty and arrange passage. They often took a few civilians, businessmen and such things. How could she endure the waiting?
She felt tears gathering in her eyes and cast the journal aside to flee to her room. She never cried. She would not let anyone see her in this moment of weakness.
Severn went to his study and poured a glass of claret to steady his shaking hands. His whole mind was in turmoil. What did one do with a female who had obviously been reared with no more care than a cat? The girl was completely out of control.
After a second glass of wine, he decided that sterner measures were called for. What was the point of taking away her carriage and allowing her the freedom of his mama’s? He learned where she had gone after the fact, but that was of no use. Tomorrow Mama’s carriage would be taken to the shop for repairs as well. He would set Sugden to spying on her. If she left the house on foot, he would have her followed. If she ventured within a block of the moneylenders, he would have her pulled away by main force. He was not about to be beaten by a chit of a girl.
He pondered a long while over the projected party to Brighton. He would not, indeed could not, force her to go. As his only reason for undertaking this unpleasant excursion was to indulge her, he had no compunction in canceling it. Important business at Whitehall served as an excuses How did she know he planned to propose? What had he said to tip her the clue? And how had she learned he timed the trip to avoid Rutledge’s attendance? She was too sharp by half. A pity she did not put her wits to better use.
It was unusual for Severn to go out of his way to help anyone. He expected gratitude, not animosity. She was blind to his every effort to help her but could see no fault in these infra dig friends, the like
s of Petrel-Jones and Malvern, who were only using her. He remembered the money falling from the chair at El Cafeto and wondered about it. He remembered she had been fumbling in her reticule. She had been leaving that money for Malvern.
After all his superficial mental ranting, he settled down to the real problem. Helena obviously despised him, and in spite of all, he still wanted to marry her. She would be a wickedly troublesome wife, and just at that period of his life when he was ready to assume the onus of his position. She misjudged him at every turn, imputing faults where virtue lurked. He did not want her money; he just disliked to see her duped. Oh, Lord, how often had he cringed to hear his papa say the same thing? But it was unkind and unjust to accuse him of fortune hunting—and a demmed hard accusation to disprove.
Was it so bad of him to try to cut out Rutledge? All’s fair in love and war, folks said. He walked slowly to the library, mentally rehearsing what he would say. The room was empty. He went in anyway, to be where she had recently been. An echo of her perfume hung in the air. He glanced at the journal, curious to see what had interested her. The marine listings. She had underlined a ship going to Spain, the Princess Margaret. She must be arranging to send those jackets she had had made up for her papa. She spoke highly of Aylesbury. How had she not come to cuffs with him?
No doubt she had him firmly under control, but she would find an English husband less pliable. He was still adamant that she must be tamed before he married her, but he began to wonder if it might not be accomplished by kindness rather than severity. He had never paid any heed to Papa’s lectures. He would not mention the recent argument. He would be kind but firm.
Chapter Twenty-one
Lady Hadley had guests in for dinner that evening. Severn, seated at the head of the table with Helena at his left side, tried in vain to win favor with kindness. She bestowed only the briefest of replies to any comment or query before turning her conversation to her other partner. At the theater after dinner he continued being solicitous, offering to bring her wine at the intermission.
