The Spanish Lady

by Joan Smith

  “Thank you, Severn, but I prefer to stretch my legs.” A smile of pleasure lit his face until she added, “Lord Dufferin has offered to accompany me.” Severn managed a smile as she left, but it was an impatient smile. He was Severn again.

  When they arrived home, Lady Hadley announced she was for the feather tick. “Shall we have a glass of wine before retiring, Cousin?” Severn suggested, ever hopeful.

  “You go ahead. I shall go upstairs with Madrina.” She would have added an insult had his mama not been with them.

  A strange lethargy came over Helena the next day. Despite the sunlight streaming in at the window, she did not ask about the availability of a carriage. Her unhappy thoughts were already halfway to Spain. Her heart felt heavy and sore within her. She had received a letter from Papa, in which he announced his engagement to Mrs. Thorold, to take place in July.

  It made an excellent excuse for returning. She knew it was a good thing for Papa and tried to be happy for him. For herself, she knew things would not be the same with a young wife ruling the house. Mrs. Thorold, Papa wrote, was “plenty young enough to give me that heir our relatives are always nagging me about.”

  In her room, she idly thumbed through her gowns, deciding what to take with her. She would take some of her mama’s pretty Spanish gowns and leave behind the hated white deb’s gowns. She was interrupted by Sally, now noticeably blond but still wearing her freckles.

  “Miss Comstock is downstairs, milady. She wants to know if you’d like to go out for a drive.”

  “I might as well,” Helena said idly.

  When she went to the carriage, she saw Malvern was there. She did not see Sugden send for a footman to follow them.

  “Not working, Allan?” she asked, surprised.

  “I am to take notes at a meeting for Beaufort tonight, so he has given me the afternoon off. We plan a drive out the Chelsea Road and a stop for tea. Mrs. Comstock could not come.”

  She was sunk to being a chaperon! “Would it be too much trouble to stop at the Admiralty? I want to arrange transport back to Spain. I have decided to return,” she announced.

  Her announcement was received with clamorous objections. “Why would you want to leave England? Spain is at war!”

  “The war does not bother us much at the viñedo. I cannot remain at Belgrave Square. And you must not breathe a word to Severn. Promise me on your heart you will not tell him.”

  They promised, though they both felt the threat was a mere love of dramatics on Helena’s part. She would not really leave.

  Malvern accompanied her to the Admiralty offices, then returned to wait with Marion in the carriage. An Admiral Henshaw, after the requisite warning of danger, agreed to book Lady Helena passage on the Princess Margaret. She returned to the carriage and they drove through the countryside to a Tudor inn tucked in under a cooling spread of elms.

  “I was sorry Severn had to postpone his outing to Brighton,” Marion said.

  It was the first Helena had heard of it. She didn’t know whether to be incensed or flattered. Had Severn postponed it because she had refused to go?

  “That is the way with us working gentlemen,” Malvern said. “I doubt I could have gotten away myself.”

  Marion poured tea. As her left hand flew often to hold the lid or straighten a cup, it was not long before Helena espied a chip of diamond on her finger.

  “Is that an engagement ring!” she exclaimed.

  Marion smiled softly. “We plan to marry very soon.”

  “May I be one of the first to congratulate you. I hope you will be very happy, Marion. And dear Allan.”

  Marion gushed on with details. “Allan wants to wait until he has a better-paying position, but Mama thinks the sooner the better. If we are married before Allan stands for Parliament, I can help him campaign.”

  Helena watched Malvern as she spoke, wondering if he would reveal any signs of regret. She could see only pleasure beaming from his eyes. It looked like genuine pleasure, even love.

  After a leisurely tea, they drove back to Belgrave Square. Helena was in her room when Severn returned later.

  “About her ladyship ...” Sugden said importantly, taking Severn’s hat and gloves. Severn lifted a black brow. A terrible feeling of doom came over him at the butler’s ominous tone.

  Sugden revealed that her ladyship had gone out with Miss Comstock and a young gentleman whose description sounded dangerously like that of Malvern. They had gone to the Admiralty, then out the Chelsea Road to the Thorn and Thistle for tea.

  Alone at an inn with that scoundrel? “Miss Comstock accompanied them to this inn?” he asked, blood rising up to his ears, where it caused a hammering sensation.

  “Yes, milord. Her ladyship was never alone with the man.”

  “That will be all, Sugden. Thank you. Have Lady Helena followed until further notice. And see that the footman is given funds to cover the expense of hiring a hansom cab.”

  Severn went to his study, where he sat with his head in his hands and a knot in his stomach, thinking. Would a trip to the Admiralty be necessary only to send her father his jackets, or did Malvern’s presence indicate they were booking passage for Spain together? He disliked to sully Helena’s reputation by making inquiries at the Admiralty. Word might get out.

  Severn was not one for laissez-faire politics. When a troublesome situation confronted him, he preferred to meet it head-on. He would ask Helena about this trip to the Admiralty with Malvern. Common sense told him it would be a stormy interview, very likely ending with Helena running to her room. He would let her have her dinner first and confront her after.

  His kindness diminished to mere civility over dinner. A query as to her day brought an admission that she had driven out with Marion. Not a word of Malvern, the deceitful creature! He expected to see signs of mischief in her demeanor and wondered at her listlessness. Lady Hadley told him of Algernon’s pending marriage. She did not mention Helena’s intention of attending it, for the very good reason that Helena had not told her.

  She said, “Did I tell you, Cousina? Your papa’s jackets have arrived from Weston. How will you get them to him?”

  “That is arranged,” Helena replied. She meant to take them with her.

  As they dined alone, Severn dispensed with his port and asked Helena into his office immediately after dinner. She agreed without pleasure and without any apparent misgivings.

  She didn’t take a seat but just asked, “What is it, Severn?” as soon as they were in the room.

  “You were out with Malvern today,” he said accusingly.

  He watched as her spine stiffened and a flash of anger shot from her dark eyes. “What of it? I am not a prisoner, I hope? Marion asked me to accompany them on a drive. As I have no carriage of my own, I must take what transportation I can.”

  “May I inquire why you went to the Admiralty?”

  “You have been spying on me! This is intolerable.”

  His hands flashed out and grasped her wrists in a painful grip as she turned away. “Are you planning to slip away to Spain with him? Is that it? Sneaking behind my back!”

  She wrenched her wrists free. “How dare you lay a hand on me, sir! For your information, Malvern is betrothed to Marion—not that it is any concern of yours whom I marry!”

  “What! Marion and Malvern?” He sensed a trick here.

  “Anyone with an eye in his head can see they are in love. Good God, why do you think he has suddenly become a pattern card of industry, finding a position and standing for Parliament? They plan to marry very soon.”

  The news was so unexpected, yet so welcome, that Severn hardly knew what to say. It was welcome, of course, for removing Malvern as a rival. “When did this come about? Surely Mrs. Comstock has not given her consent?”

  “It is Mrs. Comstock who wants an early wedding. She is half in love with him herself. You have a very wrong impression of Malvern if you think this is a case of cream-pot love, Severn. He is sincerely attached to Marion.”
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br />   “Attached to her dowry is more like it.”

  Her nostrils pinched in distaste. “All things look yellow to the jaundiced eye,” she retorted.

  Severn considered his position and realized he looked not only a fool, but a tyrant. In fact, his depriving Helena of her carriage might very well pitch her into seeking company that he disliked. And now that Malvern was out of the way, he had nothing to fear. Rutledge, he knew, had left for Newmarket. The fear and anger that had made his dinner such a trial dissipated, to be replaced by a feeling very like euphoria.

  “I’m sorry, Helena, about your carriage.”

  “You were overly interfering, Severn.”

  “I daresay you are right. I have not had a young lady under my protection before. Your being from a foreign country made me fear you were not aware of all our conventions.”

  He went to his desk and poured two glasses of wine without asking whether she wanted one. When he handed one to her, she hesitated a moment, then accepted it and sat down. Her mind was rushing ahead to other possible questions. If he asked why she had gone to the Admiralty, what could she say to fool him?

  Strangely, Severn did not even mention it. He assumed it had to do with dispatching her papa’s jackets. Having blundered into one egregious error, he had no intention of further humiliating himself. His mind now was on mending fences.

  “Your ball is this Friday,” he said, trying for a cheerful topic. “I trust we won’t have to postpone it, as we postponed the Brighton trip?” He ventured a smile.

  “That won’t be necessary. I should like to invite Malvern, if a dispensation for this special occasion is possible?” she asked, with gentle irony.

  “We can hardly leave out Marion’s fiancé. I feel she is making an error, but—”

  Helena set her glass on the desk with a thump. “Is it not usual for a critic to have some knowledge of that which he criticizes? What do you know about love, Severn? Stick to politics and finance. Your expertise in love is sorely lacking.” She rose and strode briskly from the room without a backward glance.

  She had no desire to go out that evening, but they were promised to a musical soiree at Lady Melbourne’s, and to claim a megrim might very well bring a doctor down on her head. It would be a quiet evening, at least. A young lady was allowed to look blue at such dull dos, when she could be out dancing. And she would be spared making meaningless conversation.

  She used the concert to plan her escape. She would remain in London for Moira’s wedding tomorrow and her own ball on Friday. Saturday the Princess Margaret set sail for Spain, and she would be on it. She could not leave without thanking Madrina. She must leave her a note.

  Severn, watching her from the corner of his eye while the Italian soprano sang, wondered what had brought that sad expression to Helena’s face. Was she, like him, unhappy with this breach in their romance? What could he do to win her back?

  When they reached home, she immediately headed for the staircase. “A moment, Cousin,” he said.

  She turned and looked at him coolly. “Your carriage has been repaired,” he said. “You may feel free to go out tomorrow—without being followed.” A blush rose up his throat to acknowledge his past folly.

  “Thank you. And my funds? Have they, too, been restored?”

  “I shall arrange it tomorrow. How much will you require?”

  “One hundred pounds should do it.”

  “If you are in a hurry, I should like to loan you the money. It takes a few days to sell consols, you must know.”

  “Again, thank you. Naturally I shall repay you before ... before long,” she said. The words “before I leave” had nearly slipped out. “A few days” might turn out to be a week, and she wanted to pay for her passage as soon as possible. She had been giving her flight much thought, and it occurred to her that the sooner she began sneaking her trunks down to the ship, the better. Her plan was to leave the house on the sly, and that meant going without any luggage. It seemed advisable to secure her cabin before using it for storage.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked.

  There were a dozen things that had to be done. Her tilbury and team must be sold, for instance, but she would arrange that in her note to Madrina. Naturally he would ask a dozen questions if she did it before going.

  “Nothing at the moment, thank you.”

  As he appeared to be making headway, Severn tried to push the reconciliation a step further. “Cousin, I am indeed sorry for my behavior these past days. We used to be ... closer. I feel we are drifting apart.”

  His words conjured up the vast expanse of water that would soon separate them, and tears sprang unbidden into her eyes. She could not speak for the great lump in her throat. She just patted his hand, then turned and ran upstairs to pitch herself on her bed to cry.

  What was the matter with her? Twice recently she, who never cried, had been reduced to tears by Severn. Why should she cry over that horrid man? Yet at times he did not seem horrid. He could be quite sweet when he wanted. Surely she was not falling in love with him? Love was a joyful thing, not this awful ache at the heart. Severn was not at all the sort of man she meant to fall in love with. He was not gallant or jealous enough. Oh, but she feared she had fallen in love with him. Her heart quickened when he entered the room. Her flesh burned when he touched her. And to think of never seeing him again was like entering a dark, endless night.

  She sensed that he wanted to marry her. Could she change him? What worse fate could a lady suffer than to love a husband who did not love her? Oh, he was gentleman enough to treat his wife with respect, but she wanted more than respect.

  She wanted him to lose his head over her, to forget about propriety and money and just love her enough to make a fool of himself over her. She felt he was capable of that sort of passion if he would let himself go. He was jealous of Malvern, but it was a cold, English jealousy, which took itself out in words.

  A Spanish lover would have found an excuse for a duel. No, she would cut it off in one stroke, like a knife severing a thief’s hand. It was the least painful thing in the long run, but in the near term, it was so very painful.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Good to his word, Severn returned Helena’s carriage and called off his bloodhound. She soon realized that even with her carriage, it was impossible to smuggle trunks out of the house, so she trimmed her luggage to a couple of large cases. Of course, Foster had no idea what was in the cases he carried to the Princess Margaret. The household knew Aylesbury had ordered jackets and assumed she had bought him other items of English fashion as well.

  The days were busy with visits and callers, with parties in the evening, and especially with preparations for her ball. Early in the Season she had ordered a special gown for the occasion, of white tulle over a taffeta underskirt. As a prelude to her return to Spain, she meant to wear her hair in the Spanish style, lifted off her face with a comb high on the back of her head. She also meant to flout convention and wear a long, brightly colored Spanish shawl. What did she care if people talked? She would soon be away from their whispers.

  Her relations with Severn continued to be coolly polite. He noticed in particular that she stiffened up at any mention of what she had been doing during the days when he was away. “I went driving,” she would say in a chilly way that made any further question seem an imposition.

  “How are you fixed for funds?” was also answered curtly.

  “I shall repay you shortly, Severn, if that is what concerns you.”

  “That was not my meaning! Do you need more funds?”

  “The money you were kind enough to advance me is more than sufficient. And how are things going at Whitehall?” always served as a diversion. He replied in detail, but it was perfectly obvious her interest was only perfunctory.

  Helena was hardly more open with Lady Hadley. She feared she might betray her plan by a careless word. She did tell her godmother on Wednesday morning, however, that she planned to attend Moira�
�s wedding that afternoon.

  “You’ll want an escort. Why not ask Severn to take you?”

  “He is too busy, and besides he does not care for Moira.”

  “That won’t bother Edward. He hardly ranted at Marion’s engagement at all. You are having a good influence on him.”

  “I have no influence whatsoever on him.”

  Lady Hadley did not argue, but mentally she disagreed. Helena had had an influence, but it was not the influence she had expected. Edward was more considerate, gentler somehow, but he was not so carefree as he used to be. All that Whitehall business, for instance. And Helena’s joie de vivre had left her entirely. She went through the motions of her Season as if it was a duty. She had expected fireworks from those two youngsters, but what they produced was a cold pudding.

  Helena made a careful toilette for the wedding and felt horribly underdressed. The other guests, mostly Gagehot’s friends and relatives, were arrayed in festive finery. It was a small, quiet ceremony. Helena listened to the fateful words of the wedding vows with awe. What a serious business it was. “Till death do us part.” The couple were radiant with joy. They wore the same doting look that Marion and Malvern wore.

  How did it come that those two couples, so much less fortunate than she and Severn in worldly circumstances, had found true love? Moira and Gagehot were old and well past their physical prime. Malvern was penniless and struggling to make his way in the world. Without undue vanity, Helena knew she was prettier than Marion, and, of course, wealthier. Yet with youth, attractiveness, and wealth, she had not found anyone to love her as these two ladies were loved.

  She felt so depressed that she excused herself before the wedding feast and left, after wishing Moira and Gagehot every happiness. She stopped only to arrange to have a hansom cab meet her after her ball to take her to the ship. At home she read the social columns of the journal. Every second item was an engagement notice. All the ladies were nabbing partis.

  At four she began listening for the sound of Severn’s arrival. He often came home early and usually seemed in the mood for conversation. Perhaps she would oblige him today, tell him about Moira’s wedding and reveal something of her feelings. For an hour she waited, then went to her room.