by L G Rollins
“But this girl and her brother,” the housekeeper said, “came knocking on the kitchen door only two days ago, begging to be hired. I would have turned them away immediately, only, as you have already pointed out, we are sorely stretched seeing to all the needs of Lady Andrews’s guests. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“Of course.” Helena would not blame the housekeeper if she did complain a bit. A dozen more people to cook and clean for could not be easy. “Still, I am glad you hired them both. I would hate to think that they were out in the dead of winter with no shelter or food.”
The housekeeper went so far as to scoff softly. “There are dozens of children with no shelter or food every winter, miss. It isn’t our place to house them all.”
Helena’s jaw grew tight. Even overworked, how could one woman be so unfeeling? “Certainly Hedgewood Manor cannot take them all in, but those two, at least, have honest work. Of that, I’m glad.”
She took hold of her skirt in both hands, ready to leave the corridor in high enough dudgeon to make the housekeeper think twice about speaking so dismissively of those below her. As she marched off, Helena couldn’t help but glance back. The housekeeper, with her back to Helena, opened the kitchen door and moved inside.
Mary stood just beside the door; she’d probably been there the whole time listening to the housekeeper and Helena. The girl was watching her, though it wasn’t gratitude so much as curiosity which tugged at her features now. Helena shot her a quick smile and left.
It wasn’t exactly the sort of interaction she’d imagined having when Emma had first invited her to join the holiday festivities. Nonetheless, it was most satisfying to know she had, in a small way, helped see to it that one little girl and one little boy would not go cold or hungry this season.
Chapter Nine
“It is such a warm day,” Emma said to the room in general. As a clear response to everyone’s surprised expressions, she quickly added, “For December, that is.”
Helena would have agreed had she not been so preoccupied. The chessboard between herself and Lord Ellis was demanding all of her attention. She could either move the pawn nearest her knight or her queen. Moving the queen felt risky, but moving the pawn wouldn’t garner her much. In a manner, moving the pawn might prove more risky than moving the queen.
“Would it be dreadful of me to admit I am tired of being indoors?” one of Lord Chapman’s sisters complained. Helena didn’t bother turning around to see which one; she wouldn’t have been able to tell by looking at them anyway.
“Of course not, dear,” Lady Andrews cooed. “It is rather trying for young people to be forever stuck inside.”
“Your turn, Miss Spencer.” Clearly, Lord Ellis was losing his patience.
“I realize that,” she said, struggling to keep her own tone even. Playing chess had always been more fun when she was a child. Picking up her white queen, she slid it across the squares and placed it nearer the black king, but not too close.
“Ha.” Lord Ellis tossed his head back and crowed. His dark hair barely moved, however, no doubt due to an inordinate amount of pomade. He moved his knight over a bishop and toppled her white queen over.
Helena pursed her lips and concentrated on the board. Most women she knew would have told her to giggle at her own mistakes and stop trying to win. After all, she could save face by pretending to not even try and then shrug off losing. But Helena hated to feign ignorance. It wasn’t likely that she would actually win, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from trying.
She placed her fingers atop the pawn. Perhaps she should have moved it to begin with. Then, at least, she would still have her queen.
A soft cough drew her gaze up, past Lord Ellis, to where Lord Chapman stood beside a bookshelf. He appeared to be reading labels off the shelf. Subtly, he shook his head, his gaze not leaving the books.
Had he been shaking his head at her? It felt foolish to assume so, yet, something inside her told her that’s exactly what he’d done. She lifted her fingers and slowly moved them across the other pieces, hoping she appeared to be thinking intently on her next move. She was, after all. Just not in the way she hoped Lord Ellis understood her to be.
As her fingers brushed against her remaining knight, Lord Chapman’s head moved down and then up in a long nod. His hand came up, his finger flipping upward and to the left before he placed it against a book midway up the shelf.
Helena looked down at the board. She wasn’t fully convinced that she wasn’t imagining Lord Chapman’s help. For all she knew, he was engrossed in his own thoughts. Or he was suggesting she move her knight, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was any kind of an expert at chess. Then again, what did she have to lose? She certainly wasn’t going to win without his help.
She picked up the knight, moved it forward two, and to the left one, setting it down beside Lord Ellis’s rook. He didn’t crow over her this time. Next, he moved his king forward. Helena let her hand slip over the pieces, surreptitiously watching Lord Chapman all the while. He nodded in that same, long motion as she reached her rook. He was signaling to her. Helena bit back her smile. Perhaps all was not lost after all. Back and forth the game continued. Helena managed to take a pawn. Lord Ellis took her bishop. She took a rook. He took her last knight.
Helena moved her fingers over the few remaining pieces she still had on the board. A pawn, two rooks, a bishop, and, of course, her king. It was possible to win with so few pieces, she knew, but Lord Ellis had far more and it was making maneuvering hard. Lord Chapman’s head, instead of nodding as she expected, simply rocked side to side. He seemed as unsure as she was.
There was always the pawn. She’d been wanting to move it for many turns now but hadn’t. If she could only move it forward a few squares more, she could get her queen back. But Lord Ellis would see it coming; there was no way to hide such a move. Still, she placed two fingers on the small pawn and pushed it forward. Lord Ellis smiled and Helena knew she’d lost.
Wrapping nearly his whole hand around his bishop he moved it forward, directly over the square her pawn had been on, and halfway across the board.
“Checkmate!” Not giving her so much as a minute to respond, he stood and stalked off, strutting like he’d just defeated Napoleon himself.
“Perfect timing,” Emma said, rushing over to Helena. “We were all just saying how much we would enjoy a turn about the gardens. Care to join us?”
“All right,” she muttered, watching Lord Ellis march off, probably to tell the other gentlemen how he’d defeated her so soundly. Well, that was one eligible bachelor she could tell Emma to stop worrying over. Paragon or no, she could not see herself the wife of a man like that.
Emma hurried away, inviting all in the room to change into warmer attire so that they might stroll comfortably out of doors. Helena’s gaze moved to Lord Chapman. He caught her eye and gave her a small shrug.
“Sorry,” he mouthed, wordlessly.
She waved it off with a hand. It wasn’t his fault she’d lost; all he’d tried to do was help. She may not have won, but he had at least helped her make Lord Ellis’s win slightly more difficult to come by. And the little bit of subterfuge had been quite diverting. If the whole room had not been present, she may have walked over and told him as much but thought better of it lest she tip her hand to Lord Ellis. She might have lost all interest in pursuing the man, but she’d still rather he not believe her a cheat. Instead, she offered Lord Chapman a simple smile; hopefully, he would understand that she meant it as a thank you.
He smiled back.
Helena’s stomach flipped at the sight. She blinked and forced her eyes away. Good heavens, but he was handsome when he smiled. Quite enough to make any woman weak in the knees. It was rather a wonder a man like that hadn’t been snatched up already. The thought turned sour. He had almost been snatched up. By her. Not that it had been her doing at all, but between the late Lord Chapman passing earlier that year and the scandal surrounding the two of them, i
t was quite logical he had not had the wherewithal to form any attachments. Helena scowled at her own foolishness.
“Hurry up, Helena,” Emma said, taking her hand and pulling her upward. “Get your pelisse and fur-lined bonnet ready. We’re meeting in the back parlor in a quarter of an hour.”
The room was already nearly empty of everyone except Lady Andrews and Lady Shakerley. It seemed Emma was not the only one who was tired of being indoors. Even Lord Chapman was making his way out and into the corridor. So he was going to walk outside with them, too? Helena realized that she hoped he would.
Side by side, she and Emma left the drawing room and headed up the stairs.
Emma leaned in and kept her voice low. “How are things with Lord Ellis? Any interest blooming there?”
“I hope not,” Helena whispered back. “I can say most definitively that he is one gentleman you can mark off your list of prospects.”
“Oh.” Emma pouted. “That only leaves two others. Are you sure you won’t reconsider? He very well may improve upon better acquaintance.”
“No, thank you. I am quite sure.”
Emma was kind enough to not say anything more and they separated as they reached their bedchambers. Helena chose her warmest pelisse, one in velvety blue, and a matching bonnet to go with it. Pulling it on, Helena paused and fingered the soft sleeve. Father had bought this for her only months before he’d unexpectedly passed. Heavens, what would he think of her now if he could see her, vying for the attentions of nearly any and all eligible gentlemen? Would he be disappointed? Would he understand?
She had been robbed of her last remaining bit of family when he’d passed. If he could look down on her from heaven as he always said her mother could do, surely he’d see how lonely she was. How much she wanted a place to belong. Someone with whom to belong.
Helena shook away the melancholy. The hurt always struck at the oddest of times. She would be fine for days, sometimes weeks, and then it would rear its painful head once more. But she had other things to occupy herself with just now. She pulled the bedchamber door open and hurried down to the back parlor.
The room was small and with so many people packed inside, quite full. Though she searched most diligently, Helena didn’t see Lord Chapman among all the greatcoats and top hats.
Emma slipped up behind her, wearing a maroon pelisse and a cream-colored bonnet. Helena tried, and not for the first time, to tamp down the bit of jealousy that arose at seeing her friend’s dark curls against the deep red fabric across her shoulder. Auburn hair was striking, though never fashionable. But the worst part of it was how it limited what one could wear. Maroon was strictly out of the question as far as Helena was concerned.
“Who are you looking for?” Emma asked, “Topper or Lord Forbes?”
Helena opened her mouth, and the truth nearly slipped free. She wasn’t looking for either of those gentlemen. She thought better of such a confession at the last minute. “No one, in particular. I was just surprised at how many of Lady Andrews’s house guests you were able to convince to join us.”
“If I had been born a male, I would surely rule Parliament. That’s what my mother is always saying.” She slipped her arm around Helena’s and her voice dropped softer. “But a word of advice. You ought to be looking for someone in particular. A man will never notice a woman who doesn’t make him feel noticed first.”
“Please tell me you didn’t overhear that on-dit from Miss Wynn.”
“Oh no, I overheard it from someone equally nasty during the Season.” Emma giggled.
Helena was one part appalled, and one larger part diverted. “I sincerely hope you are blessed with many daughters one day. You will make an excellent conniving Mama.”
“I know.” Emma sighed.
Not two minutes later, it was determined that all who cared to take a turn outside were gathered. The back doors were opened, and they all hurried out as quickly as the cold air rushed in. It was a merry way to spend a bit of the afternoon. The rose bushes were covered in snow, but the paths were easy enough to walk. Helena spoke a bit with Topper and then with Lord Chapman’s sisters. Though she sincerely wanted to, Helena didn’t ask outright where their brother was. Still, she gathered from their wandering conversation that he’d had to stay behind, at the house, to help their mother with something.
“I have an idea,” Miss Wynn called out. “Let us all go wander about the hedge maze. What fun it will be!”
Immediately, everyone agreed.
Everyone except Helena.
As people rushed forward, hurrying down the gentle slope and toward the entrance, Helena’s own steps slowed until she was rooted to the ground at the edge of the rose garden path. She was still several paces away. From where she stood, Helena could see over the top of the first few rows. Perhaps it should have made the maze feel less intimidating since she stood above it. Instead, it only started her heart pounding. The dark, weaving path between the hedges appeared to her like a long, black snake—one she had now seen more than once or twice in her nightmares and far too many times to trust. Just looking at the maze made her skin crawl.
“What is it, Helena?” Lady Christina—or perhaps it was Lady Eleanor—asked. She stood with her twin, Lady Emma, and Topper. The others had all hurried on and were already inside the maze.
This was silly and foolish and ridiculous. A nightmare or two did not mean the giant maze was truly dangerous. Walking between the towering hedges may feel unsafe but going in with others, as she was, couldn’t truly be dangerous. She closed her eyes for a minute and willed her feet to carry her forward.
It didn’t work.
Moreover, her breathing grew rapid and her head tingled with too much air. Good heavens, she felt like she very well might faint.
“Are you all right?” Topper asked.
Helena shook her head and looked back up. “Pardon me, but I think I am getting too cold. I shall just return to the house. You all go ahead without me.” Just thinking of returning to the house helped her quick breaths to calm.
The sisters watched her closely, both clearly unsure. Emma, standing back a few paces where no one but Helena would see her expression, was giving Helena an intense don’t-you-dare-go-back-inside-now stare.
But she hadn’t told Emma about her nightmares; she hadn’t told anyone. And she wasn’t about to now.
“I can see you back,” Topper offered.
Emma’s scowl morphed instantly into a bright, this-is-even-better smile.
“No, that is quite all right.” She would feel guilty if he missed out on something he’d seemed quite excited about before. Moreover, she didn’t feel like justifying herself or making conversation. “I can see the house quite plainly. It is only a short walk back. I shall be fine.”
Emma’s scowl was back. Helena would have to explain later. For now, all she could do was spin on her heel and hurry back toward the house. As she slipped in through the back parlor, she paused halfway across the room. If she went back into the drawing room, there was a good chance she’d be pulled into a longwinded conversation with Lady Andrews, Lady Shakerley, and possibly Lady Chapman. She liked all three matrons well enough but explaining to those sharp minds why she’d suddenly left the other ‘young people’ would not be easy.
Instead, she hurried up the stairs before anyone could catch and question her. She still felt a bit shaken from the terror which had unexpectedly gripped her earlier, but being in the warm house was quickly easing the last of her panic. Nonetheless, she didn’t feel like hiding out in her bedchamber where she had nothing to do but wonder why the maze had scared her so. Untying the ribbon beneath her chin, Helena pulled her bonnet off. As she did so, her gaze crossed over two closed doors on the other side of the landing.
The library. Perfect. She could easily spend an afternoon in there, with no one asking her questions and without becoming the least bit bored. Not bothering to leave her pelisse and bonnet with her abigail first, Helena turned herself in the direction of the l
ibrary.
Chapter Ten
Fredrick watched his mother closely as she lifted the teacup to her mouth. Was it just a play of the firelight, or was she trembling slightly? She’d complained of a drafty room when they’d first arrived, but he’d spoken to Lord Andrews and that had been fixed immediately. As he’d told Mother, their host and hostess were only too happy to remove her to a different room where she was more comfortable.
She hadn’t complained about her new room. Was that because she was comfortable here, or because she worried she would be too much of a burden if she requested a change yet again?
Fredrick lifted his own tea and motioned toward the room around them. “Is this bedchamber more to your liking, Mother?”
“Yes,” was her simple reply.
Fredrick wished Father had had more time before he passed to explain to him how to better understand Mother . . . and Christina and Eleanor . . . or any woman for that matter. His mind jumped back to Miss Spencer and the game of chess. At least she had understood him. And he, her, if only for a few minutes. Though a lot of good it did her.
“You wanted to go walking outside, didn’t you?” Mother said with a sigh.
Fredrick had, but his heart hadn’t been set on it. “I am quite content sitting with you.”
“No, you’re not.” She sounded angry. Fredrick sat up. Mother hardly ever got angry. “You’re young and you want to be out there with everyone else. You should be out there. If you hurry, you can catch up, I am sure of it.”
Fredrick wasn’t. “Is that what Father would have done? Leave you when you wished for company?”
She scowled at him. “You know he wouldn’t have.”
Apparently, that had been an unwelcome statement. Heaven help him, he didn’t understand why.
Instead, he tried, “They’re probably nearly ready to return inside by now. It may be warm for December, as Lady Emma pointed out, but that doesn’t mean it’s warm enough to stay out long. Don’t worry about me. If I had wanted to go outside walking, I would have.”