'Hateful man!' Helen jerked her head away. 'How dare you speak to me in such an insolent manner!'
'I am only speaking the truth, my dear. You may enjoy teaching your little girls how to speak the language of love, but we both know that isn't where your true talents lie. You have beauty enough to dazzle any man, and you would be foolish not to make the most of it before it is too late.'
'I will hear no more of this, sir!'
Wymington pretended to be hurt. 'I do wish you would call me Sidney. We are going to be seeing a good deal of each other over the next little while.'
'I will not see you again,' Helen said, fighting against the feelings of dread that were even now twisting her stomach into knots. 'Whatever the outcome of this meeting, I shall see to it that you are not allowed to continue in your plan. I will not allow you to ruin that young woman's life.'
Wymington chuckled, but the sound was sly and, at the same time, disturbingly sensual. 'Ruination is not always as bad as it is made out to be, Helen. Gillian may be young, but she longs for adventure and romance, and I can give that to her. Come now; be honest with me. Have you not longed for such adventure in your life? Would you have turned down an opportunity like this, had you found yourself in a similar position at her age?'
His words tore at Helen's heart, and for a moment, she could not speak the words she had to say. She had been in a position like this once; hopelessly in love with a man she could not have, and desperate to be with him. So desperate, that when Thomas had suggested they run away together, Helen hadn't even stopped to consider the consequences. She had agreed to an elopement, knowing they would be married as soon as they crossed the Scottish border.
Of course, the elopement had never taken place. Somehow, her father had learned of their plans and had immediately put a stop to them. He'd threatened to go to the Dean with news of Thomas's disgraceful behaviour, and he would have, but for Helen's fevered intervention on his behalf. She had promised her father that if he would let Thomas remain in the church, she would never see him again. And that was exactly what had happened.
But in the months that had followed, Helen had learned just how hard was the task she had set for herself. To live in the same village as the man she loved and to know she could say nothing to him beyond good morning or good afternoon had been torture of the most excruciating kind. But she had not faltered. She had stood by her promise and done everything her father had asked of her. But she could not deny that she had been willing to give up everything to be with Thomas.
Was that not exactly what Wymington was talking about now?
Helen took a long, deep breath and then stepped away from him. 'I have nothing more to say to you, Mr Wymington. Other than to advise you that you have made an enemy today.'
'I am sorry to hear that, Helen, but I shall not endeavour to change your mind. I shall only say goodbye until we meet again. And we will meet again.' Mr Wymington bowed, but when he straightened, Helen saw there was nothing of respect in his eyes. 'You can be quite sure of that.'
Chapter Ten
There was only one thought in Helen's mind as she hurried back towards the school. She had to talk to Gillian. She had to convince her that Mr Wymington was a liar and a cheat, and that for her own good, she must never see him again. But how was she to do that? How could she even begin such a conversation?
The only way you can begin it, Helen told herself. By telling Gillian the truth about everything that's happened—including the meeting you had with him today.
Helen tugged thoughtfully at her bottom lip as she passed through the shadow of Steepwood Abbey. Yes, she would certainly have to reveal what Mr Wymington had said to her, but the question was, would Gillian believe her? She already suspected Helen of siding with Oliver in the matter. Indeed, ever since their visit to Castle Ashby, Gillian had taken to remarking how attentive Oliver had been to her, and how much he seemed to have enjoyed her company.
Naturally, Helen had been quick to deny it. She has assured Gillian that Mr Brandon had merely been playing the part of an attentive host, and when reminded of the amount of time they had spent alone together, had replied that neither she nor Mr Brandon had wished to intrude on the good time the two girls seemed to be having.
Gillian hadn't believed a word of it, of course. And judging by the complacent smile she'd given Helen, the girl had formed her own impressions as to what was going on between her guardian and her teacher. In which case, Helen knew there was very little chance of Gillian believing her in this.
It did not make for an enviable situation, and when Helen got up the next morning she was no closer to knowing how to resolve matters than she had been when she'd gone to bed. She continued to think about it throughout the day, but had still not reached a decision when they set off for church on Sunday morning. Unfortunately, matters quickly went downhill and in a manner Helen couldn't even have begun to anticipate.
It all started when Oliver showed up unexpectedly after the service and invited Gillian and Helen to join him for a drive.
'Oh, Oliver, how splendid of you to suggest it,' Gillian exclaimed. 'I should love to go for a drive, and I'm sure Miss de Coverdale would too.' She slid a knowing glance towards her teacher. 'After all, the two of you got along so well at Castle Ashby.'
Helen felt her face go three shades of red. 'Thank you, Miss Gresham, but I do not think my joining you today would be appropriate.'
'Of course it would,' Gillian said, refusing to be denied. 'It will be far more pleasant than returning to school. Will you treat us to some refreshments as well, Oliver?'
'I think that could be arranged.'
'In that case, I shall certainly not join you,' Helen said quickly.
'Do you not eat, Miss de Coverdale?' Oliver enquired, a twinkle forming in his eyes.
'I do, sir, but not at someone else's expense.'
'Excuse me, Miss de Coverdale?'
Helen turned as Sally Jenkins came running up to her. 'Yes, Miss Jenkins, what is it?'
'Pardon the interruption, miss, but I was told to give you this.'
Helen glanced down at the small package Sally was holding out to her and frowned. 'What is it?'
'I don't know, miss. The gentleman said I was to give it to you as soon as you came out of church.'
'What gentleman?'
'Mr Wymington, miss.'
Helen heard Gillian's sharp gasp, of dismay beside her, but it was Oliver's reaction she feared the most. She glanced up at him to see his smile disappear and an expression of disbelief settle upon his features. 'Wymington is here?'
'I d-don't know. Miss Jenkins, did the gentleman say his name was...Mr Wymington?'
'Yes, Miss. He made me repeat it twice so I wouldn't forget.'
'But...where did you see him?'
'Over by the commons. He told me I was to give this to you because you had left it in his carriage.'
'In his carriage?' Gillian's expression reflected her feelings of shock and dismay. 'But...when were you in Mr Wymington's carriage?'
'I wasn't.' Helen's heart raced as she stared at the package in her hand. 'I have no idea what this is all about.'
'But you have seen Mr Wymington?'
That question came from Oliver and there was no mistaking the tone of voice. Helen looked up, and shivered at the iciness of his gaze. 'Mr Brandon, I think it would be best if we discussed this in private—'
'I asked you a question, Miss de Coverdale. Have you seen Mr Wymington in or around Steep Abbot?'
Helen sighed, painfully aware there was nothing she could do but tell him the truth. 'Yes. I arranged to meet with him on...Friday afternoon in Abbot Giles.'
'You arranged to meet him?' Gillian echoed in disbelief. 'But I don't understand. Why would you wish to do such a thing?'
'Perhaps before you answer that, you should open the box and see what Mr Wymington has returned to you,' Oliver said in a cold, disapproving voice.
Helen risked a quick look at Gillian, saw the doubt and bew
ilderment in her eyes, and then glanced down at the package. She folded back the paper with fingers that were visibly trembling, and to her astonishment, found herself staring at one of her new kid gloves.
'That is your glove, Miss de Coverdale,' Gillian exclaimed. 'I have seen you wear it on several occasions.'
Helen stared at it in bafflement. It certainly looked like her glove, but how could Mr Wymington possibly have gained possession of it? She hadn't left it in the cottage the afternoon she and Gillian had gone to see him, nor had she taken it off when she had met him in Abbot Giles.
'It is one very much like it, I admits but I...cannot be sure it is the same.'
Oliver picked up the glove and examined it. 'Where did you get these gloves, Miss de Coverdale?'
'A very good friend sent them to me.'
'From London?'
'Yes.'
Oliver nodded. 'I know the shop where they are made. The workmanship is quite distinctive and they do not come cheap. Gloves like these would not be common property around here. I can only assume it would have to be yours.'
'But there is no way Mr Wymington could have come into possession of it.'
'Why not? Were you wearing them when you met him in Abbot Giles?'
'Yes, but I did not take them off. And it is impossible for me to have left it in Mr Wymington's carriage, because I have never been in his carriage.'
'Why then would he say you had?' Gillian demanded.
Searching her mind for a plausible explanation, Helen could only shake her head in dismay. Something warned her that Wymington had planned this. He'd wanted her to be humiliated in front of Gillian. He had wanted to discredit her, and to make her look deceitful, and he had more than succeeded.
'Go back to school with Miss Brookwell and wait for me there, Gillian,' Oliver said abruptly.
'But Oliver—'
'Do as I say, child. I wish to speak to Miss de Coverdale alone.'
Looking very unhappy and more than a little confused, Gillian turned and slowly walked away. She glanced back over her shoulder a few times, her face a study in dejection as she looked from one to the other of them.
Oliver waited until she was well beyond their hearing before he turned to Helen and said, 'Now, Miss de Coverdale, would you care to explain what this is all about?'
Awkwardly, Helen cleared her throat. 'Truly, sir, I have no idea—'
'Pray do not take me for a fool, Miss de Coverdale.' Oliver's expression darkened ominously. 'Whether or not this is your glove is hardly the issue here. What is, is that you have been in contact with Sidney Wymington, and that you have chosen not to tell me about it.'
'But I have a good explanation—'
'If there is an explanation, I doubt it will be good,' Oliver snapped. 'Since you said you had arranged to meet Wymington, I can only assume you knew what he looked like. Does that mean you had occasion to see him prior to your Friday afternoon meeting in Abbot Giles?'
Reluctantly, Helen nodded. 'Yes, but—'
'And was Gillian with you?'
At that, Helen stopped. She didn't dare tell him that she had taken Gillian to see Mr Wymington in Abbot Quincey. Not without explaining why. But surely she could reveal the details of their chance encounter on the road. Surely he would not hold her culpable for that. 'Yes she was. Mr Wymington happened to come upon us as we were walking home from church.'
Sparks danced in Oliver's eyes. 'Did you not think that a little strange given that Mr Wymington resides in Hertfordshire?'
Helen's temper began to flare. 'Of course I did.'
'Yet on the strength of that meeting, you arranged to meet him again in Abbot Giles?'
'Well, no, not precisely.'
'Not precisely?'
Helen closed her eyes. It seemed that with every word, she was digging herself deeper into a hole. 'I arranged to see him again... after I had met with him at his uncle's cottage in Abbot Quincey.'
For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, like a volcano, Oliver's anger began to erupt. 'You met with him in the privacy of a family member's home?'
'Mr Brandon, I can assure you—'
'I want no assurances, Miss de Coverdale, other than to be told that Gillian did not accompany you on that visit.'
'I fear I really must be allowed to speak—'
'Damn and blast it, woman, answer my question! Did Gillian go with you when you went to see Wymington?'
Helen cringed at the anger in his voice. 'Yes, but if you would just let me explain—'
'No! I will hear no more! I let it be known in no uncertain terms, that Gillian was not to be allowed any contact with Mr Wymington, and yet today I learn that not only have you been in contact with him, but that you have exposed Gillian to him as well. Well that is not satisfactory, Miss de Coverdale. By God, it is not!'
A very short time later, Oliver jerked the horses to a halt in front of Mrs Guarding's Academy. 'Has Mrs Guarding returned from church?' he demanded of the young lad who came running to hold the horses.
'Aye, sir. A few minutes ago.'
'Good.' He tossed the reins to the boy, ordered him to hold them until he returned, and then, taking the stone steps two at a time, flung open the front door and climbed the stairs to the headmistress's sitting-room. He barely waited for an answer to his knock before he opened the door and walked in.
'Mrs Guarding, I have come to express my extreme dissatisfaction with you and a member of your staff.'
The smile of welcome that had been forming on the headmistress's face died within seconds of his greeting. 'Mr Brandon, whatever has happened?'
'Only that which I tried to prevent by warning you well in advance of its likelihood.'
'Would you care to sit down?'
'I am far too agitated to sit, madam.' Oliver began to pace the length of the room. 'I have just learned that my ward has been in contact with Sidney Wymington, and that Miss de Coverdale had a hand in the meeting taking place.'
'Miss de Coverdale?' The headmistress's disbelief was plain. 'I am sure there must be some mistake. I cannot believe Helen would do such a thing.'
'I regret to inform you that she has. I have just learned of the entire sorry affair. I thought to take Gillian and Miss de Coverdale for a drive, but whilst talking to them, a package was delivered to Miss de Coverdale by one of the students. It seems she left one of her gloves in Mr Wymington's carriage.'
Mrs Guarding gasped softly, and then leaned against the corner of her desk. 'Are you sure it was her glove?'
'I don't give a damn if it was.' Oliver's voice was cold and deliberate. 'The fact is, she has seen the man on three different occasions, the most recent of which was a meeting that she arranged herself in a nearby village. But far more distressing to me is the fact that she has allowed Gillian to be in contact with him as well.'
By now, Mrs Guarding's face had gone ashen. 'Mr Brandon, I really have no idea what to say.'
'There is nothing to say, madam,' Oliver interrupted harshly. 'I put my trust in you to keep Gillian safe from that man, only to discover that my faith has been sorely misplaced. Especially in regard to Miss de Coverdale. I begin to wonder if everything she's told me has been a Banbury tale.'
'Mr Brandon, I can understand your being angry. And while I have no idea what has transpired here, I do intend to find out. But you have no reason to doubt that anything else Miss de Coverdale has told you is anything but the truth.'
'Good God, madam, do you really expect me to believe that?' Oliver's laugh exploded as a harsh burst of sound. 'The woman went behind my back and did exactly what I asked her not to. She knew how I felt about Mr Wymington, yet she wilfully allowed this abominable meeting to take place. Well, that is not acceptable. I demand you take measures to remedy the situation at once.'
Mrs Guarding nodded, but her eyes were deeply troubled. 'Yes, of course. I shall speak to her at immediately upon her return.'
'I expect you to do more than speak to her, Mrs Guarding. I want Miss de Coverdale dismisse
d. If she is not, I shall ensure that no young lady of quality ever sets foot in this establishment again. Furthermore, I intend to remove Gillian before the end of the month and take her back to Hertfordshire, where with any luck, I shall find a suitable young man willing to marry her.' Oliver turned on his heel and headed for the door. 'Business matters compel me to leave first thing in the morning, but I shall stay at the Angel for the night. You may let me know of your decision there.'
Helen did not see Oliver again that afternoon. She knew he had spoken to Mrs Guarding, and she assumed he would talk to Gillian, but beyond that she had no idea of what he was planning to do. She sat on the edge of the bed in her tiny room and picked up the letter that had been waiting for her upon her return from church. With a heavy heart, she read the damning words again.
Dear Helen
I trust Miss Gresham and Mr Brandon were suitably impressed by the gallant return of your misplaced glove. A simple gesture, I thought, but highly effective. You are no match for me, my dear. You would do well to remember that. SCW
This, then, was what Mr Wymington had referred to when he'd said he would do whatever was necessary to achieve his goal. The entire performance had been planned with a view to discrediting her in front of Gillian. Obviously, he had convinced one of the girls—with heaven knew what kind of trickery— to remove the glove from her room and to bring it to him. Certainly, he had timed the delivery of it well. He knew that she and Gillian would be together after church and by making sure that the glove was delivered to her in such a way, it would have been obvious to Gillian that they had met. The fact that Oliver had been there to witness her disgrace had been an unexpected bonus.
The Guardian's Dilemma Page 12