The Guardian's Dilemma

by Gail Whitiker

  But he could not. He could not back down from the stance he had taken. And in acknowledging that, he also acknowledged that, after tonight, he would never see Helen again.

  'I do not see that leaving Gillian at Guarding's will serve any useful purpose.' Oliver's voice was firm, yet tinged with regret. 'Mr Wymington has been able to see her and to correspond with her easily enough during the past two months. What makes you think he would stop just because you were no longer there?'

  It was, Helen supposed, a logical answer. Until Gillian made up her own mind not to see Mr Wymington, there would be little anyone could do to stop her. Which meant, she realised sadly, that there was nothing more she could do here.

  'Mr Brandon, I deeply regret the disappointment I have caused you. I care about Gillian, and would hate to see her throw herself away on a man like Wymington. But I fear that in my efforts to help, I have managed only to exacerbate the situation, and for that I am truly sorry. It was not my wish to make things more difficult for you than they already were.'

  Oliver gazed across the room at her, and was seized by a sudden, inexplicable longing to take her in his arms and hold her close. He wished he could make the suffering he saw so plainly etched upon her face go away, for in truth, he knew how deeply she cared for his ward. He knew that what she had done, she had done with the girl's best interests at heart. But still something held him back. The knowledge that Helen had betrayed his trust by going against his wishes would not allow him to take that step forward. For while he could accept that her heart had been in the right place, he still could not bring himself to accept that she had deceived him.

  'What do you intend to do now, Miss de Coverdale?' he asked.

  Helen offered him a half-hearted smile. 'Mrs Guarding has told me that she will give me her decision in the morning. I shall make my own then. For now, I shall take up no more of your time.' She drew the hood up over her head and started for the door. 'Thank you for listening to me, Mr Brandon.'

  'Shall I walk you back to the school?' Oliver asked, taking an unconscious step towards her.

  Helen quickly shook her head, her eyes suspiciously bright. 'Thank you, but I know the way. Goodnight, Mr Brandon.'

  As the door closed behind her, Oliver closed his eyes and drew an unsteady breath. 'Goodnight, my dear Helen,' he whispered into the silence. 'And... goodbye.'

  Long before the sun rose to brighten the morning sky, Helen knew what she had to do. She had lain awake most of the night, restlessly tossing and turning as she reviewed in painful detail the events of the past week. And after considering all of the options, she settled on the only one that she felt suitable to resolving the situation.

  She sat down at her desk and wrote out two letters. She did not stop to consider her own feelings as her pen flew across the paper. She knew in her heart that what she was doing was right, because this wasn't about her. It was about doing what she had to for the people she loved.

  Her first letter was to Mrs Guarding. In it, she thanked the headmistress for being such a faithful ally, and expressed at length her gratitude for having had the opportunity to be a part of the Guarding Academy for Girls. She then went on to say that, given what was at stake, she felt it best that she resign her position and leave the school as quickly as possible. That way, Mr Brandon's demands would be met and hopefully, it would ensure that any plans for future retribution would be set aside. He might even be persuaded to reconsider his position and allow Gillian to remain at the school.

  Helen's second letter was to Oliver, and it was considerably more difficult to write. Her feelings for him had only deepened in the past weeks, and she knew that she had fallen in love with him. It was foolish, yes, but she had long since given up believing that anything to do with love was logical. Unfortunately, she also recognised that the way she felt about him could have no bearing on what she had to say. Because this too, had to be done for the best of all concerned.

  Helen sealed the two letters and then quickly took them down to the kitchen. She gave Oliver's letter to one of the young lads with instructions to deliver it to the Angel, and then slid the other one under Mrs Guarding's sitting-room door. Then, returning to her room, she began her preparations for the day to come.

  She had learned to live without the love of a man once in her life. Surely she could learn to do it again.

  Helen's letter was delivered to Oliver just as he was preparing to leave. He read it over slowly, a deep groove appearing in his forehead as he realised what she was saying.

  *Dear Mr Brandon

  I am sure it will come as no surprise to you that I have tendered my resignation to Mrs Guarding. I should have accepted your instructions without question, and I regret that my desire to do good has caused so much heartache. I can, however, assure you that your suspicions with regards to Mr Wymington are correct.

  The gentleman freely admitted to me that his interest in your ward was largely financial, and that he is convinced of his power over her; a power I believe he will not hesitate to use. In that, I can agree with your wish to remove Miss Gresham to Hertfordshire as soon as possible. But I would advise you to be cautious even there, for I am not convinced that he will so easily give up his pursuit.

  I would ask only one thing of you, sir. That is, that you reconsider your decision to force Gillian into a marriage of convenience. I cannot stress how detrimental I feel this would be, both to her, and to your continuing relationship with her. Gillian believes that love is the most important thing in the world, and as a result, her view of marriage is somewhat idealistic. I would suggest that if she is to be married, let it be to someone of her own choosing. She is far more likely to forget Mr Wymington if the gentleman who takes his place is one for whom she can feel genuine affection, rather than someone for whom she feels nothing.

  Again, please accept my heartfelt apologies for the problems I have caused.

  Yours most sincerely, Helen de Coverdale

  Oliver sighed. So, she had resigned. Good. That was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? After all, if teachers and servants were allowed to take matters into their own hands, the result would be social anarchy. There had to be some control exercised over their conduct.

  But if that was the case, why did he feel so damned wretched about the entire affair?

  Oliver tossed the letter on to the bed and slowly walked around the room. What would Helen do now? Go back into service? He thought it likely. But this time, she would hardly do so with a letter of recommendation to ease her way. Mrs Guarding would not be able to provide her with one, given the circumstances under which she was leaving.

  Which meant that Helen would have no choice but to seek a lesser position in a large house, perhaps as a lady's maid or a companion. He doubted she would wish to serve as a governess again. A woman so beautiful would never truly be safe in any man's house.

  Oddly enough, Oliver didn't like to think of Helen in such a position. He could not bear the thought of her having to fight for her virtue against men like Lord Talbot, or even Sidney Wymington. Of course, why he'd give a damn about what other men did to her made absolutely no sense at all. She was nothing to him.

  So why should the idea of another man making love to her make him want to run out and do everything he could to stop it from happening?

  Reluctantly, Mrs Guarding accepted Helen's resignation.

  'What will you do now, Helen?' she asked as she slowly folded up the letter.

  Helen tried to put a brave face on the situation. 'I'm not sure. Perhaps I shall apply to a domestic agency for work. I thought perhaps a position as a companion might be suitable.'

  'You would not consider going into service as a governess again?'

  'Not as long as there is anything else I can do, no.'

  Mrs Guarding nodded. 'I suppose I can understand your feeling that way, given everything that's happened. But I am so very sorry to lose you, Helen.'

  Helen nodded tightly. 'I am very sorry to be going.'

  'I will, of
course, prepare a letter of recommendation for you. Hopefully it will make matters easier.'

  Helen stared at the headmistress in astonishment. 'You would do that for me? But...I don't understand. You were not able to give Desiree such a letter.'

  'No, because her situation was not the same as yours. In Desiree's case, there were witnesses to the incident with Lord Perry. Here, the evidence is strictly circumstantial, and you yourself were not involved in any act of impropriety. I fail to see why you should be penalised for trying to help Miss Gresham, simply because it was not in the accepted way.'

  Helen gulped hard, hoping the older woman would not see how close to tears she really was. 'You are...too kind, Mrs Guarding. I had not expected such charity, given everything I have done.'

  'It grieves me to see you leave under conditions like this,' the headmistress admitted, her own voice brusque. 'Nor am I entirely pleased with Mr Brandon's decision to take Gillian back to Hertfordshire, now that you have sacrificed your position here.'

  Helen smiled faintly. 'Thank you, but my being here has nothing to do with his decision. He would have done that whether I stayed or not. No, it is his plan to settle Gillian in a marriage of convenience that causes me the greatest concern. Because I truly believe that, in the long run, that will be the straw that breaks the proverbial camel's back.'

  Chapter Twelve

  October, 1812

  In the drawing room at Shefferton Hall, Sophie regarded her brother with an expression of doubt and concern. 'Are you sure there is nothing else to be done, Oliver? It seems a rather drastic measure.'

  'Drastic it may be but I fear it is our only choice.' Oliver stood with his back to her and stared through the window into the darkness. 'I want you to find Gillian a husband by Christmas.'

  'That does not give us much time.'

  'It need not take much time. You must know of an eligible gentleman who is looking for a wife.'

  'Well, yes, but not necessarily one of whom Gillian will approve.'

  'I do not intend to study Gillian's wishes in the matter.' Oliver's voice was terse. 'She cannot be trusted to use her head in choosing a husband, so we must use ours. And I will tolerate no interference from anyone in this.'

  'If you are referring to Miss de Coverdale, I think you are being unnecessarily harsh, Oliver,' Sophie observed. 'It seems to me the woman was only trying to help.'

  Oliver's face stiffened. 'I do not wish to discuss Miss de Coverdale's participation in this, Sophie. I gave explicit instructions beforehand and I expected them to be obeyed.'

  'Yes, but by not doing so, Miss de Coverdale has given you proof of Mr Wymington's deceitfulness. Proof you yourself said you were in need of.'

  'Proof it may be, but it has done little to change Gillian's mind. She is still of the opinion that the man is a paragon.' Oliver all but spat the word. 'That is why I want her here at Shefferton, where I can keep my eye on her. At least until she is safely married.'

  It was clear from the expression on Sophie's face that she was far from happy, but as though sensing it would be impossible to change her brother's mind, she merely lifted her shoulders in a graceful shrug. 'Very well, if this is what you wish, I will see what I can find out.' She stopped and thought for a moment. 'There is young Nigel Riddleston, I suppose.'

  Oliver turned. 'The baronet's son?'

  'Yes. He is a pleasant young man. Perhaps not as dashing as Mr Wymington, but he is certainly handsome enough. And if I do not miss my guess, he has been harbouring a tendre for Gillian ever since Lady Tingley's musicale last summer.'

  Oliver slowly nodded his head. Yes, he knew the lad. He was a good-natured chap with a keen wit and a well-grounded sense of duty and obligation. And there was both money and property in the family. Yes, he might be just the man, Oliver thought with relief. Hopefully, in time, Gillian would come to love him. For while Oliver was loathe to commit his stepsister to a loveless marriage, he was determined to protect her from the Sidney Wymingtons of the world.

  'Thank you, Sophie. If you would be so good as to meet with Mr Riddleston and see if there is any interest on his part, I shall begin to prepare Gillian.'

  Sophie glanced towards him, and the concern was evident in her eyes. 'She will not be happy about this, Oliver. You do know that, don't you?'

  Oliver sighed. 'I am well aware of the fact, my dear. I also know that I do not have your complete agreement to the plan. But I cannot help but feel that the sooner Gillie is safely married to a man we can trust and respect, the less likely we are to suffer consequences that will make more than just Gillian unhappy.'

  Helen was clearing out the small cupboard in her classroom when Gillian appeared in the doorway. She was holding a letter in her hand, and her face was as white as a ghost's.

  'Miss de Coverdale, is this true? Is Oliver really going to marry me off to a man I do not even know?'

  Helen sighed as she slowly got to her feet. It was the first time Gillian had spoken to her since the disastrous events of that fateful Sunday. Obviously, her concern over her guardian's plans was more than enough to make her forget her anger.

  'I fear that is his intent, Gillian. He was very upset about what happened with Mr Wymington and he is anxious to see you happily settled.'

  'But how can you say that? He is not concerned with my happiness at all!' she cried, waving the letter in the air. 'He simply wishes me off his hands.'

  'I do not believe that for a minute. Neither would you if you had seen how unhappy he was the last time I spoke with him.'

  Gillian collapsed into a chair, her face a picture of despondency. 'Oh, it is all going so horribly wrong. First Oliver tells me I am to go back to Hertfordshire, and now I learn that I am to be married by Christmas. On top of that, I have been suffering agonies of guilt over having accused you of trying to lure Mr Wymington away. What must you think of me!'

  'Gillian, there is no need—

  'There is every need,' the girl cried. 'How could I have accused you, my dearest friend, of behaving in such a manner? You, who have done nothing but show me kindness ever since I arrived. I am ashamed of myself for even thinking such a thing.' Gillian got up and flung herself into Helen's arms. 'Can you ever forgive me, my dear Miss de Coverdale?'

  Nearly overcome with relief, Helen gave a shaky laugh. 'Dear child, of course I can forgive you. It was a very emotional day for all of us, and I think we all over-reacted a little. But now we must think of your future and what you are going to do about it.'

  'I don't want to go back to Hertfordshire, Miss de Coverdale. I don't want to be married to someone I have never met. I would far rather stay here with you.'

  Deciding for the moment not to tell Gillian that she wasn't going to be staying herself, Helen merely smiled and brushed the hair back from Gillian's face. 'Well, I cannot say for certain, my dear, but perhaps if you were to promise your guardian that you would not see Mr Wymington again—'

  'Not see him! But—'

  'Gillian, listen to me, it is the only way your guardian will allow you to stay. Understand that now, or know that you will have no choice but to return to Hertfordshire with him and do as he asks.'

  Helen held her breath as Gillian slowly turned away. It was impossible to tell from the expression on her face what she was thinking. 'I doubt I shall ever find anyone as wonderful as Mr Wymington.'

  'I know. But you will never know unless you try. Perhaps you will find someone even better.'

  Gillian smiled, but Helen could tell her heart wasn't in it. She gave a half-hearted nod, and then turned and walked out of the room.

  The entire episode left Helen feeling distinctly out of sorts. She could not bring herself to believe that Gillian would do something reckless in the short period of time she had left, but something about the look on the girl's face worried her excessively.

  'Oh, Oliver, I do hope you're doing the right thing,' Helen whispered into the silence. 'And I do hope you get Gillian away from here before she has a chance to do something we wil
l all live to regret!'

  Oliver decided not to make the Guarding Academy his first stop upon his return to Northamptonshire. Instead, he headed for Abbot Quincey and the cottage reputed to belong to Mr Wymington's uncle. He assumed he would find Mr Wymington there. By all accounts he had not returned to his rooms in Hertfordshire, nor had he shown his face in London.

  Which probably meant he was still in the area, waiting for an opportunity to see Gillian.

  Well, he would find no success in that quarter, Oliver reflected grimly. Wymington would be told that if he didn't stay the hell away from her, he would be made to suffer the consequences. It was long past time someone put the man in his place. And if he refused, Oliver intended to demand satisfaction. After that, he planned to carry on to Guarding's and tell Mrs Guarding that he had rethought his decision with regard to Helen.

  Oliver had wrestled long and hard with his conscience and in the end, had come to the conclusion that there was nothing to be gained by his forcing Helen to leave Mrs Guarding's employ. He hadn't changed his mind about removing Gillian from the school. And given that he and Sophie had already met with the younger Mr Riddleston and found him as delighted with the prospect of courting Gillian as they were of seeing it happen, there seemed to be no reason to exact further vengeance. It was enough that Gillian's life would be turned upside down, without doing the same to Helen's. She had already suffered enough. Oliver had no wish to be the cause of any further grief in her life.

  Unfortunately, when Oliver arrived in Abbot Quincey and eventually located the cottage he was looking for, he was dismayed to find it securely locked, and seemingly in want of an owner.

  'Are you looking for the old man who lived there, or the younger one?' a voice called to him from the street.

  Oliver turned around and saw a middle-aged woman standing by the gate. She was plainly dressed and carried a baby on one ample hip. A little girl of about four clutched at the fabric of her skirt, while a blond-haired boy played in the dirt behind her.