And that made her want to read more.
After fetching the heavy book and ordering tea, she retired to the sun-filled morning room. When the blue-uniformed footman Adam arrived with a pot of fragrant green tea, he also carried a letter on a silver tray.
Post, already? Pleasure swelled in her chest. Someone was thinking of her. The thought was far more effective than tea at reviving the spirits.
But the message was not so unexpected, after all. It was from Gemma, accepting Helena’s invitation to visit with the children. A happy thing, but her chest ached with disappointment. She’d been so anxious for a word from home, a scrap of familiarity.
How foolish. It was far too soon to receive a letter from London. Helena had known what she gave up when she agreed to come here to marry. But still, tears stung her eyes.
Helena didn’t have many correspondents. The last letter she’d received, back in London, had come from Frederick Coles. Full of passion and promises, it was the sort of letter one locked in a treasure box and brought out on dreary days as a reminder of true love. She’d held the wretched thing to her cheek that day, unaware it was a lure. Passion and promises were naught but a disguise for betrayal and brokenness.
Boot steps sounded in the hall. She wiped her watery eyes with her thumb.
John stepped in the room, seeming to fill it with his height and breadth. His eyes widened when he saw the paper in her hand. “You received a letter from your family already?”
She forced a smile. “Gemma accepted my invitation. I had hoped, however, to alter our plans from a nursery visit to a picnic.” At his opening mouth, she held up her hand. “The weather is fine, and the boys so rambunctious. It is against Catriona’s rules, I know, but Louisa will be in constant company. I will select an even location, free of stones.”
Helena could never compete with the previous Lady Ardoch, nor did she wish to. Yet it was ridiculous to confine the children indoors. The only Agnes-approved exercise they received was running about the nursery or pushing their hoops in the portrait gallery, which stretched the length of a wing and had been cleared of anything that could break or hurt Louisa.
It was difficult not to resent Catriona’s years-old rules, which were no doubt placed to protect an infant, not a busy child. But the rules hampered each of the children’s play, not just Louisa’s, and like her brothers and cousin, Louisa was growing up. She could not be carried or hidden inside forever.
John rubbed his temple, but nodded. “I’ll not deny a picnic, as long as Louisa is attended, but even so, we must remain vigilant so she is not injured.” The lines furrowing his brow did not ease. “Which is why I’m not sure it was wise to take Louisa on the stairs.”
Ah, so that explained his searching her out. Which servant had been the tattle-box?
“I kept Louisa in hand the entire time.”
“I know. But her mither’s concerns were valid.” He nodded, a sort of bow. “I’ll leave you to your tea.”
She couldn’t stomach her tea now if she were parched. “Thank you.”
So polite. It seemed they were always trying not to offend each other. How exhausting.
Perhaps he felt so, too, for even his businesslike smile seemed strained. “Until dinner?”
At her nod, he bowed and withdrew, leaving her with fidgeting thumbs and a pot of untouched tea and the first letter she’d received since that terrible note from Frederick Coles back in London—
She should be thinking of the children and John’s reluctant permission for the picnic, not Frederick Coles. He was gone now, vanished the night he ruined her.
She was gone, too. So far north he couldn’t find her if he ever returned to Britain. But even if she never saw his face or heard his voice again, Frederick Coles would never truly leave her in peace, would he?
Chapter Eight
John poked his head into the nursery one sunny morning a few weeks later. Iona slept beneath the table in the center of the yellow room where the older children sat, writing, while Helena and Louisa curled on the floor with a pile of buttons betwixt them. Louisa counted to eleven before anyone noticed John.
“Oh.” Helena scrambled to her feet, her cheeks flushing the shade of her pink dress. The children rushed to him, Margaret guiding Louisa by the hand.
“Is this a bad time?” John ruffled the boys’ hair and pulled the girls in for short hugs.
“I wished to speak to you, anyway,” Helena said over the children’s heads.
She did? They didn’t usually spend much time together during the days, but their routine of dinner, bidding the children good-night and sharing light conversation in the library had become well established. John had begun to look forward to chatting with Helena about the children and what they’d read in the Bible that day. A new sense of normalcy was setting in, and even the children seemed to be adjusting. Alex had two more nightmares, but he was quickly soothed. Callum’s French had improved. Louisa started making up songs. And Margaret hadn’t complained about Helena in almost a week.
But Helena’s seeking him out was new. “Is something amiss?”
“On the contrary. I hired a governess this morning. Miss Munro.”
At last. “She’s a qualified female, I take it? Knows how to use a handkerchief properly?”
“Of course.” Helena didn’t try to mask her smile. Good. Making her smile was one of John’s new favorite things to do. Despite his original insistence that tolerable normalcy was all he wanted from his marriage, John had quickly learned he’d wanted to be friends with his wife. But right now, when she smiled a true smile like this, he realized he wanted one more thing.
He wanted Helena to be happy at Comraich.
She deserved so much more than a bearable existence. John couldn’t help thinking God wanted more for her than that, too.
Louisa patted his waistcoat. “Why are you here, Papa?”
“I’ve come for Alex. Ardoch matters.” Years ago, John’s father had taken him about the estate and spoken to him of duty. John now saw the importance of such serious talks. Alex must understand that one day it would be his turn to carry on the name and traditions, and seven years of age was not too young to learn of his responsibilities.
Even if he did not look enthusiastic as he joined John. “What about the picnic?”
“Ah, yes. The long-awaited picnic.” Although Helena and Gemma Knox had scheduled the luncheon a few weeks ago, it had been postponed when the Knox wards fought summer colds. “We shall return in plenty of time.”
Iona joined them outside. First they spoke to Meeker, the land manager, about the crops and animals. A few more head of cattle seemed to be missing, and the problematic bull had been moved to a new pen this morning when it showed renewed signs of aggression. Now that it was finished, they climbed the rise overlooking the Ardoch lands. Father and son. Lord and heir.
He clapped Alex’s slim shoulder. “All you see, from Comraich to the crops, will be yours to oversee someday. ’Tis a great duty, but I know you’ll do a fine job of it.”
Alex stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. Was the lad cold, on this fine, cloudless day? Or mayhap he was overwhelmed. John rubbed the back of his son’s neck.
“What if I lose cattle?” Alex’s voice was small.
“Meeker will find them.”
“Not the stolen ones.”
“True.” John could only pray the beef filled the bellies of the thieves’ hungry children. But if more cattle went missing and the aggressive bull could no longer be used as a sire, John faced a potential revenue problem. But he’d trust the Lord with it and pray for the best. “It pleases me that you ask questions about the way we do things here.”
“Because it’s mine.” It was a statement of fact, not a gloat. “What will Callum be, when I am Lord Ardoch?”
To his shame, John hadn’t given the matter much thought. “
I do not know yet. I will discuss his options with him.”
Alex’s boot toed a divot into the grass. “Will they picnic without me?”
The abrupt change of subject drew John’s gaze. Children were like that, though. Thinking of fun and games. Ah, well. There’d been enough talk of responsibility today. He wriggled Alex’s shoulder in a playful shake. “Of course not, but you’re right, the hour is near. Come, Iona.” John’s shrill whistle summoned the panting dog.
“Will you picnic with us, Papa?”
“Alas, no.” There were rumors of political unrest in Manchester, talk of reformation or revolution or sedition, and while there was little he could do, he would write to members of his party, including his friend Carvey, to work on a plan of action. Today he’d also received another letter fastened with a falcon-crested wax seal, demanding more money, and quite a bit of it, too. He glanced down at Alex. “Sometimes being Lord Ardoch means fulfilling difficult obligations.”
“Sounds disagreeable to me.” Alex skittered off, Iona at his heels.
It was. But John would ensure the matter of the blackmail would be settled long before Alex inherited the estate. Soon enough John’s investigator would expose the blackguard responsible for the blackmail, and no one would ever know about it—not the children, and definitely not Helena.
She was starting to be happy, and he’d not do anything to jeopardize it.
* * *
Helena restrained herself from throwing up her hands in frustration when John returned with Alex from the nursery, just as Gemma’s carriage pulled before the front door.
“What?” John’s brows went up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because they’re here and you’re late. Alex.” She beckoned him, doing her best to smooth down his cowlick while the door knocker sounded.
She must not have given John too stern of a glare, because he grinned at her while he ducked out of the room moments before Gemma and her wards, Petey and Eddie, entered.
After exchanging welcomes, Helena led them outside to the dining table and chairs set up on the lawn under a sycamore tree.
“What a beautiful spot,” Gemma exclaimed as they sat down.
It was indeed, boasting a clear view of the rocky tor, the pear orchard in full leaf and a grassy meadow spotted with bits of purple heather where the children could play under their watchful eyes. She’d planned a menu of simple, cold dishes suited to the children’s palates. Mama would be proud of Helena, for she had thought of everything, and everyone seemed to enjoy the food and setting.
Even Margaret. Her face glowed from the sunshine streaming through the sycamore leaves. “I love bread with black butter.”
“Me, too.” Louisa smacked her little lips.
Sweet-tart with blackberries, it tasted like summer on a spoon. Helena smeared more onto a fresh slice of bread, took a bite and shut her eyes while the tangy taste filled her mouth. Why, she could almost imagine herself young, basket over her arm, hunting berries with her sisters in the heat of full summer—
“May we play now?” Alex asked, urging Helena’s eyes open.
The children’s plates were clean, and their eyes were hopeful. She nodded and looked knowingly at Agnes as she scooped Louisa into her arms—John may have agreed to the picnic, but he still didn’t want Louisa in danger of falling. Alex bolted from his seat, followed by Petey, Eddie and Callum, who bore a purple streak of black butter on his cheek—
“A moment, Callum.” She indicated the lad’s linen serviette and then discreetly tapped her cheek.
“I’m not Callum.” He swiped the spot. “I’m Alex.”
“Then where is the freckle on your right earlobe, Alex?” The boy covered his ear with his hand, and she shook her head. “Do not attempt to fool me again, Callum.”
Eyes downcast, Callum nodded.
“You may go.”
He ran after his fellows, hollering for them to wait.
“You poor dear.” Gemma shifted, as if trying to find a more comfortable position on the wooden chair. “The twins have been tricking you?”
“A time or two. I confess I have spent the past few weeks struggling to find something that differentiates their appearances. Height, build, smile, all the same, down to their cowlicks. The only thing I’ve discovered that’s different is that mole on Alex’s earlobe. Oh, dear, did Louisa fall?”
Helena half stood. The footman Adam rushed to pull out her chair, but there was no need and she resumed her seat. “Agnes has her in hand. If she is injured today, I fear it will be a long while before we venture out of doors again. I’m hopeful today will prove once and for all that the previous Lady Ardoch’s rules should be adapted now that Louisa is older.”
Gemma’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t know her, but her anxieties must have been severe indeed to cast such a shadow.”
“I’m certain she wanted the best for the children. But they are safe and happy for the moment.”
High-pitched squeals and shouts floated on the air as the children ran in circles. Per John’s request the first day of their marriage, there were no balls that could strike Louisa, just hoops and imaginations. Louisa wriggled to be set down from Agnes’s arms, eager to join the fun, but Agnes kept her in hand. Everything was perfect—
Clank. Gemma’s fork had fallen from her fingers. Color leached from her face and she stared unseeing at the table.
Helena popped up again, Adam behind her to take the chair. “Gemma.”
Gemma’s head shook. “A moment—forgive me.” Color returned to her face and she took a steadying breath.
Helena chewed her lip. It must be the baby causing such discomfort. Helena knew nothing of these things. She never would, due to the nature of her marriage. But Gemma was a relation by marriage, and Helena was no unmarried miss anymore. Still, one didn’t speak of such things, did they? Mama never did.
I’m not Mama. Helena took Gemma’s hand. “Is it time?”
“No. They are practice pains.”
It sounded awful. “I cannot offer much, but I’m here.”
“And I’m glad.” Gemma squeezed Helena’s fingers. “Thank you for inviting us today. I know I’m supposed to be in my confinement, hidden away at home until the baby arrives, but the boys and I truly needed to be out of the house, amongst friends. Family.”
It felt odd and wonderful to be considered part of someone’s family again. Maybe God was answering Helena’s prayer for a sense of belonging, after all. Mama had said Helena was ruined beyond hope, yet hope was what filled her chest when she opened the Bible John gave her, and when Louisa snuggled against her, and now, when Gemma squeezed her hand. Mama would call it foolishness, but Helena wanted more of this hopeful feeling.
Thank you for this hope, God. For the day, too, with its warm breeze and blue skies. The children’s giggles and shouts filled the air while she and Gemma chatted.
A cry rent the warm air. Helena was on her feet before Adam could pull back her chair. “Petey tripped.”
Gemma craned her neck, her expression more thoughtful than panicked. Odd, considering Helena’s heart hammered her chest. “That is a cry of shock, but I do not think he’s hurt.”
Sure enough, the crying stopped and Petey dashed after his brother, appearing no worse for the wear. The nursemaid to Gemma’s wards offered an indulgent chuckle, and Agnes joined in. Helena’s heart returned to its proper place, but then it stopped altogether. “Where is Louisa?”
Gemma said something, but the words disintegrated in the breeze as Helena lifted the hem of her gown and hurried toward the children. “Louisa? Louisa!”
Margaret spun. “She is right here.”
But she was not.
Helena turned in a circle, searching out Louisa’s straw bonnet and white flouncy hem.
“I’ll search at once.” The footman Adam hastened toward t
he pear trees.
Helena hastened past the sycamores. How far could the little girl have wandered?
Not all that far—there she was past the sycamores, toddling over the grass, Tabitha in hand, taking sure, firm steps. Alone, except for a great shaggy bull several yards distant.
The creature didn’t belong on this part of the property, yet here it was, watching Louisa, pawing its foot.
Chapter Nine
John must have shouted Louisa’s name, must have bellowed something because his daughter stopped midstep and tipped her head. “Papa?”
Helena ran toward Louisa, but he held up his arm. Running could make everything worse. “Dinnae move!”
Helena froze, but Louisa hopped up and down. “Papa, look at me.”
“I am, lass. Hold still, now. Still as you can. There’s a bull close to you. I won’t let him hurt you, but you must stay still.” His steps were short, slow, steady so as to not agitate the bull. It was the aggressive one, easy to recognize by the black tips of its horns and enormous size. Dear Lord, how had it escaped its paddock? “Adam,” he shouted behind him. “Fetch Meeker and men. Now. Mrs. Knox, remove the children, please.”
Helena’s head swiveled, checking the movement behind her. Otherwise she remained still. “John?”
The way she said his name was full of questions. No doubt one of them was to ask why he was even here. Good thing he was. It took all his will not to glare at her, but it was far more important his gaze never leave the bull.
“When I nod, Helena, get back. Far as you can. Understand?”
“Yes.” Her voice shook.
The bull’s shaggy head twisted, the better to see her. Taking advantage of the bull’s distraction, John nodded to Helena. She stepped backward. He doubled his speed toward Louisa and scooped her into his arms. Her shrill scream reverberated in his ear.
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