Helena’s eyes filled with concern. ‘Oh, Mr Corrigan!’ she exclaimed, her tender heart aching with pity for his undeserved plight. ‘I’m so very sorry! I do wish I could find something for you.’
‘You good ladies already do more than enough for the likes of us chaps,’ he said gruffly, before hurriedly turning away to hide his embarrassment at having almost allowed his emotions to get the better of him.
Along with a good many other members of the sisterhood, Helena was of the opinion that not nearly enough was being done, by either the government or any of those institutions who, it was felt, might easily have sought to involve themselves in the plight of these sadly neglected returning heroes. It was little wonder, she thought, that so many of their number had formed themselves into troublemaking bands who seemed to have little better to do with their time than roam the countryside stirring up resentment and unrest amongst the local workers.
Well aware that, since she was a mere woman—whose opinions held no sway whatsoever—there was nothing she could do to alter this highly unsatisfactory state of affairs, Helena let out a soft sigh and, picking up a carving knife, turned her attention to slicing one of the many loaves of bread into hefty-sized chunks, this being her allotted task for the day.
Jenny, hearing the sigh, was momentarily sidetracked from her own occupation of piling the bread chunks into one of the emptied baskets, ready for the doling out that was due to start at any minute.
‘I hope that sigh doesn’t signal that this work is beginning to bore you, Helena,’ she said, casting an anxious look at her young friend.
‘Good heavens, no!’ protested Helena. ‘I was merely thinking how unfair everything is.’
‘Not everything, surely,’ laughed Jenny. ‘From what Lottie has been telling me, you and she would seem to have been leading a rather exciting life these past few days!’
‘Hectic, perhaps,’ Helena admitted, with a slight shrug. ‘But exciting, no—I wouldn’t have said so.’ Then, pausing, she eyed her friend thoughtfully. ‘However, that has put me in mind of something that I wanted to ask you—that is—’ Colouring, she bent her head back to her work. ‘Something rather odd occurred last evening and I was wondering whether you might be able to throw any light on the matter.’
‘Fire away, then,’ returned Jenny, her natural curiosity immediately aroused.
In a decidedly hesitant manner, Helena, her cheeks flushing rosily, managed to relay the somewhat puzzling events of the previous evening. At the end of her discourse, she looked across at the other girl questioningly, only to find her friend staring back at her with a rather quizzical expression on her face.
‘Her ladyship seemed keen to have me believe that such—er, activities—were quite commonplace among members of the opposite sex,’ she went on, hurriedly. ‘But, I find it hard to believe that gentlemen such as my father or your brother could ever indulge in such practices!’
Shaking her head, Jenny gave her a rueful smile. ‘They would hardly make us privy to such information even if they did, my dear,’ she said kindly. ‘I myself have learned that the way gentlemen conduct themselves when out of sight of their nearest and dearest can often be very far removed from the behaviour we normally expect of them—“deceivers ever”, as the bard was wont to say!’
Helena’s eyes widened. ‘You cannot be referring to Doctor Redfern, surely?’
‘Thomas?’ mused Jenny, with a hesitant frown. ‘Difficult to tell, as it happens. Although I doubt if he could spare either the time or the energy for that sort of amusement, his appointments book being as crowded as it is these days. One cannot be sure, of course, for he is a man, after all is said and done! But, that apart, it surely can’t have escaped your notice that his sights are set in quite a different direction!’
‘I’m afraid I don’t follow you,’ returned Helena, looking puzzled.
‘You mean you haven’t noticed?’ asked Jenny, with a surprised lift of her eyebrows. Pausing momentarily to dust the flour from her fingers before moving across to the soup table to begin the lengthy business of serving the waiting throng, she cast her friend a swift sideways glance, then gave a rueful grimace. ‘Oh, dear! There I go again! Letting my over-active imagination run away with me, as usual. Pay no attention, I beg you!’
Considerably confused as to the meaning behind Jenny’s enigmatic remark, Helena was finding it difficult to concentrate on her work. Could his sister have been trying to intimate that Dr Redfern had formed some sort of tendre for her? she thought, as she distractedly sliced away at the crusty loaf in front of her. As though she didn’t have more than enough complications in her life already! What with the constant worry over her father’s illness, coupled with her own very mixed emotions in regard to Markfield, the mere hint of such an unwelcome situation developing involved her mind to such a degree that it was only when Lottie, who was piling loaves on to the table beside her, pointed out that the size of her bread chunks seemed to be increasing rather dramatically that she was hurriedly obliged to return her attention to the job in hand. Nevertheless, unable to ignore the fact that, this morning being a Wednesday, was also the day on which the doctor chose to attend his makeshift surgery in the inn across the alley, Helena could only hope that she had misunderstood her friend, since she was uncomfortably aware that for her to allow such a situation to develop would inevitably bring about not only the loss of her father’s physician but also signal the end of what had been, hitherto, a most enjoyable and easy-going relationship between Jenny Redfern and herself.
It had been only very recently that the doctor, now highly sought after amongst the ton, had elected to neglect his upper-class clientele for a few hours each week, in order to utilise some of the valuable skills he had acquired during his time with the military, for the benefit of those who were a good deal less fortunate than his usual high-society patients. For this purpose, he had hired one of the small ante-rooms at the Swallow Inn opposite and, every Wednesday morning, now spent his time diagnosing symptoms, binding up injuries and dispensing helpful advice, along with copious quantities of free medication, some of which, he could not help feeling on occasion, were used for purposes other than that for which he had prescribed them. On the whole, however, his services were greatly appreciated by the countless number of grateful patients who queued outside his makeshift clinic every Wednesday morning for, without his selfless dedication, there was little doubt that a good many of them—the children in particular—might well have perished long ago.
At the end of each session, it had become his practice to join his sister and her friends at the chapel in order to assist them in their clearing-up exercise.
Fortunately, for Helena’s peace of mind, the pressing needs of her allotted tasks proved more than adequate to prevent her dwelling further upon Jenny’s puzzling words.
Consequently, it was not until some three hours later that, looking up from her final task of wiping down her table top, she was unable to prevent the slight flash of disquiet that ran through her when she beheld Redfern’s cheerful visage grinning at her through the bars of the opening.
‘Another busy morning, I see!’ he called as, edging his way past the trestle at the doorway, he entered the basement. ‘Word seems to be spreading. I would say that the queue was a good deal longer today!’
‘You could be right,’ sighed his sister. ‘If they keep coming at this rate, we will soon be forced to look for larger premises.’
‘Somewhere in the same vicinity, I trust?’ interjected Redfern, somewhat uneasily, as he shot a quick glance over to where Helena and Lottie were busily engaged in stacking up the empty bread baskets, ready for collection.
Following the direction of his eyes, Jenny could not help smiling. ‘We’ll need to raise a good deal more money before we can even begin to contemplate such a move,’ she pointed out, eager to reassure her brother that his weekly tête-à-têtes were not about to be suddenly nipped in the bud.
With a satisfied nod, Redfern made his
way over to the other two girls to bid them good day.
Having viewed his appearance with some misgivings, Helena was thankful to find that, after a polite but sincere enquiry as to her father’s health, the bulk of Redfern’s conversation appeared to consist of a number of humorous anecdotes relating to the various eccentricities of some of his tonnish patients. Contrary to what she had expected, in view of his sister’s comment, she was unable to discern any appreciable change in his manner towards herself, leading her to reach the conclusion that her normally rather astute friend Jenny had entirely misread the situation.
In no time at all, she found herself back to chuckling away at his droll tales in much the same manner as she had always done and, as she smilingly watched him divest himself of his jacket and roll up his sleeves in order to take over the heavier aspects of the clearing-up operation, she could only breathe a huge sigh of relief, happy in the knowledge that everything seemed to be exactly as it had always been.
His current set of anecdotes having run out, Dr Redfern then turned the topic to discussing the countess’s soirée of the previous week and was soon genially enquiring as to whether Helena and her cousin were enjoying their current foray into high society.
‘Have they told you that they are off to Almack’s this evening?’ put in Jenny as, having completed her tasks for the morning, she joined the group where, turning to her brother, she enquired, ‘Didn’t you once mention that Mrs Drummond-Burrell had offered you vouchers should Mama and I wish to attend? Is it possible that the offer is still open, do you suppose?’
At her words, Lottie’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, do you think you might be able to come along, too?’ she cried. ‘I do wish you could. I find it really difficult to be among so many strangers all the time—do try to persuade them to join us, Nell!’ she cajoled her cousin.
‘The more the merrier, as far as I’m concerned,’ returned Helena, who had been viewing the prospect of having to spend yet another evening in Markfield’s decidedly non-communicative company with very mixed feelings, particularly after the highly unsettling events of the previous evening.
‘Oh, do say we can, Thomas,’ begged his sister. ‘We had such fun last Friday!’
‘Oh, I dare say I might manage to arrange something,’ beamed Redfern, after scarcely a moment’s thought. ‘As it happens, I have been treating Lord Cowper for a stomach upset—merely a severe over-indulgence of cream pastries, in point of fact—and his wife has also offered to acquire vouchers for me, should I ever be in need of them. Perhaps we might pay a call on her ladyship on our way home to see if the offer still stands?’
It being agreed that the Redferns would do their level best to put in an appearance at the exclusive King Street venue later that evening, the girls collected their bonnets and, after waiting for his sister to lock the door to the basement chapel, the doctor then escorted her and her friends to Cheyne Walk, where their carriages awaited them.
‘I’m so glad that you managed to persuade the Redferns to join us this evening,’ said Lottie, as she settled herself against the comfortable squabs of the Wheatley carriage. ‘I must confess that I was feeling quite nervous at the thought of attending this famous assembly hall. Having read so much about it in the Ladies’ Magazine, just the idea of putting a foot wrong under the watchful eyes of those dreadful Patroness ladies has been worrying me to death! Hopefully, the doctor will be able to obtain his vouchers and then we shall, at least, be amongst friends.’
‘Given that Lady Jersey remembers to send ours to the countess,’ replied Helena with a light laugh, although she was secretly hoping that the promise to do so might have slipped her ladyship’s mind. Quite apart from being obliged to ‘run the gauntlet’ of supercilious criticism she had heard so much about, there was now the added complication of Thomas Redfern who, despite what Lottie had said, had needed neither persuasion nor encouragement to join them. In fact, unless she was much mistaken, he had accepted the invitation with rather more alacrity than she cared to think about!
Chapter Twelve
As luck would have it, the promised vouchers arrived without mishap and Lady Isobel’s barouche arrived at eight on the dot as arranged. The famed assembly rooms, however, proved to be something of a let-down as far as the wide-eyed Lottie was concerned for, although they were even more crowded than either she or Helena had expected, they were also a good deal shabbier than they had been given to suppose.
‘Why on earth is there such a clamour to get on to the subscription list?’ whispered Lottie, as her astonished eyes took in the faded curtains and the peeling plaster that adorned the pillars.
‘Simply because of its exclusivity, my dear!’ retorted Lady Isobel, whose sharp ears had caught her remark. ‘You should think yourself very lucky to be here, you know, for the Patronesses are very particular about whom they allow in. The membership rules are very rigid and should anyone dare to flout them they would very likely find themselves banished for life! Now, the first thing we have to do is present ourselves to the committee. There is no need for you to say anything—I will speak for you—just curtsy and smile and you will both do very nicely!’
Blanching with fright, Lottie clutched at her cousin’s arm. ‘Oh, Nell! It is far worse than I expected! I do wish I hadn’t come!’
But Helena merely smiled and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze, since she was privately of the opinion that all this pompous rigmarole was nothing more than inflated snobbery on the part of its originators. Squaring her shoulders, she applied her mind to trying to keep up with the countess, which, given that they were being jostled on all sides, was not the easiest thing to do.
Luckily, both Markfield and Standish, who had been waylaid at the entrance by Mr Willis, the Master of Ceremonies, with a courteous reminder that no subscriptions had yet been received for their party, soon managed to shoulder their way through the press of people to clear a path for them. With their assistance, the ladies very quickly found themselves standing in front of the raised podium where five of the Patronesses were seated.
As he stepped forwards to perform the introductions, Lady Jersey greeted Richard with a welcoming smile.
‘Good evening, your lordship,’ she cried merrily. ‘I am so glad you decided to join us this evening—eligible gentlemen such as yourself and Mr Standish are getting to be rather a diminishing commodity these days! ’
Since he was not at all sure that he cared to be referred to as a commodity of any sort, diminishing or otherwise, the earl merely bent his head over her ladyship’s hand. He was well aware that the main reason the current batch of unwed males tended to avoid putting in an appearance at Almack’s was—apart from a natural preference for entertainments of a more lively sort—due to a concerted determination to steer clear of the highly dedicated matchmaking tendencies of its committee. Especially since these tendencies were also the common factor that brought droves of overly ambitious mothers, along with their fresh-out-of-the-schoolroom daughters, into the capital at the start of every Season. Not for nothing were the assembly rooms mockingly referred to as ‘The Marriage Mart’ by the town’s young dandies!
Thanking providence that his grandmother had gone to considerable trouble to set in motion the rumour that he was already spoken for, Richard stood to one side while the rest of the committee cast its fastidious and unforgiving eyes over its newest members. From what he had, thus far, managed to learn about Helena’s attitude to the so-called belle monde, it would not have surprised him to learn that she was probably viewing the whole procedure with a feeling bordering on disdain—a feeling that he was obliged to concede that, at this moment, was not entirely dissimilar to his own. Shooting her a swift sidelong glance, as she executed the most elegant curtsy, he was unable to suppress the sudden longing that filled his heart. Dressed in a stunningly simple tunic-style gown of the palest peach-coloured satin that seemed to mould itself to her curves, Helena, her expression unreadable, now stood proudly erect as she waited for the Patronesses’ to reach
their verdict.
Clenching his jaw, Richard inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of his heart whilst, at the same time, doing his utmost to convince himself that these inexplicable emotions that beset him whenever he was anywhere near her were just part and parcel of the normal virile male response when confronted with such loveliness. A state of affairs that a brisk gallop and a cold shower usually took care of but, since he had practically ridden his horse into the ground shortly after dawn that morning, in addition to having swum across the Thames and back at a secluded spot near Hampton Wick, it would seem that these tried-and-tested remedies were, given the present wayward reaction of certain parts of his anatomy, meeting with a singular lack of success!
The sharp dig of his grandmother’s elbow in his arm snapped him back to reality. Starting, he became aware that all five ladies on the podium were looking directly at him, as though they expected something from him. Conscious that he had been so wrapped up in his reverie that he had failed to pay attention to what had been going on around him, a slight flush stained his cheeks as he looked down at his grandmother, his eyes mutely questioning.
‘They’re waiting for you to ask for permission to dance with Helena,’ she hissed, the beginnings of an embarrassed flush on her face.
His brow clearing, Richard stepped forwards and, with his usual grace and style, performed the required ritual, whereupon each of the ladies in turn did him the honour of nodding their agreement to his request.
‘And, in addition, you may also have our permission to dance with any of the young ladies to whom Mr Willis chooses to introduce you,’ said Lady Jersey, as she favoured him and his cousin with the full radiance of her smile.
‘Well, thank the lord that’s over!’ muttered Charles, as soon as they were out of earshot of the podium. ‘Reminded me of being sent before the beak at Eton! I could almost hear my knees knocking together!’
A Marriageable Miss Page 14