Loving Helen

by Michele Paige Holmes

  “It is,” he assured her. “But other opportunities may present themselves.”

  Helen sighed heavily. “There has been ample opportunity these past months for Samuel to show interest in me, but never once—” She paused, recalling those few occasions when she’d sensed a connection between them, when it had seemed they were on the verge of crossing some invisible barrier. But we never did. “—not once has he shown interest in me as anything other than a playmate for Beth.”

  “Hmm,” Christopher said, sounding rather disinterested. “That, dear sister, is in the past. What you must do now is play your role as his fiancée convincingly. Which, I believe, you will do best if you are not play-acting at all.”

  “That is what I fear,” Helen admitted. “I will be showing my true feelings, and though the end of your scheme may see Grace happy, it is I who shall fall to pieces with a broken heart, which will have no hope of mending.”

  “Courage,” Christopher said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Allow yourself to care for Samuel, and when you fear you cannot, think of Grace. Do this for her — and for yourself.”

  “What of Samuel?” Helen asked. “How does he fit into your schemes? Isn’t being rejected by Grace punishment enough for his kindnesses to our family? Would you use him ill?”

  “I will do nothing of the sort; I promise you,” Christopher said. “I have considered all parties involved, and I pray and predict a favorable outcome for all.”

  They’d nearly reached the guesthouse, and though Helen was not entirely satisfied with the conversation, she felt no need to continue it. Christopher knew of her feelings; it appeared that Samuel did not. Christopher believed there was yet hope for all of them — Grace and Lord Sutherland … Samuel and me.

  Do I trust Christopher, the man who has always said he wanted nothing to do with marriage?

  “What do you know of all this?” Helen asked, turning to him suddenly. “In fact, how do you know of this? You’ve hardly been around of late. For a self-proclaimed eternal bachelor, you seem suddenly keen on matters of the heart.”

  “You do not give me enough credit,” Christopher said with a sly smile.

  “Perhaps not,” Helen said, mistrust in her voice. She tapped a finger against her lips. “Could it be that you are more intelligent than you appear?”

  “I am positively brilliant.” Christopher puffed his chest proudly. “When this is all done with, you will agree. Though I must confess that Miranda may have put a word or two in my ear.”

  “Miranda?” Helen glanced up at her maid’s window. “You cannot mean that she put you up to this.” If Christopher was the least likely male to be involved in a romantic scheme of any sort, Miranda was easily his female counterpart.

  “Don’t misjudge her,” Christopher said. “Miranda was once young, and she had a love affair of her own. She is not entirely unfamiliar with the yearnings of a young woman.”

  Helen felt her mouth open in surprise. The cold rushed in, stealing her breath almost as much as Christopher’s announcement had. “Miranda — was in love?”

  “Harrison told me.” Christopher ran up the porch steps ahead of her.

  “Do share,” Helen said, running after him.

  Christopher looked around furtively, as if he feared Miranda might be lurking. “It was Harrison’s brother,” Christopher whispered. “They were to be married, but then he was killed in battle during the Napoleonic wars. Afterward Harrison helped her get a position as a maid in your grandfather’s house.”

  “How long ago was this?” Helen asked.

  “Nearly twenty-five years. Long ago, but not so long that she has forgotten what it feels like to love someone. It was she who first alerted me to the possibility of a match between you and Samuel.”

  Helen leaned against the rail and tried to picture a young Miranda in love with a dashing young soldier who looked much like Harrison. “I never knew, never imagined.”

  “It’s probably best to act as if you still don’t,” Christopher advised.

  “Just one more thing for me to pretend,” Helen said, brought back to the present and her own ill-fated affair.

  Christopher shook his head. “No other pretending is necessary, remember?” He grabbed the doorknob, then looked back at her. “I should mention one more thing.”

  “Yes?” What else? She probably didn’t want to know.

  “Try being angry more often,” Christopher suggested. “It brings out a rather attractive side of you.”

  He pulled open the door and ran into the house before the scoop of snow she’d gathered from the rail could hit him.

  Samuel stomped snow from his boots and knocked briskly on the door of the guesthouse. He’d barely removed his hand when it swung open. Grace stood before him, an expectant, hopeful look on her face. Her eyes landed upon him, and Samuel watched as the hope gave way to disappointment and telltale sorrow. A few weeks earlier, he would have teased her for this reaction, would have feigned that his feelings were hurt — though at the time, there would have been some truth to that.

  But now …

  The wound caused by her rejection was healing. Somehow, even over the course of their autumn of friendship, and in spite of the hope he’d felt, he’d realized deep within himself that they were not destined to be more than friends. If he was to be honest with himself, he had to admit he’d known since the moment at his ball when Nicholas had appeared beside her.

  I likely realized it before Nicholas. And, as it appeared that his former brother-in-law still didn’t realize what he’d had, once again it was up to Samuel to show him.

  Grace’s lip quivered slightly before she forced it into a smile. “Hello, Samuel.”

  He doffed his hat and gave a slight bow. “Good morning, Grace.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it lightly.

  Her smile brightened to one more genuine. “Have you come to cheer me up? Because I am not sure that will work if we are not standing with a fence between us.”

  “I daresay you are right,” Samuel said with only the slightest hint of melancholy. He’d had that day of hope when Nicholas sent her away, the fleeting thought that Grace might yet be his, but in seeing her tearstained face and hearing her weep out her heartache the past few days, Samuel realized that was not to be. And so he tried to put aside the notion once and for all. Grace had given her heart to another. Now Samuel must do all in his power to reunite her with Nicholas.

  She stepped back and motioned for him to come inside.

  Samuel entered the cozy foyer, feeling warmth from the adjoining sitting room fire already.

  Grace closed the door behind him. “Have you found more properties for us to consider?”

  “No. Only the three, I’m afraid. The others —” He twirled his hat and sighed. “They are either too close to those who know your past, or —”

  “Or the landlords will not have us because my reputation precedes me,” Grace finished.

  “I am afraid so,” Samuel said.

  “No matter.” She patted his hand lightly. “After all, that is what I had planned for all along. What was it the poet George Herbert said? ” She brought her hand to her chin, considering. “‘I have made my bed, and now must lie in it.’ Or something of that sort.” She frowned. “Though, in this instance, that is a rather bad pun, considering the bed I ended up in.”

  Samuel noted the lack of humor in her voice. “I’m glad to see you’re up to quoting literature again, at least — a sure sign of improvement. I think a different line of Herbert’s is more fitting: ‘He that hath love in his breast, hath spurs in his sides.’”

  “And everywhere else,” Grace muttered. She wrung her hands suddenly. “Oh, Samuel, what am I to do? I never thought I could live with Nicholas, and now it seems I cannot live without him.” She folded her arms across her middle, as if attempting to hold in her pain.

  He took a step closer to her. “Do not despair.” Simple, empty words — words he’d heard often enough from others in the
weeks following Elizabeth’s death. “Time —” He could not bring himself to say that time would heal her wound. He knew well enough it likely would not. Instead, he needed to focus on setting the situation right.

  “I am afraid books are my only solace,” Grace said. “And even they cannot seem to transport me from sorrow as they once did.” She sighed heavily. “But enough of that. Here you stand, yet I’ve not even invited you for tea.”

  “I cannot stay.” Samuel glanced about the foyer. “You are not alone, are you?” Surely her siblings and servants both understood the need for Grace to have company at all times right now. When Elizabeth died he had borne his grief alone. And it had not been good. “Are Miranda and Harrison not here?”

  “Harrison is meeting with Christopher to prepare for our journey. We mean to make a decision quickly and be gone as soon as possible.”

  “There is no rush. You are no trouble here,” Samuel hurried to assure her, though he guessed her real reason for wanting to leave. Being so close to Nicholas, yet not being with him, had to be difficult.

  “Thank you, Samuel,” Grace said. “Your generosity knows no bounds. But being here now troubles me. It will be better when we are all settled elsewhere and can begin anew.”

  That wouldn’t do. How they could possibly hope to reunite Nicholas and Grace if she left the province? Samuel chose his words with care. “You do realize that no matter how far away you go, your heart — or part of it — will remain here.” He glanced out the window in the direction of Sutherland Hall. “Or rather, there. Troubles of the heart follow anywhere you go.”

  Her eyes narrowed, “Who said that?”

  “I did.” Samuel shrugged. I am starting to sound rather wise — somewhat like Helen. “No doubt I read something similar in a book once. But I speak from experience.” Instead of reaching out to take her hands to offer comfort as he had so many times before, he shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets. “After Beth was born, I went to London and thought to never return. I believed that by staying away from the place that held Elizabeth’s memories, life would be easier. I didn’t wish to smell her roses or hear her pianoforte or see her horse in the stables. I told myself it would be easiest to pretend that my life with her had not happened.”

  “But you had your daughter,” Grace said.

  “Yes. Beth was so like her mother from the time she was an infant. But she was not what brought me back. Instead of feeling less grief in London, I felt more. I had to return here to make peace with the past. If I was to go on with my life, I had to confront my memories — good and bad.”

  “You are still confronting some of them,” Grace said.

  “Yes,” Samuel agreed, remembering the day he’d told her how Elizabeth had died in childbirth, and how — as a physician — he still felt responsible. “But I do know some peace. And it is because I dared to face the past.”

  “It is different for me.” Grace turned away. “The man I love is not dead. It is not a grave I dread visiting, but seeing the very man himself. I do not think I could bear it. So I must leave.”

  “I will be sorry to see you go,” Samuel said.

  They stood silently for a minute, Samuel staring at her back and wondering at the charade he had come here to begin. Was it even worth attempting? Was there any possibility it could work? He didn’t see how, if Grace was determined to leave so soon.

  Movement at the top of the stairs caught his eye; a flash of blue skirted out of sight. Helen. Had she overheard any of his conversation with Grace? If so, what did she think? He supposed, at the least, he ought to proceed with their plan for this morning.

  Samuel cleared his throat. “Is Helen here?”

  Grace turned to face him, brushing hastily at her wet cheeks.

  He checked the impulse to step forward and offer comfort. Would this entire thing not be easier settled were I to seek out Nicholas and perhaps knock some sense into him? Unlike his former brother-in-law, Samuel was not usually given to violence. But seeing Grace’s tear-filled eyes made him keenly desire the opportunity for a solid punch to Nicholas’s jaw.

  “You are here to see Helen?” Grace said, bringing him back to the room and the task at hand. “Yes, of course.” Her brow furrowed slightly as she gave him a peculiar look. “Is she expecting you?”

  “I hope so,” Samuel said, forcing a smile.

  Though it may be easier if she is not — if, over the course of the last two days, she has decided she wants no part of this ridiculous scheme.

  Grace moved toward the stairs at the same moment Helen appeared at the top. Head bowed as she customarily held it, she began her descent, a sapphire-blue cloak swishing about her ankles. She reached the bottom, paused, then looked up at the two of them, wearing a dazzling smile.

  “Good morning, Grace. Hello, Mr. Preston.”

  Samuel took her gloved hand and kissed the back of it, lingering a few seconds longer than necessary, enough to enjoy the sweet scent of whatever perfume she wore.

  “You look quite lovely this morning,” he said, finding it very true. Complimenting her on her appearance was easy. Helen was a beautiful young woman, perhaps never more so than this morning. Her golden curls were swept back from her face and held with a set of glittering sapphire combs that matched her cloak, the gown beneath it, and especially her eyes — eyes that seemed to sparkle with a joy he hadn’t before seen in them.

  He was impressed with her acting already.

  “Are you two going somewhere?” Grace asked, looking from one to the other uncertainly.

  “I have been invited to play,” Helen said, laughter in her voice. “By Beth. It has been our habit for some time now.”

  “And I have come to escort Helen across the snowy lane,” Samuel said.

  “Aren’t you dressed a bit — formally — for play?” Grace asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

  “Beth is quite particular about her playmates,” Samuel cut in. “She insists upon best dress and manners in the nursery.” He winked at Helen and watched a blush steal across her face. “Shall we be off?” With a twinge of guilt, he held his arm out to her. It didn’t feel right to be so jolly — or to be pretending at being so jolly — in front of Grace right now. As Helen placed her hand upon his arm, he reminded himself of their worthy cause.

  “I’ll be back in a few hours,” Helen said, waving to her sister.

  Samuel nodded. “Good day, Grace. I hope you find some peace in it.”

  “Perhaps I shall,” she said, a curious expression on her face as Samuel turned from her and guided Helen to the front door.

  He replaced his hat, and outside they walked in silence beyond the narrow drive and out of view of the guesthouse windows. Still Helen kept her hand on his arm. She had not acted uncomfortable with their closeness, and he wondered at this, given her skittishness on previous occasions. He considered telling her that she needn’t continue holding onto him but then thought better of it. If they were to convince others of their betrothal she needed to get used to touching him. Besides, he did not wish her to fall on the slippery ground. He hadn’t come to fetch her to play with Beth before, but he should have. He frowned, feeling rather appalled by his apparent lack of concern for a lady who had been in his care. The idea that he had neglected his guest so did not sit well.

  Using his free hand, Samuel withdrew a folded piece of paper from his pocket, then shook it open. “Christopher suggested we begin with this list of things that we should know about each other. It seems he doesn’t have much confidence in my courting abilities.”

  “It isn’t you he’s worried about,” Helen said. “I’ve never done any courting before — or rather, no one has ever courted me.” Her voice quieted with the admission.

  “At your choosing, however. Is that not so?” Samuel asked, glancing at her. “I thought that you did not like attending balls, or even being out in public at all.”

  “It is partially my choosing,” Helen said.

  “Only partially?” His brows r
ose. “You do like going out? Or perhaps … Was there was someone you wished to be courted by?”

  “Perhaps once.” She waved her hand dismissively —

  What? His curiosity was piqued. Was she so disbelieving of the idea that someone might find her attractive? That she felt so little confidence in herself bothered him.

  “I was not speaking of simply a desire to be courted. What I meant was that it is not of my choosing to be — afraid of men.” She kept her gaze straight ahead as she spoke, as if focused intently on the path.

  “You wish that you were not shy?” Samuel asked.

  “I am not shy — truly,” she added. He leaned closer to better see her, a questioning, skeptical look upon his face.

  “Ask Grace and Christopher or Miranda and Harrison,” she said. “Ask your daughter.”

  “Those are all people you know well,” Samuel said. “It is one thing to be comfortable with family and friends, but you are shy with all else — even with me, somewhat, and I have known you more than three months.”

  “You are a man.”

  He barked a short laugh, then tried to cover it with a cough. “I am glad you’ve noticed. We shall call this lesson one in courtship: the lady must take note of a man.”

  Samuel was beginning to see the wisdom of Christopher’s list. Best to follow his advice. He knows his sisters much better than I.

  “You are mocking me.” Helen stopped walking and faced him, her hand slipping from his arm.

  “No — yes,” he admitted. “Perhaps a little.” He winced at the admission as she moved beyond his reach.

  “I did not intend to tease,” he said. “It was the way you said man. As if I were a disease.”

  A hint of a smile formed on Helen’s pretty mouth. “In my defense, most of the men I’ve met are.”

  Samuel laughed again, and this time she joined him. It was a lovely sound, and hearing it made his heart feel surprisingly light.

  “My dear Helen.” He scratched the side of his head. “It would seem that you have not become acquainted with the right sort of men. A few of us are decent fellows.”