by Jade Lee
It worked. The butler sighed and gestured her inside. From there it was a simple matter to smile up at the lady of the household, who was just now descending the stairs. Her name was Mrs. Knopp, and she was Irene’s mother-in-law. She was also everything that the ton liked to decry as an encroaching cit. She was large and loud and much too wealthy.
Five years ago, Helaine would have noticed only that much and looked no deeper. But she was wiser now and took the time to see other small details about the woman. Her mourning dress was done in the most expensive fabric and style, so the household suffered no financial strain. But there was a great deal of strain in the lady’s eyes and her slightly forced gestures. Despite the woman’s bright smile, Helaine could see a sadness about her, as if a mantle of pain weighed her down.
It was grief, of course. The woman had lost her only son. Still, her voice was strong enough as she peered down at Helaine.
“Smithee! Who have we here?”
The butler responded in sneering tones. “She claims to be an old school friend of Lady Irene.”
“Really?” A gleam of interest sparked in Mrs. Knopp’s eyes. She rushed down the last few steps to Helaine’s side. “A school friend, you say? Oh, it shall be ever so excellent for Irene to see you. She has been so withdrawn. She needs an old friend to bring her out of her room, take her shopping and the like. Maybe to a party or two. It’s perfectly acceptable, you know, though she’s not out of mourning yet. But a party or something, one where her dearest mama could remain at her side.”
Irene’s “dearest mama” was Mrs. Knopp. Irene’s real mother had passed on more than a decade before. Obviously the cit had hopes that Irene would bring the family access to the upper echelons of the ton. And Irene’s father had resurrected the ancient practice of a bride price so that the earldom would be well compensated for Irene’s sacrifice in marrying down.
Helaine smiled as warmly as she dared without raising the lady’s hopes. “I don’t attend many parties these days, Mrs. Knopp, but I should dearly love to talk to Irene for a bit to see how she fares. We used to be good friends.”
Mrs. Knopp took the slight well, nodding as if she expected no less. “Well, I must say the visit is most excellent nonetheless. Smithee, go tell Irene she has a friend here and order tea. We shall settle in for a nice chat in the salon.”
“I am right here,” returned a quiet, delicate voice. It was Irene, gliding down the hallway from the back of the house. “There is no need—Helaine! Is that you?”
Helaine felt her breath release at the warmth in her friend’s voice. She had not been certain of her welcome. After all, Irene had merely married a cit. Helaine’s fall had been much, much deeper.
“Yes, Irene, it’s me. Will you let me sit with you for a while? I have missed our late-night whispers.”
Helaine saw it all flash through her friend’s expression. The memory of why they had stopped communicating. Of all that had passed in the intervening years. As girls they had bonded over poverty, both understanding the silent misery of having titled fathers who were perpetually broke. Helaine’s disgrace had come first, but Irene had been pulled from school soon afterward because her father couldn’t pay her tuition. And neither of them had seen each other since.
A million expressions flitted through Irene’s face, but none settled long. And then her once best friend sighed and looked at her hands. “Wouldn’t it be lovely to return to our beds back at school? To whisper about the new cook—”
“And her terrible cherry tarts!” Helaine felt a laugh bubble up from nowhere, free and lighthearted, as she hadn’t felt in so very long. “And how I shall never learn to darn socks!”
Irene smiled, bringing a softness to a face too harsh with angles. “You did have a terrible hand.”
“Still do, to tell the truth,” she said.
“And I still cannot manage to dress my hair in anything but a straight braid.” Irene gestured to the long thick cord of black hair that fell down her back.
They waited there a moment, both standing in the hallway staring at one another. Helaine had the impulse to hug her friend, and yet she didn’t dare. By society’s rules, that would be much too presumptuous. And Irene, too, looked uncomfortable.
It was Mrs. Knopp who rescued them, half escorting, half dragging Helaine into the front salon. “Come, come, we can’t be gadding about in the hallway. Come into the parlor. Smithee! Tea, right away. And do we have any tasty tarts for Irene’s dear friend?”
The butler bowed with a touch less doubt in his expression. “Right away, madam.” Then he departed while the three women settled in the opulent salon.
But then once again an awkward silence descended. Once, she and Irene could not stop talking to one another. But now, they both stared at their hands. Helaine felt most awkward of all because she could not broach her business proposal with Mrs. Knopp right there. But neither could she ask to take a tour about the gardens or whatnot. Not after tea and tarts had been summoned.
Again it was Mrs. Knopp who came to the rescue. She asked about their friendship at school, about the terrible tarts, and then—of course—about her family. Helaine answered truthfully, identifying her father as the Earl of Chelmorton. Nothing would come of hiding it, but then a miracle happened! Mrs. Knopp did not know of her father’s terrible crime. She did not speak to Helaine as if she were the daughter of the Thief of the Ton. She merely pressed to discover whether or not Helaine was married and if there was much good husband hunting in London now before the Season began.
It was all quite lovely, and so very normal as to be abnormal. She had not had a conversation like this in years and Irene was kind enough not to spoil it. But then the time for an afternoon visit passed. Half an hour. Forty-five minutes. Soon it would be an hour, and she could not stay longer. She had to speak to Irene alone.
She began with the most casual of inquiries. “You have such a lovely home. Does it have a back garden as well?”
“Oh, lawks, no,” squealed Mrs. Knopp. “I daresay that Irene misses the gardens and the dirt, but I can’t say as I do. I was born and grown in London. It’s the fresh air that makes me cough!”
“But there is a park,” said Irene in a quiet voice. It was disconcerting. As a girl, Irene could be amazingly shrill, but now she was beyond subdued. One might even suggest cowed. “I was thinking of going there just when you called. Would you like to join me?”
Helaine smiled her gratitude. Irene had always known just when Helaine wished to be private. “That would be lovely.”
Mrs. Knopp laughed too loudly. “I am afraid I will not join you on Irene’s constitutional. She looks frail, to be sure, but she has the devil’s own stride!”
It worked out better than expected. While Irene left to change her clothes, Helaine was able to get Mrs. Knopp talking about her husband’s business. As was true of many cits, she had a basic understanding of her husband’s line of work, and was rather proud of him to boot. Helaine learned that the Knopp Family Shipping Company was extensive indeed. Better and better. And then Irene came back, they stepped outside, and suddenly everything changed.
Irene was sick. Helaine couldn’t be sure why she hadn’t seen it before. Perhaps it was because the lighting was never very bright inside London homes. But the moment they stepped outside into the brilliant sunshine, Helaine had to struggle to suppress her shock. Irene’s skin was so pale as to be virtually translucent. And she was so thin as to be gaunt.
“Oh, Irene, is Mrs. Knopp so very terrible? She seemed rather nice in a loud sort of way.”
Irene turned, her eyes widening in surprise. “What? Oh, no, she is quite sweet.”
“So you are happy living there?” That was a rather blunt way to put it, but the question needed to be asked. For a multitude of reasons.
Irene merely shrugged, her face averted as they wandered down the lane. “I suppose I am as happy here as I would be anywhere.” She paused and flashed Helaine a mischievous look that so resembled the girl she used
to be. “And the food is much better than anything I had at home or at school.”
“But do you eat it?” The words were out before Helaine could stop herself.
“What?” Irene asked, her expression slipping back to vague. “Of course I eat.”
They turned a corner and, far ahead, Helaine could see the park. Despite what Mrs. Knopp had said earlier, Helaine wondered if Irene could make it so far a distance.
“Irene,” she said softly, putting a hand on her friend’s arm, “forgive me, but are you well?”
Irene slowed, obviously reluctantly. “I am tired all the time,” she finally confessed. “And I weep at the strangest things. A sound. A smell. I know it is grief. I know that it has become a danger to my health. I know it, and yet…” She shook her head. “I cannot seem to stop it.”
“Grief?” Helaine asked. “For your father?” Irene’s father had died a bit more than a year ago, but there hadn’t been much love between them. “Or perhaps you grieve what might have been,” she said, her thoughts turning to her own life. “I often wonder what would have become of me if my father hadn’t been…well, if he hadn’t been such an incredible idiot.”
Irene’s smile was wistful, but there was a tautness in her body that felt almost like anger. And her hands were clenched so tightly it was a wonder no bones broke.
“Irene?”
“I grieve for Jeremy,” she said, her words almost clipped. And right there, Helaine saw a flash of the girl who used to be. The one who would sometimes rant about injustice and the cruelty of having a father who lived solely to hunt and eat. “I grieve for my husband and the life we never had.”
“Oh!” cried Helaine, her face flooding with mortification. How ridiculous that she had never suspected such a thing. “But the nature of your engagement…the things that were said…I was well out of the social round by then, but even I heard.” She bit her lip, trying to stop the flood of words. “I beg your pardon, Irene. I cannot think how stupid I sound. Please, please, forgive me.”
Irene released a soft sigh, then began walking again toward the park. Her steps were fast, as if she were outrunning some demon, but then she tired and once again returned to a pace that Helaine could easily match.
“I know what was said about us,” Irene said. “How Papa made Jeremy pay a bride price for me. About how terrible he was to sell me to the highest bidder. It wasn’t true, you know. It was never true. But I let them say it because it was the only way Papa would let us marry.”
“You loved him!” The words came out as a kind of shocked exhale.
Irene lifted her face to the sun. “I was so angry, and he made me laugh. He called me beautiful and brought me treats.” She glanced at Helaine. “No one had ever brought me treats except for you and you were gone.”
Now it was Helaine’s turn to look away. The less said about her departure the better.
“Yes, I loved him. But he had to go on that damned boat. He had to prove himself a seaman and a captain.”
Helaine glanced at her friend’s face. “Was he very bad at it?”
“Oh, no. He was very good, but even a good man can die at sea. They said there were pirates, but Jeremy rallied the crew and fought them off. But he was wounded and grew ill. They even cut off his arm to try and save him, but it was too late.”
“Oh, my God,” Helaine whispered. “How horrible!”
“We learned of it ten months ago, but he was three months at sea before that. So a year has passed since I last saw him. A year since he held me in his arms. A year since…” Her voice broke and she rushed forward. They were near enough to the park now for her to reach a bench. Irene half stumbled, half collapsed onto the seat. But then she just sat there, her eyes gazing off at a nanny pushing a pram.
“Oh, Irene, was there a baby?”
She shook her head. “No child. And sometimes I wonder if that is a blessing. I do not know that I could care for a child.”
“Of course you could,” Helaine said firmly. “There is a strength that appears when one most needs it.”
Irene’s gaze shifted to Helaine. “Do you think so?”
“Of course I do.” It was a ridiculous discussion since there hadn’t been a babe. Still, Irene seemed to take comfort in it. Sadly, it put paid to any hope that Helaine had of success in her mission. She could not ask a grieving woman to set everything aside and…well, and become even lower than a woman who had married a cit for love.
So she sat there with her once best friend and looked at the nannies and their charges. They stayed there for nearly a half hour when Irene abruptly shook herself out of her reverie.
“Come now, out with it. What did you want to ask me?”
Helaine started guiltily. “I’m sorry?”
“Don’t try to hide, Helaine. You forget that I watched you hide that shrew Claudia’s socks. You didn’t come visit me on a whim. You have something to ask.”
Helaine lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “I came to make an offer to a desperate woman trapped in an unhappy home. I was wrong to assume such a thing, and I deeply apologize.”
“But you weren’t entirely wrong. I am unhappy. Just not for the reasons you assumed.”
“Either way—”
“Either way, you shall ask me what you came to ask. And then we shall see what is to be made of it.”
Helaine nodded. In truth, she had no other choice if she wanted to avoid the poorhouse. And yet it was so desperately hard to confess. How did one explain her choices to a woman who had fallen in love and married into wealth?
“Come, come, Helaine. It can’t be so hard. I already know about your father’s sins.”
“But not my own.”
Irene merely raised her eyebrows in query. In the end, Helaine gave in.
“Do you know what I became after my father died?”
Chapter 2
Helaine took a deep breath. Might as well confess it all at once.
“I’m a shopkeeper, Irene. I own a dress shop, or at least half of it. Or almost half. Never mind, the particulars don’t matter. The point is that I design clothing, Irene. And my partner sews them. I am a tradeswoman and…” She looked up into her friend’s eyes, trying to express the amazement she felt at her next words. “And I absolutely love it.”
Irene’s mouth dropped open, the shock obvious. “I just assumed you had married or something.”
Helaine laughed, though the sound was strained. “Well, that is the usual course of things, isn’t it? And I had offers, too, but not for marriage.” She saw understanding flash through Irene’s eyes.
“Yes, I know the type of man who comes calling when a titled girl is in trouble.”
Helaine dared touch her friend’s hand. “But you found love. For a time at least.”
Irene’s expression grew wistful. “Yes, for a marvelous time.” Then she straightened to frown back at Helaine. “But we are speaking of you. Do you really own a dressmaker’s shop?”
“Yes. It’s called A Lady’s Favor and it’s not too far off Bond Street. I go by Mrs. Mortimer there.”
“Really?” Irene tilted her head. “I cannot imagine you as a Mortimer.”
Helaine smiled. “My mother was fond of bemoaning how mortified she was at what I was doing. Mortified, mortified, mortified! I took the name Mortimer to tweak her.”
“And did it?”
“Definitely. But now I am stuck with it.”
“Ah.” There was something in the way she said the word that caused Helaine some concern. And then Irene’s hands began to knot in the folds of her skirt. “You have come to ask me to frequent your shop, haven’t you? I would, of course. Your ideas were always quite innovative even back at school—”
“Oh, no! Not those silly—”
“But you see, my mother-in-law insists on the most fashionable modiste. Silly woman, actually—the modiste, not my mother-in-law, though I suppose her, too, in some ways. In any event, she would be most upset if I transferred—”
“I
’m not asking for your patronage, Irene!” Helaine’s voice came out louder than she intended. The idea that she would come begging her old friends for their business was beyond humiliating. “We have clients aplenty!” she lied. And damn it, her friend knew she was lying. She always had.
“Do you, Helaine? Truly?”
Helaine sighed. “Yes, we do. For the moment. But not for long unless…” Her voice trailed away, and once again she saw how useless this whole errand was. Irene had no reason to agree, and every reason to send Helaine packing. But she could not stop now. “As I said before, I thought you were desperately unhappy. I thought you would grasp at any chance to escape.” She lifted up her hands in a gesture of futility. “I came, Irene, to offer you a job.”
“What?” her friend gasped.
“We cannot get the right supplies,” Helaine explained. “But your father-in-law is in shipping. He has cargo from all over the world. And I remember how good at spotting bargains you are. You found the most amazing things for no money at all!”
“It was a necessity in my household.”
“Yes,” Helaine drawled. “Mine, too, but you excelled at it.”
“Hardly a skill I’m proud of.”
“But you should be!” said Helaine. “You cannot know how desperate I am for someone to shop for us. To find bargains in silks and lace, to locate just the right baubles or ribbons. I can look at a woman and see just the right clothing for her. Wendy can sew anything I dream up and more. But neither of us can find the cloth or the baubles. Certainly not cheaply. Not like you could.”
“So you want me to shop for you?”
Helaine turned to her friend, using all her persuasive skill. “You are grieving a husband. You have all the material wealth a woman could want. And yes, we were once the best of friends, but that was a long time ago. But nonetheless, that is what I am asking you to consider: be my purchaser. You cannot imagine how liberating it is to earn your own money. I know it is crass to say it, but the first time we were paid, I danced in the workroom. I bought a bottle of wine and we celebrated away all our profits. And yet, I do not regret it for one second.”