by Sandra Heath
With a heavy sigh, she gazed out at the park, where horsemen and women rode between the trees. It was an elegant scene, exclusive and beautiful, and so peaceful that again she found it hard to remember what was happening in Europe.
The landau drove past the Prince Regent’s fine new residence, the cottage orné known as the Royal Lodge. From the road it was visible only as a number of tall chimneys rising above the trees, but she could tell that it was a large building, probably fully deserving its nickname of ‘the thatched palace.’
At last the end of the park was in sight, and beyond it the town of Windsor, sprawling up the chalk outcrop that was dominated by England’s largest castle. Helen toyed nervously with the strings of her reticule. Peter had been given instructions to drive to King Henry Crescent, which meant that in a very few minutes now she’d be at Adam’s house. She’d screwed up all her courage to go through with her plan, but what if he wasn’t in? And what if someone who’d met her last night should see her calling so boldly at his door? What if he was in, but threw her out on learning who she really was, and what if she was seen anyway? Then everything would be in ruins. The possibilities were endless, and she hardly dared think about some of them, but she still knew she had to see him and begin to put things on an honest footing. She drew a long, shaking breath, instinctively crossing her fingers as the landau rattled into the town.
King Henry Crescent was in a very fashionable quarter, its curving, elegant façade overlooking the Thames. There were echoes of Bath’s Royal Crescent in its perfect lines, and it was evidently a much sought after address, for there were several exceedingly expensive carriages drawn up outside various doors. Almost immediately she realized which house was number five, for the bright red curricle was waiting at the curb, but even as she saw it her hopes were dashed because Adam emerged from his door, tapping on his top hat and pulling on his gloves.
He wore a light-brown coat, a fawn-and-cream-figured waistcoat, and fawn twill trousers, and he didn’t glance toward the approaching landau as he climbed quickly into the curricle, turned it around in the street, and drove smartly away in the opposite direction. Helen stared after him in dismay.
Mary could hardly conceal her relief, for in her view her rash mistress had been saved from certain folly. ‘It’s for the best, miss, truly it is. A lady really shouldn’t call alone on a gentleman.’
‘I know, but I have to speak to him again. Evidently today is not destined to be the day, however. Peter, will you drive on to the couturière?’
‘Yes, madam.’ The coachman touched his hat and urged the team on.
Mary looked hesitantly at her. ‘Miss Fairmead, perhaps you could write to him, explain it all in a letter?’ she suggested wisely.
‘I wish I could, but I need to see him face to face to tell him I’ve been fibbing since the moment we met.’
‘But, a letter would….’
Helen thought, but then shook her head regretfully. ‘No, Mary, I couldn’t do it that way.’
The maid fell silent.
Helen glanced up at the façade of King Henry Crescent as the landau drove past. Maybe Mary was right after all, and a letter was the answer. It was something to consider if she couldn’t manage to speak to him soon.
The couturière’s premises lay in the very shadow of the castle walls, one of a row of bow-windowed shops of rather exclusive appearance. There was a very superior haberdashery, a milliner, a furniture warehouse, and several other couturières, but it was Madame Blanchet who was the most prosperous.
A bell tinkled in the muffled silence as Helen and Mary entered. Dark oak counters, bolts of costly cloth, and shelves of accessories were all around in the gloom, for little sunlight penetrated. Madame Blanchet, a diminutive Parisienne who proudly wore Bourbon blue and silver, hurried to greet them straightaway, her face breaking into a pleased smile as Margaret’s name was mentioned. She led Helen up to the dressing room on the floor above to show her the various costumes she’d set aside in readiness.
It didn’t take Helen long to decide, for one costume stood out, a beautiful filmy gown of the most diaphanous ice-blue muslin, stitched all over with fluttering ribbons in the colors of the rainbow. It was meant to represent Iris, goddess of the rainbow, one of the messengers of the gods. The gown was very daring, plunging low over her bosom, but it was exquisitely lovely, and was to be worn with a Grecian stephane headdress, shaped and colored like the rainbow and flashing with jewels. The mask was a domino, the piece covering the eyes again studded with jewels, the veil concealing the lower face shaded in the same rainbow colors as the gown and stephane. Helen thought it quite perfect, and chose it as soon as she saw it.
Several minutes later, she and Mary emerged again, followed by one of Madame Blanchet’s footmen, who solemnly loaded the packages containing the purchases into the boot of the waiting landau. Helen was about to climb into the carriage when her attention was drawn up the hill by the approach of a colorful cavalcade of the king’s dragoons. They rode splendidly down from the castle, their horses’ hooves clattering. As they passed, her gaze returned to the castle turrets. She knew it was very much the thing to stroll on the terraces, especially the north terrace, where the royal apartments were, and suddenly she felt like doing just that.
She turned to Peter. ‘Please wait here, I wish to visit the castle.’
‘Very well, miss,’ he replied, touching his hat. He caught Mary’s eye then, and gave her a broad but discreet wink.
The maid blushed, looking quickly away and falling into step just behind Helen, who had immediately begun to walk up the hill. Suddenly the maid halted, glancing across the road at a narrow side street.
Helen paused, looking curiously at her. ‘What is it?’
‘I – I don’t know, miss. I had the strangest feeling someone was watching us, but when I looked, there wasn’t anyone there. I’m sure I didn’t imagine it.’
Helen glanced across the road as well, but the side street appeared to be empty. ‘Oh, come on, I’m longing to see the castle.’
England’s largest fortress was very splendid, more than a mile in circumference, and commanding a matchless view over the countryside of Berkshire and neighboring Buckinghamshire. The Thames wound past at the foot of the hill, separating Eton from Windsor, and in the other direction the great park stretched away toward Ascot, the magnificent acres shimmering in the brilliant sunshine. Helen and Mary proceeded into the lower yard, past St George’s Chapel, and on toward the gateway into the upper yard, where the famous round tower presided over everything with a mixture of serenity and grimness that sharply evoked the long-lost past.
The north terrace was a place renowned for its breeziness, for it seemed to catch the wind from whichever quarter it blew. The royal apartments faced onto it, and there were many who’d seen the sad face of mad King George III gazing down from one of the windows, for he’d been living there under close watch since succumbing finally to his illness in 1811. There had been royal apartments in this place since the days of Henry I, and in all that time it had been a place to see and be seen in. There were many ladies and gentlemen strolling on the elevated open area, some just talking together, others pausing by the wall to gaze down at the panorama stretching away toward the horizon.
Helen and Mary joined the crowds for a while, but at last stood by the wall. Helen’s thoughts weren’t on the scenery, they were firmly fixed on Adam Drummond and how she was going to emerge from the tangle her own fibs had caused. She was aroused from her thoughts by the sound of a lazy male guffaw she’d heard rather frequently at dinner the night before. It belonged to William Lamb, whose notorious wife, Lady Caroline, had scandalized society with her outrageous and public affair with Lord Byron. Helen had found him very charming and kindly, and she turned quickly, intending to acknowledge him if their eyes met, but almost immediately she froze with shock, for he wasn’t alone, Adam was with him.
The two men were idling along the terrace, in no particular hurry because th
ey were enjoying each other’s company. William Lamb laughed again as Adam said something amusing, and they paused about twenty feet away, unaware of her presence. Adam tipped his hat back, and Helen saw his face very clearly.
She had to turn sharply away, her heart pounding. Why had fate always to be so unkind to her? Again she had a chance of speaking to him, but she didn’t dare to this time because he was with William Lamb, who knew her as Helen Fairmead of Bourne End.
‘What are they doing, Mary?’ she whispered.
The maid glanced discreetly toward them. ‘The other gentleman’s going, miss, he’s just taking his leave.’
‘And Lord Drummond? Is he going, too?’
‘I don’t know, miss. No, wait a moment, he’s walking to the wall a little farther on. I think he’s going to smoke a cigar. Yes, he’s lighting it now.’ The maid looked quickly at her. ‘Please don’t do anything you might regret, miss. Think of your reputation.’
‘I may not have another chance like this, Mary, I have to speak to him.’
‘Miss….’
But Helen had already begun to walk determinedly toward him. He was leaning on the wall, the smoke from his cigar snatched away by the north terrace breeze. Her steps faltered, and she was suddenly less sure of herself. ‘Adam?’ she ventured nervously.
He straightened immediately, turning to look at her. Surprise shone fleetingly in his blue eyes and for a dreadful moment she thought he was going to cut her. Then he gave a slight smile, but it was definitely on the reserved side. ‘Yet another unexpected encounter, fair Helen?’
‘If you wish to acknowledge me. I shall quite understand if you don’t.’
‘How the pendulum swings. I seem to recall that at our last meeting I was the one saying something like that.’
‘About our last meeting….’
‘It came to a somewhat abrupt end, did it not? I did wonder if I’d imagined you. Are you a mirage now? Will you suddenly vanish again?’
She colored. ‘I did have a good reason.’
‘I hope so, for to do so without good reason would have been contrary in the extreme.’
‘I didn’t wish to speak to Mr St John. I saw him coming and I hid.’
Slowly he dropped the half-smoked cigar, crushing it with the heel of his Hessian boot before looking at her again. ‘Well, I congratulate you on your excellent taste, for only the most discerning manage to view St John with the dislike he so richly deserves. May I ask you where you hid?’
She lowered her eyes in embarrassment. ‘In the bushes. I heard everything you and he said to each other.’
‘Did you indeed?’ he murmured. ‘I imagine that what you heard made a great many things clear to you.’
‘Yes.’
‘I only have one sister, Helen, and her secret is now yours, as well as St John’s.’
‘I know.’
‘Do I need to ask you to be discreet?’
‘No, sir, you do not, and you wrong me by asking.’
‘Forgive me, but where someone else’s happiness and future wellbeing is concerned, it matters too much to allow the possibility of hurt feelings to stand in the way. I’ve gone through a great deal in order to protect my sister, I’ve allowed monstrous harm to be done to my reputation and honor, and I’ve forfeited many friends as a consequence.’
‘I know, and I admire you immensely for it. I feel I should remind you that I believed in your innocence, and told you so, before I overheard anything at Hagman’s.’
A smile played about his lips then. ‘So you did,’ he said softly.
Her heart quickened. ‘I – I’ve admired everything about you since we met,’ she said, color touching her cheeks, ‘and if I could prove Mr St John’s guilt, believe me, I would. I think he’s the most despicable serpent I’ve ever come across, but even though my feelings are so strong on the matter, I’d never say or do anything that might compromise Lady Bowes-Fenton.’
His smile was warm now. ‘If you’ve admired me, my lovely Helen, let me hasten to say that the feeling is more than mutual, and if I was a little, er, cool when you approached a while ago, it’s because I really don’t know where I am with you. You’re quite the most perplexing creature I’ve ever met, a lady of true mystery.’
She took a hesitant step closer. ‘Adam, there’s much I need to say to you.’
‘I’m fully aware of that.’
‘I just don’t know how to begin, or what you’ll say when you know.’ To her dismay, tears suddenly filled her eyes.
He came to her in quick concern, taking her hands and drawing them both gently to his lips. ‘Please don’t cry, Helen,’ he said softly, looking into her eyes. ‘Just answer me this, is there a Mr Brown after all?’
‘Oh, no,’ she answered quickly.
‘Is there a fiancé?’
‘No.’
‘Is there anyone who has cause to hope?’
‘No.’
He smiled a little. ‘Have you committed vile murder?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Have you stolen the crown jewels?’
She smiled through her tears. ‘No.’
‘Have you committed any crime at all?’
‘No.’
‘Then whatever it is that preys on your mind cannot possibly be very important, not to me, anyway. All that matters is that you’re a free agent, and you are, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’ She lowered her eyes again.
He studied her. ‘Yes, but?’ he urged. ‘Tell me, Helen.’
‘I – I tried to tell you when last we met, indeed I would have if the horse hadn’t distracted you. Then Mr St John arrived, and….’
‘I’m listening now, Helen. You have my full attention.’ He put a hand to her chin, tilting her lips toward his and kissing her very softly and slowly.
She heard Mary’s dismayed gasp, but took no notice, nor did she take any notice that this was a public place, nothing mattered but the ecstasy of kissing him. Her mouth trembled beneath his, and a fire burned through her veins, making her feel weak with sheer joy as his arms moved around her, pulling her close into a full embrace. Warm desire fluttered deep within her, beguiling and irresistible, and she clung to him, returning the kiss. This was what she was meant for, the only reason she existed now; loving him.
Almost overcome by the sheer force of emotion, she drew away, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dark. He put his hand to her cheek, stroking her warm skin with his thumb. ‘Now then, what is the dire secret that so weighs upon you?’
She looked away. Suddenly the confession was impossible to make, for she knew that the joy she’d just tasted might never be tasted again if he knew who she really was. She’d have to tell him she was Gregory’s sister-in-law, the woman whose name was being so widely connected with that of Ralph St John, and she was terrified that he’d recoil from her forever.
‘Helen?’
‘I….’
‘Yes?’ His thumb still moved deliciously against her cheek, distracting, arousing, and so pleasurable that it drove confession further away than ever.
She looked tearfully at him. ‘I can’t tell you,’ she whispered.
‘But, if it worries you….’
‘I can’t tell you, Adam. Please, don’t ask me why.’
‘If you’re sure,’ he said slowly, evidently puzzled.
‘Quite sure,’ she said, feeling utterly wretched, and ashamed of her own faintness of heart. She should tell him the truth, she should get it over with; but that might mean forfeiting so much.
‘Will you see me again, Helen?’
She nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself finally. ‘Yes, Adam, I’d like to very much,’ she said, her voice much more calm.
‘Since I don’t know where you live, and since I suspect you’re still not yet ready to tell me, perhaps you had better suggest a time and a place.’
The problems crowded in again. She couldn’t just slip away from Bourne End whenever she pleased, and she couldn’t take a c
hance that another occasion like today would arise. No, she had to think of something else. Inspiration came from nowhere. ‘Are you attending the Farrish House ball?’
‘Yes. I believe that this year my valet has decided I am to be a sultan, or some such eastern gentleman, but since I shall be one among at least half a dozen, perhaps you should tell me how to recognize you.’
‘I shall be the goddess Iris, but maybe there’ll be lots of them too.’
‘Possibly, so let’s agree to meet at a specific place at a specific time. There’s an extremely large long-case clock in the entrance hall of Farrish House, and I promise to be standing by it at exactly midnight. Will that do?’
‘It will do very well, sir.’
‘But let me warn you that I’m not entirely deceived.’
‘Deceived?’
‘You’ve chosen the ball because it means masks, and you will be able to continue concealing your identity, although who from, I’m not quite sure.’
Guilty color touched her cheeks. ‘I cannot deny it,’ she replied.
‘There would be little point,’ he said dryly. ‘Helen, I can’t even begin to guess what secrets you have, but I do know that when you’re ready to tell me about them, I’ll be ready to listen.’
‘I will tell you, but not just yet.’
He smiled, bending his head to kiss her on the lips again. ‘That’s your privilege,’ he said softly. ‘But for the moment, I’m afraid I have to bring this sweet encounter to an end. I’m not here at the castle for my own pleasure, I’m here on War Office business. The Prince Regent has been dragged from the Royal Lodge to attend to matters of state, and I’m charged to assist him. Until the night of the ball, adieu, my fair Helen.’