by Anne Herries
Helene was tempted to remind her that she had done most of the talking, but she was too well bred to argue in public. Nor would she have said much had they been at home. It was clear to Helene that her mama was anxious for her to make a good match, and she felt that she must do her very best to oblige her. She did not dislike Mr Bradwell, though she had thought that his good manners had deserted him when he was addressing Lord Coleridge. Indeed, that gentleman had made him seem almost dull and boorish in comparison.
Helene held her sigh inside. She knew which gentleman she preferred, but it was clear her mother did not wish her to encourage Lord Coleridge. Nor ought she to think of it herself. Helene did not wish for the life of a society lady. Marriage was a necessity for a girl in her circumstances, but she hoped to share her life with a gentleman who had the good of others at heart. Perhaps a member of the clergy might suit her as well as any.
She hoped that she would in the next few weeks meet someone she could like well enough to marry who also met with her mama’s approval.
‘You will make a fine swordsman if you continue this way,’ Max said and saluted Toby with his foil. ‘Harry and I both learned as young men, but fighting on a battlefield is a different affair to fencing for sport.’
‘Yes, it must be,’ Toby agreed as they replaced their swords in the stand and walked to the changing room together. ‘I should have liked to join Wellington when Boney escaped from Elba. I was still at Oxford, of course, but that was not the reason I did not offer my services. Mama begged me not to go, because of my father’s health. She said that if anything happened to me it would be the end of him. I felt obliged to do as she asked.’ He looked rueful and Max smiled. ‘I have always felt that I ought not to have listened to her.’
‘Sometimes it takes more strength of mind to give up the chance of adventure than to take it, Toby. Do not feel that you missed out. War is something best avoided if you can. If it had not been for Harry and Gerard, I should have died in Spain. Harry carried me for more than an hour on his back. We were all of us lucky to get out…’ Max frowned. ‘I joined Wellington in Brussels as his aide in the last action, but saw little of the fighting. I got shot at a few times while delivering Old Hooky’s messages, but I seem to have the luck of the devil.’
‘That’s as well,’ Toby said looking at him thoughtfully. ‘You have never married, Coleridge. What would have happened to the title and your estate had you been killed?’
‘I have a cousin. Robert Heronsdale.’ A tiny pulse flickered at Max’s temple. ‘My father’s sister’s son. I suppose Robert would inherit through his mother if I were to die without issue, but I do not think it too late to render that unnecessary.’
‘Has he ever been to town?’ Toby asked. ‘I do not recall the name.’
‘No…’ A strange expression flickered in Max’s eyes. ‘I invited him to stay with me on my return from Brussels, but he was unwell. I have been told that he suffers bouts of periodical sickness.’
‘Unfortunate for the poor fellow,’ Toby said and nodded. ‘Mama worried that I might have inherited Father’s weakness of the chest, but thus far I am hale and hearty.’
‘Nothing to fear as far as you are concerned,’ Max said and the strange look disappeared as he grinned. ‘If you were my heir, I should not be concerned for the future, Toby. As it is, I believe I must seriously consider marriage.’
‘As to that, there was some talk of your showing Miss Fitzherbert particular attention. I heard yesterday that she had accepted the Duke of Melbourn.’
‘I did consider it when we met at a house party at Christmas,’ Max replied. ‘However, after further consideration I decided we should not suit. Poor Jane did not find my sense of humour amusing. Indeed, she did not always realise when I was funning. I fear that I do have a rather irreverent humour and she is not alone in disapproving of levity. Nor would she approve of certain other activities of mine, I fear.’
‘Mr Bradwell was not amused by your humour last night,’ Toby said and arched his right eyebrow. ‘However, Miss Henderson seemed to approve of your actions over the donkey. I should have liked to see her when she pounced on that rogue, Max. From what you told me, she was very brave.’
‘Yes, very,’ Max confirmed. ‘I should not have told you had you not been so taken with that wretched donkey, Toby. You must not tell anyone else of her part in the affair. I would not wish to damage her reputation. She seems to be taking well at the moment.’
‘You need not have cautioned me,’ Toby said. ‘She sounds a good sort of person, Coleridge.’ He threw Max a mocking look. ‘Perhaps you should fix your interest with her before Bradwell does?’
‘Damned young pup!’ Max said and gave him a stare of mock severity. ‘I shall admit to you privately that I like her. However, these things should not be rushed.’
‘I’ll wager that Bradwell will ask her before the week’s out and be turned down,’ Toby said and grinned wickedly. ‘A hundred guineas she sends him away with a flea in his ear!’
‘It is most improper of you to take that young lady’s name in vain,’ Max said, but his eyes gleamed. ‘I’ll take you—but if word of this wager gets out I shall skin you alive!’
‘It is just between us,’ Toby said. ‘We must watch for the signs, Coleridge. They are both certain to be at the Marquis of Hindlesham’s ball this evening.’
‘Amelia was right about that colour,’ Mrs Henderson said as Helene came downstairs wearing her new gown that evening. ‘You look beautiful, my love.’ Helene’s hair had been dressed in a knot at the top of her head, and then allowed to fall to her shoulder in one elegant ringlet. Her hair was a dark, shining brown, her slightly olive-toned skin brought to life by the warmth of the deep peach silk. She was wearing a pendant of diamonds and pearls loaned to her by Amelia, and a matching pair of earrings. ‘I think you need a bracelet, my love. Wear this, Helene. Your papa gave it to me as my wedding gift.’ She handed Helene a small velvet pouch. Inside was a narrow bracelet of diamonds set in gold.
‘Mama, your bracelet,’ Helene said and hesitated. ‘Are you sure you wish to lend it to me? It is so precious to you—and I should be distressed if I lost it. Did you not say that the catch was loose?’
‘I have had the catch seen to,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘Had your papa been a richer man, you might have had jewels of your own, Helene. I am sorry that I could not give them to you, but you may borrow my bracelet while we are in town.’
‘Oh, thank you, Mama,’ Helene said. ‘Will you fasten it for me, please? I shall take very good care of it, I promise.’
Helene admired the bracelet on her wrist. The stones looked well against the pristine white of her long evening gloves, but she was still a little apprehensive of wearing it, because she knew that her mama treasured the lovely thing. She had been forced to sell some of her jewellery since Papa died, but the bracelet was too precious to part with unless the necessity became too pressing. Helene tested the clasp by giving it a gentle tug. It held and she felt relieved, because it seemed that the fastening was now secure.
Amelia and Emily joined them at that moment. Emily admired the bracelet, complimenting Helene on her appearance.
‘That colour looks wonderful on you,’ she said. ‘So much better than the white Madame Dubois would have had you wear.’
‘I suppose she was thinking that white is generally favoured by young ladies,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘However, I think Amelia was quite right to advise against it. I believe the carriage awaits—shall we go?’
In the carriage, Helene was careful not to sit on Amelia’s gown. It was quite a squash with four of them, but, by being considerate of each other, they managed to arrive with no damage to their gowns. A red carpet had been laid for the ladies to walk on, and there were linkboys everywhere with their torches and lanterns. Footmen were waiting to conduct the guests inside, and the ladies were greeted by smiling maids who took their evening cloaks. Directed by one of the footmen, they walked up a magnificent staircase to
meet the Marquis and Marquise of Hindlesham.
The marquis was a large, portly man dressed in a dark puce coat, his wife a tiny woman, exquisitely lovely in a gown of sparkling silver. She must have been at least twenty years his junior and was now recovered from the birth of her first son. The grand ball was being given in celebration of her success in producing the heir; the magnificent diamonds around her throat were evidence of her husband’s delight at her cleverness.
Amelia congratulated both the marquis and his wife and received a kiss on the cheek from the young mother, who was not much above Helene’s own age. Helene curtsied and thanked her hostess for the invitation.
‘You are very welcome, Miss Henderson,’ the marquise replied and smiled. ‘Amelia Royston is a friend—any guests she cares to bring are always welcome to me. Perhaps we may talk later.’
Helene inclined her head and moved on, because there was a line of guests waiting to greet and be greeted by their hosts. She had thought there were a lot of guests at the soirée the previous evening, but this was clearly a much grander occasion. There were two large reception rooms, which were overflowing with guests. Footmen circled with trays of champagne and many people were content to linger here. However, Amelia was moving steadily through the crush, Emily, Mrs Henderson and Helene following in her wake. Beyond the two crowded reception rooms was a large, long room, which was where the ball was to be held. Helene could hear music playing and already a few couples had taken to the floor.
She looked about her, entranced by the theme. Yards and yards of some pale pink gauzy material had been draped over the stage where the musicians were grouped. Banks of pink roses and carnations were at the foot of the stage, and arranged tastefully in alcoves to either side.
‘Where on earth did they find so many roses?’ Helene asked of no one in particular and heard a throaty chuckle just behind her. Turning, she found herself staring up at Lord Coleridge. ‘My lord…’ She dipped a curtsy. ‘I was just admiring the flowers. There are such a profusion and it is a little early in the year, would you not agree?’
‘I believe they are all forced in a hothouse,’ Max told her, a gleam in his eyes. ‘Have you remarked that they have little scent? For myself I prefer a natural rose…one that is allowed to blossom in its own good time. Ours at Coleridge House begin to flower from May onwards in the most sheltered spots, and there is one white bush that always gives us a rose at Christmas. When I was a child my father always plucked it for my mother on Christmas Day.’
‘How lovely,’ Helene said. She felt a flutter in her stomach as she gazed up into his dark, slate-grey eyes. There was something so very attractive about him! ‘Tell me, do your roses smell wonderful?’
‘Yes, particularly a dark red one that was my mother’s favourite—and an old pink damask rose that no one knows anything about.’
‘Someone must know something of it, surely?’
‘No, it is true that no one can name it, and no one remembers it being planted. My mother was a great gardener until her health went and she died suddenly when I was young, but even she could not remember having it planted. My head gardener thinks it must have grown from a seedling—but we have no record of it. I have made inquiries, but even the experts cannot put a name to it.’
‘How fascinating. If it is truly a new variety you must name it,’ Helene said. ‘I love gardens and gardening. I had my own at home, but my uncle’s gardener does not wish for help.’ She looked at him steadily. ‘I am sorry that your mama died when you were young. I know what it is to lose a parent too soon.’
‘Yes, your mama is a widow, I believe. We have something in common, Miss Henderson. In Mama’s case, it was very sad because in his grief my father neglected her garden—and a garden gives much pleasure,’ Max told her. ‘I am sorry your uncle’s gardener does not wish for your help, but I am sure you will have your own garden again one day.’
‘Yes, perhaps I shall.’
‘May I ask if you will dance this with me?’ Max asked as they saw couples beginning to take the floor for a country dance. ‘I hope you like to dance, Miss Henderson?’
‘Yes—at least, I have not had much opportunity, though I have been given lessons.’
‘I am sure you will enjoy the pastime now that you have the opportunity,’ Max said and offered her his hand. ‘Shall we, Miss Henderson?’
Helene gave him her hand, smiling up at him. The answering smile in his eyes made her feel instantly at home with him, and she found the steps came easily to her. He was a large man, but she was acutely aware how well he danced, seeming to have a light step and an elegant bearing that some of the other gentlemen did not quite possess.
It was for Helene an enchanted moment—it seemed only a moment before he was returning her to her friends.
‘That was most enjoyable, Miss Henderson,’ Max told her as he bowed. ‘May I ask you to reserve the dance before supper, please?’
‘Yes, certainly,’ Helene said. Her heart did an odd little flip as he wrote his name, nodded his head and walked away. Her mama was looking at her, but before she could make a remark, another gentleman approached and asked her to dance. Since she had already met Mr Peters in Amelia’s company, Helene was in the happy position of being able to accept. He wrote his name in one further space at the end of their dance.
‘Miss Henderson, I hope you have reserved a dance for me?’
Helene turned her head as she heard a familiar voice. ‘Good evening, Mr Bradwell. I have not reserved anything, for I did not know if you were here,’ Helene said. ‘But there are still several spaces.’ She offered him her card and he wrote in two of them.
After that, several young men she had not previously met approached Helene and it was not long before every space on her card was filled. Helene found herself swept from one dance to the next, scarcely finding the time to draw breath. When the supper dance became due, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone with pleasure. She had not expected to be this popular at her first dance and felt pleasantly surprised.
‘You are enjoying yourself this evening?’ Max asked as he arrived to claim her for the supper dance. ‘I believe this is a waltz, Miss Henderson. You do not object?’
‘Not at all,’ Helene said. ‘Mama has given me permission to waltz and I have done so twice this evening.’
‘I like it very well,’ he said, placing his gloved hand at the small of her back. ‘But I know some ladies find it very shocking to be held so. It was held to be fast when it was first introduced and I believe some still feel it so.’
His eyes held a gleam of humour as he gazed down at her. Helene wondered if he was trying to provoke her.
‘Yes, I believe it was frowned upon at first,’ she said. ‘I understand that one cannot dance a waltz at Almack’s unless one of the hostesses gives permission. Not that it can signify. I do not suppose that I shall be given vouchers.’
‘Not be given vouchers?’ Max looked at her quizzingly. ‘Why should you not receive vouchers? You seem a respectable young lady to me.’
‘Oh…I hope I am respectable,’ Helene said and gurgled with laughter. ‘But we are not important. Papa had no title and hardly any fortune. He was a gentleman, but if it were not for Miss Royston I dare say I should not have been invited here this evening. I am not certain I shall be approved by society, sir.’
‘Nonsense! You have been seen, Miss Henderson. News of your beauty and good nature will spread. In the next few days you will be invited everywhere—and I am certain you will receive vouchers for Almack’s. You have not lacked for partners this evening, I think?’
‘No, not at all…’ She wondered if she might have more to thank him for than she knew. Had he perhaps sent his friends to ask her to dance? ‘But Almack’s is rather different, I believe?’
‘I assure you that you will receive your invitation, Miss Henderson. It is unthinkable that you should not.’
‘Perhaps…’ Helene held back a sigh. ‘Mama is so grateful for this chance for me.’
‘It would be a pity if someone of your nature were not to grace the drawing rooms of society more often,’ Max said. ‘However, I am certain that I am right. By tomorrow everyone will be wanting to know you.’
‘You are kind,’ Helene said and smiled up at him. ‘I hope you are right—for Mama’s sake as much as my own.’
He nodded and looked thoughtful, but said no more. Helene was glad that there was no need to talk, because she wanted to enjoy the wonderful sensation of being in his arms. She had thought him a good dancer earlier, but waltzing with him was divine. She wished that she might stay like this for the rest of the evening, but that would be most improper. Their dance ended all too soon.
Helene hoped that he might ask her to take supper with him, but he merely bowed to her and her mother, said that he would call soon and then walked away. Watching him, Helene saw him speaking to some ladies that she did not know.
‘I do not believe it would be a good thing for you to dance with Lord Coleridge too often,’ Mrs Henderson said, coming up to her. ‘He is a perfect gentleman, Helene, and well liked—but you must not set your heart on him. He mixes in circles that we shall scarcely enter, my dear.’
‘I am very certain he would not do for me, Mama,’ Helene replied primly, though a little voice at the back of her mind told her that she was not telling the whole truth. She did like Lord Coleridge more than she was prepared to admit, but of course it would not do at all.
As they moved towards the supper room, Emily and Amelia joined them; a sumptuous buffet had been laid out on long tables and waiters were circulating with trays of champagne. Laid out for their delectation were platters of cold meats, chicken, beef, ham, tiny pies and pastries containing both sweet and savoury fillings and a huge variety of relishes, cold peas and soft sweet plums in a syrup.
Helene took a small glass of syllabub and a spoon and followed Amelia and Emily to a table by the window. She glanced back at the buffet table, discovering that an attractive lady, to whom Helene had as yet not been introduced, had detained her mother. Mrs Henderson seemed to be nodding and smiling a great deal, and when she returned to the table she had a slightly dazed expression on her face.