by Anne Herries
‘I have a little headache,’ her mother said and frowned. ‘This is not the time or the place but I must talk to you alone soon, Helene.’
‘Yes, of course, Mama. Whenever you wish.’
Helene leaned forward and kissed her cheek impulsively. She was startled to see what looked like tears in her mother’s eyes, but in another moment they had gone.
‘We must not keep the others waiting,’ Mrs Henderson said and appeared to make an effort to be brisk. ‘Come along, my dearest. I think you have had a good evening, for you have many friends now. You are enjoying yourself, Helene?’
‘Yes, of course, Mama.’
‘Then I must be content with that for the moment,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘I just hope that I have not harmed you, my love. I thought only to secure your future…’
‘Mama! What do you mean?’
‘Not now, Helene. I must think about something and then I shall tell you what I have decided.’
Helene stood patiently that morning as the dressmaker pinned and pulled, moulding the new evening gown about her so that it fit her like a second skin. It was made of a flame-coloured silk and was quite the most sophisticated gown that Helene possessed.
‘You have lost a little weight about the waist,’ the seamstress remarked. ‘The gown will require a little alteration, Mademoiselle Henderson.’
‘I am sorry to put you to extra trouble,’ Helene said. ‘Will it be ready for the Duchess of Marlborough’s ball next week? I believe it is meant to be the highlight of the season and I was hoping to wear this.’
‘Oui, of a certainty,’ the seamstress said. ‘I assure you that the alterations will be made and the gown delivered before the ball.’
‘Thank you,’ Helene said. ‘I dare say you have many calls on your time, madame?’
‘Oui, I am busy all the time, but this is good—no?’ She looked pleased. ‘I believe the gown will be a triumph. I hope you will ask me to make your wedding gown?’
‘I have not yet been asked to marry anyone,’ Helene said, her cheeks pink. ‘However, I shall certainly ask if I am…if you have time.’
‘I should make time for you, mademoiselle. It is not always that the figure is so good. Of a certainty it will not be long before milord speaks. I have heard your name mentioned by one of my clients.’
‘Someone spoke of my marriage?’ Helene frowned. ‘Surely not, madame! I do not think that I have done anything to occasion gossip.’
‘Forgive me, I should not have spoken…’ The Frenchwoman looked uncomfortable. ‘It was a conversation I overheard. Perhaps I did not hear correctly.’
‘What exactly did you hear?’ Helene was both curious and annoyed that people should be discussing her.
‘It was something about the marriage being suitable…and a name was linked with yours. I heard nothing more, Miss Henderson. I should not have assumed, but I imagined the engagement to be imminent.’
‘Who mentioned my name?’
‘I do not think I should say…’
‘Please tell me. It will go no further.’
‘I believe it was Lady Annersley. I called on her to fit her new gown. She was behind the screen and talking to the gentleman.’
Helene felt a sliver of ice slide down her spine. ‘Do you recall the gentleman’s name?’
‘I think he was the Duke of Annesdale. He is her father-in-law, I believe. They seem close.’
‘I see, thank you,’ Helene said. She did not press the seamstress further, for she could see that she was embarrassed. She felt angry that Lady Annersley and the duke should discuss her in such an intimate way.
Why did they feel that her marriage was important enough to be discussed? If the duke was her grand father, he had abandoned the right to influence her life. She decided that she would keep her appointment with Lady Annersley the following week. Before that, she would find a moment to speak privately with her mama.
After the dressmaker had gone, Helene went up to her mother’s bedchamber. She knocked and went in, finding her mother still in bed, a tray with the remains of her breakfast on a table beside the bed. She did not appear to have eaten very much.
‘Mama, are you unwell?’ Helene asked, looking at her in concern. ‘You have not been quite yourself of late. Last evening you spoke of wanting to speak with me alone. Is something on your mind?’
‘Yes, dearest,’ Mrs Henderson said and patted the bed beside her. ‘Please sit down, Helene. I have searched my conscience and I think I must tell you. I had hoped that you would receive a suitable offer and none of this need have come out, but now I believe I must confess the truth.’
‘Tell me what, Mama?’ Helene frowned. ‘What can be so dreadful that you have tortured yourself, for I know that you have been anxious for some days now?’
‘Firstly, I must ask you if you have received any offers that you have not mentioned to me, Helene?’
‘No, Mama…’ Helene blushed. ‘There are three gentlemen I think may make me an offer in time, but none of them have spoken.’
Mrs Henderson sighed. ‘I was afraid of that. It is unfortunate, for if you had chosen wisely it might all have been settled to your advantage. I am afraid he will make things awkward for us.’
‘Of whom do you speak, Mama?’
Mrs Henderson shook her head. ‘Papa’s father. He is come to town and wishes to see you, Helene.’
‘I have thought…’ Helene hesitated. ‘You have not told me Papa’s family name, Mama—was it Annesdale? Was Papa the duke’s younger son?’
‘Yes, though he never used his title.’ Mrs Henderson frowned. ‘Who told you? Have you see him?’
‘He was staring at me at the theatre—and Lady Annersley has written to me.’
‘Why did you not tell me?’
‘I did not think it was important at first—and you did not tell me that my grandfather was in town.’
‘I did not wish to have anything to do with the family. You know that I was not treated well as a bride, Helene. I was given the cold shoulder. One lady told me that she did not wish to mix with people of my class.’ She fiddled with her lace kerchief, as if she found the words difficult. ‘I have never forgotten or forgiven them.’
‘Oh, Mama, I am so sorry,’ Helene said. ‘I know it still hurts you—and of course I shall have nothing to do with them if you do not wish it. I told Lady Annersley I would call, but I can cancel the appointment.’
‘I wish it were that simple.’ Mrs Henderson sighed. ‘As you know, your father would have nothing more to do with his family. When they refused to receive me, he cut them out of our lives. Even when his father wrote and offered him a small allowance, he refused it. He was too proud to accept charity and we managed on what he earned from his copying. He had a beautiful copperplate hand, but the work did not pay much money.’
‘That was hard for you, Mama.’
‘I did not mind, though there were times when I wished we had a little more money. My father gave me five thousand when we married, even though we quarrelled. He did not approve of my marrying into the aristocracy and he cut me out of his will—but he still gave me something. Annesdale gave us nothing, not one penny. What little I had is almost gone, and if you do not marry well I do not know what we shall do.’
‘Oh, Mama…’ Helene did not know how to answer her. ‘I am so sorry.’
‘Well, it is not your fault. I had hopes that Mr Bradwell might speak. He seems to like you, and he is the kind of man that would make me an allowance—even provide me with a home of my own, perhaps. He is a gentleman, but not an aristocrat, and would make nothing of the fact that my father was in trade. I know that you like Lord Coleridge, but I fear his family might shun you, Helene. I do not want you to suffer as I did, my love.’
‘I am sure something good will happen soon, Mama.’
‘The duke is demanding to see you, Helene,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘I have never told you, but he made me an infamous offer once…just after your father died. He said that he wou
ld take you into his family and give you everything that I could not—but that I must give you up entirely.’
‘Mama!’ Helene was shocked. ‘How could he say such a wicked thing to you? I hope you told him that I should not go?’
‘To be honest I was nervous of telling you, Helene. Our lives have been hard since Papa died, and I was afraid you might be tempted by what Annesdale had to offer.’
‘Mama! You should have known I would never leave you in such circumstances.’
‘I have felt guilty over it. I refused without asking if you would like to live under his roof. You would have so many advantages…’
‘None that would compensate for having to give you up,’ Helene said. ‘I shall certainly not visit Lady Annersley. How dare they write to me, knowing how they behaved to you in the past?’
‘I think perhaps you should keep your appointment, Helene. Hear what they have to say. I thought if you married well you would be safe, but I do not think Annesdale will rest until he hears your denial from your own lips.’
‘You are sure, Mama? I do not wish to have anything to do with these people—they do not deserve it.’
‘Hear him first and then we may put an end to this business.’ Mrs Henderson smiled. ‘Go and change for your outing this afternoon, Helene. It is not your fault that you have not received an offer of marriage. I dare say I can live in Edgar’s house a little longer if I am forced to it.’
‘Is it so very bad, Mama?’ Helene asked. ‘If a gentleman asked for my hand, I should naturally tell him that my grandfather was in trade. I know it is not considered the done thing, but if there was genuine affection between us, it could not matter.’
‘It might matter to others,’ her mother warned. ‘If a gentleman loved you for yourself, he might not care—but his family might think otherwise.’
‘What are you trying to tell me, Mama?’
‘Lord Coleridge…his father was second cousin to Annesdale…’ Mrs Henderson put a hand to her face. ‘It is the reason I tried to warn you from the start, my love. Max Coleridge is said to be fond of the duke—I fear that he would give you up rather than risk a breach with him. I dare say Coleridge may even be his heir…though I am not certain of it.’
‘Oh, Mama!’ Helene stared at her in dismay. The discovery that Max Coleridge was distantly related to Papa’s father was shocking. How could she ever marry him in the circumstances? The duke had ruined her mother’s life, thereby forcing Papa to work as a secretary for barely enough money to keep his family alive.
If she married Max, he would expect her to welcome his friends and family. How could she be civil to a man she must hate?
Helene dashed away the angry tears. She was being ridiculous, for Max had not asked her to marry him, and it was unlikely that he would—especially if she told him exactly who she was.
Chapter Six
‘I do not know how much longer this weather can last,’ Max said as they strolled together in the park that afternoon, waiting for the band to start. ‘We have been lucky this year and it must rain before long.’
‘I do not mind the rain,’ Helene said. She directed an uncertain look at him, for her secret was playing on her mind. She felt that she was deceiving him, because he could not know that she was the daughter of a woman the duke had hated so much that he had cut his son off without a penny for marrying her. ‘At home I sometimes walk when it is wet. Everything in the country smells so clean and fresh after the rain—do you not think so?’
‘Yes, particularly new-mown grass,’ Max said and gave her an approving look. ‘I can see that you are truly a country girl at heart, Helene. Would you consider being a guest at my home when the Season ends? I am thinking of having a house party for friends. I have not done so for some years. Indeed, no one but Harry Pendleton and the Earl of Ravenshead have been there since my father died—apart from my widowed aunt and her son. They live in the dower house, but it is time that the main house was opened up to guests again.’
‘I dare say you were away for long periods in the army, sir?’
‘Yes, I was. My father was ill for a while, but he would not send for me and I did not know until I came home. I was with him when he died, but he was a very proud man. Had he asked, I would have resigned my commission and come home to be with him sooner. He was one of the old school. His name and family were everything to him. He was proud because I was doing my duty for my country. Pride and honour were all. He would not summon me simply because he had only a few months to live.’
‘You must have been sad when you knew,’ Helene said, the expression in her eyes thoughtful. ‘My father died some years ago. We live with Mama’s brother. I know very little of my family.’ It was on the tip of her tongue to confess what she knew, but she held back.
‘I was fortunate enough to know my grandparents well,’ Max said. ‘I recall that Grandfather was a stiff, cold man—but his wife was a sweet lady. She more or less brought me up after my mother died when I was a child. My mother’s father died only last year. He left me everything. I was very fortunate to have such relations.’
‘How sad for you that your mama should die, but fortunate that your grandparents were kind to you,’ Helene said. She turned her head as they heard the music begin. ‘I think we should rejoin the others, sir.’
‘Yes, I am sure we should. I must not monopolise your time or your friends will not be pleased with me.’
Helene laughed and shook her head. ‘Tell me, Lord Coleridge, have you ever discovered who shot at you when we were at Richmond?’
‘I fear nothing has been discovered as yet,’ Max said and frowned. ‘It may be that I shall have to go down to the country for a few days—but that will not be until after we have visited Vauxhall.’
‘I dare say your estate takes a great deal of your time?’ Helene glanced at him, noticing the tiny nerve flicking in his cheek.
‘Yes, sometimes,’ Max agreed. ‘There may be some changes necessary before I can hold my house party. Nothing of any great moment, I assure you.’
‘I see.’ Helene nodded. ‘I shall look forward to our visit to Vauxhall. I have been thinking that I might buy a few comfits and trinkets for the children. Shall you be visiting them again soon?’
‘Perhaps on my return,’ Max said. ‘I see that Miss Marshall is looking for us. We’d best rejoin our party now.’
‘So Lord Coleridge told you he may be going out of town for a few days? And he asked if we would join him at his estate at the end of the Season?’ Mrs Henderson frowned when they spoke in Helene’s room later that evening. ‘He has certainly paid you some attention. I do not think he can be aware that you are Annesdale’s granddaughter.’
‘Oh, Mama—’ Helene felt her throat tighten ‘—do you think it would distress him if he knew the truth?’
‘I told you that they are close,’ her mother said and sniffed. She waved her kerchief, sending waves of lavender water in Helene’s direction. ‘I am not sure what he would say, but I fear he might take Annesdale’s part. If you married him, I might not be able to visit you often.’
‘Do you want to go home, Mama?’ Helene felt a strange ache in her breast. It was as if she had been stabbed to the heart, because all her dreams must end now.
‘Not yet. There are other gentlemen, Helene. Could you not bring yourself to marry Mr Bradwell if he asked you?’
‘I am not sure, Mama,’ Helene said, her face very white. ‘I do not truly like him, but if you say I must…’
‘No, I shall not force you to take him,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘But there must be someone else you’ve met that you like enough to marry—someone who will not be influenced by Annesdale?’
‘I do not know…’ Helene felt overwhelmed by her disappointment. ‘I think I am in love with Lord Coleridge, but I am not sure that he loves me—or that he would accept me if he knew the truth.’
Helene went driving in the park with Miss Marshall and her brother Paul the next morning. She had decided that she must car
ry on as usual until they could leave town, but she had kept a distance between herself and Captain Marshall. Helene sensed that he was considering making her an offer, but she could not allow it—she knew she did not love him. Her heart belonged to another. When Captain Marshall suggested that she might like to attend a balloon race with a party of his friends the following week, she smiled and told him that she had a prior engagement. His expression showed that he was disappointed, and perhaps a little offended, but her pride would not let her continue as an intimate friend when she knew that she could never accept an offer from him.
She returned home just before noon, a little surprised to see a large travelling coach moving away from the house. A gentleman was staring out of the window, and he seemed to sit forward as the coach drew near to her. Helene frowned, for she knew that he was the Duke of Annesdale. How dare he call here? He must know he was not welcome after the way he had behaved to Mama.
She went straight upstairs to take off her bonnet, but she had not yet changed for nuncheon when someone tapped at the door. A moment later it opened and her mama entered.
‘Helene dearest,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘Did you enjoy your drive?’
‘Yes, Mama,’ Helene replied. ‘Have you had visitors this morning? I saw a coach leaving just as I returned from the park. I believe it may have belonged to the Duke of Annesdale…’
‘Yes, he was here. He asked to speak to you or, failing that, to me. I was lying down with a headache and refused him.’
‘Was that wise, Mama? I think perhaps he might be a dangerous enemy.’
‘What more can he do to me—except take my daughter from me?’
‘He shall not do that, Mama.’
‘Then I have nothing to fear.’ Mrs Henderson smiled at her. ‘I cannot blame him for wanting you—but I do not think I could bear to give you up, my love. I know I am selfish and—’