An Innocent Debutante in Hanover Square

by Anne Herries

‘You are not selfish!’

  ‘Supposing it comes to a choice between Lord Coleridge and me?’

  ‘If he could not see how unfair such a choice was, he would not be the man I care for.’

  ‘You do care for him,’ her mama said and sniffed. ‘If I have caused you unhappiness, I shall never forgive myself.’

  ‘Please do not cry, Mama,’ Helene begged. ‘Lord Coleridge has not asked me to marry him—and I dare say he will not.’

  ‘You say it does not matter, but I know you will break your heart,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘But I am being foolish. You must get ready. Amelia is taking you to visit her orphanage this afternoon…’

  ‘Well, what do you think of my children?’ Amelia said as they finished their tour of the house. ‘I like to think that they are being taught to become responsible citizens of the future.’

  ‘They all look happy and well fed,’ Helene said. ‘I enjoyed sitting in on their lessons, Amelia. Do you know, I think I could be content as a teacher. I know I could be a governess if I wished, but I think it must be more rewarding to teach in a school like yours. They have come from misery and poverty and yet they show such courage and resilience.’

  ‘Some of the boys were very unruly when they first came,’ Amelia said and looked thoughtful. ‘I suppose the girls would do well with a woman to teach them how to sew—but surely you will not think of it, Helene? Would you rather not be married?’

  ‘I suppose I might,’ Helene said and wrinkled her brow. It was impossible to explain, for she could not tell Amelia about the duke or that infamous letter. ‘But I cannot marry unless someone asks me—and I would only wish to marry if I could like the gentleman. I have not yet given up hope of meeting someone I can like well enough to wed.’

  ‘I thought…’ Amelia hesitated and shook her head. ‘No, I should not say. You know your own feelings best, Helene.’ She glanced at Emily, who had lingered to talk to the housekeeper. ‘I believe we ought to be leaving, for we have an engagement this evening. I have thought of setting up another home in the country—somewhere I can send those who need a little extra care. Do you think that would be a good idea? I have been fortunate here for Mrs Rowley was looking for a position, and her husband is very good about the place. Mr Makepeace is an excellent tutor and he does not mind helping with other things. I am not sure that I should be as lucky again. I would not wish to employ someone who would treat the children badly, though I know they need a firm hand.’

  ‘I dare say that is the difficult thing, finding the right staff,’ Helene said and looked thoughtful. ‘As you say, you have been lucky here, Amelia. Perhaps it is enough.’

  ‘I do not think it will ever be enough,’ Amelia replied. ‘My brother thinks me foolish, of course. He says it is a waste of money and that the children are slum rats and will remain so whatever I do.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Helene said. ‘I think you are doing a wonderful thing, Amelia. More people of consequence should set up homes of a similar kind, there must always be a need for them, I believe.’

  ‘There certainly is,’ Amelia replied. ‘There are few other places these children can go. Most of them would be sent to the workhouse if they were not here. Have you any idea of what happens to them there? They are given poor food, made to do physical, hard work, and when they are old enough they are sold to masters who will work them even harder. They have no choice, no control over their lives at all.’

  Helene nodded agreement. She told Amelia about the climbing boy she had rescued at her uncle’s house. ‘His master demanded to be paid ten guineas for him. In the end I paid much less, but it was not right that he should be able to buy and sell the boy.’

  ‘It certainly was not,’ Amelia said and smiled at her. ‘When you are married, you must set up your own charity, Helene. You may invite gentlemen of influence to your salon and try to influence them to use their power in government to change the laws. Until that happens, we can only do so much.’

  Helene had enjoyed her visit to the orphanage, because the children had looked healthy, well fed and content. It was proof of what could be done when one had money. Lord Coleridge’s orphanage was in the country, and Amelia’s was in the poorest part of London, but they were both doing excellent work.

  It would be pleasant to be the wife of a wealthy man, Helene thought, a little wistfully. She would have had many interests in common with Lord Coleridge, but there was no point in thinking of it. She could not marry him even if he asked. He was related to the Duke of Annesdale and fond of him. Helene could never accept that man in her life.

  It was obviously best if she put all thought of Max Coleridge from her mind.

  Mrs Henderson had decided to keep to her bed. On the Sunday morning, Amelia was worried and called the doctor to her. He came, prescribed a tonic and said that it was either a chill or an irritation of the nerves.

  ‘I am well enough,’ Mrs Henderson said when Helene took a tray of tea and comfits up to her. ‘I think I have a summer cold and should stay in bed for a few days. You must not think of giving up your pleasures for my sake, Helene. If I feel no better in a few days, I may go home—but you will stay here with Amelia for the time being. At least until…’ She sniffed and held a small bottle of smelling salts to her nose. ‘Do not worry, my love. In a day or so I shall be better. If you would be so kind as to fetch me some books from the lending library, I shall do well enough here.’

  ‘Of course, Mama,’ Helene agreed. ‘I have engaged to go to an art collection with Miss Marshall and Emily this morning. I can quite easily call in at the lending library on my way home.’ She looked at her mother anxiously. ‘Are you sure you do not wish for company? Emily may go in my stead and I could read to you.’

  ‘You are a sweet girl to think of it, but I shall not hear of it. Run along now and make the most of your visit. I do not know when we shall come to town again.’

  ‘Do not worry, Mama. I shall think of something,’ Helene promised. ‘If you are so unhappy living under my uncle’s roof, we shall not live there for ever.’

  ‘I wish things might be different.’ Mrs Henderson shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. ‘Go away now, Helene. I want to rest.’

  Helene was obedient to her wish. She collected her pelisse for there was a little chill in the air that morning—the first sign, perhaps, that the weather might turn. Joining Emily downstairs, the two of them went out to the carriage.

  Miss Marshall was waiting when they arrived at the gallery. Her mother accompanied her, but there was no sign of her brother.

  ‘Paul had another engagement,’ she said. ‘He says he has danced attendance on me long enough and has only a few days before he must leave for his regiment. They are based near Lyme Regis at the moment, but he expects a posting to India quite soon.’

  ‘Oh, I did not know that.’ Helene looked at the other girl as Emily fell into step with Lady Marshall. ‘Does Captain Marshall mean to make a career in the army? I thought perhaps he might give up the life in time to help your father manage the estate.’

  ‘Paul is my younger brother,’ Miss Marshall told her. ‘I have two older brothers, Helene. He has a small estate of his own, but employs an agent. He says that he shall stay in the army for some years to come…though he did think he might give it up soon. However, he has changed his mind.’ Her look was a little accusing and Helene felt that she was being blamed for his decision.

  ‘I think if I were a man, I should choose to remain in the army. It must be exciting to travel to foreign lands.’

  ‘Do you think so? I should not care for it,’ Miss Marshall said. ‘Oh, do look at this landscape. It is rather fine, is it not?’

  Their conversation was concentrated on the pictures for some minutes after that, and when they parted company Miss Marshall seemed to have recovered her usual good humour. She kissed Helene on both cheeks and said that she looked forward to seeing her very soon.

  It was as Helene and Emily were emerging from the library half an hour later t
hat they met Lord Coleridge. He stopped and doffed his hat, smiling at them.

  ‘I hope you are looking forward to tomorrow evening, ladies? I believe it may keep fine, though it is cooler today, is it not?’

  ‘Yes, a little fresher,’ Emily said. ‘We are very much looking forward to joining you tomorrow, Lord Coleridge—are we not, Helene?’

  ‘Yes…yes, we are,’ Helene said. She could not meet Lord Coleridge’s eyes, her cheeks hot as she glanced down at her shoes. He would not look at her so kindly if he knew the way things stood between her family and the Duke of Annesdale. ‘I am sure it will be a very pleasant evening.’

  ‘Have you visited the new art collection?’ Max asked.

  Helene risked a glance at him and saw that his eyes were serious as he looked at her. He must be able to sense the reserve in her, because she had always been so free with him. She tried to smile, but knew it was a woeful effort.

  ‘We have been this morning,’ she said. ‘There were some fine landscapes after the style of Mr Constable—though not quite as good in my opinion.’

  ‘You enjoy good art?’ Max asked and Helene nodded. ‘I have been collecting for a while, though most are in store until I am ready to hang them.’

  ‘At your home in the country?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. I stay at my club while I am in town—as yet I have no need for a town house, though that may change,’ Max said. ‘I think you must excuse me, ladies. I have an appointment and I am sure you have things to do.’

  ‘We are going on to a poetry reading at Lady Jamieson’s house this afternoon,’ Emily told him. ‘She is sponsoring a new poet—a gentleman by the name of Mr Tarleton.’

  ‘Henry Tarleton,’ Max nodded. ‘I have read something of his—the man is a Cit and has no soul.’

  ‘That is unfair, sir!’ Helene cried. ‘To say that he has no soul merely because he is in trade is abominable. I did not imagine you to be such a snob!’ Her cheeks were flushed and she felt hot as his eyes dwelled on her.

  ‘I beg your pardon if I have offended you,’ Max replied. ‘It was a careless remark. The man’s poetry is dull and I find it without passion or soul. His being a Cit is certainly nothing to the point.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ Helene said. ‘A man cannot help his birth and those born to privilege should respect others for their character and not their social standing.’

  Max frowned, but said nothing in reply, his eyes reproachful as he gazed at Helene. Her cheeks were flaming, but she would not look at him.

  ‘I believe we ought to hurry on or we shall keep everyone waiting for nuncheon,’ Emily said, looking at Helene in concern.

  ‘Then I must certainly not delay you longer,’ Max said. ‘I look forward to tomorrow evening.’

  ‘As do we,’ Emily answered, but Helene merely looked at the ground. Her feelings were in such disorder that she hardly knew how she felt and could not bring herself to speak.

  The two ladies walked on in silence. After a moment Emily glanced at Helene. ‘You have not quarrelled with Lord Coleridge?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Helene said. She still felt hot and uncomfortable, and was realising that she had been unnecessarily sharp. ‘I just felt that he was unfair.’

  ‘When you have listened to several of Mr Tarleton’s poems, you may feel that Lord Coleridge was less unfair than you imagine.’

  ‘It was not his remark about the poetry that made me cross. However, you are right to censure me, Emily. I should not have been rude to him.’

  ‘I do not think Lord Coleridge a snob. We are all in the habit of calling persons in trade by that name, but it is not necessarily meant to disparage,’ Emily said. She looked at Helene’s face. ‘If something is troubling you, I would be happy to listen, Helene.’

  ‘You have been a good friend,’ Helene said. ‘There is nothing to tell you, but I do thank you for the offer.’

  Helene’s eyes stung with tears, but she refused to let them fall. She had made so many good friends and it made her sad when she thought about the future. When they left town she would probably never see any of them again.

  Lord Coleridge’s remark might not have been meant to disparage, but it showed what he must think of persons in trade. What would he say if he knew that Helene was the granddaughter of a tanner?

  Helene had never believed that she was at a disadvantage because of her background. Even when her mama had warned that Lord Coleridge’s family might find it objectionable she had believed that Max was above such things—but now she was not as sure.

  Supposing he decided that she was beneath his touch! To see him turn away in distaste would be so hurtful, she did not think that she could bear it.

  When Helene woke the next morning she was aware of a heavy feeling, as if a cloud hung over her. She wished that she had not promised to visit Lady Annersley, but Mama had told her that she must keep her word and of course it would be rude to cry off at the last.

  Helene dressed in a dark blue walking gown; it was severe but elegant and made her feel equal to the task. Lady Annersley’s house was in a fashionable square near by. She did not need to order the carriage, and she had no intention of asking Emily to accompany her. Instead, she summoned her maid.

  ‘I have a morning call to pay,’ she told the girl. ‘You will accompany me and wait in the hall. I dare say I shall not be more than a few minutes.’

  Tilly dropped a curtsy. ‘Yes, Miss Henderson.’

  Helene chose an elegant pelisse of deep yellow, which went well over the gown of dark blue, matching the ribbons on her bonnet. She was determined not to appear cowed. Whatever the lady had to say to her, she would remain polite and dignified and she would not lose her temper!

  Lord Coleridge’s opinion of Mr Tarleton’s poetry had proved justified in part. Helene would not go as far as to say he had no soul, but his work was certainly without passion. She was uncomfortably aware that she had been hasty in her condemnation; her temper was sometimes volatile and she must learn to control it!

  She held her head high as they reached their destination, standing back while her maid knocked at the door and then announced to the footman who answered that her mistress had come to call on Lady Annersley. Helene had had visions of being sent to the tradesman’s entrance, but the imposing front door was held wide and the footman inclined his head.

  ‘You are expected, Miss Henderson.’ He looked at Tilly. ‘You may sit there, girl. I shall take your mistress upstairs.’

  ‘I shall not be long.’ Helene looked apologetically at the girl, for she was a little apprehensive now that they were inside what was obviously a much grander house than Miss Royston’s. ‘Remember we are going shopping later. We shall buy you a new bonnet.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Tilly summoned a grin.

  Helene followed the footman up the wide staircase. It was hung with paintings of men and women, possibly past Dukes of Annesdale and their ladies, she thought, since it was the duke’s house.

  At the head of the stairs the footman turned to the right. They walked to the end of the landing and he threw open a pair of magnificent mahogany doors.

  ‘Her ladyship will be with you in a moment.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Helene walked into the room. It was furnished with heavy pieces of mahogany with richly bro caded upholstery. The walls were hung with more paintings, some of them landscapes, and there was a cabinet filled with what Helene thought must be gold objects at the far end. Everything was slightly opulent, almost decadent; it was clearly the home of a very rich and important family.

  She was studying one of the landscapes when she heard footsteps behind her. She drew a deep breath and turned slowly to face the woman who stood there, dipping in a slight curtsy.

  ‘Ma’am, I am come as you requested.’

  ‘I am glad of it,’ Lady Annersley replied. ‘I wish to talk to you for a moment alone—and then I should like to make you known to my father-in-law.’

  ‘Why?’ Helene lifted her head. ‘I do not
know what the duke can have to say to me, ma’am. I certainly have little to say to him.’

  ‘He has wanted to make himself known for some time,’ Lady Annersley said. ‘We were not informed of your birth, but it was brought to our attention some years later. Until recently it was not thought of any consequence. However, my husband died soon after the stillbirth of my last child.’

  ‘I am very sorry to hear that, ma’am,’ Helene said, her hackles rising at the woman’s arrogance. ‘I do not see what it can have to do with me?’

  ‘Has that woman told you nothing?’ Anger glittered in Lady Annersley’s eyes. ‘She ruined your father by marrying him and she has deliberately withheld the knowledge of your birth from Papa—and now she has withheld Annesdale’s offer from you. I do not know what your father ever saw in her. She was the daughter of a common tanner. Passable to look at, I dare say, but he could have done much better!’

  ‘You are wrong, ma’am. I know that I am the duke’s granddaughter—but still I have nothing to say. Because of the arrogance of Papa’s family, Mama has had much to bear.’

  ‘She is the daughter of a tanner. How your father can have been so lost to his duty as to have married such a person I do not know!’

  ‘I do not think you should say such things to me, ma’am,’ Helene said, feeling angry. ‘Mama has done you no harm…’

  ‘No harm? She brought our family into disgrace—’

  ‘You are the disgrace, ma’am,’ Helene cried as her good intentions fled. ‘I will have you know that I am proud of my mama and her family. I have had more kindness from them than from—’

  ‘You are insolent. If I had my way, you would not even have been invited here—’

  ‘Sarah, if you please…’ A gentleman had walked into the room. Helene knew at once that he was the duke. She was quivering with anger, stung by the unfairness of Lady Annersley’s attack. ‘You may leave us now, if you will.’

  ‘She should be made aware of her duty to you—to the family,’ Lady Annersley began angrily, but he lifted his hand and she was silenced. ‘Very well, have it your way…’ She walked from the room, clearly angry.