by Joan Smith
The servant came with the coffee, and Helena used it as an excuse to leave. She went straight home and wrote her father a note describing her visit. “If you love her, Papa, insist she stop drinking before you marry her. If she loves you, she will do it. And if you love her, you should recall Gagehot to Spain, not that he will necessarily heed your summons. I am having a lovely Season. I miss you. Your loving daughter, Helena.”
Over lunch, she told Lady Hadley of her morning visit and felt better for having someone older to advise her.
“Mercy! She sounds horrid. Algernon always had low taste in women. I do not mean your mama, my dear. I never met her. But before he left England, he always had some unseemly bit o’ muslin in tow. He would not be thinking of marrying this Petrel person if there were any decent English ladies there.”
“I think you are right, Madrina. I met very few English ladies and did not realize Moira was so vulgar. Her husband was an officer, you know; she followed the drum a few years with him. That would be bound to have a lowering effect. When she behaved differently from our other friends, I thought it was just the English way. Now that I have met many inglésas, I see she is different. I hope she marries Mr. Gagehot. Papa will find a new flirt and get over her.”
“Could we help Gagehot along, do you think?”
“Perhaps Papa could give him a better-paying post in London, with no need to go to Spain. Moira doesn’t want to go back. I fear it would be fatal to her health and happiness—to say nothing of Papa’s—if she did.”
Helena began remembering the better days with Moira and wished she could help her. She must help her; it was a lady’s duty. She said, “Whatever else we do or do not accomplish, Madrina, I must help Moira overcome this love of sherry. She acquired her fondness for it when she was with Papa, so in a way it is his fault. He would do no less if he were here.”
“I believe there are nursing homes that treat such cases.”
“She would never enter one voluntarily, and I have no authority to have her committed. I must visit her again soon. With Gagehot’s help, I might exert some slight influence.”
N”But if she recovers, there is no saying Algernon won’t marry her. I cannot like to see him make a fool of himself again. As if marrying a Sp—” She came to an embarrassed stop. “Well, if he does marry her, at least she will be sober.”
“And English,” Helena added, with a quizzing smile.
“It just slipped out. If your mama was anything like you, I am sure Algernon was more fortunate than he deserved.”
“I am not offended, Madrina. Friends may be quite truthful with each other without giving offense. I wish I could achieve such a frank arrangement with Severn. You and I can speak to each other without coming to cuffs. One would think a young man would be more lenient than his mama in social matters.”
“I see my son has been nagging at you. He is becoming like his papa since he began visiting Whitehall. We shan’t mention your little scheme to him.”
Helena went abovestairs to prepare for lunch. She hoped she could keep straight in her head just what was a secret from whom.
Chapter Sixteen
Marion came alone for the carriage drive that afternoon. Her mama was entertaining some friends at tea. Marion wore a dashing new bonnet and a new coiffure. She did not look lovely; nature is not that easily influenced. But she looked better. Her manner was also less disagreeable than formerly. She complimented Helena on her bonnet and smiled twice during a brief conversation with Lady Hadley.
“Let us go to Hyde Park today,” she said when they went out to the tilbury. “We have been to Bond Street so often.”
“It is a little early. The crowd won’t be there yet.”
“We could descend and go for a walk. It’s a lovely day.”
It sounded a dull scald to Helena, but the driving was easier, and she welcomed the opportunity for some quiet thinking. They went to Hyde Park, where Lady Helena handed the reins to her groom while she and Marion enjoyed a quiet stroll along one of the paths. Before they had walked fifty yards, Mr. Malvern detached himself from a tree and came toward them.
Helena’s instinct was to run back to the carriage. She owed Mr. Malvern an apology and would make it, but not when Marion was present, with her ears on the stretch. She said, “Let us go back to the carriage, Marion.”
Marion gave her a cool look. “Because of Mr. Malvern? I should think you would welcome the chance to apologize to him. Oh yes, I know all about last night. Malvern told me.”
“I see. In that case, I shall make my apology, and then we shall leave.”
Malvern advanced uncertainly, watching their faces for a clue to his likely welcome.
“Mr. Malvern, what a surprise,” Marion said. She was so unaccustomed to prevarication that a child could see she had planned the meeting.
“I am dreadfully sorry for last night,” Helena said. “Leaving without even saying good-bye or thanking you. Did you ... er ... manage to get home all right?” She did not like to mention the money in front of Marion.
“Certainly I did, I am grateful to see that you survived. Severn looked ready to kill someone, and as you were kind enough not to lead him in my direction, I feared you might be the casualty. I returned to Stephen’s after he had left.”
“I managed to tame the savage beast, but I fear he knew somehow that you were my accomplice.” She smiled.
“That is my fault,” Marion said. “I let it slip last night. I saw the two of you heading for the door together. If you had taken me into your confidence, I might have helped you.”
Helena stared at her cousin as if she had run mad. Ask Marion’s help in chicanery? She would as soon ask the pope to swear. “Somehow that did not occur to me,” she said blankly. She noticed from the corner of her eye that Marion had linked her arm through Malvern’s.
Marion said, “Let us continue our stroll, Cousin.” Then she turned to Malvern and directed her conversation to him.
The words “last evening” were often repeated. Soon Helena figured out that Malvern had returned to Mrs. Stephen’s rout and told Marion the whole story. She assumed it was then that this assignation had been set up. They were using her and her carriage as a means of carrying out this clandestine meeting!
She might be in Malvern’s debt, but she owed Marion nothing. Her hot blood rose and she said, “I really must be going now. It was nice meeting you again, Mr. Malvern.”
“I hope we shall meet again soon, and often, Lady Helena.” Then he bowed punctiliously and left.
Helena turned a wrathful eye on Marion. “You arranged this meeting, Marion, and don’t bother to deny it.”
Marion tossed her head. “What of it? You have done worse. You convinced Malvern to take you to that masquerade ball.”
“I see you are his confidante! I had a very good reason for requiring his escort to that ball, and I did not involve you in it. You have involved me in your little escapade.”
Marion jumped to his defense. “Ladies are always using him! They think because he has no fortune that he may be sent hither and thither, doing things they would not ask someone they consider worthier to do. Malvern is a gentleman, and if you have further need of an escort to undesirable places, I would appreciate your asking someone else to accompany you.”
“You sound extremely proprietary, Marion. What is it to you if Malvern helps me from time to time? Your mama would never allow you to marry him. I would not have thought an à suivi flirtation just in your style?” Her cool inflection made it a question.
Marion looked her in the eye and replied boldly, “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think. As to Malvern’s eligibility, he has breeding, if not money. Between us, we could manage. He is very clever, you must know.”
“I see you have been giving this a deal of thought. If I were in your shoes, I would ask myself whether it was me or my money he is interested in.”
“I would ask myself the same thing if I were you, being courted by Severn,” Marion
retorted.
“I am not being courted by Severn! And he has plenty of blunt of his own.”
“He hasn’t that much while Lord Hadley is alive, and the Hadleys are long livers. He would like to have twenty-five thousand at his beck and call.”
They walked toward the carriage in silence after that frank exchange. It was the second time someone had hinted to Helena that it was her fortune Severn was interested in. Malvern had said the same thing last night.
When the groom was driving them home, Helena said, “I don’t see that Severn has any need of my money. He lives in a very good style. He doesn’t gamble, or keep a lightskirt, or have any expensive vices so far as I have determined.” Marion snorted. “Well, has he?”
“Not at the moment,” Marion said.
“He must have some money of his own to cover his daily expenses. An allowance, or inheritance.”
“He is actually quite well to grass, but he does have one expensive vice.” Helena’s eyes widened in interest. “His new vice appears to be politics. The parties are always looking for money to buy rotten boroughs or advance their various causes. The court sinecures mostly go to the Tories, since Prinny has taken up with Lady Hertford. I have often heard Brougham bemoan the Whigs’ lack of funds. If Severn contributed heavily to the party coffers, there would be some onus on Brougham to repay him with a top position if they ever come into power.”
“Good God,” Helena murmured. “I thought the wine business was corrupt, but it is nothing compared to this. And Severn speaking as if he were Caesar’s wife, lecturing me for any little thing.”
Marion gave a sardonic smile. “Perhaps he is training you up to be his wife. The Whigs are known for their clever hostesses. You wanted a great man, Helena. A great man requires a wife who behaves with propriety, as well as having a fortune. You notice the duke hasn’t called on you recently.”
“What do you mean?” Helena asked at once.
“I daresay Severn hinted him away.”
The carriage jogged on. The ladies sat, not glaring at each other, but not enjoying a comfortable silence either. The air bristled with animosity.
Marion was to be delivered to her own house that day, as Mrs. Comstock was receiving company. Lady Helena was invited in, but she declined and returned to Belgrave Square.
Her mind was awhirl with the ideas Marion had planted in it. Severn courting her for her fortune? Severn training her up for a proper political hostess? Severn turning Rutledge off? It was not to be borne. Secret knowledge was power. She would not confront him with her knowledge, but she would bear it in mind. A lady’s inferior social position required her to employ more guile, and in all modesty, she felt she outstripped Severn in that respect.
She was all amiability when he returned early from the House. “Did you and Marion have a nice drive?” he asked.
“Lovely. We went to Hyde Park at an early hour to avoid the crowds.” She said not a word about meeting Malvern. “Marion invited me to her place for tea, but I knew you would be home early,” she said, modestly lowering her lashes.
Severn accepted this as his due. “I made a special effort to get away early. Brougham was not too pleased with me, I fear. He had called a meeting about raising the wind to help out a young fellow we got elected in a by-election. The fellow is a fine orator, but his pockets are to let.”
“Could some paying position not be found for him?” she asked innocently.
“That is not so easy for us Whigs to arrange, but Oxford is putting in a word with some friends of his.”
“It must be hard to run a party that is not in power. People are more likely to contribute to the reigning party, in hopes of receiving some political reward.”
“You have hit the nail on the head, Helena. You have a good grasp of politics. You would make a fine political hostess,” he added, taking her hand and gazing into her eyes.
Was this his idea of courting? She was furious. She hoped her angry flush might be mistaken for a blush and made a simpering face. They did not go out for a drive after all.
Severn delivered a lecture on politics instead, and Helena pretended to hang on his every word. Since their embrace in the carriage, he was beginning to think marrying her would not be such an imposition, and it would please Papa.
At the ball that evening, Helena made sure to stand up with Rutledge and behaved with the maximum allowable degree of flirtation. When he did not ask if he might call the next day, she felt Marion was right. Severn had hinted him away. Her fury rose a notch.
The next morning and for the next few subsequent days, she went to call on Mrs. Petrel-Jones, always informing her that she would return the next morning, in hopes that this would at least delay the day’s drinking. She bought pamphlets on the evil of drink from a street stall and gave them to Moira.
“Please don’t think it encroaching of me,” she said when she presented them, “but I cannot like to see you like this. You are destroying your health. And your looks, Moira,” she added daringly. Being a lady herself, Helena knew this warning might have more weight than the rest of the arguments put together.
“It becomes a habit,” Moira tried to explain. “When I’m alone, remembering how I thought the world would be when I was young and seeing how it turned out, I just get so melancholy, the only comfort is in the bottle.”
“There are places you can go to be cured.”
“Lord, they cost the moon!”
“I would be happy to pay, if that is all—”
“I’ll not have it said I’m that far gone. I’ll try, dear. Between you and Lester, you just might cure me yet.”
Something seemed to be having some effect. When Helena called on the fourth morning, Moira sat sipping tea. She was completely sober. The customary decanter and glass were not on the table beside her.
“Lester is taking me to meet his sister today,” Moira announced. “Now I don’t want you thinking it means anything, Helena. It doesn’t mean I love your papa a jot less. It is just that Lester is here, and Algernon is an ocean away.”
“Of course, I understand. I am sure Papa would like to be here, but you know his work keeps him in Spain.”
“Do you think he’ll ever come back?”
“Perhaps, for a short visit after the war.”
“A short visit,” Moira said glumly.
“As you are expecting Gagehot soon, I shall leave early today. I hope you have a nice visit with his sister.”
When Helena left the apartment, she waited outside in her tilbury until Gagehot arrived, and she called him to her. He looked as guilty as a poacher with a jiggling bag over his shoulder.
“Will you join me for a moment, Gagehot?” she said.
He got into the carriage. “I daresay you are wondering what brings me here on a work day. Moira is lonesome, poor soul,” he said. “I drop in to try to cheer her up.”
“That is kind of you, Mr. Gagehot. I wonder if Papa appreciates all you do for him.”
He gave her a leery look, suspecting a sting in the tail of that compliment. “I don’t neglect your father’s business, if that is what—”
“No, no. You misunderstand me. I have noticed several shops selling our sherry,” she said, not quite truthfully. “It must take a deal of effort on your part to make so many calls, encouraging buyers.”
“That it does,” he said, happy to quit the other subject.
“When you are in Spain, who handles the selling to the wholesalers here in England?”
“No one. I do that when I am in England. I spend only a few months in Spain, mostly rounding up continental customers.”
“I shall tell Papa you require an assistant, Mr. Gagehot.”
His face turned red with annoyance. “If you are suggesting that I ought to spend more time in Spain, Lady Helena, I should tell you that I am reaching that age when I would prefer to be at home more. If he cannot win Mrs. Petrel-Jones by fair—”
“You misunderstand me, sir,” she said, directing a speaking glan
ce at him. “I think Papa needs a full-time man in Spain to handle the continental customers, which would allow you to remain in England. You would be in charge of this junior man, with, of course, an increase in salary.”
He seemed perplexed at the idea of receiving more money for less work. “Eh?”
“You would make Moira an admirable husband,” she said bluntly.
“Not so high and mighty a one as your papa,” he said, confused. “Why are you scheming behind your own papa’s back to defeat him?” Gagehot demanded.
“Papa has no heir, you know. The family feels a younger lady—”
“Ah, so that’s how it is. I shouldn’t have thought Moira is past it, but there’s no denying she’s been fruitless so far. Perhaps it’s the drink. I’m trying to curb that unfortunate tendency.”
“With some success, too. I believe if she was happily married, with a husband and friends and relatives, she would settle down. She mentioned meeting your sister today.”
“I thought that a happy notion myself. Lucy is a great one for running around to the shops and picnics and dances.”
“Let me know how it goes. And about that promotion and salary increase, Mr. Gagehot—I shall write to Papa today.”
“He won’t go for it if he tumbles to your game, milady.”
“My game?” she asked innocently. “I only want to see you properly reimbursed for your duties and to cut down on your traveling, now that you have developed that little health problem.”
“What problem is that?” he asked, grinning.
“Oh, heart trouble, I think. I shall let you go to her now. Nice talking to you.”
“Very nice indeed, Lady Helena.” He got out and bowed before turning to the apartment house.
Lady Helena went straight home and wrote to her father, explaining that Mr. Gagehot was worked to the bone and needed an assistant. He really should not be traveling abroad with his troublesome heart.
She received her first letter from her father the next morning, asking if she had found Moira. He sounded so eager that she almost regretted her scheme. In order to break the bad news to him gently, she wrote that she visited Moira daily and was concerned for her health. A return to Spain’s harsh climate, she feared, might be fatal. Would it be possible for Papa to live in England?