Hélène’s eyes grew big. “But what good would your marrying Lady Virginia do?”
“Turns out my man of business in London had heard some rumors. Delacroix’s agent in Town has deserted his client after deciding the man was dishonest. He has put it about that Delacroix has some scheme afoot whereby he hopes to take over the management of an estate in Yorkshire.”
“Yorkshire?”
“I have to assume that he is referring to mine, my love. I have written to my estate manager there, and also the Chief Constable, who was my father’s closest friend. There must be a plot afoot between my man in Yorkshire and Delacroix. I have been beating my brains trying to work it out.”
“Do you trust your estate manager?”
“I have been very delinquent. I hardly know him and have taken little interest in my estate since my father died.”
Hélène plumped her pillows behind her and studied Christian’s beloved but worried eyes. “Do you think it possible that he is cheating you? That somehow Lord Delacroix has discovered it?”
“That is the only conclusion I have been able to come to. The problem is my father trusted Sykes, my estate agent. They were friends. Sykes and he went to school together. But Sykes had no estate of his own. His father had lost it in a bad gamble. He and my father were close as brothers. I cannot imagine him cheating me. And even if he were, how would Delacroix come to hear of it? He’s from Dorset—literally the other end of the Kingdom.”
“You will unravel it,” Hélène said with confidence. “I will wager that your father’s friends will be able to discover what is happening.”
His eyes adjusted from their faraway gaze to focus on Hélène. She felt their scrutiny and was well enough today to be embarrassed by it.
“I look a fright, I know,” she said. “I do not suppose you are ready for me to reveal to the good people of Chipping Norton that I am alive?”
“You look good enough to eat, poppet.” He kissed her on the nose. “Although, I am not at all used to your being so quenched. When shall your fire return, do you think? It is not gone forever, I hope.”
To her surprise, tears rose in her eyes, but she managed a smile. “I am that weak, still. It is mortifying. I should like to tear a strip off you, but I cannot think of a reason.”
His eyebrows rose. “I am seriously alarmed. Has anyone had you out of bed? Have you tried walking?”
She shook her head.
To her surprise, he threw back her blankets and scooped her up in his arms. “Here we are. Put your feet on the floor and take a turn about the room.”
To her chagrin, Hélène required his arm. Her legs resembled jelly. They walked around the room twice and then he lowered her back upon her bed. “Have you been eating well?”
She crinkled her nose. “Mrs. Knobbs is very kind, but their fare is limited. Mostly meat pies, which are far too heavy for a person confined to bed. Perhaps, my lord, it might help if you left some money for them to buy some more provisions—a chicken for broth, perhaps. Some vegetables and apples.”
“I shall avail myself of the bed they have made up for me in the parlor, and go on a shopping expedition in the morning. After thinking you were lost to me forever, believe me when I tell you, Hélène, your recovery is my first concern.”
“But you cannot be riding here every day to see me, much as I would like for you to. Lord Delacroix would become suspicious. Keep in touch by letter. And perhaps you could discreetly send my sister Jacqueline to look after me. She will take me walking in the garden and cook for me until I am fine as five pence.”
“I will communicate the progress of my investigation daily by letter. And I will send the first one with Jacqueline.”
“Very well, Christian. Now, you must get some sleep.”
Leaning down once more he dropped a series of kisses on her hairline, her ear, down to her jaw, finishing with a short salute on her mouth. “I must leave you, darling. You are far too tempting.”
“Good night and good hunting,” Hélène whispered.
As he left the room, she realized that they had never yet solved the problems that lay between them . . . her teaching and his desire to be active in parliament, her desire to be treated as an equal in marriage, her need to be active in the fight for women’s education . . .
Somehow, all those things had become less pressing when she was faced with the stark possibility of death and eternal separation. Hélène realized her greatest desire was to be Christian’s wife. However, she knew herself well enough to know that her life’s mission would beckon again when she was more the thing. Yes. She and Christian had to have a discussion after he had figured out the more pressing problem of why Lord Delacroix was so anxious to promote the marriage between his sister and Christian. She believed he was on the right track and stirred with impatience at having to rest on the sidelines.
{ 21 }
CHRISTIAN WAS WELCOMED at the White Hart by a sober Lady Virginia. He could scarcely look her in the eye, knowing what she had been party to.
“Oh, my lord, where have you been? I have been so worried about you.”
“Urgent affairs called me to London. I needed to see the Duke of Ruisdell about the fate of Hélène’s sisters. He will be taking them into his care.” He spoke the lie with complete assurance. “Why do you linger here in Chipping Norton?”
“I have been helping out at the school,” she said. “I thought I might be of help to you that way. I am so sorry for your loss. I had no idea you cared for dear Hélène so very deeply.” Lady Virginia bowed her head.
“Thank you for your condolences,” he said, straining to keep the irony from his voice.
“Miss Hilliard is arranging a memorial service. We were only awaiting your return.”
“I shall ride over to the school and speak with her. Now, I must change out of my dirt and go see the Whitcombe sisters.”
*~*~*
He had visited the girls prior to his London journey in order to tell them that Hélène was alive, and was now happy to see them again. He looked forward to the day when the cheerful girls could live with him and Hélène rather than with a woman they scarcely knew.
“Lord Shrewsbury, how is she?” inquired the ragged chorus of Hélène’s siblings.
“She is recovering well, but she requires Jacqueline to come to her.”
“Tell me, my lord,” said Monique. “Is she as much in love with you, as you are with her?”
“I do not think that would be possible, but yes, she professes to love me.”
“Will she marry you?” asked Anne-Marie.
“She has had the temerity to compare my proposal to the unfortunate Mr. Darcy’s. However, I have hopes that one day, she will consent to marry me. We must get this business of Lord Delacroix attended to first.”
He told them what he had found out in London. Anne-Marie seemed uninterested in Lord Delacroix. She was distracted and unable to keep still. Finally, he said, “Anne-Marie, is there something on your mind?”
“I was just wondering, my lord, if you and Hélène are married, could we . . . that is . . . would you consider having us to live with you?”
“I was just thinking how delightful that was going to be,” Christian said with an encouraging smile.
“I believe I will stay in Chipping Norton, my lord,” said Jacqueline. “I should like to take over Hélène’s position at the school.”
Hope sparked in Christian’s breast. Here was a solution, if only Hélène would see it that way. Might she be convinced to give up her post to Jacqueline?
“You must bring that up with your sister. She intended to keep teaching. That was one of the barriers we faced. I must live in London for part of the year while Parliament is in session, you see.”
Jacqueline smiled. “You may leave it to me, my lord.”
“You give me hope, Miss Whitcombe. You do, indeed.”
*~*~*
Mr. Blakeley met him in the office of the woolen mill—a utilitarian room with a
desk and two wooden chairs. When Christian told him what he had uncovered in London, the man gave his report. “Delacroix is going through the motions of a man with a broken heart. It is especially hard to stomach. I will be glad when the Chief Constable takes him in charge so I don’t have to look at his face.”
“I feel sure that I will hear something from Yorkshire at the first opportunity.” Christian shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I say, I hope you will forgive my impertinence in falling in love with the woman you thought to marry. Believe me, it was most unexpected.”
Samuel carefully moved a pen on the desk from the left side to the right. “Love can be that way. I have missed Miss Whitcombe-Hodge’s help with my speeches, but it has been a good time for me to learn to stand on my own, since she won’t be marrying me.”
“For what it’s worth, you will make a fine MP.”
“Shall you use her help in your speeches before the Lords?”
“I have been asking myself that question, as Miss Whitcombe-Hodge certainly will want to know before she consents to marry me. She and her sisters are a good advertisement for the pitfalls women can fall into through no fault of their own. The timing of her issues may be wrong now, with consciousness of the French Revolution still so high, but I have a feeling that there will be a time to broach her concerns in the Lords. As my hostess, undoubtedly, she will lose no time making her feelings known. I have the advantage of you, having a permanent seat as I do. No one can vote me down for my wife’s opinions!”
“I have decided that when the time is right, I will propose a bill for universal education,” Blakeley said. “When I thought Miss Whitcombe was dead, I determined to do it. Women are left in a very precarious position in society with little they can do to have control over their own lives unless or until they marry.”
“I agree with you.” Rising, he took Samuel’s hand and shook it. “I know that we will always be in touch.”
*~*~*
That afternoon, he sat down to compose a letter to Hélène.
My dearest love,
I am in hopes that the barriers to our marriage are swiftly being done away. I have just spoken with Blakeley and we have agreed that our views have changed in the area of women’s rights due to your example and that of your sisters. At some time in the future, when the events of the Revolution have faded to a greater extent, he and I intend to introduce a bill for universal education. I shall also look into other women’s issues that you may bring up.
As my wife, you would have a great deal of freedom at salons and political entertainments to air your views. Unlike what would be the case if you were to marry Blakeley, I cannot lose my seat in the Lords unless I am to turn criminal.
I know it is also a great concern that I treat you as an equal in our marriage. Any objection to that has long ago been done away. You have proved more than my equal—you have proved my superior, darling. I believe you were far more honest with yourself about your feelings for me than I was in mine for you. (Thus the Mr. Darcy speech! I know you will never let me forget it.)
I pray that you will be my wife, that you will be mine forever. And I pray that you will always be outspoken and keep me up to the mark.
Rest well, my love.
S.
Taking his letter, he went to call on Mrs. Blakeley.
“Oh, my dear Lord Shrewsbury. I am that distraught over this business with Hélène! How on earth did she come to be drowned? Surely that Lord Delacroix could have saved her!”
“I have come to tell you the truth of the matter, Mrs. Blakeley, and to ask, once again for your generous help. It is Lord Delacroix who threw our dear Hélène into the river, but, no thanks to him, she did not drown.”
“What! Lord Delacroix! But she is not dead? Oh do tell me!”
Christian related all of his beloved’s experiences and what was being done to find Delacroix’s motive in order that he could be arrested by the Chief Constable and tried with success in the House of Lords.
“Oh! What a terrible, terrible thing. I thank Providence that she has been saved. It can only be a miracle.”
“Now, I know it will be tempting to tell your friends, and the teachers at the school, but we do not want to scare off Lord Delacroix, so I must ask you to keep all this in confidence.”
“Of course, my lord. And in what way do you need my help?”
“Miss Jacqueline Whitcombe needs a chaperone so that she may go to her sister. I think her presence will greatly raise Hélène’s spirits. Would you be willing to travel with her tomorrow, first thing in the morning? And to think up some excuse for your excursion? I do not want the Mowbrays to suspect anything.”
“I will say I am taking her to Town to confer with the duke about her future.”
“Splendid idea!” he said. “Just one other thing. May I dine with you tonight? I do not think I could bear the company of the Mowbrays for dinner.”
“That would be splendid! You have yet to meet my fine husband. He has heard so much about you.”
*~*~*
Christian remained in a first class funk as he tried to entertain himself the next few days, while eluding either of the Mowbrays. He spoke to Miss Hilliard about having the Memorial Service held after Miss Blakeley and Jacqueline returned. He did this to give Lady Virginia and Lord Delacroix an excuse for staying in the neighborhood.
He received a letter from Hélène by return of post:
Dearest Christian,
I never understood until I met you what a frustrating, exhilarating, and confounding thing love would be. When I first met you, I challenged everything you stood for. Now, after fighting my own inclinations most strenuously, I am ready to surrender. I will always retain in remembrance those awful lessons I learned as a single woman with no prospects in the world, but I am resigned to entering the married state—for that is the only way I can be with you. When this time apart is through, I never wanted to be parted from you again. Cold, deadly water taught me that lesson.
My dearest Jacquie has told me of her scheme for teaching in my stead, and I think that is a very good idea. I realize that my opportunities to teach are not limited to Chipping Norton. We can open a school for unfortunate children (boys and girls) no matter where we live. There certainly are enough of them in the world.
I love you deeply, wholly, and forever,
Your Hélène
Christian was so elated by this letter that he took Blakeley out for a pint that evening, and together they waxed eloquent on the many virtues of Miss Hélène Whitcombe. They also worked on writing a speech for Blakeley to give in her honor about the rescuing and education of orphan girls from the East End. Falling asleep that night, Christian was endlessly grateful for the notion of the girl’s school that had brought him together with the prickly Miss Whitcombe, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health.
*~*~*
Finally, the letters he was waiting for arrived for him in care of Samuel Blakeley—a cautionary measure to keep them from falling into the hands of Delacroix at the White Hart.
The first he opened was from his father’s steward.
Dear Lord Shrewsbury,
I was shocked to receive your letter containing the assertions of Lord Delacroix, who has been a companion of my son’s since their days together at Oxford. I immediately questioned Arnold regarding them.
It was a difficult discussion. I learned that for several years, as my under steward, he has been diverting vast amounts of income from the estate into his own pocket. He made the mistake of telling Delacroix of this on his last visit here. The man threatened to tell you of his theft if he did not pay him a significant amount of money. I now see that what he intended, after the marriage of you to his sister, was to throw the blame on me, bring about my dismissal and secure the place of steward for himself. My son has been living in fear of both of us losing our places. The rents here are very reasonable, in fact very low. Arnold says that Delacroix intends to double the rents without telling you, and po
cketing the excess monies. This would give him an income approaching yours.
I am hoping that you can forgive my son, whom I have dismissed. If you should desire to turn him over to the Chief Constable for his crime, I will understand.
I sincerely hope you will be able to apprehend Delacroix for his attempted murder and that we will never again see him in these parts.
Yours Sincerely,
Joseph Barton, Esq.
Christian marveled at Delacroix’s complex scheme to repair his fortunes. The man was indeed as devilish as he looked.
The Chief Constable’s letter showed his ignorance of the entire plot. Christian was very glad he had taken the step of writing to Barton directly.
He lost no time in delivering the letter to Chief Constable Wilkins. After reading it, the man said, “A complex, conniving, and devilish plot. Blackmail, escalating into attempted murder. We shall have the man now!”
Immediately, Wilkins clapped on his hat and followed Christian’s horse into town. He marched into the White Hart to find Delacroix writing letters in the private parlor.
“Well, my lord,” the constable said, producing a pair of manacles. “It is past time I arrested you for attempted murder of Miss Hélène Whitcombe.”
Delacroix leapt to his feet, looking back and forth between Christian and Wilkins like a trapped animal. Shoving the constable out of the way, he attempted to run, but Christian dove after him, bringing him down on the hard wooden floor.
“You are finished, Delacroix! We know of your blackmail, as well. Needless to say, you will never be my steward, you will lose your family’s home, and you will most likely be hanged.”
For good measure, Christian dealt the man his most skillful right hand punch, knocking him out cold.
Lady Virginia, evidently having heard the commotion, looked into the room. Her mouth formed a soundless “o.”
“My lady, accept my assurances that I will never be marrying you. At this juncture, I do not know how much you had to do with the attempted murder of my fiancée. A jury will have to determine that.”
The Baron and the Bluestocking Page 17