Musing thus, James settled back in his chair. It seemed the only recourse was to wait until his host awoke, however long it took.
Chapter 32
Helena could not bear to sit in her room another minute. But to go downstairs too soon would seem eager. What if the Duke of Durham heard her playing her harp long before their rendezvous? He would know then, that she had arrived early and had been waiting for him for some time. Yet the harp was the very thing that would relax her now.
She picked up several books and tried to read to no avail. She even tried to take a nap, which proved disastrous. She dozed lightly, only to be awakened when a servant girl came in with wood for her fire, startling them both. Helena had sat up, groggy and disoriented and sent the girl running.
Ever the beast, she thought grimly. I truly must ... must make an effort to change.
Finally, she could bear it no longer. Perhaps she could spend some time with Bridget in the kitchen watching her work the way she had as a child. She had not done so in such a long time, that she remembered the warmth of the workspace now with a particular fondness. Besides, then they could go together to the parlor, though Bridget had promised to be there right at the appointed time, despite the busyness of the kitchen.
“I shall have Maureen manage the serving up. Do not worry yourself, old Bridget will be there,” she had promised then gone back to supervising the peeling of the vegetables for the night’s stew.
Helena slipped out of her room and was halfway to the stairs when she heard a door open behind her. It was the voice of her aunt that stopped her. Helena almost automatically scratched at the lesion on her wrist through her glove as she turned to face Phoebe, who looked none too happy to be there.
“Yes, Aunt Phoebe?” she asked pleasantly, wishing she were better skilled in subterfuge for surely it had to be written upon her face that she was going to a secret meeting with her would-be lover.
“Why are you out of your room? I thought I told you clearly you were not to leave until dinner as punishment for your actions last night,” Phoebe said, her eyes narrowed in the way that they always had when Helena had been caught in some mischief as a child.
She had forgotten. She had actually forgotten that her father’s punishment was to stay in her room today, but for meals until dinner, at which point she would be allowed to entertain their guest after dinner by playing something ‘pleasant’ upon her harp.
“‘Twas only for a minute…” she began, knowing full well she would get nowhere with this. Though deep inside there was a small voice that had been reminding her of late that she was no longer a child, nor able to be punished in such a way. Others of her peers had been married, already with two or three children by now, and well managed their own households. Why did her father and aunt persist in seeing her only as a child?
So, it was she lifted her chin and found her voice for perhaps the first time in her life. “I am going to the sitting room. I wish to play the harp before dinner…for practice. I fear I have not played as much of late and will not put on near so fine as a performance as we saw last night.”
Phoebe’s lips tightened. “You defy your father then?” she asked, and for a moment Helena wondered if her aunt was so hard on her because her father, in turn, would be difficult with Phoebe for not keeping his unruly daughter under control.
Was it fair of her to hurt someone else to get what she wanted? Was that not the entire reason why she was going to meet with the Duke in the first place?
Helena sighed. She was tired of lies and subterfuge. She’d had quite enough and was suddenly very tired.
“Aunt Phoebe, what I say will likely come as a surprise, but I have been lying to you for some time now. It is in regards to the Duke of Durham and his reasons for being here.”
Then before she lost her courage, she spilled out the entire story, starting with the woman who had been lost in the blizzard and ending with her decision to end the entire affair before she hurt him any further.
There was a long moment of silence as Aunt Phoebe stared at her, her face carefully expressionless. Aunt Phoebe was like that, one to think things through before answering, and so Helena waited, though her heart quailed within her. Honestly, she should not have lied for so long, and it felt a terrible relief to have the full truth out in the open.
But it was also terrifying to think what terrible punishment would be meted out upon her for her behavior.
When Phoebe spoke, she seemed somewhat resigned. “Helena, I can only imagine what my dead sister would think to hear such a tale from your lips. Your behavior is absolutely appalling, and should your father find out about it, I shudder to think of the consequences.”
Helena shuddered despite herself. Deciding it was time to grow up and face the consequences for her actions was one thing. Actually, experiencing those consequences quite another. She had no doubt he would banish her to the country estate after this and never allow her out at all. Why…he might even take Phoebe from her.
Panicked now, Helena reached for her aunt’s hands. “Please, Aunt Phoebe, what do I need to do to make this right? I was already trying. I swear to you that my only intent in meeting him was to tell him the bargain is null and void. He can keep the brooch. I have no care for it anymore, and if it helps him somehow, maybe it will serve as payment for the damage I have already done him.”
Phoebe pursed her lips as she thought. “Your heart is in the right place, my sweet child, but you are entirely risking far too much in meeting him like that. Should Bridget be delayed, the scandal would be incredible. No, it is best you return to your rooms. Allow me to go in your place. I will explain things in a way that I think will leave everyone well satisfied.”
Helena’s heart leapt within her breast. While she longed so to see him again, to speak with him privately was too great a risk. Maybe it was better this way after all.
Still, she could not help but feel a twinge of disappointment that left her stomach churning and warring against the knowledge that this was indeed the right thing to do. She’d also wanted to see him, to be with him, even under the watchful gaze of her chaperone, because to be without him left a pang of sadness within her that could not be erased.
Maybe that is my penance, for acting so selfishly, she thought as she nodded miserably and returned to her door. Her footsteps lagged, and somehow the walk to her room became a journey of a thousand miles.
“Thank you, Aunt Phoebe,” she said quietly as she passed, pausing outside her room with her hand on the doorknob. “Tell him…” She tried to think, but none of the words in her mind were adequate to the task. “Tell him I am more sorry than he could ever possibly realize,” she said finally.
Then taking a deep breath, she slipped into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
It is better this way, she thought stubbornly as she leaned heavily on the door, too tired suddenly to go any further.
She did not start crying until she was sure her aunt was long gone and not likely to overhear her.
Chapter 33
Lucy had been restless ever since James had left. She could not get it out of her mind that this whole matter was entirely her fault — and that James did not know all the facts of the matter. There was a great deal he did not realize about the Duke of York or those within his household.
So, it was that Lucy drifted throughout the manor, noting the small inconsistencies, the tasks that were not getting done. Since he had lost his fortune, a full third of the staff had left, and she would not count on the next third to stay much longer. Rooms had grown dusty, the many bedrooms in the house felt empty in a way that they never had.
We always maintained the house to be ready for guests in an instant. It feels like defeat to cover over the furniture with sheets and to shut the doors as though no one will ever set foot in those rooms again.
The staff she met seemed downtrodden, moving through their assigned tasks, sometimes trying to do the work of two people in a desultory manner. Many came f
rom families that had served the Duke’s family for generations. These would stay until the last, though they were clearly worried.
Finally, she could take her own lack of a role with the household no longer. She had shuffled behind the scenes for too long. Noting that cobwebs graced the fine old portraits in the great hall, Lucy went to find a broom to knock them down.
She stood a long moment before the portrait of the most recent Duke, the one who had preceded her beloved James. She studied the stern expression, her own eyes softening a little for she remembered the Duke as one who loved to laugh, though she perhaps had given him little reason to.
“I told you I would look after him, but I have not done a good job of it, have I?” she asked and stretched to knock down the cobwebs, not quite reaching to the upper corners of the painting. The man in the painting made no answer, nor did she expect him to. Yet the somber gaze seemed to her somewhat censorious. With a grimace she eyed a nearby chair and rather than ask for help from one of the footmen, she dragged it over, beneath the painting and stretched a second time to finish the task she had started.
The chair wobbled beneath her feet.
Lucy clutched at the wall trying to steady herself, but her hands slid, having nothing to give her purchase. In desperation, she grabbed at the heavy frame hoping it was secure enough.
The broom clattered to the floor beneath her. Lucy looked down following its movements, and so didn’t see until it was too late that she had somehow dislodged the enormous frame. The entire painting seemed to hang above her for a moment attached to nothing at all, before it too went tumbling down, taking Lucy to the floor with it.
Chapter 34
James finally woke the Duke by shaking him firmly by the arm, until he’d snorted and come to an awareness of his surroundings. Luncheon was long since passed, and the servants had seemed most troubled at not being able to clear away the dishes with dinner so soon in the offing.
On the whole, it had been a deadly dull afternoon with nothing to do other than wait politely for the Duke of York to awaken. James had spent the time in planning out a finer courtship for his Lady, starting with a series of concerts and plays that he wished they could see.
He had been troubled by the problem with the ill-breeding of his fellow theatre-patrons. The surprise that some had experienced came only because they did not know Helena. He suspected that given time and exposure, the local elite would take to her in no time. After all, did they not already know her aunt? It was a wonder she had not been accepted previously just on the strength of that acquaintance.
But he also just wished for time spent in her company. Quiet walks or the sharing of a book. The indulgence of evenings spent in music and card games and fine companionship.
If she were uncertain of him, it was only due to that blasted brooch. He would give her his five visits and a hundred more until she realized that it was her, he was interested in and not some ridiculous piece of jewelry.
She should already realize it given he had returned that jewelry.
No matter. It was evident that the original agreement had tainted the situation they had now. He could only prove his devotion in his actions going forward from here, as he would likewise need to win her father if he expected to be granted her hand in marriage, especially given his penniless state.
And so, it was, he let the man sleep. And in the end, as the hour drew late, he wakened him as respectfully as possible.
“I was told to give this to you,” he said, handing over the folded paper when the man came to himself.
Barrington blustered, embarrassed by his unscheduled nap, and nearly waved the paper aside, but in the end, unfolded it, and read the few words inscribed within with widening eyes.
“Have you read this?” he asked, shaking the paper under James’s nose.
“No, Your Grace. I was told it was for you, and so the contents were none of my business,” James replied, perhaps a little more formally than was required, but feeling that to win the girl he must win the father, and the display of fine manners and good breeding would do well to put him in the old man’s graces.
“Harrumph.” Barrington read the note a second time. “Did you see who sent it?”
“I am afraid I have no knowledge of that. The young footman brought it in just moments after Miss Barlowe left. Perhaps she knows?”
Barrington’s entire countenance changed, going from puzzled to thoughtful to certain happiness in mere moments. “Yes, perhaps she does. Tell me, what hour is it?”
James eyed the wreckage of their luncheon, still not cleared away and eyed the servants who were peering more and more often from the doorway that led to the kitchen. “An hour before dinner, Your Grace. Maybe less.”
“An hour!” Barrington launched himself from his chair with such speed that the chair fell over backward with a crash against the floor. “I must…I have a matter to attend to.” With that, he left the room with more agility than James would have given him credit for had he not seen it with his own eyes.
James shook his head and followed more slowly, hearing behind him the excited hum of servants and the clatter of dishes as the table was finally cleared. Dinner would not be late in this household, he mused and realized that if he were perhaps a little more stern and strict in his expectations that he would have better luck in eating breakfast at the start of the day.
He was met in the hallway by Barrington’s own man. Antony. The man seemed most put out. “Your Grace, I am sorry to interrupt you, but a message has come to you from your home.”
“In this storm?” James turned to stare out the nearest window, trying to ascertain if the wind had let up any.
“A boy came, Alaric I think he was called. He said to inform you that your old governess has suffered a terrible fall and is calling for you. The doctor has been sent for, but the situation does not look good.” Antony cleared his throat awkwardly. “I am sorry I have had to tell you this way. Did you wish to send a return message?”
The words hit him like a blow. For a moment the room spun, and James thought he might be ill. He took a breath and then another. Lucy. Lucy who had raised him, dying? Surely it could not be so. She had been fine only that morning. “Tell him to stay put until the storm passes. I will…I must go myself…my carriage. If the horses can perhaps get through…”
Antony’s eyes were troubled. “Begging your Grace’s pardon, but it is hardly likely. The streets are nigh on impossible. You will not get a carriage through.”
“A horse then. If the Duke could lend me a steed…”
“The only one that would make it, Your Grace, would be his own personal mount.” Antony’s eyes were sympathetic.
“Then I must ask. I cannot…she raised me from a child. It would not be right…” His voice broke. No, there was no way he could possibly stay. Surely Helena would understand that he would return as soon as possible, that he would win her then. But in the meantime, this must…must be more important.
Mustn’t it?
“Where is the Duke now?”
Antony frowned a little. “I am unsure. If you could perhaps wait in the small parlor by the door, I will do what I can to arrange things for you.”
The small parlor felt like a prison. One footman had already run to fetch coat and gloves. He had talked to the boy from his own household and found out how grueling it had been to fight the storm on foot. There had been no other way to get there, and had the matter not been so urgent, he would have given up.
The boy’s tearful face though was what convinced him that the matter was urgent. The child loved Lucy, all the servants did, and the fact that he had been willing to brave the storm on her behalf told him that she must indeed be dying.
When Antony failed to return, James paced. Finally, he could bear it no longer. He would search every room in the house if need be. The sitting room. He would start there. With any luck, he would find someone else to ask. Perhaps Miss Barlowe or his beloved Helena would know.
Helena
. I need to tell her myself that I need to leave. She will understand if I but take a moment to explain.
With that in mind, he headed for the sitting room.
Chapter 35
The girl had given her an unlikely opportunity. Phoebe rushed for the stairs, realizing how short time was. Pinned to the inside of her dress lay the brooch. She’d carried it with her since the Duke had bid her return it. Unable to bear parting with the pretty bauble, she’d kept it close to her skin since, terrified that if she left it in her room, a servant would discover it and bring it to the attention of her brother-in-law.
Harcourt Barrington had been a necessary evil from the start. Why he had married her sister, she never knew. The story was that he had seen her from across a ballroom and could not bear to be without her from that moment. But Phoebe had overheard her sister complaining to her mother that she had turned down the man several times to no avail.
The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 19