The Melody of A Lady's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Aria Norton

  “Well, I must get going. I don't want Beatrix knowing I'm here.”

  That was a strange thing to say. “What do you mean?”

  “Only that I came to see you yesterday, but she refused to let me in. She fairly screeched at me. I know that men are rather obtuse when it comes to women, but you have to be blind to not see her involvement in all this. I don't know what she has done, but I'm confident she is partly to blame.”

  Nathaniel couldn't understand why Rose would imply such a thing. “Beatrix has always been supportive of me. She would never do anything to hurt me.”

  Rose stood up. "I wouldn't be so certain if I were you. Beatrix obviously wishes to marry you, but Helena in the way... Well, I'll let you figure out the rest. I'll take my leave."

  Frowning, Nathaniel walked Rose to the door. “When would be the best time to see them?”

  “Early evening when they are more relaxed. If I were you, I would come this evening. Time is of the essence.”

  And with that, Rose left. Facing the Earl and Countess was going to be a challenge, but knowing Helena cared for him was enough for Nathaniel to set aside his fears and pride and see her parents.

  “I have to try. The consequences be damned.”

  Chapter 23

  Margaret kept a close eye on her daughter, hardly able to eat her food. Dinner was typically part of the day when Helena would be at her chattiest as she regaled them with tales of her day. That had all ended the day they stepped foot in London.

  “Dear, would you like some more gravy?” Margaret asked. “Your roast duck seems a tad dry.”

  Helena looked at her plate as though seeing it for the first time. "It's fine, Mama. I prefer meat not drenched in gravy."

  To seemingly prove her point, Helena cut a piece and popped it in her mouth. Margaret watched her daughter chew and chew the small piece, only swallowing when she had a sip of wine.

  “That tough?” said Margaret.

  Helena smiled faintly. “A little. Perhaps Cook left the bird in the oven a little longer than necessary.”

  "Yes, I think so, too," Margaret agreed. "The vegetables are delicious, particularly the potatoes. So lovely and crispy."

  Yes. Lovely and crispy,” Helena repeated.

  Margaret watched her daughter bow her head once more, slowly shovelling food into her mouth. Helena didn't appear to taste anything, she simply looked like she wanted to finish the meal and be off. Giving a little sigh, Margaret looked to her husband. Henry's worried eyes were also on his daughter. He, too, had not eaten much from his plate.

  “I heard a chap talking about bringing in some Arabian horses, child,” he said. “Why don't we go see them together? You have a critical eye for good horses.”

  Their daughter slowly raised her head. “If you don't mind, Papa, I would rather stay at home.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, child,” Henry quickly agreed. “There's no need to come with me. Do you need a little more nip money?”

  Helena shook her head. “I have enough.”

  Margaret could believe that because Helena had hardly been shopping. I hoped she might at least go shopping for her art supplies, but she remains at home unless Luke comes to call on her for a walk. What has become of my beautiful daughter? Margaret knew she and her husband were to blame.

  Dessert was served, but Helena hardly ate anything of her syllabub and excused herself soon after. Margaret watched her walk away, her heart squeezing tight.

  “We're losing her, Henry.”

  “I know, my dove. Nothing we say or do seems to bring her out of this... this melancholy. I thought Luke would help her back to her old self, but she only seems to worsen. I don't know what else to do about our daughter.”

  Margaret shares her husband's sentiments. "Neither do I. Can we call this new person our daughter? She is nothing like Helena."

  Someone else might criticise them for looking a gift horse in the mouth. Helena was far more docile, quiet, and never stepped a foot out of place. This is what Margaret and Henry had wanted from her, but seeing how different their lives were without their daughter's usual exuberant self had made them realise that they loved their daughter with all her flaws. Yes, she was rather argumentative, debated until she achieved her own way, was always running after things no proper lady should want and was generally different from their friends' daughters. However, this drive to live life to the fullest had brought so much excitement and joy in Margaret and Henry's life. There was never a dull moment with their daughter around, and Helena always knew what to do or say to raise their spirits.

  “We wanted this change,” said Margaret. “And now that we have it, we don't want it. I cannot help but feel we are terrible parents.”

  Margaret bit back a sob, but a tear still trickled down her cheek. Henry covered her hand with his own, raising it to his mouth.

  “Do not despair, my dear. We will find a way to bring her joy back.”

  “How?”

  “I'm trying to remain positive. If we give up...” he shook his head. “I don't want to even think about it.”

  Margaret already felt her hope was slipping away. She always thought she never needed to wear jewels because Helena was brighter than any diamond, ruby, pearl, sapphire, or emerald. Helena sparkled with life and made life an adventure.

  “Do you recall how she would always tell us everything? Helena never hid anything from us. Now, I feel that she is living a whole life without us.”

  "I also have the feeling that she's keeping things from us," Henry agreed. "But can we blame her? We probably lost her trust the day we interfered in her life. Yes, we thought we were doing the right thing, but I'm not so sure any more."

  Margaret's eyes filled. "I want our daughter back, Henry. I'm tired of living like this! I'll call off the wedding if I have to. We both know Luke is not the man for our daughter. She's only marrying him to please us."

  “Let's not be hasty, my dove,” said her husband, patting her hand. “We should try to speak to her first and perhaps reason with our daughter. We cannot make any more decisions without her. We've done enough of that.”

  Margaret knew her husband was right, but she was so desperate to set things right that she was willing to do anything now to bring their daughter back to her old self.

  "Very well. But what if Helena says she wishes to marry Luke? We both know she'll never be happy in her marriage. He's kind and respectful, but a dreadful bore."

  “That dreadful bore might become our son-in-law if Helena insists on marrying him,” her husband reminded her. “Perhaps we shouldn't have had the banners read so soon.”

  Luke had insisted they move things along. It was though the man was worried Helena might change her mind. Margaret had the feeling Luke was aware that Helena wasn't herself, and if he didn't put a ring on her finger at their earliest convenience, then Helena might call off the wedding. Luke was undoubtedly enamoured with their daughter and had been for some time.

  The poor man had tried his hardest for over a year when he still lived in the countryside but had to give up when he moved to London for business. Helena had been glad to be rid of him, and Margaret had scolded her for driving away such a kind young man. Now, Margaret wished she had kept her mouth shut. I know she is marrying Luke partly for our benefit, but something else is driving her decisions. Could it have anything to do with the violinist?

  "Dear, why don't we retire to the drawing-room?" her husband suggested.

  Margaret agreed. “That sounds better than sitting here, and staring at our dessert without the least inclination to eat it.”

  Henry stood up, holding his hand to her. She took it, closing her own hand over his larger, warmer one. They had not yet left the dining room when their butler came to speak to them.

  "My lord and lady, a Monsieur Baudelaire, has come to see you. Shall I send him in?"

  Margaret looked at her husband. “Monsieur Baudelaire? Helena's tutor?”

  "It appears so," her husband responded. "Show him
to the drawing-room, Amos."

  “Yes, my lord,” the man bowed, walking away.

  Margaret and her husband walked a little faster to the room, wanting to be settled before Nathaniel reached them. What could the violinist possibly have to say to them? It was strange, indeed. Margaret had the slightest of clues, but she didn't want to entertain it. The thought of her daughter being with a mere violinist was not something she or her husband would agree to.

  Nathaniel was brought into the room directly after them, catching them still getting comfortable in their seats. The man looked nervous, and perhaps paler than usual.

  “Lord, and Lady Pembroke,” he bowed. “Thank you for seeing me.”

  “Take a seat, Monsieur Baudelaire,” said Henry. “We are surprised to see you here. What brings you to our home?”

  The man sat down on the edge of his seat, his back so straight he looked uncomfortable.

  “I've come to speak to you about your daughter.”

  Margaret's eyebrows rose. “Helena? What on earth do you have to say about our daughter?”

  “Well, uh, as you know, I was her tutor for some time.”

  “Yes, yes,” Henry cut in. “Don't tell us things we already know, young man. What is your purpose here?”

  “I love your daughter, Lord Pembroke,” the man confessed. “And I believe she loves me as well. I've come to ask for her hand in marriage.”

  Margaret sucked in her breath, but her husband never gave anything away of what he was thinking.

  “What is this you are saying, eh?” Henry asked in a dangerous tone. “You? Love our daughter? Preposterous!”

  "It's true, my lord," the man insisted. "The months I spent tutoring her opened my eyes to a whole new world I never knew existed. She brought colour to my life and gave me hope for the future. I must confess I've always been a dreary fellow with a large chip on my shoulder, but Helena showed me that life wasn't worth dwelling on things of the past. She cleared out the cobwebs from my eyes and removed the steel from my heart. I could not help but fall in love with her. I believe she feels the same way."

  “Well...” was all Margaret could say.

  A blind man could see Nathaniel was sincere, but that didn't make his confession easier to accept. A violinist and an Earl's daughter? That could never be. Henry will have to see to this matter. Margaret glanced over at her husband. He appeared as though someone had poured icy water over him. If anyone knew her husband well, they would realise he hated cold water.

  “Out!” Henry bellowed.

  Both Margaret and Nathaniel jumped. Hand on her bosom, she stared at her husband. My goodness! I have never heard him use this tone before.

  “But, my lord,” Nathaniel protested.

  "No, no, no! I said out, you cretin!" Henry commanded. "How dare you come here with these ridiculous ideas of love and all that nonsense? A commoner can never love my daughter, and my daughter certainly does not love a commoner. How dare you even suggest such a thing!”

  “It's the truth, sir!” Nathaniel insisted.

  Margaret felt genuinely concerned for the young man when Henry reached for his walking stick and pointed it at him.

  "Out! Do you hear me? Out! I forbid you from repeating this nonsense to anyone, you hear? I never wish to see you again or hear of you, or so help me God. You will never be with my daughter! Never!"

  Henry's face turned a fantastic shade of red, then darkened to purple. He was nearly apoplectic!

  “Henry, my love, you must calm down,” Margaret cried worriedly. “Monsieur Baudelaire, you need to leave now,” she urged. “This is not good for my husband, you understand. Please, never come to see us or talk to us again about this matter. This love story you speak of can never be.”

  Defeat entered the man's eyes as he stood up. "I apologise for distressing you. It was never my intention. Good evening."

  The young man's head remained bowed as he walked out, and Margaret almost felt sorry for him. It was clear the man was in love with Helena, but he was a fool to believe anything could come of it.

  “Did you hear him?” Henry complained. “Imagine coming into my house and spewing such nonsense?!”

  "There, there, dear," she said soothingly. "He's gone now. What's the use of overreacting? Wait, I'll pour you a lovely glass of brandy."

  Margaret hurried to the drinks trolley, pouring the amber liquid into a glass. As she handed the drink to her husband, she considered whether the man's words were true. Did Helena love Nathaniel? The only way to know is to ask her. Perhaps I'll request to have tea with her tomorrow afternoon, and we can have a mother-daughter chat. What if everything was true? That might explain her sudden decline. It was soon after ending her lessons that she changed. Margaret had never looked at it that way before. If Helena did love the violinist, then they had some trouble ahead.

  They had hardly listened to him. Perhaps my expectations were too high. Whatever the case may be, what remained was Nathaniel's failure to make Lord and Lady Pembroke understand. They crushed my hopes with one blow. He understood that they differed in class, but didn't their daughter's happiness mean anything to them?

  "Sir," said the butler beside him. "If you don't mind me saying so, but that took a lot of courage. It was foolish but courageous. Not many men in your position would have dared approach people like my Lord and Lady Pembroke."

  "But it all came to nought. They refused to listen."

  "At least you stood your ground and stated your case. You must truly love Lady Barclay. She's a good girl."

  Nathaniel didn't know the butler at all, but he appreciated everything the man was saying.

  “She's a wonderful woman,” Nathaniel agreed. “It was a foolish thing to fall in love with her considering our difference in social class, but I believed that perhaps love could trump it all. I was wrong.”

  They got to the front door, but the butler hesitated to open it. “Do you truly believe Lady Barclay loves you?”

  “Yes, I believe so, or I would have never come here.”

  “Does she know you love her?” the man asked.

  Nathaniel sighed. “No. I'm afraid I've not been the worthiest of men. I hurt her without knowing, and now I'll never have the chance to ask for her forgiveness. Her parents have forbidden me from coming anywhere near them.”

  “That is unfortunate. Have you at least sent her a note? A letter to explain your feelings?”

  Nathaniel had never thought of that, but Helena's parents would undoubtedly be alert to such things now.

  "No. I only learnt of a misunderstanding this morning, and I came here hoping her parents would understand that I love their daughter and wish to make her happy. Instead, I think I almost killed Lord Pembroke.”

  The earl had turned a shade of purple Nathaniel had never seen before. The butler chuckled.

  “He'll be fine. There's nothing a good glass of brandy will not fix. Unfortunately, brandy cannot help a hurting heart.”

  What the butler said was true enough. Alcohol numbed things for that moment, but once it ceased to befuddle the senses, you were back to square one.

  “Thank you for the kind words, sir,” said Nathaniel. “I should be getting home before Lord Pembroke realises I'm still in his house.”

  “Right you are, sir,” the man agreed, opening the door. “I wish you all the best. I'm sorry you could not have your happy ending.”