The Matrimonial Advertisement

by Mimi Matthews

  “I know my mother had a sadness in her,” Helena said quietly. “But she didn’t deserve to be put away because of it.”

  “It was more than a sadness, madam. It was melancholia of the blackest kind. She wouldn’t rise from her bed. She refused to eat or to drink. Neglected to tend to her most basic needs. Your father consulted the best physicians. They advised a warmer climate, but when he took her to the continent, she worsened. The asylum was his last resort.”

  Helena sat back in her seat, stunned. She’d never heard any of this before. She had no recollection of how her mother had behaved when still living at home. She’d been far too young. Her only memories were of her mother in the asylum, listless and unresponsive, with lank hair and skin the color of parchment. “How do you know I don’t suffer the same symptoms?”

  “Your mother’s condition was evident in her eyes—in the pallor of her skin. Had you the same illness, you couldn’t disguise it. Not when you’re out every evening at the theatre or a ball. It would be plain for all to see.”

  “It wasn’t evident to Lord Flood or Sir Bernard or to any other of the gentleman I went to for help when my uncle first began to torment me. I told them he was trying to get me to sign over my inheritance—that he was making threats. Not a one of them wished to advocate on my behalf.”

  “Why would they? Your uncle is in debt to each of them—and God knows how many others. Their only hope of repayment is if he takes control of your fortune. They’d hardly have worked to prevent him doing so.”

  An embarrassed flush heated her cheeks. She’d approached those men so earnestly. So desperately. They must have thought her an absolute fool. “How was I to know to whom he’s in debt?”

  “Such information is common knowledge.”

  “Among gentlemen, perhaps.”

  “Which is why you should have consulted with me.” Lord Wolverton looked at Justin. “You’re her husband. Couldn’t you have advised her against this course?”

  “I encouraged her.”

  “Did you, by God!” Lord Wolverton’s expression turned thunderous. “To what end, sir? Do you seek to isolate her from her friends? To strengthen your hold on her fortune?”

  Justin’s jaw hardened. “What friends? When she came to me, she was alone and frightened. She had no one to protect her.”

  “Not from you, certainly. How long before you wed her? A month? A week?”

  “My husband didn’t know of my fortune when we married,” Helena objected.

  “He’s accounted for it now, I’ll wager. Down to the last penny. I’d expect nothing less from a man of his origins.” Lord Wolverton’s lip curled. “Oh yes, I’ve investigated that taradiddle about your having served with Lady Helena’s brother. A load of rubbish, all of it. I don’t know what you’re playing at, sir, but I warn you—”

  “You warn me?” Justin repeated. “You, a man who hasn’t lifted a finger on her behalf?”

  “Should I have followed your example and embroiled her in the scandal of the season? Of the decade?”

  “At least I’ve made an effort to free her from this tangle. What have you done, Wolverton? Besides coming here to lecture her after the fact.”

  “Had I known—”

  “You know now,” Justin said sharply. “What do you intend to do about it?”

  The atmosphere in the small parlor fairly crackled with tension as the two men glared at each other. Helena held her breath.

  “The only thing I can do at this juncture,” Lord Wolverton answered at last. “I’ll lend her my countenance.”

  “And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

  “To start, I’ll accompany her to call on Castleton this afternoon.”

  Helena’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “Now?”

  Lord Wolverton nodded. “The sooner he’s dealt with the better.”

  “I agree,” Justin said.

  A swell of panic clogged Helena’s throat. She couldn’t formulate the words to object to their scheme. She’d always known she must eventually confront Uncle Edward, but she’d never thought—never expected—it would be quite so soon.

  “My carriage is below,” Lord Wolverton said. “We can leave within the half hour.”

  Justin regarded her in silence for a moment.

  Helena met his eyes. She knew then that he was leaving the final decision up to her. He believed she was strong enough to deal with her uncle, but he’d never force her to do anything against her will. He’d stand by her and support her whatever she decided.

  It was that support—that unflinching loyalty—that finally loosened her tongue. “Very well, then,” she said. “Let’s pay a visit to Grosvenor Square.”

  * * *

  1 “The Position of a Lunatic.” The London Times (London, England), 19 August 1858. See Author Notes.

  “I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Justin said.

  Lord Wolverton’s black-lacquered carriage stopped in front of the Earl of Castleton’s residence in Grosvenor Square. All Helena need do was get out and climb the steps to the door.

  She sat beside Justin, temporarily immobilized. “Probably not,” she acknowledged. “But I feel I must do it.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No.” She took his gloved hand, pressing it for a moment in both of hers. “I must go in alone.”

  She’d made the decision immediately after departing Half Moon Street. She wouldn’t cower behind Justin or Lord Wolverton like some manner of frightened creature. She’d face her uncle once and for all. She’d show him that he hadn’t broken her.

  “Foolishness,” Lord Wolverton muttered from his seat across from them in the carriage. “You’ve no need to see him alone. He’s your husband’s problem now. And mine.”

  “I must,” she said again. “It’s a matter of dignity. Of self-respect.”

  Lord Wolverton harrumphed. He couldn’t comprehend why it was so important for her to confront her uncle by herself.

  But Justin could. He knew what it meant to face one’s fears.

  She held tight to his hand as one minute passed. And then another.

  “Have you changed your mind?” he asked.

  “No, no. I only need a moment to gather my courage.” She inhaled a steadying breath. “I’m ready now.”

  Justin climbed out of the carriage and assisted her down to the curb. “I’ll be here. If you’re not back within twenty minutes, I’m coming to the door.”

  She nodded and, at last, released his hand. Their arrival had been remarked. The door to the house was already being opened by the earl’s elderly butler, Netherby. At the sight of Helena, his usually bland expression brightened infinitesimally.

  “My lady,” he said, bowing.

  “Netherby.” She walked into the front hall, her gaze drifting over the familiar surroundings. “I trust you and the rest of the staff are well?”

  Netherby glanced at the carriage before shutting the door. The Earl of Wolverton’s crest was easily recognizable. “We have been making do in your absence, my lady. Might I inquire as to whether you will be returning to us?”

  A pang of sadness caught her unaware. “No, Netherby. I won’t be back. I’ve only come to see my uncle and then I’ll be on my way.” She permitted the butler to take her hat and gloves, but she didn’t remove her paletot. There was a distinct chill in the air. “Where is he?”

  “In his study, ma’am. Shall I announce you?”

  “No need.” She straightened her skirts and raised a hand to smooth her hair as she walked down the hall to the room that had, in years past, been her father’s study and then her brother’s. She didn’t bother knocking before opening the polished wood-paneled door.

  Uncle Edward was sitting behind his desk. He was a portly gentleman, gone fleshy from drink and indulgence. His graying hair was slicked w
ith fragrant pomade, his side-whiskers worn long almost to his chin. A ruby stick-pin glittered in the folds of his cravat, blinking as he turned his head this way and that, removing papers from drawers and shuffling things about atop the desk. As he did so, a sheaf of tradesman’s bills toppled over, fluttering to the floor.

  He looked up, then, and saw her. His face went hard.

  “Uncle,” she said.

  He stood. “Helena.”

  The familiar fear trickled through her veins. She reminded herself that Justin was right outside, prepared to come to her aid should it be necessary. The knowledge gave her an extra jolt of courage. Enough that she was able to remain outwardly calm as she walked slowly to the desk.

  Uncle Edward’s eyes darted to the door. “Where is this husband of yours I’ve been hearing so much about? Isn’t he with you?”

  “He’s waiting for me in the carriage.” she said. “Along with Lord Wolverton.”

  “Wolverton? The man’s an infernal busybody. If I discover he’s behind the tripe in this morning’s paper—”

  “You’ve read it? I did wonder.” A paper wafted down at Helena’s feet. She bent to retrieve it. “Your affairs appear to be somewhat in disarray.”

  He snatched the paper from her hand. “My affairs!” he sputtered. “You’ve announced to the world that I’m as good as bankrupt. You’ve libeled me. Slandered my good name. I’m ruined in London because of you. I’ve no choice now but to retire to the country.”

  “Permanently?”

  “Oh, you’ll not be rid of me that easily. I’ll be consulting my attorneys in Hampshire, you may depend upon it. They’ll bring suit. They’ll force a retraction. And they’ll shut down that damned fool newspaper. Mark my words.”

  She lifted her brows. “Will they really? My attorney has informed me that truth is an absolute defense to libel. And everything I told the newspaper was the truth. If you bring suit, you’ll only prolong the scandal—and add to your humiliation.”

  His eyes flared with anger. “You greedy little witch. What need have you of all that money? All you had to do was sign the blasted paper. I’d have taken care of you. You’d have wanted for nothing. But no. You must have it all to yourself. You would not be content until you’d ruined my good name, and yours along with it.”

  Helena placed her hands on the edge of his desk. “You know all about greed, Uncle. You would have seen me die in an asylum in order to take my brother’s fortune.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” he scoffed. “You know I’d never have gone through with it in the end. All I wanted was your signature. Had you given it, all that other nonsense would have stopped.”

  A rush of anger swept through her. “All that other nonsense left me black and blue all over. It left me chilled to the heart from ice baths and burned on my arms and legs from electrical shocks. It wasn’t nonsense. It was systematic torture.”

  “It was legitimate medicine.” His expression turned mulish. “But I would have put a stop to it if you’d done as I asked.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You should have believed me. You should have trusted me.”

  “You gave me no good cause.”

  “Poppycock! Haven’t I always been kind to you? Generous?”

  She didn’t dispute the fact. Indeed, the generous gifts he’d brought her as a child were the only fond memories she had of her uncle. “Papa never wanted you to bring me gifts. I always thought he was being stern. Unfair. But that wasn’t it at all, was it? He knew you had a problem with money. He knew you’d fritter your last penny away if left unchecked. Just as you would have done with Giles’ fortune.”

  Uncle Edward’s face reddened. “Giles is dead! He’s been dead this year and more. What proof do you need? His rotting bones delivered to you in a velvet-lined box?”

  His words flayed her like a whip. For an instant, she was tempted to turn and flee. Instead, she gripped the edge of his desk and leaned closer. “Giles may well be dead. But what right did that give you to do the things you did to me?”

  “Every right.” Uncle Edward drew himself up tall. “I am Castleton now. The family is in my charge. It was my duty to seek treatment for you. To see you made well again. And that is what I shall say to anyone who has the temerity to ask.”

  Her heart thumped wildly. “And I shall continue to tell them just what an unscrupulous blackguard you are. I shall keep telling them until you’re expelled from your clubs. Until no hostess will receive you anywhere.”

  “You’re a vindictive harpy,” he said. “But at what price? You’ve ruined yourself as well. Or are you too stupid to realize it yet? Marrying some bastard ex-soldier from the back of beyond. Spewing private family business to an infernal newspaperman. If I didn’t think you mad before, I know it now beyond all doubt.”

  Helena’s voice lowered with sudden fierceness. “That ex-soldier is the finest gentleman I have ever known. You’re not fit to polish his boots. As for myself—you may think of me what you will. You have no power over me any longer.”

  Uncle Edward eyed her warily as she removed her hands from his desk.

  “I shall be going to the bank next,” she informed him. “I will direct them to cut off your access to my accounts. Naturally, they may continue to apply to me for funds for the servants’ wages and pensions, but from this day forward, the bank shall pay them directly. I no longer trust you to behave as a man with honor and I’ll not have any of the Castleton servants suffer for your greed.”

  Her uncle began to sputter again, but she did not regard him.

  “Now,” she said briskly, “you may bring me my jewels. And see that you don’t dawdle. My husband is not a patient man. It wouldn’t take much provocation for him to serve you as he served Mr. Glyde.”

  Mere minutes later, Helena emerged from the house in Grosvenor Square, a footman at her heels carrying a large inlaid box. The day seemed brighter and the air fresher. The weight that had been on her shoulders these many months was lifted. Gone. When she saw Justin standing beside the carriage, her face lit with a smile broader than any she’d ever given him.

  “It’s over,” she said breathlessly. “I’m free.”

  Justin smiled back at her as he handed her up into the carriage. It was a strange, bittersweet smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you?”

  “Well, I shall be after we visit the bank. Unless… Do you suppose I should take Mr. Finchley along with me for that?”

  “You have his letter. I daresay all that legal jargon he uses in it will be enough to make the bankers do your bidding.”

  Lord Wolverton leaned forward in his seat. “You appear unscathed.”

  “I’m perfectly well,” she assured him.

  “And Castleton?”

  “He’s leaving London. He intends to retire to Hampshire for the foreseeable future.”

  Lord Wolverton moved to disembark from the carriage. “I’ll see that he does so.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he forestalled her with an upraised hand. “I’ll hear no objections. You’ve done what your conscience requires and so must I.”

  “Shall we wait for you?” Justin asked.

  “No need. John Coachman will return for me.”

  Helena watched as Lord Wolverton ascended the steps to the house. Netherby promptly opened the door for him. Try as she might, she could muster no pity for her uncle. He deserved society’s censure. And if that censure was to be administered in the form of a rebuke by Lord Wolverton, so much the better.

  Justin climbed into the carriage beside her.

  The footman followed him to the door, still holding the large box in his arms. “Where shall I put this, my lady?”

  “Give it to me,” Helena said. It was heavy. Almost too heavy for her to lift. “Thank you, James. Take care of yourself, won’t you?”

  He bowe
d, his cheeks reddening. “Yes, my lady.”

  “Another conquest?” Justin asked as the carriage started forward.

  “Hardly. His mother is housekeeper at our estate in Hampshire. I’ve known him since he was a boy.” She positioned the box more comfortably on her lap. “Look, Justin.” She opened the lid.

  Justin stared at the contents of the box. “Good God,” he said under his breath. “I thought you were only collecting your jewels, not the entire family collection.”

  “Don’t be silly. The entire collection belongs to the earldom. But these…these are mine.” She reached in, withdrawing a sparkling brooch. The diamond at its center was as large as a quail’s egg. “Some were presents from my father and brother, but most of them I inherited from my mother. She was an earl’s daughter herself, you know.”

  “Of course she was,” Justin said.

  Helena glanced up from perusing her jewelry. “Is everything all right?”

  “Fine. A slight headache, merely.”

  She closed the box. “My dear, you might have said something.”

  Justin turned his face away from her, his gaze fixing out the window. She had the impression she’d upset him, but she couldn’t imagine how.

  Perhaps he was suffering from more than a slight headache? He’d not been given much time to recover after his fight with Mr. Glyde. She would have to insist that he rest.

  “Shall we forget the bank and go straight back to Half Moon Street?” She touched his arm only to feel it tense beneath her fingers.

  “No,” he said. “Let’s finish this today. Let’s put an end to it.”

  The rest of the week was spent in very much the same manner as the previous weeks, except now, instead of being on Justin’s arm, she was on the arm of Mr. Finchley or Lord Wolverton. On Tuesday evening, Lord Wolverton escorted her to a performance of Shakespeare’s Othello and on Thursday evening to a supper party at the home of his eldest daughter. During the day, Mr. Finchley accompanied her and Jenny on trips to museums and shopping excursions in Bond Street.