An Innocent Debutante in Hanover Square
Autor:in
Anne Herries
Gelesen
18,8K
Kapitel
11
Chapter One
‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ Max Coleridge said as the urchin attempted to pluck a kerchief from the pocket of his companion. His hand shot out, grasping the dirty boy around his wrist with a grip of iron. ‘That is thieving, my lad, and it will land you in prison. You will end with your neck stretched at the nubbing cheat if you continue this way.’
‘Let me go, guv,’ the boy whined. ‘I ain’t done nuffin’ bad, honest I ain’t—but I ain’t had nuffin’ ter eat fer a week!’
‘Indeed?’ Max’s right eyebrow arched. ‘Should I believe you, I wonder? And what should I do with you supposing that I do?’
‘Let the ruffian go and be done with it,’ Sir Roger Cole advised. ‘I dare say he deserves to be handed over to the beadle, but it requires far too much effort.’
‘Your trouble, my friend, is that you are too lazy,’ Max replied with a smile that robbed his words of any offence. ‘No, I shall not let the boy go—he would simply rob someone else and eventually he will die in prison or at the rope’s end.’ His grasp tightened about the lad’s arm. ‘Tell me your name, lad. I shall take you home and tell your father to keep you off the streets.’
‘Me name’s Arthur,’ the boy muttered sullenly. ‘I ain’t got no home nor no farvver or muvver neivver. Ain’t got no one. Let me go like the gent said, sir. I won’t trouble you no more.’
‘No family at all?’ Arthur shook his head and Max sighed. ‘Unfortunately, if I let you go, you would trouble my conscience far more than you imagine. I shall take you with me. You are going to school, Arthur—whether you like it or not.’
‘School? Wot’s that?’ Arthur asked and wiped his running nose on his sleeve. He eyed the large man suspiciously. ‘You ain’t one o’ them queer nabs, are yer?’
‘I am certainly not,’ Max denied with a wry smile. ‘If you are hungry, you will like school—you will be fed three times a day, if you behave yourself.’
‘Food fer nuffin’?’ Arthur stared at him suspiciously. ‘Wot’s the catch, guv? ’As to be a catch. No one does nuffin’ fer nuffin’…’
‘No, I dare say they do not where you come from,’ Max said. ‘In return, you will have to give up a life of crime—and grime—and learn a trade…’
‘I ain’t goin’ up no chimneys!’
‘Good grief, I should hope not,’ Max said. ‘You might like to be a carpenter or a groom, perhaps—or even a politician?’
‘You shouldn’t put ideas into the boy’s head, Coleridge,’ Sir Roger said. ‘A politician, indeed!’
‘He could not do much worse than those we have in power at the moment,’ Max replied wryly. ‘But I would advise an honest trade—perhaps a baker?’
‘I like cake,’ Arthur said, his eyes suddenly bright. ‘I pinched some orf a baker’s stall once on the market.’
‘There you are, then,’ Max said, hiding his smile. ‘The future looms brighter already, Arthur—a baker you shall be.’
‘You are mad, quite mad,’ Sir Roger said and grinned. ‘It is hardly surprising that you are not married, my dear fellow. I do not know whether any sensible woman would have you.’
‘I dare say she wouldn’t if she knew my habit of picking up boys from the streets,’ Max replied and smiled at his friend. ‘Excuse me, I have a rather dirty ruffian to scrub before I present him to someone who will teach him a few manners…’ He neatly avoided a kick from the struggling urchin. ‘I should give up if I were you, Arthur. I could always change my mind and hand you over to the constable, and then you might never eat cake again.’
Helene eyed the chimney-sweep wrathfully, one hand on the shoulder of the small boy at her side. Her eyes just now were the colour of wet slate, her normally generous mouth pulled tight in an expression of disgust.
‘You will go and you will leave Ned with me,’ she said, her voice strong and fearless despite the knots tying themselves in her stomach as she faced the great brute of a man she had caught beating his climbing boy. ‘You are lucky that I do not call the magistrate and have you arrested for cruelty. This child is too ill to do his work.’
‘Lazy ingrate that’s what he be,’ the sweep muttered. His hands were ingrained with soot, his face streaked with it. He had a fearful scar on one cheek and he squinted with his left eye. He was scowling so fiercely that Helene’s courage might have deserted her had she not seen the scars on a previous climbing-boy’s back. Jeb had died of his injuries. She was determined that it would not happen to Ned. ‘I bought the brat from the workhouse. He belongs to me—and that’s the law. You can’t take him from me, miss.’
‘What did you pay for him?’ Helene was haughty as she faced her much larger opponent across the kitchen of her uncle’s home. She knew that the sweep could fell her with a blow of his huge fist, but she refused to feel afraid. ‘Tell me and you shall be paid.’
‘I paid ten gold guineas for him,’ the sweep growled.
Helene knew that he was lying. No one paid so much for a boy from the workhouse. However, she understood that she must pay the price if she wished to take the child from him.
‘Very well, you shall be paid,’ she promised. ‘You may go. I will send the money to your wife tomorrow.’
The sweep scowled at her, anger flashing in his eyes. ‘If you don’t send the money—all of it!—I shall come and take him back,’ he muttered and went off, stomping out of the kitchen in a temper.
‘You’ve landed yourself in a pickle again, miss.’ Bessie stared at her. ‘Where will you find ten guineas to pay him? And what are we to do with the lad now we have him?’
Helene felt the lad tremble beneath her hand. ‘Don’t send me back to Mr Beazor, miss,’ he said, sniffed and wiped the back of his hand across his nose and then on his disreputable breeches, smearing more soot on his face in the process. ‘He’ll kill me sure as hell is full of the devil.’
‘You watch your language,’ Bessie warned him sharply. ‘Speak respectful to Miss Henderson. She just saved you from a terrible beating.’
‘Please do not scold him, Bessie,’ Helene said and smiled at the maid she thought of as her best friend. Bessie was her mama’s only servant and had helped Helene out of scrapes many times when she was a girl. ‘I think he needs a bath and something to eat.’
‘He could certainly do with a bath,’ Bessie agreed. ‘He doesn’t smell too sweet.’
‘What’s a bath?’ Ned eyed them suspiciously. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘Lord bless him!’ Bessie laughed. ‘We’re going to put you in a tub of hot water and wash all the soot and grime off you, lad.’
‘Nah…don’t fancy that…’ Ned backed away from them nervously.
‘I promise you it won’t hurt,’ Helene told him. ‘Afterwards, I shall put some ointment on your back and then you can eat your meal.’
‘What’s to eat?’ Ned looked round hopefully, a sign of interest in his eyes now.
‘You shall have a hot meat pie and some cake,’ Bessie said, seeing the gleam and smiling inwardly. ‘But you’ve got to be clean. I can’t have dirty boys in my kitchen.’
‘Are you certain it don’t hurt?’ Ned’s nose twitched as the smell of pies baking reached his nostrils.
‘I promise,’ Helene said and turned as one of the other servants entered the kitchen. ‘Jethro, will you fetch the tub from the scullery, please? We are going to give this lad a bath.’
Jethro nodded. ‘I saw Beazor looking like thunder. He’s a bad man, miss. He’s already done for two workhouse lads. He’s been warned that if it happens again he won’t get another.’
‘Is that all they can think of to threaten him with?’ Helene’s eyes flashed. ‘In my opinion, a beating is the least he deserves. He has killed boys and no one does anything to stop him.’
‘Yes, miss, a few of us were thinking the same,’ Jethro said, his expression grim. ‘I’ll fetch the tub and give you a hand with him, Bessie. Your uncle was looking for you, Miss Henderson.’
‘Yes, I know he wished to speak with me,’ Helene said. ‘I shall have to ask him what we should do with Ned.’
‘You can leave him to me, miss,’ Jethro said. ‘I need a lad to help out in the yard. He’ll do with me. No need to bother Mr Barnes.’
‘No, I would rather not…’ Helene thanked him, told Ned to be good and hurried away to keep her appointment with her uncle. Edgar Barnes was a fair-minded man. He had taken his sister and her child in when Helene’s father died from a fever after a fall from his horse. However, he was not a wealthy man. He had promised to do something for her, and she knew that he had summoned her to his library to talk about her dowry that morning. She had been offered a Season in town by a good friend of her mother’s. Her uncle had already given her fifty pounds towards her spending money in town, but the dowry would need to be a more substantial sum if she were to stand a chance of making a good match. Especially in view of what some might see as her unfortunate background.
Helene could ill afford to give Beazor the ten guineas she had promised him, but she must do it. Her mother had spoken of Miss Royston being very generous, but Helene was not perfectly sure what that meant, though she knew they were to be guests at Miss Amelia Royston’s town house. Neither her uncle nor her mother could have afforded to give her a London Season and she felt very grateful to the lady she remembered only vaguely. It was very kind of Miss Royston to send such an invitation.
Helene hesitated outside her uncle’s door, then took a deep breath, knocked and opened the door. He was writing at his desk, but looked up as she entered and smiled.
‘Ah, Helene, my dear. I am pleased to see you. Come in, niece, and sit down. I want to talk to you about your visit to town.’
‘Yes, Uncle. I am sorry I am a little late, sir.’
‘No matter…’ He waved his hand in a dismissive manner. ‘I am sure you understand your great good fortune and the opportunity this visit affords you?’
‘Yes, Uncle. I am very grateful to Miss Royston for inviting us.’
‘You must make the most of it,’ Uncle Edgar told her, his fingers touching as he placed his hands in the steeple position and looked serious. ‘I have two sons to see through college and I must do something to secure the future of my younger boy. Matthew wants a set of colours and that is an expense I can scarcely bear. I had thought I might give you fifty pounds a year, but some of my investments have failed miserably and I am no longer able to make the commitment.’
‘I am sorry for your loss, sir,’ Helene told him, her heart sinking. Without a dowry she would stand little chance of making an advantageous match. The fact of her maternal grandfather having been in trade was a disadvantage in itself, though Helene herself was proud of being Matthew Barnes’s granddaughter. He had fought his way up from lowly beginnings to become a man of some fortune, which accorded well with her notions of equality. Unfortunately, a quarrel between Helene’s mama and her father had meant that Mrs Henderson had been left a mere competence. Helene had nothing at all, for she had not been born when Matthew Barnes died. ‘Then I have no dowry at all?’
‘I can give you a hundred pounds extra now and that is all,’ Uncle Edgar said with a sigh of regret. ‘I am sorry, Helene. It is fortunate that your mother has a good friend in Miss Royston.’
‘Yes, the visit will be pleasant, though I think I may not be able to oblige Mama by making a good marriage…’
‘Miss Royston understands the situation and she is giving you five thousand pounds as a dowry.’ Helene gasped at the news and her uncle smiled. ‘Yes, it is a very large sum, Helene. It should help you to make a good match. All the more reason why you should make sure you please your benefactress. You must strive to be on your best behaviour and to make the most of your chances. You must not be too particular, Helene. Do not expect a great match, my dear. He should be a decent man, of course—and you must not go against the wishes of Miss Royston. However, I know you to be a sensible girl…most of the time. But I shall say nothing of your little lapses, which I know come from your heart. You care about others and that is not a bad thing, but sometimes you are led into the wrong paths by impulse.’
Helene wondered if he had heard anything of the scene in his kitchen earlier, but she did not ask. Her uncle would not want to be involved in the quarrel, for he always took the line of least resistance if he could, and he would probably say that Ned should be returned to his master. He certainly would not approve of paying ten guineas to the sweep!
‘I do try to be sensible, Uncle,’ Helene told him. ‘It is just that I cannot stand cruelty in any form.’
‘I do not like it myself, but sometimes one has to look the other way, Helene.’
‘Yes, Uncle. I shall try to remember.’
Helene’s thoughts were very different to her words. She and Bessie had done what they could to save the climbing boy who had been beaten so badly that he died. The sight of his emaciated body, the bruises and the way he had just turned his face to the wall and died had lived in her mind, because she had known that his spirit was broken, too. If she’d had a little money of her own, she would have set up a school for poor boys and alleviated the worst of their suffering. However, even then she could help only a few, and she had often thought the answer lay with men like her uncle. Edgar Barnes was not wealthy, but he had standing in the community. He and others far more powerful should put a stop to the barbaric laws that allowed children to be bought for a few shillings, half-starved and forced to work for their bread.
However, she knew better than to voice her opinion on the matter. Most gentlemen believed ladies should be seen and admired, treated with utmost gentleness, but their opinions seldom counted for anything other than in the matter of the household they ran. Such attitudes might have made Helene angry had she not understood it was simply the way of things. Because she might otherwise have said too much, Helene had fallen into the habit of saying little in the company of her uncle’s friends. They were all older men, gallant, charming and entrenched in their traditions. To challenge their long-held beliefs would have been rude. As a result she was deemed to be a quiet girl, pretty enough but perhaps a little shy?
As Helene left her uncle’s study, her thoughts returned to the problem of the sweep. She decided that she would consult Jethro in the matter of payment. She would give him the money and trust him to pay what was necessary. Anything he saved could be spent on some decent clothes for Ned. She could hardly expect him to support the boy entirely from his own pocket.
As she went upstairs to her bedchamber, Helene mentally reviewed the gowns she was taking with her to London. She had four new evening dresses, one morning gown and one for the afternoon; all the others had been worn several times before she went into mourning for her father. Would they be enough to see her through the Season? If her uncle gave her the hundred pounds he had promised, perhaps she might purchase a few extra gowns, for she was certain they would be needed if they were invited to some modest affairs. It was hardly likely that she would attend the most prestigious balls taking place in the houses of the aristocracy—although her father had been a gentleman, he had never possessed a vast fortune or a title.
Helene decided that she would wait until she got to London before purchasing more gowns. It would not be long now and she might not actually need them. The money would be better saved for more important things…
Helene stood just behind her mother as their hostess received them. The house was a three-storey building in an elegant square in the heart of London, beautifully furnished and quite large.
‘Marie—how lovely to see you. You are looking very well,’ Miss Royston greeted them as they were shown into the comfortable parlour, which they had been told was used for private afternoons. ‘And this is Helene, I believe? You have grown, my love. I knew that you would be a young lady by now, but I did not think you would be so very pretty!’
Helene’s cheeks turned to a delicate rose. She felt a little uncomfortable as she bobbed a respectful curtsy. ‘You are so very kind, Miss Royston,’ she said. ‘Indeed, Mama tells me you have been extraordinarily generous. I do not know how to thank you, ma’am.’
‘Please call me Amelia when we are private together,’ Amelia said. ‘I need no thanks, Helene. I shall enjoy having friends to stay—and as for the other—’ Helene lowered her gaze, feeling slightly embarrassed ‘—please do not feel under any obligation, my dear. I was very fortunate in being left a great deal of money by my aunt, far more than I could ever need, in fact. Helping my friends is a great pleasure to me. I do not wish you to feel you owe me something, for I have known what it is like to be beholden to others.’
‘Mama told me that you were not happy in your brother’s house,’ Helene said and raised her eyes to meet Amelia’s. ‘Uncle Edgar has been kind to us, but I must admit it is not like living in your own home.’
‘No, it cannot be,’ Amelia replied. ‘I have asked my dressmaker to call in the morning, Helene. We all need new gowns and it will be amusing to choose them here. We can look at patterns and materials together…but I am forgetting my manners. This lady is Emily Barton. She is my friend and my companion. I am not sure what I should do without her—she completely spoils me!’
Helene turned her gaze on the lady standing silently by the fireplace. She had dark blonde hair and the saddest eyes that Helene ever remembered seeing.
‘Miss Barton,’ Helene said and dipped a curtsy, ‘I am pleased to meet you.’
‘I am pleased to meet you,’ Emily replied. ‘Shall we sit together on the sofa?’
Helene went to sit by Emily. Amelia Royston turned her attention to Mrs Henderson, drawing her to a comfortable chair near the fire and offering refreshment.
‘Would you care for tea—or something a little stronger? A glass of wine, perhaps, to keep out the chill of the day. It has turned a little cold for the time of year, do you not think so?’
‘How kind,’ Mrs Henderson said and sat down near the fire. ‘I should not mind a glass of wine, Amelia. The roads were terribly rutted in places and we were rattled so in my brother’s carriage. I thought we should break a pole or lose a wheel, but we arrived safely. Edgar talks of buying a new carriage but his sons are at college and he cannot afford such luxuries for the moment.’
‘When you go home, you shall be taken in my carriage,’ Amelia told her. ‘Had I known, I would have sent it to collect you, Marie. Forgive me for not thinking of it.’
‘Oh, no—you have already done so much.’
‘Really, it is very little to me,’ Amelia assured her with a gentle smile. ‘I am glad to entertain my friends, you know. I am not lonely now that I have Emily, but we both like to have friends to stay.’
‘In the matter of Helene’s clothes…I have some money,’ Mrs Henderson began, a slight flush in her cheeks, but Amelia shook her head.
‘We do not need to speak of it. My seamstress will send her bills to me and we shall talk about this at the end of the Season. If we are fortunate and Helene secures a good husband, neither of you will have to worry about money again.’
‘Yes…’ Mrs Henderson looked doubtful. ‘You look…beautiful, Amelia. Scarcely older than when I last saw you.’
‘Oh, I hardly think that,’ Amelia said on a laugh. ‘I am approaching my twenty-seventh birthday, Marie.’
‘No one would know if you did not tell them.’ Mrs Henderson arched her brows. ‘Have you never thought of marriage yourself?’
‘I thought of it some years ago, but my brother did not approve…’ Amelia frowned. For a moment her expression was sad, pained, but then she raised her head in a determined fashion. ‘I fear I am past the age for marrying now, Marie. You were no more than nineteen when you married, I believe?’
‘Hardly that,’ Mrs Henderson said and sighed. ‘It was an imprudent match, for my William did not have sufficient fortune and it caused a breach with my father. In his anger he struck my name from his will. Papa did not hold with the aristocracy—he thought them proud and arrogant. I believe he would have reinstated me later, but he died suddenly, just before Helene was born, and I was left with a fraction of what might have been mine. I do not regret my marriage, for my husband was a good man and I loved him, but I have regretted the lack of fortune for my daughter’s sake. I had hoped her uncle might do something for her, but he finds himself in some financial difficulty, I believe.’
‘It is the way of things—and sons can be expensive,’ Amelia said. ‘My brother has two sons and he often complains to me of their extravagance. John has taken a pair of colours, but the younger son prefers to live in London. Your brother was widowed just before you lost your husband. Is it your intention to return and keep house for him—even if Helene should marry well?’
‘Oh…I am not certain,’ Mrs Henderson replied. ‘Edgar has a very good housekeeper and I am not necessary to him, though he would not turn me away.’ She could not prevent a sigh escaping. ‘He was very good to take us in but…you understand, of course.’
‘Ah, yes, I do. I was forced to reside with my brother and his wife until I went to live with my aunt,’ Amelia said and gave her a look of sympathy. ‘You are not alone in your predicament, Marie, for many women find themselves reduced to living on a competence when their husbands die. It cannot have been comfortable for you, my dear. Well, we must wait and see what kind of an impression Helene makes—if she is to be accepted, she needs to be well dressed.’
Helene blushed as the two ladies looked at her. It was obvious that she was expected to make a good match. She was determined to do her best, for her uncle’s warning had played on her mind. She did not think he would be too pleased if she returned at the end of the Season with no prospect of a good marriage before her. However, she knew that her mama had not been well treated by her father’s family, who had frowned on the marriage and cut her most cruelly because of her background. Knowing her mama’s story had helped Helene to become quite radical in her thinking. She was not sure that she approved of the aristocracy and their privileged way of living. In that she probably took after her maternal grandfather. Mrs Henderson said that she had his temperament and was equally as stubborn.
It would not do for Helene to be married to one of the idle rich! She must hope that she could find a sensible man who had compassion for those less fortunate than himself. Helene knew that her mama had great hopes for her and she was afraid that she might be disappointed if her daughter’s choice turned out to be less important and wealthy than she hoped.
Helene found Emily Barton easy to talk to, because she seemed genuinely interested in hearing about Helene’s life. She was attractive and Helene thought she could have been lovely had she dressed her hair less severely. Her voice was soft, musical and her laugh was infectious. However, she revealed almost nothing of herself, allowing Helene to talk without interruption.
Helene did not know how it was, but she found herself confiding in her new friend about the climbing boy she had rescued from his cruel master.
‘He was beating poor Ned,’ she said. ‘I made him stop and sent him away. He said I must pay ten guineas, but in the end Jethro made him take two. I think he would not have been pleased, but he made his mark to show that the boy was no longer his property. I think Jethro may have threatened him, though of course he said nothing of it to me.’
‘How brave you were to stand up to him,’ Emily said, her blue-green eyes seemingly intent on Helene’s face. ‘It must have been frightening, for he might have attacked you.’
‘He might,’ Helene admitted with a little shudder. ‘To be honest, I did not consider the possibility. I just ordered him to desist and—fortunately, he did.’
‘Yes, I see…’ Emily smiled. ‘It is a sad thing when a child can be bought and sold for a few guineas is it not?’
‘Yes, it is,’ Helene said and her eyes caught with an inner fire that was not often present when in polite company. ‘If I were wealthy, I should open a school for orphan boys and feed them on good wholesome food so that they grow strong and healthy. It breaks my heart to see children with rickets or sores on their faces, because they do not get the proper diet. So many of them die before they reach maturity.’
Emily nodded. ‘I can see that you have put a deal of thought into the matter. The situation is even worse in town than in the country, you know. There are areas where the filth runs in the gutters and the inhabitants are for ever ill with some dread fever. Some of them spend their lives drinking gin to deaden the pain of hunger and hopelessness.’
Helene’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I have heard of these places and wish with all my heart that I could do something for them…’
‘Amelia does,’ Emily told her and smiled. ‘This winter she set up a school and a home for orphans—not just boys, girls as well. I have not been to visit yet, though I intend to quite soon.’ She arched her brows at Helene. ‘Perhaps you would care to accompany me? Amelia visited yesterday. She said it was heartbreaking to see the new cases, but that the ones who had been with the school for some months were a joy to behold, for they had grown strong and were gaining an education for themselves.’
‘Oh, yes, I should like it above all things—may we go tomorrow?’ Helene’s face lit with eagerness. ‘It is just the sort of thing I should do if I were rich!’
Emily smiled and shook her head. ‘Amelia has many things planned for you, Miss Henderson. You must be properly dressed, you know. In a week or so, when things have quietened a little, we may choose our opportunity to slip away one morning.’
Helene wanted to protest—of what importance were fancy clothes when there was so much poverty in the world? However, she held back the words. There would be chances enough for her to discover more of what interested her. She must not forget her duty to Mama or her sense of obligation to Miss Royston. It was obvious from what Emily had told her that her hostess was a generous woman, not only to herself but to deserving cases, and therefore deserved the utmost respect and consideration.
‘How long have you lived with Miss Royston?’ she inquired.
‘Oh, a little over nine months,’ Emily replied. ‘She is the kindest employer I could wish for and the best of friends.’
‘I see…’ Helene frowned. ‘Is she the first lady you have worked for—or is it impolite of me to ask?’
‘Not at all,’ Emily said and her eyes clouded with sadness. ‘I looked after my mother for some years after my father’s death. Papa was…an intolerant man and he made Mama’s life uneasy. She became an invalid some years earlier. When she died, I found myself with little money, for my father’s estate went to his nephew. I…was forced to find work, but I was very fortunate—I have little to do but enjoy myself here. Amelia makes few requests of me. All she really needs is someone to keep her company.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Helene nodded. Emily’s warm affection for her employer was further evidence of Miss Royston’s goodness. Helene’s sense of obligation deepened. She must take care to please Amelia in any little way she could, because it would be rude to do anything else, and she had been properly brought up. ‘You must tell me if there is anything I can do to make myself useful to you or Miss Royston.’
‘I am sure Amelia only wishes to see you happy. She has the kindest heart, though she can be stubborn when she chooses,’ Emily said and shook her head as Helene raised her brows in enquiry. ‘Now, if you are ready, perhaps I may show you to your room?’
‘Thank you so much,’ Helene said and stood up. She nodded to her mother and Amelia as they went out into the hall. She was a little in awe of Miss Royston, because of her goodness and generosity, and she was glad of Emily’s presence. ‘I should very much like it if we could be friends?’ she said with a shy glance at the older woman. ‘If you would like it, too?’
‘Certainly I should,’ Emily assured her with a smile. ‘I can see that you are a lady who thinks of others and that is something I admire…’ For a moment that flash of sadness was in Emily’s eyes again and Helene wondered what secret sorrow she held inside. However, she would not presume to ask, for she believed that people told you things when they had learned to trust you, and Emily did not yet know her. ‘Now, we must talk of other things.’
‘What kind of things?’ Helene asked.
‘Amelia has asked me to show you the house, and to tell you how we go on here. You are to have your own maid while you stay here, Helene. I know your mama has brought her own maid, but you will have one all to yourself. Tilly is a skilled needlewoman and she can dress your hair as well as look after your clothes. She has already unpacked your trunks and will have pressed a gown for you for this evening. Amelia has no guests for this evening. She thought we should all get to know each other, and we shall do that better by ourselves.’
‘Yes, that is a good idea,’ Helene agreed. ‘I think we shall be friends, Emily—but I must admit I feel a little in awe of Miss Royston.’
‘You must not,’ Emily told her. ‘She would not wish it. You are not the first young lady she has helped. Last season she brought Miss Susannah Hampton to town. Susannah is now Lady Pendleton. We visited Pendleton at Christmas and she seemed very happy. I do not think you will meet her in town, for she is in a delicate situation—she is to have her husband’s child this summer, I understand.’
‘Oh…she must be pleased,’ Helene said, her cheeks warm. ‘How fortunate for her.’
‘Susannah is very happy,’ Emily told her. ‘She fell in love with Lord Pendleton and he with her. It was a love match—and they might never have met had it not been for Amelia.’
‘That is indeed fortunate. I am not sure that I shall ever truly fall in love, but I must marry if a respectable gentleman should offer for me. It is my duty to Mama.’
‘Well, perhaps,’ Emily said and something odd flickered in her eyes. ‘I think you are very pretty, Helene. I am sure you will have a great many offers. You will not be forced to take the first man who asks for you.’
Helene looked at her curiously. She would have liked to ask Emily what she thought of marriage, but she did not yet know her well enough. Besides, she suspected that Emily had no money of her own. Helene knew that without the dowry Miss Royston had given her, she would have been unlikely to find a husband. Perhaps that was why Emily looked so sad. Helene hoped that one day Emily might like her enough to confide in her, but for the moment she would not ask.
The next morning was entirely taken up with the visit from the seamstress and her young assistant. At first Helene felt a little nervous about giving her opinions, for she was very conscious of the fact that this must be costing a great deal. However, when she discovered that Emily was also being fitted for a new wardrobe, she lost most of her inhibitions. She found it easy to confer with Emily, to discuss styles, colours and quality, and also quantity—though she found it a little shocking when she discovered just how many new gowns were considered necessary.
‘Shall I really need so many?’ she asked, for she could not help thinking that some of the money could be put to better use. ‘I already have four evening dresses I brought with me.’
‘They are very pretty and quite suitable for when we dine at home,’ Emily told her and smiled as she saw Helene’s doubtful look. ‘I felt as you do when I first came to live with Amelia—but she has so many friends. We are invited everywhere, you know. You cannot be for ever wearing the same gown, Helene. You would not wish to appear dowdy? No, of course not. Now do look at this green silk. It would be perfect for your colouring—do you not think so, Madame Dubois?’
‘Oui, of a certainty,’ the Frenchwoman exclaimed. ‘It will look well for an afternoon gown, but the young lady should wear white for evenings. White and simple will be perfect for one so young and beautiful.’
Helene held the shimmering white material to herself, glancing in the mirror. She felt that white was a little in sipid for her, but hardly liked to protest. However, Emily shook her head.
‘I cannot agree, madame,’ she said. ‘I believe Helene would look better in colours—that pale blue and the yellow…and perhaps that very pale pink with a deeper cerise trim.’
The seamstress pulled a face. ‘Very pretty, but the petite is so young…’
‘I think I agree with Emily,’ Amelia said as Emily draped the yellow and blue materials against Helene. ‘White is necessary if you are presented, Helene, my dear, but I am not sure that your mama wishes for a court presentation.’
‘I think that might be better left for the future,’ Mrs Henderson said and looked thoughtful. ‘I was never presented at court even after my marriage. I doubt that Helene will be, either.’
‘Oh, no, Mama, I am sure it is not necessary,’ Helene assured her. Since she had no intention of marrying into the aristocracy, it would be a waste of money to invest in such elaborate gowns.
‘Well, we shall see what happens,’ Amelia said. ‘We can always order a court gown if it seems likely that someone will offer to present you, Helene.’
‘I am sure they will not,’ Helene said. ‘I am quite content with the gowns I already have, thank you.’
‘How many have you ordered?’ Amelia inquired of the seamstress and shook her head as she was told. ‘That is not enough. I think you should have an evening gown made of this straw satin as well—and I think a ballgown in this beautiful peach silk, Helene. Hold it against you and look in the mirror. It is perfect for you, my dear.’
Not content with that, Amelia ordered two further morning gowns, two afternoon gowns and a riding habit in dark blue velvet. Helene felt overwhelmed—she had never owned so many gowns. She was relieved to see that Emily was also pressed to order more gowns.
‘Well, I think that will do for now,’ Amelia said. ‘When can you deliver the first gowns, Madame Dubois? The very first should be the peach gown for Miss Henderson, please. Emily and I may wait a few days.’
The seamstress promised to have several gowns delivered by the end of the week, and the peach gown in two days.
‘That is perfect,’ Amelia said after she had gone. ‘We have been invited to a prestigious dance that evening. Helene will need her new gown. We shall have to shop for some spangles tomorrow. A pretty stole and some dancing shoes to complement your gown, my dear. You might like to take Helene shopping, Emily? You know all the best shops and can show her what is usually worn at these affairs.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Emily said. ‘Would you care to accompany us, Mrs Henderson?’
‘As it happens, I have agreed to accompany Amelia somewhere,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘You two go and enjoy yourselves.’
‘I had planned to visit the lending library this afternoon,’ Emily said and looked at Helene. ‘Would you like to come?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Helene agreed. ‘Unless Amelia needs me for anything?’
‘No, I do not think so,’ Amelia said. ‘I am at home this afternoon. You must not stay out too long, for I am sure we shall have several callers and they will want to meet Helene.’
‘It will take no more than an hour,’ Emily assured her. ‘A walk to the library and back will be quite uneventful. We shall be back in plenty of time for tea.’
‘Then do go, my love,’ Amelia said. ‘It will be pleasant for Helene to see something of the town, and you may meet with some friends.’
‘You may bring a book for me, Helene,’ her mama told her. ‘It is so nice to have the opportunity of borrowing new books. Edgar had very little of interest in his library at home.’
‘Emily—look!’ Helene grabbed hold of her arm as they were returning from the library. ‘Do you see that man over there? He is beating that poor donkey with a stick. Oh, how wicked! It is obvious the creature is exhausted and can go no further…’
Helene had been holding Emily’s arm, but she broke away from her and ran across the road to where a man dressed in filthy rags was trying to force a donkey to continue pulling the heavy wagon. The wagon was piled high with all kinds of rags, discarded furniture and metal pots. The donkey was scarcely more than skin and bone and exhausted. Its owner had lifted his arm to beat the unfortunate beast once more when a whirling fury grabbed hold of him, holding on to his arm and preventing him from carrying out his intention.
‘You wicked, wicked man!’ Helene cried. ‘Can’t you see the poor creature is exhausted? If you force it to go on, you will kill it…’
The man tried to throw her off, but Helene held on, struggling to catch hold of the stick and wrench it from his grasp. She was determined not to let go even though he was much stronger than she and obviously possessed of a nasty temper.
‘Damn you, wench,’ the man snarled. ‘Leave me be or it will be the worse for you!’ He managed to pull his arm free of her grasp and raised it again, intending, it seemed, to beat her instead of the donkey.
‘No, you don’t, sirrah!’ a man’s deep voice cried and the bully’s arm was caught, this time in a grip of steel. The vagabond growled and tried to free himself, but ended with his arm up against his back, his chest pressed against the side of the wagon. ‘If you do not want your arm broken, stop struggling.’
‘Let me be,’ the vagabond whined. ‘She attacked me, sir. I were only defending meself.’
‘Be quiet, rogue, or I’ll break your neck,’ the man commanded. His eyes moved to Helene. ‘Would you like to tell me what happened here, miss?’
‘He was beating that poor creature,’ Helene said. ‘You can see for yourself that it is half-starved—and that load is far too heavy. The poor beast is too exhausted to pull the cart another inch.’
‘Did you attack him?’ The man arched his brows.
‘I tried to stop him beating the donkey.’ Helene lifted her head proudly, refusing to be ashamed of her action.
‘I see…’ Max released the vagabond, turned him round and glared down at him. The vagabond opened his mouth, then shut it again. The newcomer was a gentleman and a rather large one, his expression threatening. ‘What have you to say for yourself, rogue?’
‘The stupid beast is useless. It is lazy and a worthless bag of bones. I have to beat it or it will not move.’
‘It might work better if you fed it occasionally,’ Lord Maximus Coleridge said wryly. ‘Here, take this in exchange for the animal and be off with you before I call the watch!’ He thrust a handful of gold coins at his victim. The vagabond stared at the money in astonishment, bit one of the coins to make sure it really was gold and then took off as fast as he could before the mad gentleman could change his mind.
‘That was too much. One of those coins must have been sufficient,’ Helene protested as the large gentleman began to undo the donkey’s harness, freeing it from its burden. She patted the donkey’s nose. ‘The poor thing. It must have had a terrible life.’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Max said and frowned. He arched his eyebrows in enquiry. ‘What do you propose we should do with it now?’
‘Oh…’ Helene stared at him. ‘I am not sure, sir. The poor creature needs a good home and something to eat. It looks quite starved.’
‘I wonder if it would not be kinder to put a ball through its head and end its misery.’
‘No! You must not,’ Helene cried and then blushed as his dark grey eyes centred on her face. She thought him an extremely attractive man, large and powerful, and, it seemed, exactly the kind of man one could rely on in an emergency. ‘I mean…could you not have it taken to a stable? At least give this unfortunate beast a chance to recover…please?’
‘Helene…’ Emily had waited for her chance to cross the road. ‘Are you all right, my dear? I would have come sooner, but there was a press of carriages.’
‘Because we are blocking the road,’ Max said wryly. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Barton. I did not know that you were in town. I trust you are well—and Miss Royston?’
‘Lord Coleridge,’ Emily said and dipped in a slight curtsy. ‘We are both well. May I introduce Miss Henderson? Helene—Lord Coleridge. Helene and her mama are staying with us this Season, sir.’
‘My compliments to Miss Royston. I shall call,’ Max Coleridge said and turned his gaze back to Helene. ‘So, Miss Henderson—what do you suggest?’ He saw the pleading in her eyes. ‘I hope you are not suggesting that this flea-ridden beast should rub shoulders with my cattle…’
‘Could you not find a small corner for him in your stables, sir?’
‘Oh, no.’ Max shook his head. He turned his head and signalled to someone. A youth of perhaps fourteen years came running. ‘Jemmy, this lady wants us to take care of this donkey—what do you suggest we do with him?’
‘Sell ’im to the knacker’s yard, sir?’ the youth said and grinned.
‘Much as I think you may be right, I find myself unable to agree,’ Max replied, a twinkle in his eye. ‘I think you should take charge of him, Jemmy. I dare say we could find a corner for him somewhere.’
‘That bag of bones? You’re bamming me, milord,’ Jemmy said, staring at him in horror. ‘We’ll be the laughing stock of the ton, sir.’
‘I dare say,’ Max replied. ‘However, I do not intend to drive the wretched beast. Once it has recovered—if it recovers—we may find a better home. I shall make inquiries.’
‘You want me to get that thing ’ome?’ Jemmy was clearly horrified. ‘I dunno as it will move, sir.’
‘Do your best, Jemmy. I fear we are holding up the traffic.’ Max gave Helene a direct look. ‘I believe we should move out of the road—do you not think so?’
‘But the donkey…’ Helene moved on to the path, joining Emily and Lord Coleridge. Jemmy was trying to get the donkey to move without success. ‘I think you need a bribe.’ She saw a barrow boy selling vegetables and darted back across the road to buy a carrot from him. It was rather wrinkled and past its best, but she thought the donkey would be hungry enough to be tempted. She paused for a moment and then dodged between a cart and a man leading a horse, narrowly avoiding being run over by a coal cart. ‘Try tempting him forward with this.’ She handed her prize to the lad.
‘Give it ’ere, miss. I’ll have a go.’ Jemmy held the carrot under the donkey’s nose. It snickered and then made a loud noise, trying to grab the food and succeeding. ‘Blimey! He snatched it…’ Jemmy’s mouth fell open.
He looked so astonished that Lord Coleridge gave a shout of laughter. He tossed the lad a gold coin. ‘I think you need to buy a large supply of treats,’ he said. ‘Be more careful next time.’
Jemmy caught the coin and started over the road. The donkey made an ear-shattering noise and trotted over the road after him. Discovering that there were many more carrots on the stall, it snatched another, and when the barrow boy yelled in anger, took off down the road at a run, Jemmy in hot pursuit.
‘Not quite as exhausted as we thought,’ Max said, highly amused. Helene stared at him indignantly as he laughed. He sobered as he caught the look in her eye. ‘Forgive me, Miss Henderson, but you have to admit that it was funny.’
‘Yes, it was,’ she said and the laughter suddenly bubbled up inside her. ‘Oh, dear, it seems I have cost you a great deal of money and a lot of trouble for nothing.’
‘Oh, no,’ Max told her. ‘To see that donkey with Jemmy in pursuit was worth far more than a few guineas, Miss Henderson. I do not know how he will live it down. I can only hope that my eloquence will be enough to retain his services—he may feel that he can no longer work for such a ramshackle fellow as myself.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘My groom awaits me patiently. Ladies—may I take you up in my curricle?’
‘Thank you, but we shall walk for the house is not far away,’ Helene said before Emily could reply. ‘It was kind of you to help us, sir—but we shall take up no more of your time.’
Max lifted his hat, his eyes bright with amusement. ‘I shall see you another day, Miss Henderson. If you manage to avoid being run over by carts or attacked by rogues, of course. Good afternoon.’
Helene watched him walk away. She turned to Emily, looking thoughtful. ‘He was very kind. I am not sure what would have happened if he had not come along just then. However, he seems to be one of those gentlemen who takes nothing seriously.’
‘I am sure you misjudge him. Lord Coleridge is fond of a jest, but quite a gentleman. You might have been in some danger,’ Emily told her. ‘That rogue would have hit you if he could. It was a little reckless of you, Helene.’
‘Yes, I know. My uncle has warned me of my impulsive nature—but I cannot abide cruelty, Emily.’
‘No, I see that you cannot,’ Emily said and gave her a look of approval. ‘Well, you were impulsive, Helene—but no harm came of it.’
‘No…’ Helene said, but she was thoughtful. She had rather liked the large gentleman, despite his tendency to levity—but whatever must he think of her?
