Gather the Bones (29 page)

Tony set his glass down and rose to his feet, his chin set in an unfamiliar defiance. “We will just have to show her she’s wrong.”

Paul swilled the last of the whiskey in the bottom of his glass before he looked up at Tony. “Tony, I can see how you feel about her but what does she feel about you? Does she love you?”

The defiance fled from Tony’s face and his mouth drooped. “Truth? I don’t think so, not like I feel about her, but love can come, don’t you think?”

Paul shrugged. “I’m the last person to ask. I’ve never had the luxury of being in love.”

After the door shut behind Tony, Paul set his glass down on the table and stared at the flickering flames of the fire. The fire died down and a chill descended on the room.

“You know something,” he said to the silent watcher at the window. “I’ve never been in love before I met Helen Morrow and now I’m letting her go. Am I doing the right thing?”

* * * *

Helen took the seat Tony held out for her and looked around the Savoy Grill.

“Tony, this is too generous,” she said. “A suite at the hotel and now dinner?”

“Only the best for my goddaughter and her mother.” Tony smiled. “I haven’t had much of a chance to spoil Alice and if you’re intent on disappearing off to Paris, I must make the most of my time with you both.”

Helen smiled in response. “You are a good godfather. Alice adores you.”

Tony flushed with pleasure. “I’m glad to hear that. Everyone needs to be adored by someone.” He looked at her with serious eyes. “I haven’t had a chance to ask how you are?”

“Oh, I’m fine. At peace with myself, if that’s possible. How are things at Holdston?” she asked, trying to keep the tone of her voice casual.

Tony shrugged. “Much the same. Evelyn is soldiering on as she does, but she seems to have lost her fight.”

“I’m sorry. And what about Paul?”

“Tied up with getting the estate into something saleable. Now you remind me I’m actually on an errand from Evelyn. She asked me to give you this.” He handed over an envelope.

“Do you mind if I open it?” Helen asked.

Tony shook his head.

Helen scanned the contents of the short, sharp note.

My dear Helen, You left before I had a chance to tell you of my plans for Charlie’s memorial service. It will be held on Wednesday next in the church here at Holdston. As Charlie’s widow and the mother of his child, I expect you would both wish to attend. For your information, I intend to dedicate a scholarship at the local school to his memory. I thought that might please you. Lady E. Morrow.

Helen handed the note to Tony and said, as he scanned it, “I left Brussels because I had a train to catch and she was in no state for visitors. She has such a knack of making everything I do sound like it’s my fault. Of course, I will go to the service. Are you invited?”

“We all are. I’ll drive you and Alice to Warwickshire.”

“Thank you. I’ll arrange a hotel in Warwick. That might be easier than staying at Holdston.”

“Oh, I’m sure...that is...”

She looked at Tony. He seemed discomposed. A fine sweat had broken out across the bridge of his nose and he downed his wine like cordial.

“Is something bothering you, Tony?”

He looked up and gave her a rueful smile.

“You’re going to think me the most frightful ass!” Tony’s mouth quirked. “Ever since I first saw you in the drawing room at Wellmore, you’ve been all I’ve thought about.”

Helen stared at him, willing him not to say the words she knew would follow. He held up his hand, cutting short any protestation from her.

“Let me finish. I know you don’t love me, Helen, but do you think you could come to love me?”

“What sort of question is that?” Helen’s heart thudded against her ribs.

“I’m asking you to marry me,” Tony swallowed, staring at her.

“Tony–” Helen’s hands twisted the fine linen napkin on her lap as she struggled to find the right words.

“You don’t have to answer straight away,” Tony said hurriedly.

“I...I don’t know what to answer,” Helen said. “Can I think about it?”

Tony’s hand shook as he picked up the glass. “Take all the time you need.” He added with a smile, “As long as the answer is yes. You must have known how I felt about you?”

She shook her head, remembering the day he had kissed her. Of course she had known but she had thought it nothing more than a passing fancy.

He picked up her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips. “I think you are the most beautiful, enchanting, delightful, intelligent woman I have ever met.”

“Your parents will most certainly not approve.”

Tony smiled. “Oh, Father thinks you’re wonderful. Mother, on the other hand, may take some convincing. Charlie’s memorial service is in two days. Let me spoil you for a couple of days and then come back to Wellmore with me. You can stay there and work your charm on her?”

“Tony you’re making an assumption–” Helen began.

“Yes, I am. Come down to Wellmore, as my fiancée, Helen.”

“You said I could take all the time I needed.”

“So I lied. Helen, face it, I’m charming, moderately handsome, incredibly wealthy, possessed of one of the most beautiful houses in England and a title and I am completely, utterly, in love with you. How could you refuse me?”

Helen looked at him. She could think of no logical reason to say no, except that she was, quite possibly, in love with another man.

No, she knew without any doubt that she loved Paul Morrow.

The memory of their kiss on the bank of the canal in Brussels came back with such force that she touched her lips as if she could still feel the trace of that instant in time. She had replayed that scene over and over in her mind and convinced herself that what had passed between them was nothing more than two lonely people thrown together in an unreal situation. Just for a heartbeat, it had seemed possible that her feelings had been reciprocated but then he had pulled away and the moment had gone.

Helen looked away. The band had begun to tune up and it gave her a distraction. She could forget any thought of a future with Paul Morrow. He had chosen his solitary path.

She looked back at Tony, at the boyish eagerness in his face and the love in his eyes. She liked Tony and that in itself was probably as good a start to any marriage. What was the alternative? To live out her life on Terrala as cook, cleaner and occasional secretary to her father and brothers? Just another war widow?

A bleak and lonely future lay before her and as Tony had said, love could come in time. Friendship seemed a good start. She closed her eyes for a moment.

“Very well,” she said. “On one condition, Tony.”

“Anything.”

“I don’t want any public announcement until after the memorial service. It just wouldn’t be right.”

Tony’s face sobered and he nodded. “No, of course not. I quite understand. But for tonight, Helen, let’s have some fun.”

Tony’s eyes lit up and he sent the waiter scurrying for the best champagne. The band struck up a tune and Helen mustered a smile.

“Let’s dance,” she said.

Chapter 21

Tony’s Riley came to a halt in front of the impressive portico of Wellmore House. Helen looked up at the haughty exterior of the house and gave a Tony a nervous smile.

He took her hand and squeezed it encouragingly. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

Lady Hartfield received them in her private parlour on the first floor. She stood up to greet her son, her fingers playing with a long string of pearls.

“Hello, Ma.” Tony dropped an affectionate kiss on her powdered cheek.

“Darling,” she responded but her eyes remained fixed on Helen. “Mrs. Morrow, what an unexpected pleasure.” Her tone dripped with ice but she extended a hand, which Helen took and shook firmly.

“Lady Hartfield. It’s very kind of you to have me to stay.”

Maude tightened her lips in a manner that indicated that she was not sure she had extended the invitation.

“Is your daughter with you?” she enquired.

“She’s staying up in London with Angela. Ange is taking her to a show tonight and will bring her down for the memorial service tomorrow,” Tony said. Where’s Pa?”

“In the library, I think.”

Tony turned to the maid who hovered in the doorway. “Please ask his Lordship to join us.”

“Tony?” Her ladyship’s gaze rested on Helen.

Tony’s hand closed over Helen’s and he drew her to his side as Lord Hartfield came stumping into the room.

“Anthony, my boy.” He slapped his son on the shoulder. “What is that you have to say that necessitates disturbing my afternoon nap?”

“Helen Morrow has consented to marry me,” Tony said without preamble.

For a moment time stood still. Lady Hartfield’s horrified look remained frozen on her face. Lord Hartfield just blinked.

“Good God!” he said. “What d’ya think of that, my dear.”

The horror on Lady Hartfield’s face had been replaced by an expression of refined good manners. “Something of a surprise, I must say,” she managed with a stiff smile not reflected in her eyes.

“I would have thought it would be something of a relief, Ma,” Tony remarked drily. “No more debutantes to entertain.”

Lady Hartfield gave a nervous laugh. “Quite. I think some sort of celebratory dinner is called for. I shall go and speak to Cook. Why don’t you show Helen to the yellow bedroom and we can discuss this more fully over dinner.”

* * * *

Helen dressed carefully in the new green silk gown Tony had insisted on buying for her. For the hundredth time she checked her reflection in the mirror. She had never been so nervous in her entire life.

With her heart thudding, she walked downstairs toward the withdrawing room. The door was slightly ajar and she could hear Lady Hartfield’s voice cutting through the room.

“We know nothing about her, Tony.” She spoke in a harsh, uncompromising tone that chilled Helen’s blood

“You’re being ridiculous, Ma. I know as much as I need to know about her.”

“She could be descended from convicts for all we know.” Lady Hartfield was in full flight now.

Helen took a breath to steady her jangling nerves. She opened the door and stood there, confronting her foe, her fingers playing with her necklace. Tony and his mother turned to face her. Lady Hartfield paled as she realised Helen had probably overheard her last outburst.

“My family are respectable and respected free settlers, Lady Hartfield. We own a substantial cattle property in central Victoria. My father is a member of the Victorian Parliament. Is there anything else you wish to know about me?”

Lady Hartfield swallowed. “My dear, you must understand. Our family–”

“Our family,” Tony interjected, “needs an infusion of fresh blood. Helen is the best thing to happen to us in years.”

“It’s all right, Tony,” Helen said. “I would rather that everything that needs to be said is said now, up front. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life tiptoeing on eggshells.”

“Well said, young lady!” Lord Hartfield rose from his chair. “I for one, Maude, endorse everything the lad has to say. We bloody well need some spirit in this family. All those damned ninnies you’ve been parading past the boy are enough to make a man puke. I like this gal.”

“Cedric.” Outnumbered, Lady Hartfield turned on her husband.

“Lady Hartfield,” Helen kept a quiet, deferential tone to her voice despite the raging anger inside her. “I hope that as we come to know each other better, we can be friends.”

“My dear, don’t misunderstand me,” Lady Hartfield said stiffly, “My concern is only that Tony makes the right choice and if he feels that you are that person then who am I to stand in his way.”

Lord Hartfield got to his feet. “Good, air cleared. Now let’s have some champagne and you can start planning the wedding, Maude. You’ll enjoy that.”

“Do you have a date?” Lady Hartfield’s hand closed over the stem of the champagne glass offered to her by the butler.

Tony opened his mouth to speak but Helen interposed. “We’ve not made any plans. In fact, we think it best that any official announcements wait for a little. My husband’s memorial service is tomorrow and it would be quite inappropriate to be planning weddings until a decent interval has passed.”

She glanced at Tony hoping he could read the mute appeal in her eyes.

Tony cleared his throat. “Helen is quite right. We’ll hold off on any official engagement announcement for a few weeks and then we can start making plans.” He raised his glass. “Let’s drink to future happiness.”

Chapter 22

A dismal summer drizzle wreathed the little church at Holdston. Helen pulled the collar of her new coat up around her face as she followed the Hartfields into the churchyard. Tony took her arm and patted her hand. Once more dressed in uniform, he bore little resemblance to his normal, cheery self. It was as if the uniform, like the rain, shrouded him, hiding the real Tony from view.