The Rebel’s Daughter (25 page)

If marriage was Helena’s only path to
security and respectability, she would take what came her way, with
no thought for a person happiness she had left behind in
Exeter.

Chapter
15

The
prospect of her first Yule spent
without her family filled Helena with dread. However, she soon
found herself caught up in the anticipation-charged days of
Christmastide at the famous Lambtons Inn. Servants darted through
corridors with laden arms, and balanced on ladders draping the
hallways with boughs of fragrant laurel, holly and
mistletoe.

Serving men, kitchen maids, cooks, servers
and pot-men all worked together with the incomparable Carstairs,
who organised the occasion like a military campaign.

Phebe
stood in the entrance hall and
wrinkled her nose. “It smells like a forest in here.”

“
I
know,” Helena sighed dreamily, taking deep breaths.

Alyce glided regally between the upper
rooms and the kitchens, issuing orders and supervising the
preparation of the vast amount of food required for the season.
There were the traditional vast Christmas pies made with game,
chicken, eggs, sugar, raisins, orange and lemon peel, mixed
together with rich spices. A cauldron of plum “porrage” bubbled
away on the fire, with generous portions of raisins steeped in wine
and spice, its rich, fruity aroma permeating the air. Sides of
beef, venison, pork and various screeching poultry arrived in the
kitchens, until the cooks protested they had no more room to
prepare it all.

A self-important Lubbock
appeared at intervals, carrying the news that
Lord T
had arrived with his party for
dinner, or that the
Earl of S
and his lady wished a private supper in an upper
room.

Harassed kitchen girls scurried between the
tables, and serving men bore laden trays at a run up the stairs to
the small dining rooms.

“
We have
a system of signals,” Phebe revealed to Helena in a rare moment of
confidence. “We can alert other as to when a person of consequence
is served
à
deux
in one
of the private chambers. Then we can hover nearby when they leave,
and see who they are.” She indicated a young man on the floor below
who gestured with both hands to another server.

“
I see,”
Helena said, not seeing at all.

“
Who do
you think it is?” Celia asked, throwing herself into the
occasion.

“
I know
not, but if you wait long enough,” Phebe declared confidently. “The
entire court of St James will pass along this corridor.”

Helena awoke on Christmas morning,
determined to overcome the sadness that lay like a stone beneath
her ribs. Consoling herself with the knowledge Henry would be
arriving later to eat dinner with them, she threw herself into the
festivities, distributing the fruits of her frequent shopping
expeditions to the “Change amongst her new friends.

When she went to her room in the afternoon
to fetch a shawl, she found a tearful Chloe crouched by the fire.
“What’s wrong, Chloe?”

The maid looked up, her face
tear-streaked. “Master Dev’ro is so kind, Mistress. He gave me
this.” She sniffed, holding up a gold chain at the end of which
twirled a gold cross.

“
It’s
very pretty, Chloe.” Helena noted it was a thin, light trinket and
not of the best quality.

The maid’s open delight made Helena almost
ashamed at the extravagance of her own gifts. A prayer book bound
in white kidskin, given to her by Master Devereux. For all his
flamboyance and emphasis on wealth and position, Robert was a
genuine and devout Anglican.

Alyce had presented her with a turquoise
silk shawl and a gold pin studded with jewels of green and blue,
fashioned like a peacock. Phoebe’s gift was a hand-painted fan, and
several lengths of ribbon, exquisitely made by the Huguenot weavers
in Spitalfields. Helena ensured she made a special point of
displaying pleasure over these, for Phebe was still unpredictable;
as capable of delivering a barbed retort as a kind word.

Celia gave Helena a pair of dancing shoes
in gold-embroidered blue brocade with latchet ties. “For your first
real ball in London,” she said, as Helena marveled at the paste
jewels attached to the heels.

Henry arrived with his arms full of
decorated pasteboard boxes filled with sugared fruit, spiced
almonds, stationery, and new quills. Others held combs and hair
ornaments, wig brushes and buttons; these he distributed with
largesse.

He spent the entire day at Lambtons,
eating, drinking and talking with the family and inn patrons, even
flirting with Phebe, who at one point was convinced the Duke of
Buckingham was in the dining hall, annoyed when no one would
believe her.

“
Oh,
ignore her.” Alyce leaned forward provocatively and caressed
Hendry’s cheek. “Phebe is always searching for famous faces among
the patrons.” In his mildly tipsy state, Henry tolerated Alice’s
attentions unembarrassed.

Helena studied her brother with new eyes.
In the few weeks of their separation, he had grown apace with new
clothes that made him more a gallant than a child. His features had
lost the boyish enthusiasm that displayed every emotion, and
replaced by a more considered maturity.

All enquires with reference to his
apprenticeship he answered with forethought and intelligence that
made Helena proud.

“
This
has been a wonderful Yule,” Helena said, at the end of the evening
when everyone collected their candles, ready to light them to
bed.

“
It’s
not over yet.” Celia handed her a candle from the box at the bottom
of the stairs. “Don’t forget the Lambtons” Twelfth Night party.
Father invites the patrons, who submit subscriptions to cover the
cost of their dinner.”

“
Mummers
perform plays in the main hall, and we have musicians and tumblers
to entertain us.” Phebe touched the wick of Helena’s candle with a
taper. “Then there is the Twelfth Night Cake, with a bean and pea
concealed inside. Do you have such things in Devon,
Helena?”

“
Indeed
we do, and whoever finds them rules as King and Queen of the
festivities.” Helena recalled her previous Christmas with a
pang.

“
Celia
was Queen last year.” Phebe gave her father a level stare as if he
were wholly responsible for the oversight. “Therefore this year, I
insist it shall be me.”

“
You are
too old for petulance,” Robert scolded, though the soft look in his
eyes belied his words. “The fates will decide who shall rule
Twelfth Night.”

* * *

Helena dressed in a plum-colored
gown that fell to the ground in silken folds
, with a split skirt pulled back to
reveal an ivory silk underskirt. The gilded oval of silvered glass
on her bureau blurred Helena’s features, giving her an ethereal
look. Eschewing the paint and patches Alyce favored, she brushed a
sheet of Spanish paper gently against each cheek, then rubbed it
into her lips to deepen their natural colour.

Chloe fastened her square, ruby pendant
round her throat, then wound wine colored ribbons into her hair,
teasing out the little “favorites” and “heartbreakers” onto her
temple and neck. “Is something wrong, Chloe?” Helena smoothed cream
into her hands to whiten them, while watching her maid’s frequent
glances toward the door.

“
No,
Mistress,” Chloe began. “It’s jus’, they’re giving a party in the
kitchen today for the servants, and I thought…” Her voice trailed
off.

For the first time Helena noticed that
Chloe wore her best skirt and bodice, with her hair not hidden
under her usual white cap, but dressed in curls fastened with
ribbon.

“
You may
go, Chloe.” Helena took pity on her. “Make sure you are back in
time to help me disrobe.”

Chloe sketched a hasty bob and hurried to
the door with as much grace as her damaged leg allowed, passing
Celia at the door, all pink and plump prettiness in a yellow-gold
gown, with a row of emeralds, a Christmas gift from her doting
parents, at her throat.

“
Is it
time to go down?” Helena patted her hair and smoothed her bodice.
Loud chattering and laughter drifted up the stairs, accompanied by
haunting mandolin music.

“
There’s
someone you must meet.” Celia joined her at the mirror, their gazes
locked in their reflections. “He’s not a guest, but you don’t know
him, so I suppose that makes him a guest, in a way.”

Helena placed her hands on either side of
her waist, taking cautions breaths to see how much leeway her
corset would allow. “Who is this guest who is not a
guest?”

“
Come
and see.” Celia darted to the door and back again, like a puppy
asking to go out.

They descended the stairs to the sound of
clinking glass and female laughter drifting up from the public
rooms. Bemused, Helena’s gaze rested on a tall young man at the
bottom of the stairs, to whom Alyce gave full attention. One
slender hand caressed his arm as she gazed adoringly into his
face.

Phebe
hung onto his other hand and Robert
stood to one side, smiling proudly.

As if sensing her presence, the newcomer
turned and met her gaze. For a moment, he reminded Helena so
vividly of the late Duke of Monmouth, she almost gasped, then
shrugged the thought away as ridiculous. He wore a sapphire blue
long-coat with deep turned-back cuffs in pale yellow, and heeled
and buckled black shoes. White lace frothed at his wrists. A
carefully knotted cambric cravat was around his throat, and the
ensemble was completed with a full-bottomed black wig.

“
What do
you think of him?” Celia whispered, though she did not wait for
Helena’s response before rushing on. “My brother William, come home
from his tour. It’s a new fashion you know, for young men to see
some of the continent before they embark on a career.”

Helena smiled as realization dawned. Alyce
frequently talked about her son in dreamy tones, regretting his
absence and bemoaning the fact they did not possess a likeness of
him to show Helena. Now here was the real thing, standing in the
hallway. Alice’s motherly pride had not embellished her son’s
looks, at all.

Helena took mental stock of how she might
appear to him, gratified that her fashionable gown flattered her
figure, and that her hair had been washed that morning.

Robert looked up and caught her eye,
beckoning her forward.

Although she tried to remain aloof, Helena
found herself drawn into the newcomer’s deep brown eyes, alight
with obvious appreciation.

He bowed over her outstretched hand
murmuring, “My pleasure, Mistress Woulfe.” He lifted his gaze to
her face, but retained a firm grip on her hand. Helena felt the
entrance hall recede, her fingers resting comfortably in his palm.
William’s eyes flamed with silent laughter as if in
challenge.

Helena refused to look away, hoping she
didn’t blush and betray how he affected her.

“
Isn’t
Helena lovely, William?” Phebe slid her arm possessively through
his, forcing him to drop Helena’s hand. “You must tell us about
Italy and France, we want to hear all your stories.”

Alyce stepped briskly to his other side, and
with Robert leading the way, they entered the throng of partygoers.
At the door, William glanced backward, his gaze fixed on Helena as
if an invisible thread ran between them.

Light-headed, Helena returned his steady
appraisal, then Celia jerked her forward, breaking the magic.
“Helena, you’re blushing,” she said, mischievously.

“
Not at
all; it is exceedingly warm in here.” Helena lifted her chin and
this time, she was the one dragging Celia along in her
wake.

The party gathered momentum,
with new arrivals crowding the hall being greeted exuberantly by
those they knew. Men wore high periwigs in a variety of colors,
piled high on their heads with rows of thick curls flowing over
their shoulders. Some sported tiny black patches on their faces, to
disguise scars and blemishes on their skin. Others wore as much
face paint as the women, making them look like garish
mannequins, with
splashes of red dabbed beneath their eyes.

Wherever Helena found herself during the
evening, William was never far away. Flattered, she encouraged his
company. She introduced him to Henry, who had arrived with Master
Newman, his pleasant, homely wife and their eldest daughter, whom
he introduced as Mary Ann.

“
What a
wonderful party,” Mary Ann exclaimed in a musical voice, her hands
clasped together in delight.

“
How are
you enjoying your “liking”, Henry?” William’s gaze drifted to
Helena as if seeking approval for the pertinent knowledge he
possessed of her brother.

Hendr
y’s mild expression altered to one of
earnestness. “Master Newman took me to Stationers Hall this last
week, to have my indentures stamped, so now I am officially an
architectural apprentice.”