The Rebel’s Daughter (38 page)

A small knot settled beneath her
breastbone at the thought of Aaron, whose letters had lately taken
the form of political rants and religious tracts, with appended
instructions as to how she and Henry were to conduct themselves in
his absence. Would he be angry and disapprove of her decision, or
would he be glad to have her off his hands? She had taken a while
to admit to herself that she had been disappointed when Henry had
chosen his own path without discussing his plans with her. He had
spoken to Samuel first, and simply presented her with his decision.
Though she was happy for him now seeing how happy he was, and he
would welcome another fireside to visit, and a table to eat at
during his free evenings.

The prospect of having her own household
was a heady one; no matter it would not be grand, like the Saffron
Hill property Ralf had provided for Celia. She glanced round the
snug room where she sat, wondering if she too might have Dutch
delft arranged in a rack on the wall, like the
housekeeper.

“
Helena.
Whatever are you doing sitting here all alone?” Helena jumped at
the sound of Phoebe’s voice. “You must join the family and let us
all fuss over you, now that you are a betrothed woman.”

“
Did Guy
already tell you?” Helena rose slowly from her chair. “Or did your
father?”

Phebe
smirked. “It was Lubbock. He’s been
hovering at doors all morning hoping to be the first to spread the
good news.”

“
Ah! A
far more reliable source.” Helena smoothed down her skirt and
tucked her journal into a pocket.

Phebe
linked their arms as they crossed the
hallway, accepting Lubbock’s low bow at the door of the salon.
“Have you seen my brother, Lubbock?” Phebe asked, drawing Helena to
a halt. “He should be here to join in the festivities.” She leaned
closer to Helena, whispering, “…and to kick himself for having
missed his chance with you.”

“
Phebe,
really!” Helena snapped, though an uncomfortable heat flood into
her face.

“
I saw
the young master a little while ago, Mistress Phebe,” Lubbock
regarded her down his long nose. “I informed him of Mistress
Helena’s recent news, but he seemed somewhat, well,
disconcerted.”

“
He
wasn’t drunk again, was he?” Phebe sighed. “I swear he’s getting
worse of late. He almost started a fight with Guy Palmer the other
day when-” she broke off and patted Helena’s arm. “Listen to me I’m
as bad as Mama.”

Lubbock coughed into a fist before
answering. “No, Mistress he was not. However, he did say something
about going to the coffee house, and that the prospect of His
Majesty’s Navy had begun to appeal.”

“
He was
jesting with you, Lubbock. Can you see my brother on board ship?”
Phebe erupted into high-pitched giggles.

Suddenly numb, Helena trailed at Phoebe’s
elbow, the prospect of never seeing William again engulfed her in a
cold, almost panicked sweat.

“
Are you
happy, Helena?” Phebe asked suddenly, pausing in the
doorway.

“
What a
strange question.” Helena looked at her askance. “I am to be
married. Is that not a cause for any woman’s happiness?”

Images of William in uniform filled her
head, followed by visions of vast, empty oceans with dangers,
threats, storms and pirates. Her stomach hurt. Even if nothing
awful happened to him and he came home, it would not be for
years.

“
Not so
strange.” Phoebe’s penetrating stare reminded her of like Alyce.
“It depends on whether it was a rehearsal, or the real
thing.”

“
You are
an odd one, Phebe.” Helena’s laugh sounded unconvincing even to
herself.

Chapter
23

Preparing for bed that night,
Helena gave an annoyed groan when she saw her last remaining candle
had guttered to a stub. She had already dismissed a yawning Chloe,
but did not wish to finish her toilette to an accompaniment of
scratching from the rats
behind the skirting. With only a loose manteau
over her nightgown, and her hair falling loose over her shoulders,
she managed to reach the deserted hall unseen. She knew fresh
candles were kept in a box beneath the hall table.

With a supply safe in her pocket, she had
gained the first landing on her way back upstairs, when she heard
footsteps descending from the flight above.

A low male voice murmured something, and a
woman giggled in response, their voices growing louder as they drew
nearer.

Helena smiled. Someone had been entertaining
a lady in one of the upper rooms. Aware suddenly that they were
bound to pass her, and with no time to cross the landing before
they reached her, she ducked back into an alcove and waited for
them to pass.

A man and a woman swayed into view, his
arm encircling her waist as they giggled together and
half-staggered down each step. They reached the landing window,
through which moonlight shone onto the woman’s face, her chin
tilted to her companions while she laughed throatily into his eyes
with a look of total infatuation.

The couple turned the corner about to descend
the last flight of stairs, when the man must have heard something
and swiveled his head toward the alcove where Helena stood.

Helena froze as her gaze met William’s,
and held it.

Surprise lit his eyes, followed by
embarrassment. Helena stared him out, nursing a small triumph that
he was far more uncomfortable than she.

In response to the woman’s whispered
enquiry as to what he was looking at, he merely turned and swept
her down the steps in front of him.

Once he was out of sight, Helena eased out
from her hiding place and fled back to her room. Clicking the door
shut as firmly as she could without slamming it, she hurled the
candles across the room and launched herself onto the bed.

“I was right about him all along,” she muttered, punching her
pillows into submission. “
He’s a shallow, dissolute rake, with no thought
for anyone but himself and his own pleasures.”

The idea she might have considered William,
for even the briefest of moments, as a prospective husband, made
her burn with shame. She stared at the canopy above her bed until
well after the watch called two of the clock, her bed uncomfortably
rumpled, before she finally fell asleep.

* * *

One particular sultry day,
Helena visited the New Exchange, taking Chloe with her. Helena
enjoyed wandering the stalls at her own pace, without having to
listen to
Phoebe’s constant prattle, or having to wait for her when
she stopped to chat to acquaintances every few yards.

With no parents on either side to make the
arrangements on their behalf, Robert insisted their winter wedding
would be held at Lambtons. Even with such a small celebration,
there was still plenty of shopping to do. Helena located the
shoemaker Alyce had recommended on the upper concourse, whose
proprietor became particularly attentive when the name of Devereux
was mentioned. A thin man who looked as fragile as if he might snap
in the middle at the slightest pressure.

His peruke was the colour of dirty ash,
and he kept dipping his head whenever he spoke. Having spotted
several pairs of heeled shoes with decorated lappets, she strode to
the far side of the shop to examine his work more
closely.

“
Are
they for a special occasion, Mistress?” he asked, bobbing
forward.

“
My
Mistress is to be married,” Chloe answered for her, blushing
guiltily at Helena’s annoyed frown.

“
In that
case, I insist I make you bespoke ones myself.” His ferrety eyes
sparkled and he measured her feet with spidery fingers, scratching
figures on a page.

Once the process was complete, he bowed
her to the door again with repeated assurances. “I will have them
delivered to Lambtons in a little over a sen'night, Mistress
Woulfe.”

Helena emerged from the shop onto the
balcony on the upper concourse, from where she caught sight of a
man in a brocade long coat and curly brown periwig, at a stall a
little way along. He twisted a polished cane in one hand as he bent
over a tray of men’s” gloves on the stall.

Helena froze as recognition slammed into
her like a blow. She halted mid-stride, causing Chloe to collide
into her back, the parcels she carried littering the floor at
Helena’s feet.

“
Oh,
Mistress, I do beg your pardon,” Chloe dipped and collected the
parcels as she spoke. “Are you quite well?” she asked righting
herself. “You’ve gone quite pale, whatever is…”

Helena lifted her finger to her lips. She
hauled a ragged breath into her chest, staring fixedly at on the
man’s back. Hatred welled up inside her in a hot rush, and she
ground her teeth, mentally reciting every insulting name she could
summon.

He had yet to notice her, but just then his
head swiveled in her direction and he gave a start.

Raising himself slowly to his full height, he
lightly swung his cane lightly in one hand as he closed the gap
between them, ignoring the protests of patrons forced to move
aside.

“
Mistress Helena Woulfe,” he drawled, offering her an
inadequate bow that bordered on the insulting.

“
Lord
Blanden,” Helena replied in a voice calmer than she thought
possible.

Lifting her chin, she returned his arrogant
stare. His expression was not soft or ingratiating, as it had been
when she was his future daughter-in-law. This man was
self-satisfied, leering even and his thin lips formed a sneer as
his gaze flicked insolently over her.

The noise and bustle of the “Change went
on around her, but Helena’s ears were filled with a roaring sound
as she stared back at the hard face of the man she had hoped never
to meet again.

* * *

“
How
opportune that fate has decreed we should meet thus, Mistress.”
Blanden arched an eyebrow, his wry smile transforming into a
disparaging smirk. “I came to the city with the express purpose of
seeking you out.”

“
Me,
Lord Blanden? What could you possible want from me?” She schooled
her expression into an aloofness Phebe would have applauded, though
the sight of man’s face made her nauseous.

He stared around at the bustling “Change
as if he had not heard her. “I have business at the Court of St
James. Did you not hear I have been made one of his Majesty’s
Commissioners?”

“
I did
not, sir.” She inclined her head. Nor did she care.

Her apparent disinterest seemed to anger
him, and he stepped forward, bringing the cane up in front of her
face. “I know what Ffoyle did for you and that whelp brother of
yours.” His voice was laden with menace.

“
I see
my father’s assessment was correct. You are no gentleman,” Helena
replied, refusing to show him weakness, though she could barely
breathe.

Chloe uttered a small cry beside her, but
Blanden ignored her.

A party of well-dressed women brushed past
them like ships in full sail, their laughter ringing round the
hall. Blanden didn’t move out of their way, forcing them to
circumnavigate him.

“
Those
houses in the Magdalen Road should be mine, as well as the
warehouses on the quay,” he spat the words as if he had waited a
long time for this confrontation. “And don’t think I don’t know
Samuel Ffoyle’s flock of sheep trebled last summer,
too.”

Helena swallowed. “Wasn’t my Father’s
house and his lands enough payment for your treachery, Lord
Blanden?” She dragged out his name as insolently as she
dared.

“
I’m not
answerable to you, Mistress.” His low growl brought curious stares
their way, but no one intervened. “I have nothing to feel guilty
for. I did my duty by our Sovereign and my reward,” he lifted his
fleshy chin in defiance, “will be to attend the king’s birthday
ball this autumn.”

Helena
’s grip on her fan snapped one of the
bone spars between her fingers, the sharp edge cutting into her
skin.

“
I hear
you are living in Lambtons alehouse.” Blanden gave a cruel laugh.
“More than a traitor’s brat should expect, in my view.” His rodent
eyes slid over her again. “Although I have to admit you look
exceedingly prosperous for it.” He sounded almost
disappointed.

His eye caught the diamond pendant at her
throat, and his eyes widened. He tapped her neck lightly with the
cane. “Was that your mother’s?” he sniggered. “It’s part of the
estate, I think, as are all her jewels.” He lowered his voice to a
whisper, which made her skin crawl. “I’ll have those,
too.”

His taunt acted on Helena like cold water,
her fury replaced her fear, and a retort sprang to her lips. She
bit back her boast of Hendry’s career and her forthcoming marriage.
Why give the man more ammunition? Instead, she expelled a steady
breath. “I’m sure it will not surprise you if I express no delight
at this encounter, Lord Blanden. So I’ll bid you good
day.”