The Rebel’s Daughter (42 page)

Evelyn gave a gentle laugh.

“
Who is
that man beside his Majesty? The handsome one on the left, in the
black peruke?”

Evelyn
’s gaze rested on the man. “That is
the Chief Chancellor, Lord Jeffreys.”

An involuntary shiver went down Helena’s
back, and gathering her skirts, she rose from the bench. “I must
go, sir.” She hesitated, regretting her impulse. He had still not
told her what might happen with Lord Blandness petition.

Evelyn held up a restraining hand. “I
doubt they have an inkling of who you might be,
Mistress.”

The party wandered off through a doorway
and Helena sank back onto the seat again. The footman with the dogs
lingered while the spaniels sniffed around the path, though in
seconds, they left too.

“
Am I a
threat to them, Master Evelyn?” The thought gave her a modicum of
satisfaction.

“
Your
brother might be, although the King has far more weighty personages
to worry about.” Catching her expression, he went on quickly. “I
suggest you write to Aaron and advise caution.”

“
About
taking action against the King?”

“
About
whom he tells that he is taking action against the
King.”

Helena almost laughed. There was no
judgment in his advice. In fact, he appeared almost sympathetic. “I
doubt he would listen to me in any case. My brother is foolish,
impetuous, and headstrong. He has not given a thought to how this
may affect me, my brother Henry, or…” She held her hands up in a
helpless gesture. “However there is a more urgent
matter.”

“
Lord
Blanden, yes I am aware of him,” he said slowly, staring off, his
eyes narrowed.

Helena
’s eyes swam with unshed tears. Was
she asking for too much?

He exhaled noisily, his hands braced on
his thighs as he pushed himself to his feet, his extended arm
toward her. “Now, let me escort you to the street and summon a
hackney.”

All the way back to Lambtons, Helena could
not fathom out whether he had agreed to help her or not.

Chapter
25

“Thank you,
Lubbock,” Helena said, trying to stop herself shaking as Lord
Blanden was shown into the small salon. “We shan’t require any
refreshment. His Lordship won’t be staying long.”

“A pity,”
Blandness irritating smirk appeared. “I was hoping you might at
least offer me some of Devereux's wine. He keeps a good cellar, I’m
told.” He neither bowed, nor did he accept her silent invitation to
sit. Instead he toured the room, his cane held to his bottom lip
while he examined the furniture and pictures on the walls.

“An excellent
one, sir,” Helena said, silently promising herself he would never
enjoy anything at Lambtons. Least of all the wine.

“Business has
kept me busy in the city this last week or so.” He continued his
slow tour of the room, passing close to the chaise where Helena
sat, her fists clenched on the upholstery. “Or I would have come
sooner. In face I’ve an appointment with the Chancellor Jeffreys
this afternoon to discuss a certain petition.” He circled the
chaise and paused beside her.

Not daring to
look at him, Helena closed her eyes and swallowed, fighting to keep
her breathing even. He gave off a fusty smell of badly-stored
clothes, combined with an earthy smell of male sweat and ale.

“I take it you
have had sufficient time to consider my proposal?”

“I have, sir.”
Her stomach lurched and she pressed a hand to her abdomen in an
effort to control the roiling inside, convinced he must hear it. “I
don’t think we would suit.” She glanced at the clock while at the
same time fingered the note in her pocket. He said he would be
here. Where was he?

“Come now,
Helena,” Blandness use of her given name set her to grinding her
teeth. “I think you are teasing me. But then women like to be
persuaded, I find. After all, what choice do you have? He reached
out a hand and traced the line of her jaw, then his fingers slid
down her neck and onto the bertha tucked into her bodice, tugging
it gently.

Helena froze,
unable to protest or even slap his hand away, enraged at his
presumption. The fact that he took his time, and actually chuckled,
evidently relishing her discomfort made her want to thrust him away
and scream that he was a monster. Her bravery deserted her and she
could only swallow and will him away.

When she didn’t
respond, he laid the cane on the floor and took the seat beside
her, his chin lowered to just above her shoulder. “I did not take
you for a cold woman, my dear. And the prospect cannot be so
unwelcome. After all I am a lusty, full grown man, knowledgeable in
the ways of women.” He gave another chuckle, this one low and
menacing. “A better one than my mealy-mouthed son would have made,
that I can promise you.”

Her shock
overruled her horror. “How could you talk of your own dead son in
such a manner?” Blanden went to take her hand in his, but she
snatched it away. “A boy he may have been, but he was a good soul.
Kind and gentle.”

“He was a
disappointment,” he sniffed. “I, however will not be.”

Helena held her
breath, wondering how long this farce would have to continue. Then
the corner of the curtain twitched and she smiled. Gathering her
courage she turned her head and stared into his eyes. “You already
are, My Lord.”

“You
disrespectful wench!” His mouth curled into a sneer as he grasped
her upper arms in both hands and swivelled her roughly towards him.
“For that, I’ll make sure I ruin your brothers and I’ll have you
anyway. Then I’ll-”

He broke off as
the curtain over the door was swept aside and Robert advanced into
the room, John Evelyn and Alyce behind him. They still wore their
outdoor clothes, which told Helena Lubbock must have warned them at
the door that Lord Blanden was already here.

“I see you
wasted no time, sir.” Robert removed his gloves slowly, looking
meaningfully at his own hands.

Helena squirmed
and rolled her shoulders out of Blandness hold and rose, backing
away from the chaise, and stood next to Robert.

“I-I was merely
paying Mistress Woulfe a call.” Blanden stood, tripped over the
cane he had placed on the floor, and staggered slightly.

“As what, sir?”
John Evelyn asked. “An old family friend?” The Devereux husband and
wife advanced on Lord Blanden like wolves circling their prey. “I
think not.”

Blanden bent to
retrieve his cane. On the upwards movement his gaze flicked to
Evelyn, and froze in recognition.

“Not leaving so
soon, My Lord?” Alyce asked, striking Blandness cheek with her fan
so hard, it left a red mark, but he seemed too astonished to react.
“Did you imagine Helena to be alone and friendless in London,
sir?”

“I-I have an
interview with the Lord Chancellor.” Flustered, Blanden attempted
to circumvent Robert, who sidestepped him, bringing him up
short.

Blanden turned
to his other side, only to be halted again by Evelyn. “I believe,
My Lord, you have been busy lodging petitions?”

It’s perfectly
valid,” Blanden almost whined. “The property is rightfully mine,
and…”

“Stop
blustering, man.” Robert took a step toward him. “You’re a liar and
a villain, and you will get no more of Sir Jonathan’s
possessions.”

Robert and
Evelyn had deliberately positioned themselves far apart, which
meant he had to constantly shift position as they took turns to
talk in order to face his questioner.

Evelyn stepped away and
behind
Robert’s back he directed a
slow,
knowing wink at her, which sent a ripple of warmth through Helena’s
veins, like brandy on a cold day. Her ragged nerves settled, and
she breathed normally again.

Helena realised
she had been foolish to be so frightened of Lord Blanden. He was no
threat to her. He was simply a greedy malcontent who took pleasure
in browbeating women. He could not even be true to his own faith.
Robert had discovered that to ingratiate himself with the King, he
had publicly converted to Catholicism. She wondered what his
associates in Exeter would think of that.

“I’ve perused
the document, My Lord.” Evelyn’s tone made the last two words an
insult. “In my position as Privy Seal, I decree it holds no merit.
Therefore I have refused it.”

“But - His
Majesty…” Lord Blanden spluttered.

“The King will
not even see it, sir.” Evelyn’s voice was like a whip, slicing
through the man’s protests. “It is over, My Lord.”

Narrowing his
eyes, Blanden gave a guttural snarl, his black cane tapping
rhythmically into the palm of his hand as he glared at each of them
in turn.

Lubbock was
either listening at the door, or his reputed psychic powers were
not fantasy after all, as he chose that moment to fling open the
door. He immediately stepped to one side and bowed an invitation
for Blanden to leave.

Left with no
choice, Blanden strode to the door, turning back on the threshold.
“I’ll be lodging the petition again in Exeter,” he growled as he
swung on his heel, waving the cane at them. “I’m an important man.
The Magistrates dare not ignore me.”

“You would be
advised to look to what you have already acquired by treachery,
Lord Blanden.” Robert called after him. “Your ill-gained wealth can
be lost just as easily.”

The door swung
shut with a resounding bang, and a smirking Lubbock retreated in
the direction of the kitchen.

“Are you quite
well, my dear?” Robert asked.

“I thought you
were never going to get here,” she said, weak with relief. Then
louder. “Thank you, Master Evelyn.”

Evelyn flicked
a thick lock of his peruke over one shoulder, his thin lips curling
in a mischievous smile. “You’re quite welcome, Mistress Woulfe. I
have to say I quite enjoyed that.”

“We couldn’t
locate that damned petition at first.” Robert’s eyes beseeched her
to excuse the expletive.

“I had my
entire office turned upside down, but we found it in the end,”
Evelyn said. “Don’t worry, my dear,” he continued when Helena took
in a quick breath. “I ensured the thing was destroyed, and no
record of it remains.”

“I had no idea
you were aware of Blandness threat.” Helena blinked back tears. “I
had decided to solve the problem alone, or rather with Master
Evelyn’s help.”

“Couldn’t leave
things as they were,” Robert slapped his gloves against the palm of
his hand. “Not when you were so distressed the other day. Evelyn
told me you had gone to see him. I insisted he tell me what it was
about. Damned blackguard.” At Evelyn’s start he rushed on. “No, not
you, sir. That Blanden fellow. Though I was a trifle disappointed
he did not put up more of a fight.”

“Even so, I’m
grateful to all of you. Especially you, Master Evelyn.”

“You are most
welcome, my dear.” Evelyn made a courtier’s leg in
acknowledgement.

Helena smiled,
but she was still uneasy. Lord Blanden hadn’t been all bluster when
he informed on her father; nor was he a coward when he demanded
Judge Jeffreys hand him Loxsbeare. She shivered, telling herself it
was simply a reaction to seeing him again. “What if he does present
his petition to Exeter?” She broke off, unable to voice her worst
fears.

“Oh, I doubt he
will receive a sympathetic hearing,” Evelyn said airily, offering
Alyce his arm. “Not when it has already been rejected here. I shall
send word to the City Magistrates to inform them of the fact.”

“That is
settled then.” Alyce tucked Helena’s arm beneath her elbow. “Let us
go in to a well-earned dinner and forget all about Lord Blanden. I
simply do not wish to hear the man’s name mentioned again.”

“Neither do I,”
Helena whispered.

Robert halted
her with a hand on her elbow. “Helena, when I came into the room,
did I misinterpret what I saw?”

For a long
moment as she stared into his sympathetic eyes, tempted to tell him
about Blandness proposition.

She summoned a
bright smile. “He won’t bother either of us again.” She tucked her
arm through his, hoping she was right. “Let’s go into dinner. I’m
quite ravenous.”

* * *

Helena leaned her hands on the
wooden sill, breathing the sharp night air through the open window.
In only her linen shift and underskirt, she waited for Chloe to
arrive and help her dress. The cold had dampened the worst of the
coal smoke
,
and she didn’t mind the winter wind that tugged her unbound hair
away from her face.

From downstairs came the bustle and
clattering of the cooks and serving men as they prepared her
wedding dinner. Since morning, daylight had strained through a
layer of yellowish cloud drifting northward from the industrial
city fires south of the river, the cobbles slick with ice that
clung treacherously, thawing during the day to freeze again as the
temperature dropped near dusk.

The inn lamps had been lit, throwing a
welcoming glow onto the darkening street.

Pitch torches flanked the door in preparation
for the guests, who would have to pick their way through a layer of
grimy water between their carriages and the main door. The larger
dining hall was shut off from the curious public for the nuptials,
and by evening, the intense cold had dampened down the worst smells
of the city.

Helena
’s looked at a small canvas propped
up on her bureau, depicting a scene of Exeter’s North Gate with the
road leading up to the Weare Cliffs; a view Helena knew intimately.
The letter that came with it sat at her right hand, and she read
the most interesting part again.