Chapter Twelve

That evening as they sat down to dinner in a festive mood, there was the sound of an arrival in the foyer. Sir Ivor threw down his napkin and rose to his feet just as Timms formally announced at the doorway, “Lady Stafford and the Misses Stafford, sir.”

A slender gray-haired lady glided in, removing her bonnet with one hand. “Ivor, my dear! I begged Timms not to be so formal, but you know how much he likes to do the right thing.” She kissed her son, holding one of his hands clasped in her own. “And who are these charming ladies? Just fancy. I come to town to find you dining with not one, but two delightful young ladies!”

Ivor cast his eyes up, looking embarrassed as his mother twitted him. “This is Miss Marshfield and Miss Caroline Yardley, Mama. Ladies, this is my mother, Lady Anthea Stafford, and if I’m not mistaken, my two sisters are not far behind.”

There was a lot of giggling, and two young women rushed into the room. He attempted to formally introduce them, but the younger one would have none of that. Whilst the older of his sisters went to her bedchamber to put off cloak and bonnet, the younger one protested, “Ivor, I’m simply famished. Timms, please take my cloak. I shall sit down at the table right now.”

She was a charming, bouncy young woman of about sixteen, and Helena saw that Lady Stafford put out a restraining hand to contain her enthusiasm.

“Let us all introduce ourselves properly first. Miss Marshfield and Miss Yardley, this is my younger daughter, Erica. As you can see, she has not touched a morsel of food since the beginning of our journey yesterday.” She said in an aside to Helena, “As a matter of fact we stopped for quite an hour on the road for Erica to consume a large repast at midday. She ate an apple not more than an hour ago.” Lady Stafford sighed and laughed. “It is to be hoped she will not resemble a butterball on her coming-out.”

“And when is her coming-out out to be, ma’am?” Helena inquired politely.

“Not for three Seasons yet if I have my way,” Lady Stafford said darkly.

“No, Mama! Ivor promised that I would come out next year. You know he did, and you agreed.”

“That was before you ate us out of house and home, my child.”

“But I’m hungry, Mama.”

“Then please drink your soup which has been in front of you for some time, darling.”

“Oh!” Erica attacked her meal with zest.

Caroline had been watching quietly from the sidelines as was her wont, and Sir Ivor commented to Erica that Caroline was just ‘out’ this Season.

“Are you being presented?” Erica demanded, her dark ringlets bouncing as she swiveled to face Caroline.

“No. I’m not…er…”

“Neither am I,” Erica said unexpectedly. “Nerida didn’t bother either, did she Mama?”

“No. If you don’t wish to be presented to the Queen, that is acceptable. I have no quarrel with that. Quite a few young ladies nowadays are just having coming-out balls,” Lady Stafford commented.

Nerida, the older daughter, joined them at the table and agreed with her sister. “Indeed. I have no wish to wear an old-fashioned train and feathers and to meet people I shall never see again,” she said.

Caroline’s eyes met Helena’s across the table, and they smiled.

“Ah, I gather that you were formally presented, Miss Marshfield,” Lady Stafford said.

“Yes. I told Caroline about my adventures with my train, whilst trying to back out of the Queen’s presence.”

“How ghastly! Did you trip over?” Erica asked, laughing.

“No, but nearly. The worst part was that my feathers were slowly sliding down the back of my neck, and that distracted me. Very unnerving.”

Erica hooted with laughter until remonstrated with. “That is the sort of thing that would happen to me. That is why I shall not bother.”

Ivor Stafford watched the woman he loved interact easily with his mother and sisters and thought how right it all looked. Until four weeks ago he would have dismissed such a thought. Now he knew without a doubt that Helena Marshfield was exactly where he wanted her to be—in his house, amongst his family. He felt his mother glancing at him and hastily averted his gaze. His mother knew him too well. She was not the sort of person who would make an adverse comment about his choice of life’s partner, but he did not wish her to assume that he had already made a formal offer to Helena and treat it as a fait accompli. He desperately needed to speak to Helena alone. Now that his mother and sisters had arrived, that looked like being difficult.

“By the by, Ivor,” Nerida said, selecting a spoonful of collop of beef. “You didn’t tell us you had guests. I went to the blue room as usual, and a charming young man was sitting up in bed, eating his dinner from a tray. Then Mrs. Annerwith came clucking around and, before I could introduce myself, she escorted me to the room at the end of the corridor. Who is he?”

“Well, if you had arrived earlier, instead of lingering on the road, and had then had time for introductions…” her brother baited her, “then you would know all about it.”

Helena leaned forward. “I am sorry if my brother has your usual room, Miss Stafford. He was injured on the Peninsula and is unable to negotiate any long corridors or stairs for some weeks. That is why he is not at the dinner table.”

Nerida glanced up quickly. “Oh, I was not complaining. Yes, of course.” She laid her head on one side and examined Helena’s face. “I should have seen the resemblance. It is just that Ivor is extremely uncommunicative. And where is Ned? I thought he would be here to welcome us.”

“So he would be if you had given us notice of your precise movements,” Ivor retaliated. “All we knew is that you were expected sometime this week.” He seemed to be able to hold his own amongst his womenfolk. Indeed, he gave a considerable license to his sisters, which would have been unthinkable in some more formal households. Helena was enchanted. They were such a friendly, unaffected group of ladies. Just the sort of people one would like to have as friends. She brought herself up short—if one was not merely a companion, of course.

“And are you and Miss Yardley enjoying your Season so far, Miss Marshfield?” Lady Stafford inquired, under cover of the general conversation.

Helena drew a breath. “I am just here to assist with my brother’s nursing, Lady Stafford. Caroline is my friend. At least…I was her governess.”

There was a general lull in the conversation at this point, and several heads turned toward her. Nerida was the first to speak. “Why, what a coincidence Miss Marshfield! We have a governess in our family, don’t we Ivor?”

“Yes. I thought Miss Marshfield and Mama would deal well together.”

Helena swallowed hard and slowly turned and looked at him. She was sure her jaw was dropping. But now the mystery as to why he had befriended a mere governess was solved.

“Miss Marshfield, if you could but see yourself! Your eyes are as round as saucers. I keep telling you that governessing is an honorable profession, but for some reason you seem to be ashamed of it.” Ivor Stafford then had the infernal cheek to go on calmly eating his dinner.

“N-not ashamed of it. It’s just that—”

“It’s just that one is neither of the family, nor of the servants, isn’t that so, Miss Marshfield?” Lady Stafford’s hand covered Helena’s where it lay on the table. “Well do I remember that feeling. I was only employed in one household where Theo—my husband you know—was the older son. It was not an easy thing for him to marry me, because his parents were high sticklers. Although they professed to like me, they were not prepared to admit me to their family at first. However, it took but a few weeks and things gradually resolved themselves. I think when faced with the choice of his marrying me, or marrying the scandalous daughter of one of their aristocratic friends as planned, they decided I was slightly more acceptable. Besides which, the young lady was quite clear about her disinclination to marry anyone at all. And you, Miss Marshfield…how long have you been a governess?”

“She is our companion now,” Caroline broke in.

“Ah, of course. You are ‘out’ now, aren’t you Miss Yardley? May I call you Caroline? Do you have sisters?”

“An older sister, ma’am.”

“And is she as pretty as you?”

“Oh, much prettier, ma’am.”

“You are very pretty, Miss Yardley, so your sister must be exceptional!” Nerida exclaimed. Sir Ivor’s sister was a rather plain young woman with a lovely smile, and she obviously had beautiful manners. Caroline blushed, and Helena smiled warmly at Nerida. Sir Ivor unexpectedly joined the conversation. “I think you would find that Caroline is the more prettily behaved of the two sisters. Ariadne bears a marked resemblance to our Erica here,” he said, laughing at his younger sister. Erica indignantly repudiated any suggestions that her behavior was less than exemplary, and everyone ended up laughing.

Under these conditions Helena slowly relaxed. This was not a judgmental family, nor were they interested in character assassination as was so often the case nowadays when groups of people socialized. On the contrary, they were open and sympathetic.

“It has been an eventful day here,” Sir Ivor remarked to his mother. “Caroline has become engaged to marry Helena’s brother, and Robert and myself have received gifts from the Prince of Wales.”

“How wonderful, Miss Yardley!”

Caroline smiled shyly, and Lady Stafford turned back to her son. “What do you mean—‘gifts?’ ”

“Prinny’s usual thank-yous. He certainly has his aides do plenty of research before bestowing estates. Robert’s has yet to be decided, but he presented old Fickling’s land to me.”

“Ah, a prime piece of land. A pity poor old Hugh Fickling was the last of his line. And it is so close to us.”

“Yes. It will be jolly useful not to have to travel too far.” He turned to Helena. “The land we are referring to lies just beyond Nerida’s future home. So I shall see you and George nearly every day, Nerida.”

“Still keeping an eye on me?” Nerida asked cheerfully.

“Hardly. That is George’s job now.”

“And he does it very well too.”

Helena couldn’t help laughing.

“Nerida!” Lady Stafford remonstrated feebly. But Nerida, dreamy-eyed, just smiled at her mother. Helena reflected that between Nerida and Caroline, any unattached young woman was likely to feel quite left out of things.

After dinner everybody traipsed upstairs to meet Robert, and his bedroom became a drawing-room. Robert and Erica settled down to play checkers, watched by the others.

“Come, my dear. Tell me all about your career.” Lady Stafford drew Helena to one side so they could sit in the window embrasure.

Ivor fervently hoped that his dear mother was only discussing governessing, not anything too personal. Since the Prince Regent had called today, he had seen his way clear to finally getting what he most wanted out of life. He had been trying to quench a bubble of anticipation all evening, hoping desperately that what he wanted might soon be his.

When Robert stifled a yawn, Lady Stafford stood. “Come away now. This poor young man is an invalid and needs to rest.” Ignoring Robert’s polite protests, she firmly shepherded the little party out of his room. They repaired downstairs to await the tea tray. Erica was sent to bed protesting that she could easily have beaten Robert had they played but one more game. Neither Nerida nor Lady Stafford stayed long after the tea tray was removed, both saying they had had a tiring day.

Helena prepared to follow them upstairs, but Ivor stopped her.

“Miss Marshfield, may I have a word with you in my study?”

Lady Stafford glanced back from her position at the top of the staircase with her brows raised in surprise. Quickly she swept Caroline and Nerida along in front of her.

Helena followed Ivor to his study, wondering what he wanted. Heavens! What had she done?

Increasing her trepidation, he closed the study door and walked across the room to stand in front of the fire. “Take a seat, Miss Marshfield.”

She chose a seat far away from the fire. Had she offended him in some way? Was it to do with his family? Oh God, please don’t let him invite her to be his mistress. He was not precisely averse to her, she was sure, but nor had he shown any inclination of late to spend time with her. She would have said that he had been avoiding her.

Then common sense asserted itself. With her brother and his mother under his roof, was it likely he would give her a slip on the shoulder? No. of course not. This was about something else.

She flicked a quick glance at him from beneath her lashes. He shrugged his shoulders as if his coat was too tight and looked down at his feet. He seemed to be having difficulty with what he wanted to say. She sighed inwardly. He was more handsome than any man had a right to be, and he was playing havoc with her heart.

Then he dragged his gaze up to meet hers. “Miss Marshfield, I brought you here to…that is to say, you must be aware of my regard for you. It has not in the past been in my power to do as I wish, but now it seems as though the way has been cleared for me to…in short, Miss Marshfield, may I have the honor of your hand in marriage?”

Helena stared at him in confusion. She had not at first understood what he was talking about. Her mind would not clear itself. Then when he had said ‘may I have the honor’ her heart had wanted to bolt from her chest. Just out of reach was the thing she desired most in the whole world, but it was not hers to take. Struggling for composure she embarked on a disjointed, sad little speech of which the words ‘sensible of the great honor you do me’, ‘unfortunately unable to…’ and ‘hope we shall remain friends’ were the only audible words.

****

What the hell? Ivor swallowed hard. His heart sat like a stone in his chest. He had plotted and scrimped and saved to keep his family estates intact, had done the right thing. Of late he had had to deny himself the one thing above all else that he desired. Then today the Prince Regent had taken him to one side and pressed into his hand the deed of the Fickling estate in Norfolk, some fifteen miles distant from Ryewolds, and his heart had leapt, knowing that now he could ask her. He didn’t have to wait any longer. He wasn’t a coxcomb, didn’t necessarily expect her to fall into his lap like a ripe plum, but he didn’t understand why she had so quickly rebuffed him. She had scarcely even looked at him. Lord, he wanted so much just to touch her.

“Helena darling, please…” He moved toward her, but she stood up quickly, spreading her hands in denial. He stopped. “Would you at least give me some idea why you do not wish to be my wife?”

“‘Wish’ does not come into it, sir. I…I—my station in life does not equal yours. It would not be right, and even if that were not a consideration, I suspect that you have offered for me because the real object of your affections is now promised to another.” Heavens, she sounded like one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s romances! But she was so full of anguish she could not think straight.

“What are you talking about?” Disappointment was making him angry.

“Caroline.”

“Caroline is a child! A nice child, but still a child. I have no designs on Caroline, and never had. I need a woman, not a child. I love you, Helena. Surely that must be obvious to you. Your brother suspects it. My housekeeper knows it. Even my young brother who is not renowned for his acuity has dropped heavy hints to me. And now my mother is slyly watching me when she sees me looking at you.”

She shook her head despairingly.

“Dammit, Helena. What must I do to prove it to you?”

“Sir,” she whispered, “if you had a regard for me, because we have been together so much of late, surely you would have mentioned this before? Before Robert and Caroline became engaged?”

“No, Helena. I couldn’t.” He didn’t blame her for feeling skeptical. Curse his father. He assembled his words carefully. He felt as if he were fighting for his life. Now he began to see how she saw things, the reasonableness of her understanding, and he had a sinking feeling that he had made a strategic error in not declaring himself sooner.

“Helena, I could not ask you before. There is a family problem which I had to solve.” She looked up at him wonderingly. “Unfortunately I cannot divulge the details because it involves many other members of my family.”

****

Helena sat up straighter. She felt a slow burn beginning deep inside her. Did he think she was a fool? Was he saying that she was good enough to propose marriage to, but not good enough to entrust with his family’s secrets? Some marriage that would turn out to be!

She couldn’t understand why he had approached her today. She was certain it had something to do with Caroline. Perhaps he felt that as Caroline and Robert were engaged that Helena would need protection in the future? Did he actually feel sorry for her? Something was not right about him delaying his declaration until today of all days.

“I see,” she said in a chilly voice, not seeing anything at all.

“Helena, please, listen to me, you cannot possibly think that—”

“Sir Ivor, I think we had best finish this fruitless discussion.” She had to get out of here before she cried. He was breaking her heart. If only the words he was using were sincere, she would be the happiest woman on earth. He had probably only said he loved her because he thought that was acceptable form when proposing. She would far rather he had proposed an honest marriage of convenience. At least she would know where she stood.

The knots in her stomach pulled tighter. She had had an eventful day. Her brother had accepted a role working for the government; he had also become engaged to be married to her best friend and had advised her to burn that horrendous vowel. Now she had declined an offer of marriage from the one man whose heart she most wished to own. All she needed now was an earth-shattering event such as a tidal wave and her day would be complete. She yearned to burrow under the bedclothes and not emerge for at least a month.

First, however, she had to leave the room in a dignified manner. She stood up, and such was her confusion and distress that she found her legs shook and would not hold her up.

He moved toward her instantly and took her in his arms. “My dear, I cannot believe this has come as a shock to you. You must know how I feel!”

She felt his gaze searching her face and lowered her eyes. She had never in her life been held this close by any man, not even during the scandalous waltz. None of her previous suitors had ever ventured beyond a chaste, brushing kiss on the hand. She felt the warmth of his body protecting hers and without thinking adjusted her curves to his hardness in an attempt to fold even farther into his body. He felt so good! Her face was pressed against the bottom of his cravat, and she felt the slip and slide of his sateen waistcoat. Where her legs pressed against his she felt every sinew and muscle. And every bulge. His clasp strengthened, and he bent his head. With a murmur of surprise, she raised hers and he brushed his lips tentatively against her mouth.

She jerked as if burnt and backed away. “P-Please don’t. I am so sorry…so sorry.” Her mind a seething cauldron of want and sorrow, she hesitated at the study door, knowing she was confusing him with her behavior.

And then the stupid man actually took her at her word! Instead of coming to her and reassuring her of his sincerity; instead of telling her the truth about why he’d hesitated to propose to her before this, he strode to the other side of the room and stood for a moment in the shadows. Then he said nothing further but bowed correctly. In other words, he accepted her decision. It was over.

Stumbling, she left the room and scrambled up the stairs to her bedchamber.

****

Ivor Stafford was left bereft, puzzled, and shattered, wondering how to put back together the pieces of his life. This had not turned out the way he had envisaged at all. He knew there might well be a stumbling block if Helena thought it was not suitable for him to marry a governess. He realized that she thought of herself as no longer eligible to marry anyone of rank or from the landed gentry. But he had assumed that introducing his mother was the way out of that.

However he had no idea how to disabuse her of the strange notion she had taken into her head that she was to be some sort of substitute for Caroline Yardley in his affections. Evidently the life she had led for the past five years must have affected her self-confidence so strongly that she could not even receive an offer of marriage without deeming it to be meant for someone else. She had always given the impression of owning a quiet self-confidence, particularly when dealing with her charges, but that must be an assumed manner, not really how she felt at all. The poor darling must have suffered mightily at the hands of some of the catty tabbies around town when the Marshfield fortunes took a turn for the worst.

But maybe her excuses cloaked another reason altogether and there was some secret he did not understand. Perhaps he could ask Robert. God, what a conundrum.

He paced urgently up and back, up and back. Whether he liked it or not, he would have to tell her about the Stafford family problems. He was a fool not to have explained his background. Instead of alienating her he should have asked for her support. It would be willingly given, he knew. She was hardworking and well used to responsibility. She would be happy to take some of the responsibilities of the running of Ryewolds and Stafford House off his hands. Aside from the fact that he loved her, she was an ideal helpmate. She was talented, lovely…He found himself becoming maudlin.

And look how similar her family’s problems were to his! Surely, she must understand. No, in the morning he would approach her again. One thing was certain, she damned well would marry him, even if he had to solicit the aid of her brother. He leant his arm along the mantelpiece thinking that if the Regent’s generous gift of a small estate in Norfolk caused this much trouble and frustration, he would rather that Prinny kept his gifts to himself.

****

Upstairs, Helena forced herself to share Caroline’s enthusiasm about her future with Robert. “Well of course I think he is a wonderful man, Caroline! He is my brother. An odd creature I should be if I did not agree with you.” and “Yes, was it not fortunate that army headquarters has offered him a position?”

She could not bring herself to dampen Caroline’s unusual verve and spirit, nor could she be jealous of the soft light in Caroline’s eyes when she spoke of Robert. No, the people she loved most in the world were well matched, and she could be easy now that Mr. Yardley had lent his approval.

But when Caroline had left her, she sank her head in her hands, wondering what had possessed her to decline Ivor’s offer. Over a period of time, would not people eventually forget that she had been a governess, although it was interesting that his mother preferred Ryewolds to being in town. Maybe some people had not forgotten her origins. Normally it was the way of the world to forget old scandals provided another scandal did not bring them to light. Usually, a fresh on dit took its place.

And even if Caroline were Ivor’s real love, could she not be satisfied with half a loaf?

No! She was not made like that. If she could not be first in his affections, it was better not to know a life with him. Half a loaf is better than none? No. Never. She knew enough to understand that her dissatisfaction with being a poor second would lead to an arid, unhappy marriage. In the last ten years it had become much more common to enter into marriages born of love, mutual affection, and respect. In the past, many titled families had been forced to accept as their own the illegitimate offspring of their unhappy wives. Gradually, as times changed, people looked for a love match. She knew herself well enough to know that she could never be satisfied with less. Truly, she did not think that Ivor loved Caroline. She believed what he said about seeing Caroline as a child.

But there was definitely something about Caroline and Robert’s announcement that had prompted him to offer for her—she was sure of it. The whole thing was just too coincidental. And if he had offered for her out of pity, seeing her as being alone in the world once Robert moved on with his life, how could she live with that? Lord, who on earth wanted to be married out of pity? With his manners being as polished as they were, how would she ever know if he truly loved her or not? He was experienced in the art of dalliance, and she was not. She didn’t know if that kiss she had pulled away from had affected him as it had her. Lord, she had been positively singed with the heat emanating from them both. Oh yes. She had felt his touch from her hair to the tips of her toes. How could she withstand such an onslaught?

Too bad. She must. That was all there was to it. It was bad for her to be vulnerable to any pressure he might bring to bear. She would steel herself to stand firm. He was not for the likes of her. But God, how she longed to be back in his arms again. For the first time in her life, everything had fallen into place. She had felt safe and cherished. Yes…cherished.

She had better not get used to that idea. It was over before it had begun.

In spite of what Robert thought, what if the owner of that vowel should turn out to be Lord Elverton? She could not visit that disgrace upon Sir Ivor, if it turned out that her father had valued her so lightly that he had lost all sense of decency and sold his daughter.

And this ‘family problem’ Ivor was not prepared to tell her about. Did that not prove she was not first in his affections? His family came first.

No, it was best to finish it.

On that noble resolve, she went to bed and lay miserably awake until dawn.