Chapter 12
The loud thump of logs dropping woke Helena from the pleasantest of dreams. She was on the ballroom floor, whirling about the room in someone’s arms while her brother Geoffrey nodded his approval.
She looked up at her partner, expecting to see Will’s fair face, but the eyes were darker, older…
and then the heavy thud startled her into a small shriek as she sprung up clutching the bedclothes to her bosom.
“Oh, Polly!” she said, making out the scullery maid in the dim morning light. “You’re back!”
“Aye, Mrs. Aldine,” said the girl. “Th’ rain stopped in th’ middle of the nicht, it did, and mah mam woke me soon as t’were th’ loom o’ morn.”
Helena’s eyes danced over to the fireplace, remembering a far different person blowing on the coals last night. The fine hairs on the back of her neck tingled. “Is Mr. Aldine awake?”
“That he is,” said Polly. “An’ from th’ looks of him, ah don’t think he ever went to sleep. Ah brought the post from yesterday an’ he took it to his study to read.”
Helena sat up in bed and looked about for her dressing gown.
Normally, Finch would have it at the ready, but such amenities were now lacking.
Helena tried not to think bitterly of her faithless maid as she pulled open the wardrobe and found a wrapper to tie around herself.
She had not taken the time to braid her hair last night, and it was still falling down her back—almost to her waist—in tangled curls.
The cherry-colored silk wrapper added an air of respectability and kept her from being completely dishabille, but she was certainly in no state to go down to the parlor.
Nevertheless, she could not master an overwhelming urge to see Ralph. The closeness that had been wrought by the storm and the fire and their proximity in an empty house had not yet dissipated. “He’s in his study, you say?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Summoning her courage, Helena slipped out the door of her bedroom and saw that the door to the study was ajar.
Through it, she could see Ralph at his desk, his own hair a disorderly pile of brown waves.
Like her, he had not yet dressed for the day.
A dark blue banyan cinched his trim waist, a garment much more threadbare and inexpensive than Helena’s silk wrapper.
He held a letter in his right hand, tilted toward the weak morning light coming in from the window.
His eyes darted back and forth across the page.
Helena could see his teeth clench and unclench as he continued to read. The set of his chin was formidable.
Raising a tentative hand, Helena pushed the door open a little more, alerting him to her presence.
“Helena.” Ralph’s voice had a note of displeasure in it—or was she imagining things?
Quickly, he quartered the letter he had been reading and placed it in the drawer of his desk, springing from his chair as a gentleman ought.
“I did not expect you to rise so early. I’ve had a letter.
Some very unexpected news.” His tone was clipped. “I’ll need to go to London.”
“Oh, I see,” said Helena, the discomfort of three days in a poorly sprung carriage still fresh in her mind. “I suppose Polly can help me pack.”
Ralph froze. A line appeared between his brows. “I’m sorry, Helena, but I cannot have you accompany me. It will be faster if I travel alone.”
A feeling of panic started to creep into Helena’s throat. What did he mean? Did he intend to leave her here in the wilds of Northumberland? With no maid? No cook? No companion except Polly? She started to shake uncontrollably.
Ralph sidestepped the desk and hurried to her side. He put out a hand to support her elbow, but Helena pulled away and backed against the casement of the door. She was unarmored, standing there in her silk wrapper and stocking feet, as vulnerable as a lapdog lost in Hyde Park overnight.
Ralph’s voice softened. He held out his hands in appeal. “I will take steps to ensure your comfort in my absence.”
“How?” demanded Helena. She felt tears spring up unbidden. This conference must end without delay, or she would soon be drowning in them.
Ralph pulled a frustrated hand through his hair, and Helena noted, in the strange way that an overwrought mind does, that the elbows of his banyan were quite worn through. She could see the angular tips of his elbows amongst the threads.
“Give me the morning to arrange things.”
She had no option but to acquiesce. Biting her lip, she turned tail to retreat to her bedroom.
From beneath the bedclothes, she heard Ralph’s footsteps go from study to bedroom where he made his toilette.
Then, clad in boots, his feet went down the stairs and out the front door into a morning that was no longer fair.
“You are more than welcome here,” said Lady Compton, giving energetic orders for a maid to take Helena’s bonnet and pelisse and a footman to bring her trunk up the stairs.
“Did Ralph say how long I should be staying?” Helena’s treacherous eyes brimmed with salt water.
It was pleasant to be taken care of, but the ache in her stomach at the thought of Ralph’s departure threatened to overwhelm her.
She needed to sit down. Now. Before the trembling in her knees brought her to the floor.
Lady Compton lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Did he make no mention to you of his plans? There, there—it’s no matter.” She handed Helena a handkerchief and led her over to the sofa where Helena collapsed gratefully into the cushions. “He mentioned two weeks to Sir Anthony.”
The normally forthright lady hesitated momentarily and then sailed ahead like a frigate with a full mainsail. “I presume you two have quarreled?”
“Oh, not at all!” said Helena.
Lady Compton cast her a dubious look.
“Last night, we…well, I thought we were approaching an understanding. But this morning, he said he had a letter from London and must leave right away.”
“And he didn’t tell you what was in the letter?”
“No,” said Helena miserably, twisting the fabric of her skirt beneath her fingers. Should she have demanded that he tell her? Was that what a wife ought to do? She had so little experience with the position and so few examples on which to model her behavior.
“Well, I’m certain all shall be revealed in time,” said Lady Compton.
“We shall not speculate too much upon it but simply make the most of your visit while you’re here.
I’ve begun renovations on the parlor, and you must give me your advice for draperies.
Perhaps you might practice on the pianoforte.
It will be inspiring for Gerald to see what true musicianship is.
And, of course, you must enjoy your meals while you are here.
I hear a rumor that you’ve lost your cook? ”
Helena nodded and relayed the whole sordid tale of Mrs. Jenkins’ departure. Lady Compton commiserated so sympathetically that Helena felt bold enough to tell the story of Finch’s abandonment on the same day.
“You poor dear!” said Lady Compton, ringing the bell for seedcake even though it was nowhere near the hour for tea. “No wonder Mr. Aldine arranged for you to stay with me. Well then, we shall see about finding you some new staff while you are here.”
The maid entered with a tea tray, and at Lady Compton’s urging, Helena indulged in a slice of the cake.
After taking a swallow of tea to wash it down, she discovered that the world was not looking quite so bleak as it had this morning.
It was amazing how proper food and beverage could paint the world with roses.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you teach me what to look for in finding the right kind of staff? ”
“Certainly!” Lady Compton’s eyes lit up.
Helena could see that she had given her hostess a new project that was exactly to her liking.
“We shall find you a competent cook first. But one thing to keep in mind is that a lady should know how to do all the tasks in a house if she is to ensure that they are being done well.” Lady Compton looked at Helena consideringly, as if sizing up her fortitude.
“I think, my dear, that we shall visit my housekeeper while you’re here. ”
By the next morning, Helena discovered that the visit to the housekeeper was no idle threat.
Lady Compton lost no time in acquainting her guest with Mrs. Rutledge before Helena even had time to eat her breakfast. The housekeeper, clad in a black dress of her own, seemed to have already been awake for hours.
Lady Compton explained that her new protégé required instruction on the best practices for keeping house.
“Mrs. Rutledge is a veritable encyclopedia on the subject. She’s been with us for twenty-seven years. ”
“That I have,” said Mrs. Rutledge, with a glimmer of pride. Her cap covered a pile of iron-gray curls almost the same shade as her mistress’ hair. “An’ will you be having a housekeeper, Mrs. Aldine, or performing the role yourself?”
“Our household is very small at present,” said Helena hesitantly.
“But likely to expand,” said Lady Compton.
Helena gave a small smile. No doubt if they returned to London following the birth of Will’s child, they would lease a house in Mayfair that required a score of servants to maintain.
“So, you’ll be managing the maids and kitchen at first,” said Mrs. Rutledge, “but then looking for someone quality to take charge later. That’s the best way of it, I always say, for the lady of the house should know the way she wants it by experience.”
“I thought we might start with the morning assembly,” said Lady Compton.
“Indeed,” said Mrs. Rutledge. “They’re all gathering now in the servants’ hall.”
In a house as big as Carham Hall, there was both a housekeeper and a butler.
Helena watched as Mrs. Rutledge gave the orders for the day to the female half of the domestics.
It was wash day, it seemed, and several of the maids were tasked with bed linens, table linens, and small clothes.
Helena watched with interest as they sorted the garments from baskets and began to treat them with lemon juice and soap.
The roughest linens were laundered in lye, and the smell became so oppressive that Helena was forced to take her stinging eyes elsewhere.
“Let me show you the still room,” said Lady Compton.
The whitewashed room adjoining the kitchen was tidy and neat with bundles of herbs hanging on strings and jars lined up like soldiers along the shelves.
“We’ll mix up a cardamom tonic,” said Lady Compton, “something I often make for Sir Anthony to settle his stomach.”
Under Lady Compton’s direction, Helena selected and crushed the cardamom and mixed it with a cup of water and a splash of spirits.
Lady Compton poured the concoction on a spoon so they could taste it.
“Well done, my dear. Let it steep for a week and then Sir Anthony shall be quite glad of its restorative properties. These tonics are diluted with a good deal of water. They take longer to treat an illness, but they are less dangerous than a tincture. One could make a tonic of laurel water, and it would serve to help an asthmatic lung, but drink a tincture of just the cherry laurel and some spirits, and it is quite likely that you would stop someone’s lungs entirely. ”
“I had thought Mrs. Rutledge would make such things, or your cook.”
“Oh no, the still room is entirely my domain,” said Lady Compton. “Did your mother never make you tonics?”
Helena was quiet.
“Oh, I am sorry, my dear—I had forgotten.” She pulled Helena to her affectionately in a half-embrace and then let her go. “The absence of a mother is a very practical sorrow. Do not be afraid to ask me anything, no matter how small.”
Helena expressed her gratitude for the lessons and the offer of further advice.
If only she’d had someone like Lady Compton in London to advise her how to go on—someone kind and firm and forthright—she would not have fallen into folly.
Geoffrey had been a true brother to her and a commanding voice in their household, but he had no understanding of the finer points of domesticity or, indeed, of the precepts that every young lady ought to know.