Chapter 16
“How have you been?” asked Ralph, shutting the chamber door so they could talk freely. They had entered a small sitting room with a wardrobe, a sofa, a mirror, and a dressing table. Beyond that was a door that led into the bedroom proper.
“Well enough,” Helena replied in a quiet voice. “How was your trip?”
“Well enough,” he replied with a grin, ignoring his grumbling stomach in favor of conversing with his wife. “Your brother sends his love.”
“Oh, you saw Geoffrey!” Her voice filled with wistful excitement. “Has his wound healed?”
“It appears so. He did not strip down to his shirt sleeves, but I noticed no sign of pain or injury in his movements. The details of the wedding are keeping him busier than he wishes.”
“I’m sure it will be a lovely wedding. Geoffrey is very good at organizing things.” Helena paused. “You remind me of him.”
“I take that as a compliment.” Ralph moved toward the sofa.
“Now, sit down, my dear, and tell me how you’ve been occupying yourself.
” He hoped it had not been with that black-browed tutor who was leaning far too close to her in the music room, but he forced himself to put that thought aside as unworthy.
Helena sat. Reluctantly, it seemed. “Lady Compton has been teaching me how to run a household. And we have found a cook who, I think, will serve us well.”
“Brava! How glad I am to hear it. Have you spent much time with Gerald?”
Her face reddened. “An hour or two here and there. He is a funny lad, and he is constantly complaining about his studies.”
Ralph noticed that she said nothing about Mr. Whitmore, the tutor, although surely, she must have spent time in his presence if she was entertaining Gerald. “Nothing unusual there. I cannot think of many lads his age who love doing sums and conjugating verbs.”
“I daresay you liked it?” Her blue eyes peered at him from beneath her eyelashes.
“I did apply myself more diligently than most—it was the least I could do to make myself useful to my father and his family. He did not have to educate me, and of that, I was always keenly aware.” It was the first time Ralph had alluded to his own illegitimacy in his wife’s presence.
He considered her carefully—she did not seem revolted by the idea.
But then, she would have had time by now to accustom herself to the idea that he had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.
“I do not think Will liked his studies.” She seemed determined to make an effort to continue the conversation.
“You are right on that count. Will was very happy whenever he could escape from his tutors, and he could kick up a lark with the best of them at school.”
“I suppose you often rescued him from the consequences of those larks.”
It was almost as if she knew the very reason for his errand to London. And yet, she could not possibly know what had been in the letter from Libby Clifford, for he had brought it with him on his person all the miles to London and back.
“I—yes, I suppose I did. I knew the sort of trouble a young man could get into, and I knew my father could be a hard man. Perhaps I ought to have let Will endure his lectures more often, but it seemed easier to petition the beadle or pay off the officer of the watch myself. One didn’t want to worry Lady Aldine or let my father work himself up into a fit of apoplexy.
” Ralph put a hand on the arm of the sofa and pushed himself up to his feet.
He hoped the Comptons’ cook would have something in the larder for a late dinner.
His sudden movement seemed to startle Helena. “How were the roads?” she asked, a tinge of panic in her voice.
“Unexceptionable,” said Ralph, forcing himself to choose patience. He could feel his stomach starting to verge on audible complaints.
Helena began to babble about how surprised she had been at the change in quality of roads in the north of England until Ralph, realizing the source of her discomfort, reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.
“You needn’t worry, Helena. I fully intend to sleep on this sofa in your sitting room and let you have the bed.”
She blinked and breathed out a sigh of pent-up tension.
“But first, I need to slip down to the kitchen for some sustenance.” He smiled at her apologetically. “I was so eager to return that I did not stop for dinner on the road.”
“Oh, Ralph! I’m so sorry that I didn’t think to ask Lady Compton for—”
He held up a finger to her lips. “Hush. I’m quite capable of acting the Viking marauder and raiding the kitchen.” He gave her a kind smile. “Why don’t you take care of your toilette while I pillage the pantry? I’ll try not to wake you when I come back upstairs.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “Very well. Thank you. Good night.” She rose from the couch and hurried toward the archway that led from the sitting room into the bedroom.
Ralph had almost exited into the corridor when he saw that she had turned around at the archway and was watching him.
“I’m glad you’re back, Ralph.”
“As am I,” said Ralph, regarding her with a look of deep affection, and leaving the room far hungrier than he had been a moment ago.
Mrs. Mabley proved to be just as good a cook as Helena had hoped.
Her roast beef was juicy and full of flavor, her sauced vegetables still savored of the garden, and her baked buns were soft and light and plentiful.
Helena could see that Ralph enjoyed his dinners as much as she did, and she was inordinately pleased each time he complimented her on the menu.
In the absence of a lady’s maid, Helena learned to dress her own hair, and after a few lopsided coiffeurs managed to recreate a reasonable semblance of her normal curls.
If a few more tendrils escaped than normal, Ralph did not seem to object.
Polly did her best with Helena’s laundry and lacing, and Helena reflected that perhaps Finch had been more superfluous than she had realized.
Four weeks after Ralph’s return, a large wagon approached the guest house, loaded heavily and covered with several ells of oilcloth.
“What on earth could that be?” murmured Helena, her nose as close as it could be to the glass window in the parlor without actually touching it.
Ralph, who must have seen the wagon from his upstairs study, came down the stairs with a rat-tat-tat of hurrying feet.
“What is it?” asked Helena, seeing the knowing grin on his face.
But her husband kept his own counsel and seemed to take delight in the mystery. “Wait and see.”
Two men climbed down from the wagon and began to unfasten the oilcloth. Within moments the ungainly bundled shape in the bed of the wagon had transformed into a sleek musical instrument as familiar to Helena as her own fingers. “My pianoforte! How thoughtful of Geoffrey to send it.”
Ralph gave a small smile and left the parlor to direct the men how to go on.
The door was just wide enough to fit the pianoforte inside without mishap.
Turning it in the hallway to enter the parlor door was more of a challenge, but they succeeded without putting any dents in the wainscoting.
Ralph slipped back into the parlor, narrowly avoiding being pinned to the doorframe, and slid the emerald sofa a few feet to the side, leaving a corner open for the magnificent instrument.
As soon as the men set down the pianoforte, Helena advanced to test the keys. The notes still played with a pleasant sonorous sound, although she had a suspicion that if she really put them through their paces, they might be somewhat out of tune.
“We must get you a bench for it,” said Ralph approvingly.
“Pardon, guv’nor, but there’s a bench in the wagon too,” said the bigger of the two men.
“An’ a box of papers.”
They both went back outside to fetch the remaining items.
“I wonder if that means Geoffrey sent my music along too!” Helena clasped her hands as she looked at the pianoforte, eyes shining. “I hope you do not mind that it takes up so much of the parlor.”
“Not at all. It is the best possible use for a parlor. Now we can have music in our own home instead of being forced to walk to Carham Hall.”
The men were at the parlor door again. Ralph motioned for them to set down the box of sheet music on a little table. Taking the bench himself, he placed it carefully in front of the pianoforte.
It was at a perfect distance for Helena to seat herself.
Gratefully, she sank onto the familiar cushioned upholstery.
Ralph stayed at her side as she laid her hands on the keys, but she felt none of the anxiety that Mr. Whitmore’s proximity awakened.
She looked up at him with a smile wholly unfeigned.
His fingertips edged toward her shoulder, and she tilted her neck in anticipation of his touch.
The two men standing in the doorway began to shuffle their feet.
“Ah, forgive me,” said Ralph, abandoning her with visible reluctance. “How much do I owe you, good sirs, for this delivery?”
“Ten pounds,” said the larger man, touching his forelock deferentially.
Ralph motioned the porters out into the entryway.
Helena heard him climb the stairs up to his study and then descend again, presumably with the needed funds.
Then the men were back at their wagon, rolling down the lane and leaving the view from the parlor window unobstructed once more.
Ralph returned to the parlor and began to rifle through the box of music.
He extracted three pieces, all of them music with words and handed them to Helena.
Then he took his seat on the sofa. Did he intend for her to sing as well as play?
Helena could not remember the last time she had opened her lips with a song.
She chose one of them, an Irish air, and set it against the tray that held the music. She could not sing, not with Ralph present in the room, but perhaps if he went out tomorrow to visit Sir Anthony, she would attempt it and see if her voice still held any sweetness.