Chapter 38
“Edwina says you will stay here with us for a little while, Dolly,” said Helena softly. “You are from the King’s Theatre?”
“Yes,” said the houseguest dully. “At least, I was.”
“I am Mrs. Aldine,” said Helena, taking a gentle pride in her own surname, the name she shared with Ralph.
“Aldine?” Dolly cocked her head and looked at Helena sharply, from her beautiful face to her pregnant figure. “Are you his wife then? No wonder he had no interest in Haymarket ware. I wish we’d never written to him.”
“We?” asked Helena in confusion.
“It was me and Libby,” said Dolly apologetically, “who sent the letters to get the money.” She sent a sideways look at Helena’s belly.
“Libby knew things about you, you see. Things she threatened to tell if he didn’t bring the money.
But she wasn’t a bad woman—just desperate. For she had a baby to think about too.”
Helena had to swallow once, twice, thrice before answering. “I’m sorry about Libby, and about the baby. It wasn’t right what you did, but she didn’t deserve to have that happen to her.”
“I thought it was your husband that did it, but Mr. Pevensey and Miss Cecil showed me I didn’t understand what I’d heard behind the dressing room door. I suppose that makes sense—Mr. Aldine was kinder than most. You’re lucky to have him.”
Helena gave a wan smile and saw Dolly watching her closely as she placed her own hand on her belly, pressing against a spasm of sudden pain. “Do you have any children of your own, Dolly?”
“One. A boy. But I haven’t seen him in years. They took him away from me since I wasn’t fit to be his mother. Or, at least, that’s what they said.”
Helena felt a sharper spasm of pain, shooting across the whole of her abdomen, matched by the dull ache she felt in her heart for the woman sitting across from her.
“I’m so sorry, Dolly.” To have one’s child taken away would be the ultimate grief.
She wanted to ask about the child’s father, but she knew instinctively that would only bring more sadness.
A knock sounded on the door, and Polly entered with a quick curtsy. “Yer dinner guests are here, ma’am.”
Helena stood up. “I hope you’ll join us for dinner, Dolly. But if you don’t feel up to it, Mrs. Mabley can make you a plate in the kitchen.”
“I’m not presentable,” said Dolly, looking down at her dirt-streaked dress.
“I don’t mind,” said Helena, “and I daresay Lady Compton won’t care once she knows your situation.”
As Helena finished speaking that name, Dolly’s features blanched a fearful shade of white. At that moment Gerald came bounding into the room “Mrs. Aldine,” he proclaimed, “Mr. Whitmore said there were no leopards in England, but I saw one today. At the Tower of London.”
“You did?” said Helena, mimicking the boy’s excitement.
Dolly stared at the boy with stone-struck wonder. Her hand curled into a claw, and she clutched her fist against her heart.
“Yes, which just goes to show how much Mr. Whitmore knows,” said Gerald triumphantly.
“Now, Gerald,” said Lady Compton, sweeping into the room, “you are quite aware he was speaking of indigenous species.” She paused to take off her leather gloves and set down her reticule, but then, upon seeing Dolly, left her right glove hanging by one finger from her hand.
“Dolores Compton,” she said in utter disbelief.
Helena gasped.
“Hello,” said Dolly miserably.
“Sir Anthony,” said Lady Compton, calling out into the entrance hall to forestall her husband from entering the room. “Please take Gerald down to the kitchen so that he may have a little treat before dinner. Yes, run along, Gerald. Hurry now. I’m sure Mrs. Mabley will have something for you.”
The boy skipped out of the room and Helena was left staring between the tawdry actress in the dirty gown and the upstanding matriarch in her dress of blue and coral stripes.
“Well, this is a surprise,” said Lady Compton. “Did you discover that we were in town and decide to waylay us?”
“Lady Compton,” interjected Helena, unsure what her role should be in this unpromising reconciliation. “Dolly was not aware that you were coming here at all. She is an actress at the King’s Theatre. She’s needed for the trial.”
“Good heavens!” Lady Compton was taken aback. “You had nothing to do with the actress who was murdered, did you?”
“She was my best friend in all the world,” said Dolly, her chin jutting out defiantly.
“I did not think you could sink any lower than when we last saw you—but the theater!”
“The opera,” said Dolly. “I have you to thank for all those lessons from the music master.” She looked wistfully out the door of the parlor. “Gerald looks well.”
“He is well. Sir Anthony has adopted him as his heir, and the boy is none the wiser about his parentage.”
“Are you still determined then that I cannot see him?”
“What would be the purpose of that?”
“Because he’s my son!”
“Not any longer. You chose a life of vice over the life of a mother, and if you continue to switch men as quickly as one switches cards in piquet, you’ll come nowhere near my grandson.”
Dolly swallowed, and Helena could tell that her wounded pride wanted to cast an insult in Lady Compton’s face. But she tempered her feelings, no doubt for the sake of Gerald. “I’m older now. I’ve changed my ways. Please, let me see Gerald.”
“No,” said Lady Compton with finality. She cast an apologetic glance at her hostess. “I’m sorry, Helena dear, but I think it’s better if we don’t dine here tonight.” She sent a stern look in Dolly’s direction and then turned on her heel to exit the parlor and collect her menfolk from the kitchen.
“So, what should we do next?” asked Miss Cecil. Her bright blue eyes looked at Pevensey with such trust in his omniscience that he felt a creeping fear that he would disappoint her. Maybe not today, but someday soon.
“We have no way to force a confession from Lord Fremont. But perhaps Anthea Wedgwood and her visit to the jewelry store really is the key to this.” He thought a moment. “Do you still have the pink topaz necklace from the pawn shop?”
“Yes, and I also secured the other pieces of the set from Dolly.”
“Well done,” said Pevensey. “Clearly, the jewels are recognizable to Lady Fremont as she knew they were missing from the safe. What if we were to bring them to her attention again under startling circumstances, the equivalent of ‘seeing a ghost’ for a guilty conscience?”
“In public.”
“Yes, in public, before other members of the ton. After all, if we are to force an outburst from Miss Wedgwood or a confession from Lady Fremont, we must have witnesses.”
“The Marquis de Montesquerrat is having a dinner tomorrow. The Duke of Tilbury and Lady Worlington will be in attendance. He extended the invitation to Helena and me, but of course, Helena could not go out in this condition.
“Could we contrive for Lord and Lady Fremont and Anthea Wedgwood to add to the numbers of this gathering?”
“Only if we take the marquis into our confidence,” said Edwina, “but Helena was able to secure his assistance with only a few tears. I daresay I could wheedle the favor out of him.”
“Who will wear the jewels? You?” said Pevensey, his eyes drawn to Miss Cecil’s lovely collarbone. The pink topaz necklace would fit perfectly there, and the pink topaz tiara would look stunning against her black hair.
“No, no. Not me,” said Miss Cecil, too sensible to be the center of the tableau herself. “I know just the person to provoke the most reaction.”
All the next morning, the Comptons did not call.
Helena, who had been looking forward to visiting Ralph under Sir Anthony’s protection, began to grow more and more restless.
She knocked on Edwina’s door to see if her friend would accompany her to Newgate, but Edwina was already engaged to meet Mr. Pevensey that afternoon.
Her friend murmured something about working to solve the case, but forlorn Helena began to wonder if Edwina’s visit to London had more to do with fraternizing with Mr. Pevensey than it did with helping her friend.
Finally, she turned to Dolly who—wearing a borrowed dress from Nell Mabley—looked far more decent than she had the preceding day. “Will you go with me to Newgate? I need to see my husband.”
Surprisingly, Dolly agreed. Helena wrapped up a piece of plum cake and summoned Auld Donald to ready the carriage.
After enduring a round of his grumbling, they set off in the direction of St. Paul’s, stopping before they reached the great dome at the forbidding exterior of Newgate.
Once they exited the carriage, Dolly took charge, speaking to the rough porter and gaining admittance even more quickly than the marquis had been able to.
As they hurried behind a guard toward the wing of rooms where Ralph was kept, trying to keep pace with the clank of his keys, a burst of pain shot through Helena’s belly.
She moaned, pausing for a moment and leaning against the cold stone.
“Are you all right?” whispered Dolly fiercely.
“Yes,” said Helena. “Just let me catch my breath.”
Annoyed, the guard halted his stride to wait for them.
After a moment of ragged breathing, Helena was ready to walk again.
A few more turns and they reached the room where Ralph was.
The guard opened the door and Helena went inside.
Her husband was sitting in a chair this time, pen in hand as he stared at a small square of paper on the desk.
“Helena!” he said, rising from the chair in sudden delight.
“I don’t know whether to embrace you or scold you.
How did you inveigle the marquis into bringing you here again? What? You!”
He started in shock as Dolly’s head peeked around the corner.
“Hello, love,” she said with an awkward laugh.
“Dolly? What on earth are you doing here? The last time I saw you, you were telling the magistrate that I murdered your friend.”
Dolly shrugged. “I thought it was you, but the investigators changed my mind. In any case, I’ve made up for it by bringing your turtledove to see you.”
While they were speaking, Helena put down the plum cake, grabbed hold of the edge of the table, and gritted her teeth in pain. Ralph sprang into action, supporting her with his arms. “Helena, love! What is wrong?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t felt right all day. I’m used to feeling the baby kick, but this is something different. I thought it was simply worry over you, but ever since the carriage ride to Newgate, it’s been getting worse.”
“Maybe it’s something you ate,” said Ralph.
“Or maybe it’s birthing pains,” interjected Dolly.
“But it’s too early for that,” said Helena. “From what Edwina told me, the baby should not come for another month and a half.”
“Then you’d better lie down and hope the pains stop,” said Dolly. “For babies born before their time quite often do not survive.”
Helena moaned and closed her eyes. She felt Ralph rubbing circles on her back, and she heard his voice speaking as if from a great distance away.
“Listen to me, Helena. Dolly will take you back to the house immediately. When you get there, go to bed and have someone summon a doctor immediately. Helena? Do you understand?”
“I’ll make sure she gets home all right,” said Dolly. “Come along, Mrs. Aldine. Lean on me.”
Ralph took Helena’s arm and draped it over Dolly’s sturdy shoulders. “Guard!” he called at the door, punctuating the word with a harsh cough. “My wife is ill. Please make sure she gets to her carriage without delay.”
The guard snorted as he strode forward. “Another one of those delicate flowers who can’t stand our Newgate air, eh?”
If only it was just the air, thought Helena as another bout of pain coursed through her.
“I’ll help her,” said Dolly, preempting the guard from seizing Helena’s other arm with his rough fingers. “You lead the way, and we’ll follow.”
“Good-bye, Helena,” said Ralph hoarsely, depositing a kiss on her cheek.
“Good-bye,” whispered Helena, clinging to Dolly’s arm like a life preserver. “I’m glad I was able to see you one more time.”
“Merciful heavens, don’t talk like that, Helena,” said Ralph, his eyes filling with tears. “We shall see each other again, I swear to you.”
“Are you coming or not?” said the guard. Helena looked back one last time to see Ralph’s silhouette against the pale light before the heavy door of the cell swung shut.