Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Prepare yourself, Helena! I’ve come to duel for the last lemon tart!”
Silas could hear Helena laughing as Amelia thundered up and down the corridor, screaming with joy. It wasn’t very ladylike, but no one was around who would mind. He certainly didn’t.
He could not remember the last time the castle felt so alive. So happy.
He could not believe he had to sit in his office going through the papers on his desk and working while his family enjoyed themselves without him. If it wasn’t the Porter case, he would have abandoned the work and gone to join them.
But time was running out and they had yet to locate the diadem.
Suddenly, things went very quiet in the corridor, and he frowned, listening keenly.
It was a tense kind of silence.
He got to his feet and went to the door, peering out into the corridor curiously.
His eyebrow went up at the sight that met his eyes.
Helena and Amelia were standing side by side, arms linked, as if forming a barricade. The sort one might use to hold back a flood. The person they were blocking stood out of Silas’s sight, so he stepped out of his office and made his way toward them, curiosity prickling at his senses.
“Ladies,” he said, and Amelia whirled around, her eyes wide, perturbed.
Silas’s instincts kicked in instantly. He moved in front of her, his gaze lifting toward the foyer.
And froze.
A woman stood silhouetted by the sunlight pouring through the doorway, the light catching in the folds of her gown, making her appear almost spectral, wreathed in shadow.
She was tall and statuesque, with golden hair pinned in an artful chignon and striking green eyes. Her features were finely sculpted, in the way of women who are well aware of their own beauty.
Silas had seen sketches of her during the Downfield investigation. But the stillness of ink hadn’t done her justice: it hadn’t conveyed the cold, calculating gleam behind that smile.
There was no doubt. This was Regina Porter, Dowager Countess of Downfield.
Helena’s mother.
A mother who looked nothing like her daughter, save perhaps for the curve of her jaw. Where Helena was dark-haired and sharp-eyed, all tension and fire, the Countess was still and serene, a beautiful mask pulled taut over something much more dangerous.
And she was here. Which meant trouble had arrived with her.
They stared at each other, both waiting for the other to speak.
Silas stepped forward and placed his hand gently against her elbow. “Good afternoon,” he said coolly.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” the woman responded, her tone serpentine, hiss-like, as she narrowed her eyes at him, then at her daughter. “Helena. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your husband?”
Helena jerked, as if startled. She made an inarticulate sound in her throat, and he could see the fear in her eyes.
Finally, she cleared her throat. “M-mother. What are you doing here?”
“What a question to ask!” she exclaimed in an affronted-sounding voice, “I had to hear from your uncle that you are married now. Did I not warrant an invitation to the wedding?”
Helena made a choking sound, and Silas turned to her, taking her hand in his. “Shall we take this conversation to the parlor?”
She nodded jerkily and then turned and marched away.
Silas watched her go, before turning back to the Dowager Countess. “If you’d please follow me.”
He turned as well, taking Amelia by the arm, and marched them all to the parlor.
Helena had seated herself in an armchair by the window, as far as possible from the other seats as she could get.
Silas glanced at Lady Downfield, gesturing to the sofa, before reaching down to ring the bell and summon Jeeves.
The butler scuttled into the parlor. He stiffened, sensing the tension of the room.
“Some refreshment, for our visitor,” Silas told him.
Jeeves bowed. “Right away, Your Grace.”
With an internal sigh, Silas sat down opposite Helena’s mother while Amelia took a seat on the chair beside Helena.
“Forgive us, my lady. We were not expecting visitors.” Silas broke the silence once again.
Lady Downfield straightened up, “I am no mere visitor. I am Helena’s mother.”
Silas’s lips twisted with the irony of that statement.
“Oh, so you remember that, then?” Helena asked, surprising him.
Lady Downfield turned to stare at her daughter haughtily. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Where have you been all this time, Mother?”
Lady Downfield frowned. “Just because you’re married now, you cannot speak to me in such a manner.”
Silas sat back with a slight smile, knowing that Helena was quite capable of handling herself.
“In what way, Mother? Honestly? Truthfully? Why have you come here?”
Lady Downfield turned to Silas, her face stormy, “You allow your wife to address people in such a way, Your Grace?” she asked.
Silas cocked an eyebrow. “My wife does not need my permission to speak.”
Lady Downfield opened her mouth to say something, but just then, Jeeves arrived leading three maids laden down with trays of tea, sandwiches and cakes.
Silas nodded his approval as Jeeves poured them all some tea. Once the serving was done, Jeeves and the other servants left the parlor. The room was silent for a while, aside from the tinkling of china and the clinking of cutlery.
“How is Charlie?” Helena asked.
Lady Downfield looked up, eyebrow quirked. “I’m surprised you remembered you had a brother.”
“Excuse me?” Helena said, her voice shaking with outrage.
“You seem to have forgotten all about your fam—”
Helena shot to her feet, her eyes blazing. “How dare you?”
Lady Downfield remained unflappable. “Calm down, Helena. Why must you always be so hysterical?”
Silas put his cup down on the table with a thump. “Lady Downfield,” he growled, “I won’t have you talking to my wife in such a manner.”
Lady Downfield blinked at him in surprise. “I—wha—how dare…?”
“Thank you for your visit, Lady Downfield, but I think you’ve overstayed your welcome,” Silas interrupted her blathering.
His mother-in-law stared at him as if she couldn’t quite believe her ears. He gestured towards the door, indicating that she should get up and use it. Amelia got to her feet as well.
“Goodbye, Lady Downfield,” she said loudly.
Lady Downfield looked from one to the other of them like they’d all lost their minds. Then, she turned to her daughter, a sneer on her face.
“Well, I suppose it’s good you got something out of spreading your legs to this man,” she sneered.
Silas growled.
Helena’s eyes blazed. “Really, Mother? After your blatant affair with Uncle James, you have the nerve to say such a thing to me?”
Silas stepped between them, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s enough. Lady Downfield, leave. Now.”
The Dowager Countess turned on her heel and stormed out in a flurry of skirts, but not before tossing one last remark over her shoulder.
“You should concern yourself less with me, Helena, and more with your brother. Not that you’d know, but he hasn’t left his room in weeks. They bring his meals to the door now.”
Helena froze. Her breath caught. Silas felt her stiffen beneath his hand.
Then, she was moving, rushing forward, but the front door slammed shut before she could speak.
Silas turned to her, gripping her elbow gently. “Are you all right?”
Her face had gone pale. “She’s lying. She has to be.”
He shook his head. “Even if only half of it is true… that’s not how a boy should live.”
Helena swallowed. “I need to get him out of there.”
Silas nodded grimly. “We will.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You won’t have to do it alone.”
Almost a week after her mother’s visit, Helena was getting restless. Silas insisted that they never leave the property because James and his associates had ramped up their activities.
“Benedict’s man says that the apothecary and the woman we saw have left London. You’ll never guess their destination.” James told her.
Helena frowned. “Did they go to Downfield?”
“Good guess, but no. They are holed up at the abbey. Benedict tells me that there are strange nocturnal comings and goings. Things being delivered or sent out from the abbey. Our man followed one of the wagons as they left, and they drove all the way to Dover. Whatever was on the wagon was put on a ship to Marseilles.” He sighed with frustration, “I wish we’d had a chance to look inside the boxes. ”
Helena frowned. “What do you think they’re transporting?”
“Could be weapons, supplies… we do not yet know how many men have been amassed or even where they are. But at least we have a connection between your uncle and the abbey. May they all be hanged for treason.”
“What do you think my uncle is going to do? Does he have any idea that you know all this?”
Silas shrugged. “He has grown increasingly volatile in recent days. My people inside confirmed what your mother told us about him staying in his quarters, but they told me it doesn’t seem like he did that willingly.
Your mother is also rarely seen. The servants say she has taken to her bed with illness.
I think she’s likely afraid of what is to come.
We have just recently received word from London that the next shipment that leaves the abbey should be intercepted.
We will soon know what it is that they’re moving. ”
Helena’s eyes widened with fear and she clutched Silas close. “Will it be you? Will you be the one to intercept the wagon?”
“Unlikely. There are men watching the abbey, and it will be they who will follow the wagon. My job is to stay here and take care of you. It seems you are very crucial to their plans.”
Helena gave him a sidelong glance. “And if I weren’t? Would you still stay here and look after me?”
“Of course I would. At least now, I do not have to disobey orders while I do it.”
Helena nodded but still frowned. “I’m just so worried about Charlie.”
“Charlie is fine. The one in danger is you.”
She expelled an audible breath. “I just want this to be over. I’m so tired of it all.”
“I know. I am too. I cannot wait to catch these treasonous bastards.”
Helena gave him a look. “I cannot wait for my brother to be safe.”