Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Begging your pardon, m’lady,” Sally said as she entered the sitting room and waited for her mistress to acknowledge her.
Helena had been going through the report for Grace’s dancing lessons.
Only four more classes and the course should be finished.
The master reported significant improvements in his student.
All that could be improved could be done by constant practice.
She imagined Grace twirling about as a little girl pretending to be accepting dance offers from imaginary partners.
And now here she was, an accomplished student of a master.
More than the skill, Helana was glad for the confidence it would instill in her sister—though admittedly, Grace was the last person who needed more confidence. What enjoyable nights her dancing would bring, what pleasant experiences.
Helena smiled and nodded, very satisfied with the outcome. She made a note to have the last of the dancing master’s fee prepared. Of course, this meant that Grace must start having regular practices if she were to maintain her knowledge of the dances.
That meant she would be requiring a partner. Faith was out of the question; she could not lead at all.
“Perhaps I can do it,” Helena spoke to herself.
It was normally Chastity whom they practiced with, for she could lead, but Chastity was… well, she was unavailable.
A male partner would be ideal, of course, but there were none to be had.
If Matteo could—no, Matteo could not possibly.
She rebuked herself for her woolgathering, but could not help it when her mind went to the times that they had danced together.
He was skilled on the dance floor, and she thought that—
“Ahem,” Sally cleared her throat discreetly. “M’lady?”
“Oh!” Helena turned to find Sally by the door. She smiled apologetically at her lady’s maid. “You must excuse me, Sally, my mind is quite full at the moment. Is there something you wanted?”
“Your mother is calling for you, m’lady,” Sally said. “You are to proceed to her sitting room.”
“Thank you, Sally, I shall be along directly.”
Helena finished her notes. She stood up and smoothed her skirts. She took a deep breath.
Helena had not spoken to her mother since she had lectured her for failing in her duties for Chastity. Not even after Matteo had spoken to her father about Chastity had she summoned Helena again.
As far as she knew, her mother believed as her father did that it was Helena who directed Matteo to marry Chastity instead of her.
Helena smiled bitterly; they had not even asked her how she felt about the turn of events. No, her parents only cared about the results. She should have been used to it by now, but she apparently still held hope that her parents cared for their children, though they did not show it.
She walked the length of the hallway to her mother’s bedchambers and, upon reaching it, knocked on the door. Her mother’s lady’s maid opened the door and asked her to come in.
The Countess of Huntington’s sitting room was both elegant and feminine. The walls were papered in pink and green and were accentuated with gold. Flowers, paintings, and sculptures were placed to enhance the furniture in the room. It reflected her tastes perfectly.
In the middle of the room, her mother sat facing the fireplace, teacup in hand.
“Come and sit down, Helena,” her mother said.
She dismissed her lady’s maid and gestured to her eldest daughter.
“Tea?” she asked.
When Helena nodded, Lady Clarissa poured her a cup.
“How are the preparations for tomorrow?” she asked.
“Everything is in order, Mama. All we need is the bride and the groom, and it shall be a complete event.”
“Very good.”
The countess nodded her approval, then, after a while, frowned.
“This was a very close call, Chastity, but as your father said, we shall overlook it since it did give us the results that we were after.”
“I thank you for your magnanimity,” Helena said.
If Lady Clarissa heard the trace of mockery in her voice, she did not react to it.
“I have asked you to come so we may talk about your future,” Lady Clarissa said. “Now that you are no longer to be married, I assume that you wish to return to your original goals?”
Helena blinked. She had not even gone that far into her future.
She had, for the past week, been set only on surviving each day as it came, and Helena quite forgot about her original plans.
If there was any sign of the degree of turmoil her mind was in, this was it.
She looked out the window for a moment and returned her gaze to her mother.
“Yes, Mama,” she said quietly. “After Faith and Grace are married, I would like to continue my original terms: a house of my own, a carriage, an allowance, and my freedom.”
Her mother nodded.
“It is exactly as your father and I thought. Well then, that is settled. After tomorrow, you must focus your energies on Faith. Next season will be her coming out.”
“Yes, Mama,” Helena said. “Is there anything else that you would like to talk to me about?”
“No, that is it.”
“Then I shall take my leave. Thank you.” Helena started to rise when her mother gestured for her to sit down again.
“One more thing, Helena,” Lady Clarissa continued. “Be sure that, when it is Faith’s turn in society, you do better. This family may not survive another scandal; the blight to our name will be too much.”
Helena could feel something rising within her; temper, courage, she was not sure. But at that very moment, she wanted to answer her mother with the words that were in her heart, with the hurt that she had kept there—all of those years of feeling abandoned and of feeling unloved.
How could her mother know what her daughters were capable of surviving? How could she know what strength lay in each of her daughters? What weaknesses? She hardly knew any of them.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her mother looked at her strangely.
“Is there anything you wish to say, Helena?”
“Yes!” Helena said before she could stop herself.
Her mother merely looked at her, waiting for her to speak
“You and Papa have always provided for us. We have never wanted for anything material, and for that we are grateful. But would it hurt you, Mama, to ask once in a while how your daughters are?”
“What are you talking about, Helena? What nonsense is this? Your father and I know perfectly well everything that needs to be known about our daughters. That is why you are there to inform us, to let us know.”
Yes, you know your daughters’ accomplishments, their skills, what languages they speak, who their suitors are, but that is it!” Helena’s voice was rising but she could not help it, once she spoke, she could not seem to stop.
“I suppose I cannot blame you, in a society such as ours, those are the things that everyone prizes in daughters.”
Her mother put down her teacup.
“You are being nonsensical, Helena.”
“Am I, Mama? Perhaps this is the most that I have ever made sense. Perhaps this is the only time in my life that I have spoken words that are true—words that really matter.”
Helena gestured with her hands, unable to control the movement.
“You treat us like investments, like chattel, and appraise us according to what we can offer a husband. To you, that is a daughter’s only worth. We do not ask for much—we do not even ask for you to love us—we, my sisters and I, already have that, we love each other, and we are happy with that.”
Helena clasped her hands together like a prayer.
“But what I would like is for you to see my sisters, never mind me. I no longer need any of this, but Chastity, Faith, and Grace still do. They are not your investments; they are your daughters.”
Clarissa Ayles sat still, looking at Helena as if she had never seen her before, as if surprised at her.
“I apologize if I have taken too much of your time. I have spoken out of turn. I am sorry, Mama. You will never hear anything about this for me again.”
And without waiting for a reply, Helena strolled out the door, feeling a heaviness lift from her chest. It was too late for her; she had simply grown too old.
But there was still time for her sisters.
She only hoped that her words had an effect, even a small one, on her mother.
But if they did not, which she quite suspected, then she would be there for her sisters as she had always been.
Never mind Helena. She would survive somehow, as she had always done.
Helena closed the door to Chasity’s bed chambers softly. It had taken longer than she expected, but her sister had finally fallen asleep.
She stayed, as she had promised to Chasity.
“You will not leave me, Helena?”
“No, dearest, I shall not.”
“You will stay until I am asleep?”
“Of course, Chastity.”
And so, she had.
The past few days before the wedding flew by.
Every detail of the preparations Helena personally saw to.
The irony of it all was not lost to her, but for every heartache, for every thought of Matteo, she had pushed Chastity to the forefront of her mind.
She was the reason for all of this. She was the reason that Matteo did this, because he valued what, to Helena, was most valuable.
Chastity had become so dependent on her, so needful, that Helena felt she had gone back to the Chastity of their childhood. She could feel the anxiety and the misery in Chastity’s heart, but what could she do?
This is the way; this is what everyone decided on. There is no other recourse; we must see it through.
The house was silent and still. The bustle and activity of the day had melted into rest and slumber, but Helena was far from wanting sleep. Though she had taxed herself physically in all the preparations for the wedding, there was a drive in her to see this through to the end.
Perhaps after all of this, after everything is done, I will feel the weariness of an overworked mind and body and the burden of a broken heart, but for now, I have a purpose and I shall be the last to stop.
It was as if her feet had a mind of their own. In the dark, she traversed the house until she reached the doors that opened into the gardens.
Perhaps it was because the gardens always brought her a certain serenity or perhaps it was because she now associated this place with Matteo.
He had given her a rose there. She and Matteo had spent their last time together there.
Whether that memory was pleasant or painful was of no consequence; the significance of the gardens would stay with her.
The moon cast a bright glow over the trees and the grass. She had underestimated the chill in the air, and without her wrapper, she felt her skin prickle. Hugging herself, Helena walked towards the Pergola.
She moved toward the side where the rosebushes grew thick; she could smell the rose blooms in the air.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, a chapter in her life would close. And she must leave behind the only love she had ever known—would probably ever know.
Helena thought she had run out of tears, but the wetness on her cheeks proved otherwise. She let the tears flow.
She allowed herself tonight, the last night that she could think of him, of what could have been, of what she wished would have been.
“Matteo.”
“I am here, Helena.”
Helena was so startled that she barely stifled a scream as she jumped back. She would have lost her balance but for the hands that supported her.
Shocked that Matteo was there, but more shocked that he had heard her call out to him, Helena tried to move away from his grasp. But his hands stayed her and refused to let her go.
She stopped moving and stared at him.
Was he even real? Or was he perhaps a figment of her imagination conjured by her loneliness?
“Helena,” Matteo said again. The fierceness in his eyes told her that. Indeed, he was really there.
“What are you doing here, Matteo?” Helena asked almost wildly. “You should not be here. I should not be here!”
She looked about in a guilty way as if expecting someone to appear from behind the hedges and catch them.
“I was in a meeting with your father,” Matteo said in a low voice. “He said he would be home late, thus the lateness of the hour. There were papers that needed to be signed, settlements. The boring things.”
On his face was a ghost of a smile.
“You-you should not be here—out here,” Helena stammered.
“You are right, I should not be here. I should not… I should be…”
I should be with you.
He knew he had made a mistake. He was too late. But he was here now, and so is she. What was one more mistake?
His hands tightened around her arms. Pulling her closer to him, Matteo watched her every expression. He watched her eyes darken, he watched as she stopped fighting.
“Helena,” he whispered fiercely.
His lips met hers in a crushing kiss. It was a kiss that was meant to reach her soul, for it came from his own. When her hands clawed up his chest and clutched at his neck, entwined in his hair, Mateo felt as if he had conquered a mountain.
Every feeling he had for her, he poured into the kiss. And her every reaction, every sound she made, was like a benediction.
They only had now, and if that was all, they would have then. Matteo wanted Helena to know everything that was in his heart—even the things that he could not say out loud.
What started as a clash of lips slowed, gentled, until their lips parted from each other. In the darkness of the night, Mateo could see the intensity of her gaze.
He tried to speak, but Helena put a finger to his lips, silencing him. She shook her head and smiled a sad smile.
Understanding, Matteo nodded.
He felt her move away from him, and he loosened his hands on her arms. They glided along her skin until her hands caught in his. Matteo lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them, as he had always been fond of doing. As in his heart, he would always do.
Matteo saw the tears run down Helena’s cheeks, lines of silver in the moonlight; they were nearly his undoing.
She pulled her hands from his and looked at him one last time. Then she turned and ran. Away from him, and away from them.
Matteo pressed his hand against his eyes. He had never known such pain, such longing. Such love. But this was his choice, this he did for her. And he would have to live with that for the rest of his life.
Goodbye, my love.