Chapter 11
HELENA
“Indeed,” the young man sitting across from her said with a smile. “It must be so difficult for a young woman such as yourself to be in such a position.”
“I suppose,” she said. “One does not expect to be widowed before one is even five and twenty. Such is life. One must manage.”
“One must,” the man — one Jonathan Pierce — said with a smile. “Surely you must rely upon a brother or an uncle to assist you?”
“No,” she said. “I have no family to speak of. I have managed myself.”
She took a sip of her peppermint tea and regarded him.
Jonathan Pierce was a pleasant man. Pleasant in every possible way.
He had good table manners, he spoke in a respectful tone, and his appearance was pleasant too.
He was not what she would call exceedingly handsome — not in the way that Gideon was striking and drew attention whenever he entered a room.
But Jonathan had the sort of agreeable face that put one at ease.
His lips were narrow and disappeared almost when he smiled, but he had good teeth, which spoke better of his hygiene than some of her other callers had.
His eyes were a warm hazel that had sparkled at the beginning of their conversation, though she had noticed a dimming in them she could not quite account for.
He was a few years older than her, but not by a margin that was in any way alarming.
He had asked after Lavinia, which she had to admit placed him firmly at the top of the list. He was the first gentleman she had actually thought promising.
“Your house in Bloomsbury — who helped you obtain it?”
“I obtained it myself,” she said. “I came to London, met with the owner, and negotiated a price. I paid in advance. Then I arranged for everything to be moved from the Vale estate. It was not all that difficult.”
“Right,” he said. His right index finger drummed against the porcelain teacup, sending an occasional clang into the air whenever his nail caught the rim.
“On your own. Impressive. And you manage the household staff?”
“Well, the household staff consists of myself and my housekeeper. But I manage the house.”
“Only one,” he said. “Goodness, that must be so difficult. Your housekeeper must be exhausted — so many duties to tend to with just one person. The cooking, the cleaning, the laying of the fires.”
Helena waved a hand. “Oh no, she does not do all of that. I would never impose on her in such a way. We share the duties. I cook, and I know how to lay a fire. It is not difficult at all. I would be glad to show you.”
His Adam’s apple moved, and she felt the air change. Why? What had she done? Or had she done anything?
“That is impressive indeed,” he said, and drained his teacup in one large swallow. “I must say, I have never laid a fire myself. But it is certainly a useful skill to have — should all of one’s household staff fall ill at once.”
“It is. It is always good to be self-sufficient. My father taught me that.”
“Indeed. He sounds as though he was an unusual sort of man.”
“Perhaps it was because he wished for a boy. He also taught me how to fish.”
“Fish?” he said. “I have never been near the water.”
“Is that so? Not even an afternoon on the river?” She thought of Gideon’s tale and how he had attempted to make his one and only sea voyage sound like a journey worthy of legend.
She glanced past Jonathan to where Gideon was sitting in the far corner of the tea shop.
This was their second visit to this particular establishment, and this time she was genuinely enjoying herself.
They had arranged a rather more refined exit strategy than their last attempt, but she did not think she was going to need it.
Their meeting, it appeared, was almost at a natural end.
Jonathan shifted in his seat and rose. “Well, Lady Vale, it was lovely to meet you today. But I must go — I have another appointment to keep.”
“Of course,” she said, and rose. She performed her most impressive curtsy.
Technically she outranked him, being a lady to his mere baronetcy.
She curtsied nonetheless, thinking it might impress him.
He turned and walked out. Gideon, who had been keeping a discreet eye on proceedings, rose immediately and followed him.
There would be a period of debriefing and, she hoped, the arrangement of another meeting. She passed the time by sitting at her table and taking out the book she had lately been enjoying — she liked escaping from the real world into an imaginary one.
She had just turned to a new chapter when Gideon returned. She looked up, a smile on her lips, but when she saw his countenance that smile faded.
“Is something the matter?” she asked, as he sat down across from her. He looked as though he had bitten into an apple only to find it rotten at the core.
“He does not wish to meet again.”
Gideon had a bluntness about him at times that had all the grace of a cow walking on an injured hoof.
“What? But I thought we had a perfectly pleasant time.”
“You did,” he said, with a shrug. “He did not.” He placed his hands on the table and tilted his head to one side.
“Helena, I am beginning to suspect that the difficulty we are encountering is not simply a matter of finding the right gentleman. Jonathan Pierce was recommended by your friend Lady Clara.”
She nodded. She knew this well. She had spoken to Clara only a few days ago, lamenting that she had now met five different gentlemen and not one had proved suitable.
The first two had been Gideon’s fault, she maintained.
The next two she had not particularly liked, though she had not particularly disliked them either.
Of course she had not liked any of them as much as she had liked Jonathan Pierce.
Clara had suggested him, thinking he would be ideal. As it turned out, Helena was apparently the problem — though she still had no notion why.
“But we conversed quite agreeably. He appeared to enjoy himself for most of it. There were one or two moments where I thought perhaps he was not entirely comfortable with something I said—”
“And that is precisely the difficulty.” Gideon said. “There were a great many things you said that he did not like.”
She could scarcely believe her ears. She sat back in her chair, allowing her shoulders to droop in a most unladylike fashion.
“What in the world did I say to offend him?”
He shrugged and held out one hand, counting down on his fingers.
“For one, he thought you too formidable. Your ability to manage everything yourself is, in his view, not becoming in a lady. He said you had altogether too much address for a lady in your position.” He raised a second finger.
“He did not find it ladylike that you lay fires and engage in fishing. These are not activities for a young woman of quality.” A third finger.
“You told him you participate in housework. That is not what a man who wishes to raise himself in society looks for in a wife.” A fourth.
“You told him you arranged the letting of your own house without the assistance of any male relation. That is far, far too independent.”
She crossed her arms. “Is there a fifth?”
“No,” he said. “Not that I can recall.”
She leaned forward in her seat. “Number one,” she said, raising her own finger.
“I do not choose to do everything on my own. I am a woman without brothers, uncles, or cousins. My father and my mother are dead, and my husband fell off a roof. If I do not know how to do things for myself, nothing will get done at all. Number two…there is nothing wrong with a lady knowing how to lay a fire. I would pity the fool who does not. Do you know how to lay one?” she asked.
He blinked. The smirk appeared. “I do, as it happens. Your father taught me.”
“Well, there you go then. As for number three. I can scarcely afford to pay Mary as it is. Would he have me pile more duties upon her and take further advantage of her good nature? Perhaps you should chase him down and ask whether he would like to contribute to my household expenses so I may hire more staff. Or I can simply allow the whole house to fall into disrepair. And number four … should I have lived in the poorhouse rather than demonstrate that I am capable of negotiating on my own behalf?” She drew a breath. “And number five.”
“There was no number five.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Number five — gentlemen such as Jonathan Pierce are not the sort I would wish to spend my life with. So there.” She sat back and crossed her arms again. People were looking at them, and she was aware that her voice had risen considerably over the last few minutes.
“Well,” he said. “And there we have it. The problem.”
“The problem?”
“This formidable nature of yours. It is perfectly fine for you to display it with me. But we cannot have you act this way with gentlemen. You must be less forthright. More biddable in your manner, at least until a gentleman has made up his mind about you. How did you ever attract Lord Vale with that attitude?”
She flinched slightly and looked away before answering, the way he’d noticed she often did whenever her late husband came up.
“I did not have this attitude when I courted him. I was rather more biddable. But I found that it did not serve me well. I did not choose these circumstances, Gideon. But I will not sit down in the middle of them and weep.”
“No,” he said. “But I think it would help if we had some lessons.”
“Lessons? What sort of lessons?”
“Conversation lessons. You and I will conduct ourselves as though we are in company. We will have the sort of conversation you had with Mr. Pierce, and I will help you to respond better.”
She wanted to snort at the idea but knew that was hardly ladylike. Instead she shook her head. “Very well. If we absolutely must.”
“We must,” he said. “And we will start this very afternoon at your house. Now, if you are quite finished…” he paused and glanced at the book. “I do not think I know that one.”
She turned it to face him. “It is by Caroline Crenshaw. A Gothic romance about a young woman who awakens in a castle on an island with no recollection of how she came to be there. She attempts to escape, only to encounter a series of most alarming obstacles. The only other occupants are a grouchy old man who lives in the lighthouse, and his son, who appears at rather inconvenient intervals.”
“Interesting,” he said. “But perhaps not the sort of book to be discussing with potential suitors.”
She got up and tucked the book under her arm. “Well, in that case it is just as well that you are not one.”
“Indeed,” he replied, and offered his arm. She took it, and they walked out together. But as they did, she had to admit to herself that at this very moment she was enjoying her time with Gideon rather more than any time she had spent with any of these perplexing gentlemen.