Chapter 8 #2
"At the baron's ball, you mentioned two artists whose work you particularly admired, and I confess I became curious.
William Blake proved rather more difficult, as his work is not easy to come by nor is he widely known.
Turner, however, was another matter. One afternoon, I called at Mr. Turner's gallery at Queen Anne Street West and found his work captivating.
On the morning you accepted my proposal, I returned to the gallery and purchased the drawing.
I hoped it would serve as a gesture of good faith and assure you that I intended to respect you as the friend I have always known.
I have seen too many ladies surrender the very interests that made them who they were simply to become the sort of wives their husbands expected.
I wished you to know that would never form part of our agreement. "
"Well, I am exceedingly grateful for both the painting and the sentiment behind it. Thank you, Tristan," Helena said sincerely. "Now, I fear I must take my leave. I am sure Mary is waiting in my chambers to help me change."
Just then, there came a knock at the door, and a footman entered. Helena excused herself and stepped into the hall as the servant approached Tristan with a letter upon a silver salver.
"This has just arrived, My Lord."
Tristan took the letter and immediately recognized Lord Ravenscroft's seal. Having little desire to discover what the baron had to say, he thanked the footman before slipping the unopened letter into the inner pocket of his coat.
The remainder of the day passed cheerfully as the family took afternoon tea together before gathering again for an early dinner. Despite the festive spirit, everyone was worn out by the day's events and retired early.
Tristan remained in the study, a glass of cognac at his elbow, having just finished writing letters of thanks to those who had sent their congratulations upon his marriage.
Once he had set down his quill, he leaned back in his chair and waited for the ink to dry.
His eyes drifted to the miniature portrait of Elinor that had occupied a place upon his desk for years.
"Well, Elinor, I have married again," he said softly, addressing the portrait. "And I believe you would have liked her. You always liked the sound of her from the stories I told of my childhood."
A faint smile touched his lips as he picked up the miniature, struck once more by the cruelty that she had passed so young.
After placing the portrait in its drawer and closing it gently, he folded and sealed the last of his correspondence. He drained the last of his cognac and on leaving the study, handed the letters to a waiting footman.
The house had fallen still by the time he reached the family rooms. As he passed the chambers prepared for the Countess of Blackmere, he noticed a thin line of light beneath the door. Helena was still awake.
He lifted his hand to knock, then stopped. For the first time in all their years of friendship, he found himself uncertain of what he ought to say to her. Lowering his hand again, he continued to his own chambers, wondering why she remained awake so late.
A letter rested upon the bedside table. Tristan recognized Lord Ravenscroft's seal and realized it was the letter he had placed in his coat. His valet had evidently retrieved it from the pocket and placed it on the desk for him.
Tristan broke it open and unfolded the letter. A small slip of paper fell into his lap. He read the baron's letter first, acknowledging the well wishes it contained, though they rang hollow, before unfolding the smaller note.
It was little more than a warning. Tristan could not determine whether it was written in the baron's own hand, for the script was hurried and unfamiliar. He read it once, then twice more, his concern growing with each reading.
Lord Blackmere,
I fear you are ignorant of what you have married into. Ask your new countess about the letters and pray she is truthful in her answer.
There was no signature.
Tristan dismissed it as one final attempt by the baron to poison his opinion of Helena and placed both the anonymous note and the accompanying letter in the drawer beside his bed.
Yet long after the candles had been extinguished, the words returned to him, and despite every effort to dismiss them, he found himself wondering what they meant.
Chapter 9
The morning after the wedding, Helena woke in a new bed and unfamiliar chambers. She had struggled to fall asleep, her mind too full of the previous day's events, but once sleep claimed her, it had been deep and undisturbed.
Slowly sitting up, she reached for the glass on the bedside table before noticing the fresh jug of water beside it.
Mary had already come and gone. Helena could not remember the last time she had slept so soundly that her maid had drawn back the curtains, refreshed the water, and left the room without waking her.
Pouring fresh water into her glass, Helena took a sip as she wondered what the time was, and whether the Wycliffe family, her new family, were already waiting for her at breakfast. She straightened, disliking the thought of being late on her first morning as a wife, just as a soft tap sounded at the door.
"Good morning, Lady Blackmere." Mary greeted her with a warm smile, her eyes dancing with pride.
Helena looked up at her, the words taking a heartbeat to register before a laugh escaped her. "Oh, Mary, your timing could not be more perfect." She smiled. "Heavens, I am a countess! Tell me, is the countess late for breakfast? Is everyone waiting?"
Mary crossed to the wardrobe and withdrew a blush morning dress.
"Not at all, My Lady. You slept less than half an hour longer than usual, and no one has gone into the breakfast room yet.
" She glanced over her shoulder with an amused smile.
"I know you well enough to know you would not wish to keep anyone waiting.
Had you slept any longer than you intended, I should have woken you. "
Helena sighed with relief as she eased back against the pillows. "Thank goodness." She watched Mary for another moment before asking, "Mary, how have the other staff received you?"
"Very well, My Lady. As you know, I already knew several of them from the time your family spent with the Wycliffe’s. I feel quite at home, and my room is lovely."
"I am glad to hear it." Helena smiled. "And I am very glad to have you with me."
Mary's expression softened. "I would not be parted from you, My Lady." She came to a stop beside the bed. "Shall I fetch you a pot of tea before we begin dressing?"
"Please." Helena's gaze drifted to the door on the far side of the room. "Mary, do you know where that door leads?"
"To His Lordship's chambers, My Lady," Mary replied. She bobbed a curtsy before taking her leave.
Helena sat a little straighter, her gaze remaining on the door.
She had noticed it the previous evening, and of course it connected her rooms to Tristan's, as the countess's rooms adjoined the earl's.
Even so, the knowledge that only a single private door stood between them lent the chambers an intimacy she had not yet grown accustomed to.
She stared at the door for another moment before rising from the bed and crossing the room.
A key rested in the lock, a narrow ribbon tied through its bow.
Helena reached for the handle, intending only to discover whether it was locked, but drew her hand back almost immediately.
What if Tristan happened to notice the handle turning from the other side?
Instead, she crouched to inspect the lock more closely. The key had been turned, leaving the door securely fastened and her privacy intact.
Straightening, she crossed to the window and looked out over the gardens below.
A smile touched her lips as she shook her head at herself.
She had accepted Tristan's proposal without much hesitation once he had answered her questions, yet it suddenly occurred to her that, beyond the memories they shared from childhood and the very few weeks of their courtship, there remained so much to learn about the man she had married.
Mary returned with the tea, and before long Helena was dressed and ready to face the rest of the household.
"Thank you, Mary," Helena said warmly before leaving the room to allow her maid to carry out the morning's duties.
Helena found Georgiana seated at the breakfast table, reading a letter while sipping her tea.
"Good morning, sister!" Georgiana rose cheerfully. "How wonderful it is to say that!"
"Good morning to you too, sister," Helena returned with a whole-hearted smile.
Before either could continue the conversation, Beatrice hurried into the room, the housekeeper close behind her.
"Have either of you seen him?" she asked breathlessly.
"Not again!" Georgiana exclaimed with a groan. "If he has run off to the park again, I shall not take him to feed the ducks this afternoon!"
Only then did Beatrice notice Helena. She sighed. "Oliver has disappeared again. He has a habit of doing this before breakfast. Usually, he is somewhere in the house, but once or twice he has slipped out through the front door."
"Oh my!" Helena exclaimed. "I'll help look."
Beatrice offered a grateful smile before turning and hurrying away once more, the housekeeper following close behind as she received fresh instructions.
"I think I ought to remain here, in case he wanders in," Georgiana said, sounding more resigned than annoyed. "I do hope he grows out of this phase quickly, for it is becoming quite a nuisance."
Helena stepped out into the corridor, suddenly uncertain where to begin. She caught sight of a servant disappearing down the back staircase, no doubt toward the kitchens and decided instead to make use of the principal staircase.
She climbed to the second floor, where several servants were already searching the family rooms, opening doors and calling Oliver's name.