Chapter 8 #5
“For now, I should like to make use of your discernment. I have every confidence in my own judgement where estate business is concerned, but London society remains very much your domain."
A smile touched Helena's lips. "You place a great deal of faith in me."
"I have every reason to," he responded.
She began sorting through the invitations without hesitation, placing each into one of three orderly piles.
When she had finished, she rested her fingertips upon the first. "These we cannot decline.
They are among the principal events of the Season, and Georgiana ought to be seen at them.
An absence would be remarked upon, however tedious some of the evenings may prove. " Her hand moved to the second pile.
"These may be accepted entirely at your discretion. Every host here is respectable, and each gathering will be pleasant enough. Declining one or two would cause no offense." Finally, she touched the last pile.
"These I would refuse. Some are card evenings hosted by ambitious mamas determined to secure husbands for their daughters.
Others attract social climbers or gentlemen whose reputations are better known at their clubs than in respectable drawing rooms." A hint of amusement entered her voice.
"Several promise to be unbearably dull besides, so there is really no harm in declining them.
Georgiana will lose nothing by staying away. "
Tristan looked from the three carefully arranged piles back to Helena. "You accomplished in five minutes what would likely have taken me the better part of an afternoon."
"I have had many years of practice," she replied with a smile.
The two then discussed the dinner planned for that evening, including where Nathaniel ought to be seated.
Once they had settled the matter, Helena took her leave, intending to spend the remainder of the morning with Beatrice and Oliver while Georgiana practiced the piece she had chosen to perform after dinner.
Tristan returned to the letter from his steward, Mr. Harding, and composed his reply, addressing the repairs to several tenant cottages and approving the renewal of two leases.
Once he had finished, he made a note in his diary to write to his solicitor and arrange a meeting the following week concerning one or two estate matters.
As he sanded the letter, another thought occurred to him.
Tristan then had the thought to invite Sir Benedict and Lady Fairchild to Blackmere after the Season.
Sir Benedict would have his shooting, while Helena would enjoy a visit with her parents.
The arrangement seemed agreeable to all concerned, and he resolved to mention it to Sir Benedict when they met next.
A little while later, Tristan entered the sitting room where he usually found his family before tea.
Georgiana was leaning her elbow on the closed pianoforte, a smaller instrument than the one in the drawing room, gazing absent-mindedly through the window.
Beatrice sat reading with a dozing Oliver beside her.
Helena, however, had already left the room.
Beatrice looked up with a wry smile. "She received a letter from Charlotte and has gone to reply. I suspect she is in the sitting room on the nursery floor."
"She seems to have found her own corner of the house to retreat to, then." Tristan smiled as he crossed the room and sat beside Beatrice and Oliver.
"Indeed, I think she is quite at home here.
" Beatrice paused. "Come to think of it, we moved Elinor's portrait from the countess's chambers to that sitting room.
Perhaps you should ask Mrs. Harper to find another place for it.
It would be rather awkward for Helena to make it her retreat with your late wife's portrait looking down upon her. "
Tristan raised his eyebrows. "Most certainly. I shall see to it."
His attention fell upon a leather-bound sketchbook resting on the table. Reaching for it, he glanced toward Beatrice.
"Helena sketched Oliver's wooden horse while he dozed," she explained. "She wished to give him something to keep."
Tristan opened the book and found the drawing. His eyebrows rose in surprise. He remembered the sketches Helena had made as a child and had thought she was talented even then, but somewhere in the years since, that talent had become something finer.
The confident lines and careful shading captured every curve and worn edge of the little toy, while the gentle rendering of Oliver's hands gave the sketch a remarkable sense of life. Glancing toward Oliver, he saw the horse still resting loosely in the boy's hand.
"Ahem." Beatrice's voice finally drew his attention back.
"I'm sorry," Tristan said, looking up. "Were you saying something?"
"I merely said she has remarkable talent and has clearly worked hard to refine it. I was quite amazed watching her."
"I know a great many ladies are accomplished in drawing and painting," Tristan said honestly, lowering his gaze once more to the sketch, "but this seems rather beyond accomplishment."
"I believe she simply sees the world differently, brother," Georgiana said from her place by the instrument.
"Yesterday I remarked that the flowers in the garden looked pretty. She began pointing out all the different colors hidden within each bloom, and afterward I couldn’t look at them without seeing what she had seen. "
She sighed dramatically. "I only hope she does not play the pianoforte as well as she draws, or I shall appear perfectly wretched this evening."
"You would not," Beatrice replied without looking up from her book. "At least, not if you practiced more."
Georgiana sighed again, though that time with considerably more feeling.
Tristan closed the sketchbook with care. He had known Helena all his life, yet he realized much of what he knew belonged to memory rather than the present. Since their childhood, their lives had followed different courses. While he had been occupied with his education, his
responsibilities, and the management of Blackmere, Helena had been growing into a woman he had only just begun to know. He found himself wondering what else there was to discover.
The rest of the afternoon passed over tea, followed by preparations for dinner.
Nathaniel arrived while the family gathered in the drawing room and received a very warm welcome from the party.
Tristan knew that Helena and Nathaniel had conversed with evident enjoyment at the wedding and found himself looking forward to seeing how they would take to one another in the ease of a family evening.
It was after dinner when he overheard Nathaniel remark to Helena, after a burst of laughter, "Heavens, you are remarkably quick-witted!"
"Only when drawn out by incredulous comments! How has Tristan managed you all this time?" Helena laughed.
Nathaniel glanced toward Tristan, who watched them with amusement. "With great tolerance and polite restraint."
Helena laughed again, her smile open and relaxed. There was no trace of the reserve that had so often accompanied their own conversations. Tristan searched his memory for the last time she had laughed so freely in his own company and found himself returning, not to recent weeks, but to childhood.
With a slight frown, he realized how readily she laughed with his sisters and Oliver, and yet not with him. The thought returned that the understanding upon which they had married had begun to shape every conversation they shared.
“Sister, will you play for us?” Georgiana asked, coming to Helena's side.
She turned to Nathaniel. “Tristan has insisted I grace the instrument with my presence this evening, though music is far from my greatest accomplishment. So, if dear Helena proves to be every bit as accomplished as I expect, I beg you will not hold me to the same standard.”
Nathaniel answered her with complete sincerity. “I do not believe you capable of doing anything poorly. Nevertheless, should Helena surpass you, I shall only have the pleasure of enjoying two excellent performances instead.” His smile moved easily across his face.
One of Tristan's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly as he noticed the warmth in his friend's expression. Before he could give it further thought, Helena took her place at the grand pianoforte, drawing the room's attention.
Tristan watched her for a moment before she laid her hands upon the keys. She wore a gown of ivory sarsenet, simply trimmed with satin at the sleeves and neckline, a single strand of pearls resting against her throat.
Nothing about her attire sought attention, yet it seemed only to heighten the grace with which she carried herself. She admired the pianoforte for a moment before looking up at the party with a smile. "If you would indulge me, I shall play one of my favorites."
As Helena arranged the sheet music upon the stand, Tristan crossed the room to her side. "May I?"
She looked up, a little surprised, before nodding her head. "Thank you."
He turned the first page as she began to play.
She possessed an assurance that spoke of years of practice, yet she resisted every opportunity the piece offered for display.
It was only after several moments that Tristan realized the choice was intentional.
He saw her glance briefly at Georgiana and smile, and then he understood.
Helena was playing beautifully, but not so brilliantly as to eclipse her sister-in-law.
As he turned another page, Tristan found his attention drifting from the score more often than he intended.
Standing beside her, he noticed details that would have escaped him from across the room; the sweep of her dark lashes as her eyes followed the music, the slight inclination of her head as the melody unfolded, and the small smile that touched her lips at a familiar passage.