Chapter 11
Sunday passed with the family attending morning service together, and Helena could not help noticing, with a small amount of amusement, how differently society received her upon Tristan's arm as she was no longer associated with the scandal of her broken engagement to Lord Ravenscroft.
Many stopped to congratulate them in person, and as the family returned to the Wycliffe townhouse, she released a slow breath. At last, it seemed that unhappy chapter truly belonged to the past.
Her parents called upon them soon after and remained for lunch. It was plain that her mother was delighted to find her so warmly welcomed into the Wycliffe household. Helena knew her father missed her, and before her parents departed, they walked together in the garden.
During their stroll, her father mentioned that Tristan had invited both him and Lady Fairchild to visit Blackmere once the Season had concluded, so that the two families might spend time together. The invitation pleased him more than he attempted to conceal, and equally pleased Helena.
***
The following morning, after breakfast and a brief meeting with Tristan in the study, Helena set out to meet Charlotte for the walk they had arranged.
As they entered the park, Helena realized it was the first morning in many weeks that she had ventured out without expecting whispers to follow her.
Marriage had altered remarkably little within the Wycliffe household, yet beyond its walls everything seemed transformed.
The curious glances had vanished, replaced by smiles, bows, and warm inquiries after her happiness.
It was an odd reminder of how swiftly society rewrote its opinions.
"Let us make this a standing arrangement between us," Charlotte declared as they wandered along one of the shaded paths. "A walk each week while we are both in London, during which we discuss absolutely everything."
Helena smiled. "I should like that exceedingly. Much as I have nothing to conceal from the Wycliffes, there is something rather pleasant in being able to speak freely with no one else to overhear."
"Precisely." Charlotte slipped her arm through Helena's with an air of satisfaction. "Now, tell me everything."
"It has truly been lovely," Helena began.
"Of course, I knew them all as children, but it has been wonderful becoming acquainted with them again as adults.
Georgiana is beautiful and vastly entertaining.
I believe she will have any number of eligible gentlemen to choose from before the Season is over.
As for Beatrice, I confess I am astonished by how capable she is.
She is a devoted mother and has shown me nothing but kindness. "
"I am fond of them all, though perhaps Beatrice a little more," Charlotte replied. "I suspect it is only because she is nearer our own age, even if a little older. And Oliver, being an only child, it must be quite a novelty for you to share a household with someone so young."
Helena laughed. "He is full of life." Her smile softened. "He reminds me so very much of Frederick."
"Who?" Charlotte asked.
Helena's steps slowed. "Frederick. He passed away three years ago in a carriage accident, he was Tristan's younger brother."
Charlotte came to a halt. "Good heavens..."
"There was a time when my parents and I felt the only letters we were sending the Wycliffes were those of condolence." Helena's expression grew thoughtful. "Frederick was three years older than Georgiana, two years younger than I, and four years younger than Tristan.”
She drew in a breath and continued. “In 1813, Beatrice's husband died.
They had been married for only two or three years, and Oliver was barely a year old.
Early the following year, Tristan married his late wife.
A few months later, his father succumbed to a prolonged illness, then his mother, then Frederick, and by the end of the year, he lost his wife too.
Tristan and Elinor had not even been married a full year. "
Charlotte looked at her in horrified disbelief. "Helena... no. In the space of two years they endured all of that? It is almost beyond comprehension."
Helena nodded. "They had remained in the North after Lord Blackmere fell ill, so very little reached London society, only a handful of people knew. That is why the family has been absent from society these past three years."
"You need have no concern on my account," Charlotte said as they resumed their walk. "I shall not repeat a word of it. It may not be a secret, but there is no purpose in reopening old sorrows when a family is trying to move forward."
"Indeed." Helena glanced toward the trees ahead. "Perhaps now you understand why Tristan wished for an arrangement that would benefit his family."
"I do." Charlotte smiled sadly. "One would never imagine such sorrow had touched them, judging by the way they conduct themselves. I admire them all the more for it."
"What I find difficult," Helena admitted, "is that Tristan has spoken of Elinor, and their parents are spoken of from time to time.
Beatrice has even told me stories of her late husband...
Yet no one ever speaks of Frederick. Oliver reminds me of him so often, and still I feel I ought not to mention it. "
Charlotte was silent for several moments. "I had a younger sister," she said at last. "She was fifteen when we lost her to the fever, and even now I find it difficult to speak of her."
Helena turned to her. "I had no idea."
Charlotte gave a faint smile. "Very few people do. I can speak of my husband, and I can speak of my parents, but my sister..." She shook her head. "She was simply too young."
"I am so very sorry." Helena drew Charlotte's arm a little closer. "Truly."
"As am I," Charlotte replied softly. After a moment, she smiled with more determination. "Now, let us not begin what is to become our weekly walks by dwelling entirely upon sorrow. One day I shall tell you more about her, I promise. But for now, I want to hear everything about married life."
Helena smiled at Charlotte's resilience.
"You are remarkable, my dear friend. Now, what else have I neglected to tell you?
Ah! Georgiana has become rather intrigued by my broken engagement.
On at least two occasions she has asked why I broke it off with the baron, and the last time she wondered whether, perhaps, I had secretly hoped to form an attachment to Tristan. "
Charlotte laughed. "She is a dear, innocent girl, quite evidently enjoying her first Season." She laughed again. "The young ones are forever imagining romances."
"That was my thought as well," Helena said with a smile.
"And yet you have told me almost everything except about your new husband." Charlotte raised an expectant eyebrow. "Come now, I am waiting."
Helena laughed softly. "He is patient and considerate. We suit one another remarkably well and seem to manage the affairs of the household with very little difficulty. It is, in every respect, a marriage founded upon friendship."
"Has it been an adjustment?" Charlotte asked. "I remember feeling dreadfully self-conscious at first whenever my husband saw me in my nightdress before my maid had dressed my hair."
Helena colored. "Oh... no. We each keep to our own rooms. I see him at breakfast, and after dinner I retire to my chambers while he retires to his. Most days we are occupied with our own responsibilities or spending time with the family."
Charlotte's brows rose ever so slightly as she regarded Helena. "Indeed?"
***
It was later that afternoon when Helena found herself thinking again of her conversation with Charlotte in the park.
Her friend's expression upon hearing that she and Tristan conducted themselves more as amiable partners than an affectionate young couple, remained in her thoughts.
She wondered what Charlotte had expected to hear when she had made it perfectly plain that theirs was simply a marriage of convenience.
She sat in her favorite armchair in the sitting room, her attention drifting to the portrait above the mantel. From the moment she had entered, she had noticed it hung slightly askew, and the sight had distracted her ever since. At last, she rose and crossed the room.
Before straightening it, she paused to study the painting more closely.
The artist had been remarkably gifted. The young lady seemed almost alive upon the canvas; fair-haired, blue-eyed, and elegantly dressed.
Yet it was her expression that drew Helena's attention.
There was something reserved in it, perhaps even a trace of sorrow or trouble, that seemed at odds with the elegance of the portrait.
Helena tilted her head, studying it more carefully, when a gentle knock sounded at the door.
Mrs. Harper stepped inside. "Oh! Forgive me, My Lady, I..." She faltered as she noticed Helena standing before the portrait.
"Is something the matter?" Helena asked, surprised to see the usually cheerful housekeeper looking so flustered.
"Yes, forgive me." Mrs. Harper clasped her hands together. "His Lordship asked me to move the portrait you appear to be admiring, though I shall return later if this is an inconvenient moment. I did not realize you were here." She offered an apologetic smile. "Would you care for some tea?"
"No, thank you. I shall wait and have tea with the family." Helena smiled before looking back at the portrait. "Mrs. Harper... who is the lady in the portrait?"
The housekeeper stepped forward, her expression softening. "That was His Lordship's late wife. The portrait was commissioned shortly before she passed away."
"Oh." Helena turned her eyes once more to the young woman's face, realizing she had been studying Elinor all along.
"When His Lordship learned you were fond of this sitting room," Mrs. Harper continued gently, "he thought it best that the portrait be moved elsewhere."
"Yes, I understand." Helena nodded her head. "Thank you."
Mrs. Harper curtsied before leaving the room.