Chapter 17
Helena closed the door to her sitting room softly before turning to face the box resting upon the shelf of the bookcase. Since receiving the anonymous note after reading another of Elinor's writings, she had been unable to bring herself to open it again.
Tristan had only just begun to bridge the distance that had come between them, and there was a selfish part of her that wished to ignore whatever Elinor had left behind, along with whatever the anonymous writer expected her to discover.
For once, she wanted to think only of what was beginning to grow between herself and her husband.
Her thoughts drifted to the afternoon tea she had just shared with the family.
Tristan, who had become noticeably more attentive, had barely spoken.
Though always courteous, he had seemed distracted, his thoughts fixed upon matters he had chosen not to share.
Georgiana's reserve toward her had done little to ease the atmosphere, it was only Beatrice and Oliver that made the tea endurable.
Helena crossed to the window and looked out over the garden, where the first dark clouds had begun to gather above the London rooftops. "I know the business with Lord Ravenscroft and Georgiana must trouble him," she murmured to herself, "but why must he be so impossible to understand?"
Her gaze drifted back to the box. It remained where she had left it, waiting.
With a sigh, Helena resigned herself to the fact that she could not continue to ignore it.
Elinor's writings had haunted her thoughts ever since she had first opened the box, and she could not dismiss the anonymous note urging her to continue.
Whatever truth lay hidden within those pages, she needed to know it.
She unlocked the box and took her seat in the armchair with it resting across her lap. Removing the two folded sheets she had already read, she reached for the third. After drawing a deep breath, bracing herself for its contents, she unfolded it.
Elinor's handwriting was markedly less controlled than before, the lines uneven and wandering across the page. Her thoughts seemed scattered, interrupted by fever and exhaustion.
She wrote of the illness that had confined her to bed, of feeling worse after taking medicine prepared by someone named Mrs. Fenwick, and of believing there would be no end to her suffering.
Frederick's name appeared more than once.
Even amid her delirium, her concern for him remained evident, though she offered no explanation of the circumstances that troubled her.
It was difficult to read the final thoughts of a woman who knew death was drawing near.
Helena folded the pages quickly and returned them to the box before closing the lid with more haste than she intended.
She locked it and carried it back to the bookshelf.
Whatever answers remained concealed within, she did not think herself in the right frame of mind to discover them that afternoon.
A knock sounded at the door. Before she could answer, Tristan stepped inside.
"Forgive me for disturbing you." His eyes searched her expression. "Is something the matter?"
"Oh." Helena turned toward him, surprised enough that she almost laughed at herself. Instead, the breath she released carried away any hope of pretending otherwise. "I am merely feeling rather out of sorts."
"Because of Georgiana?" Tristan asked as he crossed the room.
"Yes..." She hesitated before meeting his eyes. "And because of you."
A flicker of surprise crossed his face. Without speaking, he drew one of the armchairs closer and waited until Helena had taken her seat before sitting in the one opposite her.
"Tell me."
She lowered her gaze to her hands. "I don’t know what to expect from you.
" A faint smile touched her lips. "It must sound quite foolish, but before Lady Harbury's ball you were always considerate, though reserved.
Then... it seemed whatever stood between us simply vanished.
We spoke as we once did, before we married. "
"And this afternoon I hardly spoke at all." Tristan continued for her.
She looked up. "Yes."
"It is not foolish." His voice was gentle. "I can understand why you would find that confusing." He reached across the space between them and took her hand.
Helena searched his face. There was no reserve in his expression, only sincerity.
"My silence had nothing to do with you," he said.
"Nathaniel returned with me from the club, and while we were together a message was delivered concerning Lord Ravenscroft.
It contained information troubling enough that, rather than join us for tea, Nathaniel has gone to determine whether there is any truth in it. "
"What sort of information?" Helena asked with interest.
"It suggests the baron has been involved in illegal dealings to maintain his way of life." Tristan paused. "Despite all appearances, he is very nearly ruined."
"Georgiana..." Helena breathed.
"He requires a wealthy wife, particularly now that he no longer has any prospect of your dowry." Tristan's expression darkened. "Throughout tea I could think of little else but how we might persuade Georgiana to see him for what he is, without driving her further into his confidence."
"I had been thinking that perhaps I ought to speak with her," Helena said. "To tell her that Lord Ravenscroft is not always as he appears. But I fear that, as I am hardly among her favorite people at present, she would not listen."
"I said much the same to Nathaniel earlier," Tristan replied.
"The more I consider it, the more I wonder whether the baron is responsible for Georgiana's behavior toward you.
If he has been quietly turning her against you, then anything you say in opposition to him is likely to be dismissed before she gives it proper consideration. "
Helena looked at Tristan, her eyes widening. "Heavens," she murmured. "I believe you may be right."
Neither spoke for some time, each occupied with thoughts of how best to reach Georgiana.
Helena's gaze drifted to Tristan. His eyes seemed to be fixed upon nothing in particular, his chin resting against one hand while a finger absently tapped at his temple. For a moment, the difficulties surrounding Georgiana slipped from her mind, and she simply watched him.
His dark hair refused every attempt at perfect order; several unruly locks having escaped to fall across his brow as though entirely content to ignore convention.
She found herself wondering what it would feel like to smooth them back into place.
His features, so often composed and thoughtful, had softened in contemplation, and beneath the lowered sweep of his dark lashes there was a gentleness she had come to recognize only recently.
"Yes?" Tristan’s voice startled her from her thoughts. He turned, catching her gaze with an expression touched by amusement. "What are you thinking?"
"Georgiana," Helena answered at once, warmth rising to her cheeks.
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "You were staring."
"I was thinking," she corrected, hastily gathering her thoughts into something resembling a sensible reply.
"Perhaps Charlotte could join us for tea tomorrow.
She would hardly approve of a match between Georgiana and Lord Ravenscroft.
If Georgiana were to hear Charlotte's opinion of him, it might give her cause to reconsider. "
Tristan regarded her with pleasant surprise. "Indeed... I believe it might." His smile brightened. "Although, I suspect that is not all you were thinking."
Helena's blush only deepened. Before she could attempt an answer, Tristan rose. Still holding her hand, he bent to press a gentle kiss upon her knuckles before releasing it.
"We shall speak to Georgiana more frankly once Nathaniel has had an opportunity to investigate.
If the information proves true, evidence may succeed where persuasion alone does not.
" He straightened. "I have some correspondence from my steward that requires my attention, but I shall see you in the drawing room before dinner. "
Helena rose with him. "I think that a sensible plan. Though... do you truly believe she would not listen to you? You are head of the family."
Tristan's expression became thoughtful once more. "I fear Georgiana still thinks of me as her brother before anything else." He gave a faint sigh. "She has become remarkably obstinate of late."
The door closed softly behind him, and Helena returned to her seat.
Only then did she realize he had never acknowledged her comment on the change between them.
He had spoken only of his distraction at tea, deftly guiding the conversation toward Georgiana and Lord Ravenscroft.
Whatever had shifted after Lady Harbury's ball remained untouched, as though he was not willing to address it.
Helena leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment, wondering whether he would ever broach the subject of what lay between them. The thought remained in her mind only briefly before another followed.
What exactly did lie between them? Helena straightened in her chair as her mind returned to the ball.
She remembered the surprise she had felt when Tristan had asked whether she was happy with the arrangement they had made for their marriage.
She had searched carefully for an answer that might reassure him, one that would soothe any concern he harbored that she was unhappy.
She had deliberately told him she could ask for nothing more.
At the time, she had believed it entirely true.
Their marriage, though not one founded on love, was happier than many in society.
He had treated her with kindness and consideration, and, when no one else would have done so, had saved her from the scandal Lord Ravenscroft had created.
How could she possibly ask him for more than that?
She rose and wandered to the window, looking at the dark clouds that had almost entirely swallowed the afternoon sky.