Chapter 21
Helena stared at Tristan as he entered.
She could do nothing but look at him. He stood frozen in the doorway, still dressed in his riding attire, one hand resting upon the handle as he stared at her. Helena had never seen him look quite so still, as though the sight before him had taken him entirely by surprise.
She had intended to collect herself after reading Elinor's pages, close the box, and carry it down to Tristan's study.
She would give it to him there, when she had found the right words and could explain what she had discovered without allowing her own distress to interfere.
She had not yet felt ready to tell him. The things she had read were too terrible to place before him without first making certain she could compose herself.
But as she looked at her husband, her thoughts returned to what she had to tell him, of Frederick, of Lord Ravenscroft, and of what Elinor knew and feared. Fresh tears spilled from Helena’s eyes at the realization.
She turned her face away, but there was little point in attempting to hide her tears. She heard Tristan’s hurried footsteps as he approached, the door closing behind him. When she turned back, his face was filled with worry, the sincerity of his concern plain to see.
Without saying a word, he closed the distance between them and lifted her face toward his, cupping her cheeks in his large hands as his thumbs brushed away the fresh tears.
“Helena?” he whispered.
She swallowed and closed her eyes, unable to hold his dark gaze. “I have found something in Elinor’s writing box that you need to see.”
“Show me,” he replied gently.
Helena opened her eyes to find him still studying her. She lifted one hand from her face, then led him toward the settee. She lowered herself onto it, and Tristan took the seat beside her as she reached for the unfolded pages.
“I...” She paused and breathed out, trying to collect herself.
“I shall start at the beginning. Weeks ago, I straightened Elinor’s portrait when it was still hanging in this room, and by chance, I found a key behind it.
It was the key to the box on the table.” She glanced at Tristan before continuing.
“I suppose curiosity drew me to it, and once I realized what lay inside, I read only one of the pages before my conscience plagued me.”
“Elinor’s?” Tristan asked.
“Indeed. They were pages written by her. At first, I thought they were merely the ramblings of a sick woman, and I felt I could not invade her privacy by reading them. But there was a thread of fear and suspicion in them, and I felt compelled to read more, if only to understand what had troubled her so deeply.”
She took Tristan’s hand and turned toward him. “This will not be easy for you to hear, but I cannot keep it from you. I am sorry for having read them instead of giving them to you when I discovered them, but I did not wish to open old wounds without sufficient reason.”
Tristan’s expression remained serious. He nodded. “What did she write?”
Helena hesitated. “I think perhaps you ought to read them yourself. But I will warn you that they make for distressing reading, and they concern Lord Ravenscroft and your brother.” She offered him the pages in their proper order.
Tristan did not reply. His mouth had drawn into a hard line as he took the pages from her, and he began to read.
Helena watched his expression, occasionally glancing down at the page to see where he had reached before returning her attention to his face.
She watched each change in his countenance as he read, waiting for him to reach the words that would tell him what she had discovered about his brother’s death.
When he reached the final page and read Elinor’s last words, his hands rose to his face. He lowered his head, running his fingers through his hair before letting his hands fall as he stared at the floor.
Helena lowered her own gaze and folded her hands in her lap.
She did not know whether she ought to reach for him or give him the time to comprehend what he had just read.
But she could not bring herself to intrude upon his grief, from reading what Elinor had recorded in her own hand in the days before her death.
“She knew,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Tristan,” Helena breathed, “I am so sorry.”
Tristan straightened and leaned back against the settee, staring blankly ahead, clearly filled with grief and shock. “I am at a loss for words,” he said.
“There is more,” Helena said quietly. “I received a letter, well, a note, encouraging me to find Elinor’s box and read her letters. I do not know who sent it, but it seems someone else knows.”
Tristan turned to her immediately. “Where is this note?”
“In my chambers,” Helena replied. “Shall I fetch it?”
“Yes, and I have notes of my own for you to see,” Tristan said. “Let us continue this discussion in the study. I have something to tell you as well.”
Helena was surprised by his words but agreed. She rose from the settee as Tristan did, and walked toward the door. He followed her with Elinor’s pages still in his hand.
Helena quickly went to her chamber and retrieved the note before returning to find Tristan waiting for her. Together, they made their way to the study. Once the door closed behind them, Helena lowered herself into the armchair opposite his desk and waited as Tristan took his own seat.
“Shall we exchange the notes?” Tristan asked, holding two papers of his own in his hand.
Helena handed hers to him before taking the papers he offered.
She read the two pages carefully and soon realized they had been written in the same hand as the note she had received.
The first concerned her and instructed Tristan to ask her about the letters.
The second concerned Elinor and her nurse, Mrs. Fenwick.
Helena looked up at Tristan with a frown. “When did you receive these?”
“The one concerning you and the letters, I received on our wedding day,” Tristan answered. “The other came not long afterward.”
“Why did you not tell me?” Helena asked, her frown deepening.
“I was not certain what to make of the first,” Tristan explained.
“I presumed it alluded to the letter you had found in Lord Ravenscroft’s study, and I suspected he was attempting to cause trouble between us.
I initially thought he was behind the note, until I received the second.
Then...” Tristan lifted his shoulders slightly.
“I was not certain what to make of it, and I was reluctant to revisit the circumstances surrounding Elinor’s death. ”
Helena leaned back in the armchair and shook her head. She was not entirely pleased that he had kept the notes from her, and from the expression upon Tristan’s face, she suspected he felt much the same about her own silence.
He confirmed it a moment later. “How am I to protect you as my wife if I do not know you are receiving anonymous notes?” Tristan asked.
Helena opened her mouth, already forming her retort, when a laugh escaped her.
Tristan regarded her with a baffled expression. “I do not understand how any of this is amusing.”
“Is it not?” Helena asked, a bewildered smile upon her face. “We have both kept notes from one another, written by the same sender, and we are each upset with the other for doing precisely the same thing.”
Tristan raised his eyebrows before giving a slow nod. “Indeed... that is exactly it.” He let out a long breath and a grim chuckle escaped him. “What a pair we are.” His smile faded, and he looked down at the notes in his hand before placing them upon the desk. “Perhaps we ought to learn from this.”
Helena glanced at him. “I believe we ought.”
He held her gaze. “We shall no longer keep things from one another.”
Helena considered him for a moment before nodding. “No more secrets.”
“Whatever it concerns,” Tristan added. “Even if we believe it is for the other's protection.”
Helena's expression softened. “Agreed.”
“Then we have a promise?” he asked.
“A promise.” Helena responded.
“Then I shall begin,” Tristan said. “There is something else you need to know.”
He explained what Nathaniel had discovered about Lord Ravenscroft, including the evidence he had uncovered of his involvement in smuggling and other illegal financial dealings.
He also told her that Nathaniel had spoken with his friend, a Bow Street magistrate, who had agreed to investigate Lord Ravenscroft discreetly.
Helena listened carefully, her thoughts returning to Elinor’s writings. “It is exactly what she wrote.”
Tristan nodded. “I thought the same.”
“Frederick had discovered what Lord Ravenscroft was doing,” Helena continued. “And that was why he confronted him.”
“Yes,” Tristan replied. His gaze fell upon Elinor’s pages once more. “Which gives us considerably more reason to believe Frederick's death was not an accident.”
Helena looked at her husband. “And Elinor believed the same.”
Tristan was silent for a few seconds, then nodded. “She did.”
“There is something else,” Helena said. “Near the end, Elinor referred to Mrs. Fenwick as the angel of death. I cannot help but think there must be some significance to it, particularly now that you have received a note directing you to find her. Perhaps we should seek her out.”
“I agree,” Tristan replied. “I have already asked the butler to locate her. Once we know where she is, we shall arrange to meet with her.”
Helena nodded. “Then perhaps she can tell us what happened to Elinor.”
“And perhaps,” Tristan added, glancing toward the pages upon his desk, “she may know something about Frederick as well.” He paused, “And then there is Georgiana and her involvement with Lord Ravenscroft.”
“Georgiana has been rather subdued since having tea with Charlotte,” Helena replied. “I believe our conversation gave her cause for thought. She may already be beginning to question what she has believed about him.”
Tristan nodded. “Even so, now that we know what we do, I think we ought to speak with her.”