Chapter 23
Helena awoke to find that she had slept deeply. At least one of their difficulties had been resolved, that is, of Georgiana's attachment to Lord Ravenscroft, and perhaps her mind had finally allowed itself some rest.
Stretching with a yawn, Helena sat up and looked toward the windows. It was a dreary summer morning. Mary had already been in her chamber, leaving a fresh jug of water and drawing back the curtains to reveal a heavily overcast sky and sheets of rain descending upon London.
Slowly, Helena rose from her bed and crossed to the cupboard where her dresses were kept. She opened the doors and yawned again. Mary would be in shortly with a tray of tea, and then the bath would be called for. Helena glanced over her morning gowns, then toward the windows, and shivered.
There was a knock at the door after a moment.
"Come in," Helena called, pulling out her deep blue gown.
Without waiting for Mary to greet her, she continued, "I was thinking of perhaps doing a painting or two for your sister's little one, it would be a nice addition to our package.
Mary, would you pass me my robe? It is rather chilly this morning. "
She held the deep blue gown against herself, then glanced toward her terracotta one, debating which she would prefer.
"I think Tristan rather likes me in blue..." she murmured. "Though his expression is terribly difficult to decipher at times."
"I do like you in blue." His voice came from behind her, and Helena jumped at the sound of it.
Whirling around, still clutching the gown, she stared at him in astonishment. "I… oh dear. I thought you were Mary!"
Tristan smiled and held her robe open for her. Helena placed the dress over the back of the chair and allowed him to help her into it. "My apologies for calling upon you without announcing myself."
She felt him gather her heavy length of chestnut curls from beneath the robe and draw them forward, his fingers brushing the back of her neck. The warmth of his touch sent a small shiver through her.
Helena turned back toward him, her robe properly arranged and leaving her feeling rather less vulnerable, despite her curls tumbling over the front of her shoulders.
"Not at all. We are husband and wife, after all." She smiled, though the warmth that rushed to her cheeks betrayed her.
"Indeed." Tristan's grin was not his usual one.
There was something distinctly devilish about it.
His expression changed quickly, however, and he stepped back.
"I intend to call upon Mrs. Fenwick after our meeting this morning, and as I was passing your chambers, I thought you might like to join me. "
"She has been discovered!" Helena exclaimed. "Most certainly, I would love to accompany you."
"Very well. Though I fear I must warn you, she does not reside in the most fashionable part of town," Tristan said with concern.
"I understand. I should still like to come," Helena confirmed.
"Then we shall depart directly after our meeting." Tristan paused, then added, "And, Helena..."
She looked up at him, finding his dark eyes filled with amusement. "Yes?"
"You could make a sack look becoming. I find all colors seem to suit you." He paused, his smile deepening. "But that blue does seem to make your eyes more silver than gray. I thought I ought to explain, since my expressions are apparently cryptic."
Helena laughed, both abashed by the compliment and amused by his jest. "Indeed!"
There was another knock at the door, and that time Mary entered the room. Her eyes moved briefly between Tristan and Helena, and a knowing smile touched her lips before she made to retreat.
"No, no. I shall take my leave," Tristan said. "I shall see you at breakfast." He gave Helena one last smile before leaving.
All through breakfast, Helena knew she ought to be thinking of Mrs. Fenwick, but instead, her thoughts kept returning to Tristan.
When the time came for them to meet in his study, she found herself almost nervous.
His visit to her chamber that morning had been entirely unexpected, but she could not say she had disliked it.
They spoke first of a dinner they were to hold the following week, with her parents, Charlotte, Nathaniel, and several other acquaintances from the ton. Once that had been decided, they turned their attention to the household accounts.
Helena had come to enjoy their meetings.
She was not expected to take charge of the household while Tristan remained entirely removed from its concerns.
Instead, he wished to know how matters were being managed, just as she had found herself wanting to understand the affairs of the estate.
He was open with her about everything that crossed his desk, never treating such matters as though they were beyond a lady's understanding simply because she was a woman.
She appreciated it more than she had expected. There was something reassuring in knowing that neither of them was expected to manage their separate parts of their marriage entirely alone.
"Shall I call for the carriage?" Tristan asked, closing the ledger before him.
"I believe so. I am ready." Helena rose from her chair, then paused. "But I should like to know more of Mrs. Fenwick before we meet her. And does she know we are coming?"
"She does not." Tristan rose as well. "I worried that if she is indeed the 'angel of death' Elinor suspected her to be, she might not be willing to meet with us." He moved around the desk. "I shall tell you what I know of her in the carriage," Tristan added.
Helena nodded and moved toward the door. Tristan joined her and offered his arm. As she placed her hand upon it, he glanced down at her gown, and a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.
"I do indeed like that color on you," Tristan said.
Helena looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Do you?" she asked, unable to keep the smile from her face. “I couldn’t tell.”
Tristan laughed softly and led her toward the door.
In the carriage, Tristan sat beside Helena, his hat resting between himself and the window. He had chosen the seat closest to her, leaving Helena rather too aware of the warmth of his shoulder beside hers. She fixed her attention upon his words instead.
"Mrs. Fenwick joined us shortly before I left for the hunt I was attending in a neighboring county," Tristan began.
"She gave Mr. Blake a letter of recommendation and explained that she was seeking employment outside London.
Her husband had recently died, and she believed the country would be a better place to raise her child. "
"What was she employed to do?" Helena asked.
"Mr. Blake spoke with Mrs. Harper, who apparently had need of someone to serve as Elinor's lady's maid. Elinor had not been able to bring her own maid from her parents' household. She did not wish to separate the woman from the shopkeeper she was due to marry in the village."
Tristan paused, his gaze turning toward the rain-streaked window. "I had offered to have someone hired for Elinor, but she was content to use one of the maids already on staff. Mrs. Harper had always felt she deserved better, so Mrs. Fenwick was hired."
"When Elinor fell ill, what did the doctor say of her illness?" Helena asked. "And was Mrs. Fenwick put in charge of administering her remedies?"
"The doctor could not determine what was wrong with her.
He feared she had a wasting sickness accompanied by the sweats.
" Tristan's expression changed, and a faint crease appeared between his brows.
"He is a good man. He looked after my father, who suffered from a wasting sickness of his own.
He did everything he could to provide remedies for Elinor, but he was at a loss when nothing seemed to help. "
He paused before continuing. "He did leave Mrs. Fenwick in charge of administering the remedies.
According to her letter of recommendation, she had previously served as a lady's maid to an elderly invalid and had considerable experience caring for the sick.
Apparently, when she was younger, she even accompanied her brother during the Peninsular War.
He was serving in Spain, and she assisted a surgeon there. "
"Goodness!" Helena exclaimed. "It would certainly explain why they trusted her to care for Elinor." She looked at Tristan with a small smile. "You have an excellent memory, too."
"Oh no," Tristan replied with a shake of his head.
"I remembered very little of her. I spoke with Mr. Blake, and he supplied the details I had long forgotten about Mrs. Fenwick's past." He paused, then glanced toward Helena.
"I found it rather more interesting to discover that the letter of recommendation came from none other than Lord Ravenscroft. "
"Surely not!" Helena gasped.
"Indeed." Tristan's expression remained thoughtful.
"I had never thought to read it myself. I trust Mr. Blake and Mrs. Harper when it comes to hiring staff, and at the time I recall Mr. Blake mentioning only that her recommendation had come from a nobleman.
" His gaze returned to Helena. "Although, after this, I shall read every letter of recommendation that accompanies a new hire. "
Helena turned toward the window. The streets had indeed revealed themselves to be part of a less fashionable quarter of London.
The houses stood closer together there, their brick fronts darkened by the rain, with narrow shopfronts opening directly onto the pavement.
Small tradesmen's establishments occupied the ground floors, their signs hanging above doors that opened onto modest dwellings above.
There were no elegant terraces or broad squares, but neither was the neighborhood one of the squalid districts she had heard described.
People hurried along beneath umbrellas and dripping cloaks, while carts and carriages competed for space upon the wet streets.
It was simply a part of London where respectable people lived and worked, far removed from the fashionable world she knew.