A Countess by Christmas (7 page)

Her aunt took a seat on one of the sofas dotted about the room, and Helen sat beside her.

‘You have already met Lord Cleobury,’ she said in a low voice, cocking her head towards the gentleman who had sat next to Helen at dinner the night before. ‘And if I am not mistaken that clerical gentleman, the one who gave thanks for our meal last night, is none other than Barnaby Mullen. Another very distant connection of His
Lordship’s. I should not be a bit surprised…’ she lowered her voice still further ‘…if he is not angling for a living. His Lordship has several in his gift.’

Helen took ruthless advantage of the fact that Lord Bridgemere happened to be engaged in an earnest-looking conversation with the young cleric to turn her head and look at him. It almost surprised her to see that he looked the way he always did. What had she expected? That their confrontation this morning, which had left her so shaken, would have made some kind of physical impression on him? He did not even turn his head and look back at her. It was as though he was completely unaware she had entered the room.

He probably was.

At that moment Lady Thrapston walked across her field of vision, severing her tenuous connection to Lord Bridgemere.

There was no need for her aunt to inform her who
this
woman was. She and her aunt watched in silence as Lord Bridgemere’s oldest sister sashayed across the room. Tonight she was wearing emeralds to complement the sumptuous outfit of green satin she was wearing.

Helen frowned. Lord Bridgemere had said they all came to Alvanley Hall at Christmas because they wanted something from him. What could a woman as obviously wealthy as this possibly need?

Then Aunt Bella gripped her hand, and said in a voice quivering with suppressed excitement, ‘And this boy just coming in now is the one I was telling you about. Bridgemere’s heir. The Honourable Nicholas Swaledale.’

Unlike His Lordship, the heir—who was not really a boy at all, although he was certainly not very much
past twenty—was dressed in an extravagantly fashionable style. There were fobs and seals hanging from his cherry-striped satin waistcoat, jewels peeping from his cravat, and he wore his hair teased into a fantastic style with liberal use of pomade. Helen tried very hard not to dislike him just because of the way he looked. For he, she recollected, was the youth who had steered the dinner conversation away from her the night before, after General Forrest had been so rude. ‘And,
oh
,’ Aunt Bella continued wickedly, ‘how annoyed Lady Thrapston is that her younger sister produced him, when all
she
managed to have were girls!’

‘He does not look to me,’ Helen observed, ‘like a very happy young man.’

‘Money troubles,’ Aunt Bella explained darkly. ‘His father is not a wealthy man. But because of the title he expects to inherit once Bridgemere dies, he tends to live well beyond his means.’

An idiot, then, as well as a fop, thought Helen as she watched the youth saunter across the room and take a seat in between two damsels who blushed and simpered at him. One of them Helen recognised as the young lady who had been flirting with Aunt Bella’s dinner partner the night before.

‘I wonder if he is sitting with them on purpose, to annoy his aunt?’ mused Aunt Bella aloud. ‘Oh—I should perhaps explain that those are the two of Lady Thrapston’s daughters not still in the nursery. Octavia and Augustine.’

Even as he acknowledged the adulation of his female cousins, she could still detect a faint sneer hovering
about the heir’s mouth, which unhappily put her very much in mind of his Aunt Thrapston.

‘Which are his parents?’ Helen whispered. ‘Are they here?’

Aunt Bella made a motion with her fan, to indicate a very ordinary-looking middle-aged couple perched on the edge of a pair of spindly-legged chairs. The lady had been sitting beside Lord Bridgemere at dinner the night before. Talking non-stop and irritating him, she saw on a flash of insight. As much as his other sister had managed to irritate him from the foot of the table, with her condescending remarks about the quality of the food.

What a family!

‘You know my brother the General, of course, and his
charming
wife,’ her aunt said sarcastically as the couple strolled into the room arm in arm.

When the General saw them, his brows lowered into a scowl.

‘I wonder why they have come this year?’ her aunt mused. ‘He usually goes to spend Christmas with Ambrose.’

It was a great pity he had not gone to spend
this
Christmas with Ambrose, Aunt Bella’s oldest brother, sighed Helen. His estate was just outside Chester. Which would have put him at the very other end of the country.

‘I can only assume his pockets are to let.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘Oh, come! You know full well that none of us comes here without a very compelling reason. Had I no need, even
I
would have given my cousin’s nephew a wide
berth. Indeed, I do not think I have seen him for over fifteen years.’

Helen shifted in her seat. ‘It sounds a very odd way of conducting family relations…’

But it helped to explain Lord Bridgemere’s conviction that she had come cap in hand, like everyone else. And when she had been so insistent upon speaking to him in private, to put her case, it could only have reinforced that impression.

She wished she had not been so quick to take offence. For suddenly she could see exactly why it had been so hard to convince him that she, personally, wanted nothing from him for herself.

‘Perhaps I am being a little harsh in regards to his sisters,’ Aunt Bella murmured. ‘Not that it is fondness for their brother that brings
them
here, either. It is just that neither of them can bear the thought that the other might somehow steal a march if they are not here to keep an eye on their dealings with Bridgemere.’

How awful! Did nobody ever come to see him merely because they liked him?

Although her aunt had said he actively discouraged visitors by being purposefully elusive. She could not help allowing her eyes to stray in his direction, her heart going out to a man she now saw as an island in the midst of a sea of greedy, grasping relatives. She wondered which had come first. His reclusive habits, or his family’s attitude towards him as nothing more than an ever-open purse?

She was startled out of her reverie by the General who, after standing stock still, glaring at them for a
few seconds, marched right up to them and demanded, ‘I want to know why you have come here, Bella.’

‘I do not think that is any of your business,’ Aunt Bella retorted.

‘Still as argumentative as ever,’ he growled. ‘And just as prone to stirring up a hornets’ nest with your effrontery!’

‘I have no idea what you mean,’ she replied coldly.

‘Don’t you? Don’t you indeed?’ he said. ‘You have shunned your entire family for years, and then you march in here, bold as brass, with some devious scheme in your head involving this baggage, I don’t doubt…’

‘The reason I came here has absolutely nothing to do with Helen—’ Aunt Bella began.

‘Then why is she here? You have no business bringing that charity case to a family gathering.’

‘She is not a charity case. She is family,’ Aunt Bella protested. ‘
My
family.’

Oh, no! Saying such a thing was playing right into the General’s hands. Anyone who overheard Aunt Bella’s remark would be only too ready to believe she was her natural daughter!

‘Well, at least we have that out in the open. You think more of that chit than you do your own family, and that’s the truth! Years and years you’ve frittered your money away on her, and now, when I—’

His wife was tugging urgently on his sleeve.

‘Please…not here, not now…’ she begged him.

He shook her off as though she were a bothersome fly. ‘Well, let me tell you something, madam.
I
know my duty to family. And I have made it my business to keep in His Lordship’s good graces over the years. I
have let him know what kind of person you are, and if you think you can persuade him otherwise you are very much mistaken.’ A nasty smile spread across his face before he turned and stalked across the room, his little wife trailing behind him.

Helen could hardly believe that he bore so much animosity towards both her and his own sister that he would stoop to such tactics. He was a blustering bully! No wonder Aunt Bella had been so determined to make a bid for independence as soon as she’d had the means to do so.

She could not help herself. She just had to see what impression this little scene had made upon Lord Bridgemere. Her eyes flew to his face. To her relief, he was watching the General stalk across the room, his anxious little wife in tow, with barely concealed distaste. As yet she had no way of knowing whether it was dislike for the creation of a scene or a complete rejection of his version of Aunt Bella’s past that was bringing that look of cold contempt to Lord Bridgemere’s eyes.

But at least he was wise to the kind of man the General was now.

‘Do not worry, Aunt Bella,’ she murmured, patting her aunt’s hand. ‘Lord Bridgemere is no fool. I do not think he will accept anything the General says or implies without checking the facts for himself.’

‘You seem to have formed a very high opinion of His Lordship, Helen. How on earth did you come by it?’

‘I can see it in his face,’ she hedged, unwilling to admit she had been to see him in private. Because then she might have to admit to her other encounters with
him. ‘He did not like the way the General attempted to browbeat you like that in public.’

‘You may be right,’ Aunt Bella said, though she did not sound all that convinced.

Fortunately for Helen, at that moment another guest caught her aunt’s eye.

‘My goodness, can that be Sally Stellman? Lady Norton, I should say. I have not seen her since my own come-out. After she married we lost touch, but…’

The lady in question, who was just entering the room, clearly recognised Aunt Bella, too. She tugged upon her husband’s arm, steering him straight towards their sofa.

‘Bella!’ she cried, detaching herself from her husband and plumping herself down beside them. ‘It
is
you! I thought it was last night, but you retired so early I never had the chance to renew our acquaintance. How lovely to see you again after all these years!’

The chance for the two ladies to say any more than that was abruptly curtailed when the butler announced in sonorous tones that dinner was served.

Sir Mortimer came to escort Helen in to dine, as he had the night before. This time he did not look bored. No, he looked downright reluctant to associate with her. She had no idea whether it was because he might have heard the rumour the General had started about her being somebody’s love-child, or if it was because of the way she had made a fool of herself the night before, or…

Oh, she had never known a Christmas like it. Peace on earth? There was precious little peace here. Let alone
goodwill towards men. Why, the whole place was a seething maelstrom of repressed resentments.

She was sorely tempted to remove herself from the field of combat by taking her meals up in her room from now on, if the atmosphere was always going to be as fraught as this in the public rooms. Since she had spent part of the afternoon apologising to the kitchen maid and the cook for her outburst on that first night, she was no longer in
their
black books. In fact, after they had all matched her apology with an explanation of their own errors, which had echoed what Lord Bridgemere had already told her, they had said she was a rare lady to come and make peace with them, when most of the gentry did not give two hoots for the feelings of those below stairs.

Only it did seem a little cowardly to hide away upstairs. And to desert her aunt in her hour of need. She lifted her chin as her reluctant dinner partner escorted her to table. She was as well born as any of them! Better than some. And if Lord Bridgemere did not object to her presence, then nobody else had a right to make her feel like an interloper.

She darted a glance in his direction.

His gaze swept round the assembled guests, his face closed entirely. Until it came to her. She thought for just an instant that he hesitated. That his features softened very slightly.

Her spirits rose. He believed her! Just that slight thaw in her direction, coupled with the utter contempt with which he had regarded the General, was enough to remove the burden of worry that had so weighed her down.

She smiled at him.

His face closed up. He bowed his head.

For the young clergyman was clearing his throat before saying grace.

A stillness gradually descended over them all as they followed the Earl’s lead in giving thanks for the food they were about to receive.

Helen clasped her hands at her waist and bowed her own head, truly thankful that it looked as though Lord Bridgemere was not going to believe the General’s lies.

She did not notice Lady Thrapston’s beady eyes going from her radiant face to her brother’s bowed head.

And, since she swiftly bowed her own head, in respect to the convention, absolutely nobody saw the speculative expression that came over Lady Thrapston’s face.

T
he meal turned out to be every bit as delicious, and the atmosphere quite as poisonous, as it had been the previous night. Only this time when Lady Thrapston got to her feet and the ladies withdrew, Aunt Bella whispered, ‘I’m blowed if I’m going to let my brother make me feel as though we have no right to be here. Especially since I have not seen Lady Norton for such a long time. I am looking forward to catching up with her news. Will you come with me?’

‘Of course,’ Helen replied. She had already decided that nobody was going to make her creep away and hang her head as though she had no right to be here herself. Lifting her chin, she took her aunt’s arm and joined the procession of ladies making their way to the winter drawing room. It was the room, her aunt explained, that guests always used in the evenings when they came for Christmas, since it boasted two fireplaces—one at either end of the room.

Lady Thrapston’s daughters made straight for the
pianoforte as soon as they entered the drawing room. They played and sang competently, but the way they commandeered the instrument put Helen’s back up. Acting as if they owned the place! It reminded her very forcibly of the way their mother had swanned in on the day of their arrival, and been so full of her own importance that poor Aunt Bella had been completely overlooked.

‘Be very careful where you choose to sit,’ whispered Lady Norton, who had come in just behind them. ‘If you are too close to Lady Craddock’s camp then Lady Thrapston will take you for her mortal enemy.’

Helen realised that the layout of the room was most unfortunate. People naturally wished to sit as close to one of the fires as they could, but since Lady Craddock had appropriated the sofa nearest the hearth at one end, and Lady Thrapston a matching one at the other, several ladies, apart from her and her aunt, were hanging about in the doorway as though plotting a course between Scylla and Charybdis.

‘Is there no neutral ground?’ Aunt Bella whispered to her more knowledgeable friend.

‘The gaming room. It is just through that door,’ she replied with a laugh. ‘Only I am not permitted in there until Norton comes.’

Aunt Bella’s eyebrow shot up.

‘I will explain later,’ she said, with a meaningful nod in Helen’s direction.

Helen smiled politely, though she took exception to the way the woman was trying to monopolise her aunt and exclude her.

‘Look,’ she said, indicating a quartet of chairs
grouped around a table towards the centre of the room. ‘That looks a safe enough place to sit.’

‘We shall have our backs to the piano, though,’ said Lady Norton. ‘Lady Thrapston might take it as an insult to her daughters…’

‘Especially since I intend to sit and gossip with you, rather than listen to their uninspired performance,’ agreed Aunt Bella cheerfully. ‘But, since I do not care what that woman may think of me, I think we may as well risk it.’

The three of them made their way to the table and sat down, laying their reticules on its highly polished surface before anyone else could steal a march on them.

‘You know why they are all here this year, don’t you?’ Lady Norton said, when the music came to a particularly noisy section that ensured nobody could overhear what she was about to say.

‘Augustine is of an age to make her come-out, and I have heard that Lady Thrapston is angling to get her brother to open up Bridgemere House for at least part of the season in her honour.’

‘Do you think he might?’

Lady Norton snorted. ‘He did not do so for Octavia. Why should he make an exception for Augustine? Besides, their father is still alive. And I am sure Bridgemere will point out that
he
can well afford to launch his girls creditably.’

‘Then why on earth is Lady Thrapston making the attempt?’ Aunt Bella was leaning forward, her eyes shining with curiosity. Helen had not seen her this animated since well before the collapse of the Middleton and Shropshire Bank.

‘Bridgemere House is so much larger than their own London house. And Lady Thrapston, apparently, thinks it is about time Bridgemere spent some time in town again. What better time than to launch his supposedly favourite niece into society?’

‘You mean he has not always been such a reclusive person?’ Helen asked.

But before Lady Norton could elaborate, they all became aware that the General’s wife was approaching their table. With a conciliatory smile, she indicated the one remaining chair and said, ‘I do apologise for my husband’s outburst earlier. I hope you will not hold it against
me
.’

Before anyone could say anything she sat down and added, ‘It is such a pity we have got off on the wrong foot. Especially since the few days we are all going to spend here gives me such a wonderful opportunity to get to know
you
better, Helen.’ She turned an anxious smile upon her. ‘The breach between my husband and his sister has kept us apart for too long, don’t you think?’

‘Well, I…’ It was such an about-face that Helen did not know what to think.

Mrs Forrest smiled sadly. ‘It must have been a terrible blow for you to lose both your parents at such an impressionable age. I would have loved to have raised you myself, but as you know the General is not a man one can cross…’

Helen frowned, trying to recall if her impressions of that time might be faulty. She had not thought her aunt had seemed terribly keen on taking her in, and could certainly not remember her attempting even the smallest argument with the General on her behalf. But then,
she had already been through several households where neither adult had wanted the expense of her upkeep, and had begun to feel like a leper.

‘Your mother and I were…well, sisters, you know,’ she said airily. Then she glanced over her shoulder, as though checking to make sure the gentlemen were not yet joining them, and said, ‘I may not stay and chat with you now, but perhaps we could take a walk about the grounds tomorrow? While the men are out shooting?’

Helen hardly had to think about her response. Here was a woman who had known her mother. Though she had no complaints about the way Aunt Bella had raised her, she had never met either of Helen’s parents. It would be wonderful to have somebody to talk to who had known them both.

‘I should like that very much,’ she said.

As soon as they had made arrangements about where to meet, and at what time, Mrs Forrest got to her feet and went to join a group of ladies who were seeking a fourth for a hand of whist.

‘She did not invite
me
, I hope you notice, Helen,’ said her aunt darkly.

Immediately Helen felt contrite for arranging to meet Mrs Forrest without considering how this might affect Aunt Bella. ‘Did you
want
to go out walking tomorrow?’ said Lady Norton. ‘If you do, then you and I could take a stroll together. Though myself I dislike going out when it is so cold. I would much rather stay within doors and amuse myself with a hand or two of piquet.’

Aunt Bella turned to her with a smile. ‘Then that is what we shall do while Helen renews ties with her
mother’s family. If that is
really
why Mrs Forrest has attempted to detach her from my side.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Helen with a frown.

‘Well, has it never occurred to you that if she really thought so much of her sister’s child she would at the least have written, or sent small gifts for birthdays and Christmas?’

Helen’s heart sank. ‘Perhaps the General would not permit it.’

‘Yes, that
might
be it. But I would not be a bit surprised to learn that she has some other motive than reconciliation on her mind. Take care, Helen. She may smile and say all the right things here, where there are plenty of eyes on her. But I have a strong suspicion she is up to something.’

And so Helen was on her guard when she went to meet her aunt the next morning. And it was just as well, because they had scarcely left the shelter of the house before Mrs Forrest unsheathed her claws.

‘We wish to know
exactly
what you are doing here, young woman,’ she began coldly. ‘And to warn you that whatever your intentions may be we intend to see to it that your days of being a drain upon Isabella’s resources come to an end. If my husband had been the head of the family, instead of that ineffectual brother of his, he would never have per mitted things to go this far. Indeed, Isabella should never have been permitted to make a home for herself, unprotected, to fall prey to unscrupulous people who only have an eye to her fortune!’

It was so obvious that Mrs Forrest considered Helen to be one of those unscrupulous persons with an eye on
Aunt Bella’s fortune that for a brief second she almost blurted out the truth. That there was no longer any fortune for the General to be getting into such a pother about. She found it incredibly sad that this woman had brought her out here simply to squabble over money—non-existent money at that—when they could truly have been spending the season putting aside past misunderstandings and learning to deal better with each other.

Not that she could say as much. For it would feel like a betrayal to talk about Aunt Bella’s financial losses behind her back—especially to this woman.

And Aunt Bella had been upset enough about the way the loss of her fortune had affected Helen as it was.

She had gripped Helen’s arm so hard it had almost been painful. ‘Helen,’ she had said, with tears in her eyes, ‘I cannot believe I have let you down so badly. I thought I had provided for you. Everything I had would have been yours when I died and now it is all gone. You have nothing. Now or in the future.’

‘Aunt, please, do not talk this way,’ she had remonstrated. ‘You
have
provided for me. You gave me a home. You took me in and raised me as though I was your own child when nobody else wanted me. And do not forget how very poor my parents were. Had they lived, I would
never
have had any expectations for my future.’

Her aunt had seemed much struck by that point. Then Helen had said, ‘Besides, you gave me such a broad education that I will surely be able to find work eventually.’

‘There is that,’ Aunt Bella had said. ‘It will be some comfort to know that I have at least ensured you may
keep your independence. I have not raised you to think you have to rely on some man, have I?’

No, she had not. To begin with she had loved Aunt Bella so much it had never entered her head to form any opinion that ran counter to her own strongly held beliefs. But as she had grown, and observed the fate of other women of her class, she had begun to regard women who relied entirely on their menfolk with a tinge of contempt. They were like the ivy that had to cling parasitically to some sturdy tree for its support, having no strength in themselves.

Helen eyed her real aunt with a heavy heart. If this woman had kept her, what would she be like now? Cowed and insecure? Afraid to lift her head, never mind her voice, should the General or any other man express his disapproval of something she had done?

Thank heaven she had met Bella Forrest, who had always encouraged her to think for herself. To trust in her own instincts and follow her own heart.

She forced her lips into the semblance of a polite smile.

‘I am quite sure you do not include
me
amongst the ranks of people attempting to part Aunt Bella from her fortune? Because you
know
that I was merely a child when she first showed an interest in me….’

‘But you are not a child now, are you?’ Mrs Forrest put in swiftly. They came to the end of the gravelled path along which they were walking, and passed through an arch in a closely clipped yew hedge into an enclosed garden. ‘Though you have got your claws into her now, I am warning you that we intend to take steps to protect her. Steps that should have been taken years ago!’

‘This is ridiculous! I—’

But before she could finish her observation she noticed that another party was already strolling across the lawn within the sheltered enclosure. The Countess of Thrapston and her two daughters came to an abrupt halt, and turned round to stare at the sound of raised voices. Helen suspected—although they were all wearing different bonnets and coats—that these were the same females she had observed from the drum room, walking through the formal gardens on her first day here. Oh, how she wished she had observed them more closely. If she had realised this was a favourite walk of theirs she would not have allowed her aunt to strike out in this direction! It was upsetting enough to be having this altercation. It was made ten times worse to have this haughty woman and her proud daughters witness it!

Mrs Forrest recovered first. ‘Oh, Lady Thrapston,’ she gushed, dropping into a deferential curtsey. ‘I am so sorry if we have intruded upon your walk. But really, this girl is such an aggravating creature that she quite made me lose my temper.’ She shot Helen a malicious glance. ‘I dare say you overheard how she has latched onto my husband’s poor sister, and for years has taken shameless advantage of her generous nature?’

‘Poppycock!’ snapped Helen, finally losing her battle to keep a civil tongue in her head.

‘You deny that you have wheedled your way into a defenceless woman’s affections? To the extent that she has made a will in your favour? And that you now stand to inherit a fortune that should by rights return to her real family upon her death?’ So
that
was what this was all about. General Forrest
cared nothing for his sister’s welfare. He was just desperate to claw back some of the money he believed she had.

At least there was one slur upon her character she could refute without betraying her aunt’s confidence, though.

‘I do not expect,’ said Helen through gritted teeth, ‘to receive anything more from Aunt Isabella in future.’

‘No?’ said Mrs Forrest, with a sarcastic little laugh. ‘You do not, surely, expect me to believe that?’

‘I do not care what you believe—though what I have just told you is the truth. I intend to work for my living.’

‘Oh, really!’ scoffed Mrs Forrest. ‘As if
any
woman would choose to work for her living if she had an alternative!’