A Home for Helena (The Lady P Chronicles Book 2) (19 page)

“Miss Lloyd!” she said, her eyes wide. “I went to show Theo and Emily my new gown, and they won’t open the door!” Her chin trembled. “They’re playing some game in the schoolroom and they said I can’t play!”

Could the situation get any worse? Helena looked between James’s confused face and his daughter’s wounded one.

“I’m sure you are mistaken,” she soothed. “I will see to them and sort it all out. In the meantime, do come down and show your father your lovely new frock. I'll be back directly.”

She dashed in the direction of the schoolroom, squeezing Annabelle’s hand as she swept past her.

The door was locked from the inside. Putting her ear against the door, she heard the girls’ giggling, and another sound she instantly recognized as the singing of a certain interactive toy that was all the rave among children in the twenty-first century—a big red furry beast who could hug and dance and do any number of things that toys weren’t supposed to be able to do in the Regency era.

“Emily! Theo! Open the door. Now!”

There was a gasp and the unmistakable sound of children scurrying around to cover up the evidence of their misbehavior.

“Yes, Miss Lloyd.” But the door remained closed.

“Girls! Open this door!”

When the key finally turned in the lock and Emily pulled open the door, the room was pristine, but both girls were staring down at their feet.

“Now girls, I'm pretty sure I know what you’ve been doing. Lady Pendleton gave you some very special toys, did she not?”

The girls exchanged surprised glances. “Special toys? What do you mean, Miss Lloyd?" asked Theo, wide-eyed and innocent-looking. Emily, however, was staring down at her feet.

Helena drew her arms across her chest. “Don’t try to pull one over me, girls. You have a Big Hugs Elmo in there, and I want to see it.”

Both girls looked dazed. “You know about—?” began Emily.

“About interactive toys? Yes, I do,” she said, glaring at them. “That you had some of them here? No, I did not. Where are they?”

Theo led her to a locked cabinet hidden under a window seat. “Mama keeps them locked away for when Granny visits, but I saw where she put the key the last time.” She looked at Helena with a plaintive expression. “You won’t tell her, will you?”

Helena rolled her eyes, but it was Emily who answered. “Of course she will, you numbskull! Mama and Papa will be so vexed with us!" Chin quivering, she gave Helena a soulful look. "It was Theo's idea. To stay home and get out the toys. We couldn't do it with Annabelle here, you see."

Helena closed her eyes and opened them again. No, it wasn't a nightmare. Inside the cabinet with the big red interactive Elmo were other toys, including a rather dated Game boy device, a plastic Rubic’s cube, a Barbie doll complete with a closet full of clothes and accessories, and a box full of assorted batteries.

Emily held up the Barbie doll. “She’s wearing a ball gown Granny made for her, and some glass slippers from the Cinderella kit. Do you know if they have real glass slippers in the future, Miss Lloyd?”

Helena was momentarily speechless.

“You
are
from the future, are you not, Miss Lloyd? Emily and I thought you must be, with the funny way you talk.” Theo’s face was flushed with excitement.

“And Granny sent you!” Emily added triumphantly.

Helena wanted to throttle them. And their foolish grandmother as well. But now she had another problem. A big one. James and Annabelle had burst into the room and were staring incredulously at the fuzzy red toy in Theo’s arms.

James’s mouth fell open. “What is that—thing?”

Helena wished she could rewind the past ten minutes and remember to lock the door behind her after entering the room. She swayed on her feet.

"I-I think I need to sit down," she said, sliding into the nearest chair. Pressure was building up in her chest, and she was temporarily unable to react.

Annabelle approached Theo and Elmo with glowing eyes. “What else can he do?”

Theo turned him upside-down and Elmo giggled and said, “Okay, that’s enough of Elmo being upside-down.”

She handed him to Annabelle. “Now turn him right side up.”

“Elmo’s right-side up! Thank you!” said the toy.

Annabelle laughed. “I’ve never seen a toy like that,” she said. “Can he do other things?”

James moved toward his daughter. "Get away from that—thing!" he ordered.

Annabelle started to cry, and Helena finally recovered her bearings.

"Too late," she said. "Let her play. The cat is out of the bag." She rose to her feet and whisked him out the door and down the stairs toward the drawing room. "We must talk."

"You aren't going to believe this," she told him as she firmly closed the door of the drawing room.

James rubbed his temple. "I don't believe it now," he said blithely. "What is that thing? Where did it come from?"

"It's a toy."

"A toy that talks? I've never heard of such a thing."

Helena took a deep breath. "Of course you haven't. Because it came from the future."

James looked at her with narrowed eyes. "
What
did you say?"

She swallowed hard. “Elmo is from the future, and so am I.”

There. It was out.

James became very still.

“Perhaps you should sit down,” she offered.

“I believe I shall remain standing,” he said coldly. “Have you been into Sir Henry’s brandy, Miss Lloyd?”

Helena shook her head. “No, but I think perhaps I should send for some. I believe you could use a glass, Mr. Walker.”

“Perhaps later,” he said. “At the moment I’m rather… intrigued by your astonishing statement. Please do go on, Miss Lloyd. When you say you are from the future, what do you mean, exactly? That you can hop from one era to another? That you have magical powers? Are you a fairy or—some sort of sorceress?”

Helena bit her lip. “I know it sounds incredible. Even where I come from, time travel is thought to exist only in one’s imagination. I wouldn’t have believed it either, if I had not met Madame Herne that day in the sandwich shop.”

James looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Perhaps I shall sit down after all. After you, Miss Lloyd.”

After they had seated themselves, he straightened his shoulders and said, “Do tell me, Miss Lloyd. If your extraordinary statements are true, from where exactly
did
you come, and for what purpose?”

Helena shrugged half-heartedly, took a deep breath and told him what he wanted to know.

A
fterward
, as James rode back to Melbourne Manor with Annabelle in front of him, he was stunned and appalled by what he had heard. He wouldn’t have believed any of it had not Sir Henry and Lady Sarah returned home unexpectedly and confirmed Helena’s assertions. Shock, anger, betrayal, disappointment—all of those emotions and more had flooded his consciousness, to the point where he didn’t know what to think of it all. He’d collected Annabelle—against her protests—and hauled her back to Melbourne Manor away from the home of the people he’d thought were his close friends. And the woman he’d planned to make his wife—a woman he discovered he hadn’t really known.

“Why can’t I play with Elmo, Papa?”

“Forget about Elmo,” James said shortly, knowing it couldn’t possibly be done. “I’ll buy you a dozen new toys next time I go to London.”

“I want Elmo!”

By the time they returned and he handed her over to Mrs. Fenwick, he was exhausted from trying to manage his daughter’s sudden temper tantrum.

“I’ll send the carriage tomorrow for Fanny, who will have Annabelle’s things packed up by then. Farris will collect her horse from the stables.”

Mrs. Fenwick gave him a look of bewilderment as she led the furious child up the stairs.

Oh God, what would he tell her when she inquired about the source of Annabelle’s ire? Being a servant as she was, he wasn’t required to tell her anything at all, but their relationship was much more than that, and the last thing he wanted to do was wound the one woman who had lent stability to his life over the years.

He looked at his reflection in the hall mirror with tired eyes. His hair was slightly mussed and his face haggard, but otherwise he looked the same as when he’d left, only a few hours ago, expecting to propose marriage to the lovely, outspoken American who haunted his dreams.

From the future? Really?

Impossible. And yet… there had been clues, he realized. The way she talked was American… and yet it wasn’t. Her reluctance to discuss her background. How could she tell him she’d been born in 1989? The odd vocabulary the children had begun to emulate. Her indignation with the idea of arranged marriages and aristocratic privilege and the status of women. No doubt the nineteenth century seemed very provincial to a woman from two hundred years in the future. No wonder she’d decried all interest in the state of matrimony. According to her, there were many more options for women two centuries into the future. She’d come only to discover the truth about her parentage… and then he supposed she’d be returning to the place she knew.

Oh, she hadn’t actually
said
that, but he could read between the lines. What were the chances that a woman who’d grown up in a world that had miraculous inventions such as—talking toys, for God’s sake—would elect to remain in a world that must seem backward and primitive to her?

“Forgive me, Eliza, but I don’t wish to discuss it at the moment,” he told the housekeeper when she appeared in the doorway of the study to inquire about “Elmo” and why he’d brought Annabelle home in such a precipitate manner. “Send Philbin for more brandy, if you would. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

Mrs. Fenwick’s lips pursed with disapproval, but she nodded coolly and left her master to his misery.

T
he room was so
dark that he thought at first he had lost his sight. He used his hands to follow along the wall in search of an exit. Instead, he bumped into another wall, and so it went until he realized the room had no doors or windows.

“Papa, please come back! I love you, Papa! Don’t leave me all alone! I’m afraid to be alone!”

Annabelle! Where was she? Her voice resonated in the dark emptiness. He wanted desperately to go to her and reassure her that he wasn’t going anywhere, but the more he clawed at the walls, the more impenetrable they became. When his hands could no longer sustain the pain, he began kicking, and finally, pounding his shoulder into the wall with the force of his entire body. Annabelle’s crying grew louder and more frantic. James sunk to the floor and wept, weak and bleeding and utterly heartbroken.

“Are you ready to start living again, James?”

The voice was Anne’s. He couldn’t see her, but he could smell honeysuckle, her favorite scent. He'd wished he could give her the silks and jewels she craved, but he hadn’t the means, and his pride would not allow him to accept gifts from either his family or hers. If only he had really
listened
to her and set aside his blasted pride!

“I’m sorry, Anne. So sorry. If only I could turn back time… I’d do things differently, I swear!”

His voice was raw and shaky and his heartbeat was racing so quickly he thought it would burst out of his chest.

Annabelle’s wailing grew louder.

“Our daughter needs you, James. Why do you not attend her?”

James held out his bleeding hands. “I-I can’t. I’ve tried.”

“Have you?”

James thought of all the times he’d refused his daughter’s pleas to accompany him on his rounds, all the times he’d pawned her off on governesses and nursemaids, and how little attention he’d given her. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her, but she reminded him so much of Anne, and thoughts of Anne brought with them such unbearable self-loathing and guilt that he occasionally wished he could end it all, so that he could find her and beg her forgiveness.

“You have it, my love. I was more to blame. If I had not been afflicted with an illness of the mind, I should have been deliriously happy simply to be the wife of a good man who cared for me. But alas, the ribbon of time unrolls as it will.”

“I did love you, Anne.”

“I know. But it’s time to forgive yourself and go forward with your life. Let yourself love again, for yourself and for our daughter.”

James leaned back and let the relief sink into his bones. His thoughts were jumbled and he felt lightheaded, and he wanted nothing more than to embrace his daughter and never let her go. Helena’s face popped into his mind. He knew he loved her with all his soul. But would love be enough? Would a modern woman from the twenty-first century ever be content to live her life as the wife of a mere gentleman farmer?

Anne’s gentle laughter reverberated through the room, and suddenly he awoke.

His hands were whole and not bleeding, and he was still slumped over his desk, an empty glass and brandy bottle nearby. Ah, that was why his head hurt like devil! The lamp had burned out long ago, but he could see the first hint of dawn through the window. It had all been a dream. Had it not?

But the lingering scent of honeysuckle gave him room to doubt.

“
I
know
how you must feel, my dear, but don’t you think you should wait a while longer and give him a chance to reflect? I was quite taken aback myself when my wife first confided to me about her mother's extraordinary adventures. And when she brought back the toys, I was ready to throttle her! But the children had already played with them—Pandora’s Box had been opened—and my wife convinced me the situation could be managed.”

Sir Henry took a deep breath. “It was our fault, of course. We should never have invited Annabelle to stay with us had we anticipated the deviousness of our daughters.”

Helena shook her head, her stomach tied up in knots. “No, no, do not berate yourself, Sir Henry. Children are far more observant than most adults realize. And James—Mr. Walker—he was clearly appalled. I do not believe he will ever be able to reconcile himself to-to…" Her voice failed.

She felt broken inside. Her eyes were red from tears shed in the privacy of her room as she recalled the look of shock and betrayal on James’s face as he’d stomped out the door with a screaming Annabelle in his arms. Would it have been any different had she told him sooner? Perhaps. Perhaps not. No doubt he thought her a witch of some sort—or a Bedlamite. Not someone he wanted to influence his daughter. And certainly not to be his wife, which she had hoped he'd been about to do.

Had he been about to propose to marriage? He’d certainly put a great deal of effort into his dressing for a man just returned from London come to visit his daughter! Not to mention the heated look in his eyes when he looked at her and bade her to stay with him while Annabelle dressed. Her very nerve endings had tingled with excitement in the hope that he was about to declare himself. And then—disaster.

“He’s equally furious with us, you know. I daresay he’ll get over it. Hope so, at least. He’s a damned fine friend and neighbor, and they aren’t so easy to find.”

“Have a care with your language, Henry.”

Lady Sarah swept in, her face drawn and tired.

“The girls are tucked in for the night at last.” She shook her head at Helena. “They are very sorry for their actions, Helena. They never meant for Annabelle to find out; that’s why they stayed home while you took her to the modiste's. They locked the door as their grandmother does when she allows them to play with the toys, and they expected nobody would be harmed.”

She collapsed into a chair. “They are more distressed about Annabelle’s departure than the loss of the toys.” She rolled her eyes. “I took them away and put them in a safe location until Mother comes and we can discuss what to do with them.”

“Toss ‘em in the fire,” suggested Sir Henry.

Helena perked up. “Not the batteries,” she said. “Someone could get hurt.”

Lady Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m too tired to think about it any longer.”

She turned to Helena. “I know you must be devastated, my dear. Clearly there was an attraction between you and James, and I think it would be a spectacular match. It's just so vexing that he's gone off in a to-do, and it's all due to my children."

“Come now, Sarah. It’s your damned mother’s fault, and you know it!”

“Henry!” The color drained from Sarah’s face. “How can you speak of my mother in such a blasphemous manner?”

Sir Henry ran his hand through his hair in an abstracted manner. “This wretched predicament
is
her fault, Sarah. She’s the one who brought the bloody toys in the first place, and let the children have them without even asking our permission! In all frankness, I have to question her judgment. She’s had children of her own; surely she knows they can’t keep secrets—especially one like Granny’s travels through time.”

He rose from his chair and began pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. “It was inevitable, I suppose, that the secret should come out. I have to wonder what Walker will decide to do with this knowledge. If he says anything, I don’t imagine anyone will take him seriously. He has no proof, after all." He drew his eyebrows together. "Rumors don’t require proof, however, and such rumors have been known to taint families for generations.”

His wife broke into tears, and she slapped away his hand when he tried to comfort her. “You need not say anything more, Henry. I take your meaning well. You blame my mother, but in truth, you mean to say you’d never have wed me if you’d known this about her!”

Sir Henry frowned. “I never said that,” he protested. “The whole of society knows she’s eccentric. They just don’t know the extent of eccentricities.”

“So I’m right!” she said, her voice quaking. “If
you’d
known, you’d have run far away and married that mistress of yours instead!”

His ears turned red, and that’s when Helena mumbled her excuses and crept out of the room.

“I would never have—. That was before I met you—. How did you find out about
her?”

Helena felt a headache coming on. Perhaps even a migraine. She never had migraines, but she sensed this one was going to be a doozy.

“Just unbutton and unlace me,” she said to Izzy, who appeared out of the darkness. “I’m too tired to do anything but fall into bed.”

Izzy gave her an anxious look. “Are you sure, miss? Your hair will be a tangled mess if you don’t braid it first.”

Helena tugged at the pins in her hair and threw them down on the dressing table.

“Good night, Izzy.”

After the maid had gone, Helena finished removing her clothing and fell into bed without bothering to put on the nightgown laid out on the bed.

She didn’t sleep, however. The image of James’s face as he’d stalked out the door haunted her. And the senseless argument between Sir Henry and his wife. She’d never heard as much as a cross word coming out of their mouths in regard to each other, and now they were fighting like cats and dogs, all due to Lady P’s lack of judgment when it came to time travel and her grandchildren.

It wasn’t meant to be, she thought as she pressed her forehead into the pillow in a vain attempt to stop the throbbing. She should never have tried to interfere in the progression of time. Even if it were true that she’d been born here and kidnapped to the future, it wasn’t like she could undo the damage that had already been done. She’d been raised in a different era. She didn’t think or act like a woman raised in the nineteenth century. She’d forever be trying to watch her language and behavior so as not to scandalize and alienate people, and thus end up by hurting the ones she loved.

I wish I had an aspirin.

The nineteenth century version—willow bark tea—would have required waking Izzy and perhaps the cook, and the last thing she wanted was to have someone hovering over her asking questions.

I’ll have to go back. Make a life for myself in the twenty-first century. Perhaps find a demanding corporate job and a like-minded spouse and squeeze out the time for a child or two. Like just about every other modern woman.

But first she’d return to London and demand that Lady P tell her what she had learned. Were the man and woman pictured in her locket really her parents? Was she truly the daughter who’d been stolen from Anne Walker's relatives, the Cranbournes? As much as she longed to see them, be reunited with them, she had to accept the fact that it was not likely to happen. Being confronted with a grown daughter they’d last seen as a baby was one thing. Accepting the incredible story of her life in the future was another one entirely. James Walker's reaction was surely proof of that.

In any case, whoever her parents were, they had long come to terms with their loss. The last thing she wanted to do was reopen their grief and cause them even more anguish.

In all truthfulness, she was terrified to put it to the test. She’d rather go away quietly than have to face their horror and rejection. It was bad enough to have seen it on the face of the man she had begun to care about.

By the time dawn arrived, Helena had packed a small valise, and written farewell notes to the Newsomes and the children, which she left on the hall table. After much hesitation—convinced that she would set out walking if he refused—Finn agreed to take her to Maidstone, where she could hire a post chaise to take her to London.

“I’m that sure the master will insist on takin’ ye the whole way,” he’d argued.

“No,” Helena insisted. It was cowardly—and rude to the family who had been so kind to her—but she didn’t wish to face anyone. It would have been better had she never come at all. As sad as she felt to leave her good friends behind, she knew it would be better if they forgot all about her. The sooner the better.

Nevertheless, a tear slipped down her cheek as she turned in her seat and watched Newsome Grange grow smaller in the distance.

“
T
erribly sorry
, Walker, but it appears that Miss Lloyd has departed for London.”

Sir Henry’s face was lined with worry—and perhaps the effects of lack of sleep after the emotional turmoil of the previous evening.

His wife, white-faced and pain-stricken herself, approached with a sheet of paper in her hand.

“She says in her letter that she is returning to London. I suppose that means Grosvenor Square, but I fear she intends to return to the future.” She darted a glance at her husband. “From all of her apologies, I take it she believes herself to blame for our quarrel last evening, Henry. Oh, how I wish we had taken it private! It simply never occurred to me that she would blame
herself
for everything!”

Sir Henry moved toward her and she buried her face on his chest.

While he comforted her, he nodded at James.

“She can’t have been gone long. You should be able to catch up to her if you go on horseback. Check with Finn or Jem at the stables. She must have persuaded someone there to assist her.”

James nodded briefly and dashed to the stables, where he found Finn brushing out the carriage horses.

“Miss Lloyd? She hired a post chaise in Maidstone a couple of hours ago. A yellow bounder. Seemed to be in a great hurry to get to London.” He finished his work and left the horse his oats. “I reckon it’s about time I informed Sir Henry. The gel wouldn’t take no fer an answer.”

Two hours, plus the time it took to get to Maidstone. If all went well, he should be able to overtake her before she reached the outskirts of London. It would be hard on the horse, but James would make it up to him later. He whistled for his horse and galloped off.

Less than an hour later, the sky clouded over and lightning lit up the skies. Brutus balked and nearly overthrew him. James urged him on, but when the second strike was followed by a thick curtain of rain, Brutus rebelled, and James was forced to stop and wait the storm out in a nearby barn.

Thoroughly soaked and disheartened by the circumstances, he paced back and forth, trying to convince himself that Helena would not leave immediately, that there would still be time to intercede even if he could not overtake her on the road. But the more he recalled her stricken face at his reaction to her incredible tale, the less confidence he had. It was clear that she held herself to blame for the contretemps of the night before, and it seemed likely that she would take the first opportunity to take herself out of the picture.

Wait for me, Helena! Give me a chance to apologize. You cannot leave without knowing I love you! I won’t allow it! Besides… you still owe me that kiss, remember?

L
ater that day

“
T
hank you
,” Helena said to the postillion as she handed him a few coins as a tip. Perhaps one wasn’t supposed to tip the postillion after all, she thought wearily as his eyes widened with surprise at the sudden wealth.

“Ye sure ye don’t want me ta wait?” His eyes glowed with the anticipation of earning even more wealth.

“I’m sure,” she replied, retrieving her valise from the inside of the coach. The thin young man was soaked from the heavy rain, and the muddy roads had made his job much more difficult. But then, it did rain a lot in England. No doubt this wasn’t the first time he’d had to toil in the damp and mud while his passengers rode in ease and comfort. Well, perhaps not exactly comfort, but at least with a roof over their heads.

Her knock on the door of Number 42 was met by a surprised butler.

“Miss Lloyd! I didn’t expect you, that is, Her Ladyship didn’t inform me that you were expected.”

“She didn’t know. I didn’t know myself until… well, my trip was somewhat precipitate. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Peters. I must see Lady Pendleton immediately!”

Peters ushered her into the foyer and peered out the door.

“Did Izzy not accompany you, Miss Lloyd?” Then he paled. “Has something happened in Kent to bring you here so suddenly?”

“Oh no, no. Nothing like that, Peters. Izzy will come later with my belongings. She’s fine. I didn’t mean to worry you about your daughter. I was just in a hurry, you see.”

The butler let out a huge sigh. “Yes, Miss Lloyd.” He called out for a footman to take her valise. “Unfortunately, Her Ladyship is from home at the moment, but she would undoubtedly wish you to remain here until her return. Mrs. Peters will see that your room is made up.”

Helena’s heart sank. “When will she be back, do you think?”

Peters shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t say, miss. She comes and goes as she pleases. She left upwards of a week ago for Derbyshire. She didn’t say when she intended to return, but then, that’s not unusual. Sometimes she’s gone for months at a time, and her son-in-law manages things for her.”

“Her son-in-law? Sir Henry, you mean?”

“Not that one. Mr. Stanton, the husband of her eldest daughter, Julia. He is part owner of Stanton's Bank, and they live in Manchester Square.”

Helena briefly closed her eyes as she pondered her next move. After the drama of the previous day, her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. She
should
go up to bed and get a night of sleep before doing anything rash. The sleepless night and the bumpy, seemingly endless journey had surely affected her judgment. But she’d been playing and replaying the events in her head the entire day, planning exactly what she wished to say to Lady P, and she felt like she would burst if she had to wait another night to get it off her chest.