A Home for Helena (The Lady P Chronicles Book 2) (8 page)

It was really too bad he hadn't been able to visit Violet while in London. It seemed her new protector demanded exclusivity, and he'd not been able to get past her burly butler. He hadn't been near an attractive woman in ages, and this Miss Lloyd was proving strangely difficult to dismiss from his thoughts.

Lady Sarah looked thoughtful. “What do you know about this Miss Lloyd, Henry? Where did she come from? I don’t believe Mother has ever mentioned her before.”

Sir Henry grinned as he looked down at her. “She’s
your
mother, my dear. Surely you know by now how unpredictable she can be.”

Lady Sarah drew a deep breath. “I
do
know that. That’s precisely why I’m—concerned.”

James cleared his throat. “I appreciate your kindness in offering to keep my daughter, but you obviously have more than enough to deal with at present. If you would be so kind as to call her down… I can send for her things later.”

But the Newsomes wouldn’t hear of it. Lady Sarah was so vehement that he could see she was almost ready to burst into tears again, and after Sir Henry shook his head in warning, James visited his daughter briefly and left without her.

As he rode home, no matter how he fought it, his mind’s eye kept reverting to a pair of bright green eyes and the lovely face that went with them.
Would
he be seeing them again?

“
W
hy is
that man staring at us, Izzy? Do you know who he is?”

Izzy turned slightly and caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. “No, miss. But he’s a nob, that’s for sure. I’ll go ask the innkeeper’s wife.”

Helena and Izzy had just arrived at the inn recommended to them by Lady P. It was a good thing they had departed so early, because the skies had grown dark and a pounding rain had begun to impede their progress. Helena felt sorry for the poor coachman outside in the deluge.

“Just mention my name, and they’ll take good care of you there,” she had dictated. “Be sure to leave generous vails,” she added, nodding toward the coin purse she had hidden in the skirt pocket of Helena’s traveling frock. “I recommend the shepherd’s pie; Mrs. Hill’s is the best I’ve had.”

Mr. Hill had given them a hearty welcome, and set them to wait in the public room until the chamber normally allocated to Lady Pendleton—“the premier suite”—was ready. “Won’t be but a moment,” he’d promised ten minutes ago. Helena had assured him that a normal room would be fine, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “Nothing but the best for Lady Pendleton’s friends.”

In the meantime, the dinner she’d ordered was scheduled for an hour later, in a private dining room that was also being prepared. After so many hours in a carriage—which, although undoubtedly the deluxe model according to standards of the era, was nonetheless the most bumpy ride Helena had ever undertaken—she yearned to stretch out her aching muscles and walk around the town for awhile. Since it was raining, however, she had to content herself with pacing the public room. Perhaps that was the reason that man was staring at her so brazenly. No doubt a respectable lady would just sit down and wait in a ladylike manner. Unfortunately, Helena wasn’t feeling the least bit ladylike, having missed a night’s sleep and then being packed off unceremoniously to Kent to be Lady Pendleton’s daughter’s governess.

Temporary governess.
“It’s a brilliant solution!” Lady Pendleton had proclaimed. “You like children, don’t you? You were a nanny, after all.”

Helena agreed that it was so. “But my drawing is dreadful and the only needlework I know how to do is cross-stitch.”

Lady P waved away her misgivings. “Teach them reading, geography, sums. Do you know French?”

Helena shrugged. “Only enough to pass the undergraduate requirements at Florida State.” She could conjugate verbs with the best of ‘em.

“That'll do. Take them to the park. Visit some of the local sites. It’ll give you something to do while we delve into your family origins.”

Helena wasn’t sure who was meant by “we,” but she figured it was as good a plan as any. She
did
like children, and she’d been favorably impressed with Sir Henry too, the one time they’d met. The fact that she knew James Walker lived nearby and they were likely to bump into one another had absolutely
nothing
to do it.

And frankly, she was a bit tired of the social scene in London. A holiday in the country sounded idyllic. Although it wasn't really a vacation. She would be taking charge of Lady Pendleton's grandchildren.

A beaming innkeeper approached to show her to her rooms. “Tom will bring up your trunks directly,” he said. “I know you and your maid will be wanting a wash and a rest before dinner.”

Izzy hurried to catch up. “The man’s name is Stephen Gibson,” she whispered in Helena’s ear. “He’s heir to the Cranbourne earldom. I overheard him mention that he thinks you favor his cousin Anne.”

“Anne who?” Helena’s interest was piqued. Was this a clue to discovering her identity?

“Don’t know, miss. Gibson, maybe.”

She peeked into the public room on the way to dinner, but Stephen Gibson was gone. It was a clue, however. Perhaps the Newsomes knew something about the Gibsons. Heir to an earldom, was he? Perhaps this journey would turn out to be much more than just a detour. Her spirits revived, she entered the private room and ate heartily of shepherd’s pie, rolls, cheese, and fruit. The ale wasn’t bad either.

Later, after Izzy had helped her into her night clothes, she collapsed into the bed and slept like a log.

T
he Newsomes must be
filthy rich.

Newsome Grange was a large, brick manor house with a white-pillared portico, two stories of windows, and at least six chimneys jutting out from the roof. Not as massive as Chatsworth, which Helena had been privileged to visit in the twenty-first century, but still large enough to require a boatload of servants to maintain it. She wondered if the Grange still existed in the twenty-first century or if it had become too costly to maintain and been destroyed or turned into a public building. Hopefully, its owners had made a deal with the National Trust to keep it maintained and open to the public.

The taxes alone must be staggering.

Izzy, of course, had visited on previous occasions with her mistress.

“Sir Henry bought the place when he started his horse-breeding business. The stables are out past the orchard. Prinny himself was out here to look at a horse once.”

Prinny. The Prince Regent. She’d heard many stories about him from Lady P. A narcissist who lived only for his own pleasures. Lady P scoffed at his self-absorption in private, but she remained an admirer of his taste in art, architecture, and music. “If only he cared as much about the English people as he does the Brighton Pavilion!” she had lamented.

Sir Henry and Lady Sarah turned out to meet them as the carriage came to a stop in front of the portico. Helena bowed her head slightly at Sir Henry’s greeting, and waited to be introduced to his wife. Lady Sarah was more or less her own height, with a fringe of dark blonde hair framing her face, her blue eyes signaling a hint of wariness.

“Welcome to Newsome Grange,” boomed Sir Henry.

“Yes, indeed,” said his wife more cautiously. “We’ve had an express from my mother. Do come in and Mrs. Morton will show you to your rooms. Dinner is at six.”

As she followed the housekeeper, Helena wondered how much Lady P had told her daughter about her new protégée. She had a feeling Lady P’s close family were all aware of her remarkable journeys into the future, but she wasn’t sure that they would be eager to accept a stranger from the future into the immediate family, not to mention put the care of their children in her hands.

The room she was shown to was decorated in shades of yellow and white, with pretty lime green curtains and a matching wing chair in the alcove. The ruffles hanging from the canopy, yellow printed with white roses, were created from the same fabric as the bedskirt and the counterpane. The rest of the furniture—a dressing table, a small writing desk, and a bureau were spotless white, with cushions and knickknacks in shades of yellow and green.

“This is the closet,” Izzy announced, opening a door to reveal a walk-in closet with pegs for hanging on both sides and rows of shelves for shoes and other items of ladies’ accessories. “I’ll begin unpacking immediately, miss.”

Helena looked longingly at the bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up in it and ease her aching muscles.

“There’s time enough for that later, Izzy. Just lay out a dress for dinner and we can both get some rest.” She glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel and sighed. “Well, half an hour is better than nothing, I suppose.”

“Yes, miss.” Izzy helped her out of her gown and corset and pulled aside the bedcovers for her. “I’ll fetch some water so you can wash up later.”

D
inner was a somewhat strained affair
, relieved occasionally by Sir Henry’s humorous anecdotes. Helena got the feeling Lady Sarah, at least, was dying to quiz her about her background, but had to restrain herself due to the presence of the servants. Helena dutifully recounted the details of their journey, including the incident of the curious gentleman at the inn.

“Stephen Gibson?” Sir Henry stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Could he be a relation of Anne’s, do you think?”

“Anne?” Helena leaned forward. “Izzy overheard him saying he thought I resembled his cousin Anne.”

Lady Sarah tipped her head and examined Helena’s face. “There
is
a slight resemblance, but Anne’s hair was lighter and she had darker green eyes. I wonder if James remarked it.”

“James?”

The Newsomes exchanged glances. “Anne was James Walker’s late wife,” Lady Sarah explained. “She was Anne Gibson before her marriage. Her father is a younger brother of the Earl of Cranbourne. From Derbyshire, if I recall correctly.”

Helena dropped her fork. Could she be a relation of James Walker’s late wife? Was
that
the reason for the instant attraction she’d seen in his eyes at their first meeting?

She didn’t know whether to be ecstatic at the discovery of a new clue or devastated by the probability that James’s interest in her was due to her resemblance to his wife.

She made a mental note to send the information to Lady P to aid in her investigations.

A
fter
dinner

“
D
o sit down
, Miss Lloyd,” Sir Henry said, indicating a blue satin settee near the empty fireplace. “My wife and I would like to become better acquainted with you, if you are to have the care of our children.”

If? Helena could hardly blame them for being cautious. How much did they know of Lady P’s time traveling adventures?

“It’s not that we distrust my mother’s judgment,” Lady Sarah hastened to say. “But she can be a trifle… eccentric at times.”

Sir Henry snorted. “My mother-in-law is in the epitome of eccentric,” he said with a wide grin. “All of the time.”

His wife sent him a quelling look, then smiled sheepishly. “She
is
an original. Always has been,” she confessed. “My sisters and I are accustomed to it by now. But she’s never done anything to cause us to question her judgment.”

“The toys?” Sir Henry reminded her.

Lady Sarah sighed. “Well, yes, she did bring back some rather unusual toys for the children last Christmas. Like the Leap-Frog My Puppy Pal and the Disney Princess Song Palace.” At the startled look on Helena’s face, she added, “We keep them locked up. The children know they’re only allowed to play with them when Granny is here. And that it’s a secret.”

“I see,” said Helena. “So you know that she makes trips to the future, and that I came from there myself.”

The Newsomes exchanged a look and nodded. “Mother did say as much in her letter,” Lady Sarah admitted. “But we’d like to know why you have come here, and how long you intend to stay.”

Helena shifted in her chair. “I’m here to find my birth family,” she said finally. “I’ve been told that I was born here and brought to the twenty-first century as a baby.”

At their gasp of surprise, she took out the locket and showed them the miniatures of the couple she presumed were her parents.

“The woman looks familiar,” Lady Sarah said thoughtfully.

“I’ve seen the man too,” said Sir Henry, rubbing his chin. “But I can’t seem to place him. Don’t believe he's been in Town of late.”

“I believe my mother is dead,” Helena explained, “if she is the woman who was with me when she was killed. My father may be dead too. But perhaps I have siblings and other family.”

She told them her story, leaving nothing out. “As for the length of my stay,” she said slowly, “I really can’t say. I have no family there, no reason to return other than having been raised there. If I should find a place here, perhaps I will stay. On the other hand, if my presence here should cause problems for others, perhaps not.”

The Newsomes seemed satisfied with her responses and offered to do what they could to help. After discussing the children and their educational needs, they took their leave of her. Helena followed them up to bed and slept peacefully, her dreams inexplicably filled with the visage of a man with coffee-colored eyes and tousled dark hair.

“
I
’m
afraid the children are still rather dispirited over the loss of Miss Dray,” said Lady Sarah as she led Helena upstairs to the nursery. “They avoid the schoolroom like the plague. We said a few words in memory of Miss Dray before her—remains—were taken to Sussex to be buried with her family, but this is their first real encounter with mortality.”

She paused in the doorway and turned to Helena. “For
my
girls, at least. I don’t believe Annabelle remembers much, if anything, about her mother, since she was so young when she died.”

“Annabelle? I thought your daughters were Emily and Theodosia.”

Lady Sarah looked startled. “Goodness! Didn’t anyone tell you we have Annabelle Walker staying with us? James Walker—I believe you've met him in London, have you not?—he's our neighbor from over the ridge. He lost his governess as well—oh dear, she didn’t
die
or anything, just left or was dismissed, I’m not sure which it was—and he’s still searching for a replacement.” She frowned. “I'm certain Mama knew. But she didn't mention it to you?”

Helena shook her head. She had a feeling there was a reason for Lady P’s failure to fully inform her of the situation. No doubt the old meddler had seen it as the perfect opportunity to put her in the way of the man she saw as a match for Helena. Had she known at the time that Helena bore a resemblance to James’s late wife? Her Ladyship had borrowed the locket for a few days in order to make inquiries among her friends, but had returned it without disclosing any possible leads it might have turned up. Lady P, she was discovering, could be very secretive when she wanted to be.

“No matter,” she responded. “Teaching three instead of two shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I do hope you are right,” Lady Sarah said slowly, “Annabelle can be quite a handful. She did well with Miss Dray’s firm touch, though.” She smiled briefly at Helena. “But you have experience with children. I’m sure you will manage quite admirably.”

She opened the heavy wooden door. “Children, your new governess is here. Your Grandmother Pendleton sent her.”

Three girls were sprawled on a rug in front of a fireplace with books and dolls scattered around them. The older one rose immediately and came forward to greet Helena.

“Miss Lloyd, this is my eldest daughter Emily.”

Emily curtseyed prettily. She was blonde like her mother, but her eyes were brown like her father’s.

“I am pleased to meet you, Miss Lloyd.”

Her somber tone and eyes belied her words. A typical older sibling, Helena thought. Obedient to the nth degree, but still grieving for her previous governess.

“Theodosia and Annabelle, do come to greet Miss Lloyd.”

“I don’t
want
a new governess!”

One of the girls threw down the doll she was holding and folded her arms across her chest.

“Annabelle!” Lady Sarah said sharply. “You know quite well that children in this house do not behave rudely. You will give Miss Lloyd a poor first impression of your character.”

“I don’t care!”

But she rose and walked hesitantly toward the two ladies, hands balled into tight fists.

Helena put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying out. Annabelle Walker was a dead ringer for the girl in the portrait. As her father had been, although Helena had managed to rationalize her immediate reaction to seeing him. But now… she had to believe that these were the subjects of the portrait. And there must be some connection between her and the people in the portrait. She wanted to drop everything and beg someone to tell her what was going on? Her insides were vibrating with excitement.

Instead, she swallowed and forced herself to remain calm.

So this is Mr. Walker’s daughter. And the woman his late wife.

She was a pretty child, with dark hair, an aquiline nose and long lashes. Her eyes were lighter—hazel, perhaps. At the present time, however, she was clearly not a happy camper.

Theodosia, the other dark-haired girl, sprang up quickly and made her curtsey. She was thinner than her sister, and presumably more active, since her gown and hair were already mussed even at such an early hour. She had warm brown eyes like her father.

“I’m Theo.” She tilted her head as she scrutinized Helena from head to toe.

“And this is Annabelle. I believe you’ve met her father, James Walker?” Lady Sarah waved in Annabelle’s direction.

Annabelle curtsied briefly, but did not meet her eyes.

“I’m happy to meet you, Emily, Theo,” said Helena. “And Annabelle. Perhaps we’ll start out being friends.”

Annabelle looked at her defiantly. The other two girls edged closer to their mother.

Tough crowd. Well, the Earskines’ children were no better at first, and eventually they came around.

“I declare a school holiday for today,” Helena said. “It’s such a fine day. It would be a terrible shame to be shut up inside. How about we go for a walk? I’ve only just arrived, but I can see there are lovely grounds here. Perhaps you could show me around?”

Theodosia perked up immediately. “Can we climb trees? There’s this one tree in the apple orchard that has an old bird’s nest in it…”

“There’s a great spot for picnicking on the hill overlooking the lake,” said Emily, with growing enthusiasm. “It’s so pretty there with the tall grasses and light through the trees. And the water mint should be flowering by now too!”

There was an almost imperceptible spark of interest in Annabelle’s eyes, but she maintained her distance.

“I’ll have Cook prepare a luncheon for you.” Lady Sarah turned toward the door. “Girls, mind your manners for Miss Lloyd. And don’t forget your bonnets.”

“A picnic sounds wonderful,” said Helena. Turning to the girls: “What do you say to playing games? Do you have any favorites?” What games did Regency children play? She wasn’t sure, but she did know children, and children always liked games.

“Spillikins?” Emily suggested.

“She means outdoor games, silly.” Theo pushed the hair out of her face. “We played hoodman bluff and duck duck goose when our cousins were here at Christmas, but those are too dull with only three players.”

“Do you girls have a jump rope? I know some rope jumping chants we can do.”

The confusion on the children’s faces lasted only a moment, before Emily made the connection. “Skipping rope, you mean? Like the children in the village do? Would you teach us, Miss Lloyd?”

Theo was enthusiastic, and Helena noticed that Annabelle had to fight to maintain her indifference.

“We’ll make ropes for all of us. A rope should be about three steps long.” She scanned the room for a measuring stick. “Is there a measuring tape or ruler somewhere?”

“There’s a ruler in Miss–that is—the desk in the schoolroom,” said Emily hesitantly. “Would you like me to find it for you?”

Helena squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you, Emily, but I’ll find it myself.”

The schoolroom was light and airy with two windows looking out on the back garden. The chalkboard still bore evidence of the unfortunate Miss Dray, which Helena quickly erased. Other than that, it was what she supposed was a typical schoolroom of the period, with books and desks and a globe on the teacher’s desk. She rifled through the desk and quickly found a ruler.

She returned to the nursery blandishing her find.

“Okay, everyone line up against the wall so I can measure your steps.”

“One. Two. Three. Freeze!”

The girls took three steps, smiling and giggling in spite of themselves.

“I got farther than you!” Theo boasted.

“It’s not a contest, Theo. You won’t want your rope to be too long, because you’ll have trouble with hot peppers.”

“Hot peppers?” Three pairs of eyes stared questioningly at Helena.

“Yes, hot peppers. When you compete to see how fast you can jump-er-skip the rope.”

Theo’s eyes grew big. “I can jump faster than anyone!” She raced back to the starting point and made three careful steps while she waited for Helena to finish measuring the steps of the others.

“Theo…” Emily began, and then stopped and rolled her eyes at Helena. “Mama says she’s a hoyden.”

Helena smiled. “I shouldn’t worry too much. I was a bit of a hoyden myself. My mother used to call me a tomboy.”

“A tomboy?”

“Oh yes. I liked to run around and play games with all the boys.” She laughed at the horror on Emily’s face. “Running and jumping out in the fresh air are just as healthy for girls as for boys, you know! Shall we go ferret out some rope now?”

“Wait! We still have to measure
your
steps, Miss Lloyd!” Emily insisted.

Helena put the heel of her hand to her temple. “Goodness, so we must! And that reminds me, we’ll need some longer ones too, for Double Dutch.”

“Double Dutch?”

Helena grinned at the eagerness on the girls’ faces. Even Annabelle seemed curious about this new ‘game.’ She had a brief qualm about introducing them to things that might not exist yet in this time period, but she had no way of knowing—no Internet to search—and surely advance knowledge of rope jumping games couldn’t cause a big ripple in the space-time continuum. Could it?

“In time, girls. We’ll have to build up your rope-jumping—I mean rope-skipping—skills before we can get to that one. Here, Emily, will you measure my steps for me?”

The paper listing the necessary rope lengths in hand, Helena and her charges made their way to the stables where Helena gave her instructions to the stable master.

“Not too thick—we don’t want the rope to grate on the children’s hands—yes, that one will do. And be sure to tie the ends so they don’t fray. Handles would be nice, but we’ll just have to make do.”

“A handle? Like a whip handle?” Finn chose a whip from off the wall and held out the handle to her.

She grasped it and tested it in her hand. “Yes, but perhaps a bit shorter and narrower for the children’s hands.” She passed it to them so that Finn how it fit the smaller hands. “Do you think you can find some that will work for us?”

Finn straightened. “Find sumpin’ like that? Don’t know where. But my boy Tom’s apprenticin’ with a carpenter, and he’ll make ‘em fer ye.” He grinned at Helena.

Helena smiled. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Finn.”

“Call me Finn, miss. That’s wot ever’one else does.”

“Finn, then.”

“So we won’t learn to skip rope today?” Theo was disappointed.

Finn rubbed his chin. “Not today, but I’m sure he kin get twelve handles by the morrow. That good ‘nuff fer ye, Miss Theo?”

“That would be lovely, Finn. Today the girls will have plenty to do showing me around the estate. Where shall we go first, Theodosia?”

“Theo,” she insisted. “I
hate
being called Theodosia.”

“She was named after an aunt of my father’s who’s a rich spinster and has no heirs,” explained Emily. “Papa thought it was a kind gesture, but, as you see, Theo does not agree.”

“She sent me a pink dress for my birthday that had fifty-two bows on it,” complained Theo. “The only thing I hate worse than pink is
bows.”

“
I
like it,” broke in Annabelle, regarding Helena for the first time without animosity. “She gave it to me and I wore it to church two Sundays ago. I did ask Fanny to remove some of the bows, though.”

“But
I
had to write the thank-you note!”

“I’m sure it was kindly meant,” Helena added. “And I think Theodosia is a lovely name, but if you prefer Theo, Theo it shall be. Now… where shall we go first? Since we are here at the stables, perhaps you girls could introduce me to your horses. I’ve never ridden a horse, you see.”

“You’ve never ridden?” Country girls who were introduced to their first ponies almost as soon as they could walk apparently could not fathom the idea of a full-grown woman who didn’t ride.

“Never,” she reiterated, and both Emily and Theo expressed their determination to change that outrageous situation.

The morning flew by. Helena was introduced to the girls’ mounts and then to the family horses, the grooms and stable hands, and the carriages. Then Finn assigned one of the grooms to give them a tour of Sir Henry’s acclaimed stud, which was located on the other side of the paddock.

Emily led them to her favorite picnicking spot, where a maid and a footman were setting out an enticing spread of cold chicken and ham, rolls with butter and jam, cheese, apples, and a large bowl of strawberries. It was a lovely spot overlooking a lake, with wildflowers growing among the tall grasses. Emily pointed out the bell-heather, chamomile, cornflowers, fairy flax, and meadow buttercups. She was pleased to see the lavender-colored water mint popping up around the lake’s edge.

“The water forget-me-nots have been out for awhile, but the water mint comes out later,” she explained. “I love flowers. I’ve been studying the book Miss Dray gave me.”

The festive mood instantly disappeared, but it seemed to Helena that the girls needed to feel free to grieve.

“Tell me about Miss Dray,” she encouraged.

The conversation was slow at first, but soon all three girls were eulogizing the merits of their late governess. There were smiles among the tears, though, as Helena reminded them that Miss Dray would live on in their hearts and minds, even though she could no longer physically be with them.

“My mother died,” said Annabelle. “I don’t remember much about her, but I have a watercolor of her. She was pretty.”

“I lost my mother too,” said Helena. “But I was in coll—I was in university at the time, so I still remember everything about her.”

Three faces stared at her in astonishment.

“You went to university? But you’re a woman!”

Helena caught her breath. Oops. “It was in America,” she blurted out, “Things are different in America, you know.”

“Do not women in America marry and have children?” Emily looked puzzled.

“Oh yes, of course they do. But they can also become doctors and lawyers if they wish.” Although Helena didn't think Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman doctor, had been born yet.