A Little Deception (30 page)

She caressed the empty space at her side, imagining it still
warm from when he had left not so long ago for a morning canter with Charles in
the park. She was glad she didn’t have to be involved in that encounter.

After she had washed and dressed in a lace-edged morning
gown of twilled lemon silk she was halfway down the stairs to the breakfast
room when a sound on the landing above made her glance up. The door to Helena’s
room clicked shut but Rose had seen enough of the peaked white face with its
large, staring eyes above purple smudges to realize that something was amiss.

Laudanum, again? she wondered, and her previous high spirits
drained away.

Quickly Rose retraced her footsteps. After a cursory knock
she let herself into Helena’s bedchamber. There was a scrambling noise.

‘Helena?’

The room was in shocking disorder. Clothes lay scattered
over the bed, across chairs, and Helena was nowhere to be seen.

A daintily shod foot stirred beneath the silk
dressing-screen.

Rose advanced, her heart thumping, imagining Helena
collapsed on the floor, but when she put her head around the screen Rose merely
saw her sister-in-law on her knees, bundling a green silk dress into a bag.

Helena looked up and focused blearily on Rose. Rose glanced
around for the tell-tale little blue bottle.

‘Helena?’ She crouched down, not at all sure of her
reception. ‘You don’t seem at all the thing. Are you unwell?’

Helena’s dark hair hung lankly down the sides of her face;
and although she slurred her words her explanation was coherent enough for Rose
to deduce that she had done something last night of which Charles would
definitely not approve.

Surprisingly, too, Helena seemed frightened. The last time
her sister-in-law had behaved so abominably she had carried it off with
bravado. Never once had she apologized, even though she had put their very
existence in peril.

Anger replaced Rose’s sympathy. ‘What was it this time,
Helena? Loo? Vingt-et-un? Whist?’ Her voice was harsh.

‘What does it matter?’ sighed Helena. ‘All I know is that
I’ve lost a lot of money, which somehow I must repay if Charles isn’t to
discover it.’

‘Well, I’m glad you’re concerned enough this time to worry
about doing the right thing.’

The irony was lost on Helena who continued bundling another
lovely gown into the drawstring bag.

Rose reached forward. It was Helena’s diaphanous gown which
had outraged Charles when Rose had worn it to meet Lord Rampton for the first
time. Following the dress went Helena’s small jewellery case, rattling with the
meagre contents that Rose knew she scorned so much.

‘You’re not …’ Rose clasped her sister-in-law by the
shoulder and drew face close. ‘Helena, whatever you’ve done Charles will
forgive you. Stop it. Come downstairs with me. We’ll have a soothing
restorative and you can tell me your troubles.’

Helena’s expression made clear what small comfort that would
be. With calm deliberation she packed another gown into the bag.

‘Where will you go? Where were you planning to go?’ Rose
amended. As long as she was able to do anything about it Helena was not going
anywhere. Rose was fond enough of her brother to realize his devastation
– not to mention how injured he would be by the ensuing scandal –
should Helena abandon him.

‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to leave
Charles, and you know it.’ There was a feverish flush to Helena’s cheeks and
the pupils of her eyes were like pinpricks. ‘But I have nowhere to go … except
home with him to the West Indies. Nevertheless,’ she added, stuffing one last shawl
into the bag and pulling the drawstring tight, ‘my immediate mission is to
the pawnbroker’s.’

‘The pawnbroker’s?’

‘Unless you have a hundred guineas you’d like to advance me
before tomorrow.’

Rose was checked. To begin with, she did not have anything
like that sum. Rampton did not keep her short of pin money, but a hundred
guineas was a different matter. Secondly, she had little doubt that that would
be the last she would ever see of it if she lent it to Helena. And besides, it
would do Helena good to settle her own debts.

‘You’ve not done this before, have you, Helena?’

‘I heard of a pawnbroker’s in conversation. It’s not far. I
mean to go there’ - she looked at Rose as if daring her to challenge her as she
stood up -‘this very minute.’

Rose was torn between persuading her to make a clean breast of
things to Charles, and allowing her to continue her mission. She decided upon
the latter course.

If Helena were forced to give up some of her most precious
possessions – possessions which could, of course, be redeemed at a later
date – she might be less inclined in future to make wagers she couldn’t
afford to lose.

‘Arabella’s taken the carriage.’

‘I think a hackney might be a little more discreet, Rose.’
After jamming a black bonnet into the bag, Helena headed for the stairs.

Rose wondered what to do. Tell Charles? No, Charles had put
up with enough. They all had. It was only right that Helena should atone for
her misdemeanours.

Once in the street Rose hailed a passing hackney. Snatching
the bag from Helena, she withdrew the veiled black bonnet and stuffed it on her
sister-in-law’s head.

‘So devious,’ marvelled Helena as the vehicle drew up. ‘I
always thought that was where I excelled. But then …’ she sighed, ‘you are the
illustrious Lady Rampton and I am merely impoverished Lady Chesterfield.’

Rose uttered a mirthless laugh. ‘Such loyalty, Helena,’ she
said as she helped her sister-in-law on to the lowered steps. For some reason
her high spirits had returned. Rampton loved her and Helena was doing the right
thing by Charles.

The door slammed and Helena leant out, reaching out her
hands. ‘Bear me company, Rose,’ she pleaded. ‘I know you’re not dressed for it,
but you can stay in the carriage. Please!’

Rose began to protest. She had told no one she was leaving
the house.

‘It’s only round the corner. We’ll be back in ten minutes
and no one will be any the wiser.’

No, thought Rose, just as she was weakening. Helena could do
this on her own. She needed to. For all their sakes.

‘Please, Rose!’ Helena began to cry as she fumbled for the
door to try and let herself out. ‘I cannot do it alone. I don’t have your
courage, Rose. Come … please? You may scold me all you like during the
journey.’

‘That’s a rare treat hard to pass up.’ Relenting at last,
Rose settled herself opposite.

‘You’re always scolding me, anyway,’ said Helena, sourly.

‘Only because you’ve not shown my brother the loyalty he
deserves from his wife. Anyway, what have you done this time that you must
resort to all this cloak and dagger?’

‘I’m not telling you. But as for Charles, I have not one
ounce of guilt. He promised me the moon and anything else I desired if I’d
marry him.’ Helena tossed her head.

‘You knew Charles had been in love with you since you were
in short skirts. And you knew he wasn’t in funds. It’s only because Sir Hector
wouldn’t have you that you crooked your little finger at my brother. Though I
can’t imagine why, since clearly a great fortune was your chief requirement.’ Rose
remembered the whispers that were circulating at the time. She’d been
astonished when Helena accepted Charles with such alacrity.

‘Well! Sir Hector made it brutally clear you were the only
woman for him. And, Rose, you hardly advanced my case after you rejected him
when it would have meant so little to you, and so much to me.’ Helena’s look
was black. ‘You couldn’t have done better than Sir Hector. He was so rich!
Richer even, than Rampton.’ She glowered out of the window.

‘But not nearly as charming.’ Rose smiled.

A faint twitch of the shoulder and turn of the head
indicated Helena’s scorn. ‘What does that signify? You can’t tell me you love
him.’ Before Rose could open her mouth to deny this, she added, ‘Well, you
can’t tell me you love him any more than you loved poor jilted Sir Hector.’

Forcing herself to remain calm, Rose asked, levelly. ‘What
makes you say that?’

‘Why, you and Sir Hector seemed as thick as thieves –
until he asked you to marry him. You were always together. I’ve never seen you
laugh with Rampton like you used to laugh with Sir Hector.’

Helena had obviously been too wrapped up in herself to have
noticed that last night Rose and Rampton had laughed like lovers. Poor Sir
Hector. She’d felt terrible when she’d realised his feelings towards her were
not paternal. Nevertheless, the truth was that now she was happier than she could
remember. A warm glow suffused her.

Arabella’s future bridegroom – whoever that might be
– was another hurdle to jump, but at least Rose and Rampton had apologized
to one another and were of one mind in ensuring the marriage to Yarrowby would
not go ahead.

Returning to Helena’s remark she defended herself, ‘You know
very well the reason was because I had known Sir Hector such a long time and
had supposed him Papa’s friend – and mine.’ What a shock it had been to
realize that he had misconstrued her friendliness. She thought of his
unexpected kiss, and shivered.

Not long afterwards Helena and Charles had married and
everyone had said how lucky Charles was. Helena was famed for her beauty … and
her numerous admirers, too many to recall.

There had been one, though, who lodged in her mind. Rose
frowned, trying to remember the man Helena had alluded to on several occasions.
She had never met him but word was that he had swept Helena off her feet …
before sweeping suddenly out of her life.

She gave Helena an appraising look. ‘Had I married Sir
Hector the material gains would have made me as content as you are now with
Charles. You were too impatient, Helena. You should have waited for your heart
to mend after you were jilted.’

Helena’s green eyes glittered. ‘I jilted
him
. Granted he was dashing, but with
few prospects. His pay wouldn’t have kept me in silk stockings. We quarrelled
and when I realized my mistake he had gone.’ She muttered, ‘Lord knows why I
imagined I could live with Charles.’

‘Well, you’ll just have to make the best of it,’ said Rose,
adding, as the hackney drew up in a most insalubrious-looking neighbourhood,
‘and I’m glad to see you’ve started.’

Helena stared, horrified, out of the window. ‘Are you sure …
well, just fifty would do.’

Rose laughed. ‘What, in my reticule at this moment?’ She
shook her head. ‘You must think Rampton even more generous than he is.’

‘And is he?’ asked Helena, a greedy light in her eye.

‘Generous?’ Rose gave a soft, husky laugh. ‘Very!’ As Helena
looked on the verge of tears, Rose relented. ‘Wait …’ and Helena, rising from
the seat turned.

‘The white gown is a favourite and I know you’d planned to
wear it on Friday. Don’t give that one to the pawnbroker. I’ll pay the equivalent
of what he would.’

Helena clutched the bag more tightly to her bosom and said
in a strangled voice, ‘Thank you, Rose, but no! Now wait here, I won’t be but
two minutes.’ She glanced with distaste at the street urchins who had gathered,
shooing them away as she held her handkerchief to her nose.

Wearing a look of utter tragedy, Helena put a dainty foot
upon the step. One hand went shakily to her chest while the other gripped the
door frame. She turned to Rose as she stepped down, saying proudly, ‘Charles
will not be disgraced by his wife on this occasion.’

It was a performance worthy of Shakespeare, thought Rose,
before leaping forward as Helena’s speech was cut short by her strangled cry.
Relieved, she saw that her sister-in-law’s fall had been arrested by the
attentive jarvey.

‘Got any burnt fevvers?’ he asked, smirking as he cradled
Helena in his arms.

‘Put her in the carriage!’ Rose snapped. ‘That’s right. Let
her lie across the back seat.’ Tossing off her own bonnet she replaced it with
Helena’s black veiled piece and seized the bag.

‘Stay here,’ she commanded the jarvey as she arranged the
veil over her face. ‘I daresay I can trust you with the lady. Here,’ she
rummaged in her reticule for her smelling salts, ‘wave this under her nose. I
shan’t be long. Oh, and here’s something for your trouble.’ The man’s eyes
glittered at the sight of the coin; even more as she added, ‘There’ll be
another of those if you stay here … and remain discreet about this.’

Although what was indiscreet about a lady swapping bonnets
and taking a stuffed bag into a pawnshop? Many ladies of quality found
themselves under the hatches and resorted to such temporary means of delivering
themselves from pecuniary embarrassment.

When Rose saw how the eyes of the wizened old man who
emerged from the musty shop interior lit up she nearly turned on her heel and
fled, but the thought of Helena languishing in the carriage, unable to complete
the necessary errand herself, spurred her on.

A warm current of fetid air made her nostrils quiver as the
old man leaned forward to finger the items she passed across to him.