An Impossible Confession (23 page)

At last Ralph finished, putting down the quill and sanding the letter with irritating thoroughness. He blew the surplus away,
studied
the letter for a moment, and then handed it to her. ‘I trust this will suffice.’
She took it, and read.

‘Will it do?’ He was studying her.

‘Yes.’

‘Then we are quits?’

She nodded, folding the letter.

He took out his watch, studying it for a moment and then
snapping
it closed and putting it away. ‘I suggest you make haste, Miss Fairmead, for you haven’t much time left.’

‘I have only to get to King Henry Crescent,’ she said, hurrying
toward the door.

‘Do that, and you’ll find your bird has flown. He’s bound to be on his way to Herne’s Glade at this very moment.’

She halted, staring at him. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because it’s half past four, and if the duel is to take place at five….’

Her breath caught, and she looked quickly at her own watch. It said ten past four. An icy wash of dismay swept over her. She’d forgotten to wind it again! All this time it had been twenty minutes later than she’d realized! Her eyes fled to the window. Outside the light was the faintest of grays, where only a short while before it had been inky black. Was it already too late?

With a cry of concern, she gathered her skirts and opened the door, hurrying out into the passage and almost cannoning into the landlord. She didn’t wait to apologize, but dashed on. Behind her, she heard the man address Ralph.

‘Mr St John? It’s time to leave, your father sent me to tell you.’

‘Very well.’

She glanced back briefly and saw Ralph standing watching her, then she pushed open the coffee room door and entered the noise and crush of travelers.

As she emerged into the courtyard at last, the light was
perceptibly
gray, although dawn had yet to break. Mary was standing by the berlin with Peter, and she turned anxiously as her mistress appeared. ‘Miss Fairmead?’

Helen ran up to them, clutching at Peter’s arm. ‘Drive straight to Herne’s Glade, we haven’t a moment to lose! Don’t spare the whip, I beg of you!’

He was galvanized into action, turning to vault up onto the box. Helen and Mary clambered inside, slamming the door behind them as he snatched up the reins and whistled the startled team into action. The berlin lurched forward, turning sharply in the confined space, and then springing forward as he urged the horses beneath the entrance, and out onto the highway. The wheels rang on the cobbles, and the hooves clattered, striking sparks. Peter’s whip cracked, and the carriage flew along the quiet streets.

Helen sat rigidly on her seat, blinking back tears as she stared out. Mary sat opposite her, and after a moment leaned timidly
forward to touch her hand. ‘What is it, miss? Wouldn’t Mr St John do as you wished?’

‘I have the letter, Mary, but I fear it may be too late. My watch….’ Her voice caught, And she couldn’t say anything more.

Awful realization crossed the maid’s face, and she sat back
without
another word.

Helen stared out at the eastern sky. It seemed that it lightened with every breath she took.

W
indsor Great Park was silver-gray as the berlin drove at headlong pace back along the Ascot road. A light mist was threading between the trees, and birds rose startled from the branches as the pounding of the horses’ hooves thundered across the silence.

Helen was striving to remain collected, but all the time the same guilty accusing thought swung around and around in her head: Why, oh, why, hadn’t she remembered to wind her watch? But for that vital small omission, she’d have reached King Henry Crescent in time. Now it might already be too late, the duel could already have taken place. She glanced at the watch again. The hands pointed to twenty to five, which meant that it was now five o’clock, the very moment set for the duel. Her heart felt like ice in her breast. Please, don’t let it be too late; don’t let the duel happen before she got there….

It seemed an age before the great copper beech towered over the track, and Peter swung the berlin sharply off the road to Hagman’s, urging the lathered team along the bumpy, rutted way to the glade. He was just flinging the horses forward as fast as they’d go when something ahead made him rein in again sharply.

‘Miss Fairmead! It’s the Bourne End landau, it’s drawn up just in front and Mrs Bourne’s standing by it. She’s very distressed.’

As the berlin lurched to a standstill, Helen’s heart seemed to stop. Fearfully she lowered the glass, leaning out to look ahead at the other vehicle. Margaret was standing beside it, being comforted by her maid, and the sound of her sobs carried quite clearly. Helen’s heart began to pound again. It was too late, the duel was over!

With a choked cry, she flung open the berlin door and alighted, running desperately along the few yards of rutted track separating the two vehicles. ‘Margaret? Margaret, am I too late?’

Margaret’s distraught sobs caught, and she turned quickly, the plumes on her little blue velvet hat trembling. She wore a blue spencer over a cream sprigged muslin gown, and would have looked very Mayfair and stylish had it not been that she was so overcome with emotion. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her lips quivered as she stared blankly at her sister, almost as if she didn’t recognize her.

‘H-Helen?’ she cried after a moment.

Helen seized her hands. ‘Am I too late? Is it over?’

Margaret stared at her. ‘How are you here…?’

‘Answer me, Margaret! Is the duel over, am I too late?’

‘N-no. I c-couldn’t stay and watch, I h-had to come away.’

Hope surged through Helen. ‘I must stop them!’ She pulled away, running back toward the berlin.

Margaret called helplessly after her, ‘There’s n-nothing you can do. They w-won’t listen to you, or t-to anyone!’

‘I have Ralph’s confession!’ cried Helen, waving the letter aloft and not looking back. ‘They
must
listen now!’

Peter whipped the weary horses into action almost before she’d managed to close the berlin door, and the vehicle jolted forward yet again. In a blur Helen saw Margaret’s stunned face, and saw the realization of hope. As the berlin sped away along the narrow track, Margaret was climbing back into the landau, ordering it to the glade as well.

Herne’s Glade appeared ahead at last, visible through the silky swathes of fine evaporating mist. Adam’s bright red curricle was drawn up beneath an immense overhanging oak, and near it stood a surgeon, his top hat pulled low over his forehead. Several saddle horses were tethered nearby, and a groom was with them,
watching
what was happening in the center of the misty glade. With their appointed seconds standing to one side, Adam and Gregory were facing each other, having turned after taking the required twelve paces. Their shirts were ghastly white, and their pistols were already leveled, the barrels glinting in the cold dawn light.

Helen leaned fearfully out of the berlin window, crying out
desperately. ‘Stop! You
must
stop! Gregory, I can prove Adam’s innocence!’

For a beat of the heart they remained motionless, but then slowly they lowered the pistols, turning as the little carriage hurtled into the glade, followed by the landau.

Peter reined in once more, halting the foam-flecked team, and Helen fumbled with the door in her haste to open it. As she alighted, she was vaguely aware that William Lamb was Adam’s second, and that she recognized Gregory’s second, having met him at the dinner party, although she couldn’t put a name to him. As Margaret alighted from the landau, hurrying across the glade toward the duellists, Helen went up to Gregory, hesitating a moment before giving him the letter.

‘Before you read it, I must have your word that you won’t go after Ralph.’

‘I won’t give any promise, Helen.’

‘I gave him my word, Gregory. Please allow me to keep it.’

He looked into her pleading eyes, and then gave a brief nod. ‘Very well.’

She turned to Adam. ‘Will you promise as well?’

‘I don’t owe St John any consideration.’

‘I know, but I still ask you. Please, Adam.’

‘As you wish.’

Her hand shook as she gave the letter to Gregory. ‘Read it,’ she said, ‘for every word exonerates Adam.

He handed his pistol to his second, and then began to read. Margaret pressed close to his side, reading as well. Helen glanced again at Adam, wanting so much to see warmth in his eyes, but she found only an impenetrable veil that allowed her to see nothing of his thoughts. She swallowed back the pain, for her past lies still counted against her, and nothing would change that. But at least she’d stopped the duel, and cleared his name, so that he could no longer say he owed her nothing.

Margaret finished reading, and raised contrite eyes to her face. ‘Oh, Helen, we’ve been so wrong, so very wrong….’

Gregory nodded, folding the letter. ‘It seems we have. Dear God, how completely Ralph gulled us.’

Margaret touched Helen’s arm. ‘But how did you obtain this
confession, how on earth did you persuade him to tell?’

‘I blackmailed him. At the Farrish House ball I found out that his father wasn’t taken in by his lies; indeed, I found out that Mr St John Senior is a very agreeable and shrewd person. He’d guessed that Ralph had been telling less than the truth, and he persuaded me to tell him a little of what I knew, which was enough to persuade him that Ralph had to be stopped, hence the threat of disinheritance unless Ralph agreed to return immediately to Jamaica. Mr St John also said that if he found out anything else, he’d disinherit Ralph anyway. I knew so much more about Ralph, including the fact that he’d been continuing to interfere most vilely in my life even after the confrontation with his father, that I suddenly saw how I could use the self-same threat of
disinheritance
. I had only to threaten to go to his father, and that is what I did. With the help of Mary and Peter, I got away from Bourne End and went to the Golden Key to face Ralph with my ultimatum. It worked.’ Helen looked anxiously at her sister and brother-in-law. ‘You mustn’t blame Mary and Peter for assisting me; they did it because they too wished to stop the duel – especially because they cared about you, Gregory.’ She looked at him.

He nodded. ‘No blame will attach to them; indeed, I’m
grateful
, but Helen, you do realize, don’t you, that this letter makes no difference to the duel? Maybe I was wrong about Adam’s part in the past, but I’m not wrong about his dishonorable intentions toward you.’

‘You
are
wrong about that as well,’ she replied, taking the letter from his hand and thrusting it toward Adam. ‘Just as
you
are wrong about something as well, my lord. Pray, read the letter.’

‘Nothing St John has to say is news to me, Miss Fairmead, for I know the exact extent of his crimes.’

‘No, you don’t. Please read the letter,’ she insisted.

‘As you wish.’ He handed his pistol to William Lamb, and then began to read.

She watched, and knew the precise moment he reached Ralph’s vindication of her virtue. A light moved through his eyes, and he looked quickly at her.

She met his gaze squarely. ‘I didn’t play you false with him, I was merely his helpless pawn, but you wouldn’t believe me. And
you
,’
her glance encompassed the others as well, ‘wouldn’t believe me when I told you Adam hadn’t attempted to seduce me. There’s no earthly reason why this duel should proceed, Gregory, because not only was Adam innocent of tampering with Prince Agamemnon, he’s also innocent of improper intentions toward me. If anyone is guilty of impropriety where virtue is concerned, that person is me.’

Gregory raised an eyebrow. ‘Helen, if you expect me to believe….’

‘Oh, I do, sir, I expect you to believe, because what I’m going to tell you is the truth, I’d swear it on my parents’ memory if required to. I’ve behaved very badly indeed since leaving Miss Figgis’s emporium of decorum; in fact, I doubt that that good lady would recognize me if given a description of my antics.’ She swallowed, for a blush of shame colored her cheeks. ‘Gregory, when I arrived at Bourne End, you were curious as to what hour I’d set off in order to reach Ascot so early in the afternoon. I glossed over a reply, for the truth was that I’d spent the previous night at the Cat and Fiddle Inn, Upper Ballington, forced to do so by the weather and by Lord Swag. Afraid for my reputation, I decided to adopt a false name, and so I pretended to be the widowed Mrs Brown.’

Margaret gasped in dismay. ‘Oh, Helen!’

‘I know it was foolish, but it seemed safe enough at the time. I would continue with the journey in the morning, and no one would be any wiser. But it wasn’t as simple as that, for in the
courtyard
I was saved from certain death by Adam’s quick thinking, and when he asked me to dine with him, I didn’t hesitate to accept. I’d do it again, so help me, for in spite of my monumental gaffes, I enjoyed that evening more than was wise. I basked in the
flattering
and charming attention of a man whose very smile devastated me, and when later that night I saw him again rescue someone, this time a maid from the brutish attentions of a drunken coachman, my fate was sealed.’ She looked at Adam then. ‘I fell hopelessly in love with you that night, and if a liberty was taken when we finally parted, it was a liberty I didn’t attempt to spurn.’

‘Helen, you don’t have to say any more….’ he began.

‘But I do, I have to tell them everything.’ She began to recount her every thought and action over the past weeks, and when she’d finished, she looked at them all. ‘My conduct doesn’t bear close
inspection, does it? And my reputation will never amount to much, not after all this. If you persist in this duel now, Gregory, you’ll be persisting for a nonexistent cause – my good name.’ There were tears in her eyes as she looked pleadingly at him. ‘Please believe me, Gregory, and stand down from this duel. You and Adam have no ax to grind any more, all obstacles have been removed from your friendship. He doesn’t owe you an apology for anything, but you owe him one, for you’ve been totally in the wrong
throughout
.’

He glanced at Margaret, who slipped a hand into his. ‘She’s right, Gregory, we do owe Adam an apology.’

Gregory turned to Adam. ‘I don’t know how to begin….’

Adam hesitated, but then held out his hand. ‘I understand how you were misled. I’m glad to extend my hand in friendship again.’

Gregory’s face broke into a relieved and glad grin, and he swiftly accepted the proferred hand.

As Margaret hastened to make good the rift as well, Helen turned away unnoticed. Tears were blinding her. She’d told all now, and the full extent of her foolishness would soon be common knowledge. And she would have to face the raised eyebrows of society on her own, a woman who by her own admission had behaved with unbecoming boldness.

She slipped away to the berlin, pausing only to speak to Peter. ‘Please drive away, Peter.’

‘Yes, miss. But where?’

‘Anywhere, just take me away from here.’ She climbed inside, closing the door softly behind her. Mary was still seated inside, and now reached out to comfort her mistress, who gave in to the tears of wretchedness.

Peter urged the tired horses away, and the berlin’s wheels left an arc on the wet grass as it turned around in the glade and then drove off.

Margaret broke off in mid-sentence, turning in dismay. ‘Helen? Helen, come back!’ She made to hurry after the carriage, but Gregory caught her hand.

‘Let her go, it will do no good to follow.’ He glanced at Adam, who was standing gazing after the berlin, a pensive expression on his face.

Peter urged the team along the bumpy track toward the copper beech, and then turned toward Hagman’s, feeling that Helen would rather go there than return to Bourne End. In the berlin, Helen felt as if her heart was breaking. It was all over, once and for all, and she’d lost the only man she’d ever love. Hot tears stung her eyes, and a hollow ache echoed inside her, as if her soul had gone. Ralph had played a part in her misery, but when it came down to it, she had no one to blame but herself; she was the author of her own downfall.

She gazed blindly out of the window. The air was much more luminous now, with the sun almost above the eastern horizon. Mist still clung between the trees, becoming more dense as they neared Eleanor’s Lake. The boathouse appeared ahead, silent and deserted after the celebrations of the night before. The pleasure boats were moored along the jetty, and the great golden barge was still adorned with its floral decorations.

Peter reined the exhausted horses in, climbing down from his box and coming apologetically to the door. ‘I can’t drive them any more, Miss Fairmead, they’re quite used up.’

Still overcome with tears, she nodded. ‘Yes, of course. I-I’ll walk for a while.’ She alighted from the carriage, followed by Mary, who was very anxious about her.

‘I’ll stay with you, miss.’

‘No, I’d prefer to be alone. I’ll be all right, please don’t worry.’

Without waiting for the maid to say anything more, Helen walked away, her steps taking her automatically toward the
lakeside
path. There was no music in the air this time, no Mozart or Vivaldi, just an early morning chorus of birdsong. The lake lapped softly against the shore, the water smooth and almost without a ripple. Swans glided silently over the glassy surface, and she could hear the ducks somewhere among the reeds further along the shore. The rhododendrons were as if seen in a dream, their foliage indistinct, their blooms subdued but still of discernible color.