Loving Helen (20 page)

“It is not me I am crying for, but Christopher,” Helen said when they were almost home and she had calmed herself enough to speak. “Crayton is the vilest of men. If he does not harm Christopher this night, he will make certain to hunt him down and finish the job later.”

“Let us wait to see what has happened before we rush to any conclusions,” Samuel advised, though he, too, felt concern for her brother.

Why had Christopher acted so rashly, and what action had this Crayton taken before to merit such an attack?

The coach pulled to a stop in front of the townhouse. Samuel stepped out and paid the driver before helping Helen down the steps. They made it inside, where Miranda waited up for Helen.

“How was — what happened?” she asked, question changing mid-sentence. Miranda glared at Samuel accusingly. “She looks as though she’s seen a ghost.”

“Only a man named Crayton, though it has affected her quite as badly.”

Miranda’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “I’ll take her from here.” She put an arm around Helen and guided her toward the stairs.

“Wait.” Helen turned to Samuel once more. “Thank you for a wonderful evening. I shall always remember it. Everything about it was perfect until …”

“It was perfect for me too,” Samuel said.

And now he would be perfectly discontent until he discovered what it was that had ruined it.

Almost a full hour passed before Christopher arrived, walking through the door, his cheeks and nose bright with cold but otherwise appearing untouched.

“I was going out to look for you,” Samuel said, removing his coat as the butler helped Christopher take his off. “I’d waited about as long as I could.”

“Sorry. I left the theatre on foot and took several side streets because I didn’t want to risk being followed. But all the cabs must have been in the district, so I had to walk for some time before finding one.”

“You didn’t come home in our carriage?”

“No.” Christopher shook his head. “Didn’t you?”

“No.” Samuel motioned to the butler to bring back the coats they’d just handed him. “I wasn’t sure of the extent of the trouble, and I didn’t want to wait around to find out. You said to get Helen out of there, so I did. We took the first cab I could find.”

Christopher took his coat then cringed as he put his hand through the sleeve. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

“You’re hurt.” Samuel stepped forward, his physician’s instinct and training kicking in. “Let me see that hand.”

“It’s nothing.” But Christopher held his hand out. Samuel probed it gently, noting when Christopher grimaced and flinched.

“I think you may have broken the middle phalanx of your index finger.”

“So long as I broke something on Crayton’s face as well,” Christopher muttered.

“A distinct possibility,” Samuel said. “We need to get this splinted.”

“Let’s get the carriage first,” Christopher said, pulling his hand back, but cradling it carefully in front of him. “The harm has been done. An hour or so more isn’t going to matter.”

It could,
Samuel thought.
If the break is a bad one.
But Christopher appeared to have enough range of motion that the delay probably wouldn’t make anything worse. “All right,” Samuel said, after a moment’s hesitation. “Keep it still though. I suppose the cold may do it good.” He turned to the butler. “Lock the doors, and do not admit anyone other than the two of us tonight,” Samuel instructed him, then he donned his hat and turned up his collar as he followed Christopher out into the cold, dark night. There were no cabs about, so he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and prepared for a long walk — a good thing, because he had rather a lot of questions to ask Christopher.

“Who is Crayton?” Samuel’s breath hung in the air — a miniature, translucent cloud viewed only by the light of the gas streetlamps.

“He is Sir Edmund Crayton, knighted for
his
service
to the crown — pressing men from merchant ships into the Royal Navy and claiming the cargo of those ships as his own.”

“What has any of that to do with Helen?” Samuel asked, already disliking the man. Two years earlier, he’d lost a valuable cargo in a similar scheme. Who knew but that it might have been carried out by the very same man?

“Some years ago, before Grandfather found us, Father was in particularly dire straits and well into his cups one night when he met Crayton at a tavern. Crayton convinced Father that every man had something of value, and one only had to search to discover what it was. That was the night Father first had the idea to get his own daughters married to get money for himself.”

“Crayton planted the idea,” Samuel said.

“Yes, though I’ve no doubt Father would have come to the same conclusion on his own eventually. Grace and Helen are both blessed — or cursed, depending upon how you look at it — with beauty.” Christopher adjusted his scarf, wrapping one end of it carefully around his exposed hand.

The night had grown bitter; a cab would have been preferable, but strangely Samuel found he did not overly mind the cold. Anger was keeping him warm.

“Your father arranged a marriage between Crayton and Helen?” he guessed.

“Crayton and Grace,” Christopher corrected. “Helen was only twelve then, but at eighteen, Grace was old enough to marry. If it had not been for Grandfather, she would have been forced into it.”

“Thank goodness for your grandfather.”

Christopher nodded. “To the end of his life, he berated himself for not finding us earlier, for not making amends with our mother. But he
did
find us, and at a critical time — the very day the solicitor appeared at our door, inquiring after our welfare, we went to live with Grandfather. Father was furious. He insisted that Grace meet her
obligation
to marry. I’m uncertain what agreement he’d arranged, but I do know that Grandfather paid a rather large sum for Crayton to go away. He was most displeased, as was Father.”

“I imagine he would have been with his main support and his
assets
removed,” Samuel said, thoroughly disgusted by Christopher’s story. He felt somewhat ill, recalling that he had once entertained George Thatcher in his home, had in fact worked with the man to force Nicholas into a betrothal to Grace.

“Unfortunately, he retrieved those assets last year,” Christopher said.

“And Crayton became involved again?” Samuel asked.

“Yes and no,” Christopher said. “During his initial betrothal to Grace, he visited the house, but Grace was not home. Helen was — alone. I’d found work and was gone most days, and Grace had left to collect and deliver laundry. Sometimes Helen went with her, but more often than not, she stayed home to finish the ironing and cook supper.”

Samuel didn’t like the picture Christopher was painting. During their meetings at the fence, Grace had described the meager home they’d grown up in well enough that now, he could picture Helen there — alone.

“So Crayton discovered that she was by herself,” Samuel prompted, his jaw set hard. He felt both ill and angry and wished he’d been the one to smash Crayton’s face at the theatre.

Christopher gave a curt nod. “I swear I heard her screaming half a mile away. I ran as fast as I could and burst through the door in time to find her pushed up against the wall, Crayton towering over her, doing his best to convince her to do his bidding. Her face was bloody, her dress torn …”

“Little wonder she thinks men are a disease,” Samuel muttered.

“That was not the end of it,” Christopher said. “Father arrived just after I did. He made a show of taking Crayton to task for trying to ‘sample’ the wrong girl. But after he had left, Father unleashed his anger on Helen, shouting at her and hitting her more, telling her how he expected her to behave better next time — that if a man wanted her attention and was willing to pay for it, she’d best be prepared to give him what he wanted.”

“Dear God,” Samuel exclaimed. “Her own father.”

“He was never a father to any of us,” Christopher said. “We shed no tears at his passing.”

“I can see why not,” Samuel said.

“When he sent Grace off to be purchased by the highest bidder …”

Samuel inwardly winced at Christopher’s choice of words.
I was one of those bidders
. At the time, he hadn’t realized the extent of her father’s wickedness — or Grace’s reluctance to marry.

“We believed Helen to be temporarily safe. But Father had other plans. He’d contacted Crayton again to let him know that his younger daughter was all grown up — and available.”

“How did you manage to escape a second time?”
With no grandfather to come to your rescue and no funds or other relatives to turn to.

“It was your letter,” Christopher said. “Your invitation to stay came at our most desperate hour.”

Samuel considered this as they passed by several shops and neared the theatre district. Grace had not asked him to send for her siblings, but the idea to do just that had come to him, nonetheless. And he had acted on it immediately.
Thank heavens.
His heart lurched as he imagined what might have been Helen’s fate, had he not extended the invitation when he did.

“We had been planning to leave,” Christopher continued his story. “Though truly, we’d no idea where to go. I think Helen was perhaps reconsidering marriage to the duke, though she would not have been happy with him.”

“And here I have been telling her how beautiful she is,” Samuel said. “How men will vie for her attention — while she is no doubt well aware and only too eager to avoid that very thing. I am amazed we convinced her to come to London at all.”

“She would do anything for Grace,” Christopher said. “Helen blames herself for our necessitated return to our father’s house after Grandfather’s death. The duke would have gladly allowed her to stay — and likely Grace and me as well — had Helen agreed to be his wife.”

“Is he not a good man?” Samuel asked.

Christopher shook his head. “In the little time I knew him it appeared he was short of temper and rather cruel. I do not believe him to be as bad as Crayton, but I saw little to recommend his character.”

At last they turned to the street beside the theatre, and Samuel saw his carriage, sitting alone, the driver struggling to stay awake.

“We are fortunate that nothing has befallen him,” he said as they hurried over.

“My apologies,” Samuel called to the driver, who sat up quickly as they approached. “The lady was ill, and we left in a hurry much earlier.”

The driver nodded, then made to jump down to get the door for them, but Samuel waved him away. “No need. Just get us home quickly.”

They bundled inside, Christopher still taking care to protect his injured hand. The air inside felt even colder than it had seemed during their brisk walk.

“You don’t think Crayton was looking for Helen tonight, do you?” Samuel asked when they were settled and the coach was moving.

“I don’t see how he could have been,” Christopher said. “Though I worry he’ll do that very thing now.”

“We are scheduled to dine with the Fredericks tomorrow evening. Shall we return home instead?”

Christopher did not answer immediately but stared out the window, appearing to consider. “I do not see how Crayton could be at the Fredericks — or even learn of our presence there. But neither do I see that staying in London will accomplish what we had hoped. I did not see Lady Sutherland in her box tonight, so attending the theatre did not achieve our goal.”

But we did. Helen enjoyed herself
. Samuel could not regret the evening. He would always remember Helen’s sense of wonder, her appreciation, and the pleasure she’d taken from the performance.
The pleasure I experienced being there with her.

As much as he felt fear on her behalf, he also felt anger. How dare Crayton or anyone else keep Helen from living and enjoying life? The man had no claim on her; she ought to be free to attend the theatre or a ball as she pleased.

“I admit that I am worried,” Christopher said.

“For yourself or for your sister?” Samuel asked. “When we left, she was convinced that Crayton would murder you — if not tonight, then at some future time.”

“That is not an unfounded concern,” Samuel said. “Though I think Helen has more cause to worry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hit Crayton tonight partly because I’ve wanted to — and he has deserved it for a long time — but more to create a distraction so she could get away quickly. I’ve no proof, but I believe that before Father died, he might have accepted money from Crayton in trade for Helen.”

“And he died before he could deliver her,” Samuel said.

“Or perhaps Father died
because
he didn’t deliver.” Christopher’s words hung in the air between them, throwing the chaise into an even deeper chill.

“We’re going home tomorrow,” Samuel said. The prickle of fear he’d felt at the theatre when Crayton’s eyes had landed upon Helen took root. “I see now why a cut from your sister would not have sufficed to dismiss Crayton. You have my profound gratitude for your quick thinking and actions tonight.”