Seasons of Love (34 page)

Susan rolled her eyes at cook and got on with her work in silence.

Upstairs, Helen crumbled one of the slices of toast, threw the pieces out of the window for the birds to dispose of.

Chapter 20

Briggs went off to deliver the letter, fretting about his mistress and what Becky had said.

Harry, sternly forbidden to get into any more fights,
whatever the provocation
, went off to his morning lessons at the parsonage, but had difficulty concentrating on his work.

When she got up, later than usual, Helen decided to spring clean the dining-room and rearrange the furniture, to take her mind off the aching misery her decision to break with Daniel had caused her.

Becky looked at her a little strangely when she announced her plans, but did nothing to stop her, only made her promise to get help before she moved anything heavy.

When, at two o'clock on a cold grey afternoon, Lord Northby's carriage drew up, Helen was busy pulling all the silver out of the massive sideboard. She knew nothing about the unexpected arrival until Susan rushed into the room and gasped, ‘It's a visitor, m'lady. Lord Northby, he says he's called. We've put him in the parlour. Becky says to come quick!’

Helen stood up so quickly it gave her a stitch in the side. She stood still until it had passed, then pulled off her apron, tidied her hair in the mirror, pulling a face at how swollen her belly looked.

As she went to greet her guest, she wondered what on earth Lord Northby wanted? She had written, out of courtesy, to inform him of her return to England, but had expected that to be the end of it. She hadn’t even written to Roxanne yet, because she didn’t want to face her friend until matters were settled.

Basil Northby heaved himself to his feet as she came into the parlour. He remembered a diffident young girl, quite pretty in a subdued sort of way. He was confronted by a stunningly beautiful woman in an advanced state of pregnancy and could only stand and gape at her for a moment.

‘Good afternoon, Lord Northby. How kind of you to call on me! Do, please, sit down.’

He resumed his seat, refused an offer of refreshments and tried to approach the matter delicately.

‘So - you are a widow now, Helen my dear? For the second time, I believe?’

‘Yes.’

‘Twice married, eh?’ he repeated.

She stiffened. ‘'Yes. Twice.’' Was it possible that he too had heard the gossip? Could it have spread so far afield? She felt quite sick at the thought.

Lord Northby cleared his throat. When she refused to come with him, his wife had said it'd be difficult and she was right. ‘And - er - how is your son?’'

‘He’s well, thank you.’ Helen waited, offering him no help. Let him speak first, reveal why exactly he’d come. She’d done nothing to be ashamed of and would accept no criticism, whatever gossip had said about her.

Before he could continue, there was the sound of another carriage drawing up.

He stood up and went to stare out of the window. ‘Expectin' someone, are you?’

‘No.’ She joined him, but was too late to see who had called. Not Daniel, that was sure, for this was a hired carriage by the looks of it. Who could be visiting her? She wished they would all leave her alone. There! Standing up quickly had pulled her side again. She rubbed at the stitch absent-mindedly, bracing herself mentally to receive more callers.

A moment later, Helen and Lord Northby exchanged surprised glances as an altercation broke out in the hallway.

Becky hadn’t liked the tone in which Mrs Celia Carnforth demanded to see her mistress. She wasn’t having her lady upset, not with the birth due any moment, by the looks of it. When Celia pushed her way into the hall, Becky pushed right back.

‘’Tis no time to be callin’. You can leave your card.’ She failed to push the caller out of the front door again, but still managed to bar the way to the parlour. She’d never liked Mrs Carnforth, whose main pleasure in life seemed to be stirring up mischief. ‘Go back to Bath and pay your dangy visits there!’

‘Well!’ Celia glared at Becky. ‘How dare you speak to me like that, woman! Get out of my way at once.’

‘My mistress is busy. ’Tis you who should get out of
our
way.’

Helen, who had just sat down again, for she was feeling strangely weak today, threw an apologetic look at Lord Northby and struggled to her feet again. Before she could move towards the door, it flew open and Celia Carnforth burst in, followed by a plump, pasty-faced gentleman in clerical garb, with Becky hovering disapprovingly behind them.

‘I told her you were busy, but she
would
push her way in. I don't call that good manners, I don't indeed.’

‘Aha! There you are!’ exclaimed Celia, fixing Helen with a cold stare of triumph. ‘I knew you were in!’

Helen sighed. No avoiding this meeting now. ‘You may go, Becky.’

Becky eyed her mistress narrowly and shook her head. ‘Send her away. ’Tis no time to be callin', but she wouldn't be told.’

‘Becky, please!’

The nurse left the room, but stayed in the hallway, unashamedly eavesdropping. She would be needed before too long, she could tell that.

‘Unhappy woman, all is discovered
!’ Celia announced, in a throbbing, dramatic voice.

For a moment, Helen could only goggle at her. Had Daniel's mother taken complete leave of her senses? She didn’t know whether to laugh or to grow angry at this stirring entrance, so reminiscent of the New Moon Theatre.

Lord Northby's mouth also dropped open in astonishment. He began to wonder whether the woman who had just arrived was deranged and decided he might have to protect Helen if the woman attacked her. What was the world coming to when a gentleman couldn’t make a call without the house being invaded by lunatics?

‘Has my son, my poor deluded boy, arrived yet?’ demanded Celia, pressing one hand against her scraggy bosom and looking round as if she expected to find Daniel lying dead beneath the table.

‘No.’ Helen was beginning to recover her powers of speech and feel angry. ‘And I'd like to know what you mean by . . . ’

‘He will not be long. He will not refuse a mother's plea. And when he comes, I shall reveal everything to him! You cannot escape your past! I shall not
let
you harm him.’

‘Woman's mad as a hatter!’ stated Lord Northby, who’d been observing Celia closely. He turned to the clergyman who’d accompanied her. ‘Shouldn't be allowed out and about. Why did you let her come here? Damme, you should have stopped her.’

‘I - really I . . . ’

‘A mother dares all for her child
!’ announced Celia, moving to strike another dramatic pose rather closer to the fire, for it was a cold day.

Helen suddenly experienced a strong desire to laugh and it was a moment before she could control it enough to speak. Just as she was opening her mouth to ask what Celia meant by this intrusion, Daniel strode into the room, having entered the house from the rear.

His eyes met Helen's across the room and the amused glances the two of them exchanged were so shockingly intimate, that Celia could only gape at them for a moment. Then she pulled herself together, drew a deep breath and prepared to launch her attack at once.

‘Good afternoon, Mother,’ said Daniel, but his eyes were still on Helen and he had a half-smile on his lips. ‘I got your message and came at once. Good afternoon, Mrs Carnforth. I hope I find you well. Pray introduce me to your other visitors.’ His tone was affable in the extreme, as if this were an ordinary social visit, and it threw his mother out of her stride again.

Helen bit her lip and shook with repressed laughter as Daniel's eyes twinkled at her across the room. She couldn't help smiling back. They might have been alone in the room for a moment or two, because no one else spoke.

Celia threw her son a hostile glance. Was he taking her warning so lightly? Was he daring to laugh at his own mother? Well, he should learn! He should indeed.

‘This is Lord Northby, a connection of mine,’ said Helen, keeping her voice steady only with the greatest difficulty. ‘Lord Northby, Mr Daniel Carnforth.’

The two men approached one another and shook hands. Lord Northby studied Daniel for a moment, then nodded, as if he approved of what he saw.

Daniel didn’t notice. He had eyes only for Helen.

‘And,’ she continued, still having trouble suppressing her desire to laugh, ‘I'm afraid I don't know this other gentleman's name. He came with your mother.’ Though he looked familiar, somehow.

‘This,’ declared Celia addressing only her son, ‘is
that woman's
brother!’

‘Edward!’ Helen stared at his doughy face, so unlike her father's lean features. ‘Good heavens!

And I didn't even recognise you!’

‘
You
have not changed!’ he replied, shaking his head and eyeing her with disapproval. ‘I would have recognised you anywhere.’

‘Mother, you mustn’t continue this . . . ’ began Daniel, but broke off in bewilderment as Celia darted forward to place herself protectively between him and Helen.

‘I am here to save you from the machinations of this evil adventuress!’ she announced in a shrill voice.

‘Said she was mad!’ repeated Lord Northby, satisfied that his analysis of the situation was correct. ‘No manners, either.
Not
the way to talk about your hostess! If she's your mother, Carnforth, you'd better do something about her.’

‘I intend to.’ Daniel had lost all desire to laugh when his mother insulted the woman he loved.

He seized Celia’s arm and pulled her to one side, his grip like iron. As he glanced for a moment at Helen, his eyes were warm and tender and he had no need to say what he was feeling, for it showed clearly on his face.

He turned reluctantly back to his mother, wishing for the hundredth time that she would leave him to get on with his life in his own way. He decided that only bluntness could serve, and if that didn’t work, he’d carry her out bodily if he had to. ‘I don't need saving from anything or anyone, thank you, Mother. I love Helen and intend to make her my wife as soon as possible after the baby is born.’

The look in his eyes made Helen's heart beat faster, but she shook her head at him. ‘Oh, Daniel, you mustn't! My reputation - ’

Forgetting the roomful of people, he let go of his mother and moved across to take Helen's hand.

‘You could never make me believe that you meant what you said in that nonsensical letter, my dear.’ He raised her hand to his lips, not as a romantic gesture, which he would have scorned, but because it seemed the natural, the only thing to do. ‘Nothing you do can shake my love for you.

And my mother will tell you how stubborn I can be.’

She couldn't help raising her hand to touch his face. ‘Oh, Daniel! You mustn’t.’

‘Say that you don't love me, and I'll leave you alone.’

Helen blushed furiously as he caught hold of her other hand and pulled her towards him. They might have been alone in the room.

Celia gasped in outrage, but couldn’t pull herself together enough to launch another attack.

Lord Northby watched the exchange between Helen and Daniel with great interest. So it wasn't her trying to rush Carnforth to the altar, after all, but the other way round. That put a slightly different face on the matter, though it was still too soon. But it'd be a good match and he had no objection to it. In fact, he'd wish her well. About time she was properly settled and by the looks of him, Carnforth was a sensible chap, though Lord Northby didn’t like the looks of that mother of his. Mad as a hatter, she was!

Helen tried desperately to be sensible. ‘You can't marry a woman with my reputation,’ she insisted, though it cost her a lot to say such a thing. ‘You'll be grateful to me one day for refusing you.’

‘Will I? You still haven't said you don't love me.’

Celia tugged at his coat. ‘You’ve taken leave of your senses, Daniel Carnforth!
Daniel!
Are you listening to
your own mother?’

He wasn't even aware that she’d spoken.

Helen took a deep breath and raised her eyes to his. ‘I - I don't . . . Oh, Daniel, I can't say it!

You know I love you. But you also know it won’t do for me to marry you!’

‘Let me be the judge of that, if you please. I care nothing for idle gossip.’

‘You ought to care a bit,’ Lord Northby joined in the conversation unexpectedly. ‘People are already talkin' about you both. Sayin’ some dashed insulting things. That's why I came over to see my cousin here. Mud clings, y’know!’

Daniel shrugged. ‘Sir, I don't care in the slightest what people say or what mud is flung.’ He turned back to Helen and smiled at her again, his voice softening. ‘My dearest, most precious love, you will marry me, if I have to drag you to the altar in chains!’ He reached out for her hands again.

Celia made a final desperate effort and jostled her way to stand between them once more.

‘Unhand my son, you - you brazen hussy!’

Helen put her hand to her mouth to hide a smile and the laughter welled up again. It might have been full summer and the sun shining in at every window, so full of light did the world suddenly seem.

When Daniel struck a pose and declared, ‘I shall never let her go, Mother!’ a chuckle escaped Helen.

This inspired Celia to leave her son unguarded again, dart over to the shrinking Edward Merling, who was edging towards the door, and demand that he step forward and
tell all
. When he did nothing, she poked him in the ribs and hissed, ‘Go on! Tell them.’

Daniel drew Helen into his arms and waited. ‘She's very hard to stop once she gets going,’ he murmured apologetically. ‘I usually let her run on for a bit. But if this farce is upsetting you, my dear . . . ?’

Helen gave up the attempt to convince him that he should be sensible and allowed herself the luxury of leaning against him. He gave her shoulders a squeeze.

Edward, dragged into the centre of the stage much against his will, cast another panic-stricken look at the door. He could see that his sister still had no shame and he wished desperately that he hadn’t allowed this hysterical woman to drag him on such a wild goose-chase. Why, Helen was smiling at that Carnforth fellow and positively nestling against him! In her condition! And -