The Rebel’s Daughter (24 page)

“
Are you
listening to me, Helena?”

“
Oh yes,
yes, of course I am. Tell me, Henry. How serious is this interest
of yours in architecture?”

His eyes shone. “In no other city in the
world is there so much building going on. Everywhere you go there
are builders, carpenters and stonemasons.”

Helena refrained from pointing out that he
was one of few who might feel this an advantage, instead saying,
“Father always imagined you would go into the army.”

“
Which
army?” he said, one brow raised.

Helena opened her mouth, and then closed it
again. He had a point, and Master Devereux complained constantly of
the large numbers of soldiers the king kept in barracks on Hounslow
Heath, soldiers whom by rights should have been discharged after
the rebellion.

“
I am
sixteen, Helena,” he said firmly. “I have decided I want to be an
architect.” He halted beneath an arbor, its leafless branches
twisted together above them in a high curve. “If you will agree, I
want to ask Master Devereux to find a master to indenture me to an
apprenticeship.”

“
Are you
sure about this?” At his expectant nod, she felt the prick of tears
behind her eyes. He was talking about a career, about leaving. She
cleared her throat. “If-If that is what you want, Henry. But we
shall have to tame this.” She tugged at a thick strand of fair
hair, which, being hatless, he had left to hang loose on his
shoulders.

He jerked his head away, laughing in mock
protest. “This is what I want, Helena. However I must be sure you
are happy about this path I have chosen.”

Helena slowed down her footsteps. “I love
London. Lambtons is a wonderful place and the Devereuxs couldn’t be
kinder. But as to my future,” she gave a bemused shrug, “I shall
have to be married to obtain anything in life, as Celia is always
reminding me.”

“
I would
feel better about leaving, if you were.”

She wondered if he meant happy, or
married, but decided not to pursue the subject. She inhaled a deep
breath, tucking her arm beneath his. “So tell me, how does one go
about becoming an architect?”

Henry brightened, his enthusiasm palpable.
“I need a Master willing to take me on for a liking,
and-.”

“
Whatever is a liking?” She bit her lip to prevent herself
laughing.

“
This is
serious, Helena.” A sharpness entered his eyes, betraying
hurt.

Chastened, she composed her face into an
expression of studious enquiry. “Explain.”

“
I stay
with the Master for a period of a month, to see if we get on well
together, and to determine if I have aptitude for the work. If he
is agreeable, I pay him a premium, that is, an agreed sum of money,
for a seven-year apprenticeship.”

“
Then
shall you build cathedrals?” Helena forced herself to sound
cheerful, though the idea of Henry leaving her for so long made her
chest hurt.

His chin lifted in mock disdain.
“Eventually, I might. Most likely I shall be a journeyman to gain
experience.”

“
What
would a premium cost?”

He puffed up his cheeks and blew out a
breath air that condensed into a stream of white in the chill air.
“I have to study mathematics and drawing, so several hundred pounds
would be needed for my tuition.”

Helena turned her shocked gasp into a
cough. The pleading look on his face told her that any reservation
on her part would crush his dreams. “Th-that doesn’t sound
insurmountable. We’ll speak to Master Devereux this evening.” When
he flushed she said, “I assume you have already spoken to
Samuel?”

“
The day
before he left, yes. Oh don’t look at me like that, Helena. I had
approach him before he left for Devon, I-”

She halted on the gravel and turned to
face him. “A whole week ago, Henry. Why did you not say anything to
me?” He started to speak but she held up a hand, halting his
excuses. The situation already felt out of her control. “What did
he say?”

“
That I
would make a better architect than a wool man, at any
rate.”

“
I can
see you have thought of everything.” She had not intended her voice
to be so sharp, though he barely noticed.

“
I knew
you would be happy for me and not mind my going.” He gripped her
arm so hard, she called out in protest as he dragged her toward the
door. “Let’s go in, Helena, I cannot feel my feet.”

Mind
? Of course she minded, though she
allowed him to bundle her into the kitchen with its steamy warmth
and enticing smells.

When Lubbock bore down on them with a tray of
freshly baked pasties, Henry fell on them ravenously.

Helena nibbled at hers, unable to force it
past the lump in her throat.

* * *

Master Francis Newman, a city
architect with several public buildings to his credit, had accepted
an invitation to the Lambtons for supper, and an audience with
Robert Devereux. A younger man than either of them had anticipated,
he had
piercing light blue eyes and a pleasant manner. Over an
excellent supper and a few glasses of wine, Master Newman agreed to
take Henry on as his apprentice.

Samuel had agreed to send the premium
required on completion of the “liking” and Henry was to reside at
Master Newman’s house in Charles Street, to learn the
profession.

“
What do
you think of him?” Henry whispered, from their position at the back
of the room where Robert Devereux drank wine with Mr
Newman.

“
He
seems amiable enough,” Helena said, non-committal, trying not to
glare at the man who was about to take her brother away from her.
“You are the one who will have to work with him. For seven years,”
she added, with a tinge of bitterness.

“
It will
pass quickly, you’ll see.”

It seemed nothing would dampen Hendry’s
enthusiasm.

It seemed to Helena it was all too soon after
their conversation in the garden, that she stood with the Devereuxs
on the road outside Lambtons, shivering from the chill, but
unwilling to cut short her farewells to Henry.

In the cold morning air, which Alyce had
declared was injurious to their health, Henry bounced on the soles
of his feet as he thanked the senior Devereuxs for their
hospitality; embracing Celia and Phebe with enthusiasm. Having
disengaged himself from Alice’s suffocating clutches without giving
offence, he gathered his sister’s hands in his. “I will make Father
proud of me, Helena.”

Helena
’s prepared words of love and
encouragement caught in her throat. “I know you shall,” she
croaked, her eyes swimming with tears.

The chair stood on the cobbles with its
lid up and door open. Henry climbed inside, and the chairmen
hoisted the poles between muscled arms, setting off at a trot over
the cobbles, calling “make way, make way there”, as hawkers and
streetwalkers leapt out of their path.

“
Charles
Street is a mere step away,” Phebe snapped in response to Helena’s
heavy sigh. “You’ll hardly know he’s gone.”

Celia glared at her sister, who flounced
away along the hallway, leaving the two girls alone in Helena’s
room. Celia chattered happily and Helena stared moodily down at the
sodden garden.

Despite her friend’s overt sympathy,
Helena could not explain that she felt adrift in a world where she
had no place. Lambtons felt like a stage where she played the part
of a tragic heroine, the daughter of the rebel whose fate was
unknown.

At night, Helena lay sleepless, listening
to the watch calling each hour, her loneliness gnawing at her until
the London dawn crept across the sky.

* * *

Lambtons came alive in the evenings, the
ground floor a noisy, bustling, aroma-filled place where servers
crashed through doors and ran from room to room in response to
shouted orders from customers and cooks alike.

However, one particular evening, things
weren’t quite the same. Henry had been gone only a day, and yet she
missed his cheerful face peeking round doorframes, and his laugher
in the hallways.

Alyce looked up from her place beside the
fire as Helena entered the salon. “Have you told her,
Robert?”

“
Er-not
yet, woman. I have hardly had an opportunity.” He beckoned Helena
closer, shifting sideways on the chaise longue to make room for
her. “Do sit with me, my dear.”

Helena frowned. He never called Alyce
“woman”. Then watching the flush suffuse his face, her stomach
lurched in a familiar feeling of dread. What was wrong now? With
Henry gone, had they decided her fate too must be organised before
she became too much of a burden?

Robert gave a cough. “We thought you
should hear it from us, instead of through gossip in the dining
hall.”

“
Hear
what, sir?” Helena kept her face calm.

“
That
Lord Grey has been given a pardon,” Robert said, wincing as Alyce
gave her throaty laugh.

“
Hardly
given, Rob,” she snorted. “He paid forty thousand pounds for the
privilege.”

Helena closed her eyes and inhaled slowly.
Her initial excitement at the word “pardon” diminishing by the
second. “Even if Father came home tomorrow,” she said sighing. “We
could never raise such a sum to free him.”

“
There’s
more,” Alyce said, ignoring Robert’s frantic gestures to be quiet.
“Oh Robert, just get the tiresome business over with. She must be
told sometime.” She turned an eager expression back toward Helena.
“Edmund Prideaux and Nathanial Wade have also been
freed.”

Robert fiddled with his cravat, adding,
“They too have had to pay exorbitant fines that may well ruin
them.”

“
They
won’t be dead though, will they?” Helena offered a feeble smile. “I
cannot blame those two for surviving in any way they can. But I
still place my father’s fate, whatever that may be, at Lord Gray’s
door. He was one of the chief instigators.”

“
It does
seem very unfair.” Alyce tossed her elaborately curled head,
setting the woven ribbons on her headdress quivering. “When Lord
Grey attends court balls as if nothing had happened.”

“
Perhaps.” Helena fingered the lace at her sleeve, then
split a look between them as if the idea had that moment occurred
to her. “I should find a husband with the qualities required to run
my father’s business.”
Or what is left of it.

“
Not an
unachievable ambition, my dear,” Robert said carefully. “However,
you should not overlook your personal happiness.”

“
Security and position are what I need. To expect anything
else in my circumstances is somewhat self-indulgent, don’t you
think?”

“
Oh, as
for you being a social pariah, that will pass, my dear.” Alyce
waved her fan, though the fact she sat close enough to the fire for
orange flames to be reflected in her face paint struck Helena as
contradictory.

“
Monmouth had many detractors during his lifetime,” Alyce
went on. “However it appears his scandalous death has given him the
status of a martyr. Everyone I speak to regards you as someone
worth cultivating.”

Her attempt to tease a smile from Helena,
if that was what it was, failed miserably. “I’m still the daughter
of a fugitive rebel - alive or dead. I’m hardly good marriage
material.”

Before Robert could contradict her, she rose,
gave a polite curtsey and made for the door.

Despite her dramatic exit, Helena’s paused
outside the door, her back against the wall while she waited for
her rapid heartbeat to slow. Had she been too impulsive in her
decision to put practicality before happiness? A decision she had
made with bravado, false pride, and, she admitted to herself, some
bitterness. The only man she had met since her arrival in the
capital who had made her heart beat faster was William
Devereux.

Only a heavy curtain designed to stop
draughts separated her from the room where Robert and Alice’s
voices reminded her she had not closed the door.

“
Having
been fortunate enough to marry for love,” Robert said. “I cannot
help but advocate similar happiness for all my girls.”

“
Helena
is not your girl, Rob,” Alyce replied, though there was no
resentment in her voice, merely pragmatism. “You’re such a
sentimental creature. I’m certain she’ll see things differently
when an attractive young man comes along.”

“
Perhaps,” he replied. “Still, I am convinced such cold
practicality can only bring her more suffering. I hope, in time,
she will reconsider.”

Helena pushed herself away from the wall
and headed for the stairs. They would soon discover they had
another Phebe on their hands. A woman with a mind of her own who
made her own decisions.