The Rebel’s Daughter (26 page)

William turned a laugh into a cough and
beside him, Helena resisted the urge to ask Henry if this procedure
had been as painful as it sounded. Instead, she observed how pretty
the Newman’s” daughter was. Henry blushed, refusing to look at the
subject of his embarrassment.

“
Well,
do acquaint us with her, Henry,” Celia urged, appearing in the
middle of his embarrassed stammering.

Left with no choice, but to present his
patron’s daughter to his employer’s, Henry acted with grace and
dignity, but also a good deal of stammering.

While these niceties were being observed,
Helena’s gaze slid to an elderly gentleman, who appeared to be
giving a lecture to a group of enthralled guests in the middle of
the room. Clothed in black, with a long ebony periwig on top of a
narrow face, he spoke in a braying voice, his heavy-lidded eyes
displaying tired cynicism.

“
Who’s
that serious-looking man over there, Celia?” Helena tilted her fan
toward him.

“
That,
is Master John Evelyn, Commissioner of the Privy Seal,” Celia
whispered. “The short, plump person with spaniel eyes sitting
beside him is Master Samuel Pepys, the Secretary to the Admiralty.”
With a sigh added, “they’re both quite old, but have some
fascinating stories of their youth at the court of the old
King.”

“
My
Uncle Edmund worked for Master Pepys, many years ago.” Helena said,
exchanging a look with William, who gave a slow nod, evidently
impressed.

Celia”s eyes flew open in surprise. “I had
no idea, Helena, how interesting!”

“
He
looks very proud.” Helena said in a stage whisper.

“
Master
Pepys?”

“
No,
Master Evelyn. He appears to be well respected man judging by the
crowd he has gathered round him.”

“
He was
a close friend of the late King, and therefore has a lot of
influence at Court.” Celia took her arm and guided her closer.
“Godfrey Kneller painted his portrait, which is something of a
privilege, as that gentleman only deigns to paint people of
consequence.”

“
A
gentleman painter?” Helena smiled, knowing all about Master
Kneller; but Celia”s way of describing people was so
entertaining.

“
Simply,
a gentleman who paints.” William smirked at her from her other
side. “That particular one will paint himself into a knighthood, if
I am not mistaken.”

“
He
would never paint me, William, I am far too lowly.” Celia giggled.
“I believe Master Evelyn is not overly fond of His Majesty, due to
his favouring of Papists.”

“
Why is
that?” Helena asked, liking Master Evelyn immediately.

“
He was
distressed to hear of King Charles’s deathbed conversion to
Catholicism, albeit it was only a rumour.” Celia”s voice dropped
conspiratorially. “Though to be anti-Papist is hardly news. It
applies to almost everyone in this room.” She gave a derisive
laugh. “As for his attire, he’s in mourning for two daughters he
lost this year from the smallpox.”

“
Two
daughters? Oh, how sad for him.” Helena felt immediate sympathy,
his loss reminding her of her own.

Celia sighed. “Mary, the elder, was a
lovely creature. She was to have been one of the Queen’s
ladies.”

Helena watched William hail some friends on
the other side of the hall.

“
Evelyn’s a nice old soul,” he whispered, his breath warm on
her face. “Though quite a dry stick. I’ll offer the compliments of
the season when I have consumed a deal more wine.” he dropped a
swift kiss on her hand, and she stared at the tiny creases in front
of his ear. “I beg your indulgence, Mistress Woulfe.” His wig
brushed her cheek and sent a frisson down her back. She watched him
walk away, her face flushing, and distracted enough that she had to
ask Celia to repeat her question.

“
…
I asked, would you like me to introduce
you?”

“
To
Master Evelyn?” Helena frowned, trying to recover her composure.
“No, I don’t think…”

However, at that moment, the man himself
glanced in their direction. “Ah. The elder of Master Devereux’s
delightful daughters,” he called out, beckoning with a feminine
hand. “The pride of Lambtons. How are you, my dear?” He made an
ostentatious flourish.

“
I am
well, sir. Do allow me to present Helena Woulfe, Master Evelyn.
Helena, Master John Evelyn.”

The elderly courtier bowed over Helena’s
hand. “My good friend Robert has spoken of you, my dear, but he
skimped disgracefully on the details.” His hooded eyes sparkled
with amusement.

Helena
’s surprise must have shown on her
face, for he added, “London is a village, Mistress Woulfe,
everything is known here.” Still moving languorously, he waved a
hand in a small circle as if to include her in the conversation.
“We were discussing the worsening plight of the Huguenots, since
King Louis revoked the Edict of Nantes.” He gazed around at the
small crowd of enthralled onlookers. “Abhorring the fact that
Protestant churches are being demolished all over France, and that
whole families are being imprisoned, and libraries
burnt.”

“
I, too
have heard of it, sir,” Helena said, watching Alyce sidle up to
Evelyn and flutter her eyelashes.

“
The
persecution is barbaric, but the
London Gazette
remains silent on the subject. All
intelligence comes to me by my friends or through letters; such a
strange state of affairs, I find, for what is still a Protestant
Country. Should we not all be up in arms on behalf of our French
neighbours?” He held his slender hands palm upwards as if inviting
her opinion.

Alyce spoke instead, her fan flapping.
“Now we have a Catholic King and Queen, do you anticipate such
persecution will cross the Channel, Master Evelyn?”

Celia glared at her mother, and two
elderly ladies gasped in horror, leaning on their companions for
support, while the gentlemen murmured darkly.

“
Protestantism in France is not the same as Anglicanism, my
dear.” Evelyn placed a finger to his cheek as he considered the
question. “Huguenots follow the beliefs of John Calvin, who states
God has willed the majority of men to eternal
damnation.”

“
…
which some of them richly deserve,” Robert interjected,
creating a ripple of nervous laughter through the small
circle.

Helena glanced sideways to see William
walk by, an attractive red-haired woman on his arm, but his gaze
held Helena’s. Embarrassed he had caught her looking at him, she
turned away quickly.

“
Master
Calvin thought so, too.” Evelyn gestured to a passing server to
bring him a glass of wine. “However, they do not discover if they
have lived righteous enough lives to become God’s elect, until they
die.”

“
What
would be the purpose of living a virtuous life, if it avails us
nothing?” Alyce sniffed. “A thankless religion, to my
mind.”

“
Catholic doctrine states a priest can grant direct entry to
Heaven, and has the ear of God.” Helena said, summoning her
courage. “Little wonder then the French king has made Calvinism
illegal, when such doctrine strips his church of its
power.”

Master Evelyn’s admiring stare joined
several others, who seemed less than impressed that a woman had
dared to venture an opinion. Aware of the close scrutiny of those
around her, Helena dared not turn her head to see if William was
among them.

The conversation was noisily broken by a
group of performers who turned summersaults and threw painted
wooden hoops into the air. Cries of delight replaced bemused stares
when one held a flaming wand, and appeared to swallow
it.

When the jugglers dispersed to entertain
another group, Helena found herself isolated at the side of the
room beside Mr Evelyn.

He inclined his head, one hand cupped
beneath his chin. “I knew Monmouth quite well you know, my dear. I
thought him a lovely person, handsome, and of an easy nature. That
he should be so debauched and greedy as to allow himself seduced by
crafty knaves was his tragedy, when he had so much already.” With a
final low bow, he moved off into the crowd.

Helena rose from her returning curtsey
with her gaze on his retreating back, murmuring, “he was the
craftiest knave of them all.”

Chapter
16

Dinner was served in the largest
of the dining halls
; it sparkled with light from a thousand candles. The
Devereuxs and their guests listened attentively to William recount
his tour of far-off countries, with their impressive architecture,
bad roads, intractable foreigners, and unbearably hot
weather.

When the time came, Henry was given the
honour of making the first cut to the Christmas cake, with a
flourish amid loud clapping. He was so handsome in a new suit and
with a flattering wig in his natural hair colour. Helena looked at
the young girls who gathered round him to receive the first slices.
She examined each face, but Mary Ann Newman’s was not among
them.

On discovering the pea in her slice,
Helena’s instinct was to remain silent. However, Celia spotted the
damning item on her plate, and loudly declared her to be Queen of
the Revels. The announcement was greeted with roaring
applause.

Helena reluctantly took her place on the
decorated chair, her throne, while William clapped with enthusiasm.
When the “King” proved to be John Evelyn, he pleaded his age and
constitution as being inadequate to the position, so William, amid
loud catcalls and suggestive laughter, stepped forward and begged
to be Helena’s champion.

“
I have
never been Queen of Revels.” Helena whispered. “What do I
do?”

“
Simply
follow my lead.” William’s broad wink made Helena’s cheeks flame
even hotter.

The evening grew more raucous as time went
on, with the performance of outrageous tasks meted out by the
“King” and “Queen”. Four serving men carried Helena round the room
on a makeshift litter. Celia had to polish the buckles on Helena’s
shoes, then a simpering young woman, whom Phebe insisted was the
mistress of someone important at Court, followed William around the
room with his gloves on a silver tray.

As dawn light crept through windows rimed
with a crisp frost, Lambtons emptied of revellers, who lurched out
to waiting carriages and sedans into a street that echoed to
drunken greetings and compliments of the Season.

Alyce surveyed with dismay the discarded
wine glasses, ribbons and food leftovers on every
surface.

“
Leave
it for the servants to clear up in the morning,” Robert said,
dismissing the yawning serving staff to their beds. “It is no more
than the mark of a successful Twelfth Night!” he announced
happily.

Drooping with exhaustion, Helena was about
to follow their example, when William appeared at her shoulder.
“Allow me to escort you to your chamber, Mistress Woulfe.” His
words slurred into near incomprehension.

Inwardly thrilled, Helena doubted he could
see her properly, with such unfocussed eyes.

“
The
bottom of the stairs would be quite adequate, sir,” She replied,
her hand held out toward him, palm downwards.

“
Ah, too
forward? Do forgive me.” William took her hand in his and turned it
over, planting a lingering, yet firm kiss on her palm.

The effort to remain upright became too much
and he staggered to one side, caught by a hovering footman who
twirled him around and supported him up the stairs. When they
finally reached top, William waved an unsteady arm in farewell and
blew her a dramatic kiss over his shoulder.

“
William
is so amusing.” Celia laughed, tucking her arm through
Helena’s.

Helena didn’t reply, bemused to discover
she felt the warm imprint of his kiss on her hand all the way up to
her room.

* * *

Leaden skies gave way to snow,
which swirled into doorways and drifted down the wider
chimneys
.
Venturing beyond the firesides was an unwelcome ordeal.

On a particularly frigid dark
afternoon, Samuel
Ffoyle’s carriage rolled to a halt on the cobbles outside
the inn.

Helena watched his arrival from the window
in Celia”s room. “I did not expect him until Spring. Are not the
roads treacherous at this time of year?”

Celia shrugged. “Maybe he has some
important business requiring his attention.”

“
Perhaps.” Frowning, Helena grabbed her shawl and hurried
outside as Samuel alighted from the carriage. Tall and imposing as
ever in his city peruke, he had the remains of a frown on his face,
as if he had been berating some unfortunate commoner.