A Marriageable Miss. Dorothy Elbury
Читать онлайн книгу.
were involved in the frantic round of assemblies, routs and concert parties, Helena, for two consecutive years, had been in deep mourning and, apart from the occasional morning visits to the few close friends that she had acquired, all social activities had been, necessarily, curtailed. Even after the arrival of her cousin Charlotte, it had been only on the rarest of occasions that her father could be persuaded to pay a visit to the theatre and—unless one chose to count the twice-yearly country dances that were held in the hall of the village where her Uncle Daniels was rector—Helena’s total experience of assemblies had been limited to the rather sedate functions given by one of her father’s business acquaintances.
As it happened, although she had no intention of apprising Lady Isobel of this particular aspect of her life, she and her cousin spent most of their mornings helping out at a soup kitchen just off Chelsea’s Cheyne Walk. Following her beloved brother’s tragic death, Helena had found herself deeply affected by the sight of the scores of destitute and badly maimed ex-servicemen who roamed the streets of the capital at the end of the war. Consequently, when Jenny Redfern, who was sister to the Wheatleys’ family physician, had first told her about the ambitious scheme that she and a few like-minded friends were in the process of setting up in the basement of a disused chapel in Justice Walk, Helena had instantly offered her support and services to the project. Since then, both she and Lottie had taken on the task of helping out at the soup kitchen in accordance with the necessarily tight rota that the sisterhood had drawn up.
Uncomfortably aware that the countess was still awaiting an answer to her query regarding the conduct of her grandson, Helena cast around for what she thought might be considered a suitable reply.
‘I am sure that Lord Markfield has been everything that is proper, your ladyship,’ she managed eventually.
‘And yet you are still far from happy with the situation, are you not?’ persevered the countess, eyeing her visitor closely.
‘None of it is of my choosing,’ admitted Helena, tentatively testing the water. ‘But, as my father has no doubt informed you, he is most anxious to see me settled and I, for my part, have no wish to cause him displeasure.’
The dowager gave her a perceptive look and nodded. ‘How does your father do, child? I understand that he has Thomas Redfern in attendance?’
Helena nodded and gave a slight smile. ‘He tells me that my father is progressing favourably, ma’am,’ she replied. ‘We hope that he will be back on his feet in a matter of weeks.’
‘During which time I imagine that you will be keen to ensure that he is not discommoded in any way?’
‘That is why I am here, ma’am.’
Helena held her breath, waiting for the expected castigation, which, to her surprise and considerable relief, did not ensue. Instead, the countess studied her in silence for some minutes before nodding her head once more.
‘Exactly as I supposed, my dear. And now, it would seem, it is time for both of us to lay our cards on the table.’
At Helena’s puzzled expression, she leaned forwards in a conspiratorial manner, saying, ‘I do believe that you and I will deal very nicely together, Miss Wheatley—I take it that I may call you Helena?’ Without waiting for her visitor’s answering nod, she went on, ‘No doubt we each of us have our own agenda but, as I see it, the plain facts of the matter appear to be that we are doing our best to stave off our creditors for the moment and—correct me if I am wrong—you are intent upon avoiding an unwelcome marriage.’
‘Any sort of marriage, actually,’ said Helena, gazing at the countess in bewilderment.
At her interruption, Lady Isobel waved her hand dismissively. ‘Either way, I believe that we can still serve each other’s purpose perfectly well. Unless I am much mistaken, it seems abundantly clear to me that, despite your father’s continued efforts to secure you a husband, you, my gel, have been doing your level best to bring about the failure of these plans.’ She cast Helena a penetrating glance. ‘Would you agree that this is a reasonable appraisal of the situation?’
Her cheeks turning pink, Helena gave a reluctant nod. ‘It is true that I tried to discourage them, but—’ At her hostess’s quelling frown, she checked herself. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am, pray continue!’
‘Humph! I can see that I shall have my work cut out!’ retorted the dowager. ‘However, notwithstanding all the various rumours that have circulated since your father set upon this course of action, I must admit to being not a little curious to hear your side of the tale. How, for instance, did you come to throw your wine over Barrington?’
With great reluctance, Helena related once again the events that had led to that particular suitor’s dismissal. Following which, finding herself unable to parry the countess’s close questioning, she was then obliged to divulge the various ploys that she had used to extricate herself from the previous two suitors for her hand.
The first candidate to fancy his chances at securing the Wheatley fortune had been the thirty-five-year-old Viscount Farley, whose approach to hygiene left a great deal to be desired. Both soap and water were, it seemed, complete strangers to his toilette; instead, he preferred to douse his person with an overabundance of the highly pungent patchouli oil. In addition, due to his nauseating habit of taking great pinches of snuff throughout the entire day, every one of his neckcloths, shirtfronts and handkerchiefs was permanently stained with an unappealing yellowish tint. Fortunately for Helena, Mr Wheatley, having found that his daughter’s objections were entirely justified, had himself been quite willing to give that gentleman his congé.
Hard on Farley’s heels had come the foppish and appallingly henpecked Sir Percival Arnold, who had been bullied into putting his name forward by his impecunious widowed mother, an arrogant and overbearing woman possessed of remarkably poor taste and even worse manners. Regrettably, for Helena, the overly fastidious Sir Percy had proved somewhat more difficult to detach, due to his mother’s constant vigilance.
However, since Lady Arnold’s idea of introducing the Wheatleys into society had proved to be limited to inviting them to attend her dreary card parties, at which most of the guests seemed to be as socially unconnected as was their hostess, Helena had, eventually, been able to persuade her father that it was clear that no amount of consorting with the Arnolds was ever going to be likely to serve his original purpose. Mr Wheatley, who had been less than happy to have to dismiss yet another petitioner, had been placated only by his daughter pointing out that, at least, he would no longer be obliged to suffer Lady Arnold’s outrageously patronising remarks. And so, much to his mother’s shocked indignation, Sir Percy, too, had been given his marching orders.
The slightly questionable events to which her most recent suitor had taken her had done nothing to increase her regard for the so-called ‘upper classes’ and had merely borne out her belief that its members were decidedly lacking in decorum. Furthermore, she was well aware that her mother, had she lived, would have been less than happy to have permitted her daughter to attend such affairs.
Unfortunately, although Mr Wheatley’s subsequent disbelief and outrage, when confronted with the result of Viscount Barrington’s scandalous behaviour, was more than sufficient to eradicate the earlier disappointments from his memory, it also seemed to have the effect of making him more determined than ever to achieve his goal.
‘Hence your father’s determination to draw up this contract that Markfield has described to me, I take it?’ nodded the countess, when the now highly embarrassed Helena’s reluctant explanations came, at last, to a close. ‘Well then, in the furtherance of your own strategy, it surely goes without saying that my grandson’s presence at your side will be more than sufficient to shield you from the unwanted attentions of any other would-be suitor. Therefore, if you agree to have Markfield escort you to some of this Season’s more prestigious events, I will take it upon myself to sponsor your début into society.’
Helena’s brow furrowed. ‘It is very good of your ladyship,’ she faltered. ‘But I fail to see why you should wish to concern yourself with my difficulties.’
The