Chapter 10

Helen had been given another afternoon off, and it had all been down to Alice's clever manipulation. Somehow, Alice had persuaded Lady Helford to join a party of guests to visit the famous cathedral in the nearby city of Exeter. Apparently, according to Alice, there would be no room in any of the carriages for her companion. To appease Lady Helford's displeasure, Alice had offered her services as her companion for the afternoon.

Helen was grateful for Alice's intervention. She would have liked to have seen the famous cathedral for herself, but an afternoon of solitude was a far more attractive prospect. Once Lady Helford was safely inside the carriage, Helen could, at last, relax and decide how she would spend her precious free time. Most of the other guests had decided to go on the outing, and she had no one to please but herself. She changed into her blue muslin dress and donned her straw bonnet and set out to walk to the nearby village.

It was a beautifully warm and sunny late summer afternoon. The sun's light was a rich, warm yellow, and its rays reflected off the ripe golden barley that shimmered as the gentle breeze sent glittering waves through its long stalks.

Once she had reached the outskirts of the village, she saw the impressive Norman church that towered over the nearby thatched cottages. It brought back memories of her childhood. Her father's parish church had almost been identical to this one and had undoubtedly been built at the same time.

As she walked up the pebble path that meandered its way through the graveyard, it felt like she had been transported back in time. Only the family names on the old grey gravestones near the entrance to the church were different.

She had not intended to walk to the church. She had just gone to the village to enjoy the sunshine and spent a little time by herself. However, now she was here; she could feel the voice of her past beckoning her inside. As she walked through the gabled porch, she was struck by the familiar musty smell that she always associated with her childhood. As she walked through the door, into the nave, she could hear the gentle tones of an organ being played. The soft but precise tune seemed familiar, and she realised that she must have heard it many times before.

Helen walked around the side of the nave and examined the memorials that were calling to the present the names of the past. Most of them bore the Fallbrook family crest, and the most ornate of these belonged to the previous Earl, who had died eleven years ago in 1809.

The church was cool. The heat of the late summer sunshine had failed to penetrate the medieval limestone walls. Helen sat down on one of the wooden pews. They had not been designed for comfort, but to prevent whoever sat down on them from drifting off into a daydream while the preacher delivered his lengthy homily.

She looked past the altar at the large arched stainless glass window that pointed in the direction of the rising sun. Even though it was mid-afternoon, and the sun no longer streamed through the glass, the light still illuminated the scene it depicted. Helen saw St Peter, the patron saint of the church, guarding the pearly gates with the keys clasped tightly in his hand.

As Helen sat quietly, listening to the atonal drone of the organ, she closed her eyes and was transported back into time. She could hear the voice of her father booming through the nave, reminding the congregation of their many sins. Her father had always used this place to put fear into the hearts of his flock. And, he had certainly succeeded with her.

Helen was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice that she was no longer alone.

'It's very peaceful,' she heard a familiar voice say.

She was somewhat taken aback when she saw Ralph sitting next to her. How could she not have heard him come into the church?

'I am sorry,' he said apologetically 'I did not mean to startle you.'

'I was just thinking about the past,' she said after a brief silence.

He did not answer her. He always seemed to be able to gauge her mood and did not fill the gaps in their conversation with unnecessary chatter. She always felt safe in his presence. She felt that she could tell him anything and that he would not use what she said to manipulate her feelings.

'My father's church was almost identical to this one,' she said at last. 'Sitting here, I could almost hear his voice.'

'I will go if you want to be alone,' he said gently.

Helen shook her head. 'No, don't go,' she said, looking at him. She was grateful for the company. If she stayed here by herself, she would only drift into a deep melancholy. It surprised her to discover that she would rather be with someone than be by herself.

They continued to sit in silence, neither of them feeling the necessity to talk.

'Is that memorial plaque in memory of your father,' she said, pointing at the plaque on the wall she had been examining earlier.

'Yes,' he said, 'he died unexpectedly eleven years ago. I was still at Oxford. At the time, I thought he would live forever.'

'How did he die?' Helen asked.

'As always, just like in life, my father caused a scandal when he died. He died in the arms of one of his mistresses. She was barely sixteen years old at the time, and the ensuing scandal almost killed my mother.'

'I think he always resented becoming the earl,' Ralph said quietly. 'He was the second son and had been looking forward to a career in the army. During the revolutionary wars in the Americas, he was a captain in the guards. He loved his life in the military, and I know it was very disappointing for him to have to give it all up when his older brother, and heir to the earldom, died suddenly in a hunting accident.' He pointed to a smaller memorial next to his father's. 'His name was also Ralph,' he said thoughtfully. 'My uncle had already been betrothed to my mother at the time when he died; both families could see no reason why a marriage could not take place between my father and my mother. My father was only four and twenty at the time and had been used to living his life outside the parameters of polite society. He found it very difficult to adjust to his new position, and unfairly resented his new bride for the restrictive nature of his new life.'

'As a child, I always remember the vicious and violent arguments they would have. He kept a string of mistresses and never even attempted to keep their existence hidden from my mother. That is why I don't understand why she wants to do the same to me. She is forcing me into a marriage and choosing the most unsuitable young women. Being happy, or even just content doesn't seem to matter to her, only the continuation of the family name.'

Helen had been listening quietly. Even though she still did not like Lady Huntingdon, she was beginning to understand her. She had, just like her, had an unhappy marriage to an unpredictable and often violent man. She also understood human nature. It was very difficult to break the cycle of mistreatment. Helen had seen it many times when she had travelled through the Peninsula with the army. She had often been amazed to find the victim would often become the bully.

'She just wants you to be happy,' Helen said in defence of Lady Huntingdon.

'You are probably correct,' Ralph said, with a sigh, 'but it doesn't make it any easier to understand.'

The organ music stopped, and she heard the organist's footsteps as they went down a wooden staircase and receded into the distance. Now, they were truly alone, and she felt the warmth of his hand as it enclosed her own. There was something very intimate in his touch that she found difficult to explain. She should withdraw and keep her distance, but at that moment, she felt closer to him than she had ever felt before.

Helen responded by squeezing his hand as they sat in the unworldly silence within the walls of the church. She felt that she owed him an explanation to why she had refused him. Yesterday, she had rejected his offer of marriage. She had told him that she had done "shameful and horrible things." And, that he would end up despising her, but she had to take that risk. She would not be able to tell him everything, she had been sworn to secrecy, but she was free to tell him part of her story.

'I owe you an explanation,' she said after they had sat in silence for some time. 'I want you to know why I refused your offer of marriage.'

She looked at him, her eyes steady and full of determination. 'Ralph, I will not change my mind; I just want you to know why I refused you.'

Ralph nodded and continued to hold her hand.

'Harry, my husband, was Lord Brentford's second son. He was a couple of years older than me, and we grew up together. When we were children, we used to play together in the churchyard. He was a fun-loving boy who used to get himself into all sorts of mischief. When he went away to school, I missed him terribly. He didn't get on well with his father or older brother, and he rarely came home for the holidays. I did not see him again until I was sixteen years old, and he was nineteen.'

Helen sighed at the memory. 'I was terribly lonely. My father kept a strict eye on my movements, and I was not encouraged to make friends. Harry had also changed. He was no longer the boy I had once known; he was a tall and handsome man, and I immediately fell in love with him.'

'We soon became more than just playmates. I believed him when he told me he loved me. He awoke feelings in me that I have never experienced before. I had lived such a sheltered life, and I had no idea what my actions would lead to. For the first time in my life, I felt alive.'

'Then, one afternoon, just before he was due to leave to join his regiment, he took me to a deserted cottage. It started innocently enough, but it soon escalated out of my control. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but I did not know how to go about stopping it. I voiced my concerns and told him to stop, but he did not take them seriously. He just laughed and told me that if I loved him, I would let him continue.'

'In my naïve young mind, I thought I loved him, and all I wanted to do was please him, so I put my conscience to one side and let him continue.' Helen felt Ralph's hand tighten around hers, and she could sense his anger.

'He ravished you, against your will,' Ralph said softly, 'if he was still alive, I'd kill him.'

'Don't judge him too harshly,' Helen said, 'he was gentle and tried not to hurt me too much. I have to believe, at that moment when we were joined in intimacy, that he held an affection for me.'

'It was still rape,' he said, 'being gentle does not negate the fact that he ravished you against your will.'

Helen shook her head, and a tear escaped down her cheek. He was right. She had never thought of it like that before. She had always believed that because she had allowed him to kiss her and touch the most secret and intimate parts of her feminine body, that he had every right to take her maidenhood. He may not have physically forced her, but he had dismissed her rejection of his advances out of hand.

The fact that after the initial pain and discomfort she had enjoyed the intimacy and the feeling of elation was irrelevant. She had always felt that her body had betrayed her that day. Surely, if she had not wanted him to make love to her, she would have responded differently. She would have lain still and not felt the deep warmth that built up inside her with every stroke. She would not have put her arms around his neck and drawn him closer. It did not matter that her body had responded to his touch; he had entered her without her consent.

'A few days later, he left to join his regiment and not long afterwards, I discovered I was with child. I wrote to him several times but received no reply. As the weeks passed, I knew I had to do something. Eventually, when I could hide it no longer, I told my father.' Helen looked across the church towards the altar. She could still remember her father's reaction to her disclosure as though it had happened yesterday.

She felt Ralph squeeze her hand. 'My father was an extremely pious man. I knew he would be angry with me, but nothing had prepared me for the violence of his reaction. After he punished me, he locked me in my room for days. I was frightened, and I had no idea what was going to happen to me.'

Helen had not fully revealed the horror of what had happened that day. Somethings were far too painful to bring to the forefront of her memory and were best left unsaid. She had suffered violence before at the hands of her father. However, that day, it had been far worse than anything she had experienced before. He had put all his anger and wrath into every stroke of the cane across her bareback. The fear that she would lose the baby dwarfed the humiliation she suffered. The sharp pains she experienced in her abdomen would live on in her memory for the rest of her life.