Chapter 9

When Helen arrived back from the lake, Lady Helford had been even more irritable than usual. She was punishing Helen for disobeying her wishes and not accompanying her to the church that afternoon. As soon as she had entered the entrance hall, she had pounced on Helen and had immediately ordered her to remove her blue muslin dress. Helen was only too glad to don the dull grey uniform. The blue dress only served to remind her of the life that she could have led if she had accepted Ralph's offer. As she hung it in the small wardrobe in her bed-chamber, she felt as though she was closing the door on a part of her heart; a part she must keep shut away from the world.

She hoped that Ralph understood why she had to reject both his proposals. It would have been far too easy to accept his offer of marriage. To become his wife and live a life of luxury, not having to worry about the future, had been very tempting. It would have given her access to her son. And, it would have provided her with a chance to have some say over his future. However, Helen knew that this would have been a selfish dream.

She knew that he had been sincere when he had said to her that he loved her. However, Helen also knew, deep in her heart, that love would never be enough to sustain them throughout the years. It had not been enough when she had married Harry all those years ago and would not be enough now. He would soon be disappointed with her. He needed a young lady, unspoilt by the cares of this world and not tainted with scandal. It would have only been a matter of time before someone had recognised her. She could not risk being exposed to the shame of her past and bring his family name into disrepute. If he ever found out what she had done, he would, like everyone else, be horrified. Not even Tom knew the full extent of her shame.

In the drawing-room after dinner, Alice had come over and rescued her from Lady Helford's excessive demands. 'She is an old dragon,' Alice had whispered to her as they sat together on a chaise, listening to yet another poorly played Mozart concerto. 'Later tonight when the dragon in settled is her layer,' Alice then whispered in her ear, 'may I come to your room? I have something to show you.'

Later that night, just after midnight, Helen heard a gentle knock on the door of her bedchamber. She opened the door to find Alice and her maid, Phyllis, who was struggling under the weight of a rather large package and her sewing box, standing in the corridor. As she ushered them in, Helen immediately knew that Alice was hatching some scheme that involved her.

Once inside, Phyllis put the package, wrapped in brown paper, onto the bed and placed the sewing box on the floor.

'I brought Phyllis with me,' Alice said, smiling sweetly at Helen, 'I hope you don't mind.'

'Of course not,' Helen replied warily, noting the glint of mischief in her eyes.

'I was just wondering,' Alice said, smiling mischievously, 'what you intended to wear to the ball. Lady Huntingdon may be high in the instep, but I have to hand it to her, she does know how to organise a ball. She has told me that she has invited the whole neighbourhood. It certainly promises to be a grand affair.'

'My dove grey silk,' Helen said cautiously, 'I usually wear it when I accompany Lady Helford.'

Alice sighed. 'Helen,' she said, with mock gravity, 'I do not wish to sound rude, but that dress will never do.'

Helen looked over at the sewing box by Phyllis' feet and instantly guessed what Alice had planned. She was just about to refuse the offer before it had even been made when Alice pre-empted her. 'I know what you are going to say,' Alice said, putting on her most commanding air. 'You are going to make an excuse about being the old dragon's companion and that you could not possibly wear anything but that drab uniform she insists you wear every day. However, I will be your St George, and I will vanquish your enemy. I know how to slay that particular dragon,' Alice added confidently, as she pretended to wield a sword.

Alice then turned to Phyllis. 'Show Mrs Wakefield the burnt orange silk,' she said with a twinkle of excitement in her eyes, 'I think it will be perfect.'

Helen did not say anything as Phyllis undid the brown paper package that was tied with string and opened it stiff folds. As the maid shook out the material and laid it across the bed, Helen looked at the silk with a sense of awe.

'It is gorgeous, is it not?' Alice said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Helen was speechless. The silk was a rich, deep orange-red, that glimmered in the candlelight with a gold shimmer. Helen reached out and touched the delicate material. It was soft and smooth; just like the finest silk should be.

'I couldn't possibly wear this,' Helen eventually said, when her power of speech returned.

'Why ever not?' Alice said indignantly.

'It is far too expensive,' Helen replied.

'To be honest with you,' Alice said, her voice a whisper, 'I bought the silk on an impulse in Exeter on the way here. Phyllis did warn me at the time not to be so impulsive. She told me that the colour was far too bold for someone as fair as me. And, now I have had a chance to have another look at it; I tend to agree with her.'

'At the time, I did tell her ladyship that it would be a waste of money, but she wouldn't listen to me,' Phyllis said indignantly.

Phyllis then picked up the material and draped it over Helen's shoulder and directed her towards the cheval mirror, standing in the corner of the room.

As Helen looked at her reflection, she instantly saw that the material would indeed be perfect for her. The colour made the amber flecks in her eyes shine even brighter, and it also matched the rich mahogany brown of her hair

Phyllis soon got to work with her tape measure. 'Phyllis,' Alice said, as she looked on studiously. 'I think it should be a simple design without any fussy detail. The silk is so beautiful that it does not need any flounces or frills.'

'Yes, my lady,' the maid replied, 'I thought that a simple scooped neckline would be perfect.' As she spoke, she traced the proposed neckline with her finger across Helen's chest. 'Not too low, mind,' she added, 'Mrs Wakefield has such a lovely figure, my lady, and I think it would be best to hint at curves rather than having her assets on display for everyone to stare. I also have some lovely gold ribbon to trim the waistline.'

Alice nodded in agreement. 'That sounds perfect,' she said, as she looked critically at the scene before her.

When Phyllis had finished measuring Helen, she folded the silk, picked up the sewing box and left the bedchamber.

'Do you mind if I stay?' Alice said, 'it is so difficult to talk to you during the day with the old dragon constantly watching us.'

Helen shook her head and smiled. 'Not at all,' she replied, 'when I am alone, I tend to spend my time reading.'

The two women were soon sitting comfortably on Helen's bed with their heads propped up against the headboard and talking like they had been friends for years.

'Helen,' Alice said seriously, after a break in the conversation, 'I have missed two courses, and Phyllis is convinced it is because I am carrying a child.' As Alice spoke, she touched her abdomen.

'That is wonderful news,' Helen said, as she clasped Alice's hand, 'Tom must be so happy.'

Alice looked down at her lap, and Helen noticed a subtle change in the atmosphere. The usually outgoing Alice, who always seemed to be in control of the situation, was a little withdrawn. Alice shook her head. 'I haven't told him yet.'

'Why not?' Helen said softly, 'I know that he will be pleased.'

'It's not that,' Alice said, 'Helen, I'm frightened.'

Helen looked at the young woman and squeezed her hand sympathetically. 'What is frightening you?'

Alice took a deep breath. 'My mother died in childbirth. What if that happens to me?' she said sadly. 'I have found so much happiness with Tom. What if it is all taken away from me?'

Helen knew all too well the dangers that childbirth could bring, and she knew the fear one had for one's own life when carrying a child. She remained silent and continued to clasp Alice's hands in her own, sensing that the young woman wanted to say more.

'My father loved my mother,' she eventually said, 'when she died, he blamed me for her death.'

'How do you know he blamed you?' Helen replied.

'He never said anything to me directly; I just knew from the way he treated me.' Alice sighed and then continued. 'As soon as I was old enough, he sent me away to school and then when I was of age, he arranged a marriage to a man old enough to be my grandfather.'

'When my mother died, he changed,' she said bleakly. Helen looked at Alice and saw that all the traces of the fun-loving, confident woman she portrayed had vanished. 'What will happen to Tom if I die?' she said, 'will he become cold and distant like my father? I couldn't bear to think that my child would be alone like I was for all those years. I want so much better for them.'

Helen said nothing; she just listened sympathetically. To all the world, Alice was a confident young woman who knew her mind, but appearances were often deceptive. All you had to do was scratch the surface to find the hidden fears someone had tried to hide carefully. No one was untouched by the cares of the world.

'Just because your mother died in childbirth, does not necessarily mean that you will also die,' Helen began. She put her arm around Alice's shoulder to comfort her. They both relaxed and lay back on the bed with their shoulders still propped up on the headboard. Alice leant into Helen and put her head on her shoulder. 'My mother died having me, but I survived giving birth to my son. It wasn't easy, and the labour was difficult, but when I held Georgie in my arms for the first time, I knew it had all been worthwhile. Everyone else saw a small wrinkled pink object that wailed with an ear-piercing scream, but all I saw was my beautiful baby boy. I would have done anything for him. That is what it is like being a mother. You feel a love for your child that is so difficult to explain or rationalise: it's just there.'

Helen paused, then continued. 'When you see your little one for the first time, you will feel the same.'

They continued to lie side by side on the bed in companionable silence. Helen did not want to fill the silence with endless chatter. Childbirth was a dangerous time for a woman, and the thought of not making it through the labour was a fear that lurked in the back of most women's minds.

'You should tell Tom,' Helen eventually said, 'you need to talk to him about the way you feel. He is a good man, and I know he loves you.'

'Do you think he does?' Alice said weakly, 'he has never told me that he loves me.'

'Tom,' Helen said on a sigh. 'He may be a good man,' she said more to herself than to Alice, 'but he is also incredibly foolish.'

Alice looked up at Helen. 'Foolish?' she said puzzled.

'It is obvious to everyone how much he loves you. The way his eyes follow you around the room and the look he gives you when you enter a room is full of love. Trust me,' Helen said with feeling, 'he loves you; he may not have told you, but he does love you.'