The Baron and the Bluestocking (15 page)

“You will be able to meet the baron for yourself. He comes down here in a day or two.”

“For what reason? Is he courting you?”

“I think he must be. It is very odd, however, because he is excessively handsome, and I feel not the least attraction for him.”

“That is odd, indeed.” Her look reminded Hélène of a child with a secret.

“What are you thinking?” she said.

“Can it be that your affections are engaged elsewhere?”

Hélène felt herself blush and grow hot. She bent to her task of unpacking her new gowns.

“I am right, am I not? There is someone else. Please tell me it is not Samuel.”

“Whyever not?”

“Samuel is like a brother to you. He would not make you blush.”

Hélène thought that after all she might like a confidante. Sitting on the bed, she kneaded her hands. “You must give me your word that you will tell no one.”

“You can rely on me, Hélène. I will keep your secret.”

Letting out a small sigh, she looked at her friend whose face was full of interest. “Nothing can come of it, Beth. But it is horribly inconvenient.”

“You are so dreadfully practical. Tell me.”

“Lord Shrewsbury. There is an attraction between us. A strong one. But both of us are determined to fight it. He does not find me a suitable wife, and I would not find him a suitable husband. He scorns my ideas.”

Beth sat down next to her on the bed, and, putting and arm around her, gave her a hug. “Oh, Hélène. Do not be so quick to dismiss your feelings. And whatever you do, do not enter into another engagement before you get them sorted out. It would be a huge mistake.”

“He thinks me beneath him, Beth.”

“Give him a chance, dear. Men are so logical, they get knocked into a hat when their feelings take them by surprise.”

Hélène looked into her friend’s face. “How do you know so much about men, then?”

Now it was Beth’s turn to appear flustered. “I have a curate. It appears hopeless, as we both have nothing to live on. But we have made up our minds to wait until he comes into a living. It could be years. It is very hard, and not what either of us wanted to happen. But love has many compensations.”

Hélène unbent and put both arms around her friend. “Oh, Beth. I hope he may get a living sooner than you think! But I will miss you dreadfully when you leave.”

“Perhaps you will leave first, my dear. What with Samuel, Lord Delacroix, and the delectable Lord Shrewsbury.”

Hélène said, “Do not be romantic about this. I do not even like Lord Shrewsbury. How can I love him?”

*~*~*

Hélène’s orphans seemed very happy to have her back, which pleased her very much. The routine of teaching was soothing to her upbraided emotions. The simple meals and the comradeship she enjoyed with Beth, Catherine, and Mary almost replaced the association she had enjoyed with the duke and duchess. She was surprised she did not miss Lady Virginia overmuch, considering all the time they had spent in each other’s company.

Her craving for Lord Shrewsbury’s company, even with all its irritations, did not lessen one whit, however. She had to force herself to give her mind to Samuel when he called on her the evening after her return.

“My, you look fine in your new clothes! What do you think? Are they not an improvement?”

“Even I can see that they are. It is a new experience to feel comfortable in my jacket. Shrewsbury took me to Weston, you know. Even I have heard that he is the best to be had.”

“How does your campaign go?”

“Very well. The speech you vetted for me went over well. I need to write something about the Corn Laws, which is quite a sticky issue with landlords. But I have not come to talk to you about that. You must tell me about your time in London.”

“It was a new experience for me. I enjoyed myself, but I am glad to be back in my real life. I do not believe I am suited for idleness.”

“But I thought you were to give a speech to the board of the orphanage.”

“I did that, and it went over reasonably well. The duke prodded me to speak about the importance of education for women, and the idea invoked mixed reactions, as you can imagine.”

She told him of her visit to Hatchard’s, the books she had purchased, and her visit to the British Museum. Hélène avoided discussing Lord Delacroix, Vauxhall Gardens, and the ball she had attended.

When she had finished, Samuel said, “So do you think you could bear to live in London for part of the year?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Of course, I am going about this all wrong. The fact is, the Tory candidate is standing down. He has a heart problem and is quite ill. It looks as though I will win the election.”

Real pleasure suffused her and she held out her hands to him seated beside her on the sofa. “Samuel, that is brilliant! I am so happy for you!”

“Should you like to be married to an MP with a good tailor?”

At that moment, Mrs. Blakeley’s butler announced Lord Delacroix, who appeared larger than life, dressed in black with white linen. He instantly dominated the room.

Hélène rose and went to greet him. “My lord, how pleasant to see you.” She gave him her hand, which he kissed. She stifled a wince. What must Samuel think?

“Baron Delacroix, may I introduce you to my great friend, Samuel Blakeley? Samuel, this is my acquaintance from London, Lord Delacroix.”

Delacroix looked at her, an eyebrow raised. Clearly the distinction between “great friend” and “acquaintance” was not lost on him.

Samuel, evidently recovering from the interruption, was holding out a hand. Delacroix took it in a far from enthusiastic handshake.

“What brings you to our little town?” asked Samuel.

“I am to be educated,” Delacroix said.

“Educated?” Samuel asked.

“Miss Whitcombe-Hodge had to cut her visit to London short because of her employment, so we were unable to pursue the philosophic and social debates she promised. I have followed her here so that she may perhaps convince me to become an enthusiastic Whig rather than a half-hearted Tory.”

Samuel appeared bemused. He looked from Hélène to Delacroix, but appeared far from crushed. “I say, that is sporting of you. We can use another voice in the Lord’s.”

“Miss Whitcombe-Hodge deigns to believe I might be of some use.”

“Well, she is very well informed and needs none of my help, so I will leave the two of you to your first debate. I live in my own house just down the road. Anyone can tell you where it is. Feel free to call on me during the time Miss Whitcombe-Hodge is occupied at the school. There’s excellent fishing to be had nearby. Also, if you’ve a mind, I can take you on a tour of our woolen mill. It is very socially enlightened, I am proud to say, and still manages to bring in a good profit.”

Taking up his high crowned beaver and gloves from the table, he said to Hélène, “Good luck!” Then he was gone, leaving her alone with her suitor. She wondered if she had imagined his proposal.

Delacroix put his own hat and gloves on the occasional table where Samuel’s had been.

“I did not expect to see you so soon,” Hélène said.

“There was nothing to keep me in London.”

“How is Lady Virginia?”

“She does well. Still seeing Shrewsbury every day, so that looks promising.”

Hélène sat down suddenly. “Do you expect him to offer for her?”

“He is not showing interest in anyone else,” the baron said. “So it seems likely. Ginny would make him an admirable wife.”

“I am certain she would.” Hélène forced the words out.

Her preoccupation with Shrewsbury made it difficult for her to think about anything of importance. “How was your journey?”

“Long. It would not have been tolerable had I not had such a worthwhile object, or should I say subject, in view. To tell you the truth, Miss Whitcombe-Hodge, I have been able to think of little else but you since we last met.” He seated himself across from her in a wing-backed chair, leaning forward toward her, his elbows resting on his knees.

She could not match his eagerness. Looking at the clock on the mantle, she saw that it had gone nine o’clock.

“Well, it is far too late to begin a discussion tonight. I know by fashionable standards it is early, but I must be up with the rooster in the mornings to oversee breakfast at the orphanage. Then I have classes from eight o’clock until noon.”

“Are you free for luncheon?”

“I usually eat with the girls.” She twisted her hands in her lap.

“And after luncheon?”

“We have story time for an hour. Then outdoor games until three.”

“At what time will you be free?” he asked, a frown between his brows.

“After three o’clock I travel back here. Our school is in the countryside.” Why was she so worried by this man? “I think it would be wonderful if you could see what we are doing. You are free to come to the school anytime during the day.”

“I would enjoy that,” he said, his frown lightening.

“I must warn you, however, that the seats and the desks are fashioned for frames far smaller than yours!” She stood, hoping to depart for her bedroom. “Is the inn comfortable?”

Standing, he walked to her and took her hands in his. “It is comfortable, but lonely.” Before she could dodge him, he brought his lips down on hers. The kiss was demanding, but drew no response from her. Hélène could not help comparing this lack of sensation with the overpowering warmth and desire she had felt when merely dancing with Lord Shrewsbury. He had awakened every one of her senses.

Delacroix obviously noticed her failure to respond to him. “Do you love another, Hélène?” he asked, looking into her eyes as though he could see the truth there.

Grasping at the excuse, she murmured, “Yes,” and looked down at their clasped hands.

He let go of her. “Never mind. I will have a go at making you forget him.”

Giving a weak smile, she said, “Good night, Lord Delacroix. I look forward to seeing you at the school tomorrow.”

As she lay in bed next to Beth that night, she considered all that had happened that day.
Samuel had proposed!
She felt none of the gratification she had supposed she would. She still did not know if what Lord Shrewsbury had said was true—that Samuel did not intend to forward her cause in Parliament. And she must visit her sisters, and also consider the possibility that Lord Delacroix might propose and what that would mean.

Her mind and heart did not want to deal with any of these issues. Instead, they played the delicious waltz over again and again in her mind. She slept only fitfully.

*~*~*

During Hélène’s reading class, Lord Delacroix made his appearance. She was taking delight at how unexpectedly bright several of the girls were at sounding out the words in their primers when he strode in. Every head turned.

“Cor! It’s a toff!” Emily said under her breath.

“Students, this is Lord Delacroix, a friend of mine from London who has come to visit the school.”

“Is ya gonna marry ‘im?” Lexie asked.

Lord Delacroix spoke. “I hope so.”

Feeling cornered, Hélène said, “Let us return to our work.” She walked to the back of the room where her unwelcome visitor stood and handed him one of the primers. “We are on page three, if you would like to follow along, my lord.”

Each girl tried to sound out a simple word. Hélène allowed herself to become absorbed in her teaching once more. The time flew by. Encouraged by her pupils’ observable progress, she followed them in the direction of the dining room. Lord Delacroix brought himself once again to her notice, by offering her his arm. She hung back a bit so she could speak to him out of the girls’ hearing.

“I’m so encouraged. This is the first day they have actually sounded out words. It is like magic. They are truly reading!”

“Congratulations,” he said mildly.

“If you could have but seen them when they arrived—bundles of rags, matted lice-infected hair. I swear they’d never bathed in their lives. I couldn’t understand one word in ten of their speech, and they were very suspicious. It took several days, I think, for them to truly realize we were not going to sell them into slavery.”

“Such things do happen.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” They had arrived in the dining room, and the girls were already eating bread and thick vegetable soup.

“They are actually getting blossoms in their cheeks,” Hélène said with satisfaction.

“I can see that you are doing really valuable work here,” he said. “What a pity it cannot be done on a larger scale.”

Still looking at the girls, she said, “This is by way of being an experiment. We hope to find employment for all of the older girls by next autumn. Then, if we are successful, Lord Shrewsbury hopes to bring in another group of girls and we will do it all again.”

“Lord Shrewsbury? This is his project?”

“Yes. I give him the credit for thinking of educating the girls. There are five patrons in all, however.” She looked up at him with a smile. “We are always looking for more.”

“I like to see you smiling. For much of the time you are far too serious.”

Her smile faded. “Life is a serious business, Lord Delacroix. Especially for the poor.”

“I brought a picnic with me from the inn. Shall we go outside and eat in that orchard next to the school? I even brought a rug. Then you can commence to tell me about the poor.”

“That would be a nice change of scene. But I only have an hour, remember.”

Over luncheon, she decided to enlighten the baron about her true circumstances in the hope that the reality might dim his desire for her to be his wife. Shrewsbury at least had seen the impossibility of a baron having such a wife as she, who would not have the first idea how to go about in society.

“The reason I am so passionate about the poor, my lord, is because I am one of them. My father was a vicar, and when he died earlier this year, he left my mother and my seven brothers and sisters and me destitute. I do not mean in genteel poverty, I mean hungry. Starving. We were eating what we could scavenge in the countryside. My brothers even took to poaching.”

Spreading goose liver paté on his bread, he said nothing for a few moments. When he had eaten the morsel, he said, “Who is responsible for the happy ending? For you being here in this school, doing what you love?”