The Baron and the Bluestocking (16 page)

“My father’s living was given him by the Duke of Ruisdell. The duke and duchess were in London all winter and did not know the severity of our circumstances, but the duchess knew us to be in want of employment. She also knew I had been very well educated by my father. That was my inheritance, if any. In a roundabout way, the duchess brought me to the attention of Lord Shrewsbury and Lady Clarice Manton. They hired me.”

“And what of your brothers and sisters?”

“They are all younger than me, but my brothers have all managed to find employment. Until recently, I was supporting my sisters, who live in Chipping Norton in a rooming house.”

“And what happened to change that?”

Hélène bit into an apple. She took her time chewing. All this discussion of her plight was necessary if she was to make the baron understand her feminist views, but that did not keep it from being distasteful.

“Lord Shrewsbury brought it to the duke’s attention. Because of my father’s service and, I suspect, because of some outdated feudal notions, he is giving me a stipend to support them.” She absently twisted the stem of her apple. “I am educating them to be governesses when they are old enough.”

“Lord Shrewsbury seems to have played a big part in your life, one way and another,” he said. Hélène detected an edge to his voice.

“He was heaven sent, I believe.” Breaking off a piece of bread from a crusty loaf, she said, “What I would like you to understand is that I would have been unemployable, except as the meanest servant, were it not for the education I received from my father. He got a first in Classics at Oxford. My sisters need more education if they are to be employed as governesses, as well.”

“So am I to understand that is why you are so dedicated to educating your orphans?”

“More than that. I want my voice heard in Parliament as an advocate of women. We are at such a disadvantage in today’s society that, even if educated, our options are few.”

He refilled his wine glass. “What options do you think should be open to women, then?”

“It is my belief that many women’s intellects are equal to those of men. If they were allowed into the colleges, they could read law or medicine. Literate women should be allowed the vote, should be able to stand for Parliament to help make the laws they have to live under. They should not be chattel to their husbands. Their wealth should continue to be their own when they marry . . .”

“Miss Whitcombe-Hodge, you quite take my breath away,” the baron said, laughing. “You really cannot believe a male Parliament will ever pass such legislation!”

“One day, they will,” she said, raising her chin. “My friend, Mr. Blakeley, promises to make Women’s Rights part of his platform, if he is elected. That is a start.”

“Then he will not be re-elected.” Delacroix sounded very certain.

“You have a very closed mind, my lord. Can you not see the justice of my desires?”

“Would you marry me if I could?”

“If you think my wishes are so impossible of fulfillment, if you know that I will dedicate my life to bringing rights to women, why on earth would you want to marry me?”

He smiled and raked her with his eyes. For the first time, she was a little frightened of him. “I desire you as I have no other woman. Your passion for these things only increases my desire.”

“But you would not help me? From your position in the Lord’s?”

“Perhaps I need a bit more education. As I told you, you have taken my breath away.”

She began packing up their picnic with hands that shook. “It is time I was back in the school. It is time for story hour.”

“And what are you reading to the girls?”

“
The Mysteries of Udolpho.”

“I am not intimately acquainted with the work, but I would say it is hardly a feminist tract.”

“One thing at a time, my lord. One thing at a time.”

As they walked back to the school, Delacroix carried the picnic basket in one hand and encircled her waist with the other. She struggled not to feel trapped. The feeling remained as he sat in the back of the room as she read to her pupils. While they played their games, he stood on the sidelines.

Hélène developed a blinding headache. She felt as though she were in an airless room and she could not get her breath.

*~*~*

Jacqueline, Monique, and Anne-Marie were very excited to tell her how they had been going on and to hear Hélène’s tales of London.

“My cough is completely gone, Ellie,” said Anne-Marie. “There are no drafts in this house, and I need not sleep in a trundle anymore, next to the floor. I think I have never felt so well.”

“Oh, that is marvelous, Pixie. I am so very glad. Is Mrs. Pierce still kind?”

“Yes, she is,” Jacquie replied. “She serves ever so much food, I fear we will all become stout.”

Hélène was so relieved that she no longer carried the burden of her sister’s health from day to day, that any other feelings she might have had were temporarily banished. Love and concern for her sisters had dominated her thoughts and actions for so long, and even played a great part in the decision of whether she should marry or not, and who.

Monique brought out their sewing, and Hélène exclaimed over the beautiful, warm clothing they were sewing for winter, using the money from the Duke’s stipend. Her middle sister was using baby-fine pink wool to fashion a day dress with a white woolen chemisette. Jacqueline was making a midnight blue dinner gown of sarcenet over a silver slip. They were all working on a bottle green wool walking dress and matching cape for Anne-Marie.

They brought out their needles as they settled before the sitting room fire to listen to Hélène’s account of her journey. She told them first of Hatchards’ and Gunter’s, the British Museum, and her speech before the orphanage board. Then she brought crows of delight with her accounts of Vauxhall Gardens and the ball she had attended.

“Did you dance every dance?” asked Monique. “Did you waltz?”

“I did,” Hélène said laughing. All the confusion she had endured in London seemed to disappear in the face of her sisters’ delight. “I would wish for all of you a trip to the capital. It was different than anything I have experienced before. But even with all that revelry, I was glad to be back with my students. That is my work.”

“Oh, but Hélène,” said Monique, “you have worked so very hard ever since Papa’s death. You deserve some joy and good fortune.”

“I
have
received a proposal of marriage. I wanted to talk to all of you about it.”

“Not from
Samuel,
” said Monique.

“Yes,” she answered. “From Samuel. He
is virtually certain of winning the by-election as the other candidate had withdrawn.”

“So you would be the wife of an MP,” said Jacquie, not looking up from her sewing.

“Yes, which means I should live in London during the Season every year. This would provide a wonderful opportunity for you girls.”

“But you do not
love
him!” Monique wailed. “You cannot sacrifice your own happiness because it would be good for
us.
”

“But it would be a very satisfactory arrangement,” Hélène told them, putting away her private ache. “I could continue to teach. We could build a large house, with room for all of you. I should have kind Mrs. Blakeley for a mother-in-law . . . all our money problems would be at an end.”

“But,” said Jacquie, “you have always been against marriage for material reasons.”

“That is right. But in this instance I would be guaranteed that Samuel would treat me as an equal, not as a pretty thing to dangle on his arm. And I hope I should have a word or two to say about the position he takes up in Parliament.”

“That is certainly true,” said Jacquie, “but I cannot but feel you are not as enthusiastic as you seem, Ellie.”

Little Anne-Marie said, “Did you meet someone kind and handsome in London? You are so very beautiful, Hélène.”

“There is another possibility,” Hélène said. Briefly she discussed Lord Delacroix. “But I cannot feel anything for him. I would rather marry Samuel, I believe.”

“I cannot see you rubbing along at all well with such a man,” pronounced Jacqueline. “He is the epitome of all you despise about the
ton.
”

“But what if he should change his views?” Hélène asked.

Jacqueline said, “I have never been in Society, it is true. But I observed many marriages in our parish. Your situations are very different. It is true that you are very beautiful, but I think this man presumes too much. I think he intends to seduce you, Hélène. Take care.”

{ 15 }

CHRISTIAN TRIED TO OCCUPY HIMSELF with his boxing, a rousing curricle race to Richmond, and billiards at Brook’s. But these pastimes failed to fill his days to his satisfaction. He had not seen Lady Virginia since the outing to the British Museum four days ago. Wondering if that was the lack in his life, he proceeded to visit her at Rose House.

“My lord, I was beginning to wonder if you had been called away!” she said, an unbecoming archness in her voice.

Already, he regretted coming. “I have been frightfully busy, I am afraid. How have you been occupying your time?”

“I have been very dull since my brother left. Mother does not care to go out when he is not here.”

“Oh? Gone back to Dorset, has he?”

“Oh, no. He’s gone down to Chipping Norton to visit Miss Whitcombe-Hodge. Do not spread it about, but he has very high hopes of marrying her.”

Shock hit him full force like an arrow to his chest. Delacroix? To marry Hélène? No, it made no sense. Besides that, it was wrong. “Marrying Hélène . . . er Miss Whitcombe-Hodge? I did not realize . . .”

“He is smitten. I have never seen him this way. He is even willing to become a Whig for her sake.” Ginny smiled, looking complacent. “I shall enjoy immensely having her as a sister-in-law.”

Shrewsbury leapt up and began to pace, drawing his hand over the back of his scalp in agitation. “I did not realize things had been brought to such a pass.”

“Oh, he fell for her immediately. And that is not like my brother. He is so handsome, he has females running after him in packs. He never has to exert himself at all. And making a two-day journey to a mere market town is quite beyond anything, believe me.”

Did Hélène return Delacroix’s regard? What about the waltz we shared after I caught the man pressing his intentions on her? Did that count for nothing?

Then he remembered how that had ended, how he had attempted to squelch the magic. Devil take it!

“My lord? You seem quite agitated,” Lady Virginia said.

His being was consumed with a blind desire to get to Chipping Norton. The perfect idea slid into place. He sat down and faced his hostess. “Would you and your mother care to accompany me to see our school? I should like you to see what we are trying to accomplish for these East End orphans.”

She brightened immediately. “What a perfect excursion that would be! I can assure you on my own and my mother’s behalf that we should enjoy it immensely.”

“We shall leave in the morning, then. Oxford is halfway. Have you ever been there?” Shrewsbury could not help but remember the last time he had been there. He and Sophie had climbed Magdelene Tower and, while admiring the view, he had tried to convince her Frank would never marry her. How could he have inflicted such pain?

“No, I have not, and I should love to see it, for I hear the colleges and their settings are beautiful.”

“They are, indeed. We will go in my barouche. That should offer us plenty of room. What time shall I call for you?”

They arranged to leave at nine o’clock the following morning. Christian made his way home in a fog.

What is wrong with me? I feel physically ill at the idea of Hélène marrying that bounder! What a recipe for disaster! She may be beneath his social consequence, but she is far above him in character. Such a marriage would be horribly unequal.

Sitting before an empty grate in his library, he stared, but saw nothing. Hélène was against marriage. She was against the kind of careless privilege that Delacroix represented. What had happened to her principles? Was she going to desert all she believed in for the sake of a handsome face? Devil take it! Delacroix
was
handsome. And charming if you liked your charm oily and heavy-handed. He didn’t think Hélène would go for that type. Was she to give up the teaching she loved and disappear into deepest Dorset?

Why do I care?
Christian sat up.
Can it be that I am in love with the woman?
He stood and paced with great energy.
Impossible! I find her guiding principles outrageous.
Taking up a cricket ball, souvenir of a record-breaking at-bat, he squeezed it between his hands as he continued pacing.
But if she is willing to give them up for Delacroix, would she give them up for me?
He put the cricket ball back on its stand and took up an empty meerschaum pipe.
No, I should never ask such a thing of her.

Upon comparing proper, dull Lady Virginia to Hélène, he found there was no contest in his heart. It appeared to have settled on Hélène without his knowledge or consent.

Christian resumed pacing. What was he to do now? Clearly, he could not let her marry Delacroix. At least, not unless she loved the bounder. But he kept coming back to the waltz they had shared. She could not have faked the feelings emanating from her very being. But hadn’t he as much as said they could not act on them?

Had he forced her into Delacroix’s arms by his gross inability to recognize his feelings for what they were? He had no idea how he and Hélène would work out the issues between them, or if she was even still free, or if she would have him if she were.

When Christian went to bed that night, he still had not decided on a strategy. All he knew was that in two days, he would set eyes on Hélène again, and something had to be done.

*~*~*

The two days in the carriage with Lady Virginia and her mother exacerbated his anxiety in the extreme. Having made his choice, he should have somehow withdrawn his invitation to the two ladies, but he had not known how to do it without seeming rude.