‘Do you know something, my dear,’ the countess then announced, wagging her finger at Helena, ‘I do believe that you have quite the look of your grandmother about you.’
‘M-my grandmother?’
Despite all of her good intentions, Helena’s attention was caught and, leaning forwards, she asked eagerly, ‘You were acquainted with my grandparents, ma’am?’
Lady Isobel raised one shoulder briefly. ‘Barely at all, child—I met your grandmother—Joanna Coverdale, as she then was—at several functions during my own “come-out”. She married her earl at much the same time as I captured my own and, after that, for one reason or another, our paths seldom crossed. However, I do seem to remember that she had a very forthright way with her—not dissimilar to your own, I would say!’
Helena bit her lip. ‘I am afraid that I know very little about my mother’s family,’ she said slowly. ‘My brother and I were discouraged from asking questions about them and it was only after Mama died that my father took it into his head…’ She stopped, suddenly recalling her previous resolve not to allow herself to become embroiled with this rather disturbing family. Glancing over at the ormolu clock on the mantelshelf, she saw, to her relief, that the obligatory half-hour for an afternoon call had almost run its time and, rising to her feet, she dipped a small curtsy to her hostess, saying, ‘I see that it is time I was on my way, your ladyship. It was most kind of you to allow me to come and visit you, but I—’
‘Nonsense!’ interrupted the countess. ‘You cannot possibly go yet. If I am to bring you out, there are a good many things that I need to know about you.’ Then, turning to Richard, she exhorted him to ring for Bickerstaff to bring in the tea things, adding, ‘And then you may take yourself off while Miss Wheatley and I have our comfortable little coze!’
Reluctantly sinking back into her seat, Helena watched in dismay as the earl rose to his feet to carry out Lady Isobel’s request. After casting what she could only assume was meant to be a smile of apology in her direction, he quit the room, leaving her to the mercy of his formidable grandparent.
‘What do you think of him, then—my grandson?’
Taken unawares by the countess’s sudden question, Helena felt herself flushing. ‘I—I cannot say that I have known Lord Markfield long enough to have formed any worthwhile opinion of him, ma’am,’ she replied cautiously.
‘Oh, stuff, gel! You must own that he is rather a handsome beast and quite out of the common! A far cry from those other cheerless profligates to whom you gave their marching orders, I’ll be bound!’
‘He certainly seems to be a very pleasant gentleman,’ faltered Helena, desperately wishing that the subject of the conversation would return quickly and deliver her from this extraordinary woman’s searching cross-examination. Whilst it was not at all difficult to fathom out what lay behind Lady Isobel’s fulsome panegyric regarding her grandson’s superiority, Helena had no intention of allowing the dowager to browbeat her into any form of commitment to him. As far as she was concerned, it was merely a matter of trying to keep up appearances for the short duration of the two to three weeks which she was certain would be ample time for her father to recover sufficiently to receive the news that Markfield was yet another unsuitable candidate for his daughter’s hand.
‘Pleasant! Humph!’ For some moments, the dowager regarded her visitor with an inscrutable expression, then, ‘You must understand, my child, that none of this business has been at Markfield’s instigation. Due to other members of our family having failed to stay the course, my poor grandson—almost the last in his line—has been forced to compromise his own position in order to try to redeem what I can only describe as a grievous dereliction of duty on the parts of his uncle and cousin.’ Lifting her handkerchief to her eyes, she dabbed away a non-existent tear. ‘A very noble sacrifice, as I am sure you will agree, Miss Wheatley?’
‘Oh, indeed!’ Helena choked back the gurgle of laughter that threatened. ‘Most noble.’ Then, after hesitating for the briefest of seconds, she asked curiously, ‘Forgive me if I have mistaken the matter, ma’am, but I was given to understand that your ladyship had quite an extended family living in Ireland?’
‘Ha!’ exclaimed the countess, nodding her head in triumph. ‘My daughter’s family. So you were sufficiently interested in Markfield to have done your homework, it seems!’
Helena shook her head. ‘Not I, ma’am,’ she replied evenly. ‘I believe you must have conveyed that information to my father yourself—you have been one of his most valued clients for a good many years, I know. He certainly seems to hold you in some regard, which is, no doubt, why he was willing to consider Lord Markfield’s petition.’
The countess gave a haughty sniff. ‘As well he might, my girl! Standish has been a name to be reckoned with for over two hundred years. You should be thanking your lucky stars that you have been afforded such an opportunity for advancement. Most of the gels in town would jump at the chance to snaffle Markfield and, without so much as lifting your finger, here he is, yours for the taking!’
At Helena’s lack of response to this pompous assertion, a puzzled frown crossed her face. Fixing her young visitor with a penetrating look, she let out a sigh and her tone softened. ‘Come, my child. Unless I have mistaken matters, you seem to be entirely reluctant about the whole affair. Surely the boy cannot have done anything to offend you?’
Chapter Five
Helena was at somewhat of a loss. The very last thing she had wanted to do was to enter into any sort of heart-to-heart discussion regarding either Markfield’s enforced application for her hand or her own feelings about the matter. At the same time, the oddest thought was beginning to occur to her that, despite the apparently crusty exterior, her hostess was, in all likelihood, a good deal more bark than bite. However, no sooner had this surprising conclusion crossed her mind than it was followed by the equally disturbing thought that, unless she extracted herself from this interview very quickly, she might well find herself confiding in the old countess and seeking her counsel.
To a certain extent, Richard had not been far out in his assessment of Helena’s limited social awareness. Her mother’s illness and totally unexpected death, following hard on the heels of the loss of her beloved brother, had left the then nineteen-year-old, poised on the threshold of womanhood, without the benefit of an older woman’s guiding hand. Although it was true that she had eventually managed to take over her mother’s reins, insofar as the running of the Wheatley household was concerned, Helena still desperately missed the older woman’s calm wisdom and forbearance. The fact that she was well able to deal with such matters at all was, for the most part, due to the unwritten precepts that the nobly born Louisa Wheatley had instilled into her from childhood.
At a time when other young women of her circle 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