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Chapter One
London, 1811
As her carriage clattered through the London streets, Helena clenched her gloved hands together and tried unsuccessfully to relax her shoulders. The carriage windows were dusty from the road, but she could still see enough to tell the streets were becoming more familiar. She took a long breath in and exhaled shakily, willing the nerves in her stomach to settle.
It should have been wonderful coming home. She certainly was not sad to leave the countryside or her late husband’s estate. She would be happy never to see that place again. And yet, all her regrets were here, in London, and she was not sure if she was ready to face them.
“All’ll be well, m’lady,” Eliza said softly from across the carriage. Helena glanced at her lady’s maid, the one constant source of warmth in her life these past years, and tried to smile as though Eliza’s words had reassured her. She must have failed to be convincing, because Eliza continued, her sweet voice soothing with its lilting accent, even though Helena could not quite make herself believe the words.
“S’bound to feel strange, leavin’ one life and startin’ anew back in London. ‘Tis a big change, and all change is frightenin’ at first. But we’ll manage, m’lady. We’ve managed worse.”
Helena nodded. They had managed worse, but it was not fear of the new and unknown that Helena felt. It was dread that she herself had changed too much to fit back into her old world. To return to London as a widow at 26 years old was odd enough, but the difference between her youth and her married life was stark. After years of loneliness in marriage and months of quiet in mourning, she felt entirely out of place back in the bustling, loud, vibrant city. And yet…
She pushed aside the curtains to get a better look at the busy street going by.
I have missed this, she thought. She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer that perhaps her new start could truly be a fresh one, in which her life went a different direction. A better one.
The carriage swayed to a stop and another glance out the window told her they had reached her family’s home, even before the coachman’s gruff, “We arrived, My Lady” reached her ears.
Helena straightened her dress and reached up to touch her auburn hair, checking that no stray hairs had fallen during the journey. But no, it remained perfectly set in the style Eliza had done for her that morning.
She took one last steadying breath and opened the door.
She had barely made it down from the carriage when the front door of the house flew open and a blur of a person came barreling toward her, shrieking her name. She opened her arms just in time to catch her 19-year-old sister Lillian as the young woman threw herself at Helena, hugging her tightly.
“You’re really here, you’re really home!” Lillian half laughed, half wept into Helena’s neck, her green eyes full of excitement and affection. It was a completely unladylike display, but Helena could not find it in her heart to say anything about it. Instead, she only hugged her sister back just as tightly. They clung to each other for a long moment, still slightly swaying from the momentum of Lillian’s mad dash.
“Come now,” Helena finally said, patting her sister’s dark blonde curls one last time before pushing the two of them apart. “Let’s not make a scene in the street. You know Mother won’t like that.”
As if summoned, her mother Prudence appeared in the threshold of the doorway, a tall, straight figure clothed in black. The sight of her mother’s mourning clothes reminded Helena that there was one person not waiting to greet her—her father.
I wish I could have seen him one last time, she thought, and then pushed the thought aside—there was nothing she could do about that now.
Her parents had made infrequent visits to her husband Percival’s estate, but they had always been awkward and strained. Percival had hovered around, never seeming to want to leave her alone with them. He’d never liked people gathering without his approval or oversight. And he’d never allowed her to travel on her own to visit London.
She sighed and shook her head as if to clear away all those past memories. She took Lillian’s arm and together they climbed the steps to meet their mother.
Prudence appeared the same as ever. There was perhaps a bit more silver streaked through her brown hair, maybe a wrinkle or two more around her green eyes, but the look in them had not changed, a sort of tired wariness, as if she were always looking for the way things might go wrong. Though physically, Helena felt her mother looked younger than her 48 years, the aloof expression she always wore made her seem older.
Helena’s heart thudded in her chest. Though they had seen one another over the years, she had not had a proper conversation with her mother since the night before her wedding, when they had fought like never before. Helena had known that it was too late to change anything, but she had taken out all her heartbreak on her mother. And her mother in turn had accused her of being selfish and ungrateful. The next day, Helena had married and left London, and had not been back until today.
“Mother,” she said softly, wondering if her mother was remembering that night as well.
“Helena,” her mother replied and then, almost as if it was an afterthought, “welcome home.”
“Mother, don’t be so stoic!” Lillian said, slipping her arm from Helena to take their mother’s instead. “Aren’t you excited Helena is home?”
“I think you are excited enough for the both of us,” Prudence replied, but Helena caught how her expression softened a little. Lillian had always had that effect on both their parents, and she knew it, too. Thankfully, she used the power kindly, always smoothing over the rough edges in a way that Helena had never been able to do.
“I shall help you get settled, Helena, and then we shall eat. Are you hungry? Shall we have dinner early?”
“We shall have dinner at five, like we do every evening,” their mother said firmly, and Helena found herself smiling genuinely. The light bickering felt familiar and comfortable, and she thought to herself that perhaps Eliza was correct, and she would manage all right after all.
***
As it was just the three of them, they did not dress for dinner, and the meal was simple. Lillian was full of bright chatter, talking about the latest gossip on the ton and everyone’s preparations for the Season. As it would be Lillian’s first Season out, she was giddy with excitement, talking at length before she exhausted that topic of conversation. Then, she turned her attention to Helena.
“Will you really stay with us for a long time, Helena? It feels too good to be true!”
Helena smiled and nodded.
“As you know, Lord Blackmore’s brother Edgar graciously allowed me to stay on the estate as everything was settled.” It had been an agreement of convenience—she had not been ready to return to London in the shock of suddenly finding herself widowed, and Edgar had his own business on the continent to finish, and needed someone to help sort out the mess Percival had made of the estate’s affairs in the meantime. “But now that he has returned to England, he is ready to take up the title he inherited and the estate that comes with it. And I have returned home, to London. Here.”
Helena felt an unexpected lump of emotion in her throat. It was just now sinking in that she was, in fact, home. The past seven years could not be erased, but if she was lucky, they might slowly start to fade into nothing but bad memories.
“And you’re not leaving again? You’re staying? In perpetuity?” Lillian asked, eyes big and hopeful. Helena suddenly remembered Lillian as a child, crying and asking her not to go. She swallowed and nodded. Wanting to lighten the mood, she gave her sister a teasing smile.
“Yes, in perpetuity. Where did you learn such a big word?”
Lillian sniffed at her dismissively.
“You’re not the only one who likes to read, you know.”
Her mother gave a small huff that Helena suspected was meant to be in protest of her daughters’ reading habits. The one thing her parents had disagreed on most was how much her father had encouraged the girls to read. Her mother had thought it hardly a practical skill, but for her father—an antiquarian and lover of history—knowledge had been a thing to be sought eagerly. The fact that he’d had daughters and not sons had not dimmed the idea in his mind, and he’d encouraged them both to devote as much time to training their minds as their manners.
As if to demonstrate, Lillian suddenly veered into another course of conversation, voicing a question that Helena herself had also asked.
“It was very strange though, Lord Blackmore suddenly dying like that. Did they ever find what started the fire?”
Helena glanced at their mother, whose sharply raised eyebrow indicated that was certainly not appropriate dinner table conversation, even among just the three of them. Helena met her mother’s gaze and understood she ought to curtail her line of questioning. She gave a slight nod of acknowledgement to her mother’s unspoken command.
“No, they did not. And let’s please not discuss it.”
Lillian’s eyes widened.
“Of course we shouldn’t! How insensitive of me, Helena. Please forgive me!”
“There’s nothing to forgive, dear,” Helena replied. “I simply wish to leave all that in the past. Let’s just move on to something less… sad.” The word felt like a lie. She knew in her heart she was not sad that her husband had died. But there was no appropriate way to express that.
In the heavy silence that followed, Helena realized that Lillian was studying her, a thoughtful expression on her face. Her heart sped up, wondering if somehow Lillian could guess her feelings. But after a long moment, Lillian looked down at her plate and whatever tension had hung in the air seemed to dispel.
Dessert was served a few minutes later, and with it, Lillian found a new topic of discussion.
“You must have seen those awful new factories when you came into the city,” she said.
“Yes, I did,” Helena replied. It was impossible to miss the change in London’s skyline, especially after being away for so long.
“They ought to better restrict the building of factories,” their mother sniffed, the mannerism so similar to Lillian’s earlier; Helena realized it must be their mother Lillian got it from. “Those awful dirty buildings make the whole city feel wretched some days.”
“Oh Mother, that’s not why the factories are awful!” Lillian exclaimed. “I meant because of the horrible conditions for the workers! They are paid so little and work such long hours, some of them in very dangerous conditions. And many of the factories even have children working in them. Can you imagine? Children, who should be learning, or at least working somewhere clean and safe. It’s really appalling and I worry for all the families who’ve come here from the countryside and gotten caught up in factory work.”
Helena blinked at Lillian, shocked at what she was hearing. Why should Lillian know anything about the factories or the people who worked in them? She glanced at their mother and found her own alarm mirrored in her mother’s eyes.
“Of course, some of the workers are striking for better conditions, but then the factory owners, they—”
“Lillian,” their mother cut in severely.
Lillian stopped and glanced between the two of them—their mother’s grim expression and Helena’s shocked one.
“I know it’s upsetting, but—”
“That’s enough,” their mother said, voice even icier than before. “This is certainly not a topic for polite conversation, nor should it ever be a topic of conversation for a proper young lady.”
Lillian blinked, then frowned. Helena recognized the signs that her sister was about to argue and rushed to intervene.
“I’m afraid I’m quite tired,” she cut in. “I think I’ll go rest in my room, but Lillian, would you bring me a few books to read from the study? You know all my favorites.”
“I…” Lillian hesitated, as if unwilling to drop the topic, but apparently decided to concede. “Of course I will, Helena.”
“Thank you, dearest. Good night, Mother.”
“Good night,” her mother said, still looking at Lillian with a severe expression. But then, as Helena stood to leave, she added more softly, “It is good to have you home.”
“Thank you,” Helena replied, touched. “It is good to be home.”
As she made her way upstairs, Helena found herself returning to Lillian’s rant about the factories. She had sounded like some of the political radicals, the kind that held rallies and distributed pamphlets. A cold shiver went down her spine.
Could Lillian have somehow gotten mixed up with such groups?
Then she dismissed the thought. Surely her mother kept far too close a watch on her sister for that to happen. She likely only read about it somewhere. And putting the thought from her mind, she went up to bed.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Love and Yearning in the Ton ", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hello there, my dear readers. I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek! I will be waiting for your comments. Thank you! 🙂