Page 32 of The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady
“I am saying that there are those who understand what a burden that child would have been as he had grown older.”
“As I am a burden.” Helena could barely breathe. “Tell me you are not saying what I think you are saying.”
Phoebe drew to her feet, reaching for the girl and enfolding her in a long embrace. “Shh…child. Hush. I am not saying anything. You continually bless us with your music. What would you father do if you were not here to brighten his day?”
“Then you don’t think I am a…amonster?” She whispered this last word, thinking again of the letter she had written, the one that would assure that her suitor came.
“And what would make you a monster?” Phoebe answered her, tucking a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “You are a dear sweet child who bears an unfortunate skin condition. Whether or not you had anything to do with the child, it matters not. You are here now, and you will not come into contact with such a situation again.”
Helena stiffened. “What are you saying?” she asked, trying to step back, away from her aunt but finding she had no room with the chair behind her.
“Well, you no longer make visits to those within the parish, nor are you in contact with those who are in the family way. I think the incident is safely not repeated.”
“But what about my own children…are you saying that I would be a danger to a child that I carried?” Helena whispered this question fearfully, barely able to choke out the words.
Phoebe stared at her for a long moment and finally laughed. “Why, whatever would make you think that?”
Helena felt a rush of relief. “Then you think that this is perhaps then a fluke since my mother had no such blemish nor my father.”
Phoebe’s eyes softened. “Oh, my dear girl…child…I thought you realized…”
Her hand came out as though to pull her into a second embrace. Helena evaded her fingers, dodging behind the chair. “Realized what? What are you saying, Auntie?”
Phoebe let her go. There was something more terrifying in the pitying look she gave her. “That you will not marry. You must not. Imagine the risk…”
Helena wavered on her feet. “Surely you do not mean that…”
“I have never been more serious in my life.” Phoebe shook her head and stepped toward Helena one hand still out, as though trying to calm a wild thing. “In truth, I regret having to tell you in such a way.”
Helena backed away another step, nearly tumbling into the fire. At the last minute, she managed to pull her skirts away from the blaze, her heart pounding in her chest at the close encounter, but she sent the poker tumbling, clattering against the hearth. “I do not wish to hear this,” she cried out, knocking over a small table and sending a vase crashing to the floor in her haste to escape.
“You need to hear it. Would you do such a thing as to someone you have linked your life to? To the children you might have?”
Helena shook her head wildly. “You lie! I WILL have a caller today. I know I will. The Duke of Durham…”
“The Duke?” Phoebe reeled back as though struck. “What makes you think he is coming here today to see you? I am under the impression that he has business with your father…”
“He does. But he shall see me beforehand. I asked Father about it last night, and he agreed it would be prudent to arrange it thus.” Helena tried to get past her aunt, but she was effectively blocked. A chair tumbled over as she tried to get around. She left it and retreated back behind the second chair.
“Arranged!” Phoebe reeled back in surprise. “My dear girl, what have you done?”
“Nothing!” Helena eyed the doorway. The bed lay between her and her freedom. To go around would put her within reach of her aunt. She could not bear to be held, could not bear to be coddled and soothed right now. “I have done nothing!”
“You have! I know you have! The Duke of Durham never darkened this doorstep since…since we had that visitor. That woman found in the snow!” Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. “What have you done?”
“Only what I needed to!” Helena screamed, scrambling over the bed, trying to get to the door, needing only to get to the door. He would be there soon. She mustnotbe prevented from seeing him.
Phoebe stood still, a bastion of calm in the middle of the room. She put her hands out pleadingly to the girl. “Please calm yourself! You are hysterical, child, look what you have done to this room!”
Helena looked, seeing for the first time the scatter of her belongings, furniture overturned, the broken vase. Her coverlet lay half on the floor, the bedclothes tumbled in all directions.
“I do not care! I cannot!” Helena said, her hand on the door. “He will come, as I have said he would. I will be there to greet him. I have given too much to make sure of this.”
“I wonder,” Phoebe said softly, making no move to stop Helena as she opened the door and fled into the hall. “I wonder that you have.”
Chapter 21
The Duke of Durham was ushered into the parlor with certain ceremony. The contrast was noticeable, for while he had been bid to wait an uncommonly long time in his previous visit, in this instance, he was brought directly to the sitting room.
