Page 62 of The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady
Phoebe’s look was one of sympathy. “Would I lie to you?”
Helena bit her lip. “Then, perhaps it is best I know this now before he returns. I was right to want to end things…though I see now, it was entirely unnecessary. It is no wonder he seemed confused when he came to call and again at dinner. And here I…I was pressing myself upon him most unpleasantly.” She pushed the jar back into Phoebe’s hands. “I do not wish to continue when he is so clearly opposed to seeing me…”
“But is he? Think, child, he did speak kindly. Do you not think that with a little assistance you might still be able to lure him? Imagine yourself, the wife to such a gentleman.”
Helena shook her head. “I do not want him if he only cares that my face is attractive. He is kind — that is true. But what you speak of is no better than…than…seduction!” she cried out, horrified.
Phoebe’s laugh was harsh. “Perhaps it is time you grew up then. How is it that anyone marries? If one if fortunate you will find you can get along pleasantly enough with your intended husband. After all, their company must be ensured that you might produce an heir. This is the purpose to which a lady is called. Clearly, you have not spent enough time with the ton if you think otherwise.”
“If that is the case, then I am not sure I wish to!” Helena said, trying to shove the jar into Phoebe’s hand. “I want no part of this!”
Phoebe drew back, holding her hands out, palms outstretched to ward off the girl. “I only bid you to think about. Keep the jar, do what you wish with it. But I ask you to consider one thing, very seriously.”
Helena looked at the jar and brooch jumbled together in her hands. “Consider what?”
“Consider what it means to be a spinster. How it is to live in a house that will never be your home. And all that comes with that.”
Helena glanced around the room at the gaudy treasures upon every surface and felt sick to her stomach.
It would not be the same for me,she thought desperately.Aunt Phoebe is not the daughter of a Duke.
But she was not entirely sure such would be the case. What would happen to her if she never married? Her father would someday die. Where would she go then? Was her future entirely secure?
The jar felt impossibly heavy in her hand. The broach stuck into the sweaty skin of her palm. “I will think about it,” Helen said softly.
“I only ask that you do so,” Phoebe said, with a satisfied nod.
This time when Helena moved to leave the room, Phoebe made no attempt to stop her.
Chapter 42
Helena walked without thinking, winding up back in the parlor where it had all started, standing at the window and staring out at the snow. She remembered standing just the way she was now, with her forehead pressed against the pane and recalled how drastically her life had changed from when she’d seen the stranger floundering in the snow.
If I had done nothing, or if I had simply stayed away the way I was supposed to, none of this would have happened. My heart would not hurt the way it does now.
For her heart did hurt as if a giant hand had somehow reached within her to crush it within its grasp. She had been a fool, for she had known…knownthat the only reason the Duke of Durham had agreed to court her was that misbegotten brooch. But she had allowed herself to be swept up into the fantasy all the same.
She brought the brooch out now and stared at it.I wish I could fling it out into the snow. Let it disappear forever.
How long she stood there, she had no idea. When her father spoke behind her, she started in surprise, for she had not heard him come in.
“I had wondered when I would see that again,” he said, looking at the brooch in her hand.
“Father, you do not know what terrible thing I have done,” Helena said without turning, finding it easier to confess her sins with only her reflection and the frozen world outside to condemn her.
“It might surprise you that I know more than you think I do,” her father said with a soft chuckle and came to stand next to her. His hand reached out to take the brooch from his daughter, examining it with a thoughtful expression.
“When I gave this to your mother, I only wished to convey to her my love,” he said and smiled as Helena glanced over to look at him. “And yes, I loved her very much. I still do. Today…today was foolishness on my part, made complicated by the fact that I have been somewhat…lonely since her passing.”
Harcourt motioned to the settee, and she nodded, sitting first and waiting in silence for him to settle himself before speaking.
“So, have you been courting Aunt Phoebe for a long time then?” she asked, feeling awkward in asking, but liking less the idea that she had so little idea what was going on between them.
Harcourt laughed long and hard. “My child, I have never, before today, thought of her in that light. But when I read her note - your note as it turned out - I wondered, for the first time in all these years, if perhaps I did not have to be alone. And I became so enthralled with the idea that I acted…well…out of character.”
Helena’s lips twitched. “You did not seem quite yourself, Father. But…” she thought of the cluttered room, and the unhappiness seemed to hang over Phoebe when she was within those four walls. “You have not given her gifts then?” she asked, staring at the glass jar she still held in her hands.
“I hardly think she would accept one from me, even if I did. No, my dear. She receives her allowance and little else from me. Maybe I have been not as generous as I ought to be. She has never asked for more though so I might have neglected her remuneration.” He smiled, though he still seemed somewhat chagrined. “Why do you ask?”
