Page 39 of What A Rogue Wants
“It’s better to know than to be ignorant, dear. I am sorry.” Helen squeezed Madelaine’s shoulder. “I’d thought Grey seemed as if he was finally settling down, but I see now I was wrong. Small comfort this may be, but I guarantee you one day Grey will see you at Court, finely dressed with a brood of children and a handsome husband, and he’ll sorely regret having botched his chance with you.”
“I don’t know why I’m so upset.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I barely know him, but he made me feel hopeful. I know I’m an oddity, but he seemed to like that.” Gads. She’d not meant to expose herself so.
Helen’s eyes swam with pity. “Dear, oddballs often turn out to be what we refer to in thetonas an Incomparable.”
“I’ll never be an Incomparable. Mother always said I’d be lucky to find a man who would put up with my oddities.”
Helen’s eyes narrowed. “I was an oddball, you know. Too educated and too opinionated by half. And then I became fashionable because of my oddity.”
“That won’t happen for me. Mother warned I’d be my own downfall unless I changed.”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I knew your mother very well from childhood to our time at Court together. She had a good heart, but tolerance for anyone who did not fit into a perfect mold was not her specialty.”
“You didn’t understand her,” Madelaine protested. It was one thing for her to have been irritated with her mother in life, but she was dead. And she’d not stand here and let anyone disparage her mother.
“You’re wrong,” Helen said. “You see, I knew her before she was the perfect model of feminine accomplishments. Once, she loved to write, and I remember her saying that she wanted to be a writer someday.”
“I never knew she loved to write.”
“I daresay you wouldn’t have. Her mother was very strict and whipped your mother many times with a cane to rid her of her foolish notions. By the time we came to Court your mother scoffed at anyone who hadn’t perfected drawing, knitting, the pianoforte et cetera.”
“She wouldn’t have been so cruel!” Yet an inner voice whispered memories of all the times her mother had sneered at Madelaine for the things she enjoyed.
Helen offered a gentle smile. “Don’t get riled, dear. She didn’t mean to be cruel. But if you beat someone enough, they’ll gladly conform to the expectations of those around them. And in my experience someone changed from fear often becomes the loudest proponent of what they rebelled against in the first place.”
“I feel worse now.” Madelaine set down her cup. “I was terribly disobedient and willful. We weren’t close, you know. I imagine she hated who I was.”
Helen shook her head. “Who you are. And I imagine she was envious that you were strong enough not to be cowed.”
“She never beat me with a cane.” Madelaine didn’t want Helen to think her mother could have been that cruel. Her mother had spanked her with her hand and on occasion a belt, but only when she’d deserved it.
Helen arched a thin eyebrow. “Never with a cane you say?”
“No, never.”
“How fortunate for you. Though I daresay a hand and other things such as a leather strap could cause their own fair amount of pain.”
Madelaine’s pulse beat a furious tempo. She wanted to move away from this topic. “I wonder if Father knows about her past.”
“I doubt it. I only knew because we grew up together.”
It was all so much to take in. The desire to be alone grew stronger until she was fairly itching to flee. “I’d better be going. I received word my father would be here early in the morning, and I’ve not seen him in months.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Elizabeth said.
Madelaine had almost forgotten her friend’s presence because of her unusual quietness. When she looked at Elizabeth, she blinked in shock. Her friend’s normally bright eyes appeared dull and tinged yellow. But worse was Elizabeth’s complexion. A sheen of sweat covered her forehead and left her usually rosy skin looking pasty. Madelaine grabbed Elizabeth’s arm as her friend swayed. “Are you unwell?”
“I must have eaten something bad. Perhaps the fish?” Elizabeth clutched Madelaine’s hand, and she had to force herself not to recoil at the clammy touch.
Helen swooped toward them and took Elizabeth’s other arm. “You need to get to bed. Louisa!”
Louisa came rushing into the room and bobbed a curtsy. “Milady?”
“Help Madelaine get Elizabeth to her bedchamber. Then hurry back. I’ll send a note to my doctor and one to the queen imploring that Elizabeth be excused from service tomorrow.”
Not long after, Madelaine and Louisa had Elizabeth tucked into her bed. Madelaine sat beside her friend and pressed a cool rag to her head. “Do you want me to stay?”
“No.” Elizabeth shook her head, the damp ringlets clinging to her skin didn’t move. “I’ll be fine in the morning. I’m sure of it.”
