A colonels sinful dilemm.., p.16
A Colonel's Sinful Dilemma, page 16
You have seen for yourself that she has impulses unbecoming of a proper lady.
As Reginald sipped a spoonful of soup, an image came to mind of Miss Helena in her tailcoat and breeches. It was an effort not to spill the soup.
Mitchell has some knowledge of a buried scandal, and she hasn’t the will to defend herself. Given how free she usually is with her thoughts and opinions, surely nothing else can condemn her so thoroughly.
But Reginald was loath to take the odious man at his word again. He regretted ever having done so—although he reminded himself that he had sought confirmation and found it, in the account of Lysander’s dicing and carousing given him by the young chap at Bedford Club.
Though I do not even know that gentleman’s name.
Reginald straightened, leaving the soup unfinished.
That Lysander Grey had some history with vice was undeniable. Even Miss Helena had confessed it, although she forgave her brother with excuses about a broken heart. But it did seem that the gentleman had reformed, and that could indicate that he was never frightfully lost, to begin with.
And if the accounts I believed of Lysander’s sins were exaggerated, I should think perhaps the same is true of whatever Mitchell is hinting with regards to Miss Helena’s past.
Still, Reginald sorely wished he could get to the bottom of the secret.
After dinner, an opportunity to find out presented itself.
Chapter 17
Excitement over at last leaving England triumphed once again over the vexation of Major Mitchell’s presence on the ship, as Helena made her way above deck once dinner had concluded.
The night was clear, and she could see myriad stars. They had left all sight of land behind, and she knew they would come to the coast of Belgium soon enough, but for the moment, as she rested gloved hands on the railing of the ship, she could imagine herself far away at sea.
‘We shall dock by dawn, I suspect.’
It was Colonel Wrencrest, come to join her.
‘Where is Rose?’ she asked.
‘Unwell. The rocking of the ship, you know.’
‘That is a pity,’ Helena said. She breathed in the sea air with relish.
‘Her suffering shan’t be of long duration,’ the colonel said, ‘although I do not envy her even these few hours of it.’
Helena nodded, but she had no experience with sea-sickness.
‘You must be fatigued from the journey so far,’ Wrencrest said.
‘Certainly not,’ Helena contradicted him. ‘I am invigorated.’
‘Is that so?’
She glanced at him, unable to mask her sense of wild enthusiasm. ‘Oh, Colonel, I am ever so grateful that you agreed to my accompanying Rose. To see Belgium! I have always longed to travel.’
‘I daresay wartime is not an ideal choice for visiting foreign lands.’
‘I spoke with one of the officers’ wives who sat across from me,’ she said. ‘I was most reassured on that account. Everything sounds very civilized in Brussels. She intends to invite us to a ball, you know.’
Wrencrest snorted. ‘Naturally.’
They stood without speaking for a short interval, and Helena gazed out with a kind of adoration at the waves, flickering in the moonlight.
‘You’ve never before travelled?’ the colonel asked.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Unless one considers the journey from Westmorland to London.’
‘Westmorland is almost as far north as Hadrian’s Wall unless I am mistaken. That does present quite an odyssey, I daresay.’
Helena laughed. ‘I confess I was most disoriented the first time I made the trip.’
‘How old were you?’
This question caused Helena to bite her lip. She hesitated before answering. ‘My family left Westmorland in 1811 when I was sixteen.’
In the moonlight, it was not easy to read Wrencrest’s expression. He seemed to be studying her face.
‘Was that your first time visiting London?’ he asked.
Helena was most unsettled. ‘How could it not have been?’ she said with a light laugh.
‘I suppose—’
‘Your childhood was in Dorset, was it not?’ Helena asked.
The colonel paused. Then he said, ‘It was.’
‘Plenty of sea air in Dorset,’ she said.
‘Indeed,’ he allowed. ‘Lovely beaches, and many a fine walk to be had.’
But there was something cold in his tone.
‘Do you miss it?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he replied.
Helena found this surprising, but she was uncertain of how to tell him so. Having no wish to offend, she said nothing.
‘I fear my childhood lacked for joy,’ he said at last. ‘It has quite coloured my opinion of Dorset, in a most unjust way, no doubt.’
‘But you still have an estate there?’
‘We do, although I have not been back in many years.’
‘I think I should dislike Dorset as well,’ Helena said in a confidential tone, ‘after the initial excitement of experiencing a new place had passed, at least.’
‘How so?’ he asked, taken aback.
‘I should ever walk along the shore and stare out at the sea wishing I was crossing it,’ Helena said. ‘I suppose it might feel as though the coast was taunting me, after a time.’
Colonel Wrencrest laughed, and the sound warmed her.
‘What a singular young lady you are,’ he said, amused.
‘Oh yes, everyone says so,’ she agreed. ‘Although I daresay most do not intend for me to take it as a compliment.’
***
Late in the morning of the next day, they arrived at Willem Dock in Antwerp, an ancient city. Its buildings had distinctive facades with a stepped, triangular appearance. Reginald had been to Antwerp before, but he found new interest in looking about now that he imagined seeing it through Miss Helena’s eyes.
As they disembarked, Miss Helena stared about her avidly. Rose was pale and withdrawn, but Reginald felt certain she would be set to rights now that they had returned to solid ground. He decided to delay the acquisition of a coach to take them to Brussels, however. It would do Rose good to walk for a bit. After making arrangements to have their luggage sent to the hotel where he was to be quartered, he gave each lady an arm, and they set out to view more of the city.
Miss Helena pointed and gasped, admiring the statues they passed, which gazed down at them from high pillars, commenting on how differently the people dressed and asking Reginald to read any signs they saw, although he had no grasp of Flemish. Miss Helena admired an ornate carriage as it rolled by, stopped to greet a pair of white dogs, and lingered in front of merchants’ carts and open shops.
Reginald found discovering Antwerp with her to be altogether delightful, and Rose soon rallied as well. After several hours of sight-seeing, they took the coach to Brussels at last. Reginald was pleased with his decision to delay and take the ladies walking, for they bore the journey much more heartily after the pause.
When they reached the hotel, Miss Helena’s mood changed. Her eyes darted about as if searching for a face she recognized. She ceased speaking and began to wring her hands.
Worried for Lysander, no doubt.
Reginald found he would welcome it if Lysander happened to be stationed there in Brussels, and they should encounter him. Reginald was not resolved to permit Rose to marry the fellow, but it would nevertheless be a great relief to see Miss Helena’s anxiety ended.
They made their way to their apartments, which were minimal, with only a maid-of-all-work to serve them, named Fredericka. Reginald watched the reactions of the ladies as they saw the four rooms and kitchen, with plain basins for washing and unassuming furnishings without ornamentry. Rose blinked and hid poorly her surprise, but Miss Helena was unruffled.
‘I should have had Oliverson come with me,’ Rose said.
‘We shouldn’t have had a room for her,’ Miss Helena said. ‘Never fear, Rose, for I am happy to act as your lady’s maid. After all, I am already meant to be your companion, am I not?’
If there had been some test of Miss Helena’s suitability to be a wife to an officer abroad, Reginald judged that she had passed it. It made him distinctly uncomfortable to realize it was so.
I suppose I had hoped she might prove herself a spoiled and silly girl after all, full of romantic ideas but unfit to face the challenges of the reality of travel and its hardships.
Then I might more easily have put her out of my mind.
This was not to be. Miss Helena was as good as her word, assisting Rose to dress and requiring very little to remain in a cheerful temper as they made their way to dinner with the rest of the officers stationed at the hotel. The ladies looked lovely: Rose in a creamy-white ruffled dress, and Miss Helena in a plainer, but equally elegant gown of silvery silk gauze. Miss Helena looked about with bright eyes, eager for Reginald to make introductions.
Only the sight of Mitchell joining them gave her pause.
***
‘He cannot reside here as well, surely,’ Helena murmured when she caught sight of the odious man.
Rose scowled. ‘I daresay he bribed the concierge to give him a room, once he learned that I would be here.’
‘We shall pay him no mind,’ Colonel Wrencrest pronounced. ‘You may yet avoid him, after all, for we are very numerous. Fifty at least.’
But he was far too sanguine, for Mitchell cornered Helena and Rose as soon as the colonel left them on one side of the hotel’s great drawing room to go and speak to someone he knew on the other.
‘Miss Wrencrest. Miss Grey,’ the major said by way of greeting, giving a perfunctory bow.
Helena could scarcely muster the will to return his gesture with a curtsey.
‘Major Mitchell,’ she muttered.
‘How do you like your new accommodations?’ he asked with more solicitude than Helena credited as sincere.
‘They shall do very well,’ Rose said sharply.
Mitchell favoured her with an amused smirk. ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’
Rose looked away.
‘There is no shame,’ Mitchell said, ‘if you are accustomed to more luxurious surroundings. It hardly reflects poorly on you.’
‘We are perfectly satisfied,’ Helena said.
‘Some of the more affluent officers have chosen to house their families in finer accommodations,’ he said to Rose, ignoring Helena. ‘If I had a wife, I daresay I should desire to do so as well.’
‘A meagre consolation for she who must bear such a disagreeable end,’ Rose snapped.
With that, she pulled her shawl more tightly around her and delved into the crowd. Helena hurried after her.
‘That detestable popinjay will hound me,’ Rose complained as they hastened to find Colonel Wrencrest.
‘I daresay he cannot doubt your lack of regard for him,’ Helena said with a laugh.
Rose glanced at her, and her mouth quirked in a smile. ‘I suppose I was a touch rude.’
‘Just a touch,’ Helena said with mock earnestness.
She was pleased when they spied Colonel Wrencrest again. ’Twas not because he was so handsome in his dress uniform, or because he had been looking at her, of late, with undisguised admiration in his dark eyes. No, Helena had no illusions concerning Colonel Wrencrest. They might have set aside their anger and conflict after the outing they participated in together, and perhaps she could own that there was a moment when she thought that he might kiss her. But none of that changed anything.
Colonel Wrencrest disapproved of Lysander so thoroughly that he had pushed Rose to break Lysander’s heart. Even if she found the colonel charming sometimes—even if the fringe of black lashes surrounding his eyes quite fascinated her, and she felt drawn to him when he spoke of his past—none of it changed the reality of their situation.
Helena had a sensible reason for seeking him out, indeed. The colonel must commence with all of the introductions she required to succeed at her most urgent task: locating her brother. She had hoped, even though she had known it was likely a vain hope, to encounter Lysander as soon as they set foot in Antwerp. That hope had been disappointed, of course, but she felt it might not be too unreasonable to expect that she should sometime chance upon someone here in Brussels who would know him and tell her where he was stationed.
This hope would eventually bear fruit, although not in the way she anticipated.
Chapter 18
‘It is most fortunate that you have returned now,’ said Sir Thomas Picton, a Welsh officer, somewhat infamous for having governed Trinidad in a most despotic manner a decade prior, and perhaps only less so for his predilection for wearing civilian clothing in combat.
They stood with their brandies as they waited for dinner to begin. Miss Helena and Rose remained at Reginald’s side, both looking about furtively as if expecting Major Mitchell to jump out from behind one of the other dinner guests.
‘How do you mean, sir?’ Reginald replied to the Welshman.
‘Napoleon will make his move soon, mark my words,’ Picton said. ‘Wellington’s going to want every decent man he can get!’
‘Indeed, I am glad to have returned in time to do my duty,’ Reginald said.
‘He shall want us at Ligny, I daresay,’ Picton asserted.
‘Will you wear your round-brimmed hat, Sir Picton?’ asked a jolly-looking lady.
‘Indeed, as I always do,’ Picton said. ‘Ligny, Wrencrest. Mark my words!’
‘You may be right,’ Reginald said, ‘although Ligny is not so close as other possibilities, such as Quatre-Bras.’
‘Have you any knowledge of new officers, Lieutenant-General?’ Miss Helena put in.
Picton’s long and rather pointed nose twitched. ‘Damned if I do, Miss,’ he said, living up to his reputation for foul language.
Rose blushed, but Miss Helena showed no sign of having noticed.
‘’Tis only that I wish to locate my brother,’ she said, her gloved hands twisting together before her in an uncharacteristic show of unease. ‘Lysander Grey. Have you not heard of him, sir?’
‘How the devil should I?’ Picton snapped.
Reginald felt heat building in his collar and drew in a deep breath, intending to chastise the vulgarian—superior officer or no. But Miss Helena turned to another gentleman Reginald had just introduced her to, who stood in a group chatting a few feet away. She asked him if he had heard of her brother, and it seemed a useless gesture to reprove Picton after all. Miss Helena’s efforts again met with disappointment, and she moved further to interrogate yet another officer.
‘Oh no,’ Rose said, and Reginald turned to see what had upset her.
Mitchell, of course, sidling up to them like some sort of street swindler.
‘Miss Wrencrest,’ he said as he approached. ‘I had a mind to ask you if you would do me the honour of accompanying me down to dinner.’
