But she, too, would probably be shocked when she saw Helena unclothed.
That sobering thought extinguished the delight Helena had been feeling at the prospect of a new wardrobe. “Must I disrobe to be measured for gowns? I have not undressed before anyone since my mother left.”
Both women looked at her in surprise. “Surely you had some female to assist you,” Aunt Lillian said.
Helena shook her head. “My father did not risk exposing me to anyone with feminine sensibilities,” she said dryly. “The sole servant I saw after Mama left was the baliff who…helped enforce my father’s dictates.” The less said the better on just what those dictates had been.
“You’ve existed since your mother’s departure with no female company at all?” Charis asked, clearly taken aback.
“None at all.” A more pleasant memory intruded and Helena smiled. “Except for the old medicine woman who lived in our woods—a hermit who’d been there as long as anyone could remember. However, as she dressed all by guess, she was of no assistance in matters of fashion.”
“You poor child,” Aunt Lillian said, her voice shaking a bit. “But you mustn’t worry. In this house, you need do nothing that makes you uncomfortable. The seamstress can measure you in your shift and your maid need only assist you into your gowns. You can manage a night rail alone.”
Relieved, Helena nodded. “Thank you for understanding, Aunt Lillian. But my shift is so old and worn I should be embarrassed to meet the dressmaker in it. Might it be possible for you to purchase something for me before she arrives this afternoon?”
“Of course. Right after breakfast, Charis and I shall proceed to the corsetiere and order a selection of garments to be brought here for you to inspect, while we continue on to the glove and shoemakers. Before Madame Sofie arrives, you shall feel presentable in shift, gloves and slippers.”
Helena rose to hug her aunt. “How can I thank you?”
Lady Darnell kissed her forehead. “By enjoying yourself. We want you to be happy with us, child.”
Emotion rose to choke her throat and for a moment Helena could not speak. For nearly as long as she could remember, the intent of those closest to her had been to make her as unhappy as possible. She almost needed to pinch herself to believe she was awake and this was real, not the dream she’d dreamed every night of the life that would be hers when at last she was with her mother again.
That would never be possible now, but Mama, dearest Mama, had arranged something almost as wonderful. Grief and gratitude swelled in her chest.
“I shall do my best to be happy,” she said at last, “but you must do your parts. Mr. Pendenning assures me that Mama has left me the vastest of fortunes. It would delight us both for you two to choose new garments, too.”
Charis gave a peal of laughter. “Since Bellemere loves nothing better than new fashions, I expect we shall all be blissfully happy.”
Lady Darnell rose. “Come, Charis. If Helena is to be ready to meet Madame Sophie this afternoon, you and I must get to work.” She turned to Helena. “Should you like to rest in your chamber until we return, my dear?”
“Might I go to the library, ma’am?”
“’Tis Adam’s domain, but since he is to be out most of the day, you may certainly inspect it if you wish.”
“Are you a great reader?” Charis asked.
Helena paused, trying to frame the most innocuous reply. “I spent my happiest hours after Mama left in the library,” she said. Which was true enough.
“I do love the works of Mrs. Burney,” Charis said, and sighed. “The events were exaggerated, of course, but oh, how brave were the heroes and how fiendish the villains!”
Once again, Helena hesitated before answering. Heroes truly were the stuff of fiction and as for villainy…The images flashed into mind before she could stop them: the restraints, the whip, the airless, lightless priest’s hole where she had nearly lost her wits.
Shaking off the memories, she replied, “Isolated as we were, Mama taught me to love reading, but she preferred Scott, Shakespeare and the poets. Also the French philosophers—Pascal, Montaigne, Voltaire. Though truly, I read almost everything—travel journals, philosophy, mathematics. I would love to explore foreign lands.”
“You sound like quite the bluestocking!” Charis said. When Helena looked at her, uncomprehending, she explained, “A lady of vast education is known by that term—not a very complimentary one. I’m afraid it isn’t considered admirable for a lady to be too learned.”
Helena widened her eyes. “Society values ignorance?”
“Not precisely. I’m making a muddle of this.” Charis looked to Lady Darnell. “Could you explain, ma’am?”
“Of course a young lady can’t be ignorant,” the other lady replied. “She must be able to manage a household, stitch and embroider competently, and deal with servants and tradesmen. ’Tis desirable that she sing and perform pleasingly on the pianoforte or the harp and play well at cards. Some competence in reading French or Italian is also permissible, but a lady shouldn’t fatigue her mind with too much book-learning.”
Helena laughed ruefully. “Then I’ve acquired almost no useful knowledge at all. I haven’t set a stitch in years and have no idea how to get on in Society or manage a household. But if learning is so despised, why does anyone keep a library?”
“Oh, ’tis quite acceptable for gentlemen to be educated. But the gentler sex isn’t equipped to comprehend foreign tongues or study ancient literature—gods and goddesses cavorting about in the most unseemly fashion! And gentlemen don’t admire a lady who seems too…knowing.”
That she could believe, Helena thought acidly.
“You are far braver than I,” Lady Darnell continued. “I do not stir from London without two grooms to ride post and John Coachman on the box with his blunderbuss! To think of you traveling all alone on the mail coach is enough to give me palpitations, to say nothing of envisioning you in heathenish foreign lands!”
She shivered. “Pray, do not speak of it again. Having just found you, it is our earnest hope that we can make you so comfortable that you shall never wish to leave us. But enough,” she concluded as Helena sat mute, overwhelmed for the second time by Lady Darnell’s generous affection. “We must be going, Charis, if we are to complete our commissions and return betimes.”
After the ladies left, Harrison led her to the library. For the next hour, Helena explored with delight the treasures of this well-stocked room.
What a marvelous retreat this would make! she thought, selecting several volumes from the shelves. However, if this were Lord Darnell’s domain, she would not have unlimited use of it. She would have to ask Harrison every morning about his master’s schedule for the day.
Her inventory of the library’s holdings complete, she gazed around the room, taking in the sofa and two wing chairs before the hearth and the massive desk in the corner. Adam Darnell’s desk, of course.
Though her first impression told her this man would not be her enemy, best to learn as much as possible about the master of the household in which she now resided. Curiously she walked over to inspect his desk.
A stack of ledgers occupied one corner; an inkstand, quills and nibs were set at the center above several sheets of blank paper. To the other side was an assortment of books—Plato, Cicero and Voltaire, along with The Compleat Farmer and An Account of Operations at Holkham Estate.
If the desk were an indication of the character of the man who used it, Adam Darnell was neat and organized, a careful landlord and something of a scholar. He was certainly handsome, she recalled, some unnameable something stirring within her at the memory, and he seemed kind.
Still, it might be wise to explore the remainder of the house before the ladies