A Woman of Honour

Chapter 6

After Ralph had left Mrs Wakefield at the cottage, he rode back with haste to Belmont Hall. Ralph had always prided himself on being able to control his temper. He rarely lost it, not even when his mother was interfering with his life. However, Helen Wakefield had managed the seemingly impossible; the loss of his self-control.

What type of woman was Helen Wakefield?

In her dowdy grey dress, she looked like the archetypical lady's companion, but in reality, she was nothing more than a whore. He had become all to easily entangled in her web of lies and deceit, and he felt like a gullible fool. He was beginning to believe that she had engineered the whole situation, at the cliff's edge, just to ensnare him.

As he continued to ride his anger began to abate. As he drew near to the Hall, his conscience began to surface, and it started to make him feel uneasy. How could she have known that he would be going to the cliff's that afternoon? He had not even planned to go there himself.

Furthermore, how could he judge her when his behaviour had been entirely dishonourable? She had been right about him. Everything that he had accused her of doing that afternoon; he had done himself. He was no innocent when it came to the art of seduction, and had, on many occasions when he was younger, manipulated circumstances and devised situations so that he could lure women into his bed to satisfy his own lust.

Why was he so angry with her? He should be grateful that he owed her nothing. It was just a physical encounter without the complicated emotional ties such relationships often bring. As she said, they were both adults and capable of making their own decisions. It was not as if they could hurt anyone but themselves.

As Ralph continued to try to convince himself that he should not feel any guilt over his own actions, he could not stop thinking that he had made a connection with her at a much deeper level. It was a bond that could not be broken with a few harsh, hurtful words and some dismissive comments.

Once he approached the stables, his anger had almost gone. He still remembered the first time he had seen her that afternoon on top of the cliffs. She had looked so wildly beautiful with her long, wet hair streaming behind her. If he had not pulled her away from the edge, she would have fallen to her death onto the rocks below. Only deep desperation and a fear of the future drives a person to want to end their life. What had happened to her to make her feel that way about herself?

When he had kissed her, for the first time on the cliff's edge, there had been no artifice in her actions. At that moment, he had understood how she had felt because, at one time, he had thought the same. The emptiness of the world around him was a concept that was all too familiar to him. He knew what it was like when one had lost hope in the present and could not envisage any happiness in the future. He had felt the same way after the death of his father. When he too had stood on top of those cliffs and had felt the lure of the sea below. Ralph swore softly to himself. He had not told her any of those things. Instead, he had succumbed to his base desires when he should have offered her help. The stolen kiss at the cliff's edge should have been enough. However, he had been weak and had yielded all too easily to temptation.

The memory of Helen Wakefield, and what they had done, was now seared on his conscience. He had to try and make amends and apologise for his ungentlemanly conduct that afternoon. He would speak with Tom and see if he could remedy the situation that he had helped create.

'How do you know Mrs Wakefield?' Ralph said tentatively later that evening to Tom.

It had been another intolerably dull dinner, and the evening had only deteriorated when the gentlemen had joined the ladies in the drawing-room after dinner. Watching all the young ladies and their mothers vying for his attention had almost been unbearable. As soon as he could extricate himself, without seeming rude to his guests, he had retired to his study. He had persuaded the reluctant Tom, with the promise of an excellent whisky, to join him. Ralph suspected that his good friend would rather be spending his evening with his rather attractive young wife and he could hardly blame him.