A Woman of Honour

Chapter 17

As soon as Helen had entered the ballroom, she knew that she needed to be alone to gather her muddled thoughts together. Ralph had entered a couple of minutes before her and had made his way immediately to the dining-room. As the host, he needed to be seen by the other guests. A prolonged absence would only cause speculation.

Even though most of the guests were enjoying the lavish supper laid out in the dining-room, there were still a few groups dotted around the ballroom. She deftly avoided all eye contact and made her way swiftly towards the exit without drawing too much attention to herself. She would have gone to her bedchamber if she had not relinquished it that very afternoon, so she decided the best place to go was the ladies' withdrawing room. At least when she was there, she could make sure that her appearance was still acceptable. She had a suspicion that her dress had been horribly crumpled in the rose arbour, and she could also feel an errant lock of hair tickling the side of her neck.

She dashed up the stairs, hoping that no one would notice her. A smartly dressed maid, who had been standing to attention outside the door of the withdrawing room, opened it as she approached and ushered her in. Helen was relieved to find the place almost deserted. Only a couple of very young ladies, who were more interested in their appearance than Helen's entrance, were giggling in the corner.

Helen crossed over to a long mirror and looked critically at her reflection. She was glad that not many of the guests had seen her, as her appearance was decidedly dishevelled. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips were red and swollen from Ralph's kisses, and the skirts of her dress were hopelessly crumpled. She tried to smooth out the creases in her skirts but to no avail.

'Here, madam,' she heard a maid say behind her, 'let me help you with that.'

The maid rearranged her skirts and with deft fingers tucked the errant lock of hair back into its restraints.

'Thank you,' Helen said, as the maid finished. Apart from the odd crease, the maid could not smooth, she looked far more presentable.

Helen sat down on a chair to rest. She did not want to go back downstairs just yet. She was tired and needed a little more time to order her scattered thoughts. She could still not shake off that sense of foreboding that had disturbed her in the garden and had spoilt the perfect moment between her and Ralph.

'Madam,' the maid said, cutting through her thoughts, 'Mr Hodgson asked me to tell you that you have a visitor.'

Helen sat up. 'A visitor,' she said, looking at the girl in disbelief, 'Are you sure you have the right person?'

'You are Mrs Wakefield, are you not?' the maid said.

'Yes, but...' Her first thought was that something had happened to her son. She felt panic overwhelm her when she thought of Georgie in danger. 'Who is it?' she asked urgently.

'I don't know,' the maid replied, 'but Mr Hodgson is waiting outside for you.'

Hodgson was Ralph's dour-looking butler. Since Helen had been at Belmont Hall, he had barely acknowledged her existence. As the companion of Lady Helford, she was far below his consequence. Helen's mind raced. Her visitor had to be important if Hodgson deemed it necessary to inform her himself.

She sprang towards the door. It had to be Lord Brentford, who else could it be.

The austere butler stood expressionless outside the door of the ladies withdrawing room. 'Mrs Wakefield,' he said, 'you have visitors. I put the gentlemen in the library to await you. They gave me this.'