She must be very careful not to antagonize Mama further. What a dreadful predicament she would be in if her mother's threat were carried out. Not that her parents usually showed such consistency, but she did not want to tempt fate. She would never be able to see William if a groom or a maid were made her constant watchdog.
It would not be so bad, perhaps, she would not be so depressed, if she had not had a presentiment that he uld not come today. She had sat under the oak tree trying to shelter from the chill wind that had arisen since noon and had known that she would not see him. She told herself now, as she had told herself all afternoon, that he would come tomorrow and all would be well. She had nothing to fear until then. They had no engagement for that evening, which might have brought her unexpectedly into William's company.
Helen was so deeply wrapped in her own gloom that she almost missed the interchange between Melissa and her mother. Melly was talking in her complaining whine, Helen's unconscious mind realized, before her conscious mind heard the words.
"But, Mama," Melissa was saying, "I cannot believe that he would have left without a word. Surely something dreadful must have happened to cause him to leave in such a hurry. We were to ride one morning."
"It is most provoking," the countess agreed. "He did appear to show a marked partiality for you. It must have been your excessive modesty, my love, that made him believe that you did not wish the connection. I cannot think what else can have changed his mind."
"Perhaps he thought that because he was a mere mister, he was not good enough for me," Melissa said tragically. "Oh, Mama, what am I to do? We will never find husbands."
"Considering that he is so beneath us in station," Emily added tartly, "I would say that Mr. Mainwaring altogether put on too many airs. He is probably holding out for a duke's daughter. I warned you, Melly, how it would be."
Helen was all attention now. "What has happened to Mr. Mainwaring?" she asked.
"You see, Helen," her oldest sister said crossly, "you will have nothing to do with visiting with us, and then you expect us to relay all the local news to you at the dinner table. Mr. Mainwaring has gone, that is what has happened. The neighborhood is buzzing with the news. He gave no warning, you know, and he had several invitations that he had to decline after already accepting them. For once I must applaud you, Helen, in showing no interest in securing an introduction to the man. He did not deserve such notice."
Helen felt somewhat removed from the scene at the table. Her ears were buzzing. Voices seemed to come from far away.
"He is not much loss to the neighborhood," the earl grumbled into his food. "The fellow's just a city dandy, if you ask me. Won't hunt because of the poor fox! Won't watch a cockfight because of the poor birds! It only made me wonder that he did not carry a jar of smelling salts around in his pocket."
"Is he not coming back?" Helen asked. Her voice sounded surprisingly normal to her own ears.
"It seems not, child," the countess said. "In the note he wrote Papa, he explained that he is going to Scotland for the remainder of the summer at least. And his trunks and boxes were sent away from Graystone this morning."
"Oh, Mama, what am I to do?" wailed Melissa.
"Don't fret, my love," Lady Claymore said. "I talked to Papa earlier about going to London perhaps for the winter. It is only right that you girls should have the opportunity to find husbands worthy of your rank and breeding."
"Mama?" Emily looked sharply at her mother, hope dawning in her eyes. "Is this right?"
"Well," the countess said, glancing anxiously at her husband, "Papa said he would see."
Emily talked about nothing else for the remainder of the meal. It was quite beneath her sense of dignity to appear too enthusiastic about the proposed visit, but it was obvious to all that she was very eager indeed to go to London. Even Melissa's mood seemed to lift somewhat when she was reminded of all the parties and entertainments that winter in the city would have to offer. Why, the place must be simply teeming with gentlemen equally as handsome as Mr. Mainwaring, and a good number of them might even have titles.
Only Helen's mind refused even to consider the delights that might be in store for her if only Papa would agree to let them go. She could not think beyond the dreadful fact that she had been abandoned, left without a word of explanation, by the man who had become her lover. She sat rigidly in her chair while the animated conversation of her mother and sisters continued. She ate without even realizing that she did so.
The days following were the worst Helen could ever remember living through. Outwardly she was more sociable and more biddable than usual. She sat with her mother and sisters in the mornings sewing and listening to their conversations. She even agreed more than once to ride with Melly, usually a great trial because her sister always insisted that they ride at a -sedate pace perched on their sidesaddles. Helen was usually a neck-or-nothing person, and she had a shocking habit of swinging one leg to the other side of her horse despite the restrictions of a long skirt, when she thought herself unobserved.
In the afternoons and evenings she did whatever her family had planned, sitting with apparent cheerfulness through endless visits, listening to the invariable topic of conversation: the strange defection of Mr. Mainwaring. One and all now recalled that they had never quite taken to the man. He had always held aloof as if he considered himself better than they. "Toplofty" was the general term of disapproval for the man whose company and favor they had all courted a mere week before.
And Helen listened to the other topic of conversation, which took precedence even over Mr. Mainwaring when her mother and her sisters and she were alone. Although the earl had said only that he would think about it, it was assumed that the proposed visit to London was quite definite. Mama was excited. She had made only one visit to London since her marriage, and that had been a fleeting one of a mere week several years before. She relished the prospect of bringing out three marriageable daughters and of finding husbands for them. There were many old acquaintances whom she could scarcely wait to see again.
Both Emily and Melissa were almost equally delighted by the prospect. Emily had always considered that she was wasted on the company she was likely to meet in the country. Now, at last, she would find her true environment. She would make a brilliant marriage and would be able to behave with amiable condescension whenever she came home for a visit. She did not, of course, put these thoughts into quite such words, but Helen was able to interpret her sister's feelings with some accuracy.
Melissa was suffering from wounded pride. She had fully expected an offer from Mr. Mainwaring. What was worse, she was convinced that everyone else of their acquaintance had expected the same outcome. It was humiliating to find that he had left without a word to her. It was not that she had loved him. Melissa would have scorned to consider such an emotion when thinking of marriage. But he was a handsome and a wealthy man. He would have made a distinguished husband. It was important, now, for her self-esteem, that she find another husband, equally superior to all their other acquaintances. Perhaps more so. In London she would have a chance to meet gentlemen of higher rank than Mr. Mainwaring.
Helen listened and she behaved correctly. The countess eyed her youngest daughter several times during those days with relief. The mention of London had brought about a noticeable change in Helen. Why had she not thought of it before? Of course, the child was very young and she undoubtedly had a great deal more energy than either of the elder girls. It was natural that she should be bored by the very restricted activities of their lives at home. London was just what she needed. There she would have more activities than even her energy could cope with, and there surely she would find some gentleman who would not look too much askance at her strangeness. The child was daughter of an earl, after all, and she would have a le dowry with which to attract attention.