He reached for her again, in real alarm this time. But she tore her arm out of his grasp and started to run toward the house. She stumbled once, but she picked herself up before she fell completely to the ground, and continued to run. Mainwaring stayed where he was, watching her panicked departure and listening to her sobs. Finally, as she disappeared through the door, he began to hurry and then to run after her.
Two tables had been set up for cards in the drawing room. The only guests who were not playing were Elizabeth Denning and Mr. Simms. The latter was seated at the pianoforte, playing apparently for his own amusement. Elizabeth was standing behind her husband's chair, looking at his hand of cards, when William Mainwaring entered the room. He crossed to the tea tray, which was still set on a table close to the fireplace, and looked speakingly at her.
She smiled and walked toward him. "Are you ready for tea, William?" she asked. But when she looked more closely, she could see that his face was pale and his hair disheveled from the outdoors. "What is wrong?"
"Elizabeth," he said, placing himself so that his back was to the company, "go to her, please. She is probably in her room and she is very upset. She may need you."
"Lady Helen?" she asked, her eyes large with surprise. "Oh, no, William. I am not the person to speak with her. If there is something seriously amiss, one of her sisters should be sent up to her. Shall I call Lady Emily?"
"Elizabeth, please," he said. "Her sisters will not do at all. You have a much better way with people. You will be able to calm her."
"I cannot," she said, her hand creeping up to her throat. "She does not like me, William. I could have no influence with the girl at all. What has happened?"
His eyes were wild, she noticed now. "Go to her, please!" he said. "For my sake, Elizabeth? I love her!"
She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment longer, then turned without another word and hurried from the room. Mainwaring looked after her, the horrible, nightmare suspicion growing in his mind.
No one answered the door to Elizabeth's knock, and the room, she saw when she opened the door hesitantly, was in darkness. But she looked along the corridor, saw that there was a branched candlestick on a table close by, and picked it up. By its light she could see that the room was indeed occupied. Lady Helen was lying facedown diagonally across the bed. She still wore the cloak that she had put on for her walk with William. Her hands were clenched in loose fists on either side of her head. Elizabeth put the candlestick down on a dresser and quietly closed the door.
"Can I be of any help, Lady Helen?" she asked.
There was no answer.
"Will you not speak to me?" Elizabeth said. "I would like to help if I may."
"Go away!" the girl's voice said, muffled by the bedclothes.
Elizabeth sighed. "No," she said, "I will not do that. I can see that something has happened to upset you greatly, and I believe you need company even if you will not admit it. I shall sit here quietly if you do not wish to talk immediately. Shall I take your cloak?" She reached out gently to ease it away from the girl's shoulders.
Helen whirled around on the bed and slapped at Elizabeth's hands. "Leave me alone," she said. "Go away! I do not need you or anybody."
Her eyes were so full of hatred that Elizabeth straightened up and moved back a step. "What have I done to you?" she asked gently. "I cannot recall anything that might have offended or hurt you. But you have always disliked me. I want to be your friend. I believe you need one, Helen. I doubt if I have ever known anyone as unhappy as you."
"What do you know of unhappiness?" Helen asked passionately. She jumped to her feet, tore off her cloak, and flung it at a chair. "For some people life is always perfect, is it not? You have beauty and position. You have a husband who dotes on you and whom you adore. You have a son. You have a home and money and security and… and…"
"Is that what has bothered you?" Elizabeth asked, and she reached out a hand and touched Helen's arm. The girl tensed and pulled away. "I was wrong a moment ago when I said I had never known anyone as unhappy as you. I have known someone. Myself, Helen."
Helen made an impatient gesture and turned away to sit at the end of the bed.
"I have been married for seven years," Elizabeth said, "and only the first two days of that time and the last year have been spent with my husband."
Helen turned her head to look at her, but she said nothing.
"We were separated by the wickedness of two men and by a terrible misunderstanding," Elizabeth continued. "If we had not met again quite by accident little more than a year ago, we might never have learned the truth. Even then, it is miraculous that the truth became known. We were both so bitter by that time, each blaming the other for the separation, that we were reluctant to talk. I still shudder to think that at this moment I might be in Yorkshire, a governess, and Robert might be in London or at Hetherington Manor, alone. You see, Helen, most people suffer to a greater or lesser degree at some time during their lives. Those of us who are very fortunate also know a great deal of happiness. I am fortunate. The last year has healed many of the wounds of the previous six years."
"I did not know," Helen said tonelessly. "I am sorry."
"You need not be," Elizabeth said. "You are quite right. At present I have all the blessings in life that any person could want. Clearly you do not. But my own sufferings have made me sympathetic to those of other people, Helen, and I am a good listener. Will you not confide in me? Sometimes it is far easier to talk to a stranger than to a friend or a relative."
"No, there is nothing," Helen said, shaking her head, "nothing to tell. I am sorry if I have spoiled the evening for everyone. Truly sorry. We will all go home tomorrow and I shall not embarrass anyone with my company again."
"But, my dear," Elizabeth said, "you cannot shut yourself away from all company. You are young and you should be enjoying yourself, meeting other people of your age. Can you not put your unhappiness behind you and start afresh?"
"No," Helen said.
"I see," said Elizabeth. She hesitated. "Is it William, Helen? Has something happened between you two?"
"I said I did not wish to talk!" Helen said sharply. "I hate Mr. Mainwaring."
Elizabeth looked at the girl's sullen face for a few moments in silence. "I am sorry I cannot help you," she said. "If there is anything I can do for you tonight or tomorrow, will you send for me?" When Helen did not answer, she turned and crossed to the door.
"Oh," Helen wailed, "help me. Please help me!" Her hands covered her face when Elizabeth turned, and she doubled over to put her head in her lap.
Elizabeth knelt in front of her and put her own hands over the back of the girl's head. "Oh, what is it, Helen?" she said.
The girl's sobs were so convulsive that she could say nothing for a while. "What am I to do?" she managed to gasp out eventually. "What am I to do? Oh, what am I to do?"
Elizabeth held the girl cradled in her arms. She rocked her, without saying a word.
Helen looked up at last, her eyes filled with tears and horror. "I am increasing," she said. "I am with child."
Elizabeth closed her eyes. "Oh, God," she said.
"I do not know what to do," Helen said, "or where to go. I keep expecting to wake up and find it all a dream. But my dresses are beginning to tighten already. I shall not be able to keep it a secret much longer. Oh, what am I to do?"
"Were you ravished?" Elizabeth asked. "Helen, if it is true, you must have the courage to go to your parents. The man must be brought to justice. You cannot be blamed."
"No," the girl said. "It was not like that. I loved him. Oh, God help me, I loved him. I gave myself willingly. And he left me." Her hands were over her face again.