Helena's Bone

Part Seven

When the ladies had retired to their rooms, Philip remained alone in the drawing room. The first evening had gone rather well, despite Aunt Montagu's insult earlier on. She had behaved herself after that. Probably she had seen how much she had hurt him -- though Philip doubted it. Aunt Montagu caring about other people's feelings would be a novelty.

She did not care for Miss Erpingham's, obviously. Philip wondered whether the poor girl had known what she had got herself into when she had decided to take the position as Mrs. Montagu's companion. Most likely not -- or her living conditions before that had been so unendurable that even her living with Mrs. Montagu was an improvement. Which could hardly be -- her entire demeanour as well as the way she dressed suggested that Miss Erpingham was from a good and well-to-do family. Unfortunately, Philip had not had the chance to talk to her a great deal -- Aunt Montagu had kept her busy all the time.

When he had joined the ladies, Miss Erpingham had been reading to Aunt Montagu, and had continued to do so when Aunt Montagu had told her to. Philip had sat down on the sofa and had listened to her -- she had a clear, agreeable voice, and she had been reading very well. When she had finished the chapter, Mrs. Montagu had allowed her to put the book aside, but had almost immediately suggested a game of chess. Philip had spent the rest of the evening watching Aunt Montagu and Miss Erpingham playing chess. He had found out that Miss Erpingham was far better at the game than Aunt Montagu was, but she had let her win nevertheless. Watching the game had been quite amusing -- Miss Erpingham was contemplating every move for some time, her hand hovering over the chessboard, apparently tempted to slaughter Mrs. Montagu, but then making the worst possible move anyway. For a moment, Philip contemplated to offer her his help -- at least then, she would have been able to play as she wanted, and he would most willingly have taken the blame for winning the game. It was what Aunt Montagu would have deserved. Yet, somehow he knew that it would have been Miss Erpingham who would have had to suffer, so he decided not to do anything but watch the game quietly.

Before going to bed himself, Philip went upstairs to check on Jeremy. The boy was fast asleep, but, being an uneasy sleeper, he had shaken off his duvet. It was now tangled around his feet, while the rest of Jeremy's body lay uncovered. Philip took the duvet, disentangled it and tucked Jeremy in. The boy sighed contently and curled up, tightly clutching the bedclothes. Philip remained where he was for a while, spellbound, watching over his sleeping son, and then quietly left the room, heading for his own.

~~~~o~~~~

On entering the dining room the next morning, Helena found that the post had already arrived -- and that, among the letters, there were two for her. One was from Cecilia Harrington, and the other one had been forwarded to her from Hilmerton Park. Grace had not chosen to get into contact with Helena ever since she had left the place, although Helena had written frequently. This letter was not from Grace, either. It was from Uncle Erpingham. This being an extremely rare occasion, Helena opened the letter immediately to see what it was about.

After having expressed his condolences for the loss of her father and regretting that "in those past years we seem to have lost contact", he informed her that he would start his journey to England as soon as possible, to see what he could do for his young relatives. There were "several things he had to settle in England", and meeting his nephews and nieces was one of them.

There was not much news from Cecy, which was not surprising. After all, Helena had met her only the day before yesterday, and she doubted that much could happen in those few hours between their last meeting and Cecy writing this letter. But it was wonderful to see that her friend had not forgotten her, and tried to cheer her up by telling her "what a wonderful place for finding a husband" Bath was. Helena smiled. This sounded as if she had gone to Bath on that sole purpose, and as if Mrs. Montagu had no other object than getting Helena married.

Helena put the letters into her purse and turned her attention to her breakfast. Mrs. Montagu joined her shortly afterwards, informing her that she intended to go to the Pump Room this morning.

"Will not Mr. Carmichael be calling on you, Mrs. Montagu," Helena asked cautiously.

"He will have to wait if he does," Mrs. Montagu snapped. "He cannot expect me to sit around waiting for him all morning."

Helena did not answer. Mrs. Montagu seemed to snub everyone around her, and, what was worse, she seemed to enjoy herself in doing so. She wished Mr. Davies would be here to show his aunt her limits -- somehow she knew he would be quite capable of this, should he finally decide that enough was enough and throw civility overboard. Worrying how Mr. Carmichael would react on this insult, Helena was about to go upstairs to her room and dress for going out when a servant entered the room and told them that "Mr. Carmichael wanted to call on Mrs. Montagu."

"He will have to wait until I have finished my breakfast," Mrs. Montagu said crossly. "Is my nephew not at home? Can he not entertain Mr. Carmichael until I am ready to receive him?"

The servant replied that Mr. Davies was already with his friend, and that they were waiting for Mrs. Montagu in the drawing room. With an indignant huff Mrs. Montagu turned to Helena.

"We will have to postpone our walk to the Pump Room, it seems," she declared. She emptied her cup of tea and got up. "Let us see whether Mr. Carmichael lives up to his reputation," she said.

They entered the drawing room, where Mr. Davies was sitting with his friend, talking animatedly. The moment they came in, both gentlemen rose and Mr. Davies introduced his friend. Mr. Carmichael was a handsome young man, Helena thought, and there was a certain earnestness about him. He greeted them both respectfully, and then asked Helena and Mr. Davies to leave the room, as he "had rather talked to his new patient alone". Mrs. Montagu told Helena to get ready for going out -- they would go on their walk immediately after her consultation with her new physician was finished.

Helena hurried out of the room and was already halfway up the stairs when Mr. Davies told her, with a smile, that there was no need to hurry. "Carmichael will keep my aunt busy for an hour at least. You need not get ready for going out yet. He is a very thorough man, and he usually takes his time for new patients. "

"But will your aunt wish to take as much time with her new physician?" Helena asked, smilingly.

"That is another question," Mr. Davies retorted, "but we will find out about that. Aunt Montagu will survive it if you do not rush to be of service to her every time. She does not expect you, to, either, even if she behaves as if she did."

Not wishing to discuss Mrs. Montagu's manners with her nephew -- especially not after such short acquaintance -- Helena changed the topic and asked Mr. Davies whether he had been long acquainted with Mr. Carmichael.

"Oh yes, we have known each other for ages," Mr. Davies said. "Carmichael and I were at the same college in Oxford."

"You studied in Oxford? So did my father," Helena said.

"That might have been a bit before my days there, however," Mr. Davies said, earnestly.

"I did not mean to imply... "Helena began.

"I know you did not," Mr. Davies answered. "This was just a weak attempt at joking, Miss Erpingham. Do not mark me." He wished Helena a pleasant morning and went to his study. Helena went upstairs and decided to answer Cecy's letter while Mrs. Montagu was still busy.

~~~~o~~~~

When the ladies had left for their morning walk, Philip and Carmichael sat down in Philip's study to talk.

"How is my aunt," Philip asked his friend. "Is there anything seriously wrong with her?"

Carmichael shook his head. "Not at all," he said. "She seems to have been weakened by that cold she has had, but otherwise she is in an excellent condition, considering her age. There is nothing to worry about."

"Good," Philip said.

"The young lady who is with her -- is she a relation of hers," Carmichael asked him.

"No, Miss Erpingham is her companion," Philip answered. "She took my sister's place in Newark House."

"Poor thing." Carmichael said. "How is Jeremy?"

"I have not seen him yet," Philip said, with a smile. "He is keeping to his room. The day before yesterday, he pretended to be sick, and I have told him to stay in his room until he feels better." He gave his friend a grin. "That is, until I allow him to feel better."

Carmichael laughed. "I could have told him he would not succeed," he said. "I used to know his father in university days. There is no trick on earth he does not know."

"Yes, but I am old and grey now."

Carmichael nodded. "At death's door, certainly."

"Have you heard of Miss Mackay lately," Philip asked.

"I have, in fact. Her parents have decided to come to Bath earlier. They will arrive before Christmas."

"You will have to dine with us on Christmas Eve," Philip said. "After all, you cannot leave one of your oldest friends to the mercy of his aunt and her companion at Christmas."

"Not to forget his unruly son," Carmichael said with a wink. "I shall seriously consider it, at least, and I will ask the Mackays whether they want to come along. Sooner or later they will have to meet you, anyway." He rose, announced that he had to see some more patients before lunch and took his leave.

Philip went upstairs to his son's room. He knocked and entered, finding Jeremy sitting at his writing desk, studying some Latin vocabulary.

On hearing his father's greetings, Jeremy turned around and smiled. "Are you going to help me," he asked.

"What do you want me to do?" Philip asked.

"Can you test me? I am not sure if I know everything by heart, and I'm afraid Mr. Phibbs will be angry if I am unprepared for my lesson again."

He handed Philip the Latin book. "Please?" he said. Philip nodded, and began asking his son the vocabulary he had pointed out. When they had finished, Philip told his son that he had done very well -- he had made one or two minor mistakes, but on the whole he had known everything.

"Is Miss Erpingham here," Jeremy suddenly asked.

"Who?"

"Miss Erpingham. Is she here?"

"No, she has gone out with Aunt Montagu. How come you know Miss Erpingham? You have not been out of your room, have you?" Philip cried.

"No, I have not. Miss Erpingham came in here," Jeremy answered. "She found Mephisto in her bedroom."

"What was that cat doing in Miss Erpingham's bedroom?"

"I do not know," Jeremy said. "But he always goes into the spare bedrooms if one of the doors happens to be open. He enjoys lying in beds -- it must be the eiderdown he likes."

"Most likely," Philip said and got up, tousling his son's hair. "Go on studying," he said. "I have got some work to do. By the way, tonight you may dine with us grown-ups, if you want to."

"Will Miss Erpingham be there, too," Jeremy asked eagerly. Philip laughed.

"I think she will," he said, and left his son to his Latin vocabulary. Miss Erpingham had obviously managed to be friends with Jeremy after only one single meeting. Amazing.

~~~~o~~~~

All the world could be met at the Pump Room in Bath, at least this was the impression Helena had when she left it. Mrs. Montagu had encountered several people who were either acquainted with her or had been acquainted with her late husband, and had spent hours talking to them, while there was nothing left to do for Helena but stand next to her, trying not to look too stupid, and waiting until anyone might address her -- which no one did. Being Mrs. Montagu's companion had made her invisible. No one talked to her, and no one asked her any questions. Helena felt as if there were no person in the world as unimportant as she.

When they got back to Pulteney Street, Mrs. Montagu allowed her to have some time to herself. Helena went upstairs to her room and found Mephisto, the cat, sitting in the middle of her bed. He did not move until Helena picked him up -- then he dug his claws into her arm for a moment to express that he did not at all approve of such things. When she started tickling his ears, however, he decided that, for once, he would put up with this.

Carrying the cat, Helena went downstairs to the housekeeper's parlour to return Mephisto to his owner.

"Oh no," Mrs. Doyle exclaimed when she opened the door to let Helena in. "Has he been in your room? I have been looking for him all morning!"

"He was there, sitting on my bed," Helena replied.

"The maid must have left the door open while making your bed," Mrs. Doyle said. "Mephisto grabs every chance to sneak into one of the bedrooms and hide there until there is no one left to drive him out. Thank you for bringing him back. Do you want a cup of tea, Miss Erpingham?"

Helena accepted the offer gratefully and sat down to have a chat with Mrs. Doyle. She informed her of everything going on in the Davies household -- and Helena found out that Mrs. Doyle seemed to relish gossip. The topics varied from Mr. and Mrs. Howard -- "an odd couple but they seem to be happy" -- to Mr. Carmichael and his fiancée -- and finally they arrived at the subject of Mr. Davies and his son.

"I have never seen a man so attached to his son as Mr. Davies is," Mrs. Doyle said. "Which is lucky for both of them -- I have heard of similar cases in which men hated their children for causing their mother's death. But Mr. Davies is different. He is such an affectionate father -- unfortunately, Master Jeremy does little to repay his kindness."

"What do you mean, Mrs. Doyle?"

"Master Jeremy makes a great deal of trouble, Miss Erpingham. Between the two of us, if he were my son..." Mrs. Doyle did not go on, but Helena got a general idea what treatment Jeremy would get if he were Mrs. Doyle's son.

"Boys are a mischievous lot, at times," Helena said quietly. "I know what I am talking about -- I have got two younger brothers."

"Two brothers," Mrs. Doyle exclaimed, and they went on talking about Helena's family. After half an hour, Helena went back to her room to dress for dinner -- with an excellent impression of what life was like in the Davies household, and with the intention to further her friendship with Jeremy Davies.

Part Eight

That evening, Helena made the acquaintance of Mr. Howard. Her impression of him was not too favourable. For the first time, she believed Mrs. Montagu to be right in her opinion of someone -- Mr. Howard was a bore. From the moment he entered the drawing room in Pulteney Street until the moment he left the house several hours later, he did not utter a word unless someone had asked him something. Even then, his remarks were monosyllabic and not always satisfactory.

There was one occasion, however, when he seemed to make up his mind to speak some more. That was when little Jeremy entered the drawing room and was introduced to Mrs. Montagu. Mr. Howard had heard about Jeremy's latest prank and grabbed the opportunity to tell the boy off and to give him a lecture on the importance of Latin lessons. The speech was not only exceedingly boring, but also unnecessary, in Helena's opinion. The boy had already received his punishment from his father, and no one had the right to punish him any further. No one had the right to lecture him, either, apart from, perhaps, the teacher concerned in the case.

Helena looked at the poor boy's crestfallen expression and, without saying anything, offered him the biscuit plate by way of a consolation. At the dinner table, Helena was seated between Mr. Howard and Jeremy, who turned out to be the perfect little gentleman and much better company than his uncle. He entertained Helena with stories about himself and Mephisto, his tutor Mr. Phibbs, and his friend, Oliver, who lived in No. 10.

"How old is Oliver," Helena asked the boy. She was glad to hear that Jeremy had a friend who was his own age. He seemed a bit too grown-up for his age -- a certain sign that he spent too much time in the company of adults.

"Oliver is nine," Jeremy answered. "We sometimes meet to play, but not very often. Oliver is a bore, you know."

"Jeremy," Mr. Davies, who had overheard the remark, said. "This is not a very kind way of talking about your friend."

"Sorry, Father, but I am only saying the truth," Jeremy defended himself. "He never joins in any interesting games."

"Games that you find interesting are always to be treated with extreme caution," Mr. Davies said. "It is clever of Oliver to have found out about that. You should try to be a bit more like him, instead of laughing at him."

"Yes, Father," Jeremy said and kept quiet for a while. Mr. Howard took the chance to talk to Helena and ask her some questions about her family, which she answered readily.

Apart from that, he contributed nothing at all to Helena's amusement, and she was glad when, finally, the ladies left the dining room. Jeremy was allowed to join them for a few minutes before going to bed.

"Now, Jeremy," Mrs. Montagu said. "You seem to be a bright little fellow. Why are you not at school?"

"My father says I am too young," Jeremy said.

"Too young? Nonsense. How old are you? Ten? Eleven?"

"I am eight, Aunt, going on nine," Jeremy said, quietly.

"You certainly do look older," Mrs. Montagu insisted. She did not like her grandnephew to contradict her.

"So you will be going to school next year," Helena said.

"I think so, yes," Jeremy said. "I am to go to Harrow next September." He sounded very proud of this, and Helena smiled.

"You will certainly do well there," she said. "I do believe you will be an excellent student -- and you will find some new friends, of course. Is your friend Oliver going to Harrow, too?"

"No, he has got a private tutor. He cannot go to school. His mother says his health is too delicate. I think he is just too stupid."

"Jeremy," Mrs. Howard exclaimed. "Do not talk about your friend like this! Your father told you so before."

"But this is what I think," Jeremy insisted. "Oliver is not at all ill, no more than I am. He is just a terrible bore, and a sneak into the bargain. If there were other boys I could be friends with, Oliver would be no friend of mine."

Helena's heart went out to the boy who, for want of a real friend, put up with someone whom he did not like. What a lonely life Jeremy Davies must have led! Helena compared it with her own happy childhood at Erpingham Hall. There had been plenty of children about -- Helena had always had someone to play with. But then, Helena also had brothers and a sister. True, her brothers had been much younger than she had been, and she had never had much in common with Grace, but nevertheless, they had been there. There had also been the children of servants. Her father's steward had had two sons who were about Helena's age, and Helena had often gone fishing with them -- until she had turned fourteen and her mother had told her that "a young lady ought not to mix with that lot".

When the gentlemen joined them in the drawing room, Jeremy said goodnight to his father and the guests and then went upstairs to his room.

Mrs. Montagu suggested a game of whist, and the card table was set up accordingly. Mr. Howard had seated himself in an armchair and had picked up the book Helena had read to Mrs. Montagu. It was evident that he did not want to play cards. Helena was to play with Mr. Davies, who, since there was no one else to take part in the game, had to oblige his guests. He was an excellent player, Helena soon found out. They won the first game, and were about to win the second, when Mrs. Montagu decided that she was too tired to go on playing.

"Let us finish this game, then," Mr. Davies said, "and leave it at that. We can go on another evening, if you like, Aunt."

Mrs. Montagu shook her head and said, firmly, "It may not be a habit of yours to think of others, Philip, but I am old and weak. I need a good night's sleep much more than young people, to be sure." With these words, she rose and left the room, telling Helena not to stay up too late "as she was going to start her day early tomorrow."

"Aunt Montagu has never been a good loser," Mr. Davies said when Mrs. Montagu was safely out of earshot. "I am very sorry, Miss Erpingham, but it seems we will have to postpone our triumph to some other day."

"Never mind, sir," Helena said with a smile. "It would not have been much of a triumph anyway, with your aunt being offended."

Mr. Davies laughed. "What about a game of chess instead?" he asked Helena. "When you played with my aunt yesterday I noticed you were a good player."

"I lost, Mr. Davies."

"I know. One has to be an excellent player to manage losing against Aunt Montagu."

Helena laughed. "I see you have found me out, Mr. Davies. Was I that obvious?"

"Not to Aunt Montagu, to be certain, or she would have told you so," Mr. Davies replied. "She does not approve of such methods, you know. Aunt Montagu is the sort who wants to win honourably but makes a fuss if she loses. It is not that she means to be disagreeable, but she is used to having things her own way."

"Heaven knows she is," Mrs. Howard sighed and, with a look at her husband, who was by now gently snoring in his comfortable chair, got up. "It seems we should get home, too," she said with a smile. "I hope you will not mind my joining you tomorrow, Miss Erpingham. My aunt said she wished me to come along."

Helena did not mind at all. She liked Mrs. Howard, and perhaps, with Mrs. Howard there would be someone to talk to, at least. No one marked her when she was alone with Mrs. Montagu.

Mr. Davies took leave of his sister and brother-in-law, and then returned to the card table. "So, what about that game of chess?" he asked. "Are you going to play or do you want to follow my aunt's advice and retire early?"

A look at the clock assured Helena that it was not yet late, and she decided that there was still enough time for a quick game of chess. As Mr. Davies set up the chessboard, Helena said, quietly, "I have to congratulate you on your son, sir. I think Jeremy is a wonderful child. He has the admirable gift of making friends easily."

Mr. Davies smiled fondly -- it was a smile that made him look quite attractive. "Oh yes, he has," he said. "He inherited it from his mother -- among other things. Yet, he got too much mischievousness from his father to be quite as pleasing in his manners as she was."

"Is his father mischievous," Helena asked. "I did not notice anything."

"Not yet," Mr. Davies answered with a smile. "I do not usually show off my faults at such short acquaintance. -- About my son, Miss Erpingham, I sometimes think I am not handling the thing properly. I may be a bit ... over-indulgent with him."

"I do not think so," Helena said. "As far as I could tell by your behaviour tonight, I think you are not. Jeremy knows the difference between what is right and what is wrong."

"It is hard sometimes," Mr. Davies admitted.

"I know. My mother died when I was fourteen, Mr. Davies, and left my father alone with four children. Yet, he managed very well -- and so do you, if I may say so."

"Quite so. I manage," Mr. Davies said, and made his first move. Helena realised that, as far as he was concerned, the conversation was finished, and did not attempt to continue it. They played their game silently, and after Mr. Davies had accepted his defeat (he did so very graciously), Helena retired to her room.

~~~o~~~

Mrs. Howard's presence, the next day, did not much to make Helena's lot easier. Though she was kind enough to talk to Helena while they did some shopping in Milsom Street, as soon as the three ladies arrived at the Pump Room, Helena was invisible again. Mrs. Montagu and Mrs. Howard were conversing with their acquaintance, and after having introduced Helena -- not by name, but as "Mrs. Montagu's companion" -- Helena was at leisure to look about her and watch the people in the room. Suddenly she saw a familiar face in the crowd -- it was Mr. Carmichael, and he was in the company of two ladies and two gentlemen. He noticed her, and came towards them.

"Miss Erpingham, am I right?" he asked. "How do you do?"

Glad that at least someone had taken notice of her, Helena greeted Mr. Carmichael delightedly.

"I see my patient is here as well, as is Mrs. Howard. Good morning to you, ladies." Mrs. Howard replied to Mr. Carmichael's salute quite affably, while Mrs. Montagu only gave him a nod.

"I see you have guests, Mr. Carmichael," Mrs. Howard said, glancing at the young lady in his company.

"True. They only arrived this morning and wished to be shown around in Bath as soon as possible." He beckoned the young lady and introduced her as Miss Flora Mackay, his fiancée. The rest of their party were Miss Mackay's parents and her brother.

As the parties moved on, Helena was walking side by side with young Mr. and Miss Mackay, and they soon started a delightful conversation with her. After having satisfied each other as to their homes, families, likes and dislikes, they had to part, but Helena had a very favourable picture of the Mackay family. She knew that Mr. Davies and Mr. Carmichael were friends, and hoped that this friendship would take the Mackays to Pulteney Street very often. It would be nice not to be invisible, for a change.

Part Nine

Flora Mackay turned out to be a valuable friend. She and her brother accompanied Mr. Carmichael when he called on Mrs. Montagu the next day, and while her employer was busy, Helena was at leisure to talk to them a bit more.

"I like your dress," Miss Mackay said. "It looks as if it had been made in London."

"So it has," Helena said, smilingly.

"I wish I could have gone to London to buy my trousseau, but I had to content myself with Edinburgh." Miss Mackay smiled. "Not that I have anything against Edinburgh, mind you, but it takes some time until word of the latest London fashions reaches our town."

"Which is a big drawback, of course," Mr. Mackay said, mockingly.

"Oh, you do not care, I know," Miss Mackay said to her brother. "Miss Erpingham, my brother cannot tell one gown from the other."

"Yes, I can," Mr. Mackay protested. "I can tell by the colour."

"Credit where credit is due," Miss Mackay retorted. "He calls eau-de-nil greenish, Miss Erpingham. And my ivory ball-gown is, according to my brother, yellow."

"I must admit," Helena said, "that my brothers are lacking in their ability to appreciate ladies' fashions, as well. But I have not given up hope yet. Now that they are going to be in my sister's care during the holidays, they will be taught everything they need to know. Anything my sister does not know about the latest fashion is not worth knowing."

Mr. Mackay muttered something that resembled "Poor lads", which was, in Helena's opinion, too true to be contradicted. Lady Woodward's taste in clothes, however, was not the main reason.

"I was wondering, Miss Erpingham," Miss Mackay began, thoughtfully, and, after a pause, continued, "I was wondering whether Mrs. Montagu might be able to spare you one of these days. You see, my mother and I want to buy some draperies for the house in George Street, and unfortunately our tastes are not quite the same. I should be very glad to have some person with me who can give us impartial advice."

"But will not your mother take offence," Helena asked. "I am quite certain my mother would have. I would not wish to displease Mrs. Mackay."

"You could not offend my mother even if you tried, Miss Erpingham," Mr. Mackay said. "Do consider coming along with my sister."

"I shall have to ask Mrs. Montagu first, of course," Helena said. "I cannot go without her permission."

"Of course," Miss Mackay replied. "I shall ask her, if you want to."

Helena declined this offer. It was she who wanted something from her employer, and she did not like to give the impression that she was pushing others to step forward for her to get what she wanted.

~~~o~~~

Helena waited until the evening, when she was seated in the drawing room with Mrs. Montagu, to ask for her permission. Carefully she explained why Miss Mackay wanted to have her with them, and pointed out that, so far, she had not had much time to herself since their arrival in Bath.

Mrs. Montagu thought for a while, before she hesitatingly granted Helena her consent to spend one day with the Mackays.

"Although I do not feel too comfortable about it," she added. "Who knows what sort of people they are?"

"They made a perfectly respectable impression on me, Mrs. Montagu," Helena said. "Every one of them. Besides, I am certain Mr. Carmichael would not think of marrying Miss Mackay if there were the slightest doubt as to her being well-bred. He has a reputation to keep up, Mrs. Montagu, and, as you will have noticed, he is a gentleman."

"I only said that I feel uncomfortable about letting you go about town with people you hardly know, Miss Erpingham," Mrs. Montagu said, sourly. "But you are old enough to know what you are doing, I guess. Just make sure to tell me in time, so I can find another companion for my walk."

"I certainly will, Mrs. Montagu," Helena said and picked up the book to read another chapter to her employer. Shortly after that, Mr. Davies joined them and sat down in the easy chair, listening intently to Helena's reading.

Helena retired early that night, following Mrs. Montagu's example. She was extremely tired, and fell asleep at once, not noticing that a black, furry creature emerged from under her bed, jumped onto it and curled up at her feet. Mephisto was not going to give up his favourite spot, it seemed.

~~~o~~~

"I do not want to spend the afternoon with Oliver," Jeremy complained. "Please, Father, do not make me go."

"What is it this time, Jeremy," Philip asked, annoyed by his son's denial.

"I cannot stand Oliver and his friends," Jeremy answered. "Last time I was with them they ignored me all the time, so why should I join them in the first place?"

Mrs. Jenkins, Oliver's grandmother, had invited Oliver and all his friends including Jeremy to a children's performance at the local theatre. Philip, glad that his son could have some amusement with children at his own age, had gladly consented that Jeremy should go -- only to be rewarded with his son's point-blank refusal. An argument was the very last thing Philip wanted at the moment, yet he felt that, if he gave in now, he would have to do so again and again. Which he did not want. Jeremy had to accept that his father, not he, was the boss in this family.

"Perhaps you should just make a little bit more of an effort," Philip said. "I know you -- probably you showed them clearly that you did not want to have anything to do with them. Try to be a bit more encouraging. Come, Jeremy, it will not hurt."

"Sitting in the theatre for hours with Oliver the sneak and Dumb Geoffrey Hellstone," Jeremy muttered.

"His name is Geoffrey Halston, Jeremy."

"But he is dumb," Jeremy defended himself. "Thick as a brick, and mad as hell."

"Who taught you such language, Jeremy?" Philip asked, all amazement.

"You did."

"I certainly did not," Philip said, racking his brains as to whether he had ever used offensive language in the presence of his son. He was shocked to find out that he could not swear to the opposite.

"Do I really have to go?" Jeremy asked, using his ultimate weapon, the Pleading Puppy Look.

For a fraction of a moment, Philip was wavering, but finally said, "Yes, you do. Emily will help you to get ready, and Mrs. Jenkins will come to pick you up at three o'clock. Try to have fun, at least."

In a way Philip understood Jeremy, although he did not admit it. It was a pity that there were not more children around. But it was important for Jeremy to associate with children who were his own age or at least near it, and since Oliver was the only one around, he would have to do. He was a well-behaved boy, and Philip hoped that his good breeding would set an example for Jeremy.

~~~o~~~

"Where did you meet Mr. Carmichael for the first time," Helena asked Miss Mackay on their shopping expedition. "In Edinburgh?"

"He used to work for my father," Miss Mackay answered. "He needed to gain some experience in his profession, and my father was acquainted with his uncle, so my father took him in. I did not really like him at first." Miss Mackay smiled.

"So what made you change your mind?" Helena asked when Miss Mackay did not go on.

"He did. I do not know how he did it -- I do believe he had set his mind on me from the very beginning, and he did everything to win my heart. He really made an effort, and I think that did it in the end -- the thought that there was a man prepared to do anything for me just to call me his own. I could not help but fall in love with him."

"I think Mr. Carmichael will be an excellent husband," Helena said.

"I have no doubt he will," Miss Mackay said. "I would not marry him if I had."

"When will the wedding take place?" Helena asked.

"We will get married at Epiphany," Miss Mackay said. "In St Swithin's Church. Do you think you will be able to come? I will need a bridesmaid."

Helena blushed happily. "You want me to be your bridesmaid?"

"Oh yes, if you can spare the time, that is, I would love you to."

"It will be an honour," Helena said.

Mrs. Mackay joined them with a salesman in tow, and they spent the next hour discussing fabrics and patterns. They finally settled on one fabric for the drawing room draperies and another one for the upholstery in said room, and set out in the direction of another shop.

When they had finished their shopping, Mrs. Mackay invited Helena to have some tea with her and her daughter at their lodgings, and Helena was only too happy to accept. The Mackays had been so friendly to her ever since their arrival, they treated her better than anyone else -- apart from Mr. Davies and Jeremy, of course. They had, so far, been her only friends in Bath. The ladies sat in Mrs. Mackay's parlour when the gentlemen of the family arrived, proudly announcing that they had finally been successful in purchasing the perfect wedding present for the happy couple.

"And what have you bought," Miss Mackay asked her brother.

He laughed. "As if I would tell you," he said. "You will find out on your wedding day, not a day sooner, sister. The greatest pleasure in giving presents is the recipient's surprise."

"Fine. I will tease you until you tell me."

"Do so. I am looking forward to it." Mr. Mackay gave Helena a wink and sat down in a chair facing her. "So, has my sister found what she was looking for," he asked.

"I think she has," Helena said. "Her drawing room will be one of the most elegant ones in Bath, I believe."

"I have to warn you before you start describing what exactly you have chosen, Miss Erpingham," Mr. Mackay said laughingly. "As my sister mentioned, I am not especially good at that sort of thing. I'd rather look at the results of my sister's shopping than hear about them. But fire away if you want to."

Helena laughed. "I think no one would have the heart to plague you with a tedious account of our shopping expedition after your confession, Mr. Mackay. It would be cruel to do so, and, whatever you may think of me, I hope you do not think that cruelty is one of my faults."

Mr. Mackay gave her an earnest look. "You have not given me any cause to think so, Miss Erpingham."

"I am glad to have your good opinion, Mr. Mackay."

A quick glance at the clock convinced Helena that she had better be going. Mrs. Montagu would probably already be waiting for her, and Helena did not want to annoy her. So, after having thanked Mrs. and Miss Mackay for their hospitality and having taken leave from the gentlemen, Helena set out in the direction of Pulteney Street.

On arriving there, she found that Mrs. Montagu had not yet returned from this day's walk, and went upstairs to her room to write some letters in her absence.

She had just begun to relate the past few days' events to Cecy, when she heard footsteps run past her room and the door to Jeremy's room slam shut. Curious as to what had happened, Helena went across the landing and gently knocked at the boy's door.

"Jeremy? Is there anything wrong?"

Cautiously, Jeremy opened the door and looked outside, checking the stairs whether there was anyone coming. He had taken off his coat, and Helena noticed two bloodstains on the sleeves of his shirt.

"What has happened, Jeremy," she exclaimed anxiously.

"I gave Geoffrey Hellstone what he deserved," Jeremy said, darkly. "And now my father is going to kill me."

"Nonsense, Jeremy. Your father will not do any such thing. Now tell me what happened."

Helena entered the room, and Jeremy closed the door behind her, relating how Oliver and Geoffrey had teased him all the time, whenever Mrs. Jenkins had turned her back on them, and how Geoffrey had provoked Jeremy until he had hit him in his face.

"But why did you?" Helena asked. "What did he do to make you do that?"

"He said something about my father," Jeremy said. "I cannot tell you what it was -- and I am certainly not going to tell him - and I got so angry I hit him. Unfortunately, I think I broke his nose. Mrs. Jenkins was beside herself, called me a spoilt, evil brat, and said she would tell my father what I had done."

"Oh dear," Helena cried, imagining how Mr. Davies would react on the news. "Did Mrs. Jenkins not hear what that Geoffrey had said?"

"No, she did not, she was too busy gossiping," Jeremy said. "And even if she had heard it, she would not have minded, I guess. Geoffrey and Oliver can do whatever they want. If anything happens, it is always my fault."

"You should tell your father what happened," she said.

"No, I will not, even if he locks me in here for the rest of my life," Jeremy said determinedly. "At least I will not have to see those awful sneaks any more if he does." He sighed. "I guess I am in for a good thrashing this time. My father has never hit me before, but I guess today he will."

"I do not think your father will beat you," Helena said. "What would be the point? One cannot teach one's children not to hit others by beating them up. No, I think you are quite safe."

There was a noise downstairs, and they distinctly heard Mr. Davies calling for his son. "There he is," Jeremy said gloomily.

"Do you want me to stay?" Helena asked.

Jeremy shook his head. "No," he said. "It would not be any use. I guess we will not meet any more before you leave, Miss Erpingham."

"Oh, I think we will," Helena said, giving Jeremy an encouraging smile. "You will see."

~~~o~~~

Helena did not dare to ask Mr. Davies what had passed between him and his son. She wished Mr. Davies had mentioned anything in her presence, it would have opened the door to a discussion of the matter, and perhaps she might have stepped in to help Jeremy - but she did not get the chance.

When Mrs. Montagu asked Mr. Davies where Jeremy was, he simply replied that the boy was in his room and would not dine with them that day, without giving his aunt any information regarding the reason for Jeremy's exile. Mrs. Montagu did not ask either, and so they proceeded to the dining room.

Dinner was a quiet affair that day -- Mr. Davies looked pale and worried, quietly ate his dinner and did not contribute much to the conversation. Mrs. Montagu was not that inclined to talking either -- after having demanded an account of what Helena had been doing all day, she, too, turned her attention to her meal and left Helena to her own thoughts.

After dinner, when the ladies had retired to the drawing room, Mrs. Montagu asked Helena whether she liked the theatre.

"I always attended some plays whenever I was in London, Mrs. Montagu, and I used to enjoy them very much," Helena replied.

"Good," Mrs. Montagu said, "for Mr. and Mrs. Howard have invited us to join them in their box tomorrow evening. They are showing Love's Labours Lost at the Theatre Royal."

This was excellent news, Helena thought. The play would, perhaps, make her forget her own problems -- and the Davies' problems, as well. It was strange how their troubles affected her as well -- her, who had nothing at all to do with them, if one came to think of it. She would have to try to detach herself from their concerns. The last thing she wanted was to give anyone the impression that she was trying to force herself into that family.

Part Ten

It was raining hard the next morning. When Helena awoke, she heard the raindrops on the windowpane, and felt Mephisto, the cat, curled up next to her legs. Helena tickled his head, and he sat up, stretched and purred loudly. Suddenly, he decided that there had been enough display of friendship, hissed and jumped from Helena's bed, heading for the door. There he turned around, and mewed imperiously as if telling Helena to let him out. Helena stopped at Jeremy's door for a moment before going downstairs to have her breakfast. There was no sound from within, and assuming that Jeremy was either still asleep or had gone out, she proceeded to the dining room. Mrs. Montagu was already there and informed Helena that, owing to the bad weather, she intended to stay at home that morning.

"There is one thing you can do for me, however," she added. "I have ordered a couple of books at the library. Will you go and pick them up?"

"Certainly," Helena said. The prospect of going out into the pouring rain did not tempt her, but on the other hand she was not keen on staying in the house in the sole company of Mrs. Montagu either. So, having finished her breakfast and put on her coat and bonnet, Helena set out in the direction of the public library to get Mrs. Montagu's books.

While the librarian was preparing the parcel for Mrs. Montagu, Helena entertained herself with some of the fashion magazines. Some of the latest fashions were really hilarious in her opinion, and she imagined her sister wearing them -- which she would, Helena was quite certain. The librarian finally approached Helena with a parcel of books for Mrs. Montagu, and seeing that the rain had, at least for the time being, subsided, Helena left the library with the intention of walking back to Pulteney Street as quickly as possible, to be there when it started to pour down again. She had hardly stepped out of the building, however, when someone hailed her, and that someone turned out to be young Mr. Mackay. He told her that he had been on his way to the library, too, to get some books for himself and his sister, and offered Helena to accompany her to Pulteney Street.

"But then you will have to postpone your visit to the library," Helena protested.

"I suppose the library will still be open in half an hour," Mr. Mackay said, good-naturedly. "There now, let me carry your parcel, Miss Erpingham."

Not wishing to be rude, Helena handed the parcel to Mr. Mackay without any further contradiction.

"It seems you are an avid reader, Miss Erpingham," Mr. Mackay remarked as they walked down the street side by side.

"I am," Helena admitted, "although those books are not for me. Mrs. Montagu has ordered them and asked me to pick them up at the library. Yet, I guess I will have to read them to her in the evenings."

"Is Mrs. Montagu's taste in books very different from yours," Mr. Mackay inquired.

"Sometimes it is, but most of the time I enjoy reading to her," Helena replied.

"Honestly, Miss Erpingham, is it not boring at times? Attending to Mrs. Montagu, I mean. Doing the same things every day, with not the least prospect of change -- this is quite disheartening, if you ask me."

Helena laughed. "There is not much else I can do, Mr. Mackay," she said. "I think I am quite lucky to have found a position like this. As to boredom, that has never been any of my problems. Boredom is for people who do not know how to employ their time, and I have never been that sort. -- Here we are, Mr. Mackay," Helena said, glad that they had reached her destination. "May I have my parcel, sir? I am certain Mrs. Montagu is already waiting for her books."

Mr. Mackay handed Helena the parcel and said, smilingly, "Until tonight, then, Miss Erpingham. I understand you will be at the theatre with us."

"I will," Helena answered. "Are you looking forward to the play, sir?"

"Very," Mr. Mackay said, took leave and walked off towards the library.
Helena entered the house and found Mrs. Montagu in the drawing room, looking out of the window impatiently.

"Whatever took you so long?" she demanded, hardly leaving Helena enough time to close the door.

"I had to wait at the library, Madam," Helena said calmly and gave Mrs. Montagu her packet. Mrs. Montagu unwrapped it and inspected its contents. "One is missing," she said, angrily.

"There are only three, and I had ordered four. Where is Evelina?" "There must have been a mistake at the library," Helena said, still appearing calm but longing to dash something to pieces. "I did not know how many books you had ordered, Mrs. Montagu - a couple of books was what you had mentioned to me. I told the librarian that I was there to pick up Mrs. Montagu's order, and this is what he gave me. It can hardly be my fault."

"Had you paid attention to what the librarian was doing instead of flirting with Mr. Mackay, this might not have happened," Mrs. Montagu said, maliciously.

Angrily, Helena said, "I do not think my behaviour with any gentleman of my acquaintance deserves your censure, Madam -- I can hardly ignore Mr. Mackay when he comes my way in the street. As to Evelina, I will go to the library tomorrow and ask for it."

"You will go at once," Mrs. Montagu said. "I have been looking forward to that book especially, and I do not see why I am to be deprived of the pleasure to read it because of your carelessness."

Helena was just about to give Mrs. Montagu the answer she deserved, when suddenly a calm, male voice said, "I do not think Miss Erpingham will have to go all the way back to the library for this particular book, Aunt."

Both ladies turned to Mr. Davies, whom they had not noticed up to this moment.

"Evelina used to be one of my wife's favourite novels," Mr. Davies continued, "and I am quite certain you will find a cherished and much-read edition on one of the bookshelves in her room. Mrs. Doyle will show you where it is, Miss Erpingham."

"Thank you, Mr. Davies," Helena said, embarrassed that her employer's nephew had had to witness such a scene.

Mr. Davies turned to his aunt. "You are most welcome to have any book from my own as well as my wife's collection while you are staying here, aunt," he said. "Perhaps it would be prudent to check whether the book you want is available here before you send Miss Erpingham on errands in such weather."

Knowing that Mrs. Montagu would not put up with remonstrance even from her nephew, Helena left the drawing room before the ensuing family quarrel started. She went downstairs to the housekeeper's parlour and asked Mrs. Doyle to show her Mrs. Davies' room. Mrs. Doyle could not help but be surprised, and she said so. She told Helena that she was the first person in years to enter that room -- "apart from the maids, of course, and Mr. Davies, occasionally."

Having important business to do, Mrs. Doyle left Helena to the task of finding the book in Mrs. Davies' shelves and returned to her work. Helena had a look at her surroundings. Mrs. Davies' room was large, and had been kept scrupulously clean. It gave Helena the impression as if its occupant were to return any moment. Every thing was in its place, the paper, inkbottle and quill on the writing desk, and the books in the shelves. Helena wondered whether she were to find Mrs. Davies' clothes if she looked into the closet. Somehow she felt like an intruder, and hurried to find the book for Mrs. Montagu in order to leave the room as soon as possible.

Mrs. Davies seemed to have been an enthusiastic reader, and one with excellent taste, too. In her collection, Helena discovered many books that she had read as well, along with some that she had always wanted to read. Finally, Helena found Evelina, took the volume from the shelf and turned to go. Her eyes fell on a small bouquet of dried roses on the bedside table, and somehow these flowers brought to her mind that the owner of this room would not return. She had never known Mrs. Davies, yet the thought affected her deeply.

It made her think of her own situation, and a feeling of utter hopelessness overcame her. Her position in Mrs. Montagu's household was not what she had imagined it to be, she was little more than a servant, and this was hard on someone who had been used to be in charge of servants. Being treated like a poor, dependent relation when she was really Sir Paul Erpingham's daughter was hard to take. Helena contemplated whether she should leave Mrs. Montagu's service, but then where was she to go? Returning to Hilmerton Park was unacceptable -- no doubt Grace and her husband would take her in, but Helena knew that they would lose no opportunity to let her know how very generous they were by allowing her to live in their house after all she had done to them. Her position there would be little different from her position in Newark House -- or here in Pulteney Street.

Cecy would soon be leaving for the Continent, so she was out of the question, too. The only chance for Helena was her uncle, who was, at present, on his way to England. If all else failed, she could ask her uncle to take her with him to Savannah -- but this would mean she would have to break the promise she had given to her brothers. She had promised she would always be there for them. How could she go to America and leave them behind?

Recollecting herself, Helena returned to the drawing room and handed Mrs. Montagu the book, who took it without a word of thanks. It would not hurt to keep the Savannah opportunity in the back of her mind, Helena thought. How long would it take her uncle to reach England?

~~~o~~~

"I say, Mr. Davies, what a pleasant surprise to see you here," Mrs. Halston exclaimed, affecting a welcoming smile. "And your son, too!"

"You can have no doubt as to the purpose of our visit, Mrs. Halston," Philip said. "Jeremy has something important to say to your Geoffrey."

"Indeed," Mrs. Halston said, and sent her servant to fetch Master Geoffrey to the reception room.

"I hope his injury is not as bad as it looked at first, Mrs. Halston," Philip said, quietly.

"Oh, no," Mrs. Halston said. "Geoffrey felt quite well this morning. My, boys do fight at times, do they not?"

Philip was glad to see that Mrs. Halston, unlike Mrs. Jenkins, did not seem to take the incident seriously. His ears were still ringing when he thought of Mrs. Jenkins's shrill voice as she had predicted Jeremy a first-rate career as a criminal. Geoffrey Halston arrived in the reception room, sporting a magnificent black eye that was, no doubt, another result of close contact with Jeremy's fists.

"Jeremy," Philip said to his son, "you know what I told you. Apologize. Properly."

Jeremy went over to Geoffrey, offered him his hand and did apologize properly, although, perhaps, his tone was lacking in sincerity at times. Geoffrey accepted the apology graciously, whereupon Mrs. Halston suggested that the boys should go and play while she and Mr. Davies had a cup of tea.

"You will take a cup of tea, won't you, sir," she said. "Go and show Jeremy your new tin soldiers, Geoffrey."

Philip was not really certain whether it was a good idea to let the boys play all by themselves, but refrained from saying so. He had warned Jeremy that any outburst of temperament would be followed by strict punishment, and trusted that such a warning would suffice to keep his son at bay. He could not vouch for Geoffrey, though. The boys went off, however, and Philip believed that not too much mischief could happen in ten minutes. He thanked Mrs. Halston for the tea, and inquired after Mr. Halston who, as usual, was not at home. Mrs. Halston gave Philip all the particulars of why her husband had gone out and where he had gone, although Philip could have sworn he knew more about Mr. Halston's whereabouts than his wife. Having finished his tea in record time, Philip summoned his son and said goodbye to his hostess.

"You see, this was not that bad, Jeremy," he remarked once they were safely seated in their carriage.

"Yes, it was," Jeremy said, stubbornly. "I hope you will not make me visit that Geoffrey any more. I cannot stand him. And he did not apologize for what he said yesterday."

"Is there anything he should have apologized for?" Philip asked. For a moment, Jeremy looked as if he was going to tell him something, but that expression changed in an instant.

"No," he said.

"You cannot expect him to say he is sorry, then," Philip answered. "You know why I wanted you to talk to him?"

Jeremy looked out of the window silently.

"In little less than a year, Jeremy, you will be going to school, and you will be meeting all sorts of boys," Philip said. "Not all of them will be to your taste, and not all of them will be your friends. I do not worry about those you will like, Jeremy, but there will be others. Boys like Geoffrey Halston. You need to learn to get along with all sorts, or there will be a great deal of trouble. Do you understand me?"

There was no answer from Jeremy. Philip sighed. "Do you understand me," he repeated his question.

"I think I do," Jeremy said.

"Good." Philip smiled. "Now let us go and see whether Cook has made her famous chocolate cake, shall we?"

~~~o~~~

Philip dreaded meeting his aunt in the evening. She had openly declared that she did not savour his interference in her business.

"I can deal with Miss Erpingham myself," she had said, coldly. Philip had replied that he could not be expected to stand by and watch someone being blamed unjustly without doing anything about it. Then he had left his aunt to herself, to get dressed for the outing with Jeremy, and had not seen her any more all day.
The Howards were to dine with him before they all went to the theatre, and so his sister and her husband were already waiting in the drawing room when Philip came downstairs, dressed in his evening clothes.

Shortly after that, Miss Erpingham joined the party, and Philip could not help but notice her beauty. She wore a dove-grey silk dress he had not seen on her before, modest but yet becoming. Her hair was done in a different, more elaborate style than usual, and her whole appearance attracted admiration. It was hard to take his eyes off Miss Erpingham, and, which embarrassed Philip most, she seemed to notice he was staring at her. With a smile, she turned to him and thanked him for his assistance with Mrs. Montagu in the morning.

"How is Jeremy," she asked, once they were seated at the dining table. "Has he recovered from yesterday's trouble?"

"I beg your pardon," Philip said. "I did not know it was Jeremy who needed recovery."

Miss Erpingham laughed. "Your son was quite afraid of what you might say, sir," she said. "He really worried about it. I told him that his father would be reasonable enough not to punish him too severely, considering that he had hit that boy after he had abused his father..."

"Abused me?" This was the first time Philip had heard about it -- Jeremy had not said a word. "Jeremy told you that that Halston boy had abused me?"

"Quite so," Miss Erpingham said. "Did he not tell you? I advised him to do so, sir."

"He did not mention a single word. So, what did Geoffrey Halston say to make my son come to my rescue?"

"I do not know," Miss Erpingham said. "Jeremy did not tell me. He only said that he would not repeat it to me -- or you, for that matter. I am afraid he is going to keep us in the dark about it."

Philip laughed. "Now I know why Jeremy wanted Geoffrey Halston to apologize," he said. "But, apparently, he did not -- and I am proud to say that he will be wearing the marks of my son's censure for a while. Do not mention this to Jeremy, Miss Erpingham -- I do not want to encourage such behaviour, even if he had the best intentions in beating up the boy who soiled his father's name."

Dinner was finished, and the ladies retired to the drawing room, leaving Philip to the mercy of his brother-in-law, a man who was, no doubt, one of the most respectable and kindly men he knew, but not the most entertaining one. So he was glad when finally the time to leave for the theatre arrived. Philip arrived in time to help Miss Erpingham into her coat. A curious sensation arose in him as he wrapped the coat round her shoulders -- a feeling of tenderness he had not had for ages. He wondered what it would be like to put his arms around her and hold her... Philip banished the thought -- it would not do for him to think of Miss Erpingham in that way. She was pretty, and she was lovable, no doubt -- but it would not do for him, Philip Davies, to fall in love with her.

Part Eleven

Had anyone asked Philip the next day whether he had liked the performance at the theatre, he would not have been able to answer the question. Had anyone, however, asked him how Miss Erpingham had spent the evening, Philip would have been able to give that person a detailed account. He had been unable to take his eyes off her all evening, had watched her as she had been seated in front of him, had followed her conversation even if she had been unaware of it, and, most of all, had kept an eye on every gesture she had made towards young Mackay. Philip had no right to be jealous, and he was perfectly aware of that, but he could not help being jealous nevertheless. Ever since a certain Miss Constable had entered his life, Philip had not felt like this -- his heart missed a beat whenever Miss Erpingham looked at him, and if she happened to smile, his heart started to melt. In a way Philip hoped Miss Erpingham would leave Bath soon, and leave him to his quiet, untroubled life with his son. At the same time he hoped she might stay forever, knowing that this could not be. When Louisa had died, he had sworn never to attach himself to any woman again. He would rather live without love than losing her the way he had lost Louisa. For the sake of his own peace of mind, he had to forget Miss Erpingham, and he had better forget her quickly. If only his heart would hear reason...

~~~o~~~

"Those Christmas preparations will be the death of me, I am sure," Mrs. Doyle, the housekeeper, said and sat down. "However, I can always spare couple of minutes for a cup of tea with you, Miss Erpingham. Has Mephisto been in your bedroom again?"

Helena smiled. "I have come to believe that my bedroom is actually his, Mrs. Doyle," she said. "If there is any way in which I can assist you, Mrs. Doyle, do tell me."

"This is too kind," Mrs. Doyle said, sipping her tea. "But believe me; I can deal with everything very well. Mr. Davies always invites his friends to dine with him on Christmas Eve, and we always manage somehow. Though the dinners are not what they used to be when Mrs. Davies was still alive. Now there was a woman who knew how to entertain her guests...but then, things have never been the same ever since she has passed away. You should have known Mr. Davies before that happened -- the world has never seen a more charming, amiable man than him."

Helena did not doubt this. In her opinion, one had to go a long way to find a man as amiable as Mr. Davies.

"He really should find himself another wife," Mrs. Doyle continued. "It is not healthy, living the way he does, and the boy really needs a mother."

Embarrassed, and disapproving of Mrs. Doyle's frankness, Helena tried to divert Mrs. Doyle's thoughts to something more suitable, finished her tea, and left Mrs. Doyle's parlour as soon as possible. On walking up the stairs, however, she nearly bumped into the very man who had been on her mind ever since the evening before -- Mr. Davies.

"Miss Erpingham," he said, obviously surprised at meeting her coming from the servants' rooms downstairs.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Davies," Helena managed to say, and added, "I have been to see Mrs. Doyle -- Mephisto was hiding in my room again, and I took him back to where he belongs."

"Did you manage to do so without being seriously hurt, or do I have to send for Mr. Carmichael," Mr. Davies asked, smilingly.

"Oh, the longer I know Mephisto, the better he behaves," Helena replied. "I do not think I will need Mr. Carmichael's help right now. Thank you all the same, Mr. Davies." Mr. Davies looked rather handsome when he smiled...

"I am glad to hear that cat has something of a gentleman, at least. Although it is not particularly gentleman-like to hide under young ladies' beds."

Helena laughed. "I think I shall forgive him," she said. "He might be doing this for the best."

"His best, certainly. Cats are selfish creatures as a rule, and Mephisto is an especially selfish specimen." He was interrupted by a maid coming downstairs, telling Helena that Mrs. Montagu wanted her. With a barely perceptible sigh, Helena made her way upstairs, nodding to Mr. Davies by way of a goodbye.

Mrs. Montagu received her in the drawing room, holding a note in her hands.

"Ah, there you are," she said. "Whatever took you so long, I wonder? I want you to run some errands for me -- the weather today, I hope, is more to your taste than it was yesterday."

"It is a particularly fine day for this time of year," Helena said meekly. When Mrs. Montagu was in such a mood as this, opposition would be to no avail. Equipped with an enormous list of things to do, Helena set out into town, fully aware that she would have to postpone her meeting with Miss Mackay. Until she had met Mrs. Montagu's demands, there would be no way for her to spend even five minutes in her friend's company.

~~~o~~~

It was Christmas Eve, and Helena was getting ready for the Christmas dinner, which, she had understood, was to be a grand occasion. She would be meeting a great deal of Mr. Davies' friends, and wanted to make a good impression on them -- although why she should care what impression they had of her was a mystery to her. Yet, she did what she could, and spent more time in front of the mirror than usual.

Her efforts were rewarded the moment she entered the drawing room and encountered Mr. Mackay. He obviously appreciated her looks, although he did not say so -- the glint in his eyes when he greeted her was enough to assure her of his admiration. She could not talk much to Mr. Mackay, however. Mr. Davies had appeared by her side, ready to introduce her to those of his friends she had not yet met. Among them was a Mr. Constable, who was a distant cousin of the late Mrs. Davies's, his wife, and two other gentlemen, Mr. Davies's club acquaintances, with their wives.

At the dinner table, Helena was seated between Mr. Mackay and Mr. Constable, and enjoyed herself thoroughly talking to both of them. Mr. Constable, it turned out, had been acquainted with her father, and they spent most of the time talking about Sir Paul Erpingham, while Mr. Mackay listened. A short pause ensued, after Mr. Constable had expressed his sympathy for Helena's loss, after which Mr. Mackay told Helena how disappointed his sister had been the other day, on hearing that Miss Erpingham had not been able to keep her appointment.

"I assume it was Mrs. Montagu's fault you could not come, Miss Erpingham," he said, his tone leaving no doubt as to his opinion of Mrs. Montagu.

"It is my duty to tend to Mrs. Montagu," Helena replied. "Unfortunately she needed my help just then, so I was unable to go for that promised walk with your sister. I hope she understood my reason for deferring my visit."

"She did, Miss Erpingham," Mr. Mackay said. "But she was disappointed nevertheless. So was I," he added with a shy smile. "We have become quite fond of your company, you must know. Flora hopes you will remain in Bath for long -- once my family will be gone back to Edinburgh, she will feel a bit forlorn, I am afraid."

"I hope she will not," Helena said. "With a husband like Mr. Carmichael and his large acquaintance, she will soon feel at home -- with or without me. I do not know how long Mrs. Montagu means to stay in Bath, and I will have to leave when she does."

"I could never put up with being dependent on someone like Mrs. Montagu," Mr. Mackay said, determinedly.

"It is easy for a gentleman to say so," Helena said quietly. "They can pick and choose with whom they want to associate. But I cannot -- there is not much choice I have."

"I thought you had a sister who is married to a gentleman of fortune, Miss Erpingham," Mr. Constable remarked, sounding rather surprised. "I distinctly remember Sir Paul saying something to that effect."

"True," Helena said. "Yet, I had my reasons for leaving her home. I am sorry, sir, but I do not wish to discuss this."

With a nod, Mr. Constable turned to the lady sitting to his left, and left Helena to converse with Mr. Mackay. Mr. Mackay did not refer to Mrs. Montagu any more, but amused Helena with an account of a concert he had attended with his sister. The ladies retired to the drawing room shortly after that, and Helena had the opportunity to sit and talk with Miss Mackay, while Mrs. Montagu was quite happily exchanging pleasantries with Mrs. Howard, Mrs. Constable and the other ladies.

"Have you enjoyed yourself at dinner," Miss Mackay asked, slyly. "My brother did his best to entertain you, as far as I could tell."

Helena sighed. "Could it be that your brother is growing a bit too fond of me, Flora?" she asked.

"No one can ever be too fond of you," Miss Mackay said, smilingly. "You deserve to be loved, Helena. However, I do not want my brother to fall in love with you -- for selfish reasons. If you married him, you would have to live with him in Edinburgh, and would leave me all alone in Bath. No, you need to settle in Bath."

"I see you have already planned my entire future for me," Helena said with a laugh. "You forget that no one in Bath is interested in someone like me."

"Of course," Miss Mackay said. "No one in the world would want to marry a perfectly adorable creature like you. I quite forgot about that. I am afraid you are an impossible case, Miss Erpingham. -- As to my brother, do not worry about him. In two weeks, he will be gone. Not much harm can be done in such a short time. Now, you must try to convince Mrs. Montagu to let you go out with me one of these days."

They talked on, making plans for that day when Mrs. Montagu would allow Helena to leave her for an hour or two, plans that included a visit to the local library, a milliner's shop in Milsom Street, and Molland's. Miss Mackay was certain that Helena did not get outdoors often enough, and promised this would change once she was married and in the position to be Helena's chaperon. "You need to get around some more," she said, her tone indicating that opposition would be in vain. "How are we to find you a husband in Bath if you do not leave this house?"

At this point, Mrs. Howard, who always played the part of the hostess in her brother's home, announced that Mrs. Constable had volunteered to entertain them with some music. As Mrs. Constable prepared for her performance, the gentlemen joined them, and Mr. Mackay hurried to take the seat next to Helena. Mr. Davies, who had been the last gentleman to enter the drawing room, remained standing next to the door, and listened to Mrs. Constable's concert with a rather gloomy face.
After Mrs. Constable had played three airs, Mrs. Howard suggested a game of cards, and the card table was set up. Helena, who was not very fond of card games, was happy to see that, this evening, her participation was not needed. She turned to Mr. Davies, and asked him why his son had not been with them at the dinner table.

"I think he is a bit too young to dine with a large party of guests," Mr. Davies said, earnestly. "I do not mind his dining with us when there is not much company, but he has yet to learn how to deal with a larger group of guests. He will be dining with us and the Howards tomorrow, though."

"I am glad to hear it," Helena said with a smile. "I believe we have become quite good friends, and I admit I miss him."

"Well, so far he has not played a trick on you," Mr. Davies said with a hint of a smile. "Which says a great deal. He only plays tricks on people he does not like. His tutor, for example, or Mrs. Doyle."

"Show me the boy who does not play tricks on his teacher at times," Helena said. "My brothers were quite bad in that respect. My father had a hard time finding tutors to replace the ones who could not bear the strain on their nerves any more. It must be hard to live in constant dread of one's pupils. But my brothers behave better now that they are in Eton. I hope."

"No doubt they do," Mr. Davies said, but he said so with a grin that told Helena he was not quite serious. At this moment, his sister demanded Mr. Davies' presence, and he left Helena with an apologetic smile. Helena watched him join his guests, talking to his sister animatedly, and laughing at one of Mr. Howard's rare jokes. Tonight he was quite different from the earnest Mr. Davies she knew, and she liked the change in him. Then Miss Mackay, who had been talking to her fiancé, returned to Helena, and for the time being her thoughts turned to Miss Mackay and her impending wedding. But as soon as the guests had left and Helena had retired to her room, her mind returned to Mr. Davies, and he remained in her thoughts until she fell asleep.

~~~o~~~

Unnoticed by the residents of Bath, it had begun to snow, and on Christmas morning the town was covered with a blindingly white blanket. There was not much snow, but enough to make Jeremy long to go outside before it would melt away again. He was not allowed to go out by himself, but his wish became so pressing after a while that he went downstairs in search of his father to ask for his permission. The only person he found, however, was Helena, sitting in the breakfast room reading a letter.

"Good morning, Jeremy," she said, smilingly. "You are at home? My brothers, I am certain, would have gone out long ago, were they in your place."

"I am not allowed to go without asking," Jeremy said sulkily. "And I am not to leave the house unattended. Either my father, or Emily, or Mr. Phibbs have to go with me. I do not mind my father," the boy admitted, "but Emily and Mr. Phibbs are tedious company."

"What if I were to join you?" Helena asked. "Do you think your father would object?"

"He never forbade it," Jeremy said.

Helena laughed. "This is not the same thing as allowing it," she said. "But I guess not much harm can be done if the two of us put on some warm clothes and go and build a snowman or have a snowball fight in the park. What do you say?"

"That would be capital," Jeremy exclaimed, and ran back upstairs to fetch his overcoat. On his way he met his father who, having just got up, made his way downstairs. With an amused smile Mr. Davies let his son pass and entered the breakfast room, where he found Helena.

"Good morning, Miss Erpingham," he said, smilingly.

Helena returned the greeting and announced that, if Mr. Davies had no objection, she would go to the park with Jeremy.

"So this was why he nearly ran me over on the stairs," Mr. Davies said.

"I hope you do not mind my making a decision before I had the chance to ask you, sir," Helena continued. "But Jeremy seemed so eager to go out, and I thought there would not be any harm in it."

"There is not, Miss Erpingham. What are you going to do in the park, may I ask?"

Helena laughed. "I promised Jeremy a snowball fight, so I suppose I am in for it."

Mr. Davies smiled. "Sounds tempting," he said. "Is this some personal feud of my son and yours or may one join in?"

"I do not see any reason why you should not, sir," Helena said encouragingly.

"Fine. If you will be so kind as to hold back my son until I am dressed fit for the adventure, Miss Erpingham, I shall gladly come with you."

Helena nodded assent, and Mr. Davies left her alone in the breakfast parlour.

A quarter of an hour later, they all set out into the direction of the park. Jeremy was running ahead of them, finding it too hard to restrain himself any longer, and once they had passed through the park gates he received them with a shower of snowballs. Mr. Davies picked up a handful of snow, and began to defend himself valiantly. Helena, too, took an active part in the battle and, for a couple of minutes, quite forgot that she was no longer a child. She was back on the grounds of Erpingham Hall and playing with her childhood friends.

A couple of boys had come towards them and had joined the sport. Mr. Davies, recollecting himself, left the group of boys and leaned on a tree, watching his son play. He was a bit out of breath, but looked happier than Helena had ever seen him before.

"The exercise seems to have a good effect on you, Mr. Davies," she said, absenting herself from the group of boys and walking towards Mr. Davies. She took off her wet gloves and rubbed her hands together.

"Are you cold?" Mr. Davies asked with a concerned look. "I will call Jeremy and we shall return home."

"Oh, do not spoil his fun just now," Helena begged. "I am not in the least cold -- when I was a little girl, I used to stay outside in such weather all the time without getting as much as a cold. Let him play for a while! He meets with other children so rarely!"

"Unfortunately," Mr. Davies said, quietly. After a short pause, he said, "This reminds me of the snowball fights we used to have at home when we were children -- my brother, some of the stable lads and me. What fun we had!" He laughed quietly.

"Did your sister take part as well?" Helena asked.

"Emma? No, she did not. She was too much of a little lady to do such a thing -- on the contrary, whenever she saw us, she used to report it to my father. She was not very successful, however, my father was convinced that boys would be boys in all circumstances. He simply told us not to keep the stable lads from their duty, that was all."

"This sounds as if you had a happy childhood, sir."

"Oh yes, I had. I sometimes feel I should move to the country for Jeremy's sake. In the country, there is so much to do for a child -- here, in town, I can hardly let him go out by himself. Why, back home in Wiltshire we used to go fishing at dawn and not come back before nightfall, and no one ever worried about us. I think I shall send Jeremy to my brother's in spring. He will be quite happy with his cousins, I believe."

"Does your brother have many children?"

"Four sons. As fine a set of boys as one will ever see," Mr. Davies replied with evident pride.

"Four sons!" Helena exclaimed. "Mrs. Davies will have a hard time restraining their temperament, I am sure."

"I believe so, yes. But my sister-in-law is a very down-to-earth person, not at all prone to nervous complaints, and rules the household with an iron fist. The sort of woman both my brother and his sons need." Mr. Davies laughed pleasantly.

Helena shivered. It was getting cold by now, and she longed to go back home, but she did not want to ruin Jeremy's morning. Yet, Mr. Davies had noticed her shudder.

"You are cold, Miss Erpingham," he said softly and began to unbutton his coat. "Here, take this," he said. "I will go and fetch Jeremy, and we will return home. A cup of tea or hot chocolate will soon set you to rights." He gently put his coat around Helena's shoulder and went off into the direction of the playing children. Jeremy, on realising what his father wanted, said goodbye to his new friends and ran towards him at once.

"What a brilliant idea this was, Miss Erpingham," he exclaimed. "I wish it would snow every day! Father, don't you think so, too? Miss Erpingham, you do look funny wearing my father's coat. Are you very cold?"

Helena shook her head, smilingly. "But I do not mind our going home now," she said. Jeremy pouted for a moment, but listened to his father's reasoning and agreed that they should return to Pulteney Street, where, by now, a nice cup of hot chocolate would be waiting for them.

Part Twelve

It was not before the New Year had begun that Helena was finally at leisure to spend a whole afternoon in Flora Mackay's company. Old friends of the late Mr. Montagu's had arrived in Bath, and Mrs. Montagu had decided to call on them, accompanied by her niece, Mrs. Howard, whom they had particularly wished to see. So, Helena was graciously allowed to "visit Miss Mackay, if she had to", and Helena made haste to do so before Mrs. Montagu would change her mind.

For a comfortable half-hour they were seated next to the window in Molland's, watching the passers-by and commenting on them and their attire whenever it was especially ridiculous. In spite of being such a kind-hearted person, Flora had a sharp tongue and was not afraid to use it for the entertainment of her friends. After a while, however, their conversation turned to the more gratifying subject of Flora's marriage, which was to take place the day after the next.
"Are you very nervous?" Helena asked.

"Sometimes I am, sometimes I am not," Flora admitted. "It depends on whether there is someone around to calm me or not. Please do not get me wrong -- Mr. Carmichael is the best of men, and the thought that I will be married to him shortly does make me very happy, yet I feel that this is going to be such a change..." She sighed. "I am not so much afraid of the wedding," she continued, "but of the years and years after that. I wonder whether I will be able to make my husband happy, or whether I shall bore him after the first couple of weeks."

"I can assure you that life with you cannot be boring," Helena said with an encouraging smile. "As Mr. Carmichael well knows, I am certain. He looks like the sort of man who would not attach himself to anyone without giving the matter some thought beforehand. I am convinced that Mr. Carmichael would not have offered for you, had he not been certain that he needed you to be happy."

"I hope you are right," Flora sighed. "You know what I am really looking forward to? Our wedding tour -- Mr. Carmichael will take me to London. I have never seen London before. I suppose you have."

"Yes, I was in London a couple of times," Helena replied. "It is not far from my home, and my father spent a great deal of time there. It would have been better for us if he had not." For a moment, Helena thought bitterly of her father's "friends", none of whom had ever called on his family after his death, apart from those wishing to collect the money he had owed them. "Be sure to make the most of it, Flora. London will provide you with ample sources of amusement for weeks."

"Too bad you cannot join us."

Helena laughed. "I'd rather not hear what Mr. Carmichael would have to say on that matter if I did," she said. "Has anyone ever heard of a young wife taking one of her friends with her on her wedding tour? I would be in everyone's way, certainly."

"I know, it was a foolish notion." Flora sighed. "How long are you going to stay in Bath, Helena?"

"As long as Mrs. Montagu stays here as well," Helena replied. "I do not know when she means to return to Newark House."

"I hope you will still be here when I come back from London," Flora said. "I have really grown fond of your company, you must know. I prefer it to everyone else's. Apart from Mr. Carmichael's, of course." Flora laughed.

"I cannot make any promises, as I said," Helena answered. "Whenever Mrs. Montagu decides that she is sick of Bath and returns to her home, I will have to follow her."

~~~o~~~

The day of the wedding soon arrived, and on getting up Helena was happy to see what a radiant day it was. It was chilly, no doubt, but the cold air made the scenery even fresher than usual. Mr. Davies had agreed to take Helena to the Mackays' lodgings before he would join his friend Carmichael at his house in George Street.

"I need to make sure that he turns up at the wedding," he said with a grin.

"I am quite certain that Mr. Carmichael will be punctual," Helena replied. "After all, he has been waiting for this event for years!"

"Ah, Miss Erpingham, you do not know Carmichael well enough," Mr. Davies said. "You forget his profession. All we need for him to postpone the wedding is a patient asking for his assistance."

"What can be done to prevent this," Helena asked.

"I will try my best, Miss Erpingham. Your duty will be to keep the bride in good humour if he should be late despite my efforts."

Helena laughed. "I will do my best, sir," she said.

On arriving at the Mackays' lodgings, Helena was taken to Flora's room, where Mrs. Mackay's maid was adding some finishing touches to the bride's apparel. Flora looked lovely, and a great deal of her loveliness could be attributed to the happy smile on her face. Her dress was very elegant, yet it was simple -- Flora did not care too much for finery. Her one concession to fashion was her pelisse -- an exquisite garment trimmed with fur -- and a matching bonnet.

"So, how do I look?" Flora asked Helena. "Can I show my face at St Swithin's, what do you think?"

Helena smiled. "Next to you, I will look just like the wallflower that I am," she said.

"Do not say such a thing. You know you are not a wallflower. I can name at least one gentleman who finds you very attractive. -- There now, I am finished."

Mrs. Mackay looked at her daughter fondly, fully approving of her appearance, and led her downstairs, where the gentlemen of the family were already waiting for the ladies. The bride's father had been worried, telling his son that they would most likely be late for the ceremony, while the younger Mr. Mackay had done his best to assure his father that everything would be fine in the end. He greeted Helena with an affable smile, but as she was attending to Flora she did not have the time to take much notice of him.

Mr. Davies was waiting at the entrance of St Swithin's as they arrived at the church. He handed the bride a bouquet of flowers and, after complimenting her on her looks, remarked that Mr. Carmichael was indeed a lucky man.

"So you managed to get him here on time, Mr. Davies," Helena asked teasingly.

"Quite so," Mr. Davies said, grinning. "At the moment, he is rather busy preparing himself for the ceremony. I am afraid his courage is about to fail him. You have arrived just in time, Miss Mackay. Your presence will make him regain his resolve."

Flora gave Mr. Davies a grateful smile, but one could see that she, too, was nervous.

There were not many guests at the ceremony, apart from the bride's family and some of the bridegroom's friends. As soon as the wedding ceremony was over, family and friends were invited to a breakfast at the young couple's house in George Street. An enormous wedding cake was waiting for the bridal couple and wedding guests upon their arrival. Both Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael's anxiety had by now vanished. They were able to receive their friends' felicitations with perfect ease, and it was difficult to determine which one of them looked happier. Helena felt perfectly contented celebrating with her friends, and only became aware of how much time she had passed in their company when she had a look at the clock on the mantelpiece after the young couple had left, and realised that she should have been back in Pulteney Street nearly an hour ago. Mrs. Montagu would be enraged at her tardiness.

She quickly asked a servant for her coat and bonnet, to leave without further delay. Just as she was adjusting her bonnet in front of the mirror in the hallway, young Mr. Mackay came out of the drawing room -- no doubt in search of her.

"You are not going to leave yet, Miss Erpingham," he said, looking surprised.

"I have to," Helena said. "I promised Mrs. Montagu to be back at two o'clock."

Mr. Mackay cast a quick glance at his pocket-watch. "You are indeed a bit late, Miss Erpingham," he said calmly. "But certainly Mrs. Montagu will make allowances considering today's events. You need not worry."

"Even if she should make allowances, which I do not expect in the least, she will be seriously put out by now," Helena said. "Really, sir, I could not be at ease staying here any longer."

Mr. Mackay sighed. "Very well then," he said. "With your permission, Miss Erpingham, I will see you home."

"This is very kind of you, sir, but not at all necessary. I can walk by myself -- it is not so very far, after all."

"It may not be necessary, Miss Erpingham, but I would very much like to," Mr. Mackay said, and asked the maidservant to bring him his coat and hat. "Besides, I might be of assistance when Mrs. Montagu is very angry with you. I am fully prepared to take the blame for your belatedness, Miss Erpingham."

Helena did not offer any more resistance to Mr. Mackay's suggestion, and so they set off towards Pulteney Street together.

"How did you like the wedding, Miss Erpingham," he asked.

"I think Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael will be very happy together," Helena said warmly. "They were made for each other."

A faint smile crossed Mr. Mackay's face. "Funny you should say that," he said. "Do you believe in such a thing? People being made for each other?"

"I do not know -- I guess it was more of a commonplace remark than an expression of any belief of mine," Helena said, smilingly. "People say such things to indicate a perfect match."

Mr. Mackay nodded. "I do think my sister and Carmichael will do very well with each other. -- Miss Erpingham, my sister's wedding has made me make up my mind on a very important subject, and I do not want to leave Bath before this is settled." He sounded earnest, and determined. Helena decided to remain silent -- she had a suspicion concerning what Mr. Mackay was going to say, but could not think of any means to stop him.

"I have been thinking a great deal," he continued. "I know that, under normal circumstances, I would not even be worth your notice, Miss Erpingham. I am far beneath your situation in life as it was -- still, my offer is sincere, Miss Erpingham, and I hope you will not blame me for my impertinence. During my stay in Bath, I have grown very fond of you, and I wanted to ask you to become my wife." He gave Helena an entreating look. "I do not mean to press you for an answer, Miss Erpingham. You have all the time in the world to consider my proposal. I will wait."

"Mr. Mackay," Helena said quietly, "I am honoured, but...I cannot accept your offer. I am very sorry to disappoint you, and I hope I do not give you too much pain, but believe me, sir, we would not suit. I do like and respect you as a friend, Mr. Mackay, but my feelings for you would never go any further than that."

Mr. Mackay sighed. "I cannot say I did not expect such an answer," he said. "I knew it was highly unlikely that you would accept me, yet I did not want to lose you simply because I dared not ask you. I hope you can forgive me, Miss Erpingham. I promise I will not bother you again."

Helena wanted to say something to cheer him up, but she felt that anything she said might simply revive his hope and would therefore be a greater act of cruelty than silence.

Meanwhile, they had arrived in front of Mr. Davies's house in Pulteney Street, and Mr. Mackay took his leave. "I shall be off to Edinburgh tomorrow," he said. "Now that my sister is married and gone, nothing is left to keep me in Bath." He smiled sadly. "Should you ever come to Edinburgh, Miss Erpingham, remember that you have friends there," he said, took her hand and kissed it. "Good bye, Miss Erpingham."

"Good bye, Mr. Mackay," Helena said, swallowing her tears. She felt so sorry for Mr. Mackay she nearly cried. In order to save her face, Helena turned away from him and went into the house without further ado.

She did not really listen to Mrs. Montagu's ensuing sermon, her abuse and her threats to dismiss her. The moment Mrs. Montagu had finished her reprimand, Helena left her alone and went to her room. There, she gave way to her tears and spent some time crying, when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Miss Erpingham, may I come in?" It was Jeremy.

While Helena was still trying to find an excuse to keep the boy out, the door opened and he entered the room.

"What is the matter, Miss Erpingham? Have you been crying?" Jeremy asked. "I heard a strange noise in your room and thought I'd better look in on you. Are you ill?"

Despite her tears, Helena had to smile. The boy sounded so genuinely worried about her.

"No, I am not ill, Jeremy," she said. "Just a bit unhappy -- but it will pass."

Jeremy nodded, as if he understood. "I am unhappy, too, sometimes," he said. "It usually goes away. Shall I get Mephisto? He might cheer you up, you know. I might even show you the trick with the mustard -- oh no, I cannot, I promised my father not to try that one again."

"The trick with the mustard?" Helena asked, by now having dried her tears.

Jeremy told her the story how he had smeared the cat with mustard and how the poor animal had reacted on the assault. When the boy left Helena's room, there were tears in her eyes again -- only this time they were tears of laughter.

~~~o~~~

It took Helena some time to prepare for dinner that evening. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she did not want to provoke any questions from either her host or Mrs. Montagu. Mrs. Montagu would, perhaps, assume that she had cried because of the rebuke she had given her in the afternoon, and would not ask any questions. Mr. Davies, however, being of the same helpful disposition as his son, might ask questions and perhaps even guess at the real cause of her tears, and Helena did not want him to. She hoped Jeremy would keep quiet on the subject.

She should not have worried. Jeremy arrived at the dinner table as always when there were only few guests present, but he did not talk much. Whenever his father asked him something concerning his lessons, Jeremy gave him short, monosyllabic answers. He had had to learn a poem by heart, and when Mr. Davies expressed his wish to hear the poem, Jeremy said it, but rather half-heartedly.

Helena noted that Jeremy did not eat much, either, which worried her. Usually, Jeremy had a healthy appetite, but tonight he not only ate very slowly but also refused to have some dessert -- a certain sign that something was wrong, in Helena's opinion. She gave Mr. Davies a telling look when Jeremy said that he did not want any pudding, but Mr. Davies did not seem to notice.

After dinner, Jeremy accompanied Helena and Mrs. Montagu to the drawing room. Mrs. Montagu was seated comfortably in front of the fireplace, and Helena sat on the sofa with Jeremy.

"Is there anything wrong with you," she asked the boy. "You did not seem to be very hungry tonight."

"Well, I was hungry," Jeremy admitted. "But something is wrong with my stomach, I feel a bit queasy. That is why I did not eat any dessert, even though I would have liked it so much."

"I am certain Cook will keep something aside for you," Helena said encouragingly. "You should go to bed soon. Tomorrow you will feel better."

Jeremy nodded, and went to bed the moment his father joined the ladies in the drawing room.

During the night, Helena was woken by Emily Hunter, the nursemaid, who was banging frantically at her door.

"Please, help me, Miss, I do not know what to do," she said desperately. "Something is wrong with Master Jeremy!"

Quickly, Helena got out of bed and put on her dressing gown. She followed Emily to Jeremy's room and found the boy lying in bed, looking at her with big, feverish eyes without really taking in what was happening. Helena touched his forehead. It was hot.

"How long has this been going on, Emily?" she asked the nursemaid, trying to sound calm.

"He went to bed early tonight," Emily said. "I found nothing wrong with that, but then he woke up, and he was sick -- and then he asked for some water, which I gave him, and he complained about a sore throat ... oh, what am I to do?"

"There is only one thing to do, Emily. We need to get a doctor here, quickly. Run to Mr. Carmichael's..." That moment it dawned on Helena that Mr. Carmichael would not be able to attend to Jeremy. Mr. Carmichael was, by now, on his way to London with his bride.

"Mr. Carmichael is not at home," she said. "Emily, do you know any other physicians in the vicinity? Someone who is acquainted with Mr. Davies and likely to come here, even at this time of night?"

"Well, there is Mr. Jarrett," Emily said. "He is rather old, though."

"Never mind, Mr. Jarrett will do," Helena said quickly. "Get one of the footmen to fetch him, and come back here again. And wake Mr. Davies -- I am afraid this is serious. Oh, I do hope I am mistaken!"

~~~o~~~

A couple of minutes seemed like hours to Philip as he was waiting for Mr. Jarrett to talk to him. Emily Hunter had woken him, and had told him that Jeremy was ill and that the doctor had been sent for. Philip blamed himself for not having seen it coming -- how could he, who had always been alarmed by the slightest sign of illness in his son, have not noticed how poorly Jeremy was? At last, Mr. Jarrett entered the library, looking at him gravely.

"I am afraid I am the bearer of bad news, sir," he said. Philip turned pale. "It is serious, then," he said anxiously.

"It is. Sir, I have reason to believe that your son is suffering from scarlet fever. There have been several cases of scarlet fever lately, and the symptoms were always similar."

Philip nodded. "Scarlet fever. It is dangerous, is it not?"

"There can be complications, Mr. Davies, which can have serious effects. We need to keep a close watch on the patient, and whenever the slightest sign of such a complication occurs ... I need not tell you, sir, that your household will be quarantined. The very last thing Bath needs is an epidemic. Perhaps it would be wise to inquire among your servants who has had scarlet fever and who has not. Those who have not had it should keep away from your son -- scarlet fever is highly contagious. Those who have had scarlet fever are quite safe."

Philip nodded. "I will instruct the housekeeper accordingly," he said. "Can you tell me -- can you tell me how dangerous scarlet fever really is? I want to know the truth."

"The most dangerous part of it is the fever," Mr. Jarrett said. "It can get pretty high. Besides, there are complications, as I said, which can be rather dangerous, too."

"Life-threatening?"

"At times, yes."

Although Philip had half expected this answer, really hearing it came as a shock.

"Thank you for your frankness," he said, desperately trying to look calm.

Mr. Jarrett then rose, and after promising to look in on the patient the next morning he left. Philip decided to go and sit up with Jeremy -- sleep was not to be thought of.

© 2003, 2004 Copyright held by the author.

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