Helena's Bone

Part Seventeen

Helena took particular care of her appearance when she prepared for the dinner party with the Carmichaels. She did not want them to get the impression she had become too fine for their company, and therefore, among her selection of new dresses, she chose the simplest one.

"Are you quite sure, Miss? The emerald-green?" Stevenson asked her.

"Yes, the emerald-green," Helena replied. "It is only an informal dinner party among friends, Stevenson, I need not outshine anyone."

Hesitantly, Stevenson helped Helena to put on her gown, and then Helena settled down at the dressing table to let Stevenson do her hair. Helena managed to seriously displease Stevenson by telling her that a hairstyle to match the simplicity of her dress would do. Being new in Berkeley Square, Stevenson still thought it necessary to show off her skill, probably to justify the enormous wages Captain Erpingham was paying her -- but Helena refused to take part in that scheme. There would be no elaborate curls or plaits tonight, but a plain, simple hairdo, just the thing the Carmichaels were accustomed to seeing.

Stevenson was adding the finishing touches to Helena's hair, when her aunt entered her room to see how she was doing. Aunt Charlotte herself was in her finest clothes, and she clearly disapproved of Helena's taste for simplicity. She only stopped her censure when Helena asked her whether she thought she would make a bad impression on the Carmichaels.

"You forget they used to know me as Mrs. Montagu's companion," she said. "I do not want to show off in front of them, you know."

"Maybe you are right," Aunt Charlotte admitted. "Besides, you look very pretty anyway, and I suppose your friends will be pleased to see you no matter what you wear. Enjoy yourself, my dear!" With these words, she left to keep her own appointment for the evening.

Stevenson was to escort Helena to the Carmichaels' lodgings and to pick her up there later in the evening, but as a porter assisted Helena in getting out of the carriage, he told Stevenson that she need not do so.

"Mrs. Carmichael says she will see to it that Miss Erpingham reaches her home safely," he said, and Helena therefore dismissed Stevenson for the evening. She was taken to a small but comfortable sitting-room, where the Carmichaels were waiting for her.

Flora reached out both her hands as she welcomed her in her home. "Of course, you know this is not my home," she said. "But it is very comfortable nevertheless, quite sufficient for our needs while we are here. It would not do to live here permanently, of course, but we will return to Bath before long anyway. I got our landlady's cook to prepare our dinner for us -- I suppose it is nothing in comparison to what you get in Berkeley Square, but I hope you will like it." There was a nervous ring to Flora's voice, and Helena suspected that Flora really thought she had become too fine for her old friends, and thought the less of them because their lodgings in London did not meet with the Berkeley Square standard.

"Flora," she therefore said, "never mind what I may or may not get in Berkeley Square. One thing is for certain, I have not had your company for a while, which is why I have come here tonight. I have come here to enjoy a pleasant evening with old friends, and you need not fear that I shall censure you or your accommodation in any way."

"Oh, I do hope you will enjoy yourself," Flora said with a smile, still sounding nervous. "If you do not, it will be no fault of ours, I am sure."

Flora then invited Helena to take a seat on the sofa, and they were exchanging the latest gossip, while Mr. Carmichael went to the window and looked out.

"Are you expecting some more guests?" Helena asked as Mr. Carmichael had not moved away from the window for more than five minutes.

"One more guest," Flora said. "He should arrive soon."

"He just has arrived," Mr. Carmichael said and turned away from the window.

"Good," Flora said, "for I would hate to have an excellent dinner spoilt because one of our guests did not come in time."

There were voices in the corridor, and then the door to the sitting-room was opened. Helena thought she was going to faint when she saw who the missing guest was.

"Mr. ... Mr. Davies," she whispered. She had feared she might throw herself into his arms upon seeing him again, but in fact she felt so weak that, had she tried to move towards him, her legs would have given way under her. Helena felt that Philip Davies had never been so handsome as he was at the moment. He was standing there, not at all surprised to meet her, it seemed, and the look he gave her was like an embrace.

"Miss Erpingham," he said with a warm smile, and bowed.

"I ... I had no idea you were in London," Helena managed to say.

"I admit I had the advantage there," Philip answered with a smile, swiftly moving towards her, taking her hand and kissing it. "I had a clue, at least." His eyes seemed to take in every little detail about her, and Helena fervently wished she had let Stevenson have her way. "You are staying with your uncle in Berkeley Square, I hear," he continued.

Such empty words, Helena thought. Then she realised that Philip resorted to polite small-talk to make her more comfortable with his presence - he wanted to give her the chance to recover from the shock of seeing him so unexpectedly.

"Yes, I am staying with my aunt and uncle in Berkeley Square," she said and added, with a faint smile, "They are very good to me."

"I am glad to hear it," Philip said, looking into her eyes. "It is just what you deserve, after all you have been through."

Flora broke the spell by announcing that dinner was served, and remembering his duty to his hostess, Philip took her arm and led her into the adjoining dining room, while Mr. Carmichael led Helena to the table.

"How is Jeremy," Helena asked as they were all seated and a maidservant was placing the first course on the table.

"He is in good health, thank you," Philip said and smiled. "He is very capable of ordering his poor old father about."

Helena laughed. "Did you take him to London with you?"

"No, I did not. It would not be wise, I think, to let him undertake such a journey so soon after his illness."

"Not wise at all," Mr. Carmichael agreed. "He could suffer a serious relapse."

"I thought as much," Philip said. "This is why I left him in Bath, in my sister's care."

"I am certain Mrs. Howard will take good care of him," Helena said. "What about Mrs. Montagu? Is she staying in Pulteney Street all by herself, then?"

"I do not know," Philip said. "I suppose she will leave Bath before long, or she may already have done so. My aunt and I are at odds with each other."

"Oh dear!" Helena exclaimed.

"It is not your fault, Miss Erpingham," Philip said pointedly. "Please do not feel guilty for anything that may have happened between my aunt and me."

"I cannot help but think about the poor woman's loneliness, and feel bad about it," Helena said.

"Do not," Philip said pointedly. "Her loneliness is her own doing. Had she treated you as she ought, you might still be with her. Any pity on your part is wasted on her."

"Yet, I owe her a great deal," Helena said quietly.

"It does you credit to think about my aunt in such a way," Philip said. "But she will not waste a thought on you now that you are gone -- nor did she do so while you were still with her, you can rely on that. Believe me, there is no reason for you to feel guilty."

Helena gave him a sad smile, but did not dwell on the topic any longer. Instead, she began to discuss the play they had seen with Flora, and compared Mr. Kean's Shylock to the performance of some other actor Flora had seen in an Edinburgh production of The Merchant of Venice.

Even while Helena was talking to Flora, she felt Philip's eyes on her. The bond between them was unmistakable. Helena wondered what the Carmichaels might think, seeing them behave as they did -- Philip hardly speaking to anyone but Helena, and not able to take his eyes off her, whereas she, Helena, desperately tried to keep the conversation going and to amuse her hostess, while her thoughts were so far from the topic at hand. The only coherent thought Helena was capable of at the moment was the thought of Philip. Whatever he said and did mattered, whatever any of the Carmichaels remarked had to be repeated at least once to be noticed. Her feelings and thoughts in such turmoil, Helena did not notice the amused glances that Mr. Carmichael and his wife exchanged across the table. They were well aware of what was going on, and had there been an excuse to leave the lovebirds alone, they would most likely have made use of it. As it was, they tactfully tried to keep up the semblance of a dinner party, and did not take it amiss that their guests had their minds somewhere else.

Having finished dinner, Flora took Helena back to the sitting room while the gentlemen remained in the dining room to have their glass of port.

"Now, how did you like your surprise," Flora asked Helena as they were seated on the sofa.

"You planned this, did you not?" Helena asked, unable to feel offended that her friends had played such a trick on her.

"Partly," Flora admitted. "Mr. Davies asked me not to tell you that you would meet him here. Had it not been for that promise, I would have warned you. I hope you are not angry with me."

"Not at all," Helena assured her. "The encounter was unexpected, but not at all distasteful to me."

"I noticed that," Flora laughed. "You are very fond of Mr. Davies, aren't you?"

Helena smiled, but did not say anything.

"You can trust me, you know," Flora said. "Whatever you say to me now will stay between the two of us, I promise."

"I am more than just fond of him," Helena said quietly.

"I am glad," Flora said, with a smile. "It means you will be settled in Bath after all."

"Flora!" Helena protested.

"Oh, let me indulge in my dreams," Flora said laughingly. "You must admit it would be an excellent match."

Sooner than expected, the gentlemen joined them, and they spent the rest of the evening playing whist. Helena did not get much opportunity to talk to Philip then, for he appeared to concentrate on his cards most of the time, and Flora, who was determined to win, forced her to concentrate on hers.

When it was time to leave, Flora asked Philip whether he would be so kind as to escort Helena home.

"I'd feel honoured to do so," Philip replied, looking at Helena and giving her an encouraging smile. He handed her in the carriage, and took his seat next to her.

For a while, none of them spoke. Helena felt Philip's presence next to her, and was content to know that he was with her. She was determined to cherish every moment she was to spend with him. Then Philip took her hand, and although it was dark in the carriage, she knew that he was looking at her.

"I told you you had not seen the last of me yet," he said quietly.

Helena smiled. "I never doubted that," she said. "I knew that if you wanted to, you would find me."

"I have never wanted anything so much," he said. "I missed you."

"Why, sir, I was not gone so long," Helena said lightly, trying to hide her emotion.

"Too long for my taste. You should not have gone at all," Philip said, pressing her hand. Helena turned to face him. It was difficult to read his expression in the dark, so the only way she could judge his sincerity was his tone of voice.

"It was not easy to leave Bath," she said quietly. "I have grown so fond of the place."

"Oh, Bath does grow on one, doesn't it?" Philip said, in the same light tone that Helena had used herself before. "Say, are you very angry with me for not letting you know I was in London?" There was an anxious ring in his voice.

"No, I am not angry. But I was quite taken aback when I saw you at first. I felt quite faint."

"I could see you did," he said. "I was glad you had a doctor near you -- as Mrs. Carmichael suggested when we talked about the matter. You looked pale, and stunned...and yet incredibly beautiful." He looked out of the carriage window. "We are nearly there," he said, with a touch of sadness in his voice. "May I call on you tomorrow?"

"Of course you may. I shall be glad to introduce you to my aunt and uncle," Helena said.

"I shall be glad to meet them," he said. "Though I was wondering whether I could see you alone, Helena."

"Why?" Helena asked, her heart beating wildly. At the same time she felt stupid for questioning the obvious.

"To say all the things that I cannot say tonight," he said. "This is neither the right place nor the right time -- I am not going to say anything as important in a hackney coach at half past eleven in the evening."

The coach stopped in front of her uncle's house, and Philip helped her step down from the coach. He escorted her to the door. "Shall I see you tomorrow?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes, you will," Helena said quietly. For a moment, it seemed as if he were going to kiss her, but then he appeared to change his mind. With a smile, Philip rang the doorbell and turned to leave as Stevenson opened the door to let Helena in. Helena watched him get into the carriage and, as the carriage drove away, realised that from the first moment he had got hold of her hand, Philip had not let go of it until he had left the carriage. A warm feeling took hold of her. She loved Philip, and he loved her. If Philip should ask her to marry him tomorrow, she decided, and after what he had said to her in the carriage there could not be any doubt he would, she would accept him. Whether his family liked it or not, she would marry him.

She followed Stevenson upstairs to her room, got ready for the night and lay down on her bed. Yet, it took hours until she finally fell asleep.

~~~o~~~

Philip, too, found it hard to go to sleep that night. He was certain that Helena loved him -- her reaction on seeing him at the Carmichaels' had told him as much. The look in her eyes, and the happy smile... no one could act as well, Philip thought. He was amazed at himself -- how he had managed to spend an entire evening in her company, and actually be alone with her in a carriage without taking her in his arms and never letting go again was a mystery to him. He had been inclined to do so, at first, when he had taken his seat next to Helena in the carriage but, surprised at his own courage -- one might even say impudence -- he had only taken her hand. She had not withdrawn it. Even though he had kept her hand in his all the time, she had not even tried to draw away from him.

At her front door, he had been reluctant to let her go. It had taken all his resolve to keep him from kissing her -- which might have been disastrous. What her uncle would say upon hearing about such conduct was something Philip did not even want to think about. He depended on Captain Erpingham's goodwill to convince Helena to marry him, should she still have scruples concerning his family. It was, however, unlikely that Captain Erpingham would support the cause of a man who had been caught stealing kisses from his niece, in the street and for everyone to see, even if it had been nearly midnight.

It was dawn when Philip finally drifted off to sleep.

~~~o~~~

"Do sit down, Helena, you are making me nervous," Aunt Charlotte exclaimed as Helena restlessly paced around in the drawing room. "What has got into you, my dear?"

"Aunt," Helena said, with a happy sigh, "Mr. Davies is in London!"

"Is he? That is good news," Aunt Charlotte said. "And you expect him to come for a visit?"

"He promised to do so, yesterday evening when he took me home."

"He took you home? Was he with the Carmichaels then?"

"Yes, he dined with them and escorted me home."

"What about Stevenson? I told her she was to pick you up!"

"Aunt, it was not Stevenson's fault," Helena said defensively. "Mrs. Carmichael said she would see to it that I got home safely, and therefore I sent her home and told her she need not come. She only did what I told her."

"Driving around London at night, with no one but a gentleman to bear you company," Aunt Charlotte said strictly. "What were you thinking, Helena?"

"I had no idea that Mr. Davies would take me home, Aunt. I thought Mrs. Carmichael would send a servant with me. But then she asked Mr. Davies. I have to add, Aunt, that Mr. Davies has behaved with perfect propriety. He ... he is not one to take liberties."

Aunt Charlotte smiled. "I suppose you would not have minded his taking liberties."

"Aunt!" Helena was shocked, while Aunt Charlotte chuckled.

"My dear, I know the symptoms when I see them," she said. "Never mind, from what you have told me I take it that Mr. Davies is a respectable man. I cannot wait to see him for myself."

That chance came a couple of minutes later, when Robson announced "Mr. Davies to see Miss Erpingham."

Helena's glance at the mirror did not escape her aunt's notice, and made her smile.

"No need to be nervous," she said calmly, while Helena sat down on the sofa, trying to look unconcerned and failing miserably.

How could I have forgotten how handsome he is, Helena thought as Philip entered the room and made his bow. She rose, and introduced him to her aunt.

"So we finally meet, Mr. Davies, " Aunt Charlotte said. "I must say I have already heard a great deal about you. My husband has praised you in the highest terms."

"You have already met my uncle?" Helena asked, taken aback. "Where?"

"I had the honour of making Captain Erpingham's acquaintance," Philip said with a smile. "At White's, the day before yesterday. I ought to have told you, of course."

"So everyone except myself knew that you were in London?" Helena asked.

"I did not know it," Aunt Charlotte said placidly. "But I am pleasantly surprised. Have you come to London on business, sir?"

"It is more of a private matter, really," Philip said. "But some business is attached to it. -- Is your husband at home, Mrs. Erpingham? I would like to speak to him, if it is at all possible."

Aunt Charlotte rose. "I will go to the study and see whether he can join us," she said. "No use to send any of the servants there, he will hardly listen to them when he is absorbed in his accounts." With these words, she left the room, and Helena doubted that she would be back soon. Philip seemed to think so, too, for the moment Aunt Charlotte had left the room, he got up from his seat and went over to the sofa, where Helena sat.

"Do not look at me so angrily," he said, sitting down next to Helena and taking her hand. "I did not know whether the Carmichaels would be able to arrange a meeting between us, and the only one I could count on apart from them was your uncle. This is why I have sought him out."

"You could have told me yesterday, when I said I'd introduce you to my aunt and uncle."

He kissed her hand. "I am sorry," he said. "I have deserved your reproach, I admit that. But we do not have much time to ourselves, I think -- do you really want to waste it by scolding me?"

He looked so very much like a repentant Jeremy at that moment that Helena began to laugh. "How can I be angry with you when you look at me this way?" she asked.

"That's better," he said, smiling. "Helena, ever since I met you...I know this sounds awfully commonplace, but so it is ... ever since I met you, I have become conscious that something has been missing in my life, and some time ago I came to realise that you are that missing part. Will you marry me?"

This is my cue, Helena thought. This is where I ought to say "Yes, gladly", and throw myself in his arms. But I cannot. Why can't I?

"Helena?" He looked at her anxiously. "Is anything wrong?"

"No," Helena said. "There is nothing wrong. I hoped ... I wished you would ask me that question, and I had made up my mind already, but ... now I do not know what to say. What about your family, Philip? What if they hate me? What if they think that I only married you for mercenary reasons?"

"Is that the truth? Would you only consider marrying me for mercenary reasons?" he asked, looking at her earnestly.

"No," Helena exclaimed. "I really love you, but ... but what will people think?"

"Helena, if we love each other, never mind what people may think."

"I do not care about the people, but I do care about your family," Helena said. "Your aunt..."

With a sigh, Philip let go of Helena's hands. "My aunt has no say in my personal affairs," he said. "I have told her as much. I have also told her that I will marry you, despite her opposition. You will have to consider her notions of marriage, too -- she hates marriage, and will do anything to prevent it if she can. Her own marriage, as she may have told you, was not very happy. Besides, your marrying me will take you away from her -- that, too, may have been a reason for her to say what she did. As to the rest of my family -- no one will censure you, Helena. No one."

"What about Jeremy?"

"Jeremy loves you!" Philip said. "He already loves you as if you were his mother."

"Your brother and sister?"

"Emma likes you very much, Helena, and if there is one person in the world who knows what it is like to be Aunt Montagu's companion, it is she. John ... John has seen me suffer all these years, and he will be glad to see me happy. There will be no objection from him, I can guarantee that. Helena, do marry me!" He got hold of her hands again. "Please." He smiled. "I am not above begging, as you see."

Helena laughed.

"You are laughing at me," he said, in mock annoyance. "I am laying my heart at your feet and you're laughing at me!" Despite his severe tone, his eyes glittered humorously. "What do you say, Helena?" he said, more softly.

She looked into his eyes, and finally her misgivings were gone. "I will marry you," she said. "Gladly." Helena might have said more, but the moment she had uttered the last word, Philip drew her in his arms and kissed her. His kisses made her forget her surroundings, until the sound of an opening door brought her to her senses. Getting up from the sofa, she saw her uncle standing in the doorway. Helena got ready for a sermon, but there was none.

"To the point, as always, Mr. Davies?" he simply asked with a smile. "My niece seems to have accepted your offer then."

"I am happy to say that she did," Philip said with a sheepish smile.

"Helena, my dear, why don't you go and tell your aunt the news?" Captain Erpingham asked. "I need to have a word or two with your husband-to-be."

Glad to escape an awkward situation, but sorry to leave Philip to bear the brunt of it, Helena left the room.

~~~o~~~

"Do take a seat," Captain Erpingham said to Philip. "It seems we are going to see a great deal of each other, in the weeks to come."

Philip sat down on the sofa again. "Sir, I have to offer my apologies..." he began slowly.

"For what?" Captain Erpingham asked, with a smile. "I was young once, too, and not likely to miss such an opportunity as this, either. It is I who has to apologise. I should not have burst in like that."

Philip laughed, relieved that Captain Erpingham did not seem to hold his conduct against him.

"Have you had time to discuss such things as the marriage date yet?" Captain Erpingham inquired.

"No, we did not," Philip said, "but I would like the wedding to take place soon -- or do you think we should wait?"

"I see no reason why you should wait longer than necessary," Captain Erpingham said. "Once the marriage settlements are drawn up, you can lead Helena to the altar immediately. I hope you will forgive my mentioning the -- less romantic -- part of the business."

"Certainly," Philip said.

"I have come to love the girl like a daughter of my own," Captain Erpingham said. "Her father did not leave her anything, I am afraid, which, I think, has led to opposition from your family."

"My aunt. No one else opposes the marriage," Philip said.

"I do not think your aunt will oppose the marriage, either, once she finds out that I mean to give my niece ten thousand pounds on her marriage," Captain Erpingham said dryly.

Philip looked at Captain Erpingham, dumbstruck. "Ten ... thousand?" he finally managed to say.

"Do you fancy this is not enough?" Captain Erpingham asked.

"Not enough? Sir, I did not expect..."

"You did not expect my niece to have a single penny, you mean," Captain Erpingham said. "Well, had it been for her father, this would indeed be so. But since I have no children of my own, I can spend my money on my brother's children -- at least those he has left destitute. It does not look as if Lady Woodward will need my assistance. Helena will not be penniless -- I think this will be a powerful argument in her favour."

The door opened, and Mrs. Erpingham and Helena came back into the drawing room.

"Mr. Davies, let me offer my felicitations," Mrs. Erpingham said. "Helena has told me everything! How happy I am for her! -- My dear, we will start buying your wedding clothes tomorrow."

"Aunt!" Helena protested. "You have already bought me so much..."

"...that it will not matter if I buy you some more," Mrs. Erpingham finished the sentence. "My dear, consider me. I have no daughter of my own, and this is the only chance I have to buy a trousseau for a young bride. Do not deny me this!"

Helena gave Philip a helpless look. "My aunt and uncle are generous to a fault," she said quietly.

"Never mind, girl," Captain Erpingham said and put his arm around Helena's shoulders. "I told you what we give is given gladly. -- Now, Mr. Davies, I will await your man of business by tomorrow. Will you do us the honour of dining with us tonight?"

After accepting the invitation, Philip took his leave. Helena escorted him to the door, where he kissed her hand once more.

"I will see you at dinner time," he said, smiling at her.

"Did my uncle ... was he very angry?" Helena asked anxiously.

"No, he was not," Philip said and laughed. "No need to be afraid, Helena. Everything will be fine."

Then he left, to go and see his solicitor, and to write letters to his family and friends. Jeremy needed to know that his father's quest had been successful, and that he was to expect a new mother soon.

Part Eighteen

During the following hours Helena felt as if she were in a dream. Had not her aunt and uncle talked about her engagement as well, Helena would have believed that she had imagined the scene that had passed between her and Philip.

While her aunt was happily making a list of everything they had to buy for the wedding -- clothes, linen, china, silver, jewellery and whatever a young bride could possibly wish for -- Helena sat down at the writing table to inform her brothers and sister of the upcoming event. The letter to the boys was easy -- Helena was sure they would be happy for her, and she did not doubt that they would love Philip, once they had had the chance to meet him.

It was the missive to Grace that gave her trouble. She was not certain whether Grace and Sir James would welcome Philip quite as readily, and that thought pained her. If she told them under what circumstances she had first met Philip, no doubt Sir James would disapprove. Philip was perfectly eligible -- that was not the problem. But Sir James would certainly not relish the thought that his sister-in-law married a man under whose roof she had lived for several weeks before they had been engaged, let alone married, and the fact that nothing improper had ever taken place between them would not weigh with him.

So she only mentioned that her fiancé, Mr Davies, was a widower with a son, residing in Bath, and that she had met him during her stay there. Luckily she had never mentioned his name to Grace before -- whenever she had mentioned him in the few letters she had written to her, she had referred to him as "Mrs. Montagu's nephew".

When Philip returned to Berkeley Square to dine with them, he told her how he had spent the day -- writing letters, like her, but also thinking about their future as husband and wife.

One suggestion shocked Helena, as the thought had never occurred to her. He wanted to give up the house in Pulteney Street.

"But why?" Helena asked. "I think the house is very comfortable -- you need not give it up for my sake, Philip."

"The house is comfortable, I admit," Philip said earnestly. "But, to tell you the truth, I am not very fond of it. There are memories connected with it which I'd rather leave behind me, especially now."

"You are talking about ... Jeremy's mother, I suppose," Helena said. Philip nodded.

"It used to be her home," he said. "She chose the house, and I was only too happy to buy it for her. The house as you have seen it was entirely her doing -- the hangings, the pictures, the furnishings -- everything. Of course we could throw all these things out and start a new household, but it would still be her house -- the house where she died, too. I do not want you to live there, Helena. Call me superstitious, but this is how I feel."

"It is your choice, of course," Helena said. "Where would you like to live, then? I have to say I am quite fond of Bath."

"So am I," Philip said. "Especially since many of my friends live there. I have told my solicitor to make enquiries, and to tell me if anything suitable turns up either in Bath or the surrounding country."

"I would prefer Bath, so I can visit Mrs. Carmichael whenever I feel like it," Helena said.

Philip laughed. "I will see what I can do," he said.

After dinner, they were sitting in the drawing room, playing a rubber of whist. Helena's happiness was complete -- it did her good to see how well Philip and her family got along with each other. Uncle Erpingham obviously thought highly of Philip, and Aunt Charlotte seemed to be fond of him, too.

Just before Philip left, they had a moment alone with each other. He took Helena into his arms.

"I mean to give you something," he said, smiling, drawing her closer and kissing her.

"A kiss?" Helena asked, breathlessly.

"That too," he said laughingly. "And there is more where that came from. But there is something else. Give me your hand."

Before Helena could ask any more questions, he had seized her hand and had put a ring on her finger. "Not a family heirloom, I am afraid," he said, grinning, "but I hope it will do for an engagement ring."

"It is beautiful," Helena sighed, looking at the ring, leaning on Philip's shoulder. "And it fits perfectly! Thank you so much! Did you buy it today?"

"Among all the things I had to do today," he said, "I still remembered to buy you this ring." He laughed. "I have sent an announcement to the Gazette, you know. All your acquaintance will drop in tomorrow to congratulate you, or at least to satisfy their curiosity. You will need an engagement ring to show off."

"How glad I am that you remembered it," Helena said, with a mischievous smile. "I confess I did not think of it -- although I wished I might have a fiancé to show off."

"That cannot be done, I am afraid," he said, suddenly looking earnest. "I will be closeted with your uncle all day, I suppose. But I will contrive to see you somehow, do not worry."

Another kiss, and he left. Helena retired to her room, but however hard she tried, she could not sleep for a very long time. Today's events were repeated over and over in her mind, and when she finally drifted off to sleep, it was with visions of her future happiness.

~~~o~~~

The following days were so filled with activity that Helena hardly had time to breathe. Her aunt took her on shopping expeditions every morning, and although Helena was asked to give her opinion on the various items her aunt intended to buy for her, she felt that Aunt Charlotte did not set much store by it.

When they were not in town, honouring the most modish establishments with their presence, they were at home, receiving visitors and satisfying their curiosity regarding the circumstances of Helena's engagement. The notice in the Gazette had sent many of her father's former friends to Berkeley Square, friends who had not, Helena remembered bitterly, cared sixpence for her ever since her father had died.

Philip was with her whenever he could, but was very busy -- the marriage settlement had to be drawn up, and the purchase of a new house was of foremost importance to him.

Had Helena still had any doubts regarding Philip's family, they would have been allayed by the arrival of several letters. Mrs. Howard was one of the first to congratulate her and welcome her into the family, and Jeremy had added a couple of very proper lines to her letter.

"In his best Sunday handwriting too," Philip had said when Helena had shown him Jeremy's missive. "He must be excessively fond of you. I told you so."

"I suspect the words are not his own, though," Helena had said, with a smile.

"Definitely not," Philip said. "No doubt you will get another letter from him, in which he will express his pleasure in no uncertain terms."

This was what happened -- the next day another letter from Bath arrived, and this time Jeremy used no restraint in his writing. He told Helena that one of his dearest wishes had come true, and that he could not wait for her arrival in Bath. He added that Helena would make his father just as happy as he deserved to be, and that he, Jeremy, would do everything in his power to make her happy as well. His new mother should never have reason to regret her decision to marry his father. Jeremy was disappointed that he could not witness his father's wedding, but trusted that his father would know how to go about it even without his assistance. Helena was moved by such eloquence -- knowing that Jeremy was not fond of writing, she justly appreciated his effort, and her heart went out to him.

Philip's brother, too, wrote a letter of congratulations, welcomed her in his family, and invited Helena and Philip to spend some days in his house in Wiltshire before going back to Bath.

I had planned to travel to London to attend my brother's wedding, especially since I am eager to meet the lady who has finally made him give up his solitary ways. Unfortunately, the boys have contracted influenza, and leaving my wife by herself in such a situation is not to be thought of. Be assured, madam, that my thoughts will be with you on your wedding day, and that we shall be happy to receive your visit on your journey to Bath. Mrs. Davies begs me to include her best wishes in my letter -- she, too, wishes you happy with all her heart.

"Do you think we should go there?" Helena asked Philip. "Certainly your sister-in-law will have enough to do with nursing her children. I do not believe your brother gave the matter enough thought."

"I will write to him and ask him," Philip said. "I would very much like you to meet John and his family. But you are right -- if the children are ill, my sister-in-law will certainly excuse us for not coming to visit them just yet. In spring, perhaps, we might take Jeremy down to Wiltshire to see his cousins. What do you say to that?"

Helena felt that this plan made much more sense than Mr John Davies', and asked Philip to suggest it to his brother without delay.

No word arrived from Mrs. Montagu. This did not surprise Helena at all, probably she had ceased to exist in Mrs. Montagu's eyes the moment Philip had officially announced their engagement. Cecy Harrington told Helena in one of her letters that Mrs. Montagu had returned to Newark House, and that she was looking for a new companion. Whoever that person would be, she could be sure of Helena's sympathy.

Being absorbed with her wedding preparations, Helena had hardly any time to wonder why she had not heard from Grace yet. Even the boys had acknowledged her engagement -- they had sent her short letters, expressing their desire to meet Philip as soon as possible, and wishing her happy, but no word had come from Grace. Even though Helena had learned not to expect too much from her sister, her indifference still had the power to hurt her.

One morning, however, Helena was just preparing to go for a walk in the park with Philip when Robson announced Sir James and Lady Woodward. They entered the drawing room, looking grave.

For the first couple of minutes, none of them mentioned Helena's impending marriage. They exchanged pleasantries with Aunt Charlotte, and Sir James did his best to make himself agreeable to Uncle Erpingham, but they did not pay Helena much notice.

Aunt Charlotte, amazed at such coldness, finally said, "But I am sure you must have come to see Helena. I trust you have heard the happy news -- Helena did send you a letter, after all."

"I did receive Helena's letter," Grace said and turned to Helena. "I expect felicitations are in order. I certainly wish you happy, my dear, but I beg you to reconsider your decision."

Puzzled, Helena replied, "I do not see why any reconsideration might be necessary, Grace." A horrible suspicion dawned on her. Had Mrs. Montagu written to Grace or Sir James, to protest against her engagement? Had she made it plain to them that Philip's family would never countenance the match?

"I understand that you wish for security," Grace continued, "and no doubt Mr Davies can offer you a comfortable home. However, do not sacrifice the best years of your life to a man so much older than yourself. No matter how excellent his health may be at the moment, it is only a question of time until old age will take its toll."

Helena caught her aunt's eye, and had to suppress a fit of laughter. Grace had obviously misunderstood something.

"Indeed," she simply said, trying not to look at her aunt or uncle any more. "But then, in every marriage one ought to consider that old age will, at one point, take its toll. Believe me, I am quite prepared to stay with Mr Davies, for better or for worse."

Sir James stepped in to assist his wife. "Helena, we simply do not want you to waste yourself on someone who is merely looking for a companion -- or a nurse."

"Oh, I do hope I mean more to Mr Davies than that," Helena said lightly. At this moment, Robson announced Mr Davies. As Philip entered the room, Helena's eyes remained fixed on Grace and Sir James. She wanted to see how they reacted on realising their error. They did not realise it at once -- actually, while Philip greeted Helena's uncle and aunt, Sir James whispered to his wife, "The widower's son, I presume."

Philip had obviously heard the remark, for he turned to Sir James, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Sir, you are wrong, I am afraid," he said pleasantly. "I am the widower himself."

Watching her sister blush furiously, Helena came to the rescue, and introduced Philip to her sister and brother-in-law.

For the remainder of their stay, the Woodwards were remarkably silent, and they left soon afterwards, while Philip and Helena went out in the direction of St James' Park. Only when Grace and Sir James were safely out of sight, Helena burst out laughing.

Philip watched her, with an amused smile. "I do wonder," he said, "what you told them to make them believe I was an old man?"

"I have no idea," Helena said, still laughing. "Indeed, I have not! I have told Grace that I was going to marry a gentleman from Bath -- a widower with a son."

Philip laughed. "And what picture, I ask you, would you have, being presented with such a description and not knowing me?"

"I do not know," Helena said.

"I do," Philip said with another laugh. "I am acquainted enough with Bath to know that most widowed gentlemen residing there are past the age of fifty. Could you not have told your sister that I was only thirty-five?"

"I could, but I must have forgotten," Helena said.

"Wicked creature," Philip said. "You forgot it on purpose, do not deny it."

"There is no point in denying it, since you seem to have found me out," Helena said laughingly. "Do you still want to marry me?"

"Even more so," he said, grinning. "I love your sense of humour."

"Fine," Helena said. "And you are not merely looking for a companion to make the sufferings of old age endurable?" She could not help but giggle at the thought.

"Not exactly, no," Philip said. "Although I find the thought of growing old with you quite appealing."

~~~o~~~

Philip's man of business was working very efficiently, and soon he was able to accomplish the purchase of a house in Laura Place, Bath. This was generally felt to be an improvement -- the house was larger than the one in Pulteney Street, which Philip meant to sell as soon as the new house was ready to receive them. In the meantime, they were to stay in Pulteney Street, even though the thought made Philip uncomfortable.

The marriage settlements being agreed on, the wedding clothes being safely stored in Berkeley Square, and a special licence being obtained, there were no more obstacles in their way to finally getting married. Therefore, one morning in early March, Helena found herself getting out of her uncle's carriage in front of St George's, Hanover Square. Aunt Charlotte assisted her in arranging her dress, while Uncle Erpingham stood by, smiling benevolently at his niece.

"How can I ever thank you for what you have done for me?" Helena asked them, swallowing her tears. "You have been so kind -- much too kind to me!"

"There now, my dear," Aunt Charlotte said, noticing the tearfulness in Helena's voice. "Imagine what Mr Davies will think, if you enter the church on your wedding day with tears in your eyes."

Helena embraced her aunt. "I will never forget you, whatever may happen," she said.

"I hope you won't," Aunt Charlotte said with a smile. "I shall be looking forward to your letters, my dear, and if ever you need advice, be sure to ask me. Now smile, Helena. This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life!"

"It is," Helena said with a radiant smile, and, taking her uncle's arm, prepared to enter the church.

The wedding ceremony was nearly over before Helena had become conscious of what was going on. Whenever she tried to remember her wedding afterwards, she could only recall Philip putting the ring on her finger and saying his vows. She remembered being extremely nervous, as if something could still happen to separate them. She also remembered worrying whether she would make any mistakes, and her relief when the ceremony was over and she had not made a fool of herself.

There were not many guests at their wedding. The Howards had stayed in Bath because Jeremy's health did not permit them to travel all the way to London -- and leaving him behind was out of the question. Mrs. Montagu did not wish to attend, certainly. John Davies and his wife, who had wanted to come, had been prevented by their children's illness.

Still, there were enough friends and relations to share their happiness. Uncle Erpingham had fetched Paul and Frederick from Eton, so they could meet their new brother and be present at their sister's wedding. Philip had become popular with them in an instant when he had taken them to see a show at Astley's Amphitheatre, and had promised them that they might spend their summer holidays in Bath.

The Carmichaels played an important part in their wedding -- Mr Carmichael as Philip's best man, and Flora as Helena's matron of honour.

Even Sir James and Grace attended the wedding, if only to avoid gossip. They were reconciled to Helena's choice, once they had found out that Philip was, firstly, not quite as old as they had suspected and, secondly, rich enough to make up for his lack of title. Grace had not been very happy when she had heard of Helena's dowry. She considered herself cheated -- after all, she might have had use for those ten thousand pounds as well -- but she bore with the news with an air of dignity.

After the wedding breakfast, Philip and Helena set out towards Bath. They had not planned a wedding tour to take place immediately after the wedding, but Philip had promised to take Helena to Brighton in spring, when Jeremy would stay with his uncle and aunt in Wiltshire, and Helena had been well pleased with the scheme.

Helena leant back in her seat, and closed her eyes for a moment. Her thoughts were in turmoil, and she wanted some time for quiet reflection. She remembered an old saying - No dog will take away the bone that is yours - and it made her smile. In her case, this had been true. So many things had happened to throw her and Philip into each other's way, that she could not help believing that they had been meant for each other. Her taking up residence with Mrs. Montagu, Mrs. Montagu's illness that had resulted in their sojourn in Bath, and Jeremy's illness that had made them grow even closer to each other...

"A penny for your thoughts," Philip said, and as Helena opened her eyes she saw his gaze fixed on her.

"I do not think they'd be worth that penny," Helena said.

"But you were smiling," Philip pointed out.

"Of course I was," Helena said. "Am I not supposed to show my happiness?"

"Any time you want," Philip said with a laugh, and kissed her. "Tired?"

"A little," Helena admitted. He pulled her towards him.

"Lean on me and try to get some sleep, then," he said. "We have a long way before us."

"I know," Helena said, laughingly. "Fifty years of marriage at least!" Leaning on Philip's shoulder, she closed her eyes again, and soon she was asleep, with Philip silently watching over her.

The End

© 2003, 2004 Copyright held by the author.

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