A Lady's Fate

Chapter Twenty-Six

"He requires time to overcome the sense of betrayal; that is all," said Helena, in what she hoped was a warm, comforting voice.

The effect upon Mary was not that which Helena had desired.

"You were not there!" she cried, voice fraught with misery. "You did not see the expression upon his face – he has no desire to know me, now that he has learnt who I truly am!"

"Sir Edmund is fully acquainted with your true self," Helena told her. "During your time spent here at Alverton Hall, you were Miss Thorpe by name only – the person Sir Edmund developed a friendship with was not Miss Thorpe, but Mary. He found your company enjoyable then; why should it no longer be the case?"

Mary offered Helena one her special, pitying looks – the sort which always made Helena feel rather naïve.

"You would believe that," sighed Mary, not unkindly. "In a perfect world, that would indeed be the case. Yet it is not so simple for Sir Edmund as deciding whether or not he enjoyed my company."

"He will forgive you..."

"It is not a question of forgiveness!" cut in Mary, curls bouncing on her shoulders as she gesticulated in her typical wild fashion. "It is a question of the infinite chasm society places between us! Were Sir Edmund to decide that he did forgive me for deceiving him, there would still be no hope for us – for it would be impossible to marry."

Helena blushed uncomfortably as Mary's words sank in. Reluctant though she was to admit it, Helena had indeed behaved in a similar fashion herself when Mary first arrived at Alverton Hall. Finding Mary to be ill-versed in the etiquette of society, Helena had initially attempted to distance herself from the girl, deciding her an unsuitable companion simply because she did not know the steps to any English country dances, or how to play the pianoforte.

What did it matter, truly? Did the ability to flirt with a fan or make polite conversation truly define one's self worth?

Or were there perhaps other traits of far greater importance – such as bravery, and compassion, and loyalty?

Helena had learnt to see beyond the false elegance of society; and she believed Sir Edmund would be able to as well.

"Please do not give up hope, Mary," urged Helena. "After all, Joseph and I succeeded in forming a union without the approval of society..."

Mary laughed; a harsh bark which caused Helena to start.

"Our circumstances are hardly alike!" she scoffed. "Mr Godwin may not be titled, yet he is the brother of a well-respected gentleman. I, on the other hand, am a servant. By right I should never have spoken to Sir Edmund unless spoken to first, nor have been seen above stairs for that matter! Your optimism is admirable, Lady Helena, yet I feel on this occasion it is severely misplaced."

Helena was about to remind Mary that it was through her influence she had learnt to view things more positively – but she was not to have the opportunity, for moments later the door to Mary's bedchamber was flung open, a terror-stricken Margaret tumbling in.

"Oh, thank heavens!" she gasped, struggling to catch her breath. "I have searched almost each and every bedchamber in this house for you!"

Mary, moments previously in the grip of heartbreak, seemed instantly to forget her own feelings at the sight of Margaret's distress. In two swift movements, she had leapt up off the bed and crossed the room, placing a comforting arm around her mistress' shoulder.

"Whatever has happened?" asked Helena, startled by Margaret's dishevelled appearance. With wild, bulging eyes, she had almost a feral look of rage about her, coupled with utter anguish and anxiety. A number of terrible scenarios flitted through Helena's mind; but none came close to the truth which Margaret duly disclosed.