A Lady's Fate

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A rustling sound came from the overturned phaeton, snapping Helena out of her tortured thoughts as she whipped her head in its direction. To her horror, it seemed Mr Roach had regained consciousness - he was blinking blearily, rubbing his head as he extended his limbs gingerly before him to check for injuries.

Helena fleetingly felt guilty for wishing him too injured to stand - but when Mr Roach did stagger to his feet, this guilt was replaced instantly by fear.

"What a fool!" he spat furiously.

The sharpness in his tone caused Helena to flinch - but it was in fact Mary's crumpled form upon whom his gaze was resting.

"Has she no regard for her own life? She might very well have killed us all!"

Helena, still crouching in the mud at Mary's side, attempted to draw herself up to her full height.

"She has greater regard for George's life than her own," declared Helena, "and was willing to perform any act necessary to prevent you from escaping with him to Yorkshire."

Mr Roach rubbed at his neck, wincing as he touched a painful spot.

"I cannot imagine what she hoped to achieve in making such a bold move," he muttered, "for her reckless behaviour has only succeeded in placing herself in a far worse position than I."

His gaze lingered upon the broken figure lying crumpled on the floor without a trace of sympathy in his eyes. Mary was worthless to this man; it was clear from his expression it meant nought to him if she lived, or...

Helena could not even bring herself to imagine the possibility.

"Well, the senseless girl can at least be satisfied in the knowledge that she may have her wish."

Helena frowned, certain she must have misheard Mr Roach's words.

"You may have the boy," he clarified, as if speaking to someone particularly dense. "I have no wish to raise him as my heir if there are to be further attempts on my life made in the process."

Having witnessed the pain and suffering Margaret had endured to bring George into the world and keep him safe and well, it angered Helena to think that Mr Roach could simply toss him aside like a discarded handkerchief. He was just as much responsible for George's wellbeing as Margaret - but it was plain to see that the child would be far better off without any input from this man in his upbringing.

"George was never truly your heir," said Helena boldly.

Mr Roach gave a knowing chuckle, chilling Helena to the bones.

"He would not have remained illegitimate long," he told Helena. "In returning to Yorkshire with the boy, I knew that Margaret would follow. Once at Lanmeth House, I should have made short work of persuading her into marriage. We could then pretend we had been married the entire time, securing the boy's place as heir to Lanmeth House and its surrounding land."

Helena despised Mr Roach's repeated referrals to George as the boy. To him, George would simply have been a helpless pawn in his perpetual struggle for power; an asset to be shipped off and married to an eligible young lady at the first opportunity. The darling child deserved far more than that - he needed a life of love and care, which Margaret would more than willingly provide.

"He is no longer of any interest to me," said Mr Roach unconcernedly. "The price of being plagued by Margaret's halfwit maid is far too great. It is not as if Margaret is the only woman able to bear me a child."

Helena gasped, unsure whether she was most offended by the insult to Margaret, or the fact that Mr Roach dared to speak of such vulgar matters before a lady. Mr Roach himself, however, did not appear to notice Helena's discomfort, preoccupied with glancing down once more at his son in the wicker basket.