A Lady's Fate

Chapter Thirty

"I must beg you cease your pacing; it cannot be helping your nerves."

"There is nought but confirmation of Mary's good health which will silence my nerves," replied Sir Edmund testily, striding past the armchair where Helena sat as he took yet another fitful turn about the drawing room.

Sir Edmund had been in such a state upon Helena's return to Alverton Hall with George that she could not glean the slightest bit of useful information from him regarding Mary's whereabouts or state of wellbeing. Margaret had been of little more help, far too overwhelmed by the relief of having her son returned. Therefore, Helena had turned to Joseph, who informed her that Mary was being seen to upstairs by a doctor - only after expressing his wish for Helena to alert him if she ever wished to go charging after dangerous child-snatchers in future.

"Not that any of this would have happened if Sir Edmund had not stormed off in a fit of rage," Joseph had added under his breath.

Helena shook her head in exasperation. She could not find it in herself to blame Sir Edmund for Mary's accident; she believed Mr Roach would have taken George whether Sir Edmund had remained at Alverton Hall or not. Besides, poor Sir Edmund was clearly blaming himself for Mary's injury quite enough; there was no need to inflict further pain and misery upon him.

Joseph seemed to disagree. From the moment they had all retired to the drawing room to await further news of Mary, he had been shooting irritated looks at Sir Edmund each time the baronet's heavy footfall passed by Joseph's seat. Deep down, Helena knew Joseph was vexed with himself, feeling he should have been there to protect the women and George - which only served to infuriate Helena, for she could not imagine how either Sir Edmund or Joseph could have made a better attempt at rescuing the child than she and Mary had.

Growing tired of the foolish, male-blooded tension filling the room, Helena rose to her feet.

"I am going to visit my father," she announced, crossing the room with a rustle of skirts. "Would you be so kind as to alert me the very moment there is news?"

With something resembling a nod of assent from Joseph, and a dazed look from Sir Edmund, Helena sighed and took her leave.

Upon reaching the door to her father's chambers, Helena hesitated the briefest of moments, steadying her breathing before knocking firmly three times. This was to be a difficult conversation, but it was one she knew must take place.

"Yes?" came her father's voice, hoarse from sleep.

"It is Helena," she called. "I did not mean to disturb you; I can return at a later hour if you wish."

"No, no - do come in," was her father's immediate reply.

Bundled up beneath the covers in his enormous bed, Lord Alverton seemed almost as if he had shrunk during Helena's time away. Only now, after spending some time apart, could Helena truly appreciate quite how frail he had become. His once healthy body had become thin and limp; a shadow of strong, powerful man he had once been.

This could not have been the work of a few months. No, her father's decline had been occurring over a great many years - likely since Lady Alverton passed away - and although Helena had thought herself to be acknowledging it all this time, she now realised that she had been denying the full truth, unable to bear what had become of the father she so dearly loved.

"Oh, Papa!"

Moving instinctively across the room as if riding a wave of emotion, Helena suddenly found herself in her father's arms, weeping uncontrollably. To be close to him; to be comforted by him; these were the things Helena had unconsciously desired the most since her mother's death.