“Mrs. Hollingsworth, there is no need to guard me from her. She is Arabella! Oh, Arabella, I am so pleased to meet you at last. I am so glad Harry finally let you come visit. I have begged him and begged him.”
Arabella was utterly bewildered. Helen’s words left her feeling more perplexed than before. The young girl seemed to know her well, speaking with an innocent affection that only deepened her confusion. She forced herself to focus, trying to piece together the puzzle before her.
“Yes, every time he comes to see me, he tells me about you—about all the things you’ve done and the plans you’re making. He even describes the gowns you wear and how you style your hair,” Helen continued, her voice filled with enthusiasm. She chuckled softly. “Of course, I ask him these things too. I love clothing, makeup, ribbons, and everything feminine, and I’ve always wished I could meet you so that we could discuss these things together. I’m so happy that you married him, and I’m overjoyed to finally meet you.”
Arabella stared at the girl, her heart pounding with a mix of confusion and apprehension. Who was Helen to Harry? And what was Harry to Helen?
Although she had now discovered the identity of the mysterious Helen, things now seemed more complicated than ever.
CHAPTER 30
Helen’s radiant smile and innocent joy made it impossible for Arabella to show her inner turmoil. She didn’t want to upset the girl, especially now that she could see how young and delicate she was—no more than thirteen or fourteen, fragile as a porcelain doll.
“I am very glad to meet you too, Helen,” Arabella managed to say, though her thoughts were racing.
What was the right thing to say? How should she address this unexpected situation?
Helen’s face lit up at her response. “Arabella, will you come to see me more often now? At least while I am still in town? Harry says I am to move soon, but he hasn’t told me where.”
Arabella’s heart raced.Move?What did this mean? She recalled overhearing Harry discussing plans to place someone—a child, perhaps—in a home. Was Helen that child? But why? Helen’spale complexion and frail frame suggested a long-term illness. Was Harry arranging for her to be sent to a sanatorium or some similar place?
Arabella glanced at Mrs. Hollingsworth, who was watching her intently. She needed to learn more, to unravel the mystery before her.
“Arabella, would you like to sit with me? We can feed the animals together. And you too, Lady Emma,” Helen suggested in a sweet voice.
Emma smiled. “I would love to.”
Arabella hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, me too. But first, if you don’t mind, I’d like a word with Mrs. Hollingsworth.”
Helen beamed, completely oblivious to the tension. “Not at all! I adore your gown, by the way. It’s such a lovely color. Is it puce? The repository said one should never wear puce this season, that it was quite out of fashion, but I think it looks beautiful on you. I wish I had a gown in such a color—perhaps in Pomona green or lavender.” She suddenly turned to Emma, who sat beside her. “What’s your favorite color, Lady Emma?”
It was clear that the girl craved attention and companionship. Arabella wondered if she spent her days alone in that house, with only Mrs. Hollingsworth for company.
Determined to learn more, she turned to the older woman. “Mrs. Hollingsworth, would you walk with me?”
Mrs. Hollingsworth nodded, though Arabella noticed a weariness in her eyes. “I must stay close to Helen,” she said.
“Of course,” Arabella replied gently. “I just have a few questions, and I’d rather not discuss them in front of Helen.”
Mrs. Hollingsworth nodded again and walked with Arabella to the water’s edge, away from the others. The ducks quacked softly as they passed, adding a peaceful backdrop to the tension that Arabella felt.
“You do not know who she is, do you?” Mrs. Hollingsworth asked quietly as soon as they were out of earshot.
“I do not,” Arabella admitted. “Until now, I thought my husband had a mistress he was hiding from me.”
“Goodness, no,” Mrs. Hollingsworth said, her voice soft but firm. “His Grace would never do such a thing. Helen was right—he speaks of you often and with great affection. He is very clear about his fondness for you. Besides, he is not the sort of man to keep a mistress. His uncle, perhaps. But Harry is too much like his father—a true gentleman.”
Arabella’s eyes widened. “You knew the late Duke?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Hollingsworth said with a nod. “I was Her Grace’s lady’s maid for many years, until her death. After that, I worked for Lady Templeton.”
Arabella’s heart skipped a beat. “Lady Templeton? As in Richard Templeton?”
“Yes, Sir Richard’s wife,” Mrs. Hollingsworth confirmed. “Oh, she was a lovely woman. She looked just like Miss Helen. Birds of a feather, one might say.”
Arabella’s mouth dropped open as realization dawned on her. “Helen is Sir Richard’s daughter.”
Mrs. Hollingsworth nodded, her expression solemn. “You truly knew nothing, did you? I suppose it’s not my place to say more.”
