An Innocent Debutante in Hanover Square

‘That is indeed fortunate. I am not sure that I shall ever truly fall in love, but I must marry if a respectable gentleman should offer for me. It is my duty to Mama.’

‘Well, perhaps,’ Emily said and something odd flickered in her eyes. ‘I think you are very pretty, Helene. I am sure you will have a great many offers. You will not be forced to take the first man who asks for you.’

Helene looked at her curiously. She would have liked to ask Emily what she thought of marriage, but she did not yet know her well enough. Besides, she suspected that Emily had no money of her own. Helene knew that without the dowry Miss Royston had given her, she would have been unlikely to find a husband. Perhaps that was why Emily looked so sad. Helene hoped that one day Emily might like her enough to confide in her, but for the moment she would not ask.

The next morning was entirely taken up with the visit from the seamstress and her young assistant. At first Helene felt a little nervous about giving her opinions, for she was very conscious of the fact that this must be costing a great deal. However, when she discovered that Emily was also being fitted for a new wardrobe, she lost most of her inhibitions. She found it easy to confer with Emily, to discuss styles, colours and quality, and also quantity—though she found it a little shocking when she discovered just how many new gowns were considered necessary.

‘Shall I really need so many?’ she asked, for she could not help thinking that some of the money could be put to better use. ‘I already have four evening dresses I brought with me.’

‘They are very pretty and quite suitable for when we dine at home,’ Emily told her and smiled as she saw Helene’s doubtful look. ‘I felt as you do when I first came to live with Amelia—but she has so many friends. We are invited everywhere, you know. You cannot be for ever wearing the same gown, Helene. You would not wish to appear dowdy? No, of course not. Now do look at this green silk. It would be perfect for your colouring—do you not think so, Madame Dubois?’

‘Oui, of a certainty,’ the Frenchwoman exclaimed. ‘It will look well for an afternoon gown, but the young lady should wear white for evenings. White and simple will be perfect for one so young and beautiful.’

Helene held the shimmering white material to herself, glancing in the mirror. She felt that white was a little insipid for her, but hardly liked to protest. However, Emily shook her head.

‘I cannot agree, madame,’ she said. ‘I believe Helene would look better in colours—that pale blue and the yellow…and perhaps that very pale pink with a deeper cerise trim.’

The seamstress pulled a face. ‘Very pretty, but the petite is so young…’

‘I think I agree with Emily,’ Amelia said as Emily draped the yellow and blue materials against Helene. ‘White is necessary if you are presented, Helene, my dear, but I am not sure that your mama wishes for a court presentation.’

‘I think that might be better left for the future,’ Mrs Henderson said and looked thoughtful. ‘I was never presented at court even after my marriage. I doubt that Helene will be, either.’

‘Oh, no, Mama, I am sure it is not necessary,’ Helene assured her. Since she had no intention of marrying into the aristocracy, it would be a waste of money to invest in such elaborate gowns.

‘Well, we shall see what happens,’ Amelia said. ‘We can always order a court gown if it seems likely that someone will offer to present you, Helene.’

‘I am sure they will not,’ Helene said. ‘I am quite content with the gowns I already have, thank you.’

‘How many have you ordered?’ Amelia inquired of the seamstress and shook her head as she was told. ‘That is not enough. I think you should have an evening gown made of this straw satin as well—and I think a ballgown in this beautiful peach silk, Helene. Hold it against you and look in the mirror. It is perfect for you, my dear.’

Not content with that, Amelia ordered two further morning gowns, two afternoon gowns and a riding habit in dark blue velvet. Helene felt overwhelmed—she had never owned so many gowns. She was relieved to see that Emily was also pressed to order more gowns.

‘Well, I think that will do for now,’ Amelia said. ‘When can you deliver the first gowns, Madame Dubois? The very first should be the peach gown for Miss Henderson, please. Emily and I may wait a few days.’

The seamstress promised to have several gowns delivered by the end of the week, and the peach gown in two days.

‘That is perfect,’ Amelia said after she had gone. ‘We have been invited to a prestigious dance that evening. Helene will need her new gown. We shall have to shop for some spangles tomorrow. A pretty stole and some dancing shoes to complement your gown, my dear. You might like to take Helene shopping, Emily? You know all the best shops and can show her what is usually worn at these affairs.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Emily said. ‘Would you care to accompany us, Mrs Henderson?’

‘As it happens, I have agreed to accompany Amelia somewhere,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘You two go and enjoy yourselves.’

‘I had planned to visit the lending library this afternoon,’ Emily said and looked at Helene. ‘Would you like to come?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Helene agreed. ‘Unless Amelia needs me for anything?’

‘No, I do not think so,’ Amelia said. ‘I am at home this afternoon. You must not stay out too long, for I am sure we shall have several callers and they will want to meet Helene.’

‘It will take no more than an hour,’ Emily assured her. ‘A walk to the library and back will be quite uneventful. We shall be back in plenty of time for tea.’

‘Then do go, my love,’ Amelia said. ‘It will be pleasant for Helene to see something of the town, and you may meet with some friends.’

‘You may bring a book for me, Helene,’ her mama told her. ‘It is so nice to have the opportunity of borrowing new books. Edgar had very little of interest in his library at home.’

‘Emily—look!’ Helene grabbed hold of her arm as they were returning from the library. ‘Do you see that man over there? He is beating that poor donkey with a stick. Oh, how wicked! It is obvious the creature is exhausted and can go no further…’

Helene had been holding Emily’s arm, but she broke away from her and ran across the road to where a man dressed in filthy rags was trying to force a donkey to continue pulling the heavy wagon. The wagon was piled high with all kinds of rags, discarded furniture and metal pots. The donkey was scarcely more than skin and bone and exhausted. Its owner had lifted his arm to beat the unfortunate beast once more when a whirling fury grabbed hold of him, holding on to his arm and preventing him from carrying out his intention.

‘You wicked, wicked man!’ Helene cried. ‘Can’t you see the poor creature is exhausted? If you force it to go on, you will kill it…’

The man tried to throw her off, but Helene held on, struggling to catch hold of the stick and wrench it from his grasp. She was determined not to let go even though he was much stronger than she and obviously possessed of a nasty temper.

‘Damn you, wench,’ the man snarled. ‘Leave me be or it will be the worse for you!’ He managed to pull his arm free of her grasp and raised it again, intending, it seemed, to beat her instead of the donkey.

‘No, you don’t, sirrah!’ a man’s deep voice cried and the bully’s arm was caught, this time in a grip of steel. The vagabond growled and tried to free himself, but ended with his arm up against his back, his chest pressed against the side of the wagon. ‘If you do not want your arm broken, stop struggling.’

‘Let me be,’ the vagabond whined. ‘She attacked me, sir. I were only defending meself.’

‘Be quiet, rogue, or I’ll break your neck,’ the man commanded. His eyes moved to Helene. ‘Would you like to tell me what happened here, miss?’

‘He was beating that poor creature,’ Helene said. ‘You can see for yourself that it is half-starved—and that load is far too heavy. The poor beast is too exhausted to pull the cart another inch.’

‘Did you attack him?’ The man arched his brows.

‘I tried to stop him beating the donkey.’ Helene lifted her head proudly, refusing to be ashamed of her action.

‘I see…’ Max released the vagabond, turned him round and glared down at him. The vagabond opened his mouth, then shut it again. The newcomer was a gentleman and a rather large one, his expression threatening. ‘What have you to say for yourself, rogue?’

‘The stupid beast is useless. It is lazy and a worthless bag of bones. I have to beat it or it will not move.’

‘It might work better if you fed it occasionally,’ Lord Maximus Coleridge said wryly. ‘Here, take this in exchange for the animal and be off with you before I call the watch!’ He thrust a handful of gold coins at his victim. The vagabond stared at the money in astonishment, bit one of the coins to make sure it really was gold and then took off as fast as he could before the mad gentleman could change his mind.

‘That was too much. One of those coins must have been sufficient,’ Helene protested as the large gentleman began to undo the donkey’s harness, freeing it from its burden. She patted the donkey’s nose. ‘The poor thing. It must have had a terrible life.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Max said and frowned. He arched his eyebrows in enquiry. ‘What do you propose we should do with it now?’

‘Oh…’ Helene stared at him. ‘I am not sure, sir. The poor creature needs a good home and something to eat. It looks quite starved.’

‘I wonder if it would not be kinder to put a ball through its head and end its misery.’

‘No! You must not,’ Helene cried and then blushed as his dark grey eyes centred on her face. She thought him an extremely attractive man, large and powerful, and, it seemed, exactly the kind of man one could rely on in an emergency. ‘I mean…could you not have it taken to a stable? At least give this unfortunate beast a chance to recover…please?’

‘Helene…’ Emily had waited for her chance to cross the road. ‘Are you all right, my dear? I would have come sooner, but there was a press of carriages.’

‘Because we are blocking the road,’ Max said wryly. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Barton. I did not know that you were in town. I trust you are well—and Miss Royston?’

‘Lord Coleridge,’ Emily said and dipped in a slight curtsy. ‘We are both well. May I introduce Miss Henderson? Helene—Lord Coleridge. Helene and her mama are staying with us this Season, sir.’