So finally, finally, Myka and Helena spend some time together. Yay! Back to 1890 for the next few chapters. This follows after chapter seven where Helena has just been introduced to Myka and is already smitten. It's the beginning of a roller-coaster ride of emotions for HG.
Thank you to those who shared your thoughts with me. Reviews are always appreciated.
Chapter Nine
Gradually, as grandmother and granddaughter hammered out the finer points of their plan for Myka's début, the curly-haired American brought her jumping heart under control and began to relax.
She recalled the way Helena had tempted her into bed the first time; one fine day in Univille when Leena's had been curiously empty save the two of them. A day she had intended to spend reading was spent with her arms wrapped around a lithe figure, holding onto anything that would stop her floating away. Only after Yellowstone had she looked back on that day and felt like an idiot for being so easy to manipulate. While she no longer regretted her weakness, she was older and wiser. She recognised HG's games; the subtle flirting, the touching, the eye contact. All of it made her insides quiver the way it had back at Leena's, but this time, she was the one with the means to be in control.
Eleanor was called away just as the conversation began to reach a resolution and she left her guests to entertain themselves; parting with an apologetic glance at the time traveller and a warning glare at the younger Wells.
Helena leant back into the couch cushions and crossed her legs towards Myka, taking several seconds to rearrange her skirt while the American looked on.
"Well, darling, it's just the two of us now." She caught the brunette with a calculating look. "So what's the real story, Mrs. Bering?"
For a moment, Myka contemplated feigning ignorance but one look at Helena's expression told her that she would just end up encouraging the inventor to dig harder. She decided to settle for a summarised version of the truth. "I'm very grateful for your grandparents' hospitality. Christina and I left home unexpectedly and weren't prepared to end up in London. We're stuck here until our transport is ready to take us home." Her face became more serious as she added, "I can't really tell you more than that." Not waiting for Helena to respond, Myka rose from her seat. "I should go and find out what my daughter is up to. Your grandfather promised to give her a guided tour of the gardens."
"Marvellous!" HG exclaimed, jumping to her feet with no intention of letting the American escape. "My afternoon is woefully bereft of plans." She joined the other woman on her way out the door, pretending not to see the hint of panic directed her way.
Myka puffed out a breath of air and jumped when her companion's arm snaked its way round hers. She swallowed hard. Control, remember? They began walking in the direction of the garden, Helena's hip coming close to bumping against the time traveller's. It was somewhat comforting, having her lover's body so close; an anchor in a storm, but the effort it took not to lean into that figure was exhausting.
"Miss. Wells," Myka protested gently as she untangled herself and took a step away. "I am capable of walking on my own." She caught the instant expression of disappointment in the inventor's eyes and had to dig her feet into the rug so she wouldn't automatically respond. The hurt was quickly masked however and they continued in silence for a moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you," she eventually added.
Helena's softened gaze lighted on the brunette and a wry smile tugged at her mouth. She waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Who am I to criticise a woman who desires independence? Indeed, I should be encouraging it. Far too many of our sex pander to the notion that we must be looked after, guided. As if we were incapable of realising our own needs and desires."
"You don't believe that it's possible to have both?" The American enquired, finding an irresistible need to pick the young H.G. Wells' brain.
Dark, calculating eyes narrowed on the taller woman. "Not impossible perhaps but improbable."
"Your grandmother appears to have managed quite well," Myka noted obstinately.
"As I said, not impossible." Helena gestured for the taller woman to go ahead of her and followed. There were not many women she found she could debate with. Most quickly grew tired of her preferred topics and others tried to appease her by agreeing with her every thought. There was something open and honest about Myka's expression and her words, yet the woman was definitely hiding something. "She was fortunate to attract a simple man," she continued seamlessly.
"Simple?" Myka turned sharply to give HG her full attention. "That's hardly fair. He's lovely. You're lucky to have him." She knew that her tone likely wasn't appropriate for a conversation with someone she'd 'just met', but she felt their natural propensity to banter pushing through her thoughts. Seeing the inventor's attention drift to the window, she followed suit.
They stood now in the sun-room, overlooking the garden where a young girl skipped with unrestrained excitement through the flowers, her focus drifting between the late autumn hangers-on and the patient gentleman who followed at a short distance. Myka couldn't prevent the shiver of joy that ran the length of her body. She wished she had a camera.
Helena watched the two also, particularly the enchanting girl. Something deep down inside tugged, wanting her to step closer. She shook her head, refocusing on the conversation. "I could not wish for a better grandfather. Though he is hardly the mould from which men are formed," she argued.
"True," Myka sighed in agreement. Watching her future bride from the corner of her eye, she couldn't help calculating Christina's birth again and wondered whether Helena had somehow falsified the records. Perhaps she wasn't born in May at all, but then why wouldn't Helena have told her that? Swallowing her fear and thinking of Christina she added, "You shouldn't give up on them completely though."
Helena shot the brunette a curious glance. "Like your intended?" she suggested, the bitterness in her tone not quite what she'd planned for.
Myka returned the look, reading more into the exchange than HG was probably aware of. "We respect one another," she offered. It was cruel, having to speak about her partner as a man, but she had little choice. "That's not to say that we always agree, but we're learning how to compromise."
"Compromise?" The inventor scoffed, unconvinced. "A rare quality in a man."
Myka watched the young HG retreat into herself; her whole demeanour announcing her dislike of the conversation. As for herself, she didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity of the moment or sigh.
"Not everyone finds their intended. That one person who completes them like no other," the time traveller advised softly, her hand straying to land gently on a slumped shoulder. "But I'm sure you will, Helena... Someday."
HG read the sincerity behind those intelligent green eyes and wondered what Myka knew that made her so sure. The room around her seemed to spin as she fell into the American's gaze, the only outward sensation left being the touch of a hand on her shoulder, while her heart hammered in her chest.
As if she were a Russian doll, Helena felt her layers being pulled apart, slowly exposing her vulnerable inner core. Myka's gaze which, until now, had avoided meeting hers too closely, seemed to reach inside of her and grab tightly, wrapping her in knots. Those glittering pools offered a fathomless sea of possibilities and beckoned her to jump in, to release all control and throw herself at the mercy of this unknown desire.
Concerned at the abrupt change in HG's eyes, Myka squeezed the shoulder beneath her fingers. "Miss. Wells...?"
The slight tone of worry around her name brought the inventor out of her trance and she slowly came back to reality. What the bloody hell was that? Startled, she stepped back suddenly and stared at the brunette like she'd just been slapped.
Her body still thrumming, she stammered an apology and stumbled towards the door. She was vaguely aware of Myka's verbal concerns following her out but didn't stop to answer.
Uncaring of the odd looks she was getting, Helena let her legs carry her to the confines of her room, where she closed the door firmly, locking the world away as she closed her eyes and took a breath.
Away from the source of her distress, HG was finally able to calm her mind and bring her body back under control.
"Oh good Lord, HG," she mumbled into the empty room, her tone disparaging. "Why make such a spectacle of yourself?" When was the last time you ran from a handsome woman? Her thoughts continued to speculate as she collapsed onto the bed. Not since Margaret's sixteenth celebration when she cornered you in the sitting room while everyone was at dinner.
She had never thought there would be a repeat of that moment, and now here she was, almost ten years later, acting a bigger fool than ever. She had been innocent then, unaware of her own body and desires. The sudden influx of hormones had sent her running. Now she was experienced and no longer the blushing fifteen year old. How had this stranger managed to reduce her to a trembling adolescent with just one look?
Despite the ever present coolness in the air now, HG tugged at the collar of her dress, bemoaning the snap decision she'd made late that morning to choose something conventional to wear. She recalled the surprise and interest in Myka's eyes and decided that she didn't regret it. Still, it was constricting now and holding onto the extra heat beneath.
Taking her time, Helena removed the restrictive garment and donned her preferred outfit. When she was once again presentable, she hovered by the door.
Unused to being so shaken up, she was kicking herself for her abrupt and undignified departure. What would Myka think to her strange behaviour? What sort of impression had she given after her flirtatious beginning?
"What are you doing, HG?"
Just yesterday, she'd had no consideration for how one person might become the sole focus of her undivided attention. Eleanor had warned her, or tried to, but this couldn't be love, could it? That sort of nonsense, love at first sight and all that rot, were tales for gullible or fanciful children. Those whose minds had no experience of the hardships of reality or how the world worked outside of the magical land of make believe.
"It's not love," she told herself firmly.
She thought of Myka's mystery beau and felt that spike of jealousy return. It was an impossible task to imagine a man who would be good enough for the sharp brunette. Very few men lived up to her exacting standards and she loathed seeing women 'sold' to the highest bidder. Matchmaking was a pastime bandied about by older women to see their daughters married off to the most eligible man, and was generally considered harmless or even helpful. Helena thought it archaic and barbaric. It pained her to think of Myka in that position and she was convinced that this must be the case, regardless of how the brunette described her impending nuptials.
Helena knew deep down that she was beginning to tread through dangerous waters; it was stupid to raise Myka on a pedestal when she barely knew the woman, but put quite simply, she couldn't help herself. She'd barely known the brunette a day and she was enamoured already. This way could only lie disaster yet she already knew that nothing could stop her from taking that plunge.
Resolve restored, HG appeared from her hiding place with her mask of confidence back in place and a slight swagger to her step. She wouldn't hide from Myka and she'd be damned if she was going to let anyone think of her as a coward.
Several seconds passed as Myka stared after Helena's retreating form. She felt her own heart beating wildly; the charged look that had passed between them took her back to that moment in their bathroom, when she'd been under Inanna's influence and all she could think of was being intimate with her mate. She had been unable to tear herself away and Helena hadn't disappointed.
Feeling a shiver pass through her at the memory, she placed both hands over her gently protruding stomach. What's the connection? she thought, her frustration building.
The Warehouse was playing with them and Myka frowned at the idea of being a puppet to another being's desire. It reminded her too much of her childhood and her parents' all-knowing if well-meaning rule, and to some extent, her relationship with Sam. Seeing Helena's momentary distress infused her with another level of anger. Wouldn't Helena suffer enough if she was destined to lose Christina? Why was she being tortured now?
She wanted to run after the inventor but decided against it. Helena needed time to process without her interference. By the time she did hear returning footsteps, Rupert had dropped Christina off in the sun-room. The minute the eight year old stiffened in her arms, she knew who had joined them. With a whispered reassurance in her daughter's ear, she calmed them both and turned to greet HG.
"Miss. Wells," Myka said as if nothing strange had passed between them. She noticed a flicker of relief pass over the raven-haired woman's expression before it was quickly snuffed. She had been right to think that the odd moment had shaken her. "This is my daughter, Christina," she began the introductions. "Sweetheart, this is Miss. Wells, Rupert and Eleanor's granddaughter."
"Hello," a small but determined voice piped up, followed by an offered hand. "Pleased to meet you."
HG met nervous, dark eyes and felt that tugging again. She immediately felt her worries leave her. Acting on instinct, she bowed low, placing a chaste kiss on the back of the girl's hand and eliciting a tiny giggle. "The pleasure is entirely mine, Miss. Bering. Dull were the lives we led before you graced us with your presence." Still stooped in her bow, her head lifted and she winked mischievously.
Christina made another small sound of amusement while her Mama smiled and rolled her eyes at the inventor's antics.
Helena pulled a chair around the circular table and sat close to the two visitors. She felt the new magnetic pull from Myka but didn't dare meet her eyes again. Not yet. She kept her focus on the girl, whose company provided a definite sense of calm.
"How are you enjoying your stay, Miss. Bering? Are the gardens to your liking?" Helena oozed charm, hoping that her efforts would impress the girl's mother on some level.
Myka closed her eyes briefly, letting Christina and Helena's voices wash over her, for a moment, allowing her to imagine being back at home. As the conversation moved passed pleasantries, the eight-year-old began to express her love of the planets and stars, and her wish that she could some day visit them.
"When we build a tree house in my garden, I'm going to pretend it's a rocket. What do you think I'm going to name it?" Having moved to her own chair, Christina now knelt, her dress bunching up in peculiar places as she leant over the table, monopolising Helena's attention.
Fascinated, HG laughed to herself and sat back to give the question some thought. "Well, it will have to be something adventurous and worthy of space exploration... Titus?"
The girl stuck her tongue out, clearly not happy with the suggestion, which made the inventor's eyebrow rise high on her forehead and brought a chuckle from deep inside her Mama's throat.
"I'll take that as a no then. Icharus?" she tried again.
Christina's head canted to one side, her expression thoughtful. "Hmm, not bad," she acknowledged, nodding. "I'm thinking… 'The Time Machine'," she grinned, thinking of her mother's reaction. "Since travelling through space is rather like a journey through the history of existence."
This time it was Helena who laughed and Myka who rolled her eyes. Their gazes met and the American smiled warmly. HG felt that jolt of something run through her again and looked swiftly back at the enigmatic child. Though the sensation was a little disconcerting, a pleased smile still tugged at the corner of her mouth.
The rest of the afternoon flew by as the two alternatively entertained and were entertained by Christina. Myka kept her eyes on her daughter, not wanting to make Helena any more uncomfortable but was aware of the other woman's gaze drifting sporadically over her, at times lingering much longer than a cursory glance would suggest.
After dinner, where Christina insisted on Helena sitting next to her, the inventor appeared to hesitate as she was asked whether she would be staying for the evening.
"I think I shall take my leave," she finally decided, though her tone suggested that she wasn't happy with her choice. "I must prepare for our gathering after all."
Having relaxed throughout the day, Myka felt her tension return with the reminder. "I don't think I'm going to make much of an impression at this thing. I don't usually worry much about what I'm wearing, but I don't think I have anything fit for the company you're inviting."
"Then I know exactly what we shall do tomorrow," Helena clapped her hands together, excited by the excuse to return the next day. "I shall take you out and the two of you shall have dresses fit for royalty."
Annoyance warred with gratitude in Myka's mind while Christina jumped up and down with jubilation at the prospect of a day's shopping for pretty outfits. "Miss. Wells, something simple and not too showy would be enough. It's just one gathering; we don't need to be outfitted for the season." She regretted the matching expressions of disappointment facing her, but stood her ground.
"Oh pish-tosh! Darling, you are much too attractive to hide behind plain fabrics and dull colours. Of course, you could always try on a pair of trousers. I dare say the look would suit you admirably. As for Christina, I think she's behaved remarkably well under the trying circumstances and deserves a treat. What do you say?" She pouted ever so slightly, tilting her head to one side. Catching sight of the young girl attempting to emulate her, she exaggerated the move to comical effect.
"Fine!" Myka relented, throwing her hands in the air. She tried to be annoyed still, but the joy that followed her surrender washed away most of her ire.
HG stood, thanked the figures curled up on the couch for their company and made arrangements for their shopping trip the following morning. She left to make her farewells about the house but returned on a whim and poked her head through the doorway to the library.
"Oh, and Myka?"
"Yes?" the curly-haired brunette asked cautiously, wondering what other mischief the inventor could have up her sleeve.
"No more of this 'Miss. Wells' nonsense," HG insisted, pulling a face as she repeated her own title. "It's Helena, Darling."
Myka nodded and watched her future bride-to-be with a feeling of intense relief and loss. Her fluctuating emotions had made the day long and arduous, but at the same time, she felt gratified for the opportunity to peek at a side of her lover she had never known.
Feeling Christina's body become limp next to her, she realised that she wasn't the only one who felt drained by the day's activities. As she caught the distant sounds of HG's departure, Myka placed a long kiss on the top of her daughter's head and hugged her tighter.
"Well done, Sweetheart," she praised softly.
"Did I do well?" Christina's voice drifted towards the adult through a suppressed yawn.
Curious brown eyes stared up at Myka pleadingly and the agent felt her heart constrict uncomfortably. "You were perfect. I'm so proud of you."
Seemingly satisfied, the young girl smiled tiredly and sank her head back into her mother's shoulder.
Myka decided that it was time for them both to turn in and ushered her daughter from their cosy place, following her upstairs and saying goodnight to the household as they went.
Myka was awake and dressed early the next morning. She helped Polly tame Christina's hair where she'd laid on it and chatted with the young maid about her family. When their task was complete, she thanked her and led Christina to the dining room where Eleanor was already situated with a cup of tea and several envelopes.
"Ah, good morning," the lady of the house greeted the pair warmly, her keen eyes rolling over their attire. Christina skirted the table and said hello to the Wells' matriarch with a hug, which was fondly returned. "I see you're dressed for a day out. Are you off on an adventure?"
"We're going shopping!" the eight-year-old announced with all her renewed energy and enthusiasm.
Eleanor's surprised expression landed on Myka who appeared slightly guilty. "I made the mistake of mentioning our limited wardrobe to Helena and she insisted on taking us out to find something new for tomorrow night."
Understanding lit up the other woman's features and she nodded slowly. "I'll have Thomas accompany you with the carriage," she informed the time traveller. "Just don't let Helena take control of everything. I know you can be firm when you want to be," she warned her usually mild-mannered guest. "Once that girl has her head, you'll find it almost impossible to rein her in."
Myka smiled at the horse analogy and made a mental note to tell her lover once she was home.
A little way across town, Helena was cursing herself for having slept in. Arriving at her brother's the night before, she had once again chosen to work instead of sleep, sequestering herself in the basement and tinkering until the early hours of the morning. Intending to sleep for just a short while before the planned outing, she ended up falling into a vivid dream where two women and a man were shouting orders at a group of well-organised town's folk.
"Bugger!" she hissed as she ran around her room and stubbed her toe on the bedpost.
Gritting her teeth against the pain, she carried her shoes with her and hurried down the stairs. The hall chair provided a convenient place to perch as she pulled the slim-ankled shoes on and hastily laced them up, unconcerned with the impropriety of exposing part of her calf in a high-traffic area of the house.
"HG," an amused male voice came from further down the entrance hall. A young man with a cheery expression approached and leant against the banister. "Where are you off to in such a hurry? Another secret trip? Do you want to be mistaken for a Judy? You know, people are beginning to talk, sister."
"Let them," Helena grumbled brazenly. "What do I care for their opinions?" But even as she said this, she recalled her mother's warning and glanced at her brother's concerned expression. With a long-suffering sigh, she ran a hand through her hair. "I'm meeting with Norrie's guest to aid her acquisition of some appropriate garments for tomorrow's gathering. Mother wished to clear up any hint of a scandal and I'm doing my part. Do you object?"
"Not at all, H." He continued to stare at her, smiling knowingly. "Is she handsome?"
Helena rolled her eyes. Of course he would figure her out; she was practically screaming her eagerness to be with Myka already. "She is spoken for," she responded as if that was the end of it. Charles' expression told her that he didn't believe her a jot.
He shrugged very slightly before moving to help his sister into her coat. "I suppose I shall have an answer tomorrow when we are introduced," he teased. "I wonder how far the Wells' charm will get me with her?"
"Don't count your chickens, brother." Helena glared instinctively and then kicked herself for giving him exactly what he wanted. Grumbling as Charles' chuckle followed her from the house, the inventor stepped into the waiting carriage and hoped that her grandmother had laid aside some leftover breakfast.
Fluttering anticipation added to the churning in her stomach so that, by the time the driver had pulled up at their destination, she wasn't sure she would be able to keep any food down. The last thing she wanted to do though was collapse with exhaustion in the middle of Harrods and having had very little sleep, the possibility of that happening was very real. Resigned, HG crept in through the servant's entrance again.
Flag stone tiles accentuated the click of her heels as she entered but the sound was mostly lost in the hustle and bustle of the usual mid-morning flurry of activity. A strong smell of soap and blue permeated the steam-filled air from where sheets were already hanging on racks.
Seeing that the housekeeper was fortunately absent, Helena smiled at the remaining servants as she waltzed through the kitchen and liberated a slice of buttered toast and two boiled eggs. She loitered beside the oven, enjoying the residual heat after the frigid outdoors and ate as quickly as she dared while inspecting the huge laundry works, imagining the changes she could make to improve its efficiency.
Catching a warning glance from one of the younger delivery boys, HG heard the tell-tale sound of approaching danger. Smiling her thanks at the blushing lad, she wiped her hands on a nearby cloth and ducked out of the kitchen.
The dining room was empty as she wandered through in search of her shopping companions. Glancing at the clock on the mantel, she winced; she was over an hour late.
Sheepishly, Helena wandered from room to room looking for Myka and her daughter, becoming more and more concerned as each possible hideaway turned up another dead end. Eventually, she deigned to ask one of the maids and discovered that her quarry had taken to the garden after breakfast.
The sun-room led out onto the back patio, which was happily situated facing south but had been landscaped to provide logistical areas for both shade and full sun, to favour the extremes of winter and summer. Two trellis-led paths embarked in opposite directions, dwindling wisteria clutching to the diamond holes and creating an archway that promised discovery. Helena remembered with fondness the hours she had spent exploring this garden.
Keen hearing picked up the sound of a child's laughter and HG immediately took off on the Westward path, her feet bringing her to a halt at the exit to a small copse surrounding a pond. On catching sight of her target, she froze there and simply watched.
Under the boughs of a willow, Myka perched on a blanket, a long wrapper covering her dress and a scarf framing her face and neck. She held her hands before her, clasped together as if protecting something precious, while a curious eight-year-old leant over, eager to see what she had.
A squeal of shock became a peal of laughter as the American opened her palms to reveal a muddy-green frog that, spying its escape, hopped undaunted onto Christina's skirt and flopped back into the safety of the water with a satisfying 'plop'.
Myka laughed unselfconsciously, the genuine emotion reaching deep inside Helena and squeezing once more, making her reach for a hand-hold as her knees became weak. She watched as Christina threw herself at her mother in retaliation and felt a wide smile pull at her mouth.
Falling. She was falling. And there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it.
Up next, a little shopping trip for dresses...
