Chapter 25 — A Bold Move

It was a near-run thing but Lord Percy did appear just in time to claim his dance. "I am ever so sorry!" he said, as he rushed up to Helena.

"No matter," she told him, smiling warmly in relief. "You are here, now." She lifted a hand, preparatory to placing it on his arm. "Shall we…?"

They no sooner stepped onto the dance floor than the quartet struck up a Viennese waltz. Helena sank into her curtsy, Lord Percy into his bow, and then, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder and his arm coming about her, they joined hands and began with the other couples to move to the music. Between the constant revolving and twirling, they had neither leisure nor breath for long exchanges, and so, though Helena longed to ask him a myriad questions about the tête-à-tête she'd been told of between him and Miss Stanhope, she resigned herself to the necessity of waiting, and gave herself fully to enjoying the dance. They said little as they circled and turned, but the long-held looks and smiles they shared were, to Helena, as eloquent of their pleasure in each other as any words might have been. She felt a growing elation, a giddiness, almost, as, secure in Lord Percy's embrace, they moved smoothly over the floor, her steps so perfectly matched to his and his lead so certain and skilled, she could abandon herself without thought to the flow of the dance. When he spun her into a twirl and she, skirts belling out behind her, turned back to him, all but laughing for joy, he grinned at her in return, eyes alight with admiration and something more, something, she dared to believe, warmer and more tender. At last, the music slowing and coming to its close, they saluted each other again, Helena's hand as she curtsied pressed against her rapidly-beating heart. Rising, she said, "Thank you, my lord! I do believe I have never enjoying a waltz so well!"

"It's for me to thank you, surely, Miss Damerel," Lord Percy said, extending her his arm. "You're an exceptional dancer, and it is ever a great pleasure to partner you."

They took a sedate turn about the floor, their breathing gradually returning to normal and their conversation of the lightest, most inconsequential sort. It was only once they were seated in a corner of the supper room, a variety of delectable savories on the plates before them, that Helena ventured, "Lord Devlin mentioned that, on his errand for me, he found you speaking with Miss Stanhope."

Lord Percy's easy expression clouded over, his brows drawing down as he nodded. "I asked her to dance — at your mother's request — but she insisted that we sit and talk instead. You'll have worked out that she's the force behind the effort to discredit you?"

"I supposed she must be, yes. Once she revealed whose niece — or, more to the point, whose granddaughter — she was, the puzzle pieces slotted into place. That woman — Mrs. Scorrier — has always hated my parents with a passion and would have done them an injury any time these last twenty years had it been within her power. Finally, she has had her chance to strike at us through Miss Stanhope and has taken full advantage."

"Yes," Lord Percy temporized, "and... no. The grandmother is, as you surmise, the primary source of all the malicious gossip but Miss Stanhope categorically denies acting the avenging angel on her grandmother's behalf. She claims her motives were entirely separate and personal."

"But…" Helena objected, frowning in confusion. "How can that be? We barely know her, or she, us."

Lord Percy glanced about the room, his gaze touching on their fellow diners as they laughed and chatted away. "Are you certain you would not rather wait to hear the tale? I should not like for it to spoil your pleasure in the evening."

"Oh! As bad as that, is it? Well, now you must tell me something! Just a brief précis, perhaps."

"You're sure…?" At her nod, he conceded, "Very well. It all harks back to those few weeks she spent in Yorkshire." Lord Percy went on to relate the grand outlines of Miss Stanhope's story: the family loss that had prompted the invitation to Undershaw, the tension reigning over a household short of money and feuding with its closest neighbor, the aggravation of having for all company relations who were self-absorbed and tiresome when they weren't actively abusive. "Over the course of her stay, she became conscious of all the blessings your family enjoyed — your high standing in local society, your easy circumstances, your parents' half-dozen sturdy children — and your good fortune differed, point by point, so sharply from her own family's and her aunt's that she conceived a deep and — she admits this herself — unreasonable resentment of your happiness and prosperity. She was powerless at the time to do anything but swallow her rage at the injustice of fate, but then, her family enjoyed its own stroke of luck, and, in embracing her new, more affluent life, her resentment of you fell away and was forgotten.

"And, likely, it would have remained safely buried in the past had you made only a moderate success of your debut, but you have dazzled, Miss Damerel. You have turned every head, captivated every eye, cast every other debutante in your shade and been acclaimed the Season's Incomparable, a title that was Miss Stanhope's own until you made your appearance. You have outshone her just as you did six years ago, and that reawakened the bitter feelings of envy and humiliation she'd known as Miss Throckmorton. Her pride would simply not tolerate your triumphing over her again, and so, she acted to bring you down. That way, if she could not win, at least you should lose as well. She is entirely without remorse," he added, his lips curling with distaste. "She's puffed up, rather, at the damage she's caused."

Helena picked at the lobster patty on her plate, her mind grappling with all that Lord Percy had said. How far she'd been from divining the truth! She had pegged Miss Stanhope as her grandmother's proxy, misguidedly avenging the wrongs supposedly done her kinswoman, when the reality was far different and more complex. She had never once suspected that, beneath her proud, condescending exterior, Miss Stanhope was consumed with envy at the advantages she enjoyed. "How sad," she found herself musing aloud, "to be so desperately unhappy that the only way to relieve your pain is to inflict it on others."

"No!" Lord Percy said, aghast. "You are never going to feel sorry for her! Not after all the harm she's done you!"

"But she is not, at bottom, wrong about me. I have received more than my fair share of blessings, and, while that is neither my fault nor my doing, I have benefitted all the same. I've never known the fear of losing someone I loved, or the misery of being taken from my home to live among strangers. I've never been obliged to consider something's cost, or worry about what my parents could afford. I've been fortunate at every possible turn, and I can understand that someone who's suffered heartache and setbacks should find it galling."

Lord Percy gave his head a slow shake. "You are being far too generous."

Helena smiled a touch wryly. "I should doubtless be less forgiving had she cost me something I value, but she has not. The good opinion of some, when it's lost at the first hint of scandal, is not worth the having, and neither is the friendship of those who are all smiles while you're in fashion and cut you the moment you aren't." Lord Percy made no immediate reply to these observations, but rather regarded her with a look she could not at once decipher. There was something of pain and sympathy in it, and she thought at first that he discounted her words, believing her to be putting a brave face on a bad situation. She felt a flash of irritation, but then, as she continued to study him, she saw that he was holding something back, a remark or question that, out of delicacy, he was hesitant to raise. "Ah!" she said, understanding at last. "You are thinking she may have cost me Lord Hartshorne and that, at least, must count as a significant loss, but I shall be frank with you, my lord, as perhaps I should not be, and assure you I shall not be at all sorry if, as his absence tonight appears to suggest, his lordship should withdraw his suit. In fact, I should be glad of it."

"Glad?" Lord Percy repeated, in a careful tone.

"Yes, and relieved into the bargain. I have felt for many weeks now that I should not like to marry him — not out of any personal aversion, you understand! He is all that is civil and correct but I am not drawn to him, nor, I suspect, is he to me. Rather than want to marry him, I have been harried by this feeling that I should, that it would be impermissibly foolish and impertinent of me to turn my nose up at so brilliant a match. I was flattered to be chosen, of course, and swayed in his lordship's favor by the prospect of making my parents proud and of using my elevated rank in the coming years to advance my sisters' interests. As the eldest, I have always felt it my responsibility to look out for them, and it seemed to me the height of selfishness to consult only my own inclination when, by marrying well, I could secure them so many benefits."

"You were prepared to marry him, then, out of a sense of obligation to your family?"

"That, plus a good dose of vanity and self-doubt. But then, all unwitting, for she can't have intended it, Miss Stanhope did me the service of opening my eyes to the fickle, petty nature of the society I should have to move in as Lord Hartshorne's wife, and I knew I wanted no part of it. That begged the question, then, of what I did want, and after much reflection, I realized that, since coming to Town, the advantages I'd been conditioned to value in a match — higher standing in society, increased wealth and wider influence — are not at all those my parents raised me to prize or would urge me to favor. They have told me many times that all they wish for me is to know the kind of happiness in my marriage that they have known in theirs, a happiness founded on an abiding regard and respect one for the other. If they knew I'd been inclining to accept Lord Hartshorne for purely worldly considerations, they'd be appalled."

Lord Percy could not quite suppress a wry chuckle. "That certainly sets them apart from most parents in our circle!"

"Yes, and it's just another instance of how fortunate I am. I have no doubt that, should Lord Hartshorne come through with an offer and I decline, I will have their full and unqualified support."

"That's reassuring, indeed." His smile, which had begun as simply pleased for her, took on a gently teasing twist. "And are you as certain of their support when, eventually, you wish to accept a suitor as when you refuse?"

"Oh, as to that," she answered on the same light tone, "you may be sure I shall give them no grounds to object. Here, I shall tell you what I require in a suitor, and you shall judge whether I am reasonable or no."

Lord Percy, caught off guard, hesitated briefly before managing a cautious, "If you'd like."

Helena acknowledged his acceptance with a nod, and began, "First and foremost, he must be a man of good moral character from a well-respected family of no less than equal social standing with mine. He need not have a title; in my experience, a simple Mr. may be as worthy a gentleman as any marquess or duke."

Lord Percy conceded this with a tip of his head. "You could set the bar higher, but, as a bare minimum, it's acceptable."

"Next, he should be a man of some property. He need not own a vast estate, but it should be sufficiently large to support a family in a style and at level of comfort in keeping with their standing in the neighborhood. In addition, as I should not like to reside at too great a distance from my family, I should much prefer that the property be in Yorkshire, and, if at all possible, in the North Riding. As for a house here in Town, he may have one, or not. I do not anticipate wanting to spend more than a few weeks here each Season, and a house can be rented for that length of time or we can stay here as my parents' guests. There's room and to spare."

He allowed this as well. "Again, your requirements are too modest, but not overly so. What else?"

"I think you will agree it's important that a husband and wife share similar values, and, of these, I should favor a man who, like me, places love of family and strong ties to parents and siblings above all others. I should like to see evidence that he is a caring, dutiful son, a stalwart friend and support to his brothers and sisters, and that the loyalty and regard he reserves for them are returned to him in equal measure."

Lord Percy bit back a smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "And should the gentleman have the misfortune to be an orphan or an only child?"

She shook her head in mock regret. "That would be a fatal strike against him, I'm afraid. Oh! and he must have not only brothers, but sisters, as well — two, at the very least!"

This gave him pause, but after a moment, he supposed, "You will want to gauge whether he will be a good brother to your sisters."

"Precisely! Now, as to the man himself, he must be older than I, that is a given, but, though it has worked for them, I should not like the age difference between us to be as great as that between my parents. I am thinking five to eight years older would be ideal."

"Not yet in his thirties, then."

She nodded. "He need not be a man of the world, but he should have experienced enough of life to have gained a certain confidence and wisdom." She offered him a playful wince, and continued, "You will doubtless think me presumptuous, but I must insist on the man's being intelligent. I don't mean he must be an intellectual, or a scholar, like my uncle, but he must have a keen wit, a open and inquiring mind, and the discernment to appreciate fine art and literature. He must be well-educated and have attended university — Cambridge, as a preference — and, if he should share my interest in the Classics and be able to read ancient Greek, that would be greatly to his advantage."

Lord Percy treated her to a long, probing look. "That is… oddly specific."

"It's not a distinction most girls would rate high," she granted, "but I would find it a plus. In any case, as I said, it's more a point in the man's favor than an absolute requirement. The same is true of other secondary considerations such as, for example, the man's appearance. It will come as no surprise that I am partial to men who are tall but I should prefer a man who stands, say, a head taller than I, no more. I find men who are fit and trim more attractive than their bulkier, more heavily-muscled fellows, and men whose coloring is on the lighter side — gold-brown hair and blue eyes — more appealing than those who are dark. As for features…" She took her courage in both hands, and, greatly daring, allowed her gaze to range appreciatively over his face. "I have a decided predilection for a noble brow, lean cheeks, a straight nose, and square chin."

In the silence that followed, Helena became all too uncomfortably aware of the pounding of her heart but, even so, she willed herself to hold steady and meet Lord Percy's eyes. He had gone entirely still, so motionless he might have been a statue but for his eyes intently searching hers. She did not look away, and, some few tense moments later, his stiffness eased somewhat as he released the breath he'd caught and held. "So…" he began, only to stop to clear his throat when his voice came out hoarse. "If I might summarize your position, the man whose suit you'd favor would be the scion of a well-respected, fairly wealthy, relatively large and, above all, close-knit family, the members of which would not hesitate to come to his aid when asked, even on short notice. Do I have that right?'

"You do."

"Additionally, his property must lie in Yorkshire, and close enough to the Priory to allow for frequent visits back and forth. He must be reasonably astute, have some practical experience of the world, and be able to converse intelligently on such topics as fine art and literature. A Cambridge education and a passable knowledge of ancient Greek would be feathers in his cap. In stature, moderately tall. Light brown hair, blue eyes, between the ages of twenty-five and twenty-eight. Have I forgotten anything?"

"No, that is the gist of it, but there is something I should like to add: he must waltz divinely." She smiled into his eyes, inviting him to share in the little joke. "Might you, perhaps, know someone who fits the description?"

Lord Percy was, once again, reduced to speechlessness, the warring pulls of desire and restraint plain to read on his face. At last, he said, "Miss Damerel, your father…"

"My father," she interrupted, "will have only one requirement in addition to mine, and that is that the man who seeks my hand do so out of true respect and regard for me. He will need to be assured that I am cherished, not for the dowry and connections I bring to the marriage, but for myself, and that securing my happiness and security will be my husband's first priority and his privilege. If he can satisfy that one requirement, he need have no fear of my father's disapproval."

Still, Lord Percy hesitated, his torn expression eloquent of the conflict raging within him. For long moments, the outcome hung in the balance, but then Helena saw — or thought she saw — that the struggle had turned, his resistance steadily losing ground as his fragile hopes gained strength. He opened his mouth to speak, but Helena was not to learn what he might have said for in that instant a tinkling of crystal rang out and grew progressively louder as more goblets were struck. Turning toward the sound, Helena saw her father standing at the head of one table, acknowledging his guests' assistance and then gesturing for quiet.

He surveyed the room before beginning, his lips twisted in the wry smile Helena knew so well. "It has not escaped my attention," he said, "that a number of wagers have been laid on the chances of my announcing a betrothal this evening. I should not like to disappoint expectations…" An excited murmur rose up at this, heads turning, all smiling anticipation, toward Helena who, for her part, could only stare back, stunned. She spared a round-eyed look for Lord Percy and saw a mirroring shock in his eyes.

"So…" Her father pointedly raised his voice and when silence fell again, he continued, "With the generous permission of the bride's mother…" He nodded to where her mother sat beside Louisa Harcourt. "And her uncle…" Uncle? Helena had time to think before her father tilted his head, not at Conway or Aubrey, but at George Hendred. "I have the honor and pleasure of announcing the forthcoming marriage of our dear cousin Georgina Harcourt to the son and heir of a very old friend, Walter Flavell."

There were gasps of surprise, some laughter and then warm applause as a blushing Georgie and a beaming Walter rose to accept the crowd's congratulations. Lord and Lady Flavell left their seats as well, Lady Flavell to envelope her future daughter in an embrace and Lord Flavell to clap Walter heartily on the back. Helena smiled to see Georgie's aunts and uncles jump up as well, all of them eager to shake Walter's hand and gather Georgie into a hug.

Helena turned to share her pleasure in the moment with Lord Percy, and found him smiling reluctantly, as if despite himself. "Your father's quite the jokester. Did you really have no warning?"

She shook her head. "Not the slightest hint. I might have guessed, though, that something of the sort was in the cards when Papa announced — oh so casually! — that he'd invited Lord and Lady Flavell." She looked back to where Georgie and Walter stood crowded closely about by their loved ones and friends. "How happy they are!" she said, on a contented sigh. "And you, my lord, had a hand in bringing it about! Don't trouble to deny it! I worked it all out some time ago." She sighed again, wistfully this time. "I do so hope that kind of happiness is in store for me as well." She turned in her chair so as to face him fully. "How would you rate my chances, my lord?"

He returned her gaze squarely, all uncertainty gone, a soft smile half admiring, half indulgent on his lips. "If it depended only on me, I would say very good."

Helena scarcely dared breathe. "Are you saying you will…?"

"Is it truly your wish?"

She nodded.

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

She was startled into a short laugh. "No, no!"

Lord Percy broke into a wide, helpless grin. "Tomorrow it is, then. And may the Fates be kind."