too,” Cassandra said.
“Of course,” Pandora said firmly. “Who needs a husband?”
Chapter 30
HELEN AWAKENED AS AGATHA, the lady’s maid who attended her and the twins, entered her bedroom with a breakfast tray.
“Good morning, my lady.”
“Good morning,” Helen said sleepily, stretching and turning on her side. She was briefly surprised to be confronted with the face of a sleeping child.
So it hadn’t been a dream.
Charity was so deep in slumber that the slight rattle of teacups on the approaching tray didn’t cause her to stir. Helen stared at her with a touch of wonder. Despite the child’s pitiful spareness, her cheeks were babyishly rounded. The lids covering her large eyes were paper-thin, with delicate blue veins, thinner than human hairs, etched on the surface. Her skin was poreless, translucent over her pulses. It frightened Helen to realize how vulnerable this small person was, a fragile construction of delicately joined bones, flesh, veins.
Sitting up carefully, Helen let Agatha settle the tray on her lap. There was a steaming cup of tea, and a silver pot of chocolate next to an empty cup.
“Did the little one sleep well, my lady?”
“Yes. I don’t think she stirred all night. Agatha . . . I didn’t ask for tea in bed this morning, did I?” She usually took her tea and breakfast downstairs in the morning room.
“No, my lady. The countess bade me to bring it to you, and chocolate for the girl.”
“How kind of her.” At first Helen thought it was a peace offering, after the uncomfortable scene last night.
She was soon to learn otherwise.
Discovering the sealed rectangle partially tucked beneath the saucer, she picked it up and opened it.
Helen,
Upon reflection, I realized the obvious solution to the muddle you are in. The child, and all responsibility for her, belong to my nephew. It is finally time for him to solve one of the problems he has created. I have already sent word this morning that he is to retrieve his daughter forthwith, and do with her as he sees fit.
The matter is now out of your hands, as it should be.
I expect Mr. Vance to arrive within the hour. Have the child dressed and ready. Let us try not to make a scene when it comes time for her departure.
This is for the best. If you do not realize it now, you will soon.
Helen set the note down, breathing shallowly. The room seemed to revolve slowly around her. Vance would come, because he wanted Helen to marry Mr. Winterborne, and Charity was an obstacle to his plans. And if he took Charity away with him, the child would die. He wouldn’t kill her, but he would leave her in a situation in which she couldn’t survive. Which was more or less what he had already done.
You will take her over my dead body. Picking up the tea, Helen tried to swallow some, finding it difficult to guide the shaking rim to her lips. A splash of hot liquid fell on her bodice.
“Is something amiss, my lady?”
“Not amiss,” Helen replied, setting down the cup, “but Lady Berwick has requested that I have Charity dressed and ready for the day, in very short order. We need the clothes that were washed for her last night. Would you ask Mrs. Abbott to bring them to my room right away? I need to speak to her.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Take the tray, please, and set it aside.”
After Agatha had left, Helen slid out of bed and ran to the wardrobe. She pulled out a velvet tapestry bag, took it to the dresser, and began to toss articles into it: a hairbrush, handkerchiefs, gloves, stockings, and a jar of salve. She threw in the tin of neuralgic powders—although she wouldn’t take one while traveling, she might very well need it by the time she reached her destination.
“Helen?” Charity sat up and regarded her with big, bright eyes. A hank of hair had sprung up near the top of her head like a bird’s plumage.
Helen smiled in spite of her suffocating panic, and went to her. “Good morning, my little chick.” She hugged her, while small trusting arms clasped her waist.
“You smell pretty.”
Helen released her with a fond stroke on her hair, went to the breakfast tray, and poured chocolate into the empty cup. Testing it with the tip of her pinkie finger, she found that it was warm but not too hot. “Do you like chocolate, Charity?”
The question was greeted with perplexed silence.
“Try it and see.” Helen gave her the cup carefully,