A Lady's Fate

Chapter One

Lady Helena Rowley was a creature of habit.

For her, there was no greater comfort than the knowledge that everything was 'as it ought to be'; the simple satisfaction of the quiet, orderly life she had painstakingly constructed for herself. No nasty shocks; no unexpected surprises; there was no room for uncertainty of any sort in the meticulously-run household of Alverton Hall.

Helena privately felt she had been made for the role of mistress of the house. Although laden with the responsibility at rather a younger age than most – her mother having passed on when Helena was just fourteen – to her credit, the practical young girl had plunged headfirst into the world of household budgets, purchasing of supplies, and charitable visits without a murmur. At the time it had simply been an ideal distraction from the yawning chasm of grief deep inside her – but over the course of the past five years, Helena had taken great pleasure in creating an organised system to ensure the smooth running of her dear father's impressive home.

By now all thirty members of household staff were well acquainted with Lady Helena's insistence on precision and punctuality. The daily schedule ran like clockwork, and everyone from Helena down to the scullery maids knew exactly what was supposed to occur at each part of the day.

Upon entering the breakfast room on this particular morning, however, Helena found herself faced with a rather nasty surprise. Lord Alverton did, indeed, occupy his usual chair at the head of the table, and he was, as ever, completely immersed in the newspaper. Notably absent, however, was the usual selection of preserves to accompany the fresh rolls – and with a sinking heart, Helena remembered the week's food order she had meant to provide for Mrs Potter, the housekeeper, yesterday. Normally Helena would never forget such a thing; but throughout the previous afternoon, she had foolishly allowed herself to become distracted by fanciful musings about a certain man who occupied her thoughts far too often lately.

Helena sighed in frustration; this was her first sign that it was to be a bad day.

"I am terribly sorry, Papa," she told Lord Alverton regretfully as she slid into her usual seat adjacent to her father's. "I fear we are to have no marmalade with our rolls this morning, for the arranging of the food order yesterday slipped my mind entirely."

"Not to worry, my dear," muttered Lord Alverton unconcernedly, barely lifting his gaze from the tiny print he was currently poring over.

Sometimes Helena wondered why she worried herself to such an extent over achieving perfection in the upkeep of Alverton Hall. Though the extensive redbrick building had been home to the Rowley family for almost two centuries, the current Earl of Alverton felt no strong attachment towards the house – for upon his death, it was to pass out of the hands of the Rowleys, into those of his nephew, Sir Edmund Wills.

No, Lord Alverton cared not how his household was run; not since Lady Alverton's tragic death in childbirth with their second child, who also did not survive, thus eliminating the possibility of an heir. A second marriage had been suggested by many an acquaintance – but the grief-stricken Earl refused to consider the prospect of taking another woman. His had been one of those rare and beautiful matches of love, and he could not imagine loving another as he had his dear Elaine for as long as he lived. Thus he remained decidedly unattached – and, much to Helena's sorrow, desperately melancholy even to this day.

Were it not for the all-consuming task of securing Helena a worthy match to occupy him with, Helena feared the melancholia would claim her father entirely. It often struck great fear in Helena's heart to wonder how on earth her father was to cope once she married, leaving him completely alone without anybody to manage the household. Lord Alverton wanted Helena to marry – it was his greatest desire to see his daughter settled – yet the reality of Helena's absence would near destroy him. They had, after all, been each other's only company for a great many years; her father would feel her absence sorely when the inevitable separation came.