A Lady's Fate

Chapter Three

"It really is a nasty business, milady. Those burns did look terribly sore; are you sure I cannot fetch some laudanum, to dull the pain?"

"No, thank you, Dorothy. I am very grateful to you for attending to me so diligently this past hour, but now I think I shall be quite content to remain comfortably sitting in my bedchamber."

Helena settled back in the armchair adjacent to the blazing fireplace with a heavy sigh. Having passed the last hour in the quiet, attentive company of Dorothy, some portion of the trauma from the morning's events had now abated – as, thankfully, had the violent pounding in her skull which had been present as Helena made her hasty exit from the drawing room. An hour of calm and solitude had also rid Helena of the frightful rage she had managed to work herself into during Lord Carningsby's visit.

Lord Carningsby himself had, by Dorothy's account, been most reluctant to leave until he could see for himself that Helena was not harmed. With each trip to fetch Helena some water, or a soothing salve to apply to the burns, Dorothy had reported the baron to be hovering persistently at the foot of the staircase, refusing to take his leave until he was admitted to Lady Helena's bedchamber to assess her condition himself.

"He spoke as if he were quite qualified to give an opinion on medical matters, milady," muttered the usually docile Dorothy angrily.

Normally Helena would have chided her maid for speaking disrespectfully of a nobleman; but on this occasion, she could not help but share Dorothy's views. Despite the unfortunate accident, Helena had not forgotten Lord Carningsby's possible intention to propose, and nor could she discount the prospect of him barging into her bedchambers and asking her to marry him there and then. It was to Helena's great relief, then, that Dorothy announced Lord Carningsby's eventual departure, having given up waiting at last.

No sooner had Lord Carningsby left, however, then his hovering presence was replaced by none other than Miss Thorpe's. That lady was perhaps the last person Helena wished to see at present – and so, with some sharp words from Dorothy, the young woman was sent scurrying away. At this particular moment in time, Helena could not even find it in herself to feel guilty for treating her guest rudely; Miss Thorpe's behaviour during tea had been so dreadfully unladylike – so utterly common – that Helena was beginning to wonder how they might ever succeed in forming a friendship. It was not entirely clear what sort of upbringing the young lady had received in Yorkshire – but it was evident that Helena and Miss Thorpe moved in very different circles.

"I shall leave you in peace then, milady," said Dorothy now, moving slowly towards the doorway.

Distracted though Helena might have been following her traumatic morning, Dorothy had been her lady's maid long enough for Helena to realise that something was troubling her.

"You seem a little out of sorts, Dorothy," commented Helena, in a gentle tone free from accusation. It was Helena's firm belief that a happy servant would work more efficiently; therefore, if something was amiss with a member of staff, it made perfect sense to attempt to rectify their problem.

It was Dorothy's firm belief, however, that she should go about her duties with nothing but the utmost professionalism, keeping any worries or woes distinctly separate from her work. Between Helena's determination to help, and Dorothy's determination to remain silent, it meant conversations of this sort could often become rather lengthy.

"Come now, Dorothy," coaxed Helena. "You know perfectly well the direction these discussions take. Try as you might to remain a martyr and soldier on, you experience without fail a great sense of release once you eventually disclose the details of your troubles. Thus is the inevitable conclusion of our conversation; therefore, I must entreat you to jump ahead to the part where you share your problem, so that we might eliminate the unnecessary dawdling in between."