70. The return from Henley-upon-Thames

I returned from my errands in the Ton on that Friday afternoon to see the landau stood outside the house as footmen carried items of luggage into the house - there actually seemed to be more than they had taken with them - so I assumed that Helena and my sisters had returned.

Despite that, Rogeringham House was deserted. Not one of my sisters was to be seen and when I went to see my mother in her room, Phoebe, her maid, advised me that her mistress was feeling fatigued and that she might see me later for supper.

I locked my purchases in the strong box in my study and sat down to write some letters. I half expected Charlotte to find me, which she usually did but I finished the letters and gave them to a footman and still no sign of any of my female relatives.

I went up and dressed for supper and when I came back downstairs, Helena was waiting for me in the dining room.

"Good evening mother," I leaned forwards and kissed her cheek, "Did you have a good visit with the Dorringtons?"

Helena mumbled something, as I waited for the footman to seat her.

"David." I turned to the footman, "Please remove the settings to my room, I think we will take supper there, thank you."

Helena looked at me aghast. It would take the staff a few moments to relocate everything so I walked my mother into the sitting room and poured her a drink.

"Am I wrong in this?" I asked. "I feel like there are things that we should talk about. Would it be better in private?"

She nodded, before draining her glass.

I offered Helena my hand, which she took, and we walked up the stairs to my room. Her hand felt relaxed in mine. Whatever had happened, it was not so bad that we would not be able to talk about it, eventually. Something had occurred, that much was obvious, and to be truthful I was quite eager to hear what she had to say. Knowing the Dorringtons, and the conversation that Elizabeth had had with my mother some weeks ago, I had my suspicions that whatever had happened was amorous in nature, but I was most careful to keep my expression and tone neutral. I did not want to suggest any kind of displeasure to Helena, and neither did I want to show eagerness.

She would tell me in her own time and in her own way, and all would be revealed.

Helena and I began to eat, and still all she would do is make small responses, as if she did not trust her tongue to speak, so instead I told her about my week, giving her news about becoming a Justice, telling her about Emily Dodgson, suggesting that we should host her and her daughters here in London, and treat them to a concert at some point.

Thus, it was that I chatted away through the meal, with hardly more than a sentence passing my mother's lips.

Finally, the footmen cleared the meal away and Barclay brought a fresh bottle of wine. I poured Helena a glass, and one for myself, walked over to the fireplace and filled and lit up a pipe, and sat down upon the couch.

I had just blown a string of five perfectly formed smoke-rings, when my mother came and sat next to me.

"William," she began, "I must apologise_"

"Whatever you say, beloved, it does not matter." I told her.

Helena was horrified, "Are you so angry with me?!" She looked perfectly distraught.

"What?!" I said in surprise. "No, my love, not at all." I assured her hastily, "I am not angry. In fact, I have never loved you more." She looked at me trying to comprehend my tone, my words, the emotions running through her.

"I was merely trying to say in my clumsy way," I went on, "That there is nothing that you could say that would require an apology. Not to me anyway."

I was not certain that she was re-assured by my words, and I drew her to me. "Tell me what happened and if it makes you feel better, I can be angry with you afterwards."

Helena sat up and looked at me, before pushing me in the shoulder, "I am serious." She said, partly in relief and partly in exasperation.

"I have no doubt," I told her. "But I will not know whether you need to apologise - or whether I need to be angry with you, until you tell me what occurred. Come, let us move to the bed, I sorely missed you lying next to me last night."

We settled together. Neither of us undressed fully, merely shedding enough clothes to feel comfortable, lying entwined en deshabille on the covers. Helena's shoulder pressed into my side and my arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"Now." I said, "Tell me what you have done that makes you feel that you must apologise."

Helena pressed closer, as if the words were bubbling inside her and she needed to free them. Indeed, I could feel her excitement.