Page 114 of The Duke's Dream
Alone, Helene perched on the chaise. The seconds ticked by. Lady Thornley must be worried about Maggy’s presentation, otherwise, she wouldn’t interrupt their schedule. Two weeks was too soon. Would she agree if Helene suggested coming every day after rehearsals?
Sunlight streamed through lace curtains, casting a soft glow on the elegant furnishings. A family portrait by Lawrence hung on one wall. Nearby, atop a writing desk, a newspaper lay torn to shreds. What sort of news had affected the genteel lady so deeply?
The double doors swung open. Lady Thornley swept inside, her black attire as severe as her expression. An uneasy flutter settled in Helene’s stomach. She hadn’t realized Lady Thornley had been close to William’s mother.
“Good morning, Lady Thornley. I know these are stressful times. But I guarantee that Lady Margaret will do splendidly—”
“Miss Beaumont, I’m afraid I will have to dismiss your services.” Lady Thornley’s gaze was unyielding.
“But Lady Margaret’s court presentation is next week.”
Lady Thornley lifted her chin, her nostrils flaring as if she had caught a whiff of something distasteful. “We believe Lady Margaret is ready for Saint James, and therefore, your classes are no longer necessary.”
“Maggy is making marvelous progress, but if we stop now, it will affect her self-confidence. Please reconsider. If the issue is monetary, I can forgo my wages—”
“How dare you?” She spun to her writing desk and rummaged through the disordered papers. Finding what she sought, she snatched it up. “I was trying to spare the unpleasantness of the situation, but since you won’t let go, you force me to speak in plain words. I must protect my daughter from association with a ruined woman. Your sordid affair with the Duke of Albemarle was made public.”
Helene’s hand gripped the couch for support. “Oh, I did not know—”
“What, no pretty denials?” Lady Thornley’s voice dripped with mockery, her lips twisting into a sneer that deepened the lines on her face.
Helene read the “on dit” about her and William, and her cheeks burned. “I won’t deny what is true. But the newspaper is wrong. I never tried to convince him of politics, and I—”
“How could you do this to me?” Lady Thornley’s voice cracked. “I opened my house to you. I made a fool of myself before my friends, exclaiming about your talent and virtue.”
Helene had hurt this woman who had shown her nothing but kindness. Her chest ached, and she took a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“
“When you danced on that stage, you lifted me above war, politics, and the humbug of daily life. For a few moments, I was, I was—” a hiccup escaped her chest. “You had an immense beauty and talent, and what have you done? You killed La Sylphide.”
Helene hugged herself, the crumpled paper falling from her hand.
“La Sylphide lives contentedly in a world of art, but Helene—Helene is human.” She pressed her fist to her breast, her chin trembling. “Helene has feelings she barely understands. She craves and urges, she has pains in her toes, and sometimes, her back hurts so much she cannot stand. For La Sylphide, looking at James and sprinting away was enough, but not for Helene.”
Her throat ached, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Was it so hard to understand she was human?
“Helene fell in love—”
“Love does not exist,” Lady Thornley spat, her voice steeped in bitterness. “There is only society, drudgery, and duties. The mere glimpses of heaven in life are meager and far between, and none of them are found in marital bliss—you killed them with one indiscretion. Get out.”
She turned her back to Helene, her shoulders heaving.
Helene’s chin dropped to her chest. Not only had she lost Lady Thornley’s friendship, but because of her, Maggy would suffer. She had failed her pupil more than anyone.
“Please—just let me see Lady Margaret. I need to say goodbye,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Lady Thornley did not turn to meet Helene’s gaze. “That is impossible.”
Helene dragged her feet to the exit, her chest heavy. The poor lady shouldn’t have to be so agitated while in mourning. “I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t realize you were close to the Dowager Duchess of Albemarle.”
"I haven't spoken to that woman in years."
“Oh. Since she passed away last week and you are dressed in—I thought you were in mourning.”
Lady Thornley pressed a handkerchief to her nose. “It is not for her that I grieve.”
***
Helene matched her steps to Celeste’s and Louise’s as they went from Soho to the theater.
