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She turned to Helena. "Should you like to rest in your chamber until we return, my dear?"
"Might I go to the library, ma'am?"
"Tis Adam's domain, but since he is to be out most of the day, you may certainly inspect it if you wish."
"Are you a great reader?" Charis asked.
Helena paused, trying to frame the most innocuous reply. "I spent my happiest hours after Mama left in the library," she said.
Which was true enough.
"I do love the works of Mrs. Bumey," Charis said, and sighed.
"The events were exaggerated, of course, but oh, how brave were the heroes and how fiendish the villains!"
Once again, Helena hesitated before answering. Heroes truly were the stuff of fiction and as for vil- 77
lainy... The images flashed into mind before she could stop them: the restraints, the whip, the airless, lightless priest's hole where she had nearly lost her wits.
Shaking off the memories, she replied, "Isolated as we were, Mama taught me to love reading, but she preferred Scott, Shakespeare and the poets. Also the French philosophers—Pascal, Montaigne, Voltaire. Though truly, I read almost everything—
travel journals, phi losophy, mathematics. I would love to explore foreign lands."
"You sound like quite the bluestocking!" Charis said. When Helena looked at her, uncomprehending, she explained, "A lady of vast education is known by that term—not a very complimentary one. I'm afraid it isn't considered admirable for a lady to be too learned."
Helena widened her eyes. "Society values ignorance?"
"Not precisely. I'm making a muddle of this." Charis looked to Lady Darnell. "Could you explain, ma'am?"
"Of course a young lady can't be ignorant," the other lady replied. "She must be able to manage a household, stitch and embroider competently, and deal with servants and tradesmen.
'Tis desirable that she sing and perform pleasingly on the pianoforte or the harp and play well at cards. Some competence in reading French or Italian is also permissible, but a lady shouldn't fatigue her mind with too much book-learning."
Helena laughed ruefully. "Then I've acquired almost 78 THE UNTAMED HEIRESS
no useful knowledge at all. I haven't set a stitch in years and have no idea how to get on in Society or manage a household. But if learning is so despised, why does anyone keep a library?"
"Oh, 'tis quite acceptable for gentlemen to be educated. But the gentler sex isn't equipped to comprehend foreign tongues or study ancient literature—gods and goddesses cavorting about in the most unseemly fashion! And gentlemen don't admire a lady who seems too.. .knowing."
That she could believe, Helena thought acidly.
"You are far braver than I," Lady Darnell continued. "I do not stir from London without two grooms to ride post and John Coachman on the box with his blunderbuss! To think of you traveling all alone on the mail coach is enough to give me palpitations, to say nothing of envisioning you in heathenish foreign lands!"
She shivered. "Pray, do not speak of it again. Having just found you, it is our earnest hope that we can make you so comfortable that you shall never wish to leave us. But enough,"
she conclude d as Helena sat mute, overwhelmed for the second time by Lady Darnell's generous affection. "We must be going, Charis, if we are to complete our commissions and return betimes."
After the ladies left, Harrison led her to the library. For the next hour, Helena explored with delight the treasures of diis well-stocked room.
What a marvelous retreat this would make! she thought, selecting several volumes from the shelves. However, if this were Lord Darnell's domain, she would not have unlimited use of it.
She would have to
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ask Harrison every morning about his master's schedule for the day.
Her inventory of the library's holdings complete, she gazed around the room, taking in the sofa and two wing chairs before the he arth and the massive desk in the corner. Adam Darnell's desk, of course.
Though her first impression told her this man would not be her enemy, best to learn as much as possible about the master of the household in which she now resided. Curiously she walke d over to inspect his desk.
A stack of ledgers occupied one corner; an inkstand, quills and nibs were set at the center above several sheets of blank paper. To the other side was an assortment of books—Plato, Cicero and
Voltaire, along with The Compleat Farmer and An Account of Operations at Holkham Estate.
If the desk were an indication of the character of the man who used it, Adam Darnell was neat and organized, a careful landlord and something of a scholar. He was certainly handsome, she recalled, some unnameable something stirring within her at the memory, and he seemed kind.
Still, it might be wise to explore the remainder of the house before the ladies returned. One never knew when a speedy exit might become imperative, and in such an e vent, one could not count on using the front entry.
However, with a dressmaker coming this afternoon, Helena's most pressing need was to determine if the friendly parlor maid would be suitable to serve her. Even if the maid never saw her without her shift, at
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some point in the apparently laborious dressing process, that garment might slip—and the maid who viewed her back would need to be prepared and staunchly loyal to her service.
Leaving her chosen volumes for later, Helena exited the library and followed the hallway to a door that led to a flight of service stairs. As she expected, these ended on the ground floor next to the kitchen.
Within that ample room, a mob-capped woman tended a pot over a large iron cookstove while two other women chopped vegetables at a center table. At a smaller table to one side, Harrison sat across from an older lady in a dark dress with a set of keys pinned to her apron.
Conversation ceased and every occupant of the room turned to stare as she walked in. She sensed immediately that she had trespassed outside her proper domain.
Harrison jumped to his feet. "Excuse me, Miss Lambarth, I didn't hear you ring. What do you require?"
"Excuse me, all of you, for coming here uninvited, but I have a bit of a dilemma that I hope you can help me solve." Helena addressed herself to the dark-robed woman. "You are the housekeeper, Mrs. Baxtor?"
"Yes, miss," the woman replied, curtseying.
"As I did not bring one with me, I need a lady's maid. I should prefer not to hire some unknown person out of an agency and wondered if I might instead speak with the girl who waited on me this morning—Molly, I believe?"
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The butler and the housekeeper exchanged glances. "Harrison takes care of hiring help, miss," the housekeeper replied. "Molly is just a lower housemaid and hasn't been trained for such work. If you step up to the parlor, I'm sure Harrison can discuss your requirements."
Harrison bowed. "If you will follow me, miss?"
Nodding to acknowledge the curtseys of the staff, Helena dutifully left the room. So much for her distant memories of going with her mama to the kitchen to sample Cook's fruit tarts, she thought ruefully. Not only had she obviously stepped out of place, she had stumbled into a hierarchy that did not readily admit
change. Housemaids, apparently, did not turn overnight into ladies' maids.
She would find no allies among that lot, Helena concluded, recalling the startled and mildly disapproving faces. But then, the household would go as the master dictated, as she ought to know well enough by now.
She must try a different tack, she decided as she trailed Harrison into the parlor. It would probably be better anyway to hire an outsider beholden to Helena alone for her position. But not, she was adamant, an experienced woman who would know instantly how out of place Helena was.
As Helena seated herself, Harrison said, "You would like me to inquire about a lady's maid, miss?"
"Mr. Harrison, let us be blunt. My error in invading the kitchen must have confirmed what a man of your stature probably saw at first glance—that I wasn't
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trained as befits one of my station. Lady Darnell will be helping me address those deficiencies, but while she does so, I do not wish to engage a dresser who would immediately note my inexperience. I should like to talk with Molly and see if she has a relation I might hire. I hope I could then rely on your guidance in instructing a new girl in her duties."
Harrison nodded. "Better to bring in a newcomer than raise a maid here above her station. Naturally, I shall assist anyone you hire. I'm sure Mrs. Baxtor will, too."
"You will have Molly sent to me, then?"
"Yes, miss. I expect Mrs. Baxtor can spare her from her work for a few moments."
After pronouncing the last without a quiver of irony, Harrison withdrew. But as Helena waited for the maid to appear, memories of a conversation overheard on the way to London suddenly sparked another, better idea.
In addition to allowing her to personally select her employee, this alternative would insure that the person she chose would owe her position to Helena alone— and probably be grateful enough for the opportunity that she would work hard and ask no questions.
Best yet, Helena would be able to see at least a little of the city immediately. Indeed, by slipping out to hunt for a maid now, she could enjoy a freedom of movement that, based on what Aunt Lillian had just told her, she would probably have to forfeit once she'd been transformed into a young lady of fashion. A thrill of delicious anticipation energized her.
