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“I am tired! I work like a mule every day with little to no food, and this is the height of it!” she squawked finally, her tongue loosening. “I do not even have a lady’s maid, and you spare me no time to read! I am no longer interested in living here!”
Helen dropped the broom in defiance and plopped back on the chair. Aunt Gertrude’s face was a mask of astonishment, and it filled Helen with joy. Standing up for herself felt refreshing like a glass of lemonade after a long day of waiting in the sun.
“Y-You want to read?” Aunt Gertrude sputtered, her face red-hot with rage. “You want to indulge yourself with those sinful books and waste your time? When you should be praying to God to help your image so that one day you could return to society?”
“I want to do something other than work myself to the bone,” Helen replied, her tone clipped and disrespectful. “If you will not get some servants to clean the house, then I will leave!”
“And go where?” her aunt snickered. “Your reputation is ruined in London so much that even your father does not want you to return.”
Helen fell silent for a moment. “He does not want me to return? Father would never do that to me.”
“Then why has he not replied to your silly letters and petty requests? Because this scandalous attitude of yours has placed him in a humiliating position!”
Aunt Gertrude leveled a hard stare in Helen's direction. The pieces came together in Helen's mind. Her face turned pale as a sheet, and she slid from the chair to the ground.
“You want me to spare you time to read those books? I will not! This is a house governed by Godly acts. And you will not defile it with sin! You will not have a lady’s maid throughout your stay here.”
Helen’s mouth formed words, but her voice was stuck. Nothing felt right with the world. When her father’s reply did not come as she expected, Helen comforted herself with the thought that her father had merely been busy.
“This is my house, and you will abide by my rules! The chores will turn you into a respectable woman by keeping your hands and heart busy!” her aunt continued. “Soon enough, you will be cleansed of every lustful thought.”
“But, I never did anything wrong,” she replied, despite the fact that her tongue felt heavy. “It is all a lie.”
Tears fell from her eyes, sliding slowly down her cheeks. Her father did not want her to return back to London. Pain blossomed in her chest as her body was wracked with sobs.
“Get to the laundry now!” Aunt Gertrude said, pulling Helen by the ear. “Your actions have cost you dinner. Now leave my sight!”
Helen picked up the broom and turned around silently. She was still in a daze from the pinch to her ear and the slap that stung her face. But what had her wits was the news she heard.
She shut the door behind her and slid to the ground, crying. Helen never expected to feel neglected by her father, but that was all she could feel. What saddened her the most was that the scandal was never her fault. An unknown man tried to get his filthy hands on her and everything went to pieces.
For the past few days, Helen had been living on little food. Mostly potatoes and bread but never like the feast back in London. She had plans to run back home, to leave Aunt Gertrude’s bitterness behind. As the tears filled her mouth with salt, Helen left to do the laundry.
It was an arduous task washing her aunt’s elaborate gowns and underwear but Helen had no choice, even though she would not have dinner that night. She missed Sonya and the rest of the staff back at home. And most of all, she yearned for the company of her best friend.
Helen hummed to take her mind off the life she was forced to live as she spread the linen and silk on the clothesline. She retreated to the safest place as her hands worked to air the clothes.
“I have to leave soon,” she muttered, hanging the last of the clothes to dry. She made up her mind to leave, and since her reputation was ruined, there was nothing to hold her back anymore. Helen hatched a plan in her mind — one that would help her get a ride back to London with only a few pennies.
Rushing up the wooden stairs, she opened the door to her room. Once again, Aunt Gertrude was standing in a corner. Helen looked to her desk beside the window, and her stack of books were nowhere to be found. In fact, all her belonging were on the floor, including the powder-blue ball gown she had worn to what now seemed like her last ball of the Season.
“What are you doing?” she screamed at her aunt. “You never come in here. Where are my books?”
“Exactly where they belong,” Aunt Gertrude replied, an accomplished smile on her face. “In the hearth, gobbled up by the flames.”
Helen was stung. Her face became a mask of horror as she struggled to understand her aunt’s words. The books were her only escape from the sickening reality she lived in. At night, Helen turned on the candles to read. It reminded her of the time she spent with the Duke when they talked about Shakespeare and Byron, and the kiss that they had shared.
“Why?” she asked, fear giving way to fury.
“I took away the very source of your sin! Those books are the cause of the scandal. I replaced it with the word of God, to guide you out of the darkness.”
Helen could feel her anger consume her like a tempest, swarming and churning. All the fear was gone, shoved into the deepest crevices of her heart.
“You had no right!” Helen cried. “They were not yours to burn!”
“I will not take any more of this insolence! You —”
“You burned them because they were filled with sin? Making me do chores, cleaning the pantry, and doing the laundry was not enough for you? You had to burn my books!”
