Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

“ I t was such a lovely party,” Lydia gushed, her face glowing radiantly with happiness. “You all did not need to go to such trouble!”

“We wanted to,” Alice replied with a beaming smile, patting her sister’s baby bump lovingly.

“It was not fair, though, we did not have such parties for you or Barbara,” Lydia countered, placing her hand over her sister’s.

“Yes, well, we were not as anxious about having children as you and Ezra are.” Barbara replied in her usual frank nature. “Besides, we all wanted an excuse to celebrate. Christmas is still two months away, and it can get so dull in London during the winter months.”

Helena sat at the tea table centered in the sunroom of her home. The large windowpanes framed the stark coldness of the outdoors, but with the two large hearths roaring with fires it was as warm inside as any summer day.

Her eyes were focused on the nearby trees. Most of the leaves had fallen and scattered into the roadway, creating the illusion of orange, yellow and red confetti dispersing throughout the streets of Mayfair. Some stubborn leaves still clung to the tips of their branches, shriveled and colorless, and refused to let go. She felt a pang in her heart as she watched two leaves flutter in the wind, and silently hoped that they would find the strength to hang on.

“Helena, what is wrong?” Teresa whispered at her side, low enough so the others could not hear.

She said nothing as she turned away from the trees and picked up her spoon to stir her tea.

“Not a thing,” she murmured, busying herself with refreshing the teacup with more hot water.

“Are you still disappointed?” Teresa asked, her brows drawing together in sad concern.

“Disappointed in what, darling?” Barbara asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Helena fought the urge to give Teresa a scathing glare for asking such a thing in front of the others and forced a close-lipped smile onto her face as she picked up her cup of tea.

“Not a thing,” she lied.

Barbara gave Teresa a stern look, the kind she frequently used to pull the truth out of an unwilling informant.

“I…well, we were umm, discussing our hesitancy the other day,” Teresa managed.

“Hesitancy to what?” Barbara demanded quickly.

Lydia and Alice looked away from one another, their focus shifting to the two young, unmarried women seated at the table. Helena knew that if she did not immediately stop Teresa from talking she would tell them everything. Taking a deep breath, she turned and boldly asked, “Barbara, what makes being married to my brother so special?”

Barbara stilled, a look of confusion overtaking her beautiful face as she stared at Helena.

“I love your brother madly, Helena, you know this,” Barbara replied, then threw a questioning look at Lydia and Alice.

“Yes, but why?” she asked, then followed Helena’s gaze to her other friends. “I know you all love your husbands deeply, but why?”

“Where is this coming from, my darling?” Lydia asked, her tone gentle and nurturing. It was ironic that, out of all of them, Lydia was the one most afraid of becoming a mother.

“Are your husbands passionate with you?” Helena asked, then quickly added, “not by our society’s standards. I know they are that well enough. But are they like the men in the books we all love to read? You have all alluded to such similarities from time to time, but do you truly mean what you say?”

One by one, each of their faces turned varying shades of red. Lydia immediately lowered her head and placed both hands upon her pregnant belly, where she traced invisible patterns to avoid the question. Alice shoved an entire slice of lemon cake into her mouth, coughing on the crumbs, and Barbara, normally so forthcoming, dropped her teacup and watched as the dark brown brew slowly seeped into the white linen tablecloth.

A servant immediately appeared to clean up the mess, but Barbara quickly waved her off.

“Why are you asking us about such things?” Barbara asked, once she was sure the servants were out of hearing distance.

Deciding there was no time to be bashful, Helena looked Barbara directly in the eye and answered, “because I know my brother plans to marry me off soon. He has you now, and baby Beau, and that is now his focus.”

“Helena, wait a minute,” Barbara countered, but Helena put her hand up to silence her.

“I am not upset by it, Barbara,” she replied earnestly, “I love you and I love my nephew, and I am happy that that he chose you to be his bride. But you all must now be allowed to focus on your new families. To do that, I know my brother must find me a husband.”

“He is not so cruel as to take all choice away from you,” Barbara countered, her brows drawing down, “Do you think I would allow such a thing?”

“I know you would not, dear sister,” Helena answered quickly, “but I just…”

“Pardon me, my ladies,” Helena’s handmaid, Agatha, spoke quietly as she approached the table. “My deepest apologies for the interruption.”

“No apologies needed, Agatha, what is it?” Helena replied, relieved that she could finally end their awkward conversation. She had no clue what she was trying to say or what she was trying to learn from the others, but the conversation had gone horribly.

Agatha held out a small, blood red envelope as she said, “I was given strict orders to deliver this to you straightaway, my lady.”

Teresa’s eyes grew wide as she saw the envelope, thinking, no doubt, that it was another coveted invitation to the Devil’s Masquerade.

“Who is that from?” Barbara asked as Helena took it from Agatha and slipped it into her pocket.

“The stationery store,” Helena replied, the lie coming a little too easily, “I know my signature color is pink, but as age encroaches upon me, I was thinking it might be time to choose a darker color.”

“But I love your pink envelopes,” Alice stated, pouting a little as Helena rose.

“Perhaps I shall keep a few, just for you,” Helena replied sweetly with a smile.

She leaned down to kiss Alice on the cheek, then did the same to each of her other friends.

“I must read this and make my decision,” she said. “Then, I believe I shall go and lie down. Please, continue without me.”

Helena’s friends wished her well as she took her leave. Once she had made it safely into the hallway, Helena all but broke into a run up the stairs. She had known all along that the letter had not come from the stationery store.

In the privacy of her bed chambers, Helena opened the letter, and, as she suspected, saw Morgan’s handwriting.

Persephone,

It is time to begin your lessons in sin.

In two nights’ time one should know,

To follow the path through the wood and stone,

Then come to a gate where the garden stands alone.

Knock twice at midnight to gain entrance to your hell,

And there you will find your paradise as well.

X

Hades

“Clever,” Helena murmured as a smile grew on her face.

It would be vague to anyone who did not know about the small path that led between the Colborne and Grandhill Estates. To get there without taking the main road, all one had to do was exit through the back garden, walk straight into the woods and over a small, stone bridge. If one kept walking, one would find themself at the back garden gate of Morgan’s London house.

She read over it again, feeling a tingle of excitement as she mouthed Persephone. She decided then that she preferred that nickname far more than ‘little princess’. And ‘Hades’… well, although she would not have initially chosen that moniker for him, the more she learned about Morgan, the more she agreed that it suited him perfectly.

“Very well, Hades,” she murmured, tossing the envelope and letter into the fire roaring in her quarters. “I shall see you in two days.”