Irene turned, her eyes widening in surprise. “What? Oh, no, she is quite sweet.”
“So you are happy living there?” That was a rather blunt way to put it, but the question needed to be asked. For a multitude of reasons.
Irene merely shrugged, her face averted as they wandered down the lane. “I suppose I am as happy here as I would be anywhere.” She paused and flashed Helaine a mischievous look that so resembled the girl she used to be. “And the food is much better than anything I had at home or at school.”
“But do you eat it?” The words were out before Helaine could stop herself.
“What?” Irene asked, her expression slipping back to vague. “Of course I eat.”
They turned a corner and, far ahead, Helaine could see the park. Despite what Mrs. Knopp had said earlier, Helaine wondered if Irene could make it so far a distance.
“Irene,” she said softly, putting a hand on her friend’s arm, “forgive me, but are you well?”
Irene slowed, obviously reluctantly. “I am tired all the time,” she finally confessed. “And I weep at the strangest things. A sound. A smell. I know it is grief. I know that it has become a danger to my health. I know it, and yet…” She shook her head. “I cannot seem to stop it.”
“Grief?” Helaine asked. “For your father?” Irene’s father had died a bit more than a year ago, but there hadn’t been much love between them. “Or perhaps you grieve what might have been,” she said, her thoughts turning to her own life. “I often wonder what would have become of me if my father hadn’t been…well, if he hadn’t been such an incredible idiot.”
Irene’s smile was wistful, but there was a tautness in her body that felt almost like anger. And her hands were clenched so tightly it was a wonder no bones broke.
“Irene?”
“I grieve for Jeremy,” she said, her words almost clipped. And right there, Helaine saw a flash of the girl who used to be. The one who would sometimes rant about injustice and the cruelty of having a father who lived solely to hunt and eat. “I grieve for my husband and the life we never had.”
“Oh!” cried Helaine, her face flooding with mortification. How ridiculous that she had never suspected such a thing. “But the nature of your engagement…the things that were said…I was well out of the social round by then, but even I heard.” She bit her lip, trying to stop the flood of words. “I beg your pardon, Irene. I cannot think how stupid I sound. Please, please, forgive me.”
Irene released a soft sigh, then began walking again toward the park. Her steps were fast, as if she were outrunning some demon, but then she tired and once again returned to a pace that Helaine could easily match.
“I know what was said about us,” Irene said. “How Papa made Jeremy pay a bride price for me. About how terrible he was to sell me to the highest bidder. It wasn’t true, you know. It was never true. But I let them say it because it was the only way Papa would let us marry.”
“You loved him!” The words came out as a kind of shocked exhale.
Irene lifted her face to the sun. “I was so angry, and he made me laugh. He called me beautiful and brought me treats.” She glanced at Helaine. “No one had ever brought me treats except for you and you were gone.”
Now it was Helaine’s turn to look away. The less said about her departure the better.
“Yes, I loved him. But he had to go on that damned boat. He had to prove himself a seaman and a captain.”
Helaine glanced at her friend’s face. “Was he very bad at it?”
“Oh, no. He was very good, but even a good man can die at sea. They said there were pirates, but Jeremy rallied the crew and fought them off. But he was wounded and grew ill. They even cut off his arm to try and save him, but it was too late.”
“Oh, my God,” Helaine whispered. “How horrible!”
“We learned of it ten months ago, but he was three months at sea before that. So a year has passed since I last saw him. A year since he held me in his arms. A year since…” Her voice broke and she rushed forward. They were near enough to the park now for her to reach a bench. Irene half stumbled, half collapsed onto the seat. But then she just sat there, her eyes gazing off at a nanny pushing a pram.
“Oh, Irene, was there a baby?”
She shook her head. “No child. And sometimes I wonder if that is a blessing. I do not know that I could care for a child.”
“Of course you could,” Helaine said firmly. “There is a strength that appears when one most needs it.”
Irene’s gaze shifted to Helaine. “Do you think so?”
“Of course I do.” It was a ridiculous discussion since there hadn’t been a babe. Still, Irene seemed to take comfort in it. Sadly, it put paid to any hope that Helaine had of success in her mission. She could not ask a grieving woman to set everything aside and…well, and become even lower than a woman who had married a cit for love.
So she sat there with her once best friend and looked at the nannies and their charges. They stayed there for nearly a half hour when Irene abruptly shook herself out of her reverie.
“Come now, out with it. What did you want to ask me?”
Helaine started guiltily. “I’m sorry?”
“Don’t try to hide, Helaine. You forget that I watched you hide that shrew Claudia’s socks. You didn’t come visit me on a whim. You have something to ask.”
Helaine lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “I came to make an offer to a desperate woman trapped in an unhappy home. I was wrong to assume such a thing, and I deeply apologize.”
“But you weren’t entirely wrong. I am unhappy. Just not for the reasons you assumed.”
“Either way—”
“Either way, you shall ask me what you came to ask. And then we shall see what is to be made of it.”
Helaine nodded. In truth, she had no other choice if she wanted to avoid the poorhouse. And yet it was so desperately hard to confess. How did one explain her choices to a woman who had fallen in love and married into wealth?
“Come, come, Helaine. It can’t be so hard. I already know about your father’s sins.”
“But not my own.”
Irene merely raised her eyebrows in query. In the end, Helaine gave in.
“Do you know what I became after my father died?”
Chapter 2
“I’m a shopkeeper, Irene. I own a dress shop, or at least half of it. Or almost half. Never mind, the particulars don’t matter. The point is that I design clothing, Irene. And my partner sews them. I am a tradeswoman and…” She looked up into her friend’s eyes, trying to express the amazement she felt at her next words. “And I absolutely love it.”
Irene’s mouth dropped open, the shock obvious. “I just assumed you had married or something.”
Helaine laughed, though the sound was strained. “Well, that is the usual course of things, isn’t it? And I had offers, too, but not for marriage.” She saw understanding flash through Irene’s eyes.
“Yes, I know the type of man who comes calling when a titled girl is in trouble.”
Helaine dared touch her friend’s hand. “But you found love. For a time at least.”
Irene’s expression grew wistful. “Yes, for a marvelous time.” Then she straightened to frown back at Helaine. “But we are speaking of you. Do you really own a dressmaker’s shop?”
“Yes. It’s called A Lady’s Favor and it’s not too far off Bond Street. I go by Mrs. Mortimer there.”
“Really?” Irene tilted her head. “I cannot imagine you as a Mortimer.”
Helaine smiled. “My mother was fond of bemoaning how mortified she was at what I was doing. Mortified, mortified, mortified! I took the name Mortimer to tweak her.”
“And did it?”
