Helene, page 6
Helene did this quickly, as an urgency to have done with’ the nonsense took her.
The gypsy, as though sensing her attitude, picked up one pile and looked through it. Not finding the card she was looking for, she picked up another.
“What are you doing?” Helene queried.
“I have to find the Queen of Wands before I can begin.”
“Queen of Wands?”
“Yes, pretty lady, it’s the card that signifies you and your sign.”
“My sign,” Helene said sharply. “What is it?”
“You are a Scorpio,” the gypsy said nonchalantly. Unwillingly impressed by this piece of guesswork, Helene gestured the woman to continue. With great deliberation, she proceeded to lay the cards out in the form of the Celtic Cross. Fascinated now, Helene watched and drew her breath in sharply when the Devil was exposed in the reversed position. He looked so ugly and menacing. His body was naked, rather feminine in shape, and he had horns growing from his head.
“Do not worry, pretty lady,” the gypsy soothed, sensing Helene’s alarm. “The true meaning of the Devil will not be established until I have finished dealing the ten cards.”
“If you say so,” Helene responded, her apprehension abating slightly. “I suppose I am silly really to set such store by the turn of a card.”
The gypsy ignored the remark and finished laying out the Cross. The cards now seemed a jumble of colorful shapes and numbers to Helene, but the woman surveyed them intently, obviously understanding the significance of them all. Then, in a low, barely audible voice she began.
“I see nothing of any great sorrow here, madame, but a great deal of potential danger. You are governed by six of the major Arcana. This indicates that your fate is outside your control.”
“Ridiculous,” Helene murmured. “I cannot believe that.”
“I can only tell you what I see,” the gypsy whined. “And I see strong forces at work.” She indicated the six Arcana cards which represented the forces she spoke of. “I must advise you to revise your present and immediate plans for the future, for they will not succeed. The problem for the time being is insurmountable.”
Helene looked at the gypsy sharply. Surely she cannot be referring to Juliet and Nicholas’ problem; it would never do for her plans in that direction to fail. Intrigued, Helene gestured the woman to continue.
The gypsy picked up the first card of the Cross. “This card, the High Priestess, represents the environment in which you live. In her upright position she will bring you strength and hope and eventually suggest a new solution to the problem that faces you.”
Thank goodness, Helene thought with relief. Mayhap Juliet will not have to elope after all. The gypsy continued quietly, cutting into Helene’s thoughts. “The Devil in this position is the opposing force. He can be dangerous to encounter, for he will act like one possessed. However, if his power can be measured and controlled, then the dark forces he leads can be obliterated.” The woman paused as she continued to look at the card. Without raising her eyes she asked, “Do you know who this man is?”
Helene shook her head, unwilling to say anything, for she didn’t want to give any hint that the woman was making sense. But the Devil had to be the earl.
“I think you are afraid to acknowledge my truth,” the gypsy whispered. “Heed my warning, though, for he is dangerous.” She fingered the third card for a few moments. “This one, Strength, indicates that something has happened, possibly someone you have met recently, that will become part of your life. It also says that your generosity and goodness will stand you in good stead.”
Helene’s thoughts flashed to Captain Longford, but with a quiet sigh she quickly shrugged these away.
“Your immediate past is represented by the Two of Cups, which again indicates that you have met someone who will exert a great influence in your life. And the King of Cups, who looms above you, is a skilled manipulator. He will use you for the fulfilment of his own ambitions, but be warned. He is treacherous, dishonest and cares only for himself. He will involve you with evil, vice and scandal.” This time the gypsy looked at Helene. “If you know of this man, you must avoid him, for he could bring about your ruination.”
Helene shook her head. The only person who fitted that description was the earl again. And he would never have the temerity to harm her.
“So be it,” the gypsy muttered crossly. “Here, your negative feelings are shown by the reversed Hanged Man. It would seem to me that you have no great liking for your present circumstances. It would also appear that you would be far happier in the country, away from the constant need to socialize with people who contribute little to your true happiness.”
Reluctantly Helene nodded her head in agreement. The gypsy smiled triumphantly.
“Then you should leave London, my dear,” she said gently. “For the longer you stay, the greater the danger you will be in.”
“That’s nonsense,” Helene said with some asperity. “Anyway, it is impossible for me to leave at the present, especially after the expense my father has been put to to bring me here. Tell me, what is the Star indicative of,” she asked, pointing to the ninth card of the Cross, “new dizzying heights I shall achieve?”
The gypsy shook her head despairingly. “I am sorry you are troubled by this reading. Perhaps it is better for us to end here. I feel hostile vibrations emanating from you which makes my task difficult.”
“Oh, no,” Helene said contritely. “Please continue. I am sorry my tongue ran away.”
“Well, the Star represents your own hopes for the future. You are ambitious and your thirst for life will ensure that you will gain your aims eventually, but not without a struggle. You must show great patience and endure some reverses.” She picked up the last card and said quickly before Helene could interrupt, “This one, Death, shows the final outcome. He influences all the other cards.”
“And what is the final outcome?” Helene asked unsteadily, the gypsy’s uncanny accuracy bothering her.
“You will experience a major change in circumstances, which is, however, the natural outcome of your present situation. But first there will be destruction.” The gypsy held up her hand as Helene was about to speak. “This you will eventually recognize to be a blessing in disguise as it clears the way for something better.”
“Does it involve my family?” Helene asked anxiously.
“No, of that I am certain. I see it more as the removal of someone from your life who represents the danger I see around you.”
“The earl,” Helene breathed in horror.
The gypsy looked at her sharply. “You know to whom I refer?”
Reluctantly Helene nodded. “But it makes no sense, for he cannot, nay, would not dare, harm me.”
“But he will try,” the gypsy persisted. “However,” she continued as she picked up the Two of Cups and Strength, “you have protection, particularly from the Two of Cups, and eventually you will move forward into the future unhindered.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Helene said, attempting to inject a light note. “It would be too dreadful to think that the Devil would not get his just reward.”
“You joke about serious matters,” the gypsy said in hurt tones.
“I did not mean to offend you,” Helene said hastily, “But, really, I cannot believe that I am in danger. Although I do find what you say very interesting…and…thank you.” She rose and was about to leave, when the gypsy’s voice stopped her.
“Do you not have any questions?”
“No. No, none at all. You have been most kind. And thank you again.” She wanted to get back out into the fresh air. The atmosphere in the tiny caravan had suddenly become claustrophobic and the smell of incense overpowering. The fun she had anticipated at having her fortune read was sadly flat. But, she thought, if what the old woman saw was true, then she would have to think of some other way of thwarting the earl’s forthcoming marriage. Not once did it occur to her to think that the gypsy was talking about Lucy’s disappearance.
Unbeknownst to Helene, the gypsy watched her walk back toward the house. Then, making certain no one saw her, she quickly slipped out of the caravan and melted into the shadows behind the lilac tree.
6
THE young man, dressed in a paint-smeared smock, paused in the middle of a downward stroke on the canvas in front of him and turned to stare unseeingly out of the window. He had specifically chosen his rooms for the view they gave, but today he ignored it. The Seine, somber and gray in the pale spring sunlight, and the bustle and noise of the colorful marketplace below went unheeded.
Slowly he turned and looked down at the stump hanging at his side, all that remained of his left arm. His gaze fell on a letter propped up on the mantelshelf. He groaned as a feeling of abject misery swept over him. He had fought his true feelings for so long now he had almost convinced himself that his love for Juliet had receded.
“Damn! Damn! Damn!” he muttered aloud.
“Nicholas, mon cher.” The sultry voice of a partially naked woman interrupted him. “What is zee matter? You ’ave been like zis now for many days. I feel concern for you.”
“Get dressed, Natasha,” he said abruptly. “I am not in the mood for work today.” He put his brush down and walked over to the letter which he fingered lightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“You ’ave received some bad news, Nicholas?” Natasha’s voice was petulant. She was not used to such treatment. Artists paid handsomely for the privilege of painting her body, yet this young man, while he painted with a mechanical talent, failed to find the inspiration in her others found. The only reason she had continued to sit for him was because Robert had begged her. As a special favor to him, he had said. That he had paid her well was something she chose to forget. “Or perhaps I am not…not belle or whatever you Anglais say.” She pouted in what she knew was an attractive expression.
“Yes to your first question, Natasha, and you know the answer to the second is no,” Nicholas answered wearily. “Now, run along and get dressed, there’s a good girl. Swen will be here shortly, and then we can all go out for some lunch.”
“Mon pauvre Nicholas,” Natasha said soothingly. Her interest was roused, for she enjoyed other people’s misery. “Maybe I can ’elp you.” She rose from the couch slowly. Without haste she sauntered over to where Nicholas stood and put a hand on his chest. “Do you want to talk to me, mon cher? Robert, ’e always say that to share a problem somehow it gets less big, n’est-ce pas?”
Nicholas looked down at the semi-naked model in front of him. Her dark, salacious looks did not appeal to him in the slightest. Suddenly he found her lack of modesty vulgar. He gently tweaked a raven tendril that lay on her shoulder in an effort to hide his feelings. “Thank you, but no, Natasha. This is something that I have to work out for myself.” He gave her a playful slap on her buttocks. “Now, be off with you.” He watched as she left the room before turning his attention once again to the letter.
Helene had left no room for doubt in his mind. Juliet was being besieged by the Earl of Radford. He shuddered at the thought that the earl, of all people, should have fixed his attention on such a delicate person. Nicholas sighed as his body throbbed with a longing to hold her in his arms. To comfort and caress her.
“Dammit,” he said as he looked at his stump in distaste. “What right have I to inflict myself on her?”
Every right, Helene’s letter said. Juliet wants only you, and if your continued absence forces her into a misalliance with a scoundrel, then Helene, for one, would never forgive him.
He started to pace the wooden floor, searching his mind for an answer. The letter had arrived seven days ago and still he could not decide what to do. All he could offer Juliet was his love. He had no fortune. A sizable allowance, yes, but nothing that would keep them in any decent luxury. And with his handicap, what hope had he of being able to do anything that would earn a respectable living?
What Helene had suggested, too, was unthinkable. An elopement. He groaned again. “My poor, little love, what choice do you have? A lifetime with a cripple or a lifetime with a notorious rake.”
He stopped his pacing as he thought of the man who had befriended him when he had first arrived in Paris. Robert Longford. A man of action who would brook no interference with his life. If he were to find himself in a similar situation, Nicholas thought, how would he act? The answer was obvious and Nicholas knew it. The captain would not countenance any man taking what he considered his.
“No more than I can,” Nicholas said to the empty room. “And Juliet belongs to me.”
The indecision that had rocked him all week vanished, and he strode to the door with, a determined step. “James, James,” he shouted to his man. “Hurry in here, we are going back to England.”
James came running at the command, a lopsided grin on his leathery face. “’Ome, sir? Do you really mean it?”
“Yes, James,” Nicholas laughed, the doubt and uncertainty of the past year slipping from him. “At least for a month. I’m going home to get married.”
“That bit o’news warms the very cockles of me ’eart,” James responded. “And who would the lucky lady be? Miss Juliet?”
“How did you guess, James?” Nicholas said in mock astonishment. “Do you think she will accept me?”
“Of course she will, Master Nicholas. As sure as my name is James Barlow. Now, if you will excuse me, I better get busy with the packing.”
“She could marry an earl, you know, James, and if her father refuses to accept my offer, we will have to elope.”
“No matter,” James said stoically. “We’ll manage somehow.”
The assumption his manservant made, that he would be included in any future adventure, warmed Nicholas. “You wouldn’t mind leaving England again, if necessary, James?”
“Not if that is what ’as to ’appen. I mean I couldn’t leave you now, could I? Who else would look after you as well as me.” It was a statement rather than a question, for both men knew that James would follow Nicholas, no matter where he went.
“Can we be ready to leave in an hour?” Nicholas asked.
“’Alf an ’our, Master Nicholas, if I ’urry.” He left the room hastily, bestowing a withering look on Natasha, who was hovering in the hallway.
“Nicholas, mon cher,” she said, closing the door quietly behind her. “What ees this, I hear over? You depart so soon? What ’appens to our picture?” She glanced over to the easel at the almost completed canvas. “Only another day and it will be fini, n’est-ce pas?”
“Listening at keyholes is a nasty habit you have, Natasha.” Nicholas said airily. “But, in this instance I will forgive you, as I hope you will forgive me for not buying you lunch today.”
“So it ees true, what I ’ear. You go to be married. It is sudden, no?”
“No, Natasha, my dear, only delayed. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go, for I have a lot to do before I leave.” He stopped as he saw the forlorn expression on her face. “There, there, Natasha. You will miss me for all of a day, if that. The count is waiting in the wings with ill-concealed patience to mold your lines in clay.”
“Swen!” Natasha scoffed. “’Ee is incapable of doing me justice.” She paused and looked at Nicholas coquettishly. “Now, if you were to persuade Robert to return, I would forgive you.”
“You won’t have to wait long then, for I heard that the captain will be in Paris next week. When I see him I will tell him that you await him eagerly.”
“Bon!” Natasha said prettily as she tied the strings of her bonnet. “And tell ’im ’ow well I looked after you. ’Ee will be pleased with me, non?”
“Indeed you have, and thank you, Natasha.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “You and Robert between you have succeeded in restoring my faith in myself, and for that I shall always be in your debt.”
“Bah! You are a ’andsome boy, Nicholas, and missing an arm makes you more mysterious and attractive. I like you and I ’ope this Juliet ees good to you.” She reached up on her toes and kissed Nicholas warmly, pressing her body to his. “But you will miss me just un petit peu, non?” she whispered as she wound her arms about his neck.
Nicholas held her for a second with his arm before disengaging himself from her embrace. “I shall always remember you with affection, Natasha,” he said truthfully. “Always.”
Long after Natasha had gone, the heavy perfume she always used still filled the air, which prompted James to open the windows wide. “Never could abide those cloying smells,” he muttered much to Nicholas’ amusement. “Strikes me as ’ow it must be bad for the lungs.”
7
THE lending library, normally a warm refuge for Helene, seemed confining today. Even the librarian, a pale-faced, round-shouldered individual made her feel uncomfortable. She pulled out a book at random and stared down blindly at the title page. It was over a week now since she had written to Nicholas. A week in which she had heard nothing. She had been so certain he would respond immediately; she had not even thought of another way to save Juliet. The gypsy’s words came back to her, and she shook herself angrily. The reading had been nonsense, and she must put it from her mind.
But what if Nicholas refused to rescue Juliet? Then the old woman’s prediction would come true and she would have to find another way to help her friend. How could Nicholas allow the earl to succeed, she thought angrily. A man with the earl’s reputation would crush Juliet inside of a month. She closed the book with a snap and replaced it on the shelf. There was only one thing she could do and that was a step she hesitated to take. Captain Longford was the man to persuade Nicholas to return. Indeed, he was the only person who could influence Nicholas, as Sir Walter had told her confidentially the last time she had seen him.
It was going to be awkward to approach the captain, though, for they had parted last night after an argument, and of all things about her visit to the gypsy. His teasing had angered her as much as her refusal to discuss her reading had annoyed him. She knew her reluctance to talk about it stemmed from the fact that the gypsy’s words bothered her, even though she tried to convince herself they were rubbish. Still, it was peculiar the way he had kept pressing her.
