Page 63 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

She took it to the window. A shaft of sunlight filtered in through the glass. Still standing, she broke the seal, spread the paper open in her hands, and began to read.

My dearest Helena,

This evening I met your Mr. Thornhill. We didn’t get on at all. Nevertheless, he’s promised I shall see you again when the rains cease. Do the rains ever cease in Devon? Perhaps it’s all a ploy to silence my unruly tongue. No matter. Mr. Finchley says that if Thornhill should prove disagreeable, he will bring me to you himself.

I’ve so much to tell you and no time in which to write it all down. Your new husband won’t wait on a longer letter. He’s impatient to see you again. Does this mean what I think it means? If so, you’ll forgive me for gloating. Didn’t I tell you it would all come right?

With boundless affection,

Jenny

After washing and changing into a clean suit of clothes, Justin returned to Helena’s bedroom. Their bedroom. She was seated on the settee near the fireplace, her skirts settled all about her like a dusky pink cloud. She was still looking at Miss Holloway’s letter. He stood a moment in the door of the dressing room and watched her.

He didn’t know what Miss Holloway had written. He hoped it was something that would lift Helena’s spirits. When he’d seen her walking down the cliff road, her face had been pale, her eyes despairing. And when she’d thrown her arms around him in greeting, he’d felt a small portion of what she must have been feeling in his absence. She’d been alone. Afraid. Uncertain of him.

Justin’s fist clenched reflexively at his side. He’d handled things badly. And, quite probably, hurt her in the process. “I should have woke you before I left.”

Helena looked up, startled. “I beg your pardon?”

He crossed the room to join her on the settee. The tea tray was sitting on a low table near the fire. A swirling vapor of steam floated up from the spout of the teapot. “A note was inadequate,” he said. “I can see that now.”

Helena refolded Miss Holloway’s letter and set it aside. Her eyes found his. “Why didn’t you say something?”

He sank down beside her, half crushing her voluminous skirts against his leg. It was no use dissembling. “Because I knew if I woke you—if I saw how frightened you were—I wouldn’t be able to leave you.”

“Oh,” she said softly.

“Leaving you here was the safest thing to do. With the rainstorm and the road… It was the only way I could see Finchley.”

“And Jenny?”

“She happened to be there as well.”

“With Mr. Finchley?”

“Yes. Er…it’s rather a long story.”

Helena poured him a cup of tea. When she handed it to him, their fingers brushed. “I’m listening.”

He waited to speak until she’d poured a cup out for herself. “When your uncle discovered your absence, he confronted Miss Holloway. When she wouldn’t divulge your whereabouts, he fell into a rage, ransacking her rooms for some sign of where you’d gone.”

Helena’s face drained of color. “Did he hurt her?”

“No. But when he found the evidence he was looking for—”

“What evidence? There wasn’t any, I’m sure of it. We were exceedingly careful.”

“There was a letter,” Justin said. “Miss Holloway kept it in a locked drawer of her dressing table.”

Helena shook her head, unwilling to believe it. “There must be some mistake. I brought all of your letters with me.”

“Did you?” He filed that bit of information away to examine later. “But this wasn’t a letter I wrote to you. This was the letter Finchley wrote in reply to Miss Holloway’s initial inquiry about the advertisement. It mentions me by name. It also mentions North Devon and the King’s Arms.”

“Why in heaven would Jenny have kept that?”

“I didn’t ask,” Justin said.

Not that he didn’t have his suspicions.