‘Yes,’ Helen said promptly. ‘Of course I want her to stay. She cannot go home to —’
He held up his hand, stopping her mid-sentence. ‘Do not base your decision upon pity or friendship, Lady Helen. You are a Reclaimer now; you must think strategically. If you take Miss Cransdon as an aide, you will be responsible for her from that moment onwards: for her safety, her training and, because of her circumstances, her upkeep. You will be placing her in mortal peril for the rest of her life, and you will be held accountable by the Dark Days Club for her actions. Do you understand?’ His voice was implacable. ‘Do you even know if Miss Cransdon would want to take on such a dangerous role? Is she strong enough in both mind and body for such service? Can you be assured that she will be committed and useful to you and the Dark Days Club?’
Helen hesitated. How could she guarantee any of those things? Moreover, could she really ask Delia to shoulder such responsibility and danger?
‘What if I decided she was not suitable?’
The severity in his face softened a little. Almost sympathy, Helen thought, but not quite.
‘You and I are here to protect mankind from the Deceivers, Lady Helen. That is what you swore to do in the presence of Mr Pike, Mr Stokes and Mr Hammond. Sometimes we must make hard decisions for the good of mankind rather than the good of just one man or woman.’
‘But what would happen to Delia? Surely you would not dispatch her. An innocent girl.’
He frowned. ‘Of course not. She would be sent back to her parents. I suspect that their decision to incarcerate her would be expedited by the Home Office. Pike is very good at managing the concealment of the Dark Days Club.’
‘They would have her labelled a madwoman and locked away? That is despicable.’
‘So you would rather she was killed?’
She bristled at his sarcasm. ‘The high-handedness of it is reprehensible. This is a young woman’s life.’
‘It is, and you must take responsibility for your part in Miss Cransdon’s unfortunate situation.’ His face was stern again. ‘It is your own foolish actions that have caused it.’
‘My foolish actions?’
‘Your womanish need to comfort and pacify.’
In four outraged strides she was across the room and standing a step too close to him. Courtesy be hanged! ‘Womanish need? All I did was write a letter to reassure a friend that she was not mad.’
‘No, you wrote a letter that acknowledged the existence of the Deceivers.’ He jabbed the air with his forefinger. ‘You did it knowing full well that it was a stupid thing to do.’
Deep down she knew he was right. But his manner was obnoxious.
‘How can I know anything full well when you keep so much important information to yourself? I must always be guessing!’
He leaned forward, his face hard. ‘Perhaps if you used the intelligence that God gave you instead of relying upon sentimental impulses, I would trust you with more information.’
She drew in a furious breath. ‘It was my sentimental impulses that saved your life. By your logic I should have left you to die!’
Their angry eyes locked. The raw connection was no more than a second, but it blazed with pulsing heat. Helen felt herself sway forward. Dear heaven, it was as if a force were driving her towards him.
She saw the shock in his face too. Heard the sharp intake of breath as if he had been struck. He reached for her, his hand so close to cupping her cheek. But no; he turned on his heel and strode to the door.
‘Make your decision,’ he snapped over his shoulder.
Before she could gather breath to answer him, he was gone.
She stared at the closed door, hand pressed to her chest. Now she understood. He had not been circling her at all. He had been keeping his distance.
He left the house at once, not even stopping to take his leave from Lady Margaret and Mr Hammond. Helen, left alone in the drawing room, listened to his progress out of the front door and as far along the street as her Reclaimer hearing could reach. Even then, she stood for a few minutes more, trying to calm the pulse that drummed through her body to the ends of her fingers and toes.
At last composed, she ventured downstairs to find Delia and end her friend’s agonising wait. To Helen’s mind, there was no decision to be made. Delia could not be sent back to her parents or exposed to the malignant intentions of the Home Office; such ruthlessness was inconceivable. That left only one path: to tell her about the Deceivers and persuade her to join the Dark Days Club.
It was this last part that caused Helen some anxiety as she made her way to the morning room where her friend, Lady Margaret and Mr Hammond had retreated. What if Delia quailed at the idea of such a dangerous life?
She need not have worried. Although shocked, Delia neither flinched at the revelation that her suitor had been an otherwordly creature living in a stolen body, nor did she shrink from the invitation to step into a life that held as much peril as it did purpose.
‘You wish me to be your aide?’ Delia sat forward in her chair, both hands grasping the edge of the table that held one of Mr Wedgwood’s new fine china tea sets and an untouched fruit cake. ‘You want me?’
Helen stopped pacing and caught sight of herself in the large mirror that graced the gaily painted yellow wall behind her friend. She looked almost as pale as Delia, the shock of her encounter with Lord Carlston still etched into her face. She averted her eyes from her pinched reflection and returned to her seat.
‘Yes. Just as Mr Hammond and Lady Margaret are aides to Lord Carlston.’
Across the table, Mr Hammond put down his delicately gilded teacup. Both he and Lady Margaret were frowning; clearly they had not expected this outcome.
‘You must think very carefully upon this, Miss Cransdon,’ he said. ‘It is a decision that will affect your entire life.’
‘I will, sir. I think I —’
‘Lady Helen,’ Lady Margaret interrupted. ‘Are you certain Lord Carlston approves of this … addition?’ A sideways glance at Delia punctuated her disapproval.
Helen clenched her teeth over a sharp retort. She had already twice confirmed his lordship’s knowledge of the matter. Still, she should not snap at Lady Margaret. The woman was providing her with a home and all earthly comforts until Helen’s brother made good on his promise of an allowance. Such largesse at least deserved gratitude and civility.
Gathering all the pleasantness she could muster, Helen said, ‘His lordship made it very clear it was my decision, Lady Margaret.’
‘It stands to reason, my dear,’ Mr Hammond said to his sister. ‘Lady Helen is now a sworn Reclaimer. She must have her own aides.’
‘She has had little more than a month’s training. How can she be responsible for an aide when she is barely responsible for herself? She is not ready.’