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‘I see.’ There was a moment’s silence during which all that could be heard was the ticking of the mantel clock. Then Mrs Guarding nodded. ‘It would be foolish of me to pretend an ignorance of what goes on in the world, Helen. You would not be the first woman to be unjustly put upon, and I sympathise with you for what you had to endure. I take it Mr Brandon did not realise what was happening at the time?’
‘No. I am quite sure he believed he was witnessing a mutually agreeable embrace. He said nothing, but he left the room very quickly.’
‘And you have not seen him since?’
‘No. I left Lord Talbot’s employ the very next day.’
Mrs Guarding laced her fingers together on the desk in front of her. ‘Well, I think we need say no more about it. I apologise if my question seemed intrusive, but for the good of the school, I had to ask.’
‘I understand.’
‘My other reason for inviting you here was to inform you of Mr Brandon’s concerns with regard to his ward.’
Helen frowned. ‘Concerns?’
‘Yes. It seems Miss Gresham has been keeping company with a gentleman by the name of Sidney Wymington. Mr Brandon is not happy with her choice of companion and has sent her here to place her beyond Mr Wymington’s reach.’
Helen glanced at the headmistress in confusion. ‘But if he has sent her here for that reason, why is he still concerned?’
‘Because he is of the opinion that Mr Wymington may try to get in touch with Miss Gresham here. As such, he has asked me to advise my staff that she is not to receive letters from the gentleman, nor to entertain him here. She is also not to leave the school grounds unescorted.’
At the headmistress’s words, Helen felt a mixture of anger and resentment kindle in her breast. Why did men always feel they had the right to meddle in other people’s lives? Especially those of their wives or daughters? Oliver Brandon was interfering in his ward’s life in exactly the same way her own father had meddled in hers; an interference which had cost Helen the love of the man she had dearly hoped to marry. Why was everyone so willing to accept such high-handed treatment?
‘Do you agree with what he is asking you to do?’ she asked stiffly.
Mrs Guarding picked up her teacup and raised it to her lips. ‘It is not for me to agree or disagree, Helen. Mr Brandon’s ward is my pupil; therefore, I have no choice but to act in accordance with his instructions. He has made me aware of certain facts and I must now do whatever I can to ensure that Miss Gresham and Mr Wymington do not meet.’
‘But what if he is wrong about the gentleman?’ Helen felt compelled to ask. ‘What if Mr Wymington is a perfectly amiable man who loves Miss Gresham and who has the best of intentions at heart?’
‘That possibility certainly exists, but it is not up to you or me to make it known to Mr Brandon. He has paid his ward’s tuition in full and has also made a most generous donation of books. I am in no position to challenge him about what he does and does not feel is right for his ward.’
‘But he is interfering in a young girl’s life!’
‘A young girl who is legally in his care,’ the headmistress reminded her. ‘As such, one who must be expected to abide by his decisions. I do hope I have your co-operation in this, Helen. I cannot have individual members of my staff acting of their own volition in matters such as these.’
Helen bit back the words she longed to speak and vented her frustration in a sigh. She knew there was only one answer she could give. Whatever her own feelings in the matter, they could have no place here. For the good of the school, she had to comply with Mrs Guarding’s wishes. But not for the first time in her life, the rules by which she was forced to live sat ill upon her conscience. ‘Yes, of course you have my co-operation.’
Mrs Guarding looked considerably relieved. ‘Thank you. I know you have strong feelings in the matter, my dear, but we really have no choice. If we do not do as Mr Brandon asks, he will simply remove his ward and demand a refund of the tuition he has already paid. And then we shall be in forfeit of both his good opinion and his funding.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Helen murmured reluctantly. ‘But it does not make me any the happier for knowing.’
‘We must do the best we can.’ Mrs Guarding smiled. ‘Thank you too for telling me the truth about the manner of your first introduction to Mr Brandon.’
‘Why would I not?’
‘Because it is not always easy to tell people about things we are ashamed of, especially if they happened in our distant past. And it takes even more courage to admit them to me.’
Somewhat reluctantly, Helen began to smile. ‘I had no idea what Mr Brandon might have told you. In the event he told you what he remembered seeing all those years ago, I thought it would be in both of our interests to tell you what really happened.’
‘And that is why we need say no more about it.’ Mrs Guarding raised the teacup to her lips again. ‘As far as I am concerned, the matter is closed.’
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