“I thought we might go on a drive. Would you please join me?” Silas wasn’t foolish enough to expect elation from her, but his heart sank at the narrowed look Helen gave him or how very long she stood there, considering the offer.
“I promise it will be just the two of us,” he added.
Still, Helen remained silent.
Clearing his throat, Silas leaned forward, so he was eye-to-eye with her. He tapped a rapid beat on his knee before adding, “I have an important visit to make, and I was hoping you would accompany me.”
“To see Mrs. Talley?” she asked with a frown.
“No—”
“Then Miss Stevenson?”
“I promise it has nothing to do with any unmarried female,” he said, tugging at his cravat. The girl seemed determined to make this as uncomfortable as possible, though he supposed he couldn’t blame her for it. However, there was a glint to her eye as she watched him—a tiny spark of curiosity—and Silas hoped the mystery of his errand might prove enough to secure her company.
A long, quiet moment, and Helen nodded. Silas did not wait for her to second guess herself, and he had her bundled up in a cloak and bonnet and seated on the phaeton’s bench in a trice. A quick flick of the reins, and they were off, though Silas wasn’t certain how to fill the silence that stretched out as the carriage rolled along the roads of Titchley.
“Are you enjoying some time away from your studies?” he asked.
Helen shook her head. “I wish Miss Delmonte were here.” There was only a brief pause before she asked, “Is she coming back?”
“Of course,” he replied, though with far more confidence than he felt. Silas was fairly certain Miss Delmonte would not send her notice while in Yorkshire, but a stirring of worry warned him the governess wouldn’t remain with his family for much longer.
Another moment of silence before Helen asked, “Then she didn’t leave because of Griffith?”
Silas’s hands jerked, and he sent the horses a silent apology as he relaxed his hold on the reins. “Miss Delmonte’s cousin-in-law is struggling and requires assistance. Her decision to leave had nothing to do with Griffith.”
Though the same could not be said of Silas. Miss Delmonte may have left regardless, but he would be a fool to ignore that her escape to Yorkshire was made so shortly after his attempted declaration.
Silas sighed and shifted in his seat, making note to speak with Griffith. Though Helen offered no more explanation for her question, Silas guessed the boy blamed himself for Miss Delmonte’s absence, though both of them had assured Griffith it had naught to do with the sketchbook.
Silence lingered, and Helen seemed no more inclined to speak than before. Though he prayed for something to spark a conversation, speaking of Miss Delmonte was an ill-advised subject at present. He needed something to draw Helen out, and if he was to practice his listening (as a certain lady counseled him to do), Silas needed his daughter to speak.
“What is it that fascinates you about shells?” he asked as the phaeton rocked with the bumps of the road, making the two of them sway, their shoulders knocking together.
Helen shrugged. “They are pretty.”
“Hogwash.”
She frowned, her brow furrowing.
“Not that they aren’t pretty,” he amended. “But one does not dedicate oneself to such rigorous study and identification simply because they’re lovely. There are many things you find equally beautiful, but they do not capture your attention to such a degree.”
Helen kept her face forward, though she slanted her gaze towards her father in a manner she likely thought subtle. Silas honored that desire for secrecy by pretending he did not notice, fixing his attention on the horses while holding onto an affable grin.
“You truly wish to know?” Helen’s question barely carried over the sounds of hooves and the rattle of the phaeton, but it was there, and Silas grinned all the more for it.
Turning that expression on his daughter, he leaned closer to her, nudging her with his shoulder. “I am desperate to know.”
Helen shifted in her seat, straightening her skirts before saying, “They are quite fascinating, don’t you think?”
Silas nodded, though she didn’t seem to notice it.
Her lips scrunched together as she considered that and added, “They are the outer protection of sea creatures, yet they are so intricate and delicate.”
Helen paused again, and Silas waited patiently, silently willing her to continue.
“They are quite amazing. All the different patterns and colors they produce. I once saw a drawing of a shell that was covered in long spines all along the ridges like a spiraling skeleton. And another that has a mix of a dozen colors in these wavy patterns as though someone had melted a rainbow.”
