Helena read the letter with such concentration that Thomas finally asked whether she intended to set it on fire through the power of her stare. Instead she borrowed a horse, rode nine miles through spring rain, and delivered a second letter to the earl's housekeeper. It stated that she would not depart until someone acknowledged that the man demanding their home was also the man who had accused her father. The housekeeper, Mrs. Bramwell, was an elderly woman with silver hair and a voice that suggested she had endured generations of aristocratic foolishness. She read the letter slowly. Then she looked at Helena, not unkindly, and said, "Your father once repaired my son's roof when my son could not pay a shilling. I have not forgotten."
Mrs. Bramwell could not show her private documents. She did, however, tell Helena about a gathering to be held at Larchmere House in June, a charitable garden party with music, refreshments, and a fencing exhibition organized by several fashionable young gentlemen. Many county families would attend, as would Sir Edmund. "His lordship will be obliged to appear," she said. "And while I cannot promise you a private audience, Miss Vale, I can see that your name is on the list of guests."
On the morning of the garden party, Thomas stopped her at the cottage gate. "You need not do this alone," he said. He was fifteen, tall for his age, with their father's serious eyes and an ink stain on his thumb from the bindery. Helena told him to remain with their mother. He shook his head. "I know what people say about Father. I also know he would never have taken coal from a widow's fire. Whatever happens, I want you to remember that somebody already believes you."
The garden party had been arranged with precise extravagance. White tents stretched across the lawn, servants carried lemonade past rose beds, and ladies in bright muslins stood beneath parasols, exchanging news with the pleasure of people who had never needed to wonder where next week's rent would come from. At the southern terrace, a small gathering had formed around a display of fencing weapons. Blunted foils lay on a velvet-covered table. The guests applauded as two young men performed a practiced exchange, their steps quick and graceful on the paving stones. Every gentleman within hearing distance described it as a demonstration of courage.