<div align="center"><strong>Helena makes her way to the Tea Room</strong><br/><em>Brighton, Sunday May 20th 1888</em> </div><hr/><br/><div align="center">(http://www.paranormaldatabase.com/gallery/images/sus1855.jpg)</div><br/>Helena made her way down Bond Street, dressed today in one of her most cheerful dresses, dark blue rather than black, a neat little straw bonnet on her head and white gloves on her hands. Should anyone ask, she’d been to church (she had been), walked the pier, admired the Royal Palace, visited the Art Gallery - not far from here, maybe she could visit it after – but really, she was only in Brighton for one reason, to meet a gentleman. And without a chaperone! Despite the audacity of that, despite wanting to keep it a secret, she was quite looking forward to it. Finally! Someone to talk to who wasn’t child or house-servant or the strange new mistress. Someone who understood, judging from his letter, just how troubled she was. And a nice someone too… Well, she thought he was. After all that brandy her memory of that night in the kitchen was rather hazy. Almost certainly nice. And good looking, with a bit of a naughty glint in his eyes, or so the maids had told her in appreciative tones that had made her blush.<br/><br/>She paused as she reached the Theatre Royal, that famous establishment where some of the finest actors took the stage. She couldn’t resist looking over the program, wishing there was some way she might visit – not on her wages - before turning to look across the street. There it was, the tea room where she was supposed to meet Cooper. A white door and large windows, just as his letter had said. She waited on the sidewalk, allowing a cab to rattle on by, then crossed the street.<br/><br/>She opened the door to the tea room, causing a little bell to tinkle and announce her arrival, and stepped inside.