Chapter: One speaks of the moods of spring, but the days that are her true
children have only one mood; they are all full of the rising and
dropping of winds, and the whistling of birds. New flowers may come out,
the green embroidery of the hedges increase, but the same heaven broods
overhead, soft, thick, and blue, the same figures, seen and unseen, are
wandering by coppice and meadow. The morning that Margaret had spent
with Miss Avery, and the afternoon she set out to entrap Helen, were the
scales of a single balance. Time might never have moved, rain never
have fallen, and man alone, with his schemes and ailments, was troubling
Nature until he saw her through a veil of tears.

She protested no more. Whether Henry was right or wrong, he was most
kind, and she knew of no other standard by which to judge him. She
must trust him absolutely. As soon as he had taken up a business, his
obtuseness vanished. He profited by the slightest indications, and the
capture of Helen promised to be staged as deftly as the marriage of
Evie.

They went down in the morning as arranged, and he discovered that their
victim was actually in Hilton. On his arrival he called at all
the livery-stables in the village, and had a few minutes' serious
conversation with the proprietors. What he said, Margaret did not
know--perhaps not the truth; but news arrived after lunch that a lady
had come by the London train, and had taken a fly to Howards End.

"She was bound to drive," said Henry. "There will be her books."

"I cannot make it out," said Margaret for the hundredth time.

"Finish your coffee, dear. We must be off."

"Yes, Margaret, you know you must take plenty," said Dolly.

Margaret tried, but suddenly lifted her hand to her eyes. Dolly stole
glances at her father-in-law which he did not answer. In the silence the
motor came round to the door.

"You're not fit for it," he said anxiously. "Let me go alone. I know
exactly what to do."

"Oh yes, I am fit," said Margaret, uncovering her face. "Only most
frightfully worried. I cannot feel that Helen is really alive. Her
letters and telegrams seem to have come from some one else. Her voice
isn't in them. I don't believe your driver really saw her at the
station. I wish I'd never mentioned it. I know that Charles is vexed.
Yes, he is--" She seized Dolly's hand and kissed it. "There, Dolly will
forgive me. There. Now we'll be off."

Henry had been looking at her closely. He did not like this breakdown.

"Don't you want to tidy yourself?" he asked.

"Have I time?"

"Yes, plenty."

She went to the lavatory by the front door, and as soon as the bolt
slipped, Mr. Wilcox said quietly:

"Dolly, I'm going without her."

Dolly's eyes lit up with vulgar excitement. She followed him on tiptoe
out to the car.

"Tell her I thought it best."

"Yes, Mr. Wilcox, I see."

"Say anything you like. All right."

The car started well, and with ordinary luck would have got away. But
Porgly-woggles, who was playing in the garden, chose this moment to sit
down in the middle of the path. Crane, in trying to pass him, ran one
wheel over a bed of wallflowers. Dolly screamed. Margaret, hearing the
noise, rushed out hatless, and was in time to jump on the footboard.
She said not a single word; he was only treating her as she had treated
Helen, and her rage at his dishonesty only helped to indicate what Helen
would feel against them. She thought, "I deserve it; I am punished for
lowering my colours." And she accepted his apologies with a calmness
that astonished him.

"I still consider you are not fit for it," he kept saying.

"Perhaps I was not at lunch. But the whole thing is spread clearly
before me now."

"I was meaning to act for the best."

"Just lend me your scarf, will you. This wind takes one's hair so."

"Certainly, dear girl. Are you all right now?"

"Look! My hands have stopped trembling."

"And have quite forgiven me? Then listen. Her cab should already have
arrived at Howards End. (We're a little late, but no matter.) Our first
move will be to send it down to wait at the farm, as, if possible, one
doesn't want a scene before servants. A certain gentleman"--he pointed
at Crane's back--"won't drive in, but will wait a little short of the
front gate, behind the laurels. Have you still the keys of the house?"

"Yes."

"Well, they aren't wanted. Do you remember how the house stands?"

"Yes."

"If we don't find her in the porch, we can stroll round into the garden.
Our object--"

Here they stopped to pick up the doctor.

"I was just saying to my wife, Mansbridge, that our main object is not
to frighten Miss Schlegel. The house, as you know, is my property, so it
should seem quite natural for us to be there. The trouble is evidently
nervous--wouldn't you say so, Margaret?"

The doctor, a very young man, began to ask questions about Helen. Was
she normal? Was there anything congenital or hereditary? Had anything
occurred that was likely to alienate her from her family?

"Nothing," answered Margaret, wondering what would have happened if she
had added: "Though she did resent my husband's immorality."

"She always was highly strung," pursued Henry, leaning back in the
car as it shot past the church. "A tendency to spiritualism and those
things, though nothing serious. Musical, literary, artistic, but I
should say normal--a very charming girl."

Margaret's anger and terror increased every moment. How dare these
men label her sister! What horrors lay ahead! What impertinences that
shelter under the name of science! The pack was turning on Helen, to
deny her human rights, and it seemed to Margaret that all Schlegels were
threatened with her. "Were they normal?" What a question to ask! And it
is always those who know nothing about human nature, who are bored by
psychology--and shocked by physiology, who ask it. However piteous her
sister's state, she knew that she must be on her side. They would be mad
together if the world chose to consider them so.

It was now five minutes past three. The car slowed down by the farm, in
the yard of which Miss Avery was standing. Henry asked her whether a cab
had gone past. She nodded, and the next moment they caught sight of it,
at the end of the lane. The car ran silently like a beast of prey. So
unsuspicious was Helen that she was sitting in the porch, with her back
to the road. She had come. Only her head and shoulders were visible. She
sat framed in the vine, and one of her hands played with the buds. The
wind ruffled her hair, the sun glorified it; she was as she had always
been.

Margaret was seated next to the door. Before her husband could prevent
her, she slipped out. She ran to the garden gate, which was shut, passed
through it, and deliberately pushed it in his face. The noise alarmed
Helen. Margaret saw her rise with an unfamiliar movement, and, rushing
into the porch, learnt the simple explanation of all their fears--her
sister was with child.

"Is the truant all right?" called Henry.

She had time to whisper: "Oh, my darling--" The keys of the house were
in her hand. She unlocked Howards End and thrust Helen into it. "Yes,
all right," she said, and stood with her back to the door.

 The fatal day arrives, and we find Mr. Wilcox and Margaret in Hilton with Dolly. Margaret is anxious, and Mr. Wilcox wants to go spring on Helen without her. Margaret runs to the washroom to gather herself, and Mr. Wilcox sneaks out without her, telling Dolly to make an excuse. The car starts on its way, but Dolly and Charles's little boy accidentally sits in the middle of the driveway, causing the chauffeur to swerve off course. Dolly screams, and Margaret comes running out. Margaret confronts Henry about his attempt to cut her out of the plan, and he apologizes. The apology is accepted, and they embark again. The car stops to pick up the doctor, and Henry emphasizes how important it is not to scare Helen. The doctor and Henry discuss Helen's case dispassionately, and Margaret is infuriated by the way they're busily labeling her character, as though she's not even human. Margaret is determined to be on Helen's side, since it's obvious that nobody else is. Helen is innocently waiting on the porch at Howards End. Margaret runs out of the car before Henry can stop her, and rushes to her sister. She discovers immediately why Helen has been avoiding everyone - she's pregnant. In a rush, Margaret unlocks the door and pushes Helen into the house, then calls out to Mr. Wilcox that everything is OK.

