Relieved that Louisa was on his side, and pleased by her compassion and eagerness to meet Ellen, Thomas smiled happily at her. She returned her attention to her embroidery, a smile playing about her lips, becoming colour in her cheeks.
My God, she is so beautiful.
Lost in gazing at Louisa, Thomas barely noticed Clarice’s put-upon sigh, and her eventual remark of “Fine, then. If you must.”
*
Clarice’s reaction once Thomas had left the room was telling, however. She rose from her chair and stalked up and down, scowling. “I cannot believe he means to foist off this girl upon us!”
“He is American, Mama,” Louisa placidly set another stitch. “I understand they have very different ideas about the lower classes, indeed they do not seem to think that there are any lower classes.”
“Utter nonsense,” Clarice harrumphed. “There is a natural order to things. Bringing Miss Bentley to live here indeed! Whatever will he do next? The sooner he comes to his senses and marries you, the better.”
“These things cannot be rushed, Mama,” Louisa snipped a trailing end of thread neatly. “You told me that. Slowly, softly, so that he does not know he is in the trap until it is already closed. He is already sniffing about, ready to take the bait.”
“Must you speak in those crass hunting terms, Louisa? You sound positively bloodthirsty.” Clarice wrinkled her nose with distaste. “Be very sure that you do not allow Thomas to know you have a ruthless side until you have his ring upon your finger, my dear.”
“Never fear, Mama. I have things well in hand. Miss Bentley will be no obstacle to our plans, I assure you.”
Mollified and reassured by her daughter’s calmness, Clarice sighed and took a seat again. “Very well, dear. For your sake I shall try to pretend I am pleased by the girl’s presence.”
“I do not think that you need to go that far, Mama. Let me befriend her while you act as though you tolerate her merely because Thomas has ordered it. She will want a friend and she will soon be willing to do anything I ask, never fear.”
“And then what?”
“Why, then I find some suitor to marry her and take her off our hands.” Louisa shrugged. “Thomas can dower her with a few hundred pounds or so, and we will have minor squires crawling all over her in eagerness to be connected to the Havers family.”
“Hm.” Clarice looked thoughtful at that. “I suppose she might even be useful, that way. I shall have a think about who might be suitable.”
“As you say, Mama.” Louisa picked up her handiwork and resumed stitching, the very image of a well-bred lady filling her time.
*
For the second time in the space of a year Ellen found herself uprooted, but this time she was moving up in the world. She had never been closer to Haverford Hall than seeing it in the distance when walking up Wyck Beacon; the Earl had not exactly been the type to welcome the residents of the village to his home. It truly was quite magnificent, she thought as she walked up the avenue, Demelza beside her holding her hand, John slightly ahead of them.
Thomas had sent a baggage cart to collect her belongings and invited the Bledsloes to accompany her to tea, doubtless hoping that their presence might help ease her transition to residing at the Hall. He had stopped by almost every day during the previous week, assuring her that the countess and Lady Louisa were eager to welcome her to the Hall, asking when she could be ready to move. His enthusiasm was irresistible, and Ellen found herself quite excited about what the future might now hold for her.
As they approached the Hall, however, Ellen found herself holding tighter to Demelza’s hand.
“Just remember, you belong here,” Demelza said in an undertone as they walked up to the great doors. “You were named for Lady Eleanor, your great-grandmother, who was born under this very roof. You have every right to be here.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Ellen squeezed one more time before letting go of her friend’s hand. She would not be seen clinging on like a child to her nursemaid.
The door opened almost immediately upon John’s knock to reveal a formally-garbed, stern-faced butler. Ellen knew who he was, of course; the Allsopp family had been in Haverford as long as the noble family they served, and she had seen Allsopp in church on many occasions.
“Good afternoon, Mr Bledsloe, Mrs Bledsloe,” Allsopp intoned, and then to Ellen’s surprise, he bowed to her. “A very great pleasure to have you here at last, Miss Bentley.”
Was Allsopp smiling? Stunned, Ellen mumbled something unintelligible in response. She hadn’t even thought the poker-faced butler knew how to smile.
“The family are gathered in the Oriental sitting-room,” Allsopp informed them. “Please, allow me to escort you there.”
Another shock; Ellen would have thought that task might be delegated to a footman, but apparently they—she—was considered a significant enough guest to merit Allsopp’s personal attention.
Thomas fairly leaped to his feet as the party entered the sitting-room, beaming a smile. “Here you are!”
“Havers.” Bledsloe shook his hand in greeting, bowed formally to the countess and Lady Louisa, who were rising to their feet. “Lady Havers, Lady Louisa.”
“Mr Bledsloe.” Clarice nodded regally at him. “I do not recall that your wife has ever been presented to me.”
Demelza was not in the least overawed. “We have seen each other many times in church, your ladyship,” she said rather dryly, dipping into a curtsy that was just barely low enough to show respect to a peeress.
Clarice’s smile looked as though it had been painted on, but she said nothing else as John presented Demelza to her and Louisa. Louisa at least seemed more friendly, saying;
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs Bledsloe.”
“As it is yours, Lady Louisa.”
Ellen hung back, biting on her lip, but Thomas would have none of it. Seizing her hand, he placed it on his arm and led her forward.
“I know you will wish to join me in welcoming Ellen to our home, Aunt.”
“Of course.” Clarice inclined her head graciously. “Though, Thomas dear, you really must remember to call her Miss Bentley when we are in company. Really, are all Americans so informal?”
“Most of them are considerably less formal than I, Aunt Clarice,” Thomas replied with a chuckle. “Consider the advantages, though; any error in address I may make will not reflect badly upon you. Indeed, you can commiserate with the offended party while informing them that I am merely an ignorant American!”
There was a distinct bite to his words; Clarice, far from accepting the rebuke, merely sniffed. “You are an Earl. The number of those who could rightfully be offended by any informality in your address are few in number. I was merely thinking of Miss Bentley’s reputation. Over-familiarity in address must be avoided for her sake, lest assumptions be made.”
Louisa tittered behind her hand, and Thomas, who had been about to ask what kind of assumptions Clarice could mean, closed his mouth. A young lady’s reputation was all-important, and in England the rules of etiquette were even stricter than in America, he had already worked that out.
“Yes, Aunt Clarice,” he said penitently at last.
Ellen had not said a word since entering the room. She took advantage of the silence that fell now to curtsy and say;
“I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Your Ladyship.”
Clarice inclined her head regally, before tilting her head to the side and considering Ellen thoughtfully. “You have the Havers colouring. And the Havers nose.”
Ellen’s hand rose instinctively to touch the feature remarked upon, before she lowered it again. “So I have been told.”
“I have only seen a portrait of your great-grandmother Lady Eleanor as a child,” Thomas put in, “but perhaps there is a picture of her in later life, somewhere in the collection?”
“You are quite correct, cousin,” Louisa said, smiling sweetly at Ellen. “It is in the music room on the ground floor. Co
usin Ellen, I must say that you resemble her quite strongly.”
Ellen smiled back, relieved that the other girl seemed disposed to be friendly. “I should be pleased to see it, if you would care to show me, Lady Louisa.”
“Not right now, dear, we are going to have tea. Sit here by me, if you please,” Clarice said, her tone making it clear that she was giving an order. Thomas frowned at his aunt, but Ellen made no objection, merely taking the indicated seat with a smile on her face and every indication of being honoured at Clarice showing her attention.
“How are you enjoying Gloucestershire, my lord?” Demelza enquired then. “You are aware, perhaps, that the Cotswolds are considered one of the greatest beauties of England? Is there anything to compare to them in America?”
Thomas smiled, turning to her. “The area is indeed very beautiful, and quite different to what I am used to. America is vast and very diverse in landscape, though I regret to say I have travelled very little. I did go once with my grandfather to see the great waterfall at Niagara, which was quite the most spectacular sight I have ever seen.”
“I saw a drawing of the falls once,” Ellen said surprisingly. “Is it not where Bonaparte’s brother honeymooned with his first wife?”
Everyone in the room stared at her. Ellen’s cheeks coloured. “Sometimes Papa used to show me the newspapers and discuss things with me,” she mumbled.
“Ladies of quality do not read the newspapers, dear,” Clarice said patronisingly. Thomas saw Ellen’s eyes flash with rebellion for an instant before she lowered them to her hands, clasped in her lap. He immediately made a silent promise to himself to see to it that Ellen had the opportunity to peruse the newspapers whenever she wished, and to discuss them with him, too. She probably had a far greater understanding of current affairs in England then he did.
“Is it true that mountains of ice float in the ocean?” Demelza changed the subject gracefully.
“I have heard so, but did not see them on my voyage to England. Of course, I was lucky enough to be making the crossing at the height of summer; winter crossings are much more perilous, I understand,” Thomas turned to her with a smile.
Chapter Five
*
After the tea, at which Thomas and Demelza carried the conversation with little input from the others, John and Demelza took their leave and Clarice summoned a maid to show Ellen to her room while Thomas escorted John and Demelza out.
“Susan will be your personal maid, Miss Bentley,” Clarice said, gesturing to the girl sunk in so low a curtsy her knees almost touched the floor. “She has been well trained as a lady’s maid. I trust you will find her to your satisfaction.”
“I had not expected such generosity as to have a maid assigned to me at all, my lady,” Ellen said. “Indeed, it is entirely unnecessary. I am quite accustomed to making shift for myself.”
Louisa tittered a little behind her hand; Clarice merely elevated her head a little higher. “That would be quite unsuitable,” was all she said, and the conversation was at an end.
Haverford Hall was a maze, Ellen discovered as she followed Susan along apparently interminable corridors. She knew that the Hall had been built in several stages, the earliest part dating back to the fourteenth century and subsequent owners adding onto it until it reached its present size.
“I believe I may need a map, Susan,” she said in an attempt at humour as they finally reached her new room. Or rooms, as she soon discovered when Susan opened the door to show her inside; she had a private sitting-room, a dressing-room and a bedroom beyond that.
“You’ll soon find your way about, Miss Bentley,” Susan said shyly. “Besides, I’ve a bed in your dressing-room; I can take you anywhere you want to go until you have your bearings.”
Grateful for the consideration, Ellen nodded. Susan had already unpacked her belongings, she could see; hung her few gowns in one of the closets. They looked meagre and pathetic in the large space, and that was only one of the closets.
A knock on the door to the sitting-room made Ellen turn; she was half-way over to open it herself when Susan rushed past her, wide-eyed with panic.
“Oh no, Miss Bentley, you must let me get that!”
Apparently, she was not supposed to do anything for herself. Ellen found herself wondering just what exactly she was supposed to do as Susan opened the door to reveal Thomas standing outside.
“Do you like the rooms?” Thomas asked as soon as Susan admitted him. “I think Aunt Clarice would have put you up in the attics with the kitchen-maids if she could, but Louisa suggested this guest suite. They call it the Yellow Room.”
Ellen could see why; the furniture was all upholstered in a soft shade of golden yellow, which matched the fittings on the bed. Fortunately, whoever had selected the decorations had an eye for subtlety and had not gone too overboard with the colour.
“They are very pretty rooms, I thank you,” she said honestly. “Far grander than what I was expecting. I do not doubt that even the servants’ rooms in the attics are quite comfortable.”
“Not so much as I would like,” Thomas said unexpectedly. “I inspected them this morning. I will not have my staff living in meagre conditions while I wallow in luxury; I will be ordering several new beds and chairs, and I intend to instruct the housekeeper to ensure that extra blankets are available for anybody who asks for them. I have been cold, New York is bitter in the wintertime, and I would not have anyone suffer that if I can prevent it.”
Susan gave Thomas a look that was near-worshipful. “That is very good of you, my lord,” she said timidly. “I shared one of those rooms with my sister Agnes until her ladyship said I was to move in here and do for Miss Bentley. I was right worried about her being cold this winter.”
“Nobody at Haverford Hall will go cold this winter, and that is a promise,” Thomas said firmly. “Nor in Haverford village, if I have my way. Ellen, it strikes me that as the vicar’s daughter you very likely know all the residents and their needs far better than my aunt does.”
“I doubt Lady Havers knows anyone with any needs,” Ellen said unguardedly, before clapping a hand over her mouth. “I beg your pardon. I should not have said that,” she mumbled through her fingers, her cheeks bright red.
“Why not? It’s almost certainly true. Aunt Clarice does her very best to only associate with the upper echelons of society; I have known her barely a week and that much is quite obvious. Neither she nor Lady Louisa have ever visited the tenants, charitably or otherwise, I understand from the housekeeper, and I have to say that I do not approve. It does not fit with the stories Gramps used to tell me about the responsibilities of the earldom; he told me he regularly used to escort his mother and his sister about on their visits.”
“I should like to hear about that,” Ellen said eagerly. She glanced at Susan, who took her cue.
“Could I ring for some refreshments for you, Miss Bentley, m’lord?”
“We just had tea, thank you… what is your name?”
“Susan, m’lord,” she gave him a deeply respectful curtsy.
“Perhaps you might just sit over there by the door, which we shall leave open? To give Lord Havers and myself countenance if anyone should happen by,” Ellen suggested, saw Thomas’ puzzled frown. “We cannot speak in private in a room with a closed door,” she advised him gently. “Even though we are cousins and I am technically your ward.”
“I see.”
She wasn’t sure that he did. Considering what she suspected of Lady Louisa’s motives towards him, she wasn’t too sure that his aunt and his other cousin could be relied upon to ensure he understood all the rules of polite society, either.
“You would escape censure, but my reputation could be irretrievably damaged,” Ellen warned. “You should never allow yourself to be alone with any unmarried female, Thomas, lest you find yourself confronted by an angry father bound and determined on making you marry her. I don’t have one of those,” her smile was sad, “so I would just be ruined. As relations we h
ave a little more leeway than most, but you should bear in mind that there are plenty of ladies who would seek to entrap you into marriage. You are wealthy, titled, young and handsome. Avoid being alone anywhere.”
“Lest a young lady suddenly join me, and we be found together mere moments later by an enraged father?” Thomas understood what Ellen was getting at. Shaking his head at the idea of such manipulation, he smiled suddenly. “You and I shall have to shield each other; you can protect me from marriage-minded misses and I can protect you from the young men who will no doubt swarm about you!”
Ellen blinked. “What young men?”
“When we go to London, of course.”
“London?” She stared at him in incredulity. “What do you mean, when we go to London?”
Thomas opened and closed his mouth several times, finally taking on a rather sheepish expression. “In all the kerfuffle of getting you moved here, I have just realized that I have neglected to apprise you of the plans my aunt has been making,” he said. “The Little Season is under way at the present time, and she thinks that now would be a good time for me to get my feet wet in the deep waters of London society. The household will remove to the Havers townhouse in Belgravia in ten days’ time.”
Ellen was silent for a little while, considering. It was clear that her options were limited; she supposed that if she made enough fuss, she might be permitted to stay with John and Demelza while the others went to London, but if she were being honest, she had always dreamed of seeing the capital.
“We are still in mourning,” she said at last.
“True, but it has been more than half a year. Aunt Clarice and Louisa have set aside their blacks and greys for violet and lavender; you could do the same.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “You would look charming in lavender.”
She laughed, thinking of the contents of her wardrobe. Every dress she had was one that she had made over, either from one of her mother’s or one of her own. Most of them were black, dyed from their original colours when she entered mourning. The others were carefully saved awaiting the day when she would put it off. There was nothing lavender or violet among them. Nor could she borrow anything from Louisa or Lady Havers, even if they would lend it to her; she was taller by a handsbreath than either of them, and any of their gowns on her would show far too much ankle.
An Earl For Ellen (Blushing Brides Book 1) Page 4
