“What is funny?” Thomas gave her a quizzical look.
“I have nothing suitable to be seen in London, cousin. My gowns mark me as the poor relation here; there, it will be assumed I am a servant attached to your household.” She gave him a direct look. “You know very well I am penniless, so what is your plan?”
“You and I will both need new wardrobes,” Thomas replied, apparently unconcerned. “Fashions are slightly different in London than New York, I believe, and I do not wish to appear the unlettered colonial. Aunt Clarice and Louisa are already making plans to order new gowns for themselves; all bills will be sent to me. I have no doubt that Aunt Clarice will be happy to advise you as to what you should order.”
Ellen did not feel nearly so certain of that, but once again, she supposed that she had little choice. Consider it an adventure, she told herself. How many times did you daydream of going to London, of seeing places you have only read about in books and newspapers?
“I must say that I am looking forward to seeing London very much,” Thomas said, unconsciously echoing her thoughts. “I have read so much about it!”
Ellen smiled at him. “So am I, Thomas. Tell me, what do you wish to see first?”
Chapter Six
*
Ellen could hardly believe the amount of baggage Lady Clarice seemed to think was necessary to remove the household to London for a few weeks. Trunk after trunk was packed and loaded onto a procession of baggage carts, despite both Clarice and Louisa continually discussing the entire new wardrobes they planned to order for themselves once they reached the city.
Thomas actually came out and said what Ellen was thinking, when he cast an appalled eye over the mountain of trunks already strapped to one of the carts.
“What are you planning to do with all these things, Aunt? You have enough clothes packed here to wear three different outfits every day in London; shall I take it then that you do not plan to visit the modistes after all?”
Clarice looked down her long nose at him and sniffed. “You know nothing about London fashions, Thomas, nor of what is required to ensure that our family remains in the first circles of society.”
“True,” Thomas admitted with a sigh. “Very well, Aunt Clarice. Do as you see fit.”
“I shall.” Turning her head away from him, she called “Careful with that bandbox, man! My favourite hat is in it!”
“Yes, your ladyship,” the hapless footman she was addressing replied.
“Come,” Ellen touched Thomas’s arm. “Will you walk with me, Cousin?”
“Indeed, I believe a walk would be just the thing right now.” Thomas shook his head. “All this… I packed my clothes and moved continents on a few days’ notice, with no expectation of ever returning to my old home. Everything I absolutely, positively could not live without fit into just two trunks.”
Ellen said nothing as they walked along one of the curving paths that led through the Hall’s famous rose garden. All her belongings, treasured or otherwise, hadn’t filled the single trunk she had borrowed from Demelza to transport them to the Hall. She could not ever imagine owning as many beautiful gowns as Louisa and Clarice possessed, never mind desiring any more.
“Are you looking forward to London?” Thomas asked. “To having some new gowns and meeting new people?”
“I do not particularly care for new gowns,” Ellen said, “though Lady Havers insists that I must have them, and I will accept her advice on the matter. I would not for the world bring shame upon the family, even though I am in truth a poor relation.”
“You are not a poor relation,” Thomas said firmly. “You are one of the only living members of the Havers family.”
“The poorest one.”
“For now.” He smiled mysteriously and would say no more, even when Ellen pressed him. They had become quite friendly in the few days she had resided at the Hall. It transpired that they both liked to rise early in the morning, and regularly encountered each other in the breakfast room. Thomas had surprised her on the very first day by asking if she would like to see the library; Ellen agreed eagerly and was delighted when he oh-so-casually pointed out a table in the large room and remarked that the newspapers were always left there once he had done perusing them.
“Allsopp has instructions not to dispose of them for seven days,” Thomas said, “just in case I should think of something I would wish to review, of course.”
“Of course,” Ellen echoed in wonder, looking around the library. She had never imagined that so many books could even exist, never mind be kept all in one room. There had to be thousands of volumes on the oaken shelves.
Following her gaze, Thomas said “It appears that the previous Earl was an inveterate reader. Much of the collection was added during his lifetime, I understand. You are welcome to borrow any book which takes your fancy, Ellen.”
He had no idea of the magnitude of the gift he had just given her, Ellen knew. She could not adequately express her gratitude, but she tried, stumbling over her words until Thomas took her hand in his and pressed his fingers on it lightly.
“Havers Hall is your home now, Ellen. This is your library as much as mine. You have no need to thank me.”
She knew he was wrong about that, but he would not hear her exclamations, only shaking his head and saying that he would leave her to look about at her leisure.
Every morning since then, they had breakfasted together and Thomas took the time to ask her what she was reading, and discuss it with her. He was well-read, Ellen had discovered; apparently he had attended the American university of Harvard, which Americans considered just as good as Oxford or Cambridge. Nor was he dismissive of her opinions just because of her gender, which was a first for her. Even her father had occasionally told her that she could not possibly understand something simply because she was female.
Ellen hoped that they would be able to continue their morning routine in London. “Does the London house have a library?” she thought to ask as she and Thomas turned about on their walk to return to the Hall.
“I should be very surprised if it does not, though perhaps it may not be quite as extensive as the one here at the Hall. Consider, though, the opportunities London offers for shopping! I have no doubt that there will be plenty of bookshops; if we find the library at the townhouse inadequate, we shall have plenty of opportunity to improve it.”
Ellen smiled at his enthusiasm. “You shall be too busy, surely, joining gentleman’s clubs and giving speeches in the House of Lords.”
“How shall I contribute sensibly in the House of Lords if I do not read the news and talk it over with you, Ellen?” Thomas laughed at her. “I am not too sure that English gentlemen will be interested in socialising with an uncouth American, besides.”
He was nervous, Ellen realised with incredulity. “Of course they will,” she said robustly, “all of the neighbouring gentry who have come to meet you have been very friendly.”
Havers Hall had been positively swarmed with everyone who could think of a good excuse to call, all eager to meet and curry favour with the new Earl. Thomas had insisted on presenting Ellen to everyone as well, even though many of them already knew her and looked askance at Thomas presenting her as his cousin, equally with Lady Louisa. None of them wanted to offend Thomas, though, so they were all polite, at least publicly, though she had seen a few sneers directed her way when Thomas’ attention was elsewhere.
“The baggage carts are ready to depart, my lord, with your approval,” Allsopp met them on their re-entry into the Hall.
“Of course, if everything my aunt wants has been packed,” Thomas nodded. The carts were being sent ahead so that everything would be already in London when they arrived; the family would not depart until the following morning and planned to spend two days travelling. Lady Clarice had already arranged for them to spend their nights with noble families who resided along their route; no roadside inns for the Havers family.
Ellen was not particularly looking forward to spen
ding two days in a carriage in company with Lady Clarice and Lady Louisa. Thomas had already announced his intention to ride his stallion for most of the journey, at least so long as the weather remained clement. Peering up at the sky as they entered the Hall, Ellen sent up a silent prayer for rain. Thomas’ presence in the carriage would make the journey a great deal more bearable. Clarice and Louisa did not criticise her directly, but she always felt as though she was being judged and found wanting when their cool blue eyes fell upon her.
On the other hand, sitting in the carriage watching Thomas and Louisa making calf eyes at each other didn’t appeal all that much, either.
She walked down to the village that afternoon to visit John and Demelza, to farewell them before her trip. A footman and her maid escorted her and waited to walk her back; despite Ellen’s laughing protests that she had been walking alone all over Haverford since she was let off leading strings, on this matter Thomas had sided with Lady Clarice, who threw up her hands in horror at the thought. So Ellen just did her best to pretend that the two servants weren’t there, walking ahead and humming softly under her breath, enjoying the crispness of the air on the pleasant September day.
“Ellen!” Demelza exclaimed over her with all her customary warmth, but her sharp eyes could see that something was bothering her younger friend. Deflecting her children with promises of cake in half an hour if they would play quietly until then, she drew Ellen into the parlour and closed the door. “Darling, what’s the matter?
Ellen tried to protest that everything was fine, but she crumbled under the pressure of Demelza’s genuine, gentle concern, and ended up confessing all her fears and worries about going to London.
“… and I just know that everyone will look at me and see me for the poor country cousin I am,” Ellen ran down finally, and Demelza rose and took her in a warm, comforting embrace.
“They will see you for the charming, caring, beautiful young woman that you are,” she reassured. “You will be a hit in London, Ellen; I don’t doubt that you will come back engaged to a duke or someone terribly important who has recognised you as a treasure beyond compare.”
Ellen laughed through the lump in her throat. “I don’t think I’d make a very good duchess.”
“You would be magnificent,” Demelza said loyally. “You will be magnificent. Promise that you will write and tell me all about it?”
“I shall write so often you will spend all your allowance on paying for the postage and write back begging me to stop.” Ellen had to hold back tears as Demelza hugged her close.
“Never,” Demelza promised. “John would never grudge me your letters, dearest. You shall write as much as you wish, and I will write back, though our dull lives will be of little interest.”
“Oh, never say so,” Ellen smiled through her teary eyes. “Your recounting of the boys’ antics will keep me greatly entertained, I am sure!”
A crash in the next room made them both wince. “Talking of which,” Demelza said with a sigh, “I knew it was too good to be true.”
“Come, they are eager for their cake, and you have reassured me.” Ellen smiled bravely, and her friend took her hand, squeezed it.
“You will be fine, dearest. Just be yourself, and you will soon make friends.”
Ellen could only hope Demelza was correct.
Chapter Seven
*
Demelza’s words came back to Ellen as she looked around the crowded ballroom, and she smiled ruefully. Her friend had never even been to London, had no idea of the ways of high society. Beauty, wealth and connections were the only coin the Ton recognised, and Ellen had none of the first two and little of the last. She had visited the fashionable modiste Lady Clarice patronised, allowed herself to be draped in silks and satins, measured and pinned for gowns more luxuriant than anything she had ever imagined. The first night wearing one of her new gowns, she had truly felt like a princess as she entered the ballroom just a step behind Louisa.
By the end of the night, the scales had well and truly fallen from her eyes. Thomas was the only man who had asked Ellen to dance while Louisa was constantly surrounded by a crowd of gentlemen three deep clamouring for her attention. None of them had given Ellen more than a second glance. This was the third ball she had attended as part of the Havers family, and she had still only ever danced duty dances with Thomas.
Sipping on a cup of punch she had been forced to ask a footman to procure for her, it occurred to Ellen that she was, in fact, a confirmed wallflower. Relegated to the fringes of the room where matrons sat on uncomfortable chairs and gossiped about the gathered throng, she might as well have been invisible.
With a quiet sigh, Ellen found a seat for herself. Her new dancing slippers pinched her toes and she was glad to sit down and ease her feet.
“Hello,” a friendly voice said, and she looked to her left, her eyes widening as she took in the beauty of the woman sitting beside her. Around the same age as Ellen herself, she guessed, the lady wore a gown in the first stare of fashion, a choker of impossibly large diamonds around her slender throat, a mass of red-gold curls artfully arranged atop her head.
“Er, hello,” Ellen stuttered, a little awe-struck by the lady’s beauty. Why in the world was someone who looked like that sitting alone at the side of the room engaging complete strangers in conversation? She should be on the dance floor, being fawned over by a horde of swains even larger than Louisa’s.
A handsome young gentleman paused in front of them, making the lady an impeccable bow. “Might I implore you for a dance, Lady Creighton?”
The lady’s smile vanished instantly. “Thank you, I do not care to dance,” she said, not meeting his eyes.
“May I fetch you something? A glass of punch?”
“I thank you, no.” Deliberately, Lady Creighton lifted her fan, snapped it open and turned her head to the side, looking at Ellen and hiding her face from the gentleman. He bowed, his expression melancholy, before backing away.
“Did you know him?” Ellen asked impulsively.
“Only slightly,” Lady Creighton said with a sigh, lowering her fan and checking that the gentleman had truly left them alone. Her foot was tapping along to the music, Ellen saw.
“But you did not wish to dance with him?” Curiosity roused, Ellen quite realised that she was being rude, but she couldn’t help herself.
“I am not permitted to dance with anyone except my husband,” Lady Creighton said with another sigh, “nor to converse with any gentleman when I am not in his presence.”
Ellen’s eyes widened with shock. “I… see,” she said at last, thinking that the lady’s husband must be very jealous.
“So I find events like this dreadfully tedious, since generally after the first dance my husband abandons me to my own devices and heads for the card room.”
The lady was lonely, Ellen realised. She offered her a friendly smile. “He does not object to your conversing with other ladies, though?”
“Fortunately, no. I am Marianne, by the way.”
“Ellen Bentley... Lady Creighton?”
“Countess of Creighton, for my sins.” Marianne’s smile was weary. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Bentley. You do not dance tonight?”
“I did dance,” Ellen said a little defensively. “The second dance, with my cousin, the Earl of Havers.”
“How nice.”
“…And since then, nobody has asked me,” Ellen confessed. “I’m a wallflower, I’m afraid.”
“Which is quite ridiculous, for you’re very pretty, and cousin to an Earl.”
“The poor relation, I’m afraid,” Ellen smiled, but she couldn’t quite hide her hurt. Thomas had promised, after all, that she would be treated equally to the rest of the Havers family. She could hardly blame him for the way other people treated her, though, and how was he to know? He was from America, and no more familiar with London society and its unspoken rules than she.
Marianne tilted her head curiously. “What differ
ence does that make?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Allow me to share a story with you,” Marianne said. “Once upon a time, there was a gentleman with an unfortunate habit of losing at the card tables. Without particular connections of his own, he had entrée into the higher circles of society through his wife’s family.”
Spellbound and wondering who the gentleman in the story was, Ellen listened in silence.
“One day, the gentleman sat down to a game of cards at his club which was particularly ill-fated. By the end of it, he had lost every possession he ever owned and his opponents held notes of debt he could never hope to meet. He was a pauper. Desperate, he approached the only connection he had who might offer him aid in his time of need; his late wife’s distant cousin, the Earl of Creighton.” Marianne’s lovely face was emotionless as she continued. “The gentleman had only one thing left to offer the Earl; his eighteen-year-old daughter, accounted a very pretty girl by all who saw her. Indeed, her first London season was turning out a smashing success. Miss Abingdon was courted by quite a number of eligible gentlemen, all of whom were willing to overlook her lack of dowry and her father’s well-known habits. Their suits all came to naught, however, when Mr Abingdon accepted the Earl of Creighton’s offer for her.”
Marianne’s expression was remote as she finished her little story. Ellen did not quite know what to say. Miss Abingdon was evidently Marianne herself.
“So, you see,” Marianne said after a few moments of silence, “wealth and connections are not required in order to catch a husband, even one among the wealthiest and most highly titled in the land. There are plenty of gentlemen out there with their own fortunes, in charge of their own destinies, and I cannot at all comprehend why some of them are not looking at you and seeing a lovely young woman who would make some lucky gentleman a fine wife.”
An Earl For Ellen (Blushing Brides Book 1) Page 5
