by Joyce Alec
The minutes ticked by. George paced up and down, his frustration growing by the second. Lady Ellen was proving to be more elusive than he had anticipated.
He was just about to give up and return home when the door to the bookshop opened and a lady’s voice floated up toward him. George held his breath, a broad smile settling on his face, as he realized it was none other than his quarry, the lady he had been waiting for.
She did not come upstairs, however, but made her way to the other end of the shop, looking through the books with great care. As he slowly began to descend the stairs, he saw her maid waiting outside, her hands clasped in front of her and head bowed. Lady Ellen was almost entirely alone then, except for the bookshop owner and the other two ladies who were, at this point, now making their way to purchase the books in their hands.
He took the opportunity to slip down the stairs unnoticed, maneuvering himself quickly behind the two ladies and down to the other end of the bookshop, catching sight of Lady Ellen with her nose in a book. She had a light smile on her face, clearly lost in the story already.
“Do you intend to purchase that book?”
She jerked in surprise, her head shooting up to look at him – only for an expression of horror to cross her face as she stepped back.
“Please,” he continued, putting on as apologetic an air as possible. “Please do not run from me, Lady Ellen. I must apologize to you. I have been coming here every day in the hope of seeing you.”
She did not say anything, but to his relief, she did not turn and run from him.
“I have thought about what you said, and I have concluded that you were quite right to speak to me as you did,” he continued with a sorrowful look. “I ought not to have pressed my attentions on you.”
“No,” she said, standing a little straighter as she regained her composure. “You certainly should not have treated me in such a way, Lord Hartley. I find your manner utterly disgraceful.”
The flash of anger that burned in his soul was dampened immediately by nothing more than sheer force of will. “You are quite right, of course,” he said, with a short bow. “I have wanted to apologize for some time, Lady Ellen, but I expected that you would not allow me into your home to call on you, nor would you read any note from me. I would have spoken to you before now, but I have chosen to spend some time out of society, to give me adequate time to reflect.”
Lady Ellen eyed him suspiciously, her color heightened. “I have not seen you this last week,” she murmured, her gaze fixed. “I thought it was simply because you were busy taking your pleasures elsewhere. Bath, I presumed, given that most of London has been tainted by your presence.”
The bluntness of her words hit him like a slap in the face, and with a spiraling disappointment, George realized that Lady Ellen was not going to be as easily convinced as he had thought.
“Nonetheless, I find that I have little choice but to accept your apology,” Lady Ellen continued, with a brief, tight smile. “Along with the expectation that you will not treat me so again.”
He bowed again, hiding his frustration and anger in one sweeping bow that hid his face. “Of course, Lady Ellen,” he said calmly, raising his head. “Nothing more than respect and admiration, I assure you.”
“Very good,” she replied with a small, disdainful sniff. “As I said previously, Lord Hartley, I do not see any reason for us to continue with our acquaintance. Whilst I accept your apology, I am not interested in conversing with you, dancing with you, or any of the like.”
Frowning, George tried to appear upset and confused. “You will not allow me even a single dance, my lady? Not when I am trying my utmost to change my ways, to be the gentleman I ought to have always been?”
He saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes, and something in him began to rise in triumph. He was getting to her.
“I do not think it would be wise,” she replied eventually.
Not wanting to press the matter, George inclined his head, hoping that his expression remained sorrowful. “But of course. Regardless, I do not think I shall be entering society for another week or so. I have a great deal of thinking to do, and I cannot do it well when I am swept up in balls and the like.”
Lady Ellen tried to appear disinterested although her eyes flickered with interest.
“Might I purchase your book for you?” George asked, holding out his hand for it. “It would be my pleasure to do so. An addition to my apology of mere words.”
She hesitated for a moment, looking from his hand to his face and back again before, eventually, surrendering the book to him.
A small sigh of relief escaped him, but he covered it by looking down at the book with interest. “Poetry,” he murmured, glancing back up at her. “You enjoy such things?”
Lady Ellen nodded before turning to walk toward the front of the shop. “Yes, I do. Thank you, Lord Hartley.”
Feeling as though he had won some great victory, George followed after her, and with a smile, he placed the book on the counter and proceeded to pay for it.
“Thank you, Lady Ellen. I am grateful to you for accepting my apology,” he said, handing her the book. “You have done me a great honor.”
She took it from him, making sure not to touch his hand with her gloved one. “Thank you, Lord Hartley,” she said crisply. “Good day to you.”
“Good day,” he repeated with a slight bow as she left the shop, her skirts billowing about her. Their meeting was at an end, the apology given and accepted. All he had to do now was wait.
5
Ellen laughed aloud as Charlotte came toward her, her eyes shining. She and her mother had only just entered Lord Matthews’ home, and Charlotte, evidently, had been waiting to see her.
“Goodness!” she exclaimed, as Charlotte embraced her. “We have only been apart for two days, and yet it seems as though you have found the separation much worse than I.”
Charlotte laughed and shook her head. “It is only that I have the most wonderful news.”
“Oh?”
Charlotte smiled, her cheeks a little red. “Lord Withington came to speak to Papa only yesterday,” she said in a quieter tone. “He asked Papa if he might be allowed to court me!”
Ellen gasped, her hands at her mouth as she stared at her friend.
“I know, I am quite overcome,” Charlotte declared, her expression one of sheer joy. “Of course, Papa accepted.”
“Lord Withington?” Ellen repeated, wondering if she had heard his name correctly. “But you have only met him once.”
“Nay, not once,” Charlotte replied, with a slight frown as though Ellen’s happiness ought to match her own. “I have danced with him twice on two separate occasions, and he has called upon me once. He is a very amiable and handsome gentleman, and I am delighted to have his suit.”
Ellen, feeling as though she had said quite the wrong thing, gave her friend a warm smile. “I am very glad for you, Charlotte. I do hope he will come up to snuff for you.”
Charlotte’s beaming smile reappeared almost at once, her countenance ecstatic once again. “I am quite sure he will. Who would have thought I would have such a gentleman by my side so soon into the Season?”
“Indeed,” Ellen murmured, as she caught sight of Lord Hartley walking toward them. “That is truly wonderful news, Charlotte,” she continued, a little more firmly, as she dragged her eyes away from the man. “You must come and tell Mama.”
“Oh, of course!” Charlotte exclaimed, catching Ellen’s arm. “Where is she?”
The musical evening had not yet begun, although Ellen knew it would not be long before they were asked to take their seats. She did not, however, want to be caught up with Lord Hartley, although she had to admit that she had noticed his prolonged absence from society. He had been true to his word. He had told her in the bookshop that he intended to be out of society for a time, and thus far, he had been. Now, apparently, he was ready to return to it.
As Charlotte began to tell Ellen’s mother all about h
er delightful Lord Withington, Ellen could not help but wonder where Lord Hartley might be. She did not want to sit anywhere near him and certainly did not did not want to converse with him, even though he had been very apologetic for his previous behavior toward her. Whilst she had appreciated his apology and his purchase of her book, Ellen found that she was still entirely unsure of him. She could not even guess as to whether his apology had been a serious one, or whether his change in character was truly genuine. A rake was a gentleman well known for his nefarious character, his questionable methods in ensuring that any lady’s affections were soon directed toward him – and Ellen could not be sure that this was not simply another attempt to capture hers. She did not want to think highly of herself, however, not quite sure as to why he would do such a thing, but yet she was reminded of the anger in his expression when she had turned him down yet again.
But then again, she had to admit that his absence from society had been commented on by a great many people. She had, simply by listening to gossip, learned that he simply spent time out walking or in the great London library, as though by reading, he would better himself. She was not quite sure what to believe and was frustrated with her own inability to remove her thoughts from him entirely.
“Oh, look,” Charlotte exclaimed, catching Ellen’s hand. “We are to sit, I think. Lord Matthews is standing at the front of the room and beckoning us all.”
Ellen laughed at Charlotte’s eagerness and allowed Charlotte to lead her toward the row of chairs. It was only then she saw Lord Withington sitting down carefully, his eyes on Charlotte. Charlotte’s exuberance then became perfectly clear, and it came as no surprise that her friend soon ensconced herself right next to him, with Ellen on her other side.
The pair began to talk at once, leaving Ellen entirely out of their conversation, although she did not particularly mind. Sitting quietly, her hands folded in her lap, she turned her head to look for her mother, wondering if she would come to sit next to her – only for another gentleman to come and take his seat next to her.
“Lord Hartley,” she exclaimed, her heart suddenly thumping in her chest. “I believe my mother was to sit there.”
He glanced behind her and smiled. “I do not think so. She is already sitting with Lady Baxter.”
Ellen’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”
He chuckled, his lips twisted in a rueful smile. “You need not pretend to like the situation, Lady Ellen. I can take another seat elsewhere if you wish it.”
She shook her head, realizing that if she were to request him to do so, there would be some kind of talk over her behavior. “No, of course not,” she mumbled quietly. Turning her head back toward the front of the room, she tried to rid herself of the tension that was now racing through her limbs but without any great success.
“Did you enjoy your book?”
She turned toward him, seeing the small smile on his face, the gentleness of his expression. Gone was the arrogance, the sheer haughtiness she had come to associate with him. Instead, there appeared to be a genuine interest in what she thought.
“I have been enjoying it,” she replied, not quite looking at him. “It has some wonderful pieces in it.”
He nodded slowly, appearing relieved that she had spoken to him. “Poetry, was it not?”
Glancing over at him, she felt her lips curving into a small smile. “Yes, indeed. Well remembered, my lord.”
He said nothing more, but smiled back at her, appearing to be quite the amicable gentleman. A little confused by his change in demeanor, Ellen drew in a long breath and tried to calm her puzzled thoughts.
“Is this your first occasion for some time?” she found herself asking, as Charlotte continued to chatter with her suitor. “I have not seen you.”
Lord Hartley gave a slight shrug. “I told you that I required some time away, and so I took what I felt was required. I will choose my occasions carefully, I think.”
Ellen frowned, turning her face away from him.
“This, for example, gives me very little opportunity to fall back into the habits I am trying so desperately to tear myself from,” he continued softly. “And I can appreciate the wonderful musical talents of others.”
Ellen nodded but did not turn back to face him, settling her hands in her lap and waiting, a little impatiently, for the rest of the guests to find their seats. Lord Matthews clapped his hands to call for attention, and Ellen was relieved that she would no longer have to think of any kind of conversation with Lord Hartley.
“We are very glad to see you all here,” Lord Matthews began, with a broad smile. “I am sure this will be a wonderful evening. There will be a few performers, then some refreshments, followed by the second half. You will be quite delighted, I can promise you that.”
Ellen, who was aware that such an evening allowed for young ladies to prove their talents on the pianoforte, or indeed, with singing, settled back in her chair and waited for the first young lady to get to her feet.
“Now,” Lord Matthews continued with a bright smile. “This is a trifle unusual, but we are to have no lady to start off this evening. Instead, we are to have Lord Hartley performing for us.”
Frozen in place, Ellen heard the whispers of astonishment, the murmurs of surprise. Lord Hartley chuckled quietly, evidently having expected such a reaction.
“Lord Hartley?” Lord Matthews called, scanning the crowd. “Wherever you are, come out here and start us off!”
Ellen watched in astonishment as Lord Hartley rose from his chair and walked around to the front of the room. She had not expected him to ever take part in something like this, having never seen him at any occasion other than a ball. Had he not said to her on one previous occasion that he found no pleasure in anything other than dancing? That all other events were a waste of his precious time? So, what then was he doing standing up in front of the guests, apparently ready to perform?
“I know this is rather untoward, and I am sure that some of you are vastly surprised to see me here,” he began, his eyes on Ellen. “But as some of you might know, I wish to reform my character, and that means doing such things as a gentleman ought." There were a few whispers, a couple of titters, but Lord Hartley waved them off. “Now, you will forgive me if I am a little rusty when it comes to singing, but I do hope that you will find some enjoyment in my attempts at a song.”
Ellen’s mouth fell open as Lord Hartley launched into his song, accompanied by a young lady on the pianoforte. His voice was loud yet tender, taking each word and making it his own. The song was of a lost love, and Ellen felt her emotions swirl with each verse he sang, finding his warm baritone soothing to her disquieted heart.
When the performance came to an end, she simply sat there in astonishment, only managing to applaud for a few seconds before Lord Hartley came to take his place next to her. She did not know what to say other than to commend him on his performance, not wishing to reveal any of her astonishment to him.
“You have a very good voice, my lord,” she said eventually, as the next young lady rose to take her place at the pianoforte.
He chuckled. “You are surprised, I think.”
She did not reply immediately, keeping her face turned away from him and her gaze directed toward the front of the room. “I think you are playing a very good game, Lord Hartley,” she said eventually, speaking the truth of her thoughts that were going around in her mind. “Although I will commend you on your performance. It was very good and very well done.”
Lord Hartley cleared his throat gruffly, making Ellen wonder whether she had truly unsettled him.
“I thank you,” he muttered, sounding a trifle despondent. “You are very kind.”
Ellen said nothing more, the next performance already beginning. She was a little relieved when Lord Hartley took his leave of her – and of the event itself, wondering whether it had been her words that had chased him away, or whether, in fact, he realized that he had been found out. Was he still the rogue, pretending to be the gentlema
n? Or was there any possibility that he might, truly, be trying to change his ways? Ellen simply could not decide.
6
Over the next few weeks, Ellen found herself looking for Lord Hartley more and more, as though wanting to convince herself that he was, in fact, simply playing a part. She could not help but be surprised at his apparent transformation, hearing it often mentioned as she made her way through town or when walking with Charlotte through Hyde Park.
She had no reason to be interested, of course, other than the fact that Lord Hartley had told her that she was the catalyst behind his change in character – which was a fact she was not quite sure she believed. In the back of her mind, there remained the recollection of how upset and angry he had been at her dismissal of him, her outright rejection, and she could not help but continue to think that this all might be some outrageous façade in order to have her change her mind about him.
That did, of course, suggest that she thought rather highly of herself, as though she was somehow important to the gentleman, which she did not believe herself to be. Unless, it was simply that she had hurt his pride and he wanted to get his revenge. She pondered on that for some time, wondering if there was any suggestion that he might be so cruel.
“Did you hear about Lord Hartley?”
Drawn from her reverie, Ellen looked over at her friend, Lady Charlotte, who had been walking alongside her through the park.
“No,” Ellen said, wondering what the news could be this time. “Has something happened?”
“Yes, it has,” Charlotte exclaimed, as though she were about to impart the most delicious news. “He has, this very day, paid off all of his debts!”
