by Louise Allen
‘You knew Rafe, of course.’
‘As much as we cared to.’ Now Anne’s expression was positively disapproving. ‘As neighbours, merely. I must confess to not liking his way of life.’
Anne had already confided that she was with child again. Bella plucked up her courage. ‘May I tell you a secret?’
‘How secret?’ Anne asked, her smile reappearing.
‘You may tell Mr Baynton, but that is all.’
‘Very well, my lips are sealed, but tell me at once, I cannot wait.’ Anne leaned forwards, eyes sparkling.
‘I am expecting a baby.’
‘Wonderful!’ Anne leaned over and squeezed Bella’s hand. ‘I must confess to guessing that you were. Your figure, if you do not mind me saying so, has changed since the wedding! When is it due?’
‘Early December,’ Bella said. Anne froze halfway back against the squabs, her mouth forming an O as she did the calculation.
‘Yes, I am afraid things were anticipated more than a little,’ Bella admitted.
‘But it is very romantic—a clandestine love affair! And how dashing of Elliott, the sly dog!’
‘Oh, please do not tease him about it!’ Anne smiled and shook her head. ‘I so dread the gossip when I cannot hide it any more—which will be any moment now. My father did not approve—he thinks aristocrats are immoral—so it was all rather difficult, which is why we…which is why I ran away.
‘My mother died years ago, and my sisters have left home and I—Anne, I would so much value your advice. I have no idea what to expect and I want to be a perfect mother.’ She swallowed, suddenly emotional. ‘You see, I keep bursting into tears at the slightest thing. And I made Elliott alarmed and he called the doctor about something perfectly normal…’
‘Oh, my dear, of course you can talk to me. I was so lucky, I had Mama close by and my two older sisters both have children. But even then there was much to ask about. Now, I must have a boy and you must have a girl and then we can plan a marriage that will embarrass them enormously when we tease them about it in twenty years’ time!’
Perhaps that was her best hope, a daughter. Surely Elliott would love a little girl and then his own son—their own son—would be the heir. But it seemed wrong to wish the child to be anything but who it already was. He or she should be loved unreservedly for themselves.
But that nagging anxiety apart, this journey to Worcester was a far happier one than her trip with Elliott to meet the bishop, Bella mused when the pair of them sat back to draw breath after her long list of questions and worries had been discussed. She was married now, the baby’s future was at least secure, things with Elliott were as comfortable as she could hope, given that she was in love with him and he was simply being kind and doing his duty.
In the bedroom comfortable was not quite the word, she thought, suppressing the smile that tried to escape every time she thought about their lovemaking. If it were not for the fact that she was terrified of losing control and blurting out her feelings, Bella thought that aspect of her marriage was almost perfect. Except, perhaps, that she wanted to do more, be more adventurous. Elliott appeared to like her touching him, but what if she tried to kiss him as he kissed her, intimately, and gave him a disgust of her for being wanton, just when he had begun to forget, she hoped, how badly she had behaved with Rafe?
And she wished he would invite his friends to stay, or that they could go on visits. Or even tell her more about the estate and how she could help. When she asked he fobbed her off with concerns about her strength, her health, and she wondered if he thought she would blunder out of ignorance or try to interfere with what he saw as his business. She wanted to be busy, and of use, and sometimes she felt a little lonely.
At three in the morning when she lay awake and her worst fears came to haunt her, she wondered if Elliott was ashamed of her. She was no beauty, whatever he told her, she had brought him no useful alliance, nor a dowry, and she had no idea yet how to go on in society. And there was the pregnancy, of course.
But she must not be gloomy now, not with her new friend to bear her company and the prospect of an entire day shopping in front of them. ‘I have chosen the fabrics for my suite,’ she said, taking the samples from her reticule and showing Anne. ‘And I must visit the dressmaker to have some gowns altered and new ones made.’
‘And we can look at things for the nursery,’ Anne suggested. ‘John asks what I can possibly want to buy, for everything I had for Prunella is wrapped up in the attic, but men never seem to understand about shopping.’
‘Elliott does, I think. At least, he seemed to enjoy buying clothes with me,’ Bella ventured.
‘All of them frivolous and most of them for the boudoir, if I can hazard a guess,’ Anne said with a grin. ‘That is characteristic of new husbands; it does not persist, or apply to everyday articles, I am afraid.’
But even selecting new sheets for the servants’ rooms or choosing between one style of sensible walking boot and another had charm when it was done in company with a friend who had a lively sense of humour and excellent taste.
Chapter Nineteen
Bella perched on a rather high stool at the counter of Messieurs Wildegrave and Harris, Linen Drapers, and decided on eight cotton towels at sixteen pence each instead of the cheaper ones at twelve pence. They would wear better. Ten shillings and eight pence, she wrote against that item on her list.
‘This poplin would be very suitable for the linings, Lady Hadleigh,’ the assistant said, placing a large roll on the counter before her.
‘Yes, I—’ There was a muffled exclamation beside her and Bella turned to see an elegant lady in her forties, accompanied by a pretty blonde. They were both staring at her.
‘Lady Hadleigh?’ the older woman said in tones of disbelief.
‘Why, yes.’ Bella stared back. She might not be entirely up to snuff in all matters of etiquette, but this abrupt question from a stranger was certainly not normal polite behaviour. ‘I am sorry, ma’am, but you have the advantage of me.’
‘Rafe Calne’s widow?’ the woman demanded. ‘I had no idea—’
‘No! Elliott’s Calne’s wife.’
The younger woman gave a little gasp. ‘Elliott is married?’
‘Yes, he is.’ Bella was beginning to feel both embarrassed and irritated. People were looking, the sales assistant was standing there with his mouth open. ‘The announcement was sent to the newspapers.’
‘We have just got back from visiting Aunt Marjorie who is sick,’ the younger woman said. ‘She does not approve of newspapers—’
‘Frederica.’ Her mother silenced her with a gesture. ‘The engagement must have been of short duration.’
‘Madam, I have no idea who you are,’ Bella said, sliding off the stool where she was feeling at a decided disadvantage. ‘But—’ Her skirts pulled tight across her stomach for a moment as she got down. Both women’s eyes fixed on her midriff just as Anne came round the corner with her hands full of fine wool.
‘My dear Lady Hadleigh, do look at these charming baby shawls. I think we should both purchase one.’ She stopped at the sight of the group at the counter. ‘Lady Framlingham. Lady Frederica.’ Her expression became perfectly blank for a moment before it was replaced with a charming social smile. ‘You have met my friend Lady Hadleigh, I see. Arabella, have you been introduced to the Countess of Framlingham and Lady Frederica?’
‘No.’ Bella held out her gloved hand. Something was very wrong here; the countess had reacted badly to the news that Elliott was married before she had realised that Bella was with child.
Lady Framlingham looked down her nose and merely touched the tips of Bella’s fingers with her own. ‘You have known Lord Hadleigh for some time,’ she stated.
Bella told herself she was imagining the emphasis on known. ‘Since February,’ she said. She could hardly tell the truth and say she had known him barely two weeks, not with her pregnancy obvious.
‘I see. I felicitate you upon your marriage
,’ Lady Framlingham said.
Bella looked at the slim, elegant young woman at her mother’s side. Suddenly she felt clumsy and ashamed of her own burgeoning body, as though the visibility of her pregnancy was a badge, marking her out as wanton and unchaste.
‘Come, Frederica.’ Lady Framlingham swept out, her daughter at her heels. The young woman looked back at Bella for a moment, her eyes wide and questioning.
‘Anne? What on earth?’
‘Let us finish our shopping,’ Anne said, the fixed smile still on her lips. ‘It is time for luncheon, I think.’
It was not until they were both seated in a private parlour at the Royal Oak, food on the table and the door firmly closed, that Anne’s smile slipped. ‘Elliott was invited to the Framlinghams’ house party. He cried off, of course, when Rafe died.’
‘Well, what is that to cause Lady Framlingham to look so disapproving?’ Bella demanded. ‘She cannot expect him to join a house party under those circumstances.’
‘No, of course not. Not even one where she was expecting him to make an offer for her daughter,’ said Anne bleakly. ‘It never occurred to me. There were all those rumours about him and Lady Freddie, but all the time he and you…’
Bella’s stomach seemed to have become totally hollow. ‘Elliott was committed to her?’ she demanded. He had told her he had no one. He had—
‘No. I am sure he was not. But it was becoming obvious that he was thinking of settling down, making a choice. He attended many of the come-out balls, he was seen at Almack’s and he was on very good terms with Lady Freddie. Perhaps we all had it wrong—we must have—and all it was, was friendship.’
But the pretty blonde had been startled and bemused. Was that the reaction of someone on hearing that a friend had married unexpectedly?
‘Elliott is not the sort of man who would court two women at once,’ Anne said with compete confidence. ‘He is far too honourable for that.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Bella agreed. ‘Elliott has a highly developed sense of honour.’ Why had he chosen to do as he had? Because there truly was no relationship between him and Lady Frederica or because righting Rafe’s actions was the correct thing to do for the family honour in his mind and the feelings of the two women involved were secondary to that?
He could have married Lady Frederica, that charming, well-bred, virginal young woman who was everything a man in his position would want. And now he had her and she had not even given him her untouched body to make his. She rested her hand on her belly, hating how she felt about the evidence of her child now.
‘Would you mind if we go home after this?’ she asked. ‘I feel rather tired.’
‘Of course. I am too,’ Anne Baynton said. The fact that it was obviously a polite lie and Anne was far from weary did nothing to make Bella feel any better. She set herself to making cheerful conversation—just because her emotions were in turmoil and she was facing another unpleasant confrontation with Elliott, there was no reason to spoil her friend’s day.
It seemed she had not deceived Anne one whit. The moment they arrived back at the Hall Anne swept into the study where the two men were talking, kissed Elliott on the cheek and dragged her husband away, explaining that she was so weary that she was ready to drop and that Bella had excused them from staying for dinner.
‘What was that about?’ Elliott demanded. ‘I still had things to discuss with John. Is Anne all right, because she looks absolutely fine to me.’ He shrugged, the charming half-smile that always made her pulse quicken visible for a moment. ‘But what would I know? I am a man.’
‘Quite,’ Bella said, trying to decide whether to sit down or stay on her feet. ‘I met friends of yours in Worcester today, Elliott.’
‘Indeed?’ He was frowning now.
One thing I can say about Elliott, Bella thought, he is sensitive to my mood. I just wish I could read him so easily. ‘Lady Framlingham and her daughter Frederica. They seemed most surprised that you are married. They were also, having noticed my condition, surprised that you had, as Lady Framlingham put it, known me so long. They had not seen the announcement, having been away from home.’
‘Ah.’ Elliott hitched one hip on to the edge of the table and regarded her, his lean face thoughtful. ‘I thought you trusted me, Arabella.’
‘I did.’ She saw her use of the past tense register. ‘You told me that there was no one else. Anne tells me that there were rumours that you were interested in Lady Frederica early in the year.’
‘I was, although I thought I had been careful not to make it obvious. If Rafe’s death had not intervened and I had accepted an invitation to their house party then I would probably have proposed to Freddie,’ Elliott said coolly. ‘She is intelligent, amusing, well-brought up and suitable.’
‘I can see that. You were aiming high; she is a very good match for a younger son.’
‘I have money—that appeals to the Framlinghams. Freddie is a younger daughter. I would have been acceptable.’
‘And even more so now.’
‘Quite.’
‘And her affections were engaged?’ Bella asked. ‘Was this to have been a love match?’
‘Good God, no! We like each other. I think I can say we are friends. Lovers, no, never.’ Elliott looked at her steadily. ‘I told you I had never been in love with anyone, did I not?’
‘Yes, you did. And I should have asked you if you had any prior commitments while I was at it,’ Bella said.
‘You think I am dishonourable enough to jilt another woman?’ Elliott was as tense as she now. But of course, she had impugned his precious honour.
‘I think,’ she said tightly, ‘that you would have done almost anything to put right your brother’s actions, whatever the consequences. Consequences like society gossip, a young woman who expected a proposal having the shock of her life when she meets the pregnant wife of the man she looked forward to marrying, a child with a father who cannot love it.’ Elliott’s face hardened, but she swept on. ‘Are you going to write to Frederica?’
‘No, of course I am not.’ Elliott got up and stood in front of her. ‘That would imply there was something to explain. Freddie is no more heartbroken over me than I am over her. And if you think if I made her an offer and I would break my word to her because of some obsession with righting Rafe’s wrongs then you do not know me at all.’
‘I don’t think I do!’ Bella flung back. ‘I know nothing of your life. You keep me shut up here—today was the first time I have been allowed out—you do not invite your friends to visit—’
‘You are not shut up.’ Elliott was not shouting by sheer force of will, Bella thought, her own heart thudding. She had never seen him like this, the blue eyes blazing, his face taut with anger. The thought flickered into her head that he looked magnificent. Terrifying, but magnificent. ‘I am trying to make sure you rest, trying to allow you time to get used to things. Do you think I enjoy being stuck here face to face with the mess that this estate is, with no relief from it? I have a perfectly good life I could be living, friends I could be with, another estate, invitations—’ He dug into his desk drawer and threw them on to the surface.
‘Well, go and live your other life then,’ she shot back. ‘Go and do whatever it is you do with your friends—I wouldn’t know, I haven’t met them because I am not good enough to meet them. Go and look after Fosse Warren, go up to Town and visit the relatives I must not see.’
She was being unreasonable, she knew it. But she loved him and he would not let her past the careful kindness, would not share his life with her. He could not even promise to share his needs with her. Bed was one thing, but all the rest of what made up Elliott Calne was a closed book. Why should he open up to her? He had never wanted to marry her. It hurt so much at the back of her mind where she tried to hide it that today’s humiliating encounter was like a fingernail dragged across a raw graze.
‘Very well, if that is what you want. I will drive over to Fosse Warren now, there is nothing here that needs me f
or a week or so. Turner has his orders.’ He picked up a pile of correspondence from the end of the desk. ‘I will not refuse these after all.’ Elliott paused in the doorway. ‘And do feel free to go shopping whenever you wish, my dear.’
Elliott drove away from the Hall and his wife more confused than he could ever remember being, even when Rafe had turned against him. She made him so angry, yet he did not want to feel that way and she did not want to cross him, he knew that. Arabella was trying so hard to be a good wife to a man she did not love…
Ah, is that it, you fool? he asked himself. You want her to love you. As if things were not difficult enough already.
That would be a miracle, Elliott decided, turning his team in the direction of Moreton in the Marsh. She had loved one Calne brother and had been utterly betrayed. Why should she ever give her heart to another, who looked so much like her betrayer? And what would he do with a wife who loved him anyway? All that emotion, all that pressure to live up to an ideal and never to hurt her. He would never manage that—he was blundering about now, hurting her over the child, over Freddie. And if she loved, then she would hope he would love her back.
He wanted a wife who would be passionate in bed—he had that. One who would preside over his households with competence and charm. And she was learning very fast to do that. He needed a viscountess to look after his people and she was doing that far better than he could ever have hoped. And, of course, he needed a wife to bear him children, give him an heir.
The leaders pecked and swerved as his hand tightened on the reins and Elliott cursed under his breath. If only this relationship was not entangled with his feelings over the baby. But without the child there would be no relationship.
Love was an emotion for women. It hurt, it complicated matters. Men of his class did not marry for love. You want her to love you because you think you are better than Rafe, his conscience jabbed at him. You need to feel you own her, just as you need the child to be yours. Rafe betrayed you, rejected you and now you want to crow that you have made Arabella happy when all he could do was attempt to destroy her.
