by Fiona Miers
A loud bang and voices rose through the house, the cacophony of female voices and stomping feet getting closer and closer.
A loud wail broke through the sound and his heart stopped for a moment.
A cry. A thin, small cry.
Oliver’s heart began beating once again, filled with a bigger, brighter love for his wife than before. His child was here.
“Where is the woman?” Oliver’s mother walked straight up to him, her nose high in the air.
The butler stood behind her with several footmen, all looking flushed and out of breath.
“It’s fine Graves. Please wait by the stairs. My mother will not be staying long.”
His mother’s nostrils flared, her eyes sharpening like the lines in her face, making her seem hawk like. Cruel.
“This is my home. I will stay as long as I like.”
“You will not. You may say what you came to say, which is obviously of great importance, or you would have put it in a letter.”
A knock sounded and the door to his bedroom opened. Oliver turned towards the midwife, her white apron smeared in blood.
“You have a son, Your Grace.”
A tingle at the back of his throat signalled impending tears, so Oliver swallowed hard and walked forward, nodding at the midwife as he passed through into his bedroom.
It was hot, the moistness in the air and the heat from the blazing fire making perspiration bead on his upper lip.
Sarah sat in their bed wearing a white nightgown, her hair down around her shoulders as she lay propped up with pillows.
“Oliver. Look, isn’t he the most beautiful thing in all the world?” Sarah’s voice quivered as she stroked the still bloodied face of the baby in her arms. She looked pale and exhausted, her hair matted with perspiration.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the world.” He sat upon the bed, stealing an arm around her and planting a kiss upon her head.
He hadn’t been able to admit it, even to himself, but as the knowledge that they were both alive and well sunk in, relief washed over him like the waves of a storm. Cold, abrupt and with great relief.
“What should we call him?”
“Gerald of course. After your grandfather.”
Sarah froze, her shoulders becoming stiff beneath his arm as Oliver’s mother spoke.
From inside his bedroom.
A place she was not welcome.
Oliver turned towards her, cringing at the woman who stood at the base of their bed staring down at his son with a strange look of glee. She would be pleased he had an heir. Their line would continue. Her blood line.
“You have no business here mother. Leave. Now.”
She ignored him, walking around the bed to peer down at their son. “Where’s the wet nurse. Call her this instant. Your wife is exhausted.”
“I’m feeding him myself, Your Grace.”
Sarah opened her white gown and exposed her creamy breast to their son, the squirming infant latching on quickly, contented sounds filling the air around them.
“Disgusting.” His mother all but spat the words as she took a step back.
His poor wife visibly cringed and Oliver’s control snapped.
“That is enough mother.”
Oliver stood up and walked around the bed, grabbing his mother by the arm.
“Remove your hands from my person this instant!”
She shrieked as he pulled her, bodily from the room. His hands clenched on her too tight, but the anger in his belly grew worse as she screamed for help.
Hopefully Sarah would forgive him for this.
He pulled her through the door and practically threw her towards Graves.
“Graves, make sure my mother is packed off to London within the hour.”
“You cannot do this Oliver! I forbid it!”
“You forbid it! You forbid it? Mother, this is my home, not yours. I have told you that you may keep the London town house, but all the other property is now mine. You are forbidden from seeing my son, and my wife, and if you dare to intrude in our life once more, I will cut you off without a penny.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Oliver took his time, glancing down his mother’s expensive dress and up again, his gaze lingering on her jewelled necklace.
“I would.”
He stood straight, inclined his head and walked back into his bedroom, confident Graves would see to his wishes.
Back inside, the darkness enfolded him, relaxing Oliver once again.
“I am so sorry, my love. I promise that will never happen again.”
Sarah glanced up at him, still feeding their son. “I heard what you said to her. You’re sure that’s the right thing to do?”
He bent down and placed another kiss on her head, smiling as she turned to get closer to him.
“Yes, my beautiful wife, it was. You, and our family, are the most important people in my life. Nothing will hurt you, ever again. For as long as I live.”
Sarah nestled into his arms and they sat there for many hours admiring every curve and wonder of their new son. Their world was only beginning and Oliver would work as hard as he could, to make it a wonderful life, for all of them.
Their story continues in ‘Lady Charlotte’s Marquess’
As a bonus read, please continue on to enjoy “Ellie’s Gentleman”, a short, sweet Regency romance also by Fiona Miers.
Ellie’s Gentleman
By
Fiona Miers
Ellie’s Gentleman
Fiona Miers
Published by Fiona Miers
Copyright © 2016
Electronic rights and Print rights by the author. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law. This is a work of fiction. People and locations, even those with real names, have been fictionalized for the purposes of this story.
One
The carriage rocked in a familiar fashion down the driveway of Ellie’s family home. Her father had always prided himself on having a well kept grounds and he paid their servants well. She pushed back the curtain and sighed at the window as her home came into view. Thank goodness she was home! A London season may have been a dream of hers at sixteen, but that had changed now that she was twenty. Having endured three of them, she realized that they left a lot to be desired.
The carriage slowed and her companion, Mrs. Nelson, looked up from her needle work.
“Are we here already? The time surely does disappear when one has something constructive to do.”
Ellie frowned. Was there censure in that statement or was her companion just stating a fact? She never could tell. The widowed cousin who had been her companion for five years, always seemed to look down her nose at everything Ellie did. The clothes she wore, the men she danced with, even Ellie’s freckles, were not good enough for Mrs. Nelson.
Ellie stifled a sigh as the carriage came to a stop. That was the other advantage of being at home. She did not need to accompany Mrs. Nelson on every excursion, every day.
“I am very thankful to be home, cousin.”
Ellie stood up and smiled at the footman who opened her door. She stepped down onto the familiar gravel road, grateful for the hand to steady her and took a deep breath. The weather was cold, the clouds threatening rain, but to her, there was not a more beautiful sight in the world.
“Home.”
Her father opened the front door and rushed forward to meet her. His eagerness fading behind a mask of polite regard as his eyes found her already out of the carriage.
Her father loved her, he always had. Especially after losing her mother to a fever when Ellie was small. But his upbringing dictated he hide such emotions. She only wished he would be more demonstrative in his affection.
“Father.”
She walked forward and up the stairs, tilting her head forward for a kiss.
His lips touched the skin of her forehead in a long ki
ss. She smiled, pleasure rushing through her. It was such a huge display of affection for an English gentleman.
Ellie looked up into the eyes as green as her own and felt her chest tighten. She had missed him so much.
“It is so good to see you father, I am so happy to be home.”
He smiled, turned and offered her his arms. She took it and walked beside him, in time with his slow stride.
“No offers again, Eleanor?”
Ellie sighed. The very first thing he says to me since seeing her off seven months before is that? Her heart squeezed painfully. Did her father really want to get rid of her?
“No father.”
He led her into his study and she sat in the chair opposite him. Crossing her ankles and tucking them under her seat she was the picture of a lady. The very finest governesses had always ensured it.
“Do you wish me to marry soon Father?”
He laughed and sat down himself. No English gentleman ever sat before a lady and her father was nothing if not a true gentleman.
“I thought that is what you wanted.”
Ellie sighed. It was what she wanted, more than anything. But she wouldn’t marry for the sake of marrying, there had to be more to it than that.
“I thought so too, Father, I still do. I just don’t think a London gentleman is for me.”
Her father frowned, concern for her written all over his face.
“Did anyone hurt you?”
She shook her head, quite the opposite.
“Oh no, Father. No one paid any attention to me at all, except the men who wanted my dowry, of course.”
Her father flushed. He had increased her dowry from five thousand pounds to seven thousand pounds this Season. More money than five other debutantes put together. Ellie had felt like a fattened-up goose before Christmas. It had been horrible. Wanted for nothing more than the money she would provide her future groom.
Her father’s actions came from a good place. He was wealthy and with Ellie being his only child, he wanted what was best for her. but increasing her dowry to make up for her lack of other qualities made Ellie fell very inadequate.
It also attracted the wrong sort of gentleman.
“I had hoped to find you a suitable gentleman, Ellie.”
He looked away so Eleanor stood up to leave. She hated seeing her father’s embarrassment and she really did need to lie down. Her head was swimming.
“I am very tired, Father, May I rest before dinner?”
He nodded and smiled as he stood also.
“Of course. I have an old friend of mine staying with us for Christmas. You will meet him then.”
Ellie smiled and curtseyed. She was relieved that her father would have a companion for a short time so that she might take time to do all the things she enjoyed doing; reading, horse riding and walking the beloved hills around her home.
Eleanor stepped into her bedroom and exhaled all of her tension in one long breath. Her room looked just the same as she had left it. She took so much comfort in the familiar surroundings, admiring the fresh flowers that had been thoughtfully placed by her bed.
She walked slowly towards the bed. Noting her silver brush, comb and mirror placed carefully on her dressing table. One of her water drawings had been framed and hung on the wall next to her dressing screen.
Sinking down onto the same mattress and pillow she had slept on for most of her life, her exhaustion became a palpable thing. She was so tired. It had been so long since she had felt safe, happy. Yet as she lay down on her pillow, nestled into her familiar blankets, she was finally content. Closing her eyes she smiled to herself, there was nothing like being home.
Ellie awoke the following morning, starving and disorientated. Her stomach growled in complaint. She must have missed dinner and slept straight through the night!
She sat up in bed, sleepily blinking her eyes. She was still dressed but someone had covered her in a blanket and her window curtains were drawn closed. Obviously someone had come in to check on her and decided to leave her.
Slipping her feet to the floor and stretching, Ellie silently thanked who ever had made that choice. Her muscles were still achy and her head a little groggy, but she felt amazingly refreshed.
The choice was a bath, breakfast or a walk. She was out the door before she had even consciously decided. Fresh air was what she needed.
Palming a juicy pear from the breakfast room, Eleanor slipped out the front door and all but ran to the stables.
She bit into the flesh, groaning as the juice ran down her lips and onto her chin. To taste fresh fruit again, to smell clean air. It was a pleasure that could not easily be put into words. London was so stifling, their food so extravagant and often French. Nothing compared to what the English country side could offer, and that hopefully included prospective husbands.
Ellie knew that she wanted to marry and have her own family. To keep her own home and have children, but not at the cost of her happiness or sanity. Too many of the ladies she had met in London had gained little except stature from marriage.
She would not be that silly. When it came to choosing a husband, she would select only the best for herself. And by the best she meant kind, handsome and preferably someone with a sense of humour.
Ellie focused on the grey sky, she would be lucky if she wasn’t caught in the rain. Her thoughts flew from husbands to horses and back again. She wasn’t looking where she was going until she tripped over something in her way and tumbled to the ground.
“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry.”
Eleanor was apologising before she had even got back up again. Her knees and hands were a touch sore, but other than her pride, little was hurt.
The something she had fallen over was actually a person sitting on the hill looking over the pond. How had she missed an entire person?
The older gentleman she had tripped over chuckled and awkwardly got to his feet.
“I should be apologising to you young lady, not the other way around.”
He held out both of his hands to her and she used them to lift herself up. He had the most beautiful pale blue eyes, almost grey. Why hadn’t she ever met this person before?
“No, truly. It was my fault.”
He let go of her hands and Eleanor felt the loss of the warmth keenly, how unusual a feeling.
The gentleman stepped back and nodded his head in a half bow.
“I haven’t introduced myself. I am Robert Blakely.”
Eleanor held out her hand, anxious to feel his fingers on her bare skin again.
“Eleanor Sommers.”
She curtseyed as elegantly as possible on a hillside but this time the gentleman’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You are William’s daughter.”
She smiled at him, who else would she be?
“Of course I am. Are you the friend my father spoke of last night?”
Robert Blakely nodded and indicated that she should sit on the blanket he had been resting upon.
Ellie sat and patted the area next to her. The gentleman’s eyes narrowed but he did sit down next to her after a few moments.
“Miss Sommers…”
She interrupted him straight away, unable to stand being addressed with such formality while at home.
“Oh, call me Ellie, please.”
A small smile lifted his generous mouth up.
“Robert.”
His name was beautiful and his voice matched. Lovely tones, soothing. She smiled up at him, relaxed in his company immediately.
“Of course, thank you Robert. Tell me why you are up so early.”
He chuckled and indicated their pond.
“I can’t stay abed when the sun is up.”
Eleanor laughed, relieved to have found at least one person who felt the same way she did. Everyone she knew slept well into the day. All of London, her friends, even her father stayed abed longer than Ellie thought was necessary.
“I am so glad you said that, I was f
eeling like a veritable freak in London.”
Robert frowned, the fine lines around his eyes and forehead deepening.
“Why is that?”
Ellie looked down at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap.
“Nothing in particular, but I didn’t understand town hours. The balls and parties would start at dinner time or later. Then they would socialise and dance well into the early hours of the morning. Sleep until lunchtime and then do it all over again.”
Robert chuckled again, the sound beautiful and genuine.
“I will never understand town hours either. Unnatural.”
Ellie laughed and nodded.
“Thank you for saying that Robert. You make me feel much more normal.”
Robert smiled and leaned back on his hands. He looked so relaxed and happy now that they were talking. What had been the problem initially? Ellie wished she knew what he was thinking.
“Are you here for long, Robert?”
He smiled and turned his head to look at her.
“Until New Year, then I must return to my home.”
Ellie reached forward, plucked a daisy from the ground and twirled the small yellow flower in her fingers.
“It is nice to still see flowers in the fields.”
Robert took the flower in his own hand and imitated her twirling movement.
“It has been unseasonably warm.”
Ellie sighed and took a deep breath of the cool morning air. Delicious.
“Do you live far from here Robert?”
He nodded, placed the flower on her side of the blanket and leaned back on his large hands.
“About a day’s carriage ride.”
She nodded, taking another deep breath and looking at the pond. It was beautiful at this time of year the pond was still and the tree’s bare of leaves and foliage. But Ellie found the deep earthy tones and sleeping trees peaceful.
Ellie shivered a little when a breeze blew past her which caused goose bumps to rise on her arms. She had been very silly to leave the house without her coat. Rubbing her hand along the prickles she tried to hide the fact that she was cold. She was having too lovely a time to go back to the house so soon. didn’t want to go back to the house yet, she was having a lovely time.
