All eyes went to Arthur, who beamed at them without shame.
It became apparent, very quickly, just how much the staff loved the sweet child.
Mrs. Lawless, the cook, began preparing toast and sent the kitchen maid to fetch “Master Arthur’s favorite strawberry jam” from the pantry. The single footman gave Arthur the seat of honor at the head of the table and pulled out a chair for Ellen almost as an afterthought. In their bustling about to attend to the child, Ellen could lean across the table to speak to her coachman.
“Good morning, Mr. Henry. I was wondering when you thought we might attempt to return to Orchard Hill. Are the roads passable?”
He shook his head over his bowl of oats and sighed. “Not at present. The sun may help our cause as the day goes on, and other people using the road for horses, but I’ve no hope as yet. I’ll check again, after the noon hour, to see if progress has been made upon it.”
Though the news disappointed her, Ellen smiled and nodded at the man. “Thank you, Mr. Henry.” She turned her attention back to Arthur as the cook placed a plate in front of her, piled with breakfast rolls, a rasher of bacon, and jam.
“Might as well feed both of you at once,” Mrs. Lawless said with a cheery smile. “Would you like some tea or chocolate, Mrs. Calvert?”
“Chocolate, please.” The dark, bitter drink was not highly favored in society, but with a dollop of cream and sugar, Ellen quite enjoyed it.
Soon enough, Arthur was licking the crumbs from his fingers, and Ellen thought it would be best to take him back to the nursery. She rose with that intention when a sharp knock sounded on the kitchen door.
“Who could that be?” Mrs. Lawless asked. The footman went and opened the door, revealing a man in a tall hat, thick coat, with scarves wrapped about his throat. From his bearing and the clothes he wore, anyone could tell he was a gentleman of means.
From the dancing brown eyes and the tilt of his head, Ellen recognized her husband.
She forgot herself in her surprise and gasped out his name. “Marcus.”
He already looked at her, having spotted her before even setting foot in the door. He came inside, amid bows and curtsies. Ellen felt sorry for the servants, having their work interrupted by people who had no right to be in their domain.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered, looking up from her chair, too stunned to move. “How did you get through?”
Everyone in the room remained still, except the footman who was wise enough to at least shut the kitchen door before enjoying the spectacle before him.
“I rode my horse,” he answered with a shrug, his voice muffled by his scarf. He groaned and reached up to tug the woven cloth down from his face, revealing a broad smile to match the twinkle in his eyes. “I came to fetch you home.”
The kitchen maid chose that moment to sigh in a manner that Ellen wished she could allow herself, but that sound brought her back to where she was and she hastily stood.
“We had better return Arthur to his nurse.” She scooped up the boy and hurried from the room, not daring to look over her shoulder. Her cheeks felt as though they were on fire.
The maid sighed because she thought Marcus’s actions dashing and romantic. But Ellen, who knew him better, could not understand his sudden rescue, even though she felt thankful for it.
The sound of his boots behind her did nothing to ease her rapid pulse. Did he intend to follow her all the way up to the nursery?
Ellen stopped and turned, Arthur on her hip. “You ought to wait in the parlor. I will be there directly.” Her eyes took him in, his grin still in place, the freckles across his cheeks lending to his charm.
Marcus nodded, but remained standing there, looking down at her. “Whatever you wish, Ellen.”
Her heart skipped a beat. His manner of speaking her name sounded tender, though she much have imagined it. Ellen swallowed, gave him one sharp nod, and hurried to the staircase. Arthur didn’t protest being returned to the nursery, especially since he had a small breakfast to tide him over. Ellen shut the door behind him and stood in the dark hall, trying to catch her breath.
Why would Marcus go to so much trouble for her? Had he missed her?
Ellen’s heart beat at a rhythm she was not accustomed to and it made her feel light-headed.
A door opened down the hallway and Louisa stepped out, tying her robe around her waist. Her hair was still in a braid, her smile sleepy. “Ellen. I heard someone out here. I thought it was Arthur. He rises early.”
“It was the two of us,” Ellen answered, staring at her friend, wondering what she ought to say but feeling as though she needed to ask advice. “We had toast and jam in the kitchen. I ‘ve returned him to the nursery.”
Louisa chuckled and shook her head, coming further down the hall. “He’s a scamp. Thank you for seeing to him. I hope he didn’t wake you.”
Ellen shook her head. “No. Not at all. I found him when I awoke.”
“Why are you up so early?” Louisa covered a yawn with a delicate hand, raising her eyebrows in question.
Ellen shook her head. “I wanted to check on the roads. They are still impassable. But—” She bit her lip, fighting a strange desire to laugh. “But Marcus is here.”
Louisa’s mouth formed an “o” and she pulled her robe tighter, looking behind Ellen toward the stairs. “He is? But, how?”
“He rode his horse. To come for me.” Ellen couldn’t quite keep the awe from her voice and hurried to speak, trying to cover it. “I don’t know what he’s thinking. I left him in the parlor.”
“And now you’re standing up here talking to me, like a ninny.” Louisa put both hands on Ellen’s shoulders and turned her about too quickly for Ellen to protest. “Go straight back to the parlor, Mrs. Calvert, and speak with your husband. I will dress and be down shortly. A man on a rescue mission shouldn’t be kept waiting.”
Ellen allowed a laugh to slip, permitting herself to feel happy and flattered by his attention, and she hurried on her way, tossing a grin over her shoulder at her friend. Her husband cared enough for her to come across the snow-covered landscape to bring her home with him. It might be out of a sense of duty, or even some sort of lark for him, but she would appreciate the gesture for its thoughtfulness, whatever the reason.
When she entered the parlor, Marcus knelt near the fire, tending to it himself. He rose when she entered and turned to her, that grin a little smaller now but still present.
“I’ve caused a stir among the servants, I think.”
Ellen raised a hand to her stomach in a vain attempt to still the fluttering she felt inside. “I believe you have. We’d said the roads would be impossible, and there you appeared, as though summoned.”
Marcus pulled off his scarf and then began to unbutton his coat. His hat, she noticed, rested atop the mantle. He really must’ve surprised the servants. Nothing else explained why no one had seen to his comfort yet.
“Let me help.” Ellen came forward, her warm fingers making quick work of the buttons. He turned around and she caught the heavy coat after it slid from his shoulders. She looked about for a moment and decided, since it was dry, she could lay it over the back of the couch. “Your gloves?” She held her hands out and he quickly stripped himself of the leather and put them in her hands. His bare fingers brushed hers and Ellen realized how cold he truly was, though the shiver that went through her body had nothing to do with the chill.
“Please, go back to the fire. You’re frozen through.” She put her hand on his arm, gently nudging him in that direction, her eyes meeting his fully for the first time since entering the room.
His expression softened and he half-bowed to her. “As my lady wishes.” He took a step back before he turned and held his hands toward the cheery blaze. “But we shouldn’t stay long. The horse is being walked by the stable boy. If you will gather your things, we might be on our way. I brought your riding habit.” He nodded to a bundle on the sofa she hadn’t noticed before. “To make it easier.”<
br />
“Oh.” Ellen took the bundle up in her arms. “Marcus,” she said, looking up into his handsome face. His wide grin faded, turning into a gentle smile. “Thank you.”
He bowed deeply, keeping his eyes on hers. “You are always most welcome, Ellen.”
She dropped a curtsy and then whirled to hurry from the room. She went back to her guest quarters and began to undress down to her under garments. A light rap on the door gave her pause, but a maid had arrived to help her into her riding habit.
With her day clothing bundled up and her warm riding habit upon her person, Ellen hurried back down to the parlor. Marcus stood where she had left him, speaking in low tones with the Banners. They all looked up when she entered, each smiling.
“This is quite the rescue for you, Mrs. Calvert,” Banner said in a teasing tone. “If I wasn’t aware of Calvert’s impatient nature, I’d be offended. It’s not as though we are brigands holding you captive, after all.”
Ellen’s eyes turned to her husband and her heart lightened. “No, but as he’s saved me from many a brigand, dragon, and wicked king, I’m afraid all he knows is how to rescue me.”
Marcus’s eyes brightened, and she knew he was remembering their time as children, too. Tucked up in attics, under hedges, in trees, while she played the fair maiden in need of rescue.
“It was all excellent practice for this moment,” he said, with more sincerity in his voice than she expected. “Are you ready? If we hurry, we could be back in time for breakfast.”
“And there’s the Marcus Calvert I know. Always looking out for his next meal.” Banner clapped Marcus on the shoulder.
“I’m glad you could come, Ellen.” Louisa came forward and embraced Ellen as warmly as any of her sisters ever had. Then she said, in a voice meant only for Ellen to hear, “He cares for you more than you think, my friend.”
Ellen returned the embrace but said nothing.
“Thank you for keeping her safe,” Marcus said, bowing to their hosts.
In minutes, they were at the back of the house and Marcus brought Ellen to his horse. With no mounting block in sight, Marcus put his hands on her waist and lifted Ellen into the saddle. She blushed and quickly adjusted her seat so he could swing up behind her.
The coachman had been instructed to wait until the road was passable. This meant that once Ellen and Marcus turned out of the Banners’ lane, they were alone in a world of white.
Ellen reveled in the feeling of his arms around her, even if it was just to keep control of the horse. He had never held her before. Never embraced her. To be so near him that should she wish it she could turn and press a kiss to his cheek—
She swiftly pulled that thought back and stiffened in the saddle. Realizing she had let her thoughts carry her into a realm of fantasy, when she needed to stay firmly in reality, dimmed her enjoyment of the situation considerably.
Marcus must’ve noticed the shift in her body, if not in her mood. “I hope I didn’t ruin things for you, coming as I did.” He spoke in a tone that matched their surroundings, his words calm and soft.
She matched his manner of speaking, not wanting to disturb the silence around them. “No, it’s a relief to be going home. The Banners are wonderful hosts, but I’d far rather be in front of my own hearth at night.”
Did she imagine it, or did he lean closer to her?
“I missed our reading together last night.”
The admission made her heart stutter and stumble as it picked up speed. Had he really? His next words caused still greater confusion within her.
“And I worried after you for some time.”
Ellen felt his warm breath on the back of her neck when he spoke. His arms around her shifted, the one at her back adjusting to hold her closer to his chest. She bit her lip and turned to see his expression.
Marcus saw her look and smiled. He winked at her. “Uphill here.”
Oh. He was making certain she was secure as they tilted back, the horse climbing a small embankment to leave the road for an open, snow-covered field. When they evened out again, she leaned away, determined to put the distance between them before he could. If she initiated the move it would be less painful than him withdrawing.
For a long time, they were both silent, but when she caught sight of a line of apple trees she recognized, Ellen relaxed.
“Nearly there,” he said, as though he’d read her mind. Then he added, with hesitation, “After you have rested we might read what we missed last evening?”
Ellen closed her eyes, imagining she heard the same hope in his voice she felt in her heart. All she wanted, all she needed to be happy, was to be near him. Even though it hurt, at times, to know he would never care for her as she cared for him.
“That would be lovely,” she answered at last.
They said nothing more until they arrived home at Orchard Hill.
Chapter Twenty
The days continued on as they had before, except Ellen saw more of Marcus than previously. He joined her for tea without being reminded, or he appeared at her elbow if she entered the library, and he came into the music room while she practiced the pianoforte. He remained attentive when in her company. Their dinners together continued as usual and his enjoyment of their time reading together lifted her heart.
They finished The Wild Irish Girl and turned to reading Shakespeare, taking turns with the parts of The Taming of the Shrew. But Marcus insisted on reading for Kate, making Ellen laugh heartily every time he pitched his voice as high as it would go. He asked her to read Petruchio with equally humorous results.
The roads eventually cleared, and the news came from London that passage would be safe, at least until the next storm. Their things were packed in a hurry. They must go to London for at least part of the Season to show support to his brother.
“And allow Mother to throw us a wedding ball. She enjoys her parties,” Marcus informed her.
Ellen winced at the thought of being the center of attention, but she knew it to be her duty to appear when the family desired. Besides, having never been to London for the Season, she thought standing up at a ball would be a small price to pay to enjoy the other spectacles of society.
“As long as I can also attend a few plays, maybe see the museums?” Though she meant to make it a condition of her attendance at their ball, it came out sounding a great deal like a request.
Marcus grinned at her over the portmanteau he held. He had brought it down from the attic for her use. “I would have thought you would be interested in the libraries and booksellers. I thought we could go together to find new volumes for our humble library.”
“Together?” Her excitement made her bounce on her toes. “Yes, please. I would like that very much.”
He bowed. “Make certain all is ready; we leave in the morning.” Without another word, he disappeared down the hall.
The journey would take four days, if they stopped when they had no sun to travel further.
“It would be wonderful,” she murmured when they were both in the carriage after several hours, “to make a journey of this distance in but a day.”
“Can you imagine the speed you would have to move at?” Marcus responded, humoring her as he normally did instead of dismissing her fanciful thoughts. “Or if we could make the journey continuous, not stopping to even change horses. This puts me in mind of the steam boat we were reading of the other day.”
“Oh, the American improvements on Lord Dundas’s invention, yes.” Ellen sat forward with interest. “Though water is most certainly more easily traversed than land, it is a marvel he could travel 150 miles in but thirty-two hours. What an incredible ride that would be.”
“If only we could find a way to use steam travel over land, instead of horses.” Marcus pursed his lips in thought. “But the engines required for such a thing would need a constant source of fuel.”
They postulated for a long stretch of time how such things could be done, even speaking of the iron rails used by coal mining compani
es to move large quantities of their product with pulling horses.
Marcus made such discussions lively. He always listened to what she shared with him, whether it had a practical application in the moment or not, and often shared his own thoughts on the subject at hand.
They arrived in London exhausted, but in good spirits. The roads remained traversable, with it staying cold enough to keep the dirt paths from turning into mud. When the carriage stopped for the last time, before the Earl of Annesbury’s townhouse, Ellen breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m grateful we will not be making the journey in the opposite direction for some time.”
Marcus put a hand to his heart, widening his eyes comically. “Madam, you wound me. I thought you enjoyed my company, my completely undivided attention, these four days past.” He stepped from the carriage and held his gloved hand out for hers. “Was I not entertaining enough?”
Ellen, amused by his teasing, stepped down and quickly tucked her hand back in her muff. “I liked our conversations, of course, but it will be nice to sit upon a seat that does not move, bounce, or jostle about.”
He chuckled and nodded. “I will confess, I look forward to that as well. Come, let’s get inside quickly, and we can get to our rooms before Mother discovers we are here.”
Ellen giggled and hurried with him, up the steps and into the house. She felt happier and lighter than she had in many years. She was less worried about her time in London. The carriage ride with Marcus, as exhausting as the travel had been, made her grateful for the time spent with him.
They avoided the earl and his mother and were shown to adjoining rooms in the family wing. The house was large, by town standards, but not near the size of the more prestigious ducal homes they’d passed in the neighborhood. Bidding each other a quick farewell, Ellen and Marcus parted in the hallway.
Ellen entered her room and found Sarah already there, hands folded primly before her and eyes as wide as saucers. “Sarah, how was your journey?” she asked brightly.
“Oh, lovely, ma’am. We had a grand time in the carriage.” The servants left earlier that morning, from the last inn, in order to prepare the way for their employers. “And I’ve unpacked and put some things in the clothes press for dinner tonight. I asked ‘round to see if it warranted anything special.” She began to help Ellen out of her traveling costume. “There’s to be a few guests to welcome Mr. Calvert and yourself to town.”
His Bluestocking Bride Page 16
