by Amy Field
“You may let me walk once we draw closer as not to sully your reputation, although I believe your rescue of a young woman in distress should be duly applauded,” she sighed.
“I will do no such thing. Reputation aside, I could never leave a fair lady such as yourself to journey any length of the London road unaccompanied—even if it is but a short stretch.”
“My thanks to you, Captain Wyndmere, though I fear the repercussions of your genteel chivalry.”
“I may be accused of compromising your virtue and thus enticed to marry you and save your reputation.”
Ellie swallowed. “If I could be so lucky,” she whispered, conveying just the briefest hint of her feelings to the handsome man with unruly hair in front of her. She wasn’t even sure if he heard her.
Lord Wyndmere abruptly pulled the horse to a stop and turned slightly in his seat. “Truly then? You feel as I do,” he searched her face for confirmation.
She hesitated for a moment, before giving him the briefest of nods. Why deny the truth? He must have seen it written upon her face.
He took her hand in his and drew it to his lips, planting a soft, lingering kiss on the borrowed glove she wore. His eyes glanced up at hers as his mouth curled into a lazy half-smile. Ellie’s insides turned to mush and her stomach quivered with nervous excitement she’d never felt before.
As her face flushed crimson, she cleared her throat and darted her eyes away from his piercing blue gaze. “Whatever lies before us, we must face it,” she remarked, her voice shaky. He nodded and urged the horse onward.
Chapter Four
“ELEANOR ROWENA CARRINGTON! My own daughter! A loose woman!” her mother exclaimed, full dramatics on display as she sank onto a chaise, overcome with a case of the vapors.
Ellie kept her expression smooth and her hands folded in front of her. She’d graced the doors of Lyndhurst Hall only five minutes earlier and, unfortunately, encountered her mother immediately upon her arrival. “Mother, I’m not loose, as you say. I was struck with a…moment of confusion… last night, but I’ve gathered my wits, and I understand my duty to you and this family,” she recited the words she’d played in her head over and over, hoping they sounded more sincere than they felt.
“Oh, Eleanor! Why on earth would the Commander marry you now? You’re ruined!” Her mother fell back on the pillows once more.
She struggled to hide the smile creeping onto her lips. If she could only be so fortunate!
“Daughter, a word if you please! In my study, and hurry—the Commander is waiting,” her father called from the hall, an air of impatience and cold anger permeating from his presence.
“Yes, sir. I’m on my way,” She closed her eyes and squared her shoulders, silently praying for the strength to endure whatever waited for her behind the study’s mahogany door.
Usually, the room she is one of her favorites, with its distinct masculine feel arising from the walls of books, ornate wood furnishings and scents of tobacco, leather, and ink. But today, as the Commander, Lord Southerland, rose slightly with a small bow in her direction, the room seemed as dreadful as a judgement hall.
“Young lady, you have caused quite the predicament and jeopardized an important arrangement between myself and Lord Southerland with your brash behavior at the ball,” her father began.
“But, Father, if I may… I hadn’t expected to stumble upon—“
Her father interrupted her. “Hush, Ellie. You do not understand the ways of the world. What’s expected of a wife and of a husband are two different matters. What you saw, or think you saw, is of little consequence. However, leaving the ball unchaperoned to be returned the next morning by an unmarried man, is scandalous. You have no idea of the position in which you’ve placed our family.”
“I apologize, Father, and to you as well, Lord Southerland. I sincerely regret the betrothal arrangements that are no longer valid, but Captain Wyndmere did not trespass upon my virtue. He simply helped me find shelter and returned me home. However, if I am required to marry him to save my reputation, and that of my family, I will gladly sacrifice my will to do so,” she proclaimed.
“You sound rather eager, girl. I fear I’m hard pressed to believe that you return the chaste young lady you left after spending the night with such a rogue. Wyndmere is known for his reputation with the fairer sex,” Lord Southerland interjected, his words as hard and cold as the blocks in the icehouse. “Your Grace, might I speak a private word with my betrothed,” he requested. Her father nodded and left the study.
Ellie tried to bite back the retort wanting to escape her lips. The Commander was determined to strip her down with his heartless words, make her feel the village idiot. “I suppose you have dodged a bullet then, my lord. You no longer need worry about being saddled with a thoughtless hussy,” the words spilled out before she could stop them. He rose and stood before her, so close his breath was warm on her face.
“Oh no, Lady Eleanor. We will go forward with this marriage as it matters little to me where your affections lie, and you certainly know that mine does not rest with you. However, the connections and assets afforded me by this affluent union far outweigh the trivialities of feelings and other domestic desires associated with marriage. I have an heir apparent in my oldest son, and once I have you with child to prove the validity of our union, you may go about your merry way, even take a lover for all I care,” he said ruthlessly.
She gasped at his harsh words. “How could you be so cruel? To force me into this—plenty of young ladies would jump at the chance to be your wife. Leave me be!”
“I will do no such thing. You are to be my wife. As for Captain Wyndmere? Thanks to your thoughtless antics, I shall send him to the frontlines of battle. We plan to march out Tuesday next for a final skirmish. Let us see how your precious rescuer fares.”
In an instant Eleanor's heart sank into her shoes and an ice cold feeling enveloped her. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd totally ruined it for Captain Wyndmere!
“No! Please, do not do such a thing! I will marry you, and I’ll stay true, just please don’t place Captain Wyndmere in danger. He has done nothing to deserve such treatment,” she pleaded.
“Lady Eleanor, you may leave me now. I must be away to make arrangements for battle,” he said, staring straight ahead as he dismissed her.
Ellie ran from the room, her sorrowful cries echoing throughout the grand hall. Servants and lingering guests alike paused to stare at the sight of the beautiful daughter of the Duke wailing as she ran up the stairs. She slipped into her bedroom and flung herself onto the four poster bed. Why had she even bothered to return?
As the midday sun began sinking toward the horizon, she lifted her cheek from her tear-soaked pillows and drug herself to the vanity. Peering into the mirror, she stared at the image of a young girl, cheeks splotchy, eyes red and rimmed with tears.
A knock at the door and the entry of a maid with tea interrupted her solemn reverie.
“Place the tray at my dressing table and leave me be,” she said bitterly.
“Yes, my lady. If I may say, mind the sugar pot,” the maid said cryptically before curtseying and leaving the room.
Ellie’s brow furrowed. Why on earth would she care about the porcelain pot of sugar? She hardly ever sweetened her tea. Curious, she cupped the small bowl in her hands and studied it. Lifting the lid, she peered inside and saw a folded piece of parchment nestled among the white cubes.
Chapter Five
A note! From whom? She clasped the small scrap of paper to her breast. Wyndmere! Surely! Her fingers fumbled as she scrambled to unfold the note. A slanted, thick script filled the sheet of paper.
Lady Carrington—or might I dare say, Ellie, as I’m told you are called by those who are close,
All is not well. Meet me in the apple orchard as the twilight settles.
I cannot take my leave without speaking to you alone.
Yours always,
Chadwick Wyndmere
; She held the note briefly to her breast before tossing the parchment into the fire illuminating her cozy room. She couldn’t risk someone else finding the incriminating slip of paper, despite her desire to treasure the small keepsake.
Unfortunately, Ellie already knew what he would tell her. But after sending a note to her parents that she was unwell and would not be able to attend dinner in the dining hall, she slipped down the servants’ stairs in a homespun cloak she’d pilfered from the maid, clearly in on Captain Wyndmere’s plan.
“Ellie!” A loud whisper called to her from the copse of apple trees. She looked around to make sure no one lingered nearby before dodging into the shadows of the orchard.
Captain Wyndmere rushed to her, taking her slender hands into his rough ones.
“Dearest, I’m afraid I have unfortunate news,” he whispered urgently.
She hung her head in guilt. “I already know. The Commander informed me straightaway of his cruel plans,” she confessed.
“I do not worry for myself, as there is yet a slim chance that I may walk away with my life once the battle is over. But you, dear Ellie, once you are married to that man, your life will no longer be your own. There are even whispers of the suspicious circumstances of his first wife’s death.”
“I know my life is of little consequence to anyone unless it is being used as a bargaining point,” she replied.
“That isn’t so. I very much treasure your life—your beauty, your smile, your kind heart and wild spirit. I wanted to tell you that due to our questionable circumstances, I asked for your hand in marriage this afternoon, but your father directed me to inquire with the Commander, who promptly handed me my papers.”
“Oh! Captain Wyn—“
“Call me Chadwick, please. With the dangers I soon will face, I want to hear my name upon your lips,” he interrupted her, taking her hands in his.
“Chadwick, I’m so very sorry to have placed you in this position. I never intended for my brash actions to harm anyone else.” She hung her head.
Chadwick let go of one of her hands and tilted her chin up so that he could look her in the eyes. “Do not apologize, Ellie. You didn’t know—my predicament was produced by a series of unfortunate events, and there’s nothing that can be done. My only reason in telling you of my departure is to confess that I do very much care for you, beautiful Ellie. Though it is improper for me to say such things to an engaged woman, I cannot keep it to myself. I care deeply for you, Ellie, and I will carry your name in my heart upon the fields of battle.” His voice was urgent, and a hint of desperation lingered in his words.
“I care for you, as well. If there were any other way…” she trailed off, standing before him and unintentionally breaking both of their hearts.
“Let’s not talk of it any longer,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around her. Ellie knew she shouldn’t give in to his embrace, but her heart held more sway than her mind in the matter. She lifted her face and closed her eyes, a silent permission he understood perfectly.
When his lips tenderly brushed against hers, lingering with gentle pressure, the world disappeared beneath her feet. She floated on the happiest of clouds as she lifted her arms to pull him closer and run her fingers through the hair curling at his collar.
“Ellie, sweet Ellie,” Chadwick whispered as he lifted away from her lips, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m afraid we must part before I take further liberties than I already have.”
She nodded, despite the unexpected disappointment of his lips no longer on hers. Smoothing her hair and gown, she tried to settle the tumultuous beating of her heart and longing of her soul physically before leaving the shelter of the orchard she would consider a sacred place from that day forward.
“Goodbye, my love. I wish you well, and I will pray for your safe return,” she told him, fighting back tears.
“I will never forget you, Ellie. My heart is yours, always,” he replied, kissing her once more before she willed herself to take her leave finally. She ran through the apple trees, not stopping or looking back. If she dared to do either, she’d certainly run back to find him and refuse to leave his side. That wouldn’t bode well for either of them.
Chapter Six
Hours later, as she sat at her dressing table in her nightgown, brushing out her chestnut hair until the long locks glistened, she paused, brush in mid-air as someone knocked urgently at her bedroom door.
She jumped up, wrapping a velvet robe around her cotton gown and rushed to see who needed her at this hour. Opening the door a crack to peer into the hall, the sight of a worried maid wringing her apron greeted her.
“Whatever is the matter?” Ellie asked, opening the door wider.
“My lady, your father sent me to fetch you straight away. ‘Tis the Commander. He’s not well.”
“Oh, my. Let me dress quickly. Where am I to go?”
“To the Commander’s suite on the second floor. I’ll help you dress, my lady,” the maid told her, following Ellie back into her room. She plucked a gown from her wardrobe and handed it to the young girl as she shrugged out of her nightdress.
Moments later, a suitably dressed Ellie struggled to keep up with the maid’s quick pace. When they’d reached the Commander’s door, a few of the gentry and some military officers that had remained after the ball the other night, as well as her mother, hovered outside of the double doors leading to his suite of rooms.
“Mother?” Ellie questioned.
“Oh, Ellie, dear. The Commander is gravely ill. He was fine, laughing heartily about Napoleon’s latest escapade while he took port with the gentlemen after dinner, when out of nowhere, he clutched at his chest and started struggling to breathe,” her mother explained, wringing a lace handkerchief in her jewel-laden hands.
“That is terrible, Mother. Will he be alright?” she asked.
“The physician is examining him now, but it doesn’t look good, Ellie. I’m afraid we must prepare ourselves for the worst,” she confessed, and for the first time ever, she looked older than her forty-three years.
Just then, the gray-haired physician and Ellie’s father emerged from the Commander’s room. Ellie studied their furrowed brows, the slight hunch of her father’s shoulders. All was not well.
“Lady Eleanor, the Commander wishes to see you,” the physician said when his gaze landed on her.
“Is he going to be alright?” Ellie asked, fearing what she would see when she entered the room.
“He’s resting now. He has suffered a malady of the heart, and although I’ve bled him, whether he makes it through the night… we shall see,” the doctor told her, crossing himself.
Guilt crept into Ellie’s heart. She should be beside herself with grief that her future husband’s life hung between heaven and earth. But she wasn’t.
Creeping softly into the room lit by firelight and a smattering of candles, Ellie quietly approached the bed. With his eyes closed, the Commander’s handsome face looked peaceful in the dancing shadows.
“Lord Southerland?” Ellie inquired, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Ahh, Lady Eleanor, my dear bride,” he said slowly, stirring, although he kept his eyes closed. She hadn’t imagined that she would feel her heart sink at the sight of him so weak.
“I am sorry to hear of your illness,” she told him with unexpected sincerity.
“As a man uncertain of what life he has left to live, I must beg your forgiveness, my lady. Lord knows, I am sorry for whatever pain you experienced at my expense.” The words were a struggle for him. Ellie wasn’t sure if the difficulty was physical or emotional.
“It doesn’t matter, now. Please don’t let yourself be troubled. Concern yourself only with getting well,” Ellie replied, patting his arm gently.
“Ah, but it does matter. I must know you have forgiven me,” he pleaded.
“Yes, I hold no ill will, but might I ask you for one favor, my lord?” Guilt plagued her, but love drove her forward with her bold ask.
He nodded slightly.
“Will you rescind the orders for Captain Wyndmere? He was thrown into an unfair predicament due to my…impetuous actions, and his assistance has issued him an order for certain death,” she confessed.
“If I do so, t'will settle matters between us?” he asked.
“Yes, very much so.”
“So be it. When you take leave, send word to fetch my steward. I shall have him draw up the order and seal it this very night,” he promised.
“Oh! Thank you, my lord! Thank you! The consequences of my actions were becoming too much to bear!” she exclaimed, leaning down and caressing the dying man’s cheek. She didn’t need to add that she loved another man, that his act would allow her love to live while he lay on his deathbed struggling for breath.
“Go in peace, Lady Eleanor. I do hope to see your angelic countenance upon the morrow,” he said, squeezing her hand.
“Sleep well, my lord. I will pray for your quick recovery,” she murmured before exiting the room.
Chapter Seven
“Has Captain Wyndmere taken his leave?” Ellie asked Preston, the Lyndhurst Hall Butler.
“He is preparing for his journey. You may find him in the duke’s apartments discussing strategies with the other officers,” Preston informed him.
“Thank you,” she nodded. Ellie slipped into the Rose Room, the closest drawing room to her father’s privy chambers, and paced back and forth. She couldn’t very well interrupt some of the country’s fiercest militants as they discussed battle plans. How would she draw out Chadwick without seeming improper?
Of course! The Commander had asked her to summon his steward. She would simply go herself rather than send a servant. She could always blame the distress she felt over his illness caused her to forget the rigid expectations of society.
She left the rosy drawing room and with her head held high and shoulders squared, walked purposefully to the heavy oak doors that lead to her father’s private rooms. A liveried servant standing guard tried to stop her.
