by Bree Wolf
“I don’t like ghosts,” the girl admitted, nervously glancing about.
Kneeling down, Ellie took Mathilda’s hands into hers and met her eyes. “I don’t think your grandma meant to say that there were ghosts here.” A bit of the tension fell from the girl’s face. “I think she meant that your uncle is haunted by memories, bad things he remembers from his time as a soldier. Do you understand?”
Mathilda nodded, and a smile came to her face.
“There you are,” Theresa’s voice echoed across the large hall. “I feared we had lost you.” Followed by her parents, who bore a rather displeased expression on their faces, she walked toward them, casting a loving glance at her granddaughter. “I see you have met Mathilda.”
“Yes,” Ellie said, rising to her feet. “She saved me. I got lost, and she showed me the way back.”
Beaming with pride, Mathilda looked at her grandmother. “I did. Truly.”
“I am very proud of you,” Theresa smiled, brushing a hand over the girl’s unruly hair. “Now, hurry on upstairs. Supper will be served shortly, and you look like you could use a bath first.”
As the girl rushed up the stairs, Theresa turned to Ellie. “Her father’s death has unhinged her world quite a bit.” She met Ellie’s eyes. “I think she could use a friend, a friend who is not stricken with grief.”
“Oh, we are friends already,” Ellie smiled. “She even told me a secret, which I am afraid I cannot share with you since I am bound to secrecy.”
Theresa chuckled, but her eyes shone so brilliantly that Ellie’s heart flowed over with happiness. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Theresa said for the second time that day. “I knew you belonged with us.”
“Thank you,” Ellie said, feeling her hopes rise into the sky. Never would she have expected to feel at home on her very first day at Elmridge. Now, all she needed to find out was whether or not her future husband could feel about her the same way.
Ellie fervently hoped that he could.
Chapter Twelve − Man & Wife
Descending the large staircase down to the front hall, Ellie’s stomach was in knots. On trembling legs, she followed her parents toward the dining room, eager to glimpse her future husband. Surely, he would be present at supper, wouldn’t he?
Upon entering the dining room, Theresa greeted them with the by now familiar warmth that Ellie had come to rely upon within the few short hours she had spent at Elmridge. Her parents returned the greeting, and yet, Ellie thought their demeanour could not rival Theresa’s with regard to sincerity.
“Allow me to introduce you to my son,” Theresa said, stepping aside. “Lord Frederick Lan-caster, Marquess of Elmridge.”
Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as Frederick stepped forward and slightly bowed his head to them. Although her eyes travelled over him, she did not see the elegant clothes he wore or the impeccable manners with which he greeted her family. All she saw was the smile on his face that seemed out of place as his eyes spoke of a hidden pain.
Her heart ached for him, and yet, his mere presence made her hands tremble with excitement. When he bowed to her and took her hand in his, she was certain her heart would give out. Although his eyes barely met hers, she held her breath as he bent forward and kissed the back of her hand. His lips were so soft, and they chased a delicious tingle up and down her body.
A shiver came over her, and she quickly averted her eyes.
Ellie breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally seated around the enormous table. Her knees felt more than just a trifle wobbly, and she feared they would abandon their post altogether at any moment. However, once that worry was removed from her mind, Ellie felt herself relax, enjoying the company of her old as well as her new family.
While she had a rather estranged relationship to her parents, her younger siblings meant the world to her. Seeing them now cast curious glances at Mathilda, who in turn eyed them through narrowed eyes full of suspicion, put a deep smile on her face.
Looking at the dowager duchess, Ellie noticed the way her eyes swept those in her company. With a smile and a kind word, she assured that all felt comfortable and no one was left out. In Ellie’s mind, Theresa clearly was the heart of the family. Although a veil of grief hung about her, Ellie could see the strength and kindness that rested underneath and immediately knew her to be a survivor. Life had dealt her harshly, taken away her husband as well as her eldest son; yet, here she was, determined to save what remained of her family.
Although Maryann’s eyes spoke of kindness as well, the former marquess’ widow lacked the strength her mother-in-law possessed. Ellie could see the effort it took for her to hold her head high and keep her shoulders back. She seemed like a feather, delicate and vulnerable, and at the mercy of every breeze to blow her way. A storm would surely finish her.
And then there was Frederick. Ellie remembered well the young man who had assured her he would keep her secret that fateful summer, and yet, the man before her seemed to have forgotten those times long ago. It did not surprise Ellie that he did not remember her; however, he also seemed to have forgotten who he once had been, who he still was deep down at the very core of his being hidden under layers of pain and guilt.
Frederick barely contributed to the conversation, which was mostly carried by Theresa as well as Ellie’s parents. Although he asked the occasional question and answered any query directed at him in a cordial fashion, his eyes remained distant as though he was not really there, as though he did not see the people before him. Unlike Maryann, whose gaze was focused on her food, her fork absentmindedly pushing a carrot across her plate, Frederick appeared…unconcerned, unaffected by grief or pain or loss. His eyes were open, his gaze enquiring, and a charming smile played on his lips.
A mask, Ellie thought. Was he even aware he wore it?
Throughout the evening, she tried to catch his eye. However, when he did look at her, she was certain he did not see her as though determined to ignore her presence. Had he only agreed to the marriage at his mother’s urgings? Ellie wondered, fighting to keep discouragement from flooding her heart. Or was he merely disappointed by his mother’s choice?
Glancing at her hands, Ellie couldn’t help but wonder about the wisdom of the choice his mother had made. After all, could anyone ever truly see past the ugly scars that decorated her skin?
“I trust that your journey here was pleasant?” Frederick asked, and Ellie’s head snapped up.
Meeting his eyes, she felt her heart hammer in her chest, and her mouth became dry. She swallowed, desperately trying to remember what he had said. “Yes,” she croaked and cleared her throat. “It is indeed a most wonderful spring. Everything is in bloom.”
Feeling the heat rush to her cheeks, Ellie couldn’t help but gaze into his eyes. They were so blue, so unbelievably blue, and they reminded her so much of that dazzling smile that had lit up his face all those years ago. More than anything, she wished she could see it one more time.
However, the same eyes that looked into hers held no mischief, no sparkle, no happiness. In a strange way, they seemed to lack all emotion as though what they saw could not reach his soul. He had erected a wall around his heart, around his soul, around the very part that made him who he was so that no one and nothing could ever touch him again. It was a safe way to live, and yet, it was a lonely one, too.
As tears came to Ellie’s eyes, she smiled at him, silently vowing to stand by his side and never close her eyes to the pain that so clearly shone in his.
***
When the sun finally lurked into his room, its rays sneaking in through the small gaps be-tween the curtains, Frederick moaned. How could it be morning already? Had he even closed his eyes at all?
For a long moment, he just lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.
Today was his wedding day.
A groan rose from his throat as he realised what he had agreed to. How could he have been so foolish? Yes, he was the marquess now, and it was his duty to continue his lin
e, and yet, how could he ever have thought that he was capable of doing so?
While Elsbeth had clearly experienced the harshness of life, her eyes had glowed with un-tainted innocence. What would become of her once the darkness in his own heart also found its way into hers? Could he share her bed and still keep his distance? Could they both remain untouched by the experience? Could he protect her as well as himself from the poison that would undoubtedly arise should he be unable to shield her from the misery that held his heart in its clutches?
As though in a daze, Frederick got dressed and went downstairs. He noticed the festively set ballroom as well as the floral arrangements. He saw servants rush from here to there tending to last-minute matters, and he heard his mother’s determined voice, welcoming guests and directing servants. And yet, none of it mattered, none of it touched him. As long as he kept his distance, he would be safe.
And so he kept to his study until his mother finally opened the door. Her gentle eyes looked into his. However, none of the care and concern he read there mattered, either. “It is time, Dear,” she said, and he rose from his chair, brushed down his overcoat and left the study.
On his arm, she led him through the house, out the terrace doors and toward the small chapel that he had last visited upon his brother’s funeral. How strange some places were? He mused. Sad occasions. Happy occasions. All the same.
Then, he hadn’t shed a tear.
Now, he barely smiled. What was the use?
Walking down the aisle, Frederick glanced at the many friends and acquaintances that had answered his mother’s invitation. He offered a nod here and a smile there until they stopped at the altar. His mother turned to him then, her nimble fingers setting straight his cravat. “Do try to smile, Dear,” she counselled as a gentle smile curled up her lips and her eyes looked at him almost pleadingly. “This is a happy occasion.”
Was it? Frederick wondered. He couldn’t remember why.
The daze returned then, and Frederick barely remembered standing before the priest. His thoughts strayed to moments past; some moments held joy, however, most of them were moments of pain and loss. Absorbed in his own memories, Frederick barely saw Elsbeth as she came to stand next to him. The priest’s words droned in his ears, and yet, he couldn’t have repeated a single one.
However, he felt his mouth open and his lips form the words ‘I will.’
A kiss was expected. He remembered that much. Could he kiss her and not feel anything?
As Frederick turned to his wife, her blue eyes gazed into his own, and he saw a shy smile curl up her lips. A slight blush coloured her cheeks, and her eyes remained fixed on his as though she was trying to look into his core.
Had he gazed into these eyes before? He wondered. She looked at him as though she knew him.
Frederick swallowed. Then he took the step separating them and leaned down. She closed her eyes then, and so did he.
When their lips touched, relief flooded Frederick’s body. He didn’t feel anything. This wasn’t so bad. He could kiss her, and still keep himself at a distance.
When he opened his eyes, he found her looking at him once more, her lips curled up in a shy smile. Had she felt anything?
The crowd cheered, and well-wishers drew them apart. Frederick shook hands here and there, accepted congratulations and offered his thanks in return. Then he led his new bride back to the manor where the musicians began to play a quiet tune. They sat down for their wedding break-fast, and cheerful conversations reached his ears. He saw delighted smiles on many faces as they drank and ate, and yet, nothing he saw touched his heart.
Inwardly, Frederick congratulated himself. In the few short weeks since his mother had first spoken to him about choosing a bride, he had successfully steeled his heart. If he could not experience emotions, then they could not hurt him or others. If he kept his heart locked up, then none of the pain and misery he knew was still there could travel from him to another.
And yet, as he glanced at his bride, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss her. To really kiss her.
It had been a long time since someone had touched him without inflicting pain.
Someone who was not his mother.
Chapter Thirteen − A Wedding Day
As he led her onto the dance floor, Ellie marvelled at the softness of his touch. Although he barely glanced at her, his touch spoke of a generous and kind man.
His eyes, however, seemed more distant than the night before. He smiled and conversed animatedly with his guests, and still there was a coldness in his gaze that spoke of a tortured soul, a soul that had retreated to keep itself from further harm.
Ellie watched him carefully, and her mind slowly added up her observations and came to a simple conclusion.
Frederick did not want her.
Instantly, Ellie chastised herself for having dared to hope. She hadn’t even been aware of it at the time. However, looking at him now, it pained her to have him disregard her so completely. Especially since it stood in such stark contrast to his mother’s warm welcome.
Ellie took a deep breath, reminding herself that today was merely her first day as his wife. There would be many more to come. Many more for her to find out what pain resided within his heart. Many more for him to understand that she was determined to bring him back.
Seeing equal determination to separate himself from everyone else around him in his eyes, Ellie only hoped that she would have the strength to stand her ground.
As the steps carried them to one another again, she looked at him with searching eyes, a smile on her face despite the words that left her lips. “You did not wish to marry me, did you, my lord?”
Instantly, the veil that constantly clouded his eyes vanished, and he stared at her…if only for a moment. Before Ellie could congratulate herself on her small victory, his eyes glossed over once more, and a polite, yet distant smile came to his face. “If I have offended you in any way, my lady, I do apologise. Whatever it was, it was not my intention to cause you distress.”
Ellie bowed her head, acknowledging his apology, and yet, her eyes would not move from his face. Remembering the one short moment she had glimpsed the man underneath, Ellie felt more determined than ever. If she had to shock him into dropping his guard, then by God, she would.
***
Out of nowhere, a hand landed on his shoulder, and Frederick spun around, eyes wide, as though he had been shot.
Upon seeing his expression, the smile slid off Oliver’s face, and his brows drew down into a confused frown. “Are you all right?” he asked, eyeing him carefully.
Frederick swallowed before shaking off the sense of dread that so often lingered in his bones these days. “Certainly.” He forced a smile on his face. “I hope you are enjoying yourself.”
“I am,” Oliver said. “Or rather I was.” Again his friend’s eyes swept over him. “However, now I am rather worried.” He took a step closer, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “What is going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Clearing his throat, Frederick scoffed. “Do not be absurd.”
Oliver’s eyes narrowed.
“And would you quit staring at me?!” he snapped, momentarily forgetting the rest of their guests surrounding them like a swarm of bees. Fortunately, their continued buzzing drowned out his own rather loud remark. “Nothing is wrong. I was just…thinking.”
“About what?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Frederick hissed under his breath. “Now, go and dance. After all, this is a wedding.”
“It certainly is,” Oliver replied. “Which begs the question why you are looking so glum.” Taking him by the arm, Oliver led him to a less crowded corner of the room. “Talk to me, Rick. Why do you look like you’re about to face the gallows? This is your wedding day. You should be happy.”
Frederick sighed, feeling the desperate need to get away boil in his veins. He shook his head and then raised his eyes to meet his friend’s worried gaze.
“I am not the man you all expect me to be. I am not my brother, and−”
“We never−”
“Yes, you do!” Frederick snapped as his hands curled into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. “You all do!” He took a deep breath. “I am doing what is my duty, but you cannot expect more of me. I was never meant for this life. However, now that it is mine, I am doing the best I can. I cannot give you more than that.”
“I am not asking for more,” Oliver objected. “This is not about the marquessate. I am not talking about the duties that are yours now.” He lowered his head, his eyes as scrutinising as Frederick had ever seen them. “I am talking about your wife. Do you not care for her?”
Frederick shrugged, glancing at his new bride. “How could I? I don’t even know her.”
Oliver frowned. “Then how−?”
“My mother,” Frederick interrupted. “She insisted I marry to continue the line.”
“I see,” Oliver mumbled. “When I heard about your wedding, I believed that such a short betrothal spoke to a love match.” He shrugged. “I suppose I wanted to believe that you had fallen head over heels for a wonderful woman and would be happy now.”
Shaking his head, Frederick laughed. “I doubt that I am even capable of such feelings.”
Oliver’s mouth opened and then closed. His eyes, however, betrayed the sorrow that lived in his heart whenever he looked at his friend. “Rick, please!”
Frederick could see it as clear as day, and yet, he knew that Oliver would have to learn to live with it.
Happiness was not in store for him. Maybe not even contentedness. All that was left was to do his duty, to do right by the people that he loved.
Did he? Frederick wondered. He knew he had loved them once. But now, he couldn’t be sure. What did it feel like? He couldn’t even recall the feeling.
