The young lady waved her hand. “Oh, I haven’t one really. So long as the music is lovely I am happy to play. But let us discuss something more interesting. How did you and our dear Mr. Calvert meet? I do not think I have seen you in London before, and my family attempts to go every year.”
Marcus had turned aside to speak to a gentleman, Mr. Harrison, who had come to stand near them. They never discussed how to answer questions of this nature, but Ellen assumed the truth would not harm anything.
“We have known each other since childhood,” she answered. “We met again but recently.”
“I see.” Miss Emma stepped nearer and lowered her voice. “Frankly, those of us who were in London two years ago were all surprised he married at all. It was no secret how much he cared for Lady Selene, or Lady Castleton is what we ought to call her now, I suppose. What a disappointed love affair that was.” She sighed, lowering her eyelashes a touch. “But it is good to see he is healed from that. Especially given the rumors about Lady Castleton.”
Ellen glanced aside to her husband, but he had stepped away several paces and appeared to be deep in conversation with several gentlemen. Putting her attention back on the young woman before her, Ellen forced a smile and shook her head. “I am afraid I am unfamiliar with any rumors you may speak of. Is the lady in good health?”
“Perfectly well in body.” The younger woman hid a smile behind her fan, though she raised her eyebrows. “But not so well in marriage. Rumor has it her husband remains in the country while she resides in London, doing whatever it is she pleases, escorted about by any number of gentlemen. My mama says I should not worry my head over it, but I am rather anxious to get to town and find out for myself what is going on.”
“Indeed.” Ellen felt the bottom drop from her stomach and her shoulders tensed. “I am afraid, having never met her, I will not be a source of any interesting information.”
A giggle made her turn to see a young woman standing near Marcus, gloved hand on his arm and a blush on her cheeks as she spoke to him. Ellen strained to hear, but Miss Emma was talking again.
“I am certain you will learn more as people discover your marriage. Any woman would want to be kept abreast of such things.”
Ellen nodded absently. “Excuse me, won’t you, Miss Emma?” She stepped away, toward her husband.
Marcus saw her coming and smiled warmly. “Ah, allow me to make the introductions. Miss Yardly, this is my wife, Mrs. Calvert.” They made their curtsies. “Miss Yardly has been kind to me in London and allowed me to dance with her in many a crowded ballroom.”
“Oh, it has always been a pleasure to stand up with you, Mr. Calvert.” The young miss shot him a coy look from beneath her lashes and turned fully to Ellen. “Your husband is a very fine dancer. But I am sure you know that.”
Ellen did not know that, and she realized how unlikely she would be to find out at any point soon. Married men rarely, if ever, danced with their wives.
As Miss Yardly looked like she expected a response, Ellen did her best. “Mr. Calvert is very adept at anything he puts his mind to.”
Marcus looked down at her with an expression she could not entirely read, though his smile softened.
“You see? It is as I have been telling you gentlemen. My wife is a great compliment to me in life. I go about as I always have, and now she is here to attest to my brilliance in doing so.”
A few gentlemen chuckled and Ellen tried to look pleased with the comment. Her handsome husband, who discussed books with great intelligence, who was insightful and compassionate with his tenants’ needs, seemed a different person when in company.
He introduced her to the gentlemen standing near him and she stood at his side, mutely nodding in agreement from time to time with all he said. Though he had not been in residence at Orchard Hill for years, he knew everyone in the neighborhood either from London or visiting as a younger man. Gentlemen laughed at his jokes and ladies came near to receive a compliment or two before tittering and wandering away again.
With no desire to engage in private conversation, Ellen wondered why she ever thought being married would make events easier. When she was no longer a stranger, she would be able to enjoy herself more. At least, that’s what she hoped.
It was nearly time to go in to dinner when a new face appeared near their circle and Marcus reached down to catch her hand, tugging her gently toward a tall gentleman. “Mr. Banner,” he said, gaining the man’s attention. “Please, allow me to introduce my wife to you.”
Mr. Banner smiled brightly, the expression making his humble features friendly. “If I might introduce mine as well. One moment, please.” He took a few steps to a gaggle of women, all conversing and flapping fans about with great animation, and gently took one by the arm. She returned with him, her lovely smile the friendliest Ellen had seen all night. “There now. I will go first. Darling Mrs. Banner, might I introduce my good friend, Mr. Calvert?”
Marcus bowed. “A pleasure, Mrs. Banner. I have heard a great deal about you, but I began to doubt you existed.”
She laughed. “That is the fate of one who does not go to London. No one believes we are real.” She turned to Ellen, her bright green eyes sparkling with good humor. “I understand you suffer the same fate, Mrs. Calvert. We are both in danger of vanishing all together if we do not spend more time in Society’s clutches.”
Ellen smiled hesitantly, not sure if she ought to trust this woman’s tongue to remain kind. “It is true. I have never been to London.”
“But we will remedy that soon,” Marcus said firmly. “Will you come up as well, Mrs. Banner?”
“Perhaps,” she answered. “For a few weeks. I must admit, it holds little interest for me, but my husband’s business calls him there from time to time.” Mrs. Banner gave her attention back to Ellen and reached out to touch her lightly on the arm. “Congratulations on your marriage, Mrs. Calvert. I am certain you must be a very special person and I look forward to knowing you better. Would you both come to dinner tomorrow, at my home? If you are going away to London, I must become your friend right away, lest you forget me while you are gone.”
Ellen’s outlook brightened. “That would be most welcome, Mrs. Banner.”
“Excellent.” Mrs. Banner slipped her arm through her husband’s and nodded toward a set of doors. “I believe dinner is being served. I hope you will find me after. I want to tell you all about the neighborhood.” The couple joined the small crowd going into the dining room.
Ellen looked up at her husband, some hope returning. “They seem kind.”
“They are my favorite people in the county,” he confided softly, bent to speak directly in her ear. “But don’t tell anyone else. They would become jealous and I would lose my popularity. Then where would we be?”
“Home, reading a book,” she muttered darkly, her mind on the previous conversations of the evening. But Marcus laughed out loud and then smothered the sound with his hand, earning several strange looks as people passed them to go to the dining room. She resisted the urge to smile and looked sidelong at him.
“I take it you would not mind that fate?” he asked, his humor restrained behind his eyes.
“Not very much,” she admitted. “Let us go in and see how far apart they have put us.” That was another of society’s tricks. Marry a man and never dance with him in public or sit near him at dinner again. She sighed when she saw they were nearly at opposite ends of the table. She hoped her dinner partners would at least be reasonable people.
Her hopes on that account sunk rapidly. As a new bride, and with her husband’s importance in the neighborhood, she was fairly close to the host. Two ladies outranked her, the wife of a viscount and the wife of a knight. She sat next to the viscountess.
“Mrs. Calvert, it is such a pleasure to meet the woman that Mr. Calvert finally chose to settle down with,” the viscountess remarked in a tone which suggested it was anything but a pleasure. “I have been watching him with interest for years as he flitted
about the finest balls and drawing rooms of London.”
The viscountess could not be much older than Marcus; Ellen wondered at her unusual attentions to him. But the gentleman to her other side heard the conversation and broke in before she could respond.
“Yes, Mr. Calvert has always been a favorite with the ladies. I daresay, his brother the Earl is more popular, for all he is reticent in his duties to society.”
“The Earl of Annesbury still mourns his late wife. I am afraid that makes him a more romantic figure than his brother,” the viscountess agreed loftily. “Not to mention the title. Of course, with Mr. Calvert as his heir at present, I would have thought more young ladies would set their cap for him.”
Ellen remained silent as they conversed freely about her husband’s family, then chose another target in the company to aim their impolite conversation toward. She could hardly believe that people of such quality could be so rude as to discuss such private matters with each other. Ellen did not have much of an appetite, but she took what bites of the food she could.
The evening fast gave her a headache.
¤
Marcus tried to focus on the conversation of his dinner companions but found he could not stop glancing down the table at Ellen. She barely looked at her dinner companions, let alone spoke to them. Strange. He’d found the viscountess to be entertaining company in the past.
“Mr. Calvert,” his hostess spoke, drawing his attention. “Would you tell us more of your bride? How did you meet Mrs. Calvert?”
He glanced to either side of him to find the other guests looked equally intrigued. “It is not a particularly intriguing tale. We have known each other since childhood. I have always enjoyed her company. I found it very natural to think of her when I turned my mind to finding a wife.”
One of the female guests on his side of the table leaned forward to speak. “Very natural? What a way to speak of marriage. But why have we not seen her in your company before, in London?”
“Her family does not go to London. They enjoy a short season in Bath.”
His hostess chuckled and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “I cannot think of anyone I know who would prefer Bath to London. How extraordinary.”
Marcus knew asking Ellen to wed would raise eyebrows, but he did not understand how much the questions along that vein would irritate him. What did it matter to anyone else who he chose as his bride? Once married, society recognized she was part of him and his prestige. Her family did not matter so much as her current place in his.
Casting a quick look down the table to check on his bride, he wondered if that was why Ellen appeared solemn and silent at her end of the table. Were people asking her the same intrusive questions?
Changing the topic felt like the most tolerable option. “Mrs. Harrison, you have exquisite culinary taste. This dinner is absolutely perfect.”
She demurred gracefully.
In another moment, he praised a young woman down the table from him on her lovely voice, then spoke in general about the wintry weather and expectations for the season. Expertly, he turned the conversation from himself. Deftly, he laid out compliments and flattered one person after another. Before long, the dinner was complete, and the lady of the house stood to signal for the other ladies to accompany her from the room while the gentlemen enjoyed stronger libations than readily available in the card room.
Peter Banner came to his side of the table and sat, crossing his arms and leaning back. “For your first event as a married man, you are doing supremely well.”
“It’s hardly any different than it was when I was single,” Marcus said, his voice low enough that his comments remained between the two of them. “Except that I’m no longer fending off single women.”
Banner chuckled and then turned to converse with the man on his other side.
Marcus hadn’t told his friend the entire truth. While he might carry himself as he always had, speak as he always did, he was worrying for Ellen. She had been nervous to come and being apart from her when she might be uncomfortable made him anxious. If nothing else, the ton had taught him to mask his feelings, and he did that now for her sake.
Ellen might not appreciate a hovering husband, he told himself.
He carried on through the after-dinner port as though nothing weighed on his mind, speaking of their plans to go to London.
When the host finally stood, it was time to rejoin the ladies. Marcus sprung up faster than he intended to. He made up for it by allowing other gentlemen to precede him as they shuffled out.
He entered the parlor and surveyed the room, looking for Ellen in her beautiful mint green gown. He found her, sitting on a covered bench near the window, deep in conversation with Mrs. Banner.
“They will be thick as thieves in no time,” Banner said, appearing beside him.
Marcus barely held in a sigh. “I hope so. Ellen needs friends here.”
“She will have them. In time.” Banner clapped him on the shoulder and went forward, making straight for his wife, and Marcus followed a step behind.
Chapter Sixteen
A footman answered the door at the Banner home. He showed them inside and took their things, the only servant in evidence. Their home was not so large as Orchard Hill. Yet it felt warm and welcoming. The floors were polished oak, the walls covered in a simple dark green paper, with watercolors decorating the hall between doorways.
The footman led them to a parlor where a fire burned in the hearth. Mr. and Mrs. Banner stood as Ellen and Marcus entered, both of them with friendly expressions. Bows and curtsies were made, but then Mrs. Banner came forward with her hands outstretched to take Ellen’s.
“Oh, I am glad you accepted our invitation. I know you must be in great demand, new to the neighborhood as you are.”
Ellen glanced askance at Marcus, who likely knew how few invitations had actually arrived at their home for her. “Thank you for thinking to ask us.”
“Please, come and sit. We usually enjoy each other’s company before dinner is ready.” Mrs. Banner moved to the comfortable looking maroon couch and gave the cushion next to her a pat.
Ellen accepted and sat, glancing around with interest. The walls were covered in a cream-colored paper with miniature portraits and larger paintings of landscapes. Dried flowers hung in a few corners, their colors muted but a lovely contrast to the walls. The furniture looked to be made less for decor and more for use, with sturdy lines and dark colors.
“How are you settling in as mistress of Orchard Hill?” Mrs. Banner asked.
“I think I am more used to the idea in my mind if not in practice.” Ellen smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt and folded her hands tightly in her lap.
Mrs. Banner’s laugh was low and soft, her expression merry. “I remember what it was like. You have ideas of how to do things, your mother’s advice ringing in your ears, but you doubt yourself every time you change something the housekeeper has put into place.”
“Oh, that’s it precisely.” Ellen could allow herself to laugh too. “I have to pretend I know what I’m about. But Mrs. Burk is rather wonderful. She listens to what I have to say and is always willing to try my ideas. Thus far.”
“I rather like Mrs. Burk. She is the aunt of my cook, Mrs. Lawless. They occasionally have tea in my kitchen and let me pop in now and again to join them.” Mrs. Banner wrinkled her nose and leaned in close to Ellen. “But you mustn’t tell anyone about that. It would be scandalous that an employer takes tea with her cook and visiting servants.”
Ellen could not repress her grin and she raised a hand to her heart. “I will not say a word to anyone.”
“What’s this?” Mr. Banner asked, coming closer to the women. He and Marcus had stood near the doorway, chatting quietly while their wives reacquainted themselves. “They are not in our house above five minutes and you already have Mrs. Calvert swearing fealty to you? You are devious, darling.”
Mrs. Banner shook her head, pursing her lips at him. “Not at all. We are merely
sharing secrets with one another. I only demand fealty from you, Peter.”
“Secrets? Do I get to know any of them?” Marcus asked, settling in a chair a pace from where Ellen sat. “I am convinced my wife has any number of secrets, but I have yet to learn many of them.”
Ellen blushed. “I don’t have any secrets at all. Besides the one Mrs. Banner shared with me, and I am not at liberty to share that one with you.”
“But you are so quiet most of the time. You must have many interesting thoughts you keep to yourself.” He turned to Mr. Banner and spoke with near pride. “My wife is one of the most intelligent people I have ever met, for all she says few words.”
“That is the mark of intelligent people, or hadn’t you heard?” Mr. Banner chuckled and leaned back in his chair as much as his formal wear would allow. He steepled his fingers before him and raised his chin in a lofty manner. “Which is how you know, Mrs. Calvert, that your husband is not such a person. The fellow could talk the ears off a mule.”
Ellen darted a glance at Marcus and saw he regarded the comment with amusement, which gave her the confidence to smile. “I am not certain that’s true, Mr. Banner. If you will permit me to say so, I believe that people of great intelligence, or even good thoughts, tend to disguise the fact that they have such. Some with silence. Others by spouting nonsense.”
“I’m not certain whether you paid me a compliment or not,” Marcus protested through a chuckle.
“I was not speaking of you, but of Mr. Banner,” Ellen quickly corrected, raising her eyebrows at her host and trying not to smile too broadly.
Mrs. and Mr. Banner laughed, the one daintily and the other with a roar. “Oh, you will do well here, Mrs. Calvert. You have brought us a kindred spirit, Calvert.”
She felt heat creeping into her cheeks but pushed aside the desire to duck her chin when she saw Marcus’s eyes glittering at her. “Indeed, I have. I grow more pleased with my choice in wife every day.”
His Bluestocking Bride: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 3) Page 12
