by Joyce Alec
“There, there, my dear,” said another lady suddenly hurrying toward Lady Ellen. “You need not cry. Lord Hartley did everything right in bringing Lord Morton with him, so as not to damage your reputation. None here will speak ill of you, have no fear.” She handed her a handkerchief, and Ellen accepted it at once with trembling fingers, suddenly wanting to lean into the lady and let her tears spill out without holding them back. The lady was quite short with a slightly rotund figure that came with age, her hair piled up on her head. Ellen guessed her to be a little older, around the same age as her mother. She had the same air of maturity that her mother carried with her. Perhaps that was why the small crowd of ladies and gentlemen began to disperse almost at once, with only a few murmurs reaching Ellen’s ears.
“Lady Fitzgerald,” the lady continued, putting one arm around Ellen’s shoulders. “Now, you come along with me and dry your eyes. Lord Morton may have ruined this wonderful moment for you, but I am quite sure that Lord Hartley will not allow him to ruin anything further.” She shot a fierce look toward Lord Morton before shaking her head. “I look forward to seeing the announcement in the papers tomorrow, Lord Hartley.”
“But of course,” Ellen heard Lord Hartley murmur, as she was quickly led away by Lady Fitzgerald. “I shall ensure to go in search of the Earl of Fancot this very moment. I will not delay an instant.”
“Come with me, my dear.”
Ellen allowed Lady Fitzgerald to lead her back into the ballroom, her limbs moving woodenly, as she waited for the music to stop and for every eye to turn on her. Wincing, she looked up, only to see that no one took any particular notice of her.
“You need not worry, Lady Ellen,” Lady Fitzgerald said calmly. “If you are not aware, I am the Duchess Fitzgerald. Those who saw you outside will not dare say a word about you, not when I have instructed them to remain silent.”
The gravitas she held suddenly became clear. “You are very kind, Duchess,” Ellen whispered, as they move through the crowd. “This has all been quite a shock.”
Lady Fitzgerald nodded grimly. “Yes, I thought it must have been. What a shame, child. I am aware that Lord Hartley has a somewhat improved reputation, but I was not at all impressed with Lord Morton’s presence. Lord Hartley should have known better than to allow him into his confidence.”
“They have been friends for a long time,” Ellen managed to say, hoping she would not faint and make a scene. “I suppose Lord Hartley might have thought him able to keep a secret, but it appears, in his drunken state, Lord Morton was rather unable to do anything but make a fuss.”
“I am sure it will all turn out quite well,” Lady Fitzgerald replied calmly. “Come the morning, you will be as delighted as you can be, and this whole matter with Lord Morton will be forgotten – although I would advise you not to invite him to the wedding itself if this is how he is to behave!”
Still entirely unsure as to whether there would actually be a wedding, Ellen tried to smile, and at the sight of her mother, she practically ran toward her.
“Mama,” she gasped, tears threatening to pour from her eyes. “We must find a quiet room at once.”
Her mother’s smile faded, concern rushing through her features. “My dear girl, whatever has happened?”
“She is quite all right, I assure you,” Lady Fitzgerald said at once, with a warm smile. “A little bit of disruption as to what was meant to be a wonderful moment in her life, but I have ensured that there is not even the slightest murmur over her reputation, you can be quite certain of that.”
Ellen felt her mother’s fingers tighten on her own at the mention of Ellen’s reputation.
“I am greatly indebted to you, I am sure,” the countess replied softly. “I confess I do not even know your name.”
“This is the Duchess Fitzgerald, Mama,” Ellen murmured, hearing her mother’s swift intake of breath. “She has been very kind to me.”
The countess dropped into a curtsy. “Your Grace,” she said quietly. “Whatever it is you have done to help my daughter, I am truly in your debt. Might I call on you in a few days to thank you properly?”
“But of course,” Lady Fitzgerald replied, with a warm smile. “I would be delighted to see you both. I will send you my card. Good evening to you.”
Ellen thanked her again with words that were so quiet she could barely hear herself speak and watched as the Duchess turned and walked away, quickly swept up amongst the crowd of guests.
“Oh, Ellen,” her mother breathed, looking down at her daughter. “Whatever happened to you?”
Ellen tried not to weep, blinking furiously. “I will tell you all once we find a quiet room, Mama,” she promised, urging her mother to leave the room at once. “Please, let us go this very moment. I do not want to make a scene.”
The countess drew herself up and took charge in a way that Ellen had not often seen before. She looped Ellen’s arm through her own, supporting her as they made their way from the ballroom, walking carefully and calmly so as not to gain anyone’s attention.
“Might I have a private parlor for a few minutes?” the countess asked one of the footmen, waving a hand in front of her face. “It is all becoming a little too much, and I could do with some quiet.”
The footman bowed and led the way up the staircase. Ellen stumbled only once, but her mother continued to support her as best she could until, finally, they were in a room of their own.
“I know it is quite unorthodox at the ball,” the countess said to the footman, with a quick smile. “But might I ask for a pot of tea for myself and my daughter? I always find it vastly refreshing.”
“But of course,” the footman said at once, and without another look, he closed the door behind him.
Ellen, finally alone, sank into a chair, put her head in her hands, and burst into tears, sobs shaking her body. Her mother, unable to do anything other than wrap her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, murmured soothing words, rubbing Ellen’s back, as sadness and grief engulfed Ellen’s heart.
“Oh, my dear,” her mother whispered softly. “You must tell me everything. Start at the beginning. It cannot be as bad as all that.”
“It is worse than anything I could have ever imagined,” Ellen whispered, shaking her head and trying to wipe at her eyes. “Mama, it appears that I am engaged.”
11
Her mother stared at her, wide eyed.
“Tis true,” Ellen whispered brokenly. “At least, I hope to goodness that he intends to do what he said after…” She trailed off, embarrassment creeping into her features.
“Who is it?” the countess asked, in a sharp voice. “Who is the man, Ellen?”
Closing her eyes, Ellen shook her head. “I cannot believe I was taken in by him. It is Lord Hartley, Mama.”
“Lord Hartley?” her mother repeated with a frown. “I thought he was quite a reformed character, is he not? Are you telling me that he has managed to strip you of your dignity somehow and that you are now in the position where the only way out is marriage?”
The anger in her mother’s voice made Ellen wince, aware that she had some part to play in what had occurred. “I believed him when he said he had changed, when he apologized to me for some very unorthodox behavior, Mama. I trusted him when he told me that he wanted to speak to me, and since there were so many other guests out walking in the gardens, I went with him. They were well lit, and I did not at any point go off by myself with the man.” Seeing her mother frown, Ellen knew she could not tell her that she had been the one to press her affections onto Lord Hartley, guilt washing over her. “Lord Morton, however, chose to shout out to a great many other guests that Lord Hartley and I were engaging in some rather inappropriate behavior.”
“Oh no,” her mother whispered, the anger draining out of her expression. “Whatever did you do?”
“There was nothing I could do,” Ellen exclaimed, tears threatening once more. “Lord Morton said something about winning a bet, as though it was Lord Hartley’s intention to
fool me for whatever reason. I can hardly bear to think of it!”
Her mother’s lips whitened with anger, and she gripped Ellen’s shoulder with possibly more force than she had intended.
“Do you mean to tell me that you suspect Lord Hartley took a bet on being able to get you alone with him?”
“I did not think anything of it,” Ellen wailed, fresh tears coming to her eyes. “He has, by all appearances, become something of a gentleman, so why would I suspect him? Besides, there were so many others out there, and I made sure to remain within the lit pathway at all times…. Oh Mama, I feel so foolish. What can I do?”
Her mother drew in one long breath, her fingers loosening their grip somewhat on Ellen’s shoulder. “I am afraid, my dear, that you are going to have to marry the man.”
Ellen shook her head. “No, I cannot. Besides, I am not even sure that he intends to go in search of Father as he said. I cannot believe a single word that comes out of that man’s mouth. I am to be shamed, just as he intended.”
Her mother sniffed haughtily. “You need not worry, my dear. Your father will make very sure that Lord Hartley fulfils his duty as he ought. There will be no stain to your reputation; we will make sure of it.”
“But I do not want to marry him,” Ellen whispered brokenly. “Mama, I do not care for him. He will cause me nothing but pain and grief, I am sure of it. He has taken me in once already and has betrayed me in the worst possible way. How could I spend my life with a man who tried to capture me simply to win a bet? It is out of the question!”
Her mother sighed heavily and got to her feet, beginning to pace up and down the room. “Ellen, listen to me. You must dry your tears and refresh your face. When we enter the ballroom again, you are to hold your head high and smile, as though nothing has gone on. I trust that Lady Fitzgerald will do as she has said and ensure that no word of what occurred goes through the ton. I know her by reputation only, you see, and her word is practically law amongst the beau monde. Lord Hartley will announce your engagement in the paper tomorrow evening, and all will be well. In time, I am sure, you will find a way to endure living with him, although it is not what I would have wished for you, my dear. I would have wished for you to have a life of love and affection instead of a life of simple endurance and tolerance.”
Ellen, seeing that there was no way out of this scenario, had to simply accept what her mother was saying, her heart tearing into small pieces.
“Do not fear, my love,” her mother continued softly. “We will find a way through. Lord Hartley will have to do all that your father asks or be called out for his behavior. Now, sit here and let me go and speak with him before we come back to fetch you. Do as I ask and dry your tears, my dear. None of the other guests must suspect that you have been crying, or else rumors will start flying about all over the place, and we simply cannot have that now, can we?”
The kindness and sympathy in her eyes made Ellen want to weep all over again. She knew that this was a terrible situation to have found herself in, berating herself for what she had allowed Lord Hartley to do, angry that she had been the one to give in to her foolish desires and kiss him when she ought not to have done anything of the kind. Her mother could never know, or else she would be even more disappointed in Ellen, more disappointed than she was at the moment.
“Very well, Mama,” she whispered, as her mother pressed her shoulder gently. “I will do as you ask.”
“That is the way,” her mother replied with a soft smile. “Now stay here. I will be back presently.”
Ellen was forced to remain the room alone, her heart quailing at the realization she was to marry the man who had tricked her in the worst way possible. He was not a gentleman; he was not a reformed rogue; he was just as he always had been. Whilst Ellen knew that her mother was right – her father would not allow Lord Hartley to escape from matrimony, the thought brought her no pleasure. Instead, it added to her upset and shame, wondering how she was ever to find a way forward with such a man as Lord Hartley.
The door opened behind her and, thinking it was her mother returning, Ellen did not look around. “Did you speak to Papa?” she asked hoarsely. “What did he say?”
“I did speak to your father.”
Stumbling out of her chair, Ellen turned around and pointed one shaking finger at Lord Hartley. “Leave this instant,” she said, not wanting to be anywhere near him. “I have nothing to say to you. I do not want your company, Lord Hartley, not after what you have done.”
The look in his eyes was one of pain, but Ellen ignored it entirely, wishing she could run from the room but knowing she could not.
“Your father is speaking to your mother at this very moment, and I asked his permission to talk to you privately for a few minutes,” he said in an almost humble manner. “Lady Ellen, I cannot tell you how sorry I am for what has occurred.”
“What utter rot!” she shouted, her voice ringing across the room, as she stared at him in disbelief. “I know you do not care for me one jot! You were simply using me to try and win a bet with your friend, and now that it has gone awry, you find that you are forced into a position you never expected. You may try and continue to play the reformed gentleman, Lord Hartley, but I tell you now that I do not believe it. I was a fool to believe you the first time. I will not give you my trust again.”
There was a short silence. Lord Hartley regarded her carefully for a time, before sitting forward, putting his head in his hands and letting out a long, slow breath. Ellen, who was caught between upset and sheer fury, did not know what to say or do, her entire body trembling as she watched him.
“There is more I wish to say to you, but now is not the time, it seems,” Lord Hartley said presently, lifting his face toward her again. “I can understand entirely why you will not accept anything I have to say, and I do not hold it against you in the least. I doubt you will ever be able to forgive me, and I will carry that burden for as long as I live.”
He got to his feet, his eyes filled with something like sorrow – and it was that look that gave Ellen pause.
“Your father has made things very clear,” he said, his hands now held behind his back. “The notice of our engagement will be in the papers tomorrow, and the banns called within a month’s time. There is no rumor or gossip about you as yet, and I will do all I can to ensure that Lord Morton keeps his mouth shut about the matter.” A trace of anger flitted across his expression, as though he were truly upset with his friend. That, at least, Ellen could understand, for it was quite clear that Lord Hartley had never had any intention of wedding her. Had Lord Morton been even a trifle quieter, then this might not have occurred. Of course, she would have felt as betrayed as she did, knowing that Lord Hartley had tricked her into winning a ridiculous bet with his friend, but there would be no hasty engagement, no wedding to think of. She might still be free, albeit ashamed of what she had allowed to occur but free nonetheless.
“You have trapped yourself as well as me,” she whispered, slumping into a chair, as her anger turned to despondency. “I cannot think of marrying you, not when I know what you have done.”
“And I am sorry for it, even though I know you will not accept that from me,” he said quietly. “I will be the best husband I can be to you, Lady Ellen, in an attempt to make up for my sins toward you. I know it does not mean all that much after what I have done, but it is the only thing I can offer to you.” He bowed toward her and kept his head low as he rose, either unable or unwilling to look at her. “I shall leave you now,” he said quietly. “Do forgive me, Lady Ellen. I shall call upon you in a few days’ time.”
He walked from the room and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone once more. Ellen could not speak, and she could barely think about what he had said. There had been a look in his eyes that told her he was truly sorry for what had occurred, but that did not mean he felt anything true for what he had done to her. It was simply a sorrow for himself, for the fact that he would have to marry now, when he had never had an
y intention of doing such a thing.
She could not allow herself to be taken in for a second time. She was a fool to even think that he might be genuine in his sorrow over what had occurred. He was a trickster, a rogue, a rake, a scoundrel – and now the man she was to call husband.
Ellen had never felt more alone in her life.
12
George could not quite believe that he was now to marry Lady Ellen. The moment Lord Morton had opened his mouth, George had known that it was all about to go horribly awry. Lord Morton was never one to be silent when he was in his cups.
Closing the door softly behind him, George paused and leaned back against it for a moment, aware of the heaviness in his heart. This had not turned out as he had intended. He had not ever thought he would find himself engaged and certainly not to the lovely Lady Ellen.
The pain in her eyes when she had looked at him had almost been too much to bear. He had not been able to look at her, dragging his eyes away and burying his gaze to the floor. What on earth had he done?
Groaning, George dragged himself away from the room that held Lady Ellen and wandered slowly along the balcony, thinking to hide himself in the shadows for a time. She had cried that he had not truly been the reformed character he had been pretending to be but, the truth was, that George knew he had begun to change. When it had come to walking with her outside, he had not wanted to take her, worried that Lord Morton would follow, and it had only been the sight of a great many other guests that had pushed him into stepping into the cool night air. Once outside, it had been her closeness, her warmth toward him, that had made him forget about what it was he had to say. When she had turned toward him, her softness pressed lightly against his, he had been quite unable to prevent himself from doing the one thing he knew he should not.
It had all gone wrong from there.
If only he had not been so weak. If only he had not allowed his desire to overcome his better judgement. But she had been so warm and so soft that he had been entirely unable to turn away.
