by Jane Lark
He felt Ellen being drawn to the animal as her hand slipped from his. “Edward, she’s beautiful.” Her voice was quiet and reverent, her eyes on the mare, glittering with childlike want, she pressed her palm against the horse’s cheek. It turned its head into her hand.
He’d known when they left London she had an instinctive or excellent knowledge of horses and now it was proven again as she seemed to immediately connect with the mare. Her gaze sparkled with uncontrolled pleasure. Whatever had made her uncomfortable here had clearly slipped from her mind on sight of the mare. After a moment she turned to look back at him.
“You’ve bought her for me?” she said, her voice full of wonder.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and rested a hand on her hip, patting the mare with the other. “She’s a wedding gift. I knew you would appreciate her.”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, her voice broke, but then she continued on a whisper, for his ears only, “I’ve not had a horse since I was young. Thank you. I’m truly touched. You’ve done too much for me, for us, far more than I can ever repay. I have nothing to give you.”
Pulling her closer to his side, her buttock brushing his hip, he bent and kissed her temple, then whispered back, “I have you and John. There’s no debt Ellen.” Then more loudly he added, “I’m glad you like her.”
“She is to your satisfaction?” Forth asked from behind them.
Ellen jumped and moved away, running her hand over the mare’s winter-coat as Edward’s fell to his side. She was clearly uncomfortable with showing any intimacy before his friends. He wouldn’t needlessly disturb her. But the memory of watching her intimacy with Gainsborough in the club that last night suddenly thrust into his thoughts. He threw it aside, refusing to let it haunt him. He did not wish to remember it. Yet the memory made him realize dozens of moments like that must be scored into her mind. He felt cold for a moment, unable and unwilling to imagine all she’d endured.
“Yes, she’s wonderful,” she answered Forth, then looked back. “Has she got a name?”
“Pearl,” Forth responded.
“Pearl,” Ellen tested the name on her tongue. “It suits her.” She turned her attention back to the mare and spoke as if she truly thought the animal could reply. “We are going to be firm friends you and I, Pearl.”
Discarding his disturbing thoughts, Edward laughed as the horse whickered. As though the damn thing could really understand and talk back.
“What a match,” Casper commented, as John called from across the courtyard.
“Papa, Mama, look!” Edward looked back at John. He was rising and falling in a neat trot, riding in circles as the pony was held on a lead rein. Perhaps Ellen’s talent was instinct for the boy was equally blessed. Either that or he was extremely used to horses too, which Edward doubted would have occurred at the school. No, the boy was like a duck to water.
“You are an excellent horseman, John!” he complimented, lifting his hand in acknowledgement of the boy. “I’m impressed!”
A broad proud grin lodged on John’s face.
Edward looked back at his friend. “Casper, can you have the horses brought over later? We should be going really.” Turning back to his new son, he added, “Then we can go riding tomorrow morning, John! If you’d like to?”
“Oh yes!” John stopped the horse easily, swung his leg across the saddle and jumped down. A move it looked as though he had done at least a thousand times before. Then the boy ran the distance from his pony and launched himself at Edward, hugging his waist. “Thank you, Papa.”
His hands settling to return the embrace, Edward felt his heart clench. “You are very welcome, John.” I love my son, he realized in answer, just as much as I love my wife.
“We are both very grateful. Thank you, Edward.” Ellen’s voice came from beside him.
“It’s nothing,” Edward responded as he turned to receive her words and John pulled away, but seeing her cloaked look had returned to shadow her eyes he left his response there.
“Should we get back?”
His brow furrowed at the note of censure in her voice. Though he agreed, “Yes,” and smiled to bolster her up, wondering again what was going on as Ellen’s fingers slipped about his elbow.
She gave him a sharp look, her eyes darting to the Forths, he assumed to remind him of their audience. She must have seen the question in his eyes.
Broadening his smile, developing his own mask, he turned back to face his friends just as Julie moved forward to say her goodbyes, offering her customary parting hug. He bent a little to receive it and bestowed a kiss on her cheek, his hands sensitively gripping her upper arms before he let her go and she passed on to Ellen. Forth offered his hand and Edward shook it.
“May I call on you one day this week?” Julie asked of Ellen.
“If you wish. Please send word when you will call. Thank you for tea.” Ellen’s polite, clipped words implied it was the last thing she wished.
“You are welcome, Ellen,” Julie responded, her voice infused with warmth. Of course Ellen wouldn’t know the woman was desperate to be her friend, but Edward did. “And I hope you will call on us, often.” Julie leaned forward and kissed Ellen’s cheek. Ellen stiffened. He knew Ellen was uncomfortable, but he also knew Julie was suppressing her instinct to embrace Ellen.
“Come, we will walk with you and wave goodbye,” Julie stated when she pulled away, casting Edward a look that said, what have I done. He smiled in apology and shrugged. He hadn’t a clue.
Smiling brightly, and Edward guessed falsely, Julie turned to Casper.
Ellen had them all dissembling now.
As he walked arm in arm with Ellen, Julie and Casper beside them, Edward discussed livestock to avoid silence. When they reached the curricle, he thanked his friends again, as did Ellen and John and then they parted.
On the way home Ellen spoke not a word, while John chatted constantly about his pony.
Chapter Nine
Edward watched Ellen step out of John’s bedchamber beside the nursery and pull the door shut quietly. “Is he settled?” She jumped.
Ellen had escaped the dinner table to take John up to bed while he was drinking his port. He’d followed because he feared she was avoiding him.
She’d been uncommunicative all afternoon, claiming a headache and retiring to bed, leaving John in Edward’s company.
He had entertained the boy with a game of backgammon and Ellen had rejoined them for dinner, but she’d hardly talked.
He hadn’t a clue what he’d done to deserve her cold shoulder. He wanted to know.
“Yes.” Her gaze fell away from him as she moved to pass him, showing no inclination to explain her ill-mood.
Exasperated, his temper on the verge of breaking, Edward touched her arm to stop her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She pulled her arm free. But the note in her voice told him if he hadn’t already known, it was something.
Lowering his voice to a whisper John would not hear through the door, determined not to lose his temper, Edward responded. “Ellen, do not lie to me, I’m not a fool. Your manner has been different all afternoon. You’ve hardly spoken to me. Something is wrong. I won’t know what it is unless you tell me.”
Her pale blue eyes, swept up to his, in a look that clearly stated he was out of favour yet her words again defied him. “If there was anything I wished to say to you I would have spoken of it.”
“So that is it then, I am to be excluded from what is really going on in here.” His index finger touched her temple. Her eyelids fell, cloaking her response, her eyelashes fanning across the white skin of her cheek, so black.
She was a woman of contrasts, and all those contrasts were the things that made her beautiful, pale skin, ebony hair, black lashes framing pale eyes, and beneath her hard shell, a soft heart. These were all the things that made him love her. He brushed the pad of his thumb across her closed eyelid his fingers against her cheek. “Tell me. We cannot liv
e together if you will not discuss things openly with me? Don’t throw me scraps of how you feel. Don’t make me beg.”
Her eyelids lifted, her emotion clear now—anger. Her hand knocking his aside, she took a deep breath, as though she’d not breathed for hours. “Yesterday you offered me choice and then again you did not consult me.” Her voice was a whisper, but it was harsh and bitter with resentment.
“Ellen?”
“Did you not even think to ask me before you took me to meet your friends?”
On the defensive, the volume of his voice increased. “I thought you would welcome the friendship of another woman. Julie is the easiest, most welcoming woman I have ever met but you managed to insult her. I never thought for one moment that you would not like her. No one dislikes her!”
“The problem is, Edward, you do not think!” Her voice rose too; her anger now equally audible. “Do you not realize what that poor woman would think if she knew the truth? Or your friend, Lord Forth? They would be outraged, disgusted, if they found out you had brought a whore into their home—to socialise. He would never speak to you again! If Lady Forth passed me in the street and knew who, or what, I am, she would cross the road to walk about me! They would not want me sitting in their drawing-room drinking tea!” The breath she stopped to take dragged into her lungs, pushing her breasts tighter against her bodice. She was shaking.
Her pale crystal eyes sparking in the low candlelight of the narrow hall, she continued, “I know I accepted your offer. Perhaps I was wrong to do so. But you cannot forget who I am, what I am, Edward.”
The thrust of her words cut into him like a knife and in answer his blood instantly boiled, his temper soaring. She moved to turn away, that instinctive desperate reaction he’d seen her have to anger, he caught her arm, he was not letting her walk away with her words of self-condemnation ringing in his ears. “What you are, Ellen, is my wife! And the sooner you remember it and stop setting yourself down the better!”
“Mama, is something wrong?” Edward’s gaze spun from Ellen to John. He was on the landing, dressed in his nightshirt. Letting Ellen’s arm go instantly, Edward felt guilty, he’d no idea how much John knew or had heard. Ellen was obviously concerned, no beyond that, bloody mortified, as she rushed to turn John about. Edward felt even worse. No matter that it was her lack of self-worth that was the issue. He recalled his earlier thoughts, his memory of that last night in the club. One memory haunted him, two when he thought of her bruises. Hundreds not dozens must haunt her. No wonder she felt like this—unclean. He’d felt unclean to watch it. He did not wish to add to her pain. He’d hurt her emotionally if not physically, and that was hardly likely to improve her opinion of herself, or him.
He had an apology to make.
“Nothing is wrong, John.” He listened to her whispering to the boy as she led him back to bed. “I am sorry we woke you. We were just talking too loudly. You must not mind us. Come on, I shall tuck you back in and then you must get some sleep to have the energy to ride tomorrow.”
Edward moved behind them and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossing over his chest, watching her tuck John in and bend to kiss his forehead.
The look she gave Edward as she came back across the room clearly blamed and chastised him, warning him to hold his peace until they were out of earshot of the child.
“Ellen.” he spoke as she closed the door.
Her eyes narrowing in what appeared impatience, she put a finger to her lips, giving him a similar chiding look to the one she had given to her son when she had corrected his behaviour at Forth’s over the Eton outburst, then whispered, “Downstairs.”
Holding out his hand for her to go first he dutifully followed, his anger dissipating, a smile tugging at his lips. Being treated like a scolded child amused him. At least he could sympathize with his son in future. But when they reached the drawing-room, clicking the door shut, he strode towards her, determined to get the notion out of her head that her past made any difference to their future.
With a deep breath, fixing his eyes on the woman who defiantly stood before him—Ellen, buried deep behind her defensive shell—he sought for the words that would convince her.
He understood her reason for being upset, he was no longer angry, but he was not going to continue to let her belittle herself. And her hard as rock expression said she was refusing him access to the pain hidden beneath it.
A month ago, he’d not have thought he could possess the strength of feeling stirring in his chest.
He shrugged, expressing his inability. Where to begin? How to shift her perspective? “As I said, Ellen, what you are, is my wife. Nothing more. Nothing less.” He willed her to believe it, putting all the love he had for her in his voice and his gaze. “Forget the past. I will not allow anyone to reject you. I shan’t publish it, but if people find out about your history, so be it. No one is without fault. I respect and love you. I don’t care what others think.”
She turned away, her palm pressing to her midriff.
Unrelenting he pushed on, refusing to let her escape this, he had to make her face it, but his tone gentled a little as he continued, his voice understanding, but insistent. “You told me the very good reasons that left you where you were, but whether it was your choice or not is no one else’s business. Let people think what they like, Ellen. You have me now, and I think you wholly worthy of befriending my friends. I know them far better than you and I happen to think that my friends care enough for me to like who I love, regardless. Even if Julie knew your past she would not cut you, I would bet my life on it.” The assertiveness suddenly fell from his voice, as she turned back to him looking lost. Then she was in his embrace, her slim arms enfolding his ribs, holding him tightly, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, her unsteady breath and her soft hair caressing the skin of his jaw.
He kissed the crown of her head, whispering to her hair. “I will hear no more of this self-judgement, Ellen.”
And now she cried. Good, perhaps she needed cleansing.
He stroked her hair for a moment, then picked her up and moved to a chair, sitting her on his lap and enfolding her in his love, in his highest esteem, letting her cry it all out.
Crying served no purpose. It solved nothing. But Ellen was so out of control of all of this, tired, exhausted and desperate. The strength she’d held on to for years, was worn down to the very marrow of her bones. Since Edward had broken the ice about her heart and unleashed her emotions, she seemed unable to hold them back anymore. She had seen more of John in the last week than she had for years, but she was terrified of what was to come, of losing him again. Perhaps there could be another week or two before her father came. It was her father who’d opened her eyes to the person she’d become when John was born, holding a metaphorical mirror to her face and making her look at the woman he called a whore. She knew how soiled her life had been, she felt it eating at her soul every day and Edward could never understand that. But what she couldn’t comprehend was that he didn’t even seem to care about what she had been.
Her head still bent to the lapel of his evening coat Ellen whispered, “I have to look into John’s face every day knowing the things I’ve done. How can I teach him right from wrong when one day he may find out the truth and judge me? I do not feel fit to face my own son, let alone look into the faces of your friends, knowing how false I am.”
His palm brushed over her hair, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling in his chest beneath her ear as he spoke. “You are not false, Ellen. The false woman was the one forced to live with Gainsborough. That part of your life is over. You are not alone anymore, sweetheart, you have me.”
His voice was a soft deep caress, his words a balm which touched places inside her she longed to be healed. Hope, was the one word, she longed to wholly claim. She wanted to believe in a future in which John would be hers. She wanted to look at herself in a mirror and not feel disgust.
“I love you, Ellen. You are a good woman, with a good heart, despite ever
ything you have endured, that makes you a better person than most.”
He was her rock. Lifting her head her fingers flattened his crumpled, tear stained lapel. Then his fingers crooked beneath her chin, urging her to lift her head. Her gaze met the glinting dark blue-gray as it caught the candlelight, the onyx circles at their center a mirror which reflected back her pain.
Did he understand after all, had she misjudged him in this too?
“I know I should have spoken to you before I took you to Forth’s now. I understand why you are upset. I’m sorry I did not. You’re right, I do not stop to think of things from your perspective. I promise I shall try to in future, if in return you promise to do something for me—stop judging yourself so harshly? Let us leave the past where it is and move on.” His gaze seemed to reach into her thoughts, waiting for her response, appearing to desperately will her to be happy.
What on earth did I do to deserve you? Instead of speaking this she lifted her chin from his touch and dropped her gaze and her head, focusing her eyes on his lips so she did not have to see the hurt she knew would settle in his eyes. Then she uttered in a broken whisper a thing she hadn’t even known until now had been a burning pain inside her, she had buried it so deep, “I cannot bare it that you saw me with Gainsborough; that you know what I was before; that you watched him touch me that night. I hate knowing you saw me like that. How can I face your friends, when I find it hard to face you, or even my reflection in a mirror? I wish I had met you long ago, before this all began.” Tears welled in her eyes again and tumbled over her lashes.
The hug he gave her in answer was fierce and her face turned into his neck, now soaking his starched cravat, while her arms clung about his shoulders.
The weight of his strong comforting palm fell atop her hair, cradling her head. “Oh darling, how am I going to convince you? I don’t care. You were trapped. It was painful to watch it, but all he ever had of you was your flesh and bone, I know that. If I wondered before how he tied you to him I know now it was through John. He abused you, Ellen, it was not your choice, nor your fault, but if you cannot accept that, how can I help you be free of him. He still has a hold of your thoughts. Forgive yourself. Forget it. It’s finished now. Let your mind be free of it, of him and all the others.”
