Embracing Ashberry

by Serenity Everton

  Edward's eyes flashed, but he held his temper, a trait Ashberry reluctantly admired while dutifully ignoring the red flush that appeared on the younger man's neck. Still, Edward's words demonstrated his naiveté with the art of sparring that both Ashberry and Whitney practiced daily. "I knew, quite soon, that my intentions toward your sister were perfectly honorable," he finally returned bitingly.

  However honorable Edward's intentions had been, Ashberry knew that the young man had thrown down a gauntlet Ashberry couldn't ignore. The marquess looked directly to Lord Whitney, who was quite aware of Edward's unintended challenge and had nearly blanched at Edward's audacious mistake.

  Still, Whitney seemed unwilling or unable to find the words to relieve Ashberry of the burden Edward placed on him. Apparently, Ashberry thought to himself, Whitney believed that Ashberry would apologize and withdraw, though that course of action was actually the furthest from the marquess' mind. The only remaining question was how he would react to Ashberry's reply. The marquess was not nearly so confident to think that Whitney would leap for joy to find his daughter clearly in a peer's sights.

  Ashberry sighed mentally though practice kept his face perfectly impassive. He set his drink down on the table beside him and crossed his arms, his eyes meeting Edward's steadily, his words hard with censure. "I had planned to keep my own intentions to myself a while longer and court your sister properly until after you and Charlotte were married, to determine if we would truly suit, but your accusation leaves me with no choice but to make my interest known now. I intend to seek your sister's hand."

  Dead silence reigned in the study as Ashberry turned toward the baron, ignoring the flicker of respect that Edward couldn't quite hide from his face. Ashberry wondered instantly if perhaps Edward had known precisely what he was doing, but he shoved the thought away for later consideration. At the moment, the thoughts of the girl's father were of primary importance. Whitney's stony gaze was not unexpected. He was obviously not going to throw his daughter's welfare out the window and welcome Ashberry to the family, but rejecting the marquess outright would be beyond gauche.

  Whitney held up his hand to indicate that Edward should be silent. Finally, he replied, his words carrying a great burden that Ashberry understood more than he could allow the baron to know. "I am relieved to know that you are not playing my daughter's affections. However, I am not certain she would welcome a suit from any man, even an honorable peer of your rank. She has no plans to marry—anyone."

  Ashberry had no intention of forcing Whitney to explain why his daughter would refuse. He was quite conscious of the man's careful wording. The man did not wish to alienate a richer and more powerful influence in England, not to mention an in-law and political ally. Instead, he focused on the opening Whitney had left by presenting Ellie's marital status as her own choice.

  "Perhaps, then, we might find a way to ascertain if Miss Whitney would be interested in exploring such a liaison."

  Whitney pursed his lips. "To be unstintingly blunt, I am not convinced she would make a good wife for you, Ashberry. My daughter is not at all interested in society or politics, in entertaining, or even in London. We planned to stay only until Edward is settled and then return to Cornwall with her. She did not wish to stay here."

  The marquess shrugged negligently. "Frankly, Whitney, I abhor London. Like you, I stay here only until Charlotte is settled. Then I plan to return north to the family estates." Ashberry paused and dared to add, "I would gladly take my bride with me if she were not averse to a short engagement."

  His opposition could make no additional objections without violating his daughter's secrets or insulting the marquess. "I will speak to Lady Whitney and my daughter before giving any permission for you to call," he allowed only.

  The marquess nodded. "Then I will excuse myself. You know where to find me."

  "Of course," Whitney sighed. He said nothing until he heard the door close on the marquess. Edward was slumped in a chair, his eyes focused blindly on a blank wall across the room. The baron looked at his son carefully, avoiding any mention of the words that had brought Ashberry's offer to the floor. Instead, he spoke harshly. "You will not speak a word of this to anyone, not even your mother," he ordered uncompromisingly. With no other words, he left the room. Behind him, silence was the only reply.

  * * * *

  Ellie could say nothing. She only stared out the window into the small garden beside the house. "I never thought I would have to choose between being a wealthy marchioness or a comfortable, lonely spinster," she finally sighed. "Most people would wonder why Papa hasn't ordered the champagne and locked the marquess in a room until he signed the contracts and had an appointment with a bishop." She laughed shortly. "And we're talking about refusing him?"

  "You don't have to decide now, darling," her mother said. "The marquess said he wished to call on you, not elope."

  Whitney shook his head ruefully. "I hesitate to deny him permission to call, for it would require a greater explanation of my reasons. He is unquestionably suitable to even a duke's family. It would be easier, I believe, to allow him to call and for Ellie to conclude that they would not suit. You should know Ellie—he wishes to return to Cumbria just after Christmas with his bride. A short courtship is thus necessary. He has reason to expect an even shorter engagement; there is no reason to maintain a long engagement given his age and Ellie's seclusion, not to mention our common tendencies toward country life."

  Ellie swallowed heavily. "It would be the wise thing to do," she finally said. "Good for the family, especially Edward and Charlotte. What girl in her right mind would turn it down?"

  Lady Whitney sighed. "You could, Ellie, and we want you to if the thought ... makes you even a little uncomfortable."

  "I would have to tell him, you know," she finally said. "I cannot hide the scars, nor explain them away as an accident."

  The lady's answer was quiet, resigned. "But you should not be ashamed. You have done nothing wrong, Ellie."

  Her papa did not bother to restrain himself from snorting. "It would be nearly impossible to hide such things from a new husband, especially one such as the marquess." He sighed and paced across the room, repeating a logic he had used over and over during the last three years. "And yet she cannot tell him. If she is honest before the marriage, he will beg out of the engagement and embarrass all of us. Even worse, we will not be able to guarantee the story would not become public knowledge. If she waits until after the wedding, and he then discovers deceit, he could annul the marriage and the family would still be shamed, for his reasons would be declared in the courts. I see no way for her to behave honorably without simply deciding they would not fare well together—the distance between his estates and ours provides a ready-made reason, as the two of you are notably close. We've discussed this issue in detail before; marriage is essentially impossible. She must refuse, though I fear the marquess will consider it a personal insult. I have brought the matter to both of you only to see if you can find some acceptable way to decline without forcing Ellie through the trauma of a doomed courtship, not to discuss its merits."

  Silence reigned in the room for many long minutes, until Ellie replied, her voice shaky. Despite the sudden and unexpected resurrection of her long ago dreams, she well knew that appeasing her father's outrage had to be her first priority at the moment. "You are probably right, Papa, but I believe it would be best if I am the one who determines how I answer the marquess' proposal. I hardly think he's the type to respond well to a refusal delivered through the auspices of my father—what if he took it upon himself to find out why?" She sighed. "Obviously, he hasn't yet because he came to you, but if he knows my age, he must have wondered."

  After a moment, Lady Whitney interjected thoughtfully, "All that your papa has said makes sense for most situations we considered, but Ashberry might be the exception in one way. I cannot conceive that Ashberry would drag the family through the courts should he discover the truth after your marriage—doing so would
not only shame our family but also Charlotte."

  Startled by her logic, Whitney met her eyes, his jaw tightening. "Are you suggesting we sacrifice Ellie's mental and physical health, then, and take such a risk?" he asked grimly. "He might not drag her through the courts, but he could send her away from his house, confine her, even punish her ... we do not know him that well."

  Ellie's mother shook her head. "I would hardly offer my own daughter up on a sacrificial altar. We have been careful, you know, to always be discreet. When anyone has inquired directly, the answer is always the same: Ellie, unfortunately, you are not in the best of health and we do not think it would be wise to subject you to the stress of the ballroom and soiree. However," she paused firmly, looking at her husband, "Such an excuse can only take us so far, which is why we've planned to leave London as soon as Edward and Charlotte are able to manage on their own."

  Clearing her throat, Lady Whitney turned to her daughter. "You must, Ellie, use your best judgment—if you truly do not suit, he will know it as well and accept your word. If not, you must somehow satisfy him without arousing his curiosity—he seems to me to be the type of man who would not hesitate to interfere if he thought your ... antipathy towards marriage might somehow be anything other than a dislike of him. Appealing to your health might be a last option to consider."

  Ellie nodded, her face outwardly composed. As usual, her father thought her incapable of even the most innocent relationship while her mother invested her with maturity, self-assurance and manipulative powers Ellie wasn't quite certain she had.

  In a quiet voice, she asked to excuse herself, relieved when her father nodded. "If you don't mind, I may go to St. Stephen's."

  Her parents said nothing—a response she knew was resigned acceptance. Ellie left the room, her heart still beating fast and her thoughts muddled. Behind her, the voices of her mother and father resumed, her father impatient as always, her mother again with unimpaired calm. She moved without haste, but deliberately, calling for the carriage and finding a cloak to pull around her before summoning a maid as company.

  By the time the carriage pulled up in front of the chapel, Ellie was certain she was right; it was no surprise to find the marquess seated in a pew near the middle of the church. Without a second thought, she slid into the pew beside him.

  * * * *

  "You could use my father's pew," she whispered.

  She was not too close to be improper, but Ashberry could barely fathom her presence beside him, let alone her words. To have her so close physically, and yet so far away in all the ways he wished to know her, was agonizing. He managed to nod, wondering as he did if Whitney had yet discussed the thing with his daughter. Only a few hours had passed, but he had felt drawn here to St. Stephen's for comfort.

  "There is no need. You are sitting in mine." The coin had been well spent, Ashberry told himself. If he could convince Ella Whitney to become his wife, she would still wish to come here when they visited London.

  She answered his unasked question. "I find I am faced with a ... momentous decision, my lord."

  Ashberry dared not look at the girl. He lifted his head in time to see the rector enter the chapel, look directly at him and then Ella, and then discreetly turn his back to them, kneeling at the altar in prayer. He whispered back, his voice deep and quiet. "May I be of assistance?" He refused suddenly to consider any outcome but marriage as an urgent and unfamiliar surge of possessiveness surged inside him—the bravery and intelligence Ella Whitney had demonstrated in coming to the church and taking the seat beside him proved that she was more courageous than he had dared imagine.

  Ellie restrained the urge to laugh but then bit her lip as a surge of gratefulness swept her. He knew of what she spoke, and yet he would allow her to speak in her own time and fashion. "I suppose you could," she said gently, "If you were overbearing or harsh, you could make the thing much easier to refuse."

  Ashberry released a long, slow breath in an effort to control his incredible emotions. He had never imagined he would desire a bride who might be free, and even encouraged, to refuse his title and fortune. Men with his rank and wealth were not taught to be relieved when a young lady accepted an offer; they chose their brides and expected eager cooperation from both the girl and her family in return. "Such behavior on my part would be foolish," he murmured. "I do not wish for you to refuse."

  "I cannot consider your suggestion seriously, my lord. You made it without ... without knowing things about me that you should know." Ellie's voice was trembling, and Ashberry felt his gut tighten. She did not wish to deceive him. "Things ... things you should have known before you even thought of me. Things ... things that keep me away from the fashionable parties and balls where so many others find their mates." Ellie stumbled to a halt, but continued doggedly after only a moment. "Papa ... Papa says that you mustn't discover these secrets, but I cannot even consider your offer unless you know."

  Ashberry drew a deep breath, astonished by his own reaction—now that he knew of her outer courage and inner will, he felt as if he was being consumed by an unfamiliar emotion he hardly could even describe. He dared a quick look toward her. She was staring blindly at the floor, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. He immediately identified the emotion she struggled with as agony.

  He rested his hands on either side of his thighs, gripping the edge of the pew. He was silent for several moments, until he was able to form a sensible reply. "Miss Whitney, you do not know me well. I cannot force you to believe that I will keep your confidences but I do ask that you permit me enough time in your company to establish that I will."

  Ellie looked at him then. "My lord, your presence here gives me hope, hope that I will find the courage I need. You haven't yet withdrawn your offer despite the opportunity I just gave you, and I thank you for that."

  Ashberry returned her now steady gaze. He smiled gently and slid his hand across the pew to gently brush the back of her gloved fingers. "Although I intended to spend more time with you before I declared myself, I do not regret that I was obliged to make my desires known early. I hope it is a comfort to you that I am not indulging in idle flirtations while I remain in London." Pulling his hand away, he looked to Ellie as she turned her head slightly to him. "I will try to be patient, Ella, but now that the words have been said and I see how courageous you are, I find I am even more desirous to see you as my bride." He watched her eyes widen for a moment before adding, "I'll be by mid-morning to take you driving in the park. Take what time you need to find the words you are seeking, Ella. I will not change my mind."

  He was gone before Ellie could recover enough to even agree. However, his use of her Christian name had contained his unmistakable message. With a sudden shortness of breath that had nothing to do with fear, Ellie clenched her hands in her lap and bowed her head, attempting to muddle through the rush of emotions she was experiencing. Still, the thousand questions and images flitting through her brain could not be channeled or organized even in that sacred building.

  Mid-morning had already arrived by the time Ellie rushed into the library. She and her mother had spent an endless amount of time choosing what Ellie would wear for her drive in the park. Eventually, Lady Whitney had conceded to Ellie's own choice, a delicious dark green and white striped morning gown with Ellie's matching evergreen pelisse. Now though, Ellie was nearly desperate as she sought her eldest sibling. Edward was there, as Ellie expected, and she rushed to his side. "Edward," she asked anxiously, "You must advise me, and quickly."

  Edward set away his account books for the family's Jamaican tea plantations and carefully searched his sister's distressed eyes. "Are you sure you wish for my advice?" he asked cautiously.

  Ellie sighed. "Not about that," she denied hurriedly, "But it's related. Mama says that the marquess will come in his phaeton. She says that I may not take Jane, for there will be no comfortable place for her. But if I do not, I will be sending the marquess a clear message that I intend to say yes, since we will be alone wi
th only his groom and in Hyde Park, of all places. I am not convinced it is the best thing." She stopped and then added softly, "Papa would be furious if he discovered it and even more outraged if he knew Mama had maneuvered it by forbidding me to take a maid."

  Her brother shook his head. "Ah, Ellie, you are being pulled in all directions, are you not? I wish, I wish I could take the burden from you, but I'm afraid I cannot let my own dreams for you get in the way of managing the present." He smiled then. "Fortunately for you, Ashberry has had some foresight. He sent me a note this morning asking if Charlotte and I would accompany you. She will be coming with her brother presently and my—our, Charlotte and I's—new open coach is already sitting out front, waiting, complete with Papa's required footman to act as our coachman."

  Ellie smiled in relief, hugging her brother impulsively. "Thank you," she exclaimed. More seriously, then, she added, "Edward, dear, I would not ask you to interfere, for the choice is impossible. You cannot disobey Papa and you cannot disagree with Mama, so it is best to simply not enter in the debate. I wish I could do the same."

  Edward nodded, standing up and taking his sister's arm. "Come Ellie, let's walk in the garden while we wait." He led her outside the library doors and into the small garden beside the house that extended to the kitchen court in the rear. "Papa and Mama both have their spies indoors, as you know," he said softly. "And I wished to give you a word without it being passed along."

  They strolled through the barren garden together, and Ellie was silent, knowing her brother would speak in his own time. He did, only a few moments later, for the air was cold and he had come outside without his cloak. "You are, Ellie, the bravest person I have ever known and probably ever will know. Despite all that has happened to you, you are not bitter inside and you always have a smile for Richard and John and I. Until this week, it has always been easy for you to please both Mama and Papa at the same time, for they blamed themselves, particularly Mama, for what happened at home and were both ever so happy as you've gotten better."