Embracing Ashberry

by Serenity Everton

  She took a bite, her eyes still following his, waiting. “Do you know,” he began conversationally, “That I would eat with you every night like this if we could?”

  “We can’t?” she asked after she swallowed. She tried hard not to sound disappointed. Despite her embarrassment, she truly did crave the closeness that had sprung between them in the last days.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Dinner,” he told her, “will include most nights Jefferson, as well as the chaplain. Sometimes Matthew and Scott will join us as well, though all four make a habit of absenting themselves from my presence after the meal. Other nights, there will be guests, of course, from the village or business associates of mine who come to the Stables. Occasionally we will be obliged to make an appearance at neighbors’ houses, particularly over the summer.”

  Ellie nodded. She nearly asked if he had forgotten her first question, but Ashberry continued. “I know you remember the day we were engaged. Did you learn anything about me that day?”

  Her chin trembled. She remembered the protectiveness of his arms, the strength of will he had shown against her father. “I learned that you were strong, so strong, from the way you stood against Papa. Not physically—I knew that already—but inside.”

  The marquess nodded. “Did you know why I was so insistent that we marry, Ellie?” he finally asked.

  She shook her head, nervously fingering her napkin. “I, I thought maybe you felt honor-bound to, after I trusted you. And then I thought about what you said to Papa about me being a good mistress for your home and family.”

  Ashberry was quiet for a few minutes, until he laid his knife on the table and met her eyes. “That’s not why I married you, Ellie dear,” he said quietly. “All those things were true certainly, but they simply added support to something I already knew.” Ellie waited, nearly holding her breath, until he continued. “More than anything, Ellie, I determined to marry you because I could not bear for you to be alone, or even worse in my mind, to belong to someone who didn’t appreciate what an ... extraordinary woman you are.”

  He stood, coming around the table and turning her chair to face him before hunching down in front of her and meeting her eyes. “Since then, I’ve come to understand that compulsion even better. I married you, Ellie, because we were meant to be married, meant to belong to each other, meant to nurture and sustain one another in all of our lives.” His voice, so tender now that Ellie’s fingers instinctively tightened in his hands, lowered to a rough whisper. “I married you so that I could spend my life pleasing you, cherishing you.”

  Ashberry buried her face against her thighs as Ellie’s fingers flitted over his hair. Her voice was shaky. “You, you’re saying that I, I do as you say for the same reasons, because we are supposed to be together?” He didn’t answer, and Ellie’s thumbs traced his ears. “I must,” she whispered. “I mean, I do want to please you, so much that when I look at you I can feel you pulling me toward you, even though we don’t touch.” She swallowed heavily, struggling to ease the tension between them. “I guess that means I have a tendre for you, no?”

  “I hope so,” he kissed the insides of her knees as he spoke ruefully, roughly. “I sure as hell have one for you. And it doesn’t appear to be a state that will go away.” His voice was low, so low she could barely hear the words that made her insides shake, as he persisted. “I understand, Ellie, that you’re growing into our marriage; that it was, in some sense, before you were quite ready. For many good reasons, you’ve been tentative with your trust and your generosity in the last few years and are only now learning how to share it with me and I can’t even tell you how incredible I feel when you look up and smile at me and hold out your arms.”

  Ellie was ready to speak, ready to interrupt and assure, but Ashberry shook his head, resting a finger on her lips even as he held her eyes. She felt her heart flutter, a premonition of how his profession would end washing through her insides, but there was no stopping the gently sloping dam he was tearing down around her, preparing to flood her most cherished defenses.

  His voice was even heavier when he continued. “The changes in you since we’ve met—at least in the way you react to me—are so remarkable that I can hardly take it in at times. I accept quite easily that your feelings for me—for our marriage—are changing every day, because I can see it happening right in front of my eyes. So I want you to know, Ellie, that I will spend my life with you, supporting you, savoring you, treasuring every smile and every frown—not because I reiterated promises to you before a bishop that I had already made silently—but because I love you.”

  SIXTEEN

  Little of notable interest happened over the next six months, except that Ellie found herself growing more devoted to her husband as time passed. The changes inside her were undeniable and the realizations struck at the oddest times, sometimes so strongly that tears would form in her eyes. Whenever he witnessed them, Ashberry was unfailingly tender, though she refused his soft requests to explain why she was upset. Instead, she would cling to him, inhaling the scent that was unmistakably his and draw from his strength to recover and smile gloriously at him.

  At Ashberry Park, life proceeded as nature dictated: snow fell, game was hunted, crops planted, horses mated, the house aired, cleaned and everything refreshed. The gardens were rejuvenated when springtime came and Ellie took the time to meet and speak with every tenant Ashberry had, even charming the wizened old women who stomped around her as she strolled from cottage to cottage. She made regular trips to the village, and under her influence the local baker, blacksmith and seamstress were soon providing London-quality goods that Ellie loyally purchased.

  Around them, everything flourished, as if it was a reflection of their lives together.

  Ellie’s confidence grew as she took on more responsibilities in the great house, where she found Ashberry’s senior staff to be helpful and more than competent. The young marchioness took to spending her mornings, early by design in the country, first in solitude in the master sitting room. Later in the morning room, after the gentlemen in the house had finished their breakfasts, she would meet with servants or callers and dutifully write letters, work in the stillroom and complete any household business.

  Later, after a luncheon shared with whichever steward was in the house, she would visit the music room, playing the grand instrument there and walk in the conservatory or gardens, which were as fabulous as everyone had at first promised—the conservatory was, Ellie decided one day, the most fantastic room she had ever seen. Located at the end of the south loggia and the large assembly rooms, the conservatory was a large two-story room that spanned the entire width of the south wing. The windows reached nearly as high as the expansive ceilings, and inside them, jasmine creepers rose over the walls. In the center of the room, stairs led up to a balcony that extended into the room from the first floor hall and the balcony’s iron railings were draped with rose bushes that were planted in boxes built along the base of the balcony. It was a sunny and warm room, with fragrances at every turn and beautiful fountains interspersed with waist-high planters filled with lush plants and flowers of all varieties were sprinkled throughout the ground floor.

  The long afternoons provided her with plenty of time to call on her neighbors, the villagers and tenants, as well as go on an occasional outing with her husband before she retired to rest before dressing for dinner.

  Jenson, the underbutler who Wendy claimed had been ordered to watch after her, really had received such a command—from Wendy’s father. Ellie discovered quickly that the intense young man, being groomed by Jefferson, Alexander and Ashberry to replace Alexander upon the older man’s retirement, adored the maid to distraction. While she was in London, he had gone to Wendy’s father and asked for permission to address the girl, where he was told he was welcome to her hand if she would give it. Wendy, Ellie understood, hadn’t accepted it just yet, but the outcome was inevitable, given the girl’s blushes and dreamy smiles. Ashberry Park would have a married b
utler one day and Wendy glowed with the promise of it.

  As Ashberry had promised, Ellie spent a significant time in his bed. Indeed, not too many days had passed at Ashberry Park when she discovered that not only was she expected to sleep in it at night, but that he insisted she nap in it too. He had been thoroughly disgusted, when arriving in their rooms one afternoon to ostensibly check on his napping wife, to find her in her own chamber and Wendy in a chair beside the bed, mending.

  She had awoken to find him abruptly sending off the girl and to find herself being ruthlessly stripped of her lawn nightrail. Luckily, her instinct was to curl soothingly against him, or Ellie had often wondered what he would have been tempted to do in his black mood. Instead, her arms had circled him and held tight while he carried her to his bed and tucked her, now naked, under his own coverlet, a warm brick at her feet. He had informed her, in no uncertain terms, that if he found her there again, the bed would disappear from her chamber completely, never to return.

  Ellie never asked, but she did wonder if the bed had any purpose at all, if it was neither for sleeping nor lovemaking, and how removing it would affect her in the least. The brief exposure to Ashberry’s temper, though obviously controlled, was revelation enough for the month of February.

  In London in March, Lady and Lord Whitney signed a contract of separation, although Lady Whitney did not appear in her husband’s presence until his signature was firmly affixed. Supervised by Edward, John and two solicitors, the visit was brief. Neither spoke. Lord Whitney returned to Cornwall shortly thereafter, quitting, he claimed, Society forever. Lady Whitney, finding herself on limited funds without her husband’s bank at her command, set herself up openly at Ashberry House, where the marquess directed his staff to treat her with the utmost consideration. Fields, brusquely dismissed by the retreating Lord Whitney, was immediately procured by John as his general factotum, for the young man was discovering that he was both an ambitious and hard-working member of the Ministry who required a consistent and reliable man to assist him.

  Edward, without his father’s benefactions, began working diligently to provide for his own small household. With only their small incomes to live on and invest, he wisely chose a course that was somewhat conservative, for he was not willing to risk the capital that Ashberry had provided through Charlotte’s dowry. When Ellie heard of his dilemma, she insisted Ashberry entrust to Edward a portion of her settlements that her husband had set aside for her use, and Ellie promised Edward a percentage of any return he provided for her.

  Ashberry also freed a larger sum from Charlotte’s trust for the same purpose, warning the younger man only to use his good judgment and consideration in investing it.

  In April, Caroline wrote that she and Eldenwood were expecting a child in October. They would come to London for the birth, for Caroline had determined to have a physician, her aunt, cousin Sarah and her sister attend her, instead of the gaggle of midwives and village women that would attend a birth at any of Eldenwood’s other residences. In May, Charlotte wrote a similar letter. She and Edward were expecting near the end of November and hoped that Ashberry and Ellie would be in Town for the event. The marquess promised to be present for both births, writing immediately to his sisters, and separately to each of their husbands.

  Whenever a letter came, particularly ones addressed with a masculine hand, Ellie noticed he would still until it was read. He tried not to demonstrate his anxieties, but Ellie came to recognize the relief on his face each time she bled. She made a valiant attempt to put from her mind her own doubts and hopes, but was unable to completely suppress her own dreams. Without discussing it expressly, Ellie and Ashberry both understood children to be a subject that had the potential to disrupt the bond they were forging, and neither had the courage to broach the subject.

  After the grounds thawed and the horses began running in the pastures again, Ellie occasionally visited Ashberry Stables. Once the mares began foaling it seemed to be the only place she could see her husband during the daylight hours. Ellie found it to be a bustle of activity—men in boots, shouts, and a few words that made Ashberry cover her ears with his hands and growl at his men. On Ashberry’s slower days and as spring aged into summer, she and Ashberry would take horses and ride through the wilds of the Park, indulging in afternoon picnics of cheese and wine or simply sitting in the shade of the Castle.

  Loath to end those private hours, he wiled away their time together with stories of times past in the Park, from generations past in the Ashberry family annals to the more recent escapades of a young Stephen Trinity and his siblings. In turn, she told him about Rose Hill, the hothouses of prized and valuable blooms, the shores and the ocean tides, her childhood under the tutelage of Edward and John, and the antics of the young Whitney brood.

  Ashberry often returned to the great house at dusk covered in dirt, hay and the perfume that permeated the barns, but Ellie would always be waiting, rested from her nap, bathed and dressed for dinner. Both would chuckle when she would immediately open the door to his dressing room and indicate his waiting bath. When early summer passed into long, hot days of July and the marquess found himself with more time on his hands, he took Ellie on day-long excursions in the area, taking a light chaise and a picnic and driving wherever she pointed. Together they surveyed the remnants of Ashberry Castle, explored the gardens, visited genteel and not-so-genteel neighbors and even managed to survive the occasional houseguest.

  Ellie quickly came to realize that her husband, despite his business acumen and his acceptance of the necessity for it, detested having overnight guests—and not simply because it deprived him of the evening hours he treasured alone with Ellie, when they played billiards, chess or each other. Most of the visitors, he told her ruefully, were not people he with whom he would care to socialize. Ellie had simply smiled in reply, reminding both that the marquess seemed to not desire to socialize with anyone not welcome in his own bed.

  The marchioness tried, once, to return her five borrowed shillings to Ashberry. He refused the coin, instead claiming his kisses. When they were alone, no matter what the time of day or the risk of discovery, Ellie would find his arms possessively around her and their mouths locked together. Their nights together were filled with raw tenderness, at times blatant need, even possessiveness by both and they lay in the other’s embrace every night with a better understanding of the others’ joys and moods. Ellie never forgot Ashberry’s words from that first night, but he did not repeat them verbatim. Instead, he took to calling her ‘my love’, a clear reminder that did not pressure her into returning the endearment.

  When she ached the most, when his hands burned her and her blood was boiling, she nearly told him so but, Ellie told herself, she couldn’t be sure that what she felt wasn’t simply gratitude mixed with lust. So she remained silent, not trusting her instinct over her deeply ingrained restraint. Love, she knew most decidedly was unconditionally sacrificing, a selfless emotion and what Ellie felt for Ashberry was far from selfless—it was hunger for his touch and her eagerness to hear his voice, possessiveness that he was hers, pride in his masculine physical and mental strength, and even weakness in her knees when she thought of the pleasure he could whirl through her body.

  Ashberry’s solicitor continued to research Lord Whitney’s past, keeping his notes neatly organized on a corner of his desk. The notes grew from a short pile to, with the help of Riley, a fat packet, though Ashberry never requested a summary. The marquess, with his mother-in-law settled safely in Ashberry House and his wife safely at his side, saw no need to pursue the matter until he returned to London.

  Lady Whitney, in Charlotte and Edward’s company, arrived at Ashberry Park in mid-August. The visit was pleasant enough, lasting nearly a month. The marquess had initially frowned at Edward, for allowing his sister to travel ‘in her condition’, he said indignantly, but had retreated when Charlotte made it clear to him that the air in London was more of a danger than the carriage had been. Ellie discreetly assigned
Charlotte and Edward a suite in the guest wing and her mother a suite on the opposite end of the house, and down a floor, from Ashberry and Ellie’s rooms. Ashberry had cringed at Ellie’s innocent mention of Edward and Charlotte’s need for privacy but had agreed with an intent smile when Ellie stated quite vehemently that the lady of the house also required privacy in the nighttime hours from the ears of her mother and brother.

  It was common knowledge in London that Lady Whitney and her husband were not living together, but Ellie's mother assured her daughter that she was still accepted socially, and that her friends had been loyal to a fault. Some had even defied their shocked husbands in order to maintain a connection to the newly scandalous woman. Still, Charlotte and Edward informed Ellie, Lady Whitney seemed more relaxed at Ashberry Park, spending many afternoons getting better acquainted with the local genteel widows and older wives, who gathered at the Chapman house on regular afternoons.

  Lady Whitney was overtly amazed by the close intimacy of Ellie and the marquess, hardly crediting Ellie when the girl told her that the marquess had refused to go to his estate in Somerset without her. He had sent Sebastian from London instead, and later Jefferson.

  At least, Lady Whitney didn’t believe it until she walked into the music room late one morning to find Ellie deep in her husband’s arms, and not suffering from it in the least.

  Curious about other affectionate marriages, Ellie carefully watched Edward and Charlotte together. Charlotte was an attentive wife who was greatly relieved to be free of the burdens of housekeeping—burdens, she told Ellie, that would one day give her wrinkles and gray hair. She confided to Ellie as well that she and Edward were greatly relieved to be alone in the guest wing—for, she said, Edward had worried that Ashberry might overreact if he heard ‘unusual noises in the house at night.’ On another date, and in a more serious tone, Charlotte shared with Ellie that Edward had told her, early one morning after he had held her through an awful bout of morning sickness, about his role in Ellie’s recovery. Ellie had gulped with nervousness, but Charlotte had proved to be supportive and uplifting.