“Then what is love?” she asked seriously. “Those silly novels, as you’ve rightly called them, do not say. You do not say. And I don’t know.” The last sentence was almost sulky with frustration.
Ashberry shook his head. “Ah, Ellie,” he sighed. “There is no easy answer to that question—it is quite a complex emotion and I am still adjusting to it.” He paused, considering quietly before he continued. “You must look deep inside you to find out,” he eventually told her. “Deep down where the need you have to know you belong to me lives inside you, where you acknowledge that you belong in my arms. I think that is where you will find it.”
Ellie sighed. Ashberry didn’t have any more answers for her than anyone else but at least he wasn’t angered by her reticence. She stopped talking then, allowing the warmth of Ashberry’s arms to lull her back to sleep.
* * * *
His wife, Ashberry reflected, had said nothing over the last two weeks about her father’s presence in London, or even another word about the episode in Eldenwood’s carriage. Instead, she had given herself to him with a joy even he could not have anticipated, opening her arms with a smile whenever he approached her and smiling happily each minute they were in each other’s presence. Ashberry now waited even more patiently for a declaration of her love; indeed, he knew he would wait a lifetime if she needed it.
Three days after Caroline’s baby was born, he had brought Ellie to his study, sat her in the chair before the fire and gently kissed her hands.
“I apologize,” he said softly. “For hurting you, Ellie. I wanted to protect you and instead I ended up leaving you in pain for a week.”
Ellie had drawn her hands from his and cradled his face in her hands, leaning forward to kiss him. He had felt the forgiveness in her mouth and had nearly wept. She had not held herself away from him even in those three days but he had seen the hurt and agony in her eyes and wondered frantically how he could erase it, and why he hadn’t seen it over the previous week.
Ashberry had reluctantly admitted that he had been so focused on revenge that he had ceased to focus on his wife. “The next time you think, or know, that I'm excluding you from something so important to you, Ellie,” he asked, “Come to me immediately. I can’t promise I won’t try to protect you, or do as I think best, but ... but I ask that you give me a chance.”
“All right,” she whispered.
He had smiled, relieved, but was displeased to find that she already knew a piece of news Riley had not yet delivered.
“I have to tell you, Stephen, that Papa is in town. I was in the carriage yesterday and we went past the house. The knocker was back on the door.”
Ashberry had stilled, not able to guess if her news was a test or if she simply needed to share it. “And?” he asked softly. “Have you spoken to him?”
“Of course not,” she frowned at him, “I promised you I wouldn’t.”
A promise nearly a year old, he remembered. Overcome again by her astonishing loyalty, he had drawn her close and kissed her. Endlessly. Until Riley had knocked on the door.
Damning the man, Ashberry had waited, flabbergasted, as Riley delivered the same news his wife had just offered. Ashberry had felt reluctantly obliged to share Whitney’s whereabouts with Edward but avoided a discussion of his intentions until that evening two weeks later when he found himself in Edward’s study, where the young man now remained much of the time out of concern for his wife.
Charlotte, confined to the first floor by the doctor, her husband and mother-in-law when Edward was not available to carry her up and down the stairs, was rebellious at best. Edward frequently felt obliged to guard the doors, though he was careful to leave her on the upper floor and remain downstairs when she was in what Ashberry considered a ‘fine temper’. Ellie went from house to house, holding Caroline’s babe with such devotion that Ashberry felt his heart aching with every tender touch of her fingers. He could no longer resist the tenderness that he had long suppressed and began to silently hope for a child—for a girl, his heart told him. An heir did not matter—Ashberry knew he desired most a little angel that followed in her mother’s wake.
“The doctor, thank God,” Edward said wearily, “Says anytime—a few more days at most and Mama agrees.” He sank into his study chair, gulping a drink. “Charlotte is nearly climbing the walls—the only thing that has settled her was Caroline’s visit yesterday.” Caroline had been carried in, and out, by her husband, and deposited on a daybed in Charlotte’s room so the two could converse. “Eldenwood said he could not resist her pleas and finally found a way to indulge Caroline—he has a soft heart for your sister.”
“As do you,” Ashberry said moodily, gazing into the street. Ellie was somewhere in a carriage, between Caroline’s and Charlotte’s, he thought, wondering if she would stop at their own house and find him gone. His own mind was still focused on his wife, on her abundant joy. He wondered anxiously if she was still thinking of their last conversation about love. “Ellie has not seemed interested in seeing your father.”
Edward sobered. “It would not surprise me, Ashberry, if she has driven by the old house out of curiosity, to find if he spends any time there.”
“I discovered where he is hiding during the day—and he is hiding.”
Behind him, Ashberry listened to Edward pour two glasses of brandy. “Where?” the younger man asked simply, handing the marquess a glass.
Ashberry paused. “He is gambling at a hell in Kensington. Manley’s.”
Edward winced. “Has he completely lost his mind?” he slammed down his glass. “Or is simply determined to ruin the barony?”
The little display of temper salved Ashberry’s own anger to the baron, for the moment. He sighed. “No, I think he’s just completely unaware of how’s he’s going,” the older man replied reluctantly. “I did call in a favor or two—Manley’s will not allow him to rack up debt to the house.”
Edward was surprised. “How did you manage that?” he asked.
Ashberry looked uncomfortable, but finally admitted, “My father was an incredible card player. He doubled our fortune at the gaming tables, at least. When he died, he had a positive balance at every gaming hell in London, even the disreputable ones. Manley’s was more than willing to cut your father off if need be—I still hold quite a few markers from them and they do not want me to call them in just now.” A wry smile crossed his face. “And, to be perfectly frank, your father is a very sharp player. According to the proprietors, the other patrons are afraid of him—those who play with him are almost certain to lose over the course of an evening.”
The younger man nodded. “And Pall Mall? Why has he not been to his clubs?”
“According to my sources, he’s been spending a good number of his evenings at Manley’s as well. I assume he does not wish to run into either of us—in addition, the wagers at Manley’s have been much higher than he would find at Watier's or Brook’s. Not enough to endanger your inheritance but still serious.”
“Probably not,” Edward admitted. “Do you suppose he knows that we know about ... his earlier debt?” He paused and then said more slowly, “And why has he come back to town, if not to see us? We know Papa cannot show his face in Parliament or St. James unless we find out about it. And he is going to miss fox season again this year, something he has always enjoyed.”
“An excellent question,” Ashberry murmured. “I’m going to have to talk to him, you know. We can’t let it go on indefinitely.”
Edward shook his head. “I can’t leave Charlotte, Ashberry. She’d never forgive me.”
“I wasn’t planning on chasing him down just yet. I thought we would wait until you could give him news of the babe.” Ashberry sighed. “I still have hope for your father, Edward, though I swear I don’t know why.”
“I don’t know either,” Edward muttered.
Ashberry did not reply. In the street, he watched his carriage pull up and breathed a silent sigh of relief when Edward’s butler helped Ellie down f
rom the coach. He didn’t know why he felt relief, except perhaps that Ellie looked at him, in the window, and smiled delightedly. Even in the dim light on the street, she was golden. Glowing. His heart ached as he nodded, stepping away from the glass.
“Ellie’s here,” he said without pretense, moving to the door.
Edward stopped him. “Ashberry?”
The marquess did not turn around. But he did stop, at least while Edward spoke. “When are you going to tell her?” No question about whether he would, just when.
“I don’t know,” he admitted woodenly before he exited the room.
He did know he had to discover a way, of course. Ashberry was still struggling with the actual process of telling Ellie two nights later about the meeting he wished to engineer when a footman arrived at Ashberry’s front door. The marquess shrugged on his greatcoat even as he sent upstairs for Ellie. “We won’t be here for dinner, Alexander,” he told the butler unnecessarily.
“Of course, my lord,” the man murmured, making his own mental list of changes occurring over the next few days. “Will you go on ahead, or wait for Lady Ashberry?”
“I’ll wait. There’s no need for Benjamin bring the carriage around—we’ll be there for awhile so if someone could just hail a cab for us?”
Ellie hurried. She was still tying her bonnet around her head when she flew down the stairs. “There’s no need to rush, my dear,” Ashberry said calmly, more calmly than he felt. “It will be quite awhile, I’m sure.”
“I know,” Ellie fretted, shrugging on her pelisse, “But I think Edward and Charlotte will need us, you know, especially since Eldenwood won’t let Caroline come until tomorrow.”
Ashberry let her babble on for a few moments, amazed by her nervousness. Had she been like this with Caroline? He realized with chagrin that he didn’t know because he hadn’t been at home when the word came. A small part of his gut found the notion unsettling, that reminder of his deception. Ellie had not scolded him or withheld herself from him in any way but Ashberry remembered the struggle on her face, the sadness that day. He mentally castigated himself during the short journey, surprised at how Ellie’s hands fidgeted in her lap, how pinched her face had become. When they stepped inside the front hall, she disappeared nearly before he had removed her coat, flying up the stairs with an astonishing speed and agility.
It was quite awhile, just as Ashberry predicted. Edward was nearly already drunk when Ashberry arrived, and the marquess was set the task of watering the young man’s drinks even as Charlotte’s uninhibited shrieks ripped through the house at odd and unpredictable intervals. After some hours passed, John arrived, and as dawn neared, Sebastian let himself into the study.
“You know I missed Caroline’s while I was up in Yorkshire,” he told Ashberry ruefully. “She forgave me because it was, after all, an important matter of business but Charlotte would not for I have no reasonable excuse. Even though it means sacrificing the start of the fox hunting, I decided I had better stay in Town.”
Edward gulped down another glass of brandy, this time well weakened, as one of Charlotte’s yelps echoed through the room.
Ashberry winced. “It’s our unfortunate luck that Charlotte’s chamber is just above our heads, Sebastian,” he warned his brother, even as the other man’s face paled.
With some luck, the three men managed to placate Edward’s degenerating mood. At one point, he ran to his wife’s side, only to be dismissed a few minutes later when a labor pain struck and he had literally sunk to the floor. He had been weak-kneed, nearly carried down the stairs by John and Ashberry while Sebastian had remained beside his sister for a few faithful but excruciating minutes more. After that incident, the men relocated to the small conservatory in the back of the house, where few of the noises from the master chambers could be heard.
Dawn had just passed when the older ladies sent Ellie from the room to rest, until she sank beside Ashberry on a wooden garden bench. Laying her head against his shoulder, she slept almost immediately, the exhaustion on her face a clear indication of the turmoil wracking the women. Edward paced back and forth, staring moodily into the gardens, cursing himself and his own weaknesses. “If it’s a boy, I swear to you and God this will be the last one,” he growled to Ashberry.
The older man sighed, shaking his head even as Ellie lifted hers. “Nonsense,” the young marchioness murmured sleepily. “Do not be foolish, Edward. Charlotte would never permit you to behave so abominably to her.” The men chuckled while Ashberry kissed his wife’s temple, mentally reminding himself that she had just endured a most uncomfortable nap.
“I am going to have one of the servants find a bed for you,” he whispered in her ear. “You need more than an hour long nap on a garden bench.”
She did need more than the hour nap, Ellie reflected, allowing herself to be settled onto a bed above stairs by an anxious housemaid. The girl fussed until Ellie allowed her head to loll to the side, feigning sleep. When she slipped from the chamber, Ellie slid her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling, considering. It had been nearly six weeks since she had pleaded her monthly indisposition to Ashberry but there had been that disturbing period where she had nearly made herself ill with anxiety. Biting her lip, Ellie decided to bide her time even more. She had gone five or six weeks without bleeding before and she couldn’t swear, yet, that she was with child.
In the excitement, she wondered if Ashberry had forgotten, if he had somehow dismissed it as caused by the excitement and worry of the last weeks. She couldn't imagine that he had simply decided no longer to count.
Still, Ellie knew she needed a great deal more than the hour, for she could not risk reducing herself to ill health if she was expecting. The labors of Ashberry’s sisters had been traumatic enough for him and she had found herself confronted with a new fear. Even though he was beginning to accept the idea of risking his wife in childbirth, Ellie worried that he would revert to an even more determined position if Charlotte or Caroline fell ill.
Ellie yawned and rolled onto her side, covering her mouth and then her stomach as she considered. It was possible, she told herself fiercely, but she just couldn't be certain. Not yet.
NINETEEN
After sleeping for nearly six hours, Ellie returned to Charlotte's room to find Caroline ensconced on a daybed that had been moved in. Charlotte's pains were more frequent by then but she had begun to gather her strength for the last hours, for Caroline had told her quite bluntly how it would be near the end. Her cries were quieter, more resigned, and Ellie breathed in relief to see the renewed confidence on her mother and Sarah's faces.
The young mother smiled as Ellie came in the room, her face freshly scrubbed. "There you are, Ellie dear," she greeted. The last weeks together had strengthened the bond between the three women and Ellie found it uplifting to be welcomed so completely into the twins' friendship. "I was just telling Charlotte that we have been here nearly three hours. I will have to go soon to feed Shane—Eldenwood insisted we bring in a wet nurse, you know, in case there was a need but I've been resisting actually using her to feed him." She winced as she added, "I had wanted to say goodbye to Aunt Lucy but she's napping as well."
Charlotte waved her hand dismissively as she hunkered down in the bed for a moment of rest. "Aunt Lucy understands, Caroline," she scolded softly. "And you know she'll come see the babe again just as soon as this is over."
"And she rests," Sarah interspersed firmly, her chin squared. All three of the younger woman knew immediately that the elderly cousin would make sure of it, even to the point of appealing to Ashberry and Sebastian. "And it is time for you to go home, Caroline. Besides the babe, there's your own health to watch after—the earl will have my head on a platter if anything should happen to you." Without hesitation, she pulled the bell to call the maids.
Caroline sighed, her eyes on Ellie in a rueful expression. "You see, Ellie, Eldenwood and Sarah organize my life for me now. Childbed is supposed to give you a chance to rest but in our
house it is simply giving others a chance to manage me." She frowned in disgust. “Thank goodness my incarceration only lasts another week.”
Ellie smiled, a gentle smile. "It's difficult, isn't it? Being told what to do as if you're ten years old again?"
Charlotte gritted as another pain passed through her body. It didn't stop her from contributing to the conversation. "I don't know why you submit to it so meekly, Caroline. I will be screaming if Mother Whitney and Edward were as overbearing as Eldenwood is."
Lady Whitney nearly laughed at the comment. "Charlotte, dear, you've been screaming at Edward about it for the last two weeks. It hasn't changed his mind one whit—your brother made too much of an impression." All the women knew what she meant. It was no secret that Ashberry had taken aside both Eldenwood and Edward at different times where he described in great detail what a woman with puerperal fever experienced. Ashberry's words had a powerful impact on the behavior of both men, despite their wife's pleadings.
Caroline sighed. "It is tolerable because I understand, Charlotte, that he's not doing it to be an arrogant oaf or a half-wit. He's being so terribly overbearing because he loves me, you know and knows no other way to protect me, and for that reason I can countenance it." Her lips twitched slightly at the rap on the door. "Though I must admit, I haven't always had the best of attitudes."
Sarah opened the door slightly as Caroline moved slowly to the door, where Ellie saw Eldenwood immediately close his arms around her and lift her against his chest. Eldenwood was a strong, muscular man, despite his gray hair, and Ellie thought for a moment that she saw Caroline’s hands feather appreciatively over his coat as she rested her head contentedly on his shoulder. The moment was fleeting though and quickly the couple disappeared down the stairs and out of Ellie’s sight.
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