by Darcy Burke
“I’ll not leave Louisa here alone yet. Her rage when you leave will be ugly enough to witness; I may be able to calm her somewhat. Once she is settled here, I’ll have the carriage take me to the house. You have been more than kind, Thomas, giving me my own carriage and arranging all this.”
Clarice seemed a different woman, Thomas thought. Yet, what would she have done to conceal Louisa’s terrible secret, if she had been able? Her silence almost cost Ellen’s life, and he could not, would not trust her. He had already assigned a man to ensure neither she nor Louisa would ever find passage back to the mainland without his express authority.
With a last look at Louisa, examining a delicate writing-desk fully fitted out for her with papers, pens and ink—though any letters she sent would never reach their destination, unless it was to him—Thomas nodded.
“Take care, Clarice. If there is anything you ever need—anything at all—I pray you will let me know at once.”
She did not offer an embrace, only inclined her head regally and said a single word.
“Goodbye.”
Chapter 17
Thomas did not hide his return to London. Supposedly, he was arriving back after a frantic attempt to intercept Louisa before reaching Scotland with her lowborn lover, after all. Late that day, a closed carriage would depart the house, and he would tell anyone who asked that Clarice was in it, leaving to be with her daughter as they settled in an undisclosed location.
For now, all he could think of was Ellen, as he handed the reins of his tired horse to a groom who wished him a good day. Taking the steps to the house two at a time, he strode past the smiling Mr Henry and headed for the interior stairs.
“Not that way, my lord!” Mr Henry called after him.
“I beg your pardon?” Thomas paused, one foot on the bottom step.
“In the parlour, my lord.” Mr Henry gestured. “I daresay you don’t need me to present you?”
The butler was talking to thin air.
Ellen looked up from her book as the parlour door opened. A second later the book fell unheeded to the floor as she leaped to her feet, and a second after that she was rushing into Thomas’ arms, heedless of any audience who might observe them.
“Ellen,” he kept saying as he rained kisses on her face, “my Ellen, how I’ve missed you!”
Ellen could find no words, too choked with emotion to speak. She clung tightly to Thomas and closed her eyes, revelling in the solid strength of him as he held her close.
“You should not be out of bed,” Thomas said finally, pulling back to hold her at arm’s length, his palms cupped over her shoulders.
Ellen laughed. The sound was husky yet, but she could speak and make herself heard. Although the bruises on her throat were still livid with colour, they were green and yellow rather than black and purple, clearly ageing and fading away. “I have been pampered and waited on hand and foot ever since you left, Thomas. Today is the first day Susan has even permitted me to leave my room, and that only because I protested I would run mad if I did not see something other than those four walls.”
Hearing her speak, sounding almost like her old self, Thomas smiled in relief. He still led her back to the comfortable fireside chair she had been occupying, though, settling her down in it and seating himself on the footstool, keeping her hands held in his.
“Obviously you are on the mend. Has Doctor Smithee been attentive?”
“Here every day at least once, sometimes twice.” Ellen smiled at him, pulling one of her hands free and reaching to touch his cheek. “How are you, Thomas?”
“I’m not the one who was injured.”
“No, but you have still had a long journey, and I have no doubt settling Louisa and Clarice did not go entirely smoothly. So I ask again; how are you?”
He stared into her eyes for a long moment before bowing his head and laying it in her lap. “Did I do the right thing, Ellen?”
“It was the only thing you could do,” she replied at once, stroking her fingers through his hair tenderly. “I have thought on it a great deal, since you left; I have had little else to do other than think, and no matter how many different possibilities I considered, none of them ended any better than the path you chose.”
Thomas sighed deeply, nodding slowly against her lap. “I know. I have had a good deal of time to think too, and I could not think of anything else either. Short of shipping Louisa off somewhere even more remote and locking her in a cottage in the Highlands or something where there is no chance of her ever being seen again by someone who might possibly recognise her…”
“Which would be too cruel a fate, even for her,” Ellen said quietly as he trailed off.
“Even if it were not, I believe Clarice would have insisted on going with her, and that would most definitely have been unfair.” Thomas lifted his head to look at her. “I know she was unkind to you, Ellen, but she is, after all, family.”
“And neither you nor I have so many family members that we are willing to let any of them suffer unnecessarily.”
“Exactly.” Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to her fingers. “To tell the truth, my joy in loving you is so all-encompassing, I cannot consider anything which might make anyone in the least distressed.”
For a long moment they sat lost in each other’s eyes, so glad to be reunited all worldly cares fell away. At last, though, Thomas shook himself and addressed the most pressing item on his mind.
“I tasked Gallagher with obtaining a special licence when I sent him back to town, and if he is half as efficient as I think him to be, it will even now be lying on my desk. Forgive me if it is your dream to have a magnificent wedding at Haverford attended by half the county, but I think it best for us to marry as quickly and quietly as possible, and then to depart London immediately.”
“I have no such yearnings, and I quite agree that is the best plan,” Ellen said at once. “So long as you are the bridegroom, I find I care not for any other details as to when and where.”
Thomas looked delighted by her sentiment, and kissed her hands again. “Have you a gown with a high collar which would conceal your bruises? If so, we might be able to invite a few close friends to witness the nuptials.”
Ellen considered that. While she had not been in London long enough to make many friends, she thought she would like to invite Lady Creighton, who had been so kind to her, and the three older ladies who wished to take her under their wing. She felt quite sure they would all be pleased for her to marry Thomas, who they had seemed to look upon with some favour despite his American birth.
Thomas left her briefly to go to his study, where he found both his steward and the special licence the faithful man had efficiently procured. Gallagher was more than happy to go out at once and find an amenable parson to perform the ceremony as soon as possible.
“I have been thinking,” Ellen told Thomas as the pair of them ate dinner together that evening, sitting in Ellen’s sitting-room with Susan sewing quietly in the corner, “that I should pay a call on Lady Jersey.”
Thomas stopped with his soup spoon suspended in mid-air, eyed her uncertainly. “Would it not be better to write to her once we have left London?”
“Except that I should like to invite her to attend the wedding.” The ceremony was set for three days’ hence, in a small church close by.
Thomas set the spoon down with a sigh. “Well. It was always part of the plan to tell her the public version of events to spread, was it not? I daresay if we do so in person, we will be that much more believable.”
Ellen nodded in agreement. “I should like to call on Lady Creighton, too,” she said. “She was very kind to me, and indeed, without her interference we might not even be sitting here now. It was her insistence that I not be a wallflower which led me to dance with Lord Bellmere and Major Trevithick, after all.”
Thomas narrowed his eyes at her. “Which caused me to realise my own idiocy in not noticing your utter perfection from the very first moment. Indeed, your reproa
ch is valid.”
She laughed at him in return. “Do not dare to be jealous, Thomas. Neither of them had any chance of winning my heart, I promise you. It has long been yours.”
They gazed at each other until Susan coughed from the corner. “That soup will taste far better while it’s hot, m’lord, Miss Bentley,” she said in gentle reproach.
“You see, I am well cared for,” Ellen smiled at her maid and picked up her spoon again. “Susan has coddled me like a hen with one chick in your absence.”
“Good,” Thomas said emphatically.
Choosing to change the subject, and given a new one because of Susan’s gentle reminder, Ellen remarked on the gossip already beginning to circulate. “The servants have begun spreading the requested story, whispering of Louisa’s departure and disgrace with a fictional member of their number.” Shaking her head, Ellen said “It’s a sad indictment of her behaviour towards them, that they are positively eager to begin crowing of her downfall.”
“Let them enjoy their revenge, Ellen. Who knows how many servants Louisa had dismissed, or even hurt more seriously, like that maid Clarice told me about? Frankly, I think we should just be thankful they are not trumpeting the truth of her madness all over London.”
“They would not,” Ellen denied firmly.
“I happen to agree, mainly because you have endeared yourself so greatly to them, both here and at Havers Hall!”
They paid a call on Lady Jersey the following morning, Ellen’s throat well covered by a lacy shawl wrapped high, the huskiness of her voice explained away by the lingering effects of influenza.
The countess asked a few probing questions about Louisa, and Thomas and Ellen answered carefully, their story well-rehearsed. They both expressed regret at their cousin’s disgrace, shock at her abrupt departure.
“I had not the slightest idea she planned anything of the sort, I assure you,” Ellen told the countess. “I do know Lady Havers was pressing Louisa to settle on one of her suitors; perhaps that prompted her to take her chance when we were all ill abed with influenza.”
“Foolish chit.” Lady Jersey shook her head. “Well, it is certainly a scandal, but I do not believe it shall touch you particularly. Especially since you plan to marry so soon. You sly thing, Miss Bentley, you gave no hint of that at all!” She tapped Ellen’s hand with her fan, chuckling to herself.
Ellen blushed, glanced sideways at Thomas, who grinned at her in return. “In my defence, my lady, I had no idea Thomas returned my affections until after Louisa’s disgrace came to light. Emotions were running high at that time.”
“No doubt, no doubt.” Lady Jersey seemed highly amused. “Well, it is a charming outcome for the pair of you, to be certain, though I quite understand why you feel it necessary to marry quickly and return to the country.” Waving a languid hand, she declared “I shall make sure the new Countess of Havers can move in society without any hint of scandal attaching to her from her cousin’s foolishness. You leave that to me.”
“We defer to your expertise, of course, Lady Jersey,” Thomas said, amused.
“I knew you were a smart young man, Havers, despite hailing from the colonies. You’ll do well enough, I dare say.”
Ellen stifled a little giggle as Lady Jersey accepted the compliment imperiously. She could only count herself lucky that the formidable lady was disposed to believe their story.
“You will come to the wedding, won’t you, Lady Jersey?” she asked hopefully.
“I would not miss it, dear girl, and I shall bring Eliza Sale and Charlotte Peabody with me, and anyone else I can scoop up.”
“Oh, thank you,” Ellen said gratefully. “We will not have time to call upon everyone who I should have wished to invite, though we go from here to the Creighton townhouse. I should very much like to invite Lady Creighton to attend.”
Chapter 18
The day of the wedding dawned dull and raining, though Susan claimed it would clear up later. Refusing to let the weather sour her mood, Ellen smiled and insisted it would not matter if it rained all day. She had no doubt Mr Henry would have arranged things so that no guest would risk so much as a single raindrop touching their hair or clothing.
“Perhaps, but your shoes would be all over mud, miss!” Susan muttered direly. “Come, into your bath and let’s get your hair washed and drying in front of the fire. Betty will be bringing your breakfast up directly.”
Smiling as her maid took charge, Ellen slipped into the prepared bath and relaxed in the warm water as Susan massaged flakes of Castile soap into her hair before washing it out with apple cider vinegar and a rosemary and lavender rinse.
“I wonder if Thomas is being fussed over as much as I?” she murmured as Susan helped her dry off and slip on a robe.
“I’ve no doubt he is having a bath, miss. There were a great many jugs of water being warmed by fireplaces all over the house this morning.” Susan squeezed water from Ellen’s hair with a linen cloth before taking a comb and carefully beginning to separate the strands, using a little lavender oil on her fingers to smooth out tangles. “Though for sure his hair will be quicker for Kenneth to dry!”
For some reason, Ellen found that ridiculously funny. Giggling, she picked up the cup of chocolate Betty had brought with her breakfast tray to take a sip.
“’Tis good to hear you laughing on your wedding day, miss,” Susan said. “And look—the rain has stopped!”
“So it has,” Ellen agreed, peering out of the window.
“Happy is the bride the sun shines upon,” Susan quoted the old saying.
“Perhaps, but my parents were the happiest couple I know and Mama always said it snowed on their wedding day. And it certainly poured with rain the day Demelza and John married, and they are very happy too, so I will not put stock in miserable wedding days having anything to do with unhappy marriages,” Ellen declared firmly.
“Very wise too, I dare say,” Susan agreed. “Won’t you eat something, miss?”
Ellen smiled wryly. Of course her sharp-eyed maid had noticed Ellen had not chosen anything from the tempting array on the tray. “My stomach is in knots, with nerves,” she confessed.
“Just think of it like every other wedding your father, God rest his soul, officiated over the years,” Susan suggested. “I dare say you’ve seen more weddings than anyone else in this house!”
That was quite true, Ellen mused as she allowed Susan to coax her into eating a slice of toast spread with butter and honey. Her father always said he loved nothing better than conducting a wedding, seeing a loving couple joined together in matrimony in God’s house… unless it was the baptisms which often followed, sometimes a little less than nine months later, though her father would never comment no matter how short the time between wedding and birth.
Her parents would have liked Thomas, she thought, very much. She could imagine he and her father having long debates over what they read in the newspapers, her mother recruiting Thomas into helping with one of her projects to improve the lot of the poorest villagers.
A tear trickled from her eye, and she blotted it away. “I am just thinking of Mama and Papa,” she replied to Susan’s concerned query. “I wish they were here.”
“Of course you do, miss. No doubt they’ll be watching over you from heaven, though,” Susan said stoutly, and Ellen nodded.
“No doubt,” she agreed quietly. No doubt the old Earl would be rolling over in his grave, too, if he could see his upstart American heir marrying the impoverished parson’s daughter he had never deigned to acknowledge as his relation, but she did not voice that thought aloud.
The servants had filled the little church with foliage, purchasing all the hothouse blooms they could find with Thomas’ purse opened for the purpose, and adding beautifully woven wreaths of greenery. The sweet scent of the blossoms filled Ellen’s nose as she took a deep breath before stepping over the threshold of the church.
Smiling faces greeted her, the servants at the back of the church and a surprisin
g number of higher society at the front as she walked up the aisle. Lady Jersey, in a position of honour in the front row, was positively beaming, Lady Sale and Mrs Peabody beside her looking just as pleased to see Ellen married. Marianne Creighton was directly behind them, her older husband at her side looking less than pleased with the occasion, but Marianne’s smile was bright. Ellen thought she would be sure to write Marianne very often. Lady Creighton seemed very much in need of a friend.
At last, she reached the end of the seemingly interminable walk to where Thomas awaited her before the altar, a broad grin on his face. Seeing how joyous he looked soothed the butterflies in Ellen’s stomach and she smiled happily back at him, the last of her worries falling away.
Together, she thought as she placed her hand in Thomas’s and the curate began intoning the words to the marriage ceremony, they would deal with whatever trials and tribulations might come their way. They might well set the Ton on its ear with their new-fangled ideas and determination that the common folk should be treated just the same as the aristocracy, but Ellen found she did not care in the slightest what the spoiled scions of the upper class might think of them, and she knew Thomas did not either.
“I love you,” Thomas mouthed as the curate droned on.
“I love you too,” Ellen mouthed back.
“If any man here knows any reason why this couple should not be joined together in holy matrimony,” the curate said, frowning at them both, “let him speak now, or forever hold his peace.”
For a wild moment, Ellen half-expected Louisa to leap from behind one of the pews, knife in hand, and she flinched slightly. Thomas tightened his grasp on her hand, concern entering his expression, but she shook her head and smiled at him again.
The church was absolutely quiet. Thomas smiled reassuringly back at Ellen, perhaps guessing something of what she was thinking, and the curate began the ceremony again, this time preparing them to speak their vows.
