Susan, however, seemed to have other ideas. Intercepting him before he reached the bed, the maid curtsied deferentially before saying “Begging your pardon, m’lord, but we need to make Miss Bentley comfortable.”
Thomas frowned, looking at Ellen reclining against her pillows. She looked perfectly comfortable to him.
“Get that dress off her and settle her into bed,” Susan said more bluntly, and he nodded, finally understanding. Ellen’s dress was blood-spattered and stained, and she would surely be distressed if she woke to find herself still wearing it.
“I should go and check on my aunt, and ensure Lady Louisa is safely confined,” Thomas suggested, and Susan gave him an approving nod and another curtsy.
*
Ellen woke with a throbbing ache in her arm and a desperate thirst. Coughing hurt, a great deal, until a strong arm behind her shoulders pushed her up to a sitting position and a glass was held to her lips.
Water dribbled into her mouth, soothing and cool, flavoured lightly with honey and lemon. She swallowed, coughed, sipped a little more.
“Easy,” Thomas’ voice said quietly into her ear. “Drink slowly.”
“Thomas?” Exhausted by the effort of drinking, she whispered his name as her head rolled back against his shoulder. An unseen hand took the glass away, and Thomas guided her gently to lie down again. “What happened?” Her voice was a thin thread, every word a huge effort to push out.
“Louisa attacked you.”
All at once, Ellen remembered. Her whole body stiffened, her eyes flying wide open as she jerked, trying to sit up.
“It’s all right,” Thomas soothed, gently pressing her back down. “She can’t hurt you. You’re quite safe.”
It really hurt too much to speak, but Ellen lifted her arm to look at the bandage swathing her arm. She hadn’t imagined it, then, the dreadful pain as Louisa’s knife stabbed through her flesh.
“Ellen,” Thomas said, and she raised her eyes to look at him. He sat close beside the bed in a chair, his coat cast aside, shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms. He looked haggard, and for the first time she could recall, there was no smile on his handsome face for her. “Oh Ellen, I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head at him, forced out a few words. “Not your fault.”
“Clarice confessed Louisa has been violent before. She attacked a maid, once; stabbed her with a pair of scissors for supposedly making eyes at one of her suitors. She seems to need to be the centre of attention, and once Clarice admitted that, I realised her jealousy towards you might have turned more sinister.”
How could he ever have known Louisa might snap like that, though? Ellen shook her head at him again, reaching out to touch his cheek as his head lowered, though she winced as she moved her arm.
“Not your fault,” she whispered again.
“You’ll never have to see her again. I promise you that. Mr Gallagher is looking into a hospital for the disturbed of mind, which the doctor who saw you suggested.”
“Not Bedlam!” Ellen’s eyes widened again.
“No, not Bedlam. A place on the Isle of Wight, I understand. A country house, a place where Louisa can rest and be treated for whatever sickness of the mind makes her act so.”
Silent, Ellen watched Thomas. He must be devastated, she thought. “And when she is better?” she whispered finally. “Will you marry her?”
Thomas’ head snapped up, his expression pure shock. “Marry Louisa?” he exclaimed. “Good God, no! How could Louisa ever be permitted to marry anyone? What if she had children, Ellen?”
“You think the madness might be passed on?”
“That, or she might be a danger to them herself! I could never forgive myself if she harmed a child, knowing I had it in my power to ensure she would never have the chance. No,” Thomas shook his head. “Should any man ask to marry Louisa, I would be compelled to tell them the truth.”
No man would marry Louisa then, Ellen knew. Or if one did, it would be solely for her dowry, and he would likely do something awful like shut her up in Bedlam. At least in refusing her the chance to marry, Thomas protected her from that.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “You must be devastated. I know you loved her.”
Chapter Fourteen
*
Thomas blinked in surprise as Ellen whispered her sympathetic words, her delicate hand outstretched to touch lightly on his wrist.
“You think I’m in love with Louisa,” he said, in dawning realisation. “I am most assuredly not, Ellen.”
Her sidelong look expressed cynicism at his denial.
“Really! Yes, I was somewhat blinded by her beauty at first, but it did not take me long to recognise she and I have absolutely no interests in common. Every time we try to talk, it ends in uncomfortable silence as I run out of things to say to her.”
Ellen’s lips twitched. She did not think she had ever even seen Thomas reduced to an uncomfortable silence; he never seemed to have any issues talking to her.
Seeing her amusement, Thomas lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against the back of it gently. “It has taken me a quite unconscionably long time, however, to realise I have already met the only woman with whom I can imagine spending the rest of my life in perfect harmony and contentment.”
Ellen’s brow furrowed as she obviously wondered who he meant, causing Thomas to shake his head and laugh. She was too modest.
“You, Ellen,” he said gently. “I mean you.”
Her eyes widened, lips parting with shock. She did not attempt to speak, though, so he ploughed valiantly on, hoping desperately that she would not reject him without thinking it over, at least.
“From our very first meeting, I was struck by your kindness and your good nature; the way you treat others, especially servants, sets an example I wish more would follow. It is to my shame that I did not comprehend until now, when two other men saw at first sight your eminent good qualities and immediately desired to court you, just how empty my life would be if you married another. I love you, Ellen. I cannot imagine living my life without seeing you every day, without talking to you about the issues which trouble me, sharing with you my triumphs and tragedies.”
Ellen’s eyes welled with tears as she gazed at him, but still she did not speak. Thomas stumbled on.
“When I saw you lying on the floor with blood everywhere, my heart stopped. I would have done anything in that moment, given even my own life, for you to just look at me and smile.”
She smiled at him as a tear trickled down her cheek. Reaching to stroke it away gently, he begged “Forgive me for being slow to come to the understanding there is nobody else I could possibly love.” Hesitating briefly, he plunged on. “This may be the most inopportune moment I could possibly have chosen but… I love you quite desperately, you see, and if I do not ask you to marry me now, I may never pluck up the courage.”
*
Ellen could scarcely believe what Thomas was saying. It was every wistful daydream she ever had, all coming true at once. The only problem was that she could barely make a sound.
“Ask me again once I can speak,” she whispered through happy tears, “so that I may fully express all the joy I feel at this moment.”
At once, Thomas’ expression of trepidation changed to pure joy, and he lifted her hand to his mouth again and lavished kisses upon it. “Dearest love,” he said, over and over again, “my dearest, darling Ellen!”
She still wondered if she was in some sort of fever dream, but if it truly was a dream, she would be quite happy never to awaken. Thomas took out his handkerchief and dried her wet face before leaning in to press a respectful kiss on her cheek. Which did more than anything else to convince her it was real; surely if it was a dream, he would have been a little less respectful and addressed her lips, as she had daydreamed of so many times.
It was only then, when Thomas stood up and said she should rest, that he had to speak with Clarice, that Ellen realised they had never been alone.
Susan had been sitting on a stool at the end of the bed the whole time.
“Are you hungry, Miss? The doctor recommended beef broth for you and I have some warm here, if you think you could sip a little,” Susan said, as Thomas departed the room.
Blushing furiously, Ellen nodded.
Susan smiled shyly at her as she came to stand at her side. “It isn’t my place to say, really, Miss, but congratulations,” the maid said, smiling broadly. “You and m’lord will be very happy together, I am sure! All the staff will be overjoyed to hear the news you are to be their new mistress!”
That was something she hadn’t even considered; in marrying Thomas, she would become the new Countess of Havers, which was a rather nerve-wracking proposition. She was reassured, however, that Thomas would not wish her to ape Clarice, with her haughty ways and dismissal of those who did not share her exalted rank.
Susan helped Ellen sip warm beef broth from a small cup with a spout, until at last she shook her head, indicating she could drink no more.
“The doctor left some laudanum for you,” Susan said, “he said you should have a drop tonight to help you sleep, with the pain in your arm.”
Ellen did not care much for laudanum, since she had seen the effects of overindulgence more than once in her work assisting her mother in parish duties. Considering the pain in her arm and her throat, though, she nodded acceptance. Poppy-induced oblivion would be welcome just now.
The bitter taste lingered on her tongue, but she soon found herself drifting off, numbness overwhelming her and washing away the pain. She was on the edge of sleep when Thomas sat down beside the bed again.
“Thomas,” she whispered his name, fumbling for his hand. Warm, strong fingers wrapped around hers.
“I’m here. Sleep, Ellen. You’re safe, I promise.”
She wanted to stay awake, to look on his dear, beloved face, but the poppy had her deep in its thrall. Her eyelids were so heavy. They drifted closed to the sound of Thomas humming a soft, soothing lullaby.
*
Ellen woke screaming, or trying to, hoarse croaks all that emitted from her bruised throat. Thomas was there at once, strong arms folding around her as he spoke, assuring her she was safe.
Leaning against Thomas’ strong chest, Ellen remembered the other reason why she did not care for laudanum. Her mother had given it to her when she was ten or so and had an infected tooth. The nightmares had woken her screaming five times that horrible night. What she had dreamed, she could not say; nameless horrors with sharp teeth and tearing claws teased the edges of her consciousness.
“It’s all right,” Thomas was whispering, stroking her hair, and she realised he had moved to sit on the edge of the bed, the better to comfort her. Daringly, she put her arm about his waist and leaned in closer, feeling to her amazement the way he placed kisses against her hair and brow.
The room was quite dark, lit only by the faint glow of the banked fire and a single candlestick on her dresser.
“What time is it?” she whispered finally.
“Sometime after midnight. I sent Susan to get some sleep; do you need anything?”
She shook her head against his chest. “It was just a nightmare.” Her eyelids were already beginning to droop again.
“Sleep,” Thomas told her softly. “You’re quite safe, I promise.” He kissed her hair again and drew her gently down to lie among the pillows. Comforted by his warmth, Ellen snuggled close to him and let herself drift off again.
*
“My lord, the doctor is here.”
Susan’s voice woke Ellen from slumber; she was warm and comfortable, and quite disinclined to move. Unfortunately, her bed seemed to have other ideas, as it shifted beneath her.
“What the… oh.” Opening her eyes, she discovered it was not her bed which was moving, but Thomas, upon whose chest she was currently reclining. He shot her a sheepish smile as he laid her back gently against the pillows, and she looked around the room, face flaming. Only Susan appeared to be witness to their very compromising situation, though, and the maid stood with face averted, firmly not looking at them.
“I’ll just go and make myself presentable,” Thomas told Susan quietly as she passed. “I’ll wait outside; please call me in once the doctor has completed his examination.”
Ellen was, for the first time, grateful for her sore throat, because it meant she had an excellent excuse not to try and explain away the unexplainable. Susan appeared quite happy to pretend she had seen nothing untoward, in any case, as she bustled about tidying the room and helping Ellen to sit up, re-brushing her hair and pulling it back into a loose braid.
“There you go, Miss.” Susan gave her a warm smile, patting her hand lightly. “I’ll bring the doctor in now, shall I?”
Ellen didn’t remember meeting Doctor Smithee the previous evening, but his quiet manner inspired confidence, and she lay back to allow him to inspect her throat with gentle fingers. He did not unwrap the bandage about her arm, but asked her how it was feeling and listened gravely to her whispered answer.
“Unless you begin to feel heat in it, or start running a fever, I think we shall leave that to itself for a few days yet,” he said finally. “The witch hazel compresses are doing their job to minimise the bruising on your throat, which frankly was my most immediate concern. Severe swelling there might restrict your breathing. Keep them up for two more days at least,” he instructed Susan, who nodded quick acceptance of the order.
“My voice?” Ellen whispered. She could barely get a sound out; even attempting to shout produced nothing more than a faint croak, and a painful one at that.
“Patience, my dear.” Doctor Smithee twinkled at her. “Nasty bruises take a few days to heal, don’t they? Well, in a few days I believe you will find your voice beginning to return. Plenty of soothing tea to drink and soup to drink until you feel able to take something firmer. I believe you should be your own best guide, as regards your return to health; I have no doubt Lord Havers will be keeping a close eye to ensure you do not do too much, at any rate.”
Ellen smiled shyly and ducked her head at the mention of Thomas’ name, and the doctor nodded, stepping back.
“Indeed, I have no doubt his Lordship is waiting outside the door at this very moment, agitating to be let back in so he may quiz me as to the progress of your recovery. Admit him, if you would, my good woman,” he addressed Susan, who hurried to the door to do his bidding.
Chapter Fifteen
*
Once Doctor Smithee departed, Thomas lost no time in settling back down on the bed beside Ellen again, drawing her into his arms. With a shy glance at Susan, who studiously ignored them, Ellen settled her head on his chest. She had questions to ask, but for now, it felt so good just to be held close and safe in Thomas’ arms.
Finally, she whispered “What happens now?”
“For us?” Thomas asked, brushing a gentle kiss over her brow.
“Louisa, Clarice, too.” Though she had wracked her brain, Ellen could see no way out of the current situation without some sort of scandal enveloping the family, one Thomas did not deserve.
“Ah. Yes. Well, I have sent off an inquiry to the hospital the good doctor told me about on the Isle of Wight, and I hope to hear back from them in a few days. Should they be able to accept Louisa for treatment, I will have to escort her there. Clarice has expressed a desire to remain close to her daughter, so she will accompany us and I will find her a house, set her up with some servants and the like.”
Ellen squeezed his hand, glad of his consideration, but questions still remained. What would people say if Louisa and Clarice just up and vanished in the middle of the Little Season?
“As to what story we should put about, I had a thought on that subject I wished to run by you,” Thomas said, almost as though he had read her mind. “Obviously, letting it be known that Louisa is dangerously insane is… not ideal.”
She snorted at the understatement, though it made her cough.
“So
I thought we could tell people she ran away with a footman.”
Ellen choked. Wide-eyed, she stared at Thomas, who chuckled at her reaction. He was absolutely serious, she realised as he spoke again.
“Clarice, obviously, will choose to retire from society in shame. She intends to live secluded on the Isle of Wight anyway, and anyone who might recognise her or Louisa while visiting relatives of their own at the asylum is unlikely to speak out.”
Though the idea seemed wild at first, Ellen soon saw the sense in it. She touched her throat, though, and looked at Thomas with questioning eyes.
“Yes, we shall have to remain in seclusion until your throat has healed,” Thomas agreed, “though a case of the influenza would explain both the doctor’s visits and our absence from Society for a few days at least. Easy enough to have Mr Henry tell anyone who calls that you, Clarice and I are all afflicted, and for Louisa to ‘take advantage’ of our illnesses to ‘run away’ with her lover.”
It was actually a very clever plan, Ellen thought as she ran through some of the issues in her mind. While it would certainly be a scandal, Louisa would hardly be the first heiress to disgrace herself with a lover from the servant classes, and Clarice retiring from society would be a perfectly natural reaction to her daughter’s fall from grace.
“The servants?” she asked hoarsely, glancing across at where Susan was now sitting by the window quietly sewing.
“Have no wish to see the Havers family as a whole disgraced by the madness of one member. You have endeared yourself to them greatly, Ellen; you should have heard the celebrating below stairs when Susan told them our news. I believe I have been congratulated by almost every member of the staff on my excellent choice of bride.”
She blushed at the compliment and cast her eyes down shyly. Thomas waited patiently for her to look back at him, at which point he took the opportunity to steal a kiss.
Ellen was even redder when he moved back, and he chuckled warmly. “You have to marry me now, anyway. You are hopelessly compromised, not that anyone who knows would ever breathe a word of it.”
An Earl For Ellen (Blushing Brides Book 1) Page 10