Ruby: A Western Historical Romance (Old Western Mail Order Bride Series Book 2)

by Amy Field

  Chapter Five

  A note! From whom? She clasped the small scrap of paper to her breast. Wyndmere! Surely! Her fingers fumbled as she scrambled to unfold the note. A slanted, thick script filled the sheet of paper.

  Lady Carrington—or might I dare say, Ellie, as I’m told you are called by those who are close,

  All is not well. Meet me in the apple orchard as the twilight settles.

  I cannot take my leave without speaking to you alone.

  Yours always,

  Chadwick Wyndmere

  She held the note briefly to her breast before tossing the parchment into the fire illuminating her cozy room. She couldn’t risk someone else finding the incriminating slip of paper, despite her desire to treasure the small keepsake.

  Unfortunately, Ellie already knew what he would tell her. But after sending a note to her parents that she was unwell and would not be able to attend dinner in the dining hall, she slipped down the servants’ stairs in a homespun cloak she’d pilfered from the maid, clearly in on Captain Wyndmere’s plan.

  “Ellie!” A loud whisper called to her from the copse of apple trees. She looked around to make sure no one lingered nearby before dodging into the shadows of the orchard.

  Captain Wyndmere rushed to her, taking her slender hands into his rough ones.

  “Dearest, I’m afraid I have unfortunate news,” he whispered urgently.

  She hung her head in guilt. “I already know. The Commander informed me straightaway of his cruel plans,” she confessed.

  “I do not worry for myself, as there is yet a slim chance that I may walk away with my life once the battle is over. But you, dear Ellie, once you are married to that man, your life will no longer be your own. There are even whispers of the suspicious circumstances of his first wife’s death.”

  “I know my life is of little consequence to anyone unless it is being used as a bargaining point,” she replied.

  “That isn’t so. I very much treasure your life—your beauty, your smile, your kind heart and wild spirit. I wanted to tell you that due to our questionable circumstances, I asked for your hand in marriage this afternoon, but your father directed me to inquire with the Commander, who promptly handed me my papers.”

  “Oh! Captain Wyn—“

  “Call me Chadwick, please. With the dangers I soon will face, I want to hear my name upon your lips,” he interrupted her, taking her hands in his.

  “Chadwick, I’m so very sorry to have placed you in this position. I never intended for my brash actions to harm anyone else.” She hung her head.

  Chadwick let go of one of her hands and tilted her chin up so that he could look her in the eyes. “Do not apologize, Ellie. You didn’t know—my predicament was produced by a series of unfortunate events, and there’s nothing that can be done. My only reason in telling you of my departure is to confess that I do very much care for you, beautiful Ellie. Though it is improper for me to say such things to an engaged woman, I cannot keep it to myself. I care deeply for you, Ellie, and I will carry your name in my heart upon the fields of battle.” His voice was urgent, and a hint of desperation lingered in his words.

  “I care for you, as well. If there were any other way…” she trailed off, standing before him and unintentionally breaking both of their hearts.

  “Let’s not talk of it any longer,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around her. Ellie knew she shouldn’t give in to his embrace, but her heart held more sway than her mind in the matter. She lifted her face and closed her eyes, a silent permission he understood perfectly.

  When his lips tenderly brushed against hers, lingering with gentle pressure, the world disappeared beneath her feet. She floated on the happiest of clouds as she lifted her arms to pull him closer and run her fingers through the hair curling at his collar.

  “Ellie, sweet Ellie,” Chadwick whispered as he lifted away from her lips, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m afraid we must part before I take further liberties than I already have.”

  She nodded, despite the unexpected disappointment of his lips no longer on hers. Smoothing her hair and gown, she tried to settle the tumultuous beating of her heart and longing of her soul physically before leaving the shelter of the orchard she would consider a sacred place from that day forward.

  “Goodbye, my love. I wish you well, and I will pray for your safe return,” she told him, fighting back tears.

  “I will never forget you, Ellie. My heart is yours, always,” he replied, kissing her once more before she willed herself to take her leave finally. She ran through the apple trees, not stopping or looking back. If she dared to do either, she’d certainly run back to find him and refuse to leave his side. That wouldn’t bode well for either of them.

  Chapter Six

  Hours later, as she sat at her dressing table in her nightgown, brushing out her chestnut hair until the long locks glistened, she paused, brush in mid-air as someone knocked urgently at her bedroom door.

  She jumped up, wrapping a velvet robe around her cotton gown and rushed to see who needed her at this hour. Opening the door a crack to peer into the hall, the sight of a worried maid wringing her apron greeted her.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Ellie asked, opening the door wider.

  “My lady, your father sent me to fetch you straight away. ‘Tis the Commander. He’s not well.”

  “Oh, my. Let me dress quickly. Where am I to go?”

  “To the Commander’s suite on the second floor. I’ll help you dress, my lady,” the maid told her, following Ellie back into her room. She plucked a gown from her wardrobe and handed it to the young girl as she shrugged out of her nightdress.

  Moments later, a suitably dressed Ellie struggled to keep up with the maid’s quick pace. When they’d reached the Commander’s door, a few of the gentry and some military officers that had remained after the ball the other night, as well as her mother, hovered outside of the double doors leading to his suite of rooms.

  “Mother?” Ellie questioned.

  “Oh, Ellie, dear. The Commander is gravely ill. He was fine, laughing heartily about Napoleon’s latest escapade while he took port with the gentlemen after dinner, when out of nowhere, he clutched at his chest and started struggling to breathe,” her mother explained, wringing a lace handkerchief in her jewel-laden hands.

  “That is terrible, Mother. Will he be alright?” she asked.

  “The physician is examining him now, but it doesn’t look good, Ellie. I’m afraid we must prepare ourselves for the worst,” she confessed, and for the first time ever, she looked older than her forty-three years.

  Just then, the gray-haired physician and Ellie’s father emerged from the Commander’s room. Ellie studied their furrowed brows, the slight hunch of her father’s shoulders. All was not well.

  “Lady Eleanor, the Commander wishes to see you,” the physician said when his gaze landed on her.

  “Is he going to be alright?” Ellie asked, fearing what she would see when she entered the room.

  “He’s resting now. He has suffered a malady of the heart, and although I’ve bled him, whether he makes it through the night… we shall see,” the doctor told her, crossing himself.

  Guilt crept into Ellie’s heart. She should be beside herself with grief that her future husband’s life hung between heaven and earth. But she wasn’t.

  Creeping softly into the room lit by firelight and a smattering of candles, Ellie quietly approached the bed. With his eyes closed, the Commander’s handsome face looked peaceful in the dancing shadows.

  “Lord Southerland?” Ellie inquired, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Ahh, Lady Eleanor, my dear bride,” he said slowly, stirring, although he kept his eyes closed. She hadn’t imagined that she would feel her heart sink at the sight of him so weak.

  “I am sorry to hear of your illness,” she told him with unexpected sincerity.

  “As a man uncertain of what life he has left to live, I must beg your forgiveness, my lady. Lo
rd knows, I am sorry for whatever pain you experienced at my expense.” The words were a struggle for him. Ellie wasn’t sure if the difficulty was physical or emotional.

  “It doesn’t matter, now. Please don’t let yourself be troubled. Concern yourself only with getting well,” Ellie replied, patting his arm gently.

  “Ah, but it does matter. I must know you have forgiven me,” he pleaded.

  “Yes, I hold no ill will, but might I ask you for one favor, my lord?” Guilt plagued her, but love drove her forward with her bold ask.

  He nodded slightly.

  “Will you rescind the orders for Captain Wyndmere? He was thrown into an unfair predicament due to my…impetuous actions, and his assistance has issued him an order for certain death,” she confessed.

  “If I do so, t'will settle matters between us?” he asked.

  “Yes, very much so.”

  “So be it. When you take leave, send word to fetch my steward. I shall have him draw up the order and seal it this very night,” he promised.

  “Oh! Thank you, my lord! Thank you! The consequences of my actions were becoming too much to bear!” she exclaimed, leaning down and caressing the dying man’s cheek. She didn’t need to add that she loved another man, that his act would allow her love to live while he lay on his deathbed struggling for breath.

  “Go in peace, Lady Eleanor. I do hope to see your angelic countenance upon the morrow,” he said, squeezing her hand.

  “Sleep well, my lord. I will pray for your quick recovery,” she murmured before exiting the room.

  Chapter Seven

  “Has Captain Wyndmere taken his leave?” Ellie asked Preston, the Lyndhurst Hall Butler.

  “He is preparing for his journey. You may find him in the duke’s apartments discussing strategies with the other officers,” Preston informed him.

  “Thank you,” she nodded. Ellie slipped into the Rose Room, the closest drawing room to her father’s privy chambers, and paced back and forth. She couldn’t very well interrupt some of the country’s fiercest militants as they discussed battle plans. How would she draw out Chadwick without seeming improper?

  Of course! The Commander had asked her to summon his steward. She would simply go herself rather than send a servant. She could always blame the distress she felt over his illness caused her to forget the rigid expectations of society.

  She left the rosy drawing room and with her head held high and shoulders squared, walked purposefully to the heavy oak doors that lead to her father’s private rooms. A liveried servant standing guard tried to stop her.

  “My lady, your father is attending to the Commander. Only the officers are here in his offices.”

  “Yes, I know. I am here to summon the Commander’s steward per his request upon his sickbed,” she replied, staring down the servant standing in her way.

  The servant eyed her carefully “Very well, then I shall accompany you as chaperone,” he said nodding.

  “If you so desire, you may. It matters little to me,” she shrugged flippantly.

  The servant knocked loudly on the doors, and another servant within opened it directly. “We are here to deliver a message,” Ellie’s chaperone said lowly.

  They were granted entrance. Ellie spied Chadwick deep in conversation with two other men huddled around a map unfurled upon a table.

  “I’ve been instructed by the Commander himself to find his steward and send him directly to his bedside,” she announced to the room filled with a dozen or so men. They all stopped mid-conversation and stared at her.

  “Yes, my lady. I will go to him right away,” an older gentleman spoke up, bowing before hurrying from the room.

  She took the opportunity to catch Chadwick’s gaze, and she hoped he could see in her face that she needed to speak with him. She very well couldn’t ask him to accompany her from the room.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen. I do apologize for the interruption, albeit necessary,” she said, curtseying low before seeing herself out of the masculine room.

  Ellie took the slowest, most infinitesimal steps down the hall leading out of her father’s wing of private rooms.

  “Ell--,” he cleared his throat, “Lady Carrington!”

  She turned to see Chadwick emerge from the room she’d just left.

  “Captain Wyndmere,” she curtseyed, retaining a formal air for the benefit of any servants lurking nearby.

  “I was wondering if you would accompany me on a short walk around the courtyard?” he asked.

  “Certainly,” she nodded and waited for him to catch up with her.

  “Have you need to speak with me?” he asked quietly, as they walked side by side through the great hall.

  “Yes, indeed,” she replied but didn’t speak further until they were safe from eavesdroppers in the open courtyard.

  “Lord Southerland, as you know, is gravely ill. He requested my presence at his bedside and begged my forgiveness for the grief he has caused,” she said, her whispers furtive, “I asked him to nullify his orders for your presence on the front lines of battle and he agreed!”

  “Oh, Ellie!”

  “Yes, I know. T'is wonderful news, and the reason he requested his steward.”

  “My love! All is not lost then!” Chadwick pulled Ellie toward the edge of the courtyard, dipping into an archway leading to the greenhouses and kitchen gardens. His arms wrapped around her and his mouth found hers in the seclusion of the passageway barely illuminated by the faintest reach of the courtyard’s lanterns. Ellie surrendered to the delicious feelings as they celebrated his life, but as the pounding of her heart sped out of control, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him slightly away.

  “I apologize for my forward actions, Ellie,” Chadwick admitted with urgency.

  “Chadwick, I am still betrothed to the Commander, it is neither prudent nor kind of me to fall so readily into your arms as he fights alone for his life. I cannot tell you how very thankful I am that your life is no longer hanging in the balance, but I owe him much for his kindness. I will gladly sacrifice my happiness if it ensures your wellbeing,” she told him, biting her lip to keep from crying.

  “We could run away—elope to Gretna Green and spend the rest of our lives together. I may not be considered wealthy, but I do receive a stipend from my father, and I’m to inherit one of his estates,” he told her.

  “As tempting as that sounds, I cannot think about such luxuries during this current trial. I hope you understand,” she replied. “If you will excuse me, I must go where I am needed.”

  Ellie rushed from the quiet courtyard and through the great house until she reached the Commander’s rooms. Immediately upon her approach, she saw the faces of those gathered, the sag of her mother’s shoulders. Something had happened.

  “How is he faring?” Ellie asked quietly.

  Her mother clutched her lace handkerchief to her breast, a fresh spate of tears falling from her glassy eyes. “Ellie, dearest, I am afraid the Commander is no longer among us,” she cried, crossing herself.

  At that moment, equal parts of bitter sadness and blissful relief fought for dominance within her bewildered soul. A man she had despised and resented for the freedom he had so easily stolen from her spent his last moments showing kindness and presenting her with a selfless act of love.

  “Is Father seeing to arrangements?” Ellie inquired, placing a gentle hand on her mother’s arms.

  “He has sent a messenger to the king and to the undertaker. We shall send the body to his relations in Devonshire,” her mother said, her nose wrinkling at having to speak about such unsavory tasks.

  “Have you spoken with his steward?”

  “The man left but moments before Lord Southerland breathed his last. According to your father, the Commander was insistent upon settling a matter of military importance,” her mother explained in confusion.

  “Mother, I’m so very weary. Tonight has been… quite difficult. Please excuse me,” she said, an urgent need to assure a certain man�
��s safety being the only task on her mind.

  Her mother waved her away, and Ellie swiftly headed not to her bedroom, but back to her father’s private chambers once more. She walked purposefully down the corridor, not even pausing to explain her presence as she opened the heavy door before the footman serving as guard knew what was happening.

  Bursting through the door, she saw the Commander’s steward, his right-hand man, seated at her father’s desk, feather pen in hand.

  “Did Lord Southerland speak with you regarding Captain Wyndmere’s assignment?” she asked boldly.

  The steward sat the pen in its holder and rose to bow. “My lady, these are gentlemen’s matters that do not concern you.”

  “I would have to disagree, sir. Lord Southerland made a promise to me, and a man’s life will be spared if he upheld that promise. I only want assurance that he did as he said he would do.”

  “If you must know, the Commander signed the order he had me hastily draw up, rescinding his original plan to add Captain Wyndmere to the infantry’s front line. As Captain Wyndmere is a trained cavalry captain, it would have placed him in grave danger. However, the Commander also had me to draw up a request for Captain Wyndmere, and he even went ahead sealed it, trusting I would pen his wishes as he has trusted me with all important matters these many years.”

  “What did he request?” Ellie asked, curiously.

  “That Captain Wyndmere be promoted to Lieutenant General, second in command to whoever the King selects to be the Commander of the British Army. It is the highest honor he could bestow,” the steward explained.

  Ellie sank into the leather chair behind her, the gesture taking her utterly by surprise. To think, she had rushed to ensure the Commander had simply kept his promise and instead found out that he’d gone above and beyond his promise and promoted Wyndmere!

  “He wanted me to tell you that he owed Wyndmere much for protecting what he’d so unforgivably trampled upon,” the Steward added.