The Illicit Love of a Courtesan

by Jane Lark

  Lady Stanforth seemed supportive, if not overly jubilant about her nephew’s marriage, and Ellen began relaxing a little.

  But then the drawing room door thrust open and Edward’s companion from Madam Marietta’s strode into the room. “Ed!”

  Ellen’s heart stopped for a moment before kicking to a wild rhythm.

  His cousin, Rupert. Of course. She had not even made the connection when Edward had talked of coming.

  Ellen felt instantly unclean and out of place. She supposed Edward must not think it any risk, but this man had seen her in her former life. He’d been there the night Gainsborough had played his lewd games to anger Edward.

  She wanted to leave, but she could not. Watching this cousin, she waited to hear his accusations—terrified.

  Edward had stood and a smile of genuine pleasure parted his cousin’s lips when they shook hands. Then he saw her. Ellen anticipated condemnation, her heart in her mouth. But it did not come. He merely stared.

  Immediately Edward launched into a formal introduction, acting as though his cousin had never seen her before. “You must meet my wife, Rupert. I have just been telling your mother how we met.” She knew Edward’s words were to encourage his cousin to keep their secrets.

  Ellen’s heart pounded as Rupert stepped forward and lifted his hand. “Lady Edward, a pleasure.” There was no pleasure left in his voice, his smile was now taut and false. She laid her hand in his and he mumbled something supposed to be charming. It did not have the ring of truth at all.

  Ellen felt herself blush and he let her fingers fall.

  She was silent while Edward explained their cause again. So was Edward’s cousin. He did not contradict Edward and tell the truth. His only revealing expression was raised eyebrows at the mention of her father and John. Then it was agreed that the family would accompany them to the theatre four days hence and the interview was concluded.

  As the front door shut behind them, Ellen let out a breath and took Edward’s arm to descend the few steps to the street. “You did not say your companion from the club would be here. I had forgotten you’d mentioned your cousin.”

  “He’ll say nothing. We’ve been close since we were boys.”

  “But did your brother not say it was your cousin Rupert who told him of our association and that he disapproved?” When they reached the pavement, Ellen stopped and turned to face him. “Edward, I have just sat there and lied to your family, while your cousin knows the truth. How do you think it makes me feel?” Clearly Edward did not understand her mortification.

  “Wicked,” he gave her as answer, laughing, before bending to press a quick kiss on her lips, in the street, in broad daylight. Then he turned to lead her to the carriage.

  Ellen felt a blush again, but still refused to move. She was angry. She wanted to make him understand. She could not bear this. “Edward, it is not funny. I do not like lying to them.”

  When he turned back, there was a worn placating smile on his lips. “What would you have me tell them then, Ellen? The truth?” With that he turned away again.

  Her fingers still on his arm she pulled him back. “Edward, I cannot do this.”

  He turned back again and covered her fingers on his arm with his hand in a gesture of reassurance. “Ellen, you can. What is worse, never seeing John again, or telling a few white lies? And Rupert knows we cannot tell the truth, he’ll not judge us for it.” She didn’t need to answer. He knew her answer. Her only reply was beginning to walk.

  “And now, we are going shopping.”

  “Shopping? Edward.”

  “Shopping, and you are not to argue.” The pitch of his voice was light and teasing now, denying their former conversation. He was clearly sweeping it aside.

  “You have already bought enough for me in York. There is no need to buy more.”

  “York, my dear, is not London.” Reaching their carriage, he turned to her and tucked his gloved fingers beneath her chin. Beside them the footmen held open the carriage door, looking blankly upwards, and above them the driver looked along the street. Her heart thumping and her breath short Ellen turned her eyes to Edward. All else in the street disappeared as she held his gaze, looking into the deep slate-blue. “You will be mixing with London’s elite. I know how much you suffer with self-consciousness. Do you think I would have it any other way than ensuring you feel absolutely equal? And say nothing of the expense, I don’t care about it. I do care about you. I promise I shall be cautious. I shall not have us in penury.”

  Ellen hugged him, her arms about his neck. She loved him, his patience, his kindness—his determination. He deserved far more than her reproach. “Edward, I thank God I have you.”

  When she let him go, he gave her a benevolent smile. “And I you, you silly woman.”

  ~

  The second assault of Edward’s campaign to return her to her position in society and John to her, took place three days later. Ellen had begun feeling as though she was being swept along by a floodtide. There was no ignoring Edward’s resolve once he was set upon a course.

  The Forths had arrived in London the day before and they’d immediately sent an invitation to call upon them at three the next afternoon.

  Edward was in an exceptionally cheerful mood as they climbed the steps and entered the Forths’ townhouse, she saw him smile broadly at the butler. He had been smiling all day. But his hand was beneath her elbow, in a tender gesture of support.

  In the hall, Edward let her go, took off his hat and gloves and gave them to a footman, while she untied the lavender ribbons of her new straw bonnet. It was decorated with a seasonal bouquet of white silk crocuses over her left ear. She slipped it off carefully, not disturbing her hair, and passed it to the butler, then undid the buttons of her deeper mauve velvet spencer.

  Edward’s fingers touched her shoulders, helping her slip it off once the buttons were loose and then he handed that to the butler too. Straightening, she smoothed the skirts of her lavender walking dress. It had a pattern of printed cornflowers. Her fingers trembled. She felt ridiculously nervous today. She did not really know why.

  With his usual kindness and understanding, Edward smiled more broadly, captured her fingers in his, pressed a kiss on them and then tucked them about the crook of his arm.

  Ellen took a breath, trying to calm her nerves, and smiled back at him as the butler opened the drawing room door.

  A hubbub of conversation spilled out into the white marble-lined hall, with more than one female voice.

  Ellen’s heart thumped harder as the butler announced them formally and she heard the conversation cease. Edward led her in. She doubted she would ever feel comfortable socialising. She felt as though she was always waiting for someone to point her out and name her for the harlot she had once been. Not that she could remember who that person was. Perhaps it was that which made this so hard. With Edward she felt open to being hurt. Before, cold and broken, she had not cared what others thought.

  As they stepped into the drawing room all she saw initially was elegantly clad people. Her gaze quickly circulated about the room and her legs weakened. She saw familiar faces. Faces she had not seen since she’d been young. Edward’s arm came about her waist, his other hand taking hers as he led her to a seat.

  “Eleanor!” The cry rang from three voices at once, zealous and brimful with joy. Then she was suddenly surrounded and swamped with hugs and kisses as Edward settled her into a chair. It left Ellen bewildered and close to tears. Yet she was still conscious of Edward standing beside her.

  Sylvia the youngest of her sisters pulled away first, sniffing while taking out a small embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve, to dry her tears.

  “Come forward, James, do.” Sylvia beckoned to the man Ellen presumed to be her husband, as Penelope and Rebecca stood back. They stared at Ellen as though she had three heads.

  Ellen attempted to rise but her legs were unsteady and then the room undertook a full circle. She gripped Edward’s arm.

 
; “You need not rise, Eleanor,” Sylvia admonished, sounding concerned as Edward helped Ellen sit again. “My Jamie is not one to stand on show. Do, come here, darling.” The man who walked to Sylvia’s side was equal in height to Sylvia, fair and lean. On reaching them he touched Sylvia’s arm, giving her a tender look and smile. Then he turned to Ellen and bent in a deep bow as he held out his hand.

  Ellen laid her fingers in his and he placed a chaste kiss atop her cotton glove.

  “I have heard much about you, Lady Eleanor. I know Sylvia looks up to her memory of you. She is deeply relieved to have you returned to us.”

  Lord James Rush, the Duke of Bradford, Ellen’s youngest sister’s husband, proved to be charming. Ellen knew they had married nine months ago. Clearly it was a love match.

  Ellen smiled as he let her hand go. Then he drew away and wrapped an arm about Sylvia.

  Ellen had read about her sisters’ lives and matches with trepidation, but from this greeting it seemed all her fears had been for naught, they were happy.

  Rebecca stepped forward next, with her husband, Lord David Stewart, the Earl of Preston. His arm about Rebecca, his hand rested on her expanding waist. Ellen knew they already had one child, a girl, who would be three now. “I am honoured to meet you, Lady Eleanor.” Lord Stewart bowed and offered his hand as Sylvia’s husband had done. “You must come and meet your namesake soon.” He lifted Ellen’s fingers to his lips and kissed them.

  Ellen’s heart thumped; this was all so overwhelming.

  “When our daughter was born, Rebecca would accept no other name, having spent the years extolling her eldest sister’s virtues and mourning your loss. Little Eleanor was named in your memory. She is now overjoyed at the thought she may meet her aunt.” With that he let Ellen’s hand go and stepped away.

  Ellen had said nothing, she was too shocked. But now it was Penny’s turn. Ellen stood. Her legs felt like aspic but they held her up.

  Penny and her husband the Marquess of Wiltshire stepped forward and Ellen saw tears cloud Penny’s eyes. She hugged Ellen and Ellen held her too. Oh, it felt so surreal and wonderful to share an embrace with Penny again, as though the years in between had not been. But they had happened.

  Penny was the only one of the three who would have known the reasons for Ellen’s elopement. Rebecca and Sylvia had been too young. Drawing away from Penny, slipping back into the elder sister role, Ellen brushed a curl she had loosened, behind Penny’s ear. “I am glad to see you happy.”

  “Because of you,” Penny whispered. “Mother refused to agree to any of father’s plans to arrange a marriage for me. He let me pick whichever man I chose. I think father learned lessons from your disappearance. He was not nearly so hard on us when he returned from France with John.”

  Nodding, Ellen said nothing. She did not wish to speak to her sisters of the truth or of what their father had done. Yet it was hard to lie. Blushing she stepped back and turned on Penny’s introduction to the Marquess.

  He was the first son of the Duke of Arundel. They had married eight years before, and Ellen knew they had three girls, the youngest of which was just one. Yet even now the admiring look the Marquess sent Penny appeared full of love and understanding. He took Ellen’s hand and bowed across it as the other men had done.

  “My dear, Eleanor, you must forgive me, I feel as if I know you. You have been a part of my life for a long time. Penny never ceases speaking of you, and I have had the greatest pleasure playing uncle to your son.”

  A lump stuck in Ellen’s throat. She tried to swallow it but could not, then Edward, as ever observant and caring, handed her a glass of orgeat. She sipped it twice before he took it back. Smiling up at him, she felt pride and gratitude swell—she had found love again too.

  “Have you met my husband, Lord Wiltshire,” she said, turning back to the Marquess. “Lord Edward Marlow?” Heavens, it was so good to speak those words of Edward.

  The round of introductions repeated and then Edward began explaining how things stood and his plans.

  Her sisters took Ellen away to sit across the room with Julie, and left the men to it. Gathered about Ellen, they then drew out her tale with question after question, asking all about Edward, and how Ellen had met him, about their wedding. Ellen answered what she could, and struggled for words to avoid the answers she could not tell the truth to.

  When Sylvia asked where she had been all these years, Ellen sighed and simply answered, “Surviving, Sylvia,” in a voice that said, please do not ask me more.

  But then Penny asked what their father had done when he’d fetched John. She wanted to know why he’d said Ellen was dead. These questions were so hard to answer.

  “He is a Duke, Penny,” Ellen said at length. “I can understand a little of his unwillingness to acknowledge me. I made the choice to elope with Paul.” Then she added, “Paul had no title of his own. He had no inheritance. You have all chosen well. Father cannot condemn you. But Paul was not equal to his status.”

  “He was the son of an Earl, and I remember him; he was kind and good.” A sincere heat sparked in Penny’s eyes. Ellen smiled, but internally she baulked in disbelief. She was arguing on her father’s behalf.

  “He was a sixth son with no allowance and no inheritance.” Ellen continued, determined not to widen the rift in her family. “I made my choice, Penny, when I left I knew we would not be wealthy and I knew father would not want me back.”

  “But there is no excuse for him lying about your death,” Penny insisted finally.

  Ellen said nothing, what could she say.

  Apparently realising her argument had gone too far, Penny ceased railing and gripped Ellen’s fingers. “You are here with us now though, and we shall not lose you again. Richard and I called on Mama and Papa on the way to London. Richard has told father plainly, he completely disapproves of his behaviour towards you, and Mama burst into tears when I told her you are alive. She shouted at Papa. I have never seen her do either before. I think she will never speak to him again.”

  “She will not sway him to receive me,” Ellen whispered, unable to think of her mother being so deceived and fighting the surge of emotion which longed for her. Her mother had shown them considerable love to compensate for their father’s coldness. Ellen had always missed her, but her mother had little power over their father. He’d never sought their mother’s counsel when Ellen was a child, never listened to anyone but himself.

  “But Richard will, Eleanor,” Penny responded, deep assurance in her voice.

  “And James has significant influence in the House of Lords. Father cannot ignore that,” Sylvia expanded, glancing across the room at her husband and smiling.

  “As does David and his cousins, between us there will be too much pressure for father to ignore you. He will be ridiculed if we recognise you and he does not. It will ruin the reputation he is so proud of.”

  “When you called to see them did you see John?” Ellen asked of Penny. “Is he well?” Penny squeezed her hand.

  “Yes, he is well and was overjoyed when I told him we were coming to see you. At which point his poor little smile cracked, believing he had made a mistake and should pretend not to know of your existence. Then it all spilled out I’m afraid, about how you have written to him for years and that he has a new Papa but Grandpapa took him away. All he wishes for is to see you and Edward again and I have sworn to him we will make it possible just as soon as we can.”

  Ellen smiled, feeling tears in her eyes.

  “I find it wonderful that John loves you despite Papa’s influence. It must rile father so.” Penny’s gaze suddenly focused more sharply and Ellen knew she was about to be asked another awkward question. “Why did you not write to me before this and ask for help?”

  Ellen’s hands lifted and fell. How could she explain that she had no wish to affect her sisters’ reputations without admitting what had happened in the intervening years? When Penny had married, she’d still not dared to write, fearing Penny’s husband wo
uld react poorly to such news. And then there had been children, and she could not risk destroying her sisters’ lives. “Things were not that simple, Penny,” was all Ellen said.

  Her sister’s measured gaze continued to meet Ellen’s, and Ellen had a feeling Penny knew exactly what had gone on. Looking up at Edward, Ellen saw him in conversation with the Marquess. Lord Wiltshire’s serious expression seemed to indicate the same.

  Penny’s hand suddenly gripped Ellen’s more tightly. “Never mind, it is in the past now, and Richard has sworn to do anything he can to help you.”

  “Is father coming to town? Will he bring John?”

  Penny shook her head. “No, he has not conceded yet, but Richard is certain he will. We are to be as bold and brash as we can be. Julie has already told me of the ball she has planned for next week. We will introduce you as our long lost sister, make up some nonsense about you being injured in France and losing your memory. We shall make it a tragedy which the ton will dine on, and extol Edward as your saviour. You will both be heroes when we are done and then the week after Richard and I will host a ball for you.”