Timeless Regency Collection: A Midwinter Ball

by Heidi Ashworth

“Then why did he do it?” Ella asked, saddened at the image of the young man who had taken her fishing going willingly to meet his death.

  “Because he’d called Crayton out, and rash though that might have been, Henry wasn’t one to back down. He felt he had to go. He and I never agreed on that.” Mr. Darling squeezed her hand in a gesture of comfort, and Ella glanced down, startled to discover that sometime during their conversation he had become the one attempting to soothe.

  “And your arm?” Her gaze slid to the motionless limb.

  “When I came to and realized what Henry had done, I hurried to find him. I arrived in time to see him fall from Crayton’s shot. I picked up his pistol, intending to finish what he’d started, but Crayton fired before I’d even taken aim. I don’t know if he meant to kill me or simply to disarm—no pun intended.” Mr. Darling’s expression was grim. “But he injured me enough that I was unable to get Henry help in time, and he died as a result. My arm became so infected I nearly lost it. Only Gregory’s insistence that the doctors not amputate allowed me to keep it. Instead of amputating, they removed as much of the infected areas as they could—much of the innards of my arm. It was a torturous, bloody surgery and no little miracle I didn’t die from it. For a long time I wished that I had.”

  Ella worried that there were times he still did. “Does it pain you now?” she asked, her brow wrinkling with concern.

  “Only in the sense of inconvenience. It pains me that I cannot do the things I once did—that I cannot accept an invitation to dine among friends, cannot dance at a ball, cannot help a young lady from her horse.”

  “You just did.” Ella tugged her hand free and looked away, hoping to hide the swell of emotion engulfing her. Struggling with a constricted throat and stinging eyes, she tried to make sense of her tender feelings. Were they due to learning more about Henry Benton, or were they more from the compassion she felt for Mr. Darling—compassion she feared he would interpret as pity and therefore shut her out, as it seemed he had most everyone else? He had not even taken supper with them the previous night, and Lady Benton had confirmed what Ella had previously suspected—that Mr. Darling chose to be alone, rather than risk embarrassing himself or causing those around him discomfort.

  “Our ride has left me quite famished,” Ella said, when she trusted herself to speak once more. “Shall we join Lord and Lady Benton for breakfast?”

  “Thank you, but I have dined already,” Mr. Darling said.

  “At least come for conversation then,” Ella insisted and waited for him to step up beside her. “Lord Benton shall surely be appreciative of another gentleman to sway the conversation away from the fashions of last night’s ball.”

  “My sister does like to talk of clothing, doesn’t she?” Mr. Darling said, and Ella sensed his indecision. Taking advantage, she placed her hand upon his good arm.

  “But I should prefer to talk of horses. Please say you’ll join us.”

  “Very well,” he said at last.

  Progress. Ella supposed she should put on a morning gown but feared that taking the time to do so might be time enough for Mr. Darling to change his mind. So, conscious of the buttons on her jacket, she instead pulled him along toward the breakfast room where they found Lord and Lady Benton already seated and eating.

  Each looked up as Mr. Darling entered, with Ella on his arm. And while Lord Benton managed to cover his surprise, Lady Benton appeared so astonished that she nearly dropped her glass. Her gaze slid from her brother to Ella, upon whom she bestowed a look of warm appreciation.

  Ella smiled as she exchanged their silent correspondence.

  “And how was Stoutheart this morning?” Lord Benton asked.

  “Perfectly marvelous,” Ella answered before Mr. Darling could. The astonished expression returned to Lord Benton’s face.

  “You allowed her near Stoutheart? I had to wait months for that privilege, and we are practically brothers.”

  Mr. Darling handed a plate to Ella. “Lady Ella has both considerable experience with and knowledge of horses. She was not the least frightened or intimidated, but took to Stoutheart and he to her quite easily.

  “Your horse must prefer women,” Lord Benton mumbled as he returned to eating. Though his words were grumpy, Ella caught the jest in them as well.

  She filled her plate alone, conscious of Mr. Darling standing a short ways off. Has he really eaten already? She had never before considered the difficulties involved in serving oneself breakfast from a sideboard if only one hand was available. It would be impossible to both hold one’s dish and serve at the same time. And most sideboards allowed no extra space where a plate might rest while being filled. But could not such a design be constructed? Easier yet, could not the dishes be placed on the table within easy reach for those eating to serve themselves? She found herself irritated that no one had thought of that.

  Mr. Darling stood waiting at the chair beside his sister. This he pulled out for Ella when she had finished serving herself. Then he took the chair on her other side.

  “I almost forgot,” Lady Benton said, her hand flying to her chest in sudden excitement. “A letter for Lady Ella arrived this morning. Do give it to her, Gregory,” she instructed her husband.

  Lord Benton withdrew an envelope from his jacket and handed it to her.

  “From my father, perhaps,” she said excitedly as she tore the letter open. “Dear Lady Eleanora.” She paused and tried to mask her disappointment. “Or perhaps not.” She smiled bravely and bent her head to continue reading in silence.

  It was lovely to see you at last night’s ball. You showed definite pluck and the ability to think and act for yourself. It is my hope we will have the opportunity to see each other again soon and become better acquainted.

  Yours,

  An admirer

  “How peculiar.” Ella glanced up from the paper to find all three studying her.

  “Who is it from?” Lady Benton asked.

  “I haven’t any idea.” Ella pushed the paper closer to Lady Benton so she might read it.

  “Pluck? The ability to think for yourself? What odd compliments—if that is what they are intended to be.”

  “May I see the letter?” Lord Benton asked. Ella nodded, and Lady Benton handed it across the table for him to read. “Very odd,” he agreed upon finishing. “What do you make of it, Alex?”

  Mr. Darling leaned across the table and took the letter in his good hand. He too read it, then shrugged. “It does not seem so odd to me that Lady Ella should garner an admirer. Is that not what she is aiming for when the Season begins? Generally, a man must admire a woman before he proposes marriage to her.”

  “Generally, a man admires a woman’s form—or her gown or hair or manners or something feminine,” Lady Benton said.

  “Obviously this man,”—Mr. Darling allowed the letter to fall to the table—“cares about more than how fashionably a woman is dressed.”

  “Who do you think wrote it?” Lord Benton asked Ella. “Aside from Lord Dersingham, were there any other gentlemen who paid you special attention last night?”

  “As her chaperones, shouldn’t you know?” Mr. Darling sent reprimanding looks at both his sister and Lord Benton.

  “Lord Lewes enjoyed your company as well, did he not?” Lady Benton said to Ella.

  “I believe so,” Ella said. “We danced.” And then there had been the mysterious Mr. Woodword, daring her to go out to the balcony as he had. Of any who might express admiration of her pluck, she guessed it would be him.

  “I suppose we shall have to wait and see if your admirer reveals himself at tomorrow’s ball,” Lady Benton said.

  “But I am going home today,” Ella said, feeling slightly panicked at the idea of being away even longer. What if Papa returns home for me and I am gone?

  “We have already been invited,” Lord Benton said. “All of us.” This time it was he sending a pointed look at Mr. Darling.

  “You know I cannot attend balls,” Mr. Darling said. />
  “Cannot or will not?” Ella asked without thinking.

  “Both.” Mr. Darling pushed back his chair. “It is not a subject up for discussion.”

  “I apologize.” Ella turned in her chair to face him. “What you do or do not do is none of my concern.” I shouldn’t have pushed him. But she could not seem to help thinking that his life could and ought to be better than it was.

  “Apology accepted,” he said, some of the frost vanished from his tone. “I do, however, think that you should attend tomorrow’s ball, Lady Ella. It would behoove us to discover just who this admirer is.”

  “I do not know if I can stay in this city another day.” Her hands fidgeted in her lap, and she noticed her topmost button had come undone again.

  “Would it help if I promised to take you riding again tomorrow?” Mr. Darling asked. “I know it is not the same as riding in the hills you are used to, but—”

  “It would help immensely.” Ella sent him a smile of gratitude.

  “In that case,”— He stood and addressed Ann—“may I suggest, dear sister, that you spend today making use of your fashionable sensibilities and connections and secure for Lady Ella a riding habit that fits.”

  Chapter Nine

  London, December 1819

  Dear Lady Eleanora,

  Your cleverness and skill last night at whist quite impressed me. Little wonder that so many were vying to be your partner. It is my hope that I may have that honor sometime soon.

  Yours,

  An admirer

  “His letters do not seem to get any longer,” Alex remarked as he reached across Stoutheart to return Lady Ella’s most recent note from her as yet unknown beau.

  “But clearly he is someone with whom I am acquainted, and who frequents the same events as I.” She folded the paper and tucked it in the pocket of her new riding habit.

  “It would seem so.” Alex stroked his chin thoughtfully as he noted how the dark green fabric of her jacket complemented her dark hair and eyes. “Yet he continues to remain vague. He never actually admits to dancing with you, being your partner, escorting you into dinner. It is almost as if he wishes to do all those things, but cannot. That he is the bystander looking on with desire.”

  So close to the truth were the words to his feelings that Alex urged Stoutheart to a quickened trot, lest Lady Ella think he was confessing to being her admirer.

  “I had not considered that.” She kept pace and had the further advantage of looking at him as they rode, seated sidesaddle as she was.

  Alex worked to hide his growing feelings for her, a task that had become increasingly difficult over the past weeks. “I see no rush to discover this gentleman’s identity. You’ve callers aplenty as it is.” Hardly a day had passed since the Duke of Salisbury’s ball that she did not receive callers—many of them gentlemen whom she had danced with at balls the previous evenings and who expressed interest in becoming better acquainted with her.

  “I am not after more visitors.” Lady Ella laughed. “I am hoping for less. When my admirer makes himself known to me, I shall be free to dismiss the others who call and spend my time going driving with the man who is so eloquent and complimentary.”

  “I do believe his words are starting to go to your head.” Alex twisted his mouth in mock disgust, while feeling just that about himself. I can never take her driving. Controlling Stoutheart with a single hand was one thing. He could never risk harming Lady Ella by attempting to drive a buggy and team with only his left hand.

  “Better that I love a man’s words than his money,” she said. “Ann keeps encouraging me to go after Lord Lewes, as he is particularly flush in the pockets. But that is not at all why I care for him.”

  “What do you see in him?” Alex asked, having found Lewes particularly annoying as of late.

  “He makes me laugh,” Lady Ella said, a wistful smile on her face, “and forget my troubles.”

  “I thought riding made you forget your troubles,” Alex said.

  “It does,” she agreed. “But only when I ride so fast that it feels as if I am flying.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” With a signal to Stoutheart, Alex was off, Lady Ella following so close they were nearly neck and neck. He knew the second her ribbon tore free; he noticed when her concentration was taken over by habit, as she ceased biting her lip and a smile broke out across her face.

  How he loved that smile and these mornings with her. Who would have believed, just eight short weeks ago, that he would be enjoying this time in London? That he would have found friendship in the most unlikely of places—with Henry’s fiancée? For the first time in many years, he had something to look forward to each day.

  Thank you. Alex sent his silent gratitude heavenward and tried to feel content with this time he had—more than Henry had been granted.

  Once Lady Ella’s admirer was revealed, Alex knew everything would change. But for now, for two joyous hours every morning, he was with her and that was enough.

  Chapter Ten

  January 1820, Eve of the midwinter ball

  “Wherever did this come from, and why have you not worn it?” Lady Benton exclaimed as she watched Lucy remove the white gown from Ella’s trunk.

  “Paris. It was a gift from my father. And the lace itches terribly.” Ella winced as Lucy pulled a curling paper from her hair. The holiday at the Benton’s country home had been lovely, but now they were returned to London for the Season, and Ella was not at all certain that she should have allowed them to talk her into coming.

  “How do you know it itches? Have you ever worn it?” Lady Benton took the gown from Lucy and laid it across the bed .

  “No,” Ella admitted. “But just feel it.” She watched in the glass as Lady Benton did just that.

  “It is exquisite. How perfect that you have saved your loveliest gown for the ball we are to host. You must wear it tonight. You’ll be all the rage, and heads will be turning everywhere.”

  Ella grimaced. “I should prefer everyone’s heads to stay on straight, thank you.”

  Lady Benton laughed. “Oh, Ella, you have spoiled me so with your humor these past weeks. I fear that I shall never again be able to endure London without it.”

  “You may have to soon,” Ella said. “For I really must go home before the end of the month. My father said he would be returning to England soon.” She hadn’t gone home for Christmas because the thought of spending it by herself—after enjoying the companionship of Lord and Lady Benton and Mr. Darling—had been too disheartening. And now she had returned to London not because of the balls or dinner parties, not because of the continued shopping trips with Lady Benton, and certainly not because of the gentlemen who called upon her. The one thing she would miss, the thing she felt holding her here was not a thing at all, but rather an extraordinary man and his horse.

  Riding with Mr. Darling each morning had become the highlight of her day. At first, she had felt that way simply because of the opportunity to ride, and to ride alongside such a magnificent creature as Stoutheart. But gradually her reasons for cherishing that time had changed, and of late she found herself looking forward to Mr. Darling’s company more than anything or anyone else. The thought of parting from him brought her much sorrow—more even than she had felt at leaving home. And so she had delayed her departure, using her as yet undiscovered suitor as an excuse. That he had known her whereabouts over the holiday and continued to send correspondence was both intriguing and concerning. But mostly, at present, it provided a convenient excuse.

  Lady Benton called admittance to Mrs. Prichard, and she entered the room. “Another letter has arrived for Lady Eleanora.” Mrs. Prichard handed Ella the envelope.

  “Thank you.” Ella broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, knowing it was of no use to put off reading the letter, as Lady Benton’s curiosity surpassed her own in the matter.

  “What does he say this time?” Lady Benton left the gown and came to stand behind Ella.

  With reluctance
, she began to read.

  Dear Lady Eleanora,

  These past weeks have been sweet torture as I have missed being in your presence. As the new year has arrived, let us therefore usher out the old and welcome in the new with the midnight waltz at the midwinter ball.

  If my words have at all touched your heart, please say yes when—just before midnight—a gentleman requests your hand for our dance.

  Yours affectionately,

  An admirer

  “Oh my.” Lady Benton placed her hands over her heart. “You will discover your devoted this very night!”

  “Yes.” Ella stared at her forlorn reflection in the glass. After tonight, she would no longer have an excuse for remaining in London. And worse, after tonight she would have to decide if her admirer was someone she wished to have as an ardent suitor. What if he requests my hand for more than a dance? She’d professed that she did not wish to find a husband, and she meant it. Though if she ever were to marry, her best chance to do so was now.

  So why does the prospect of discovering my suitor make me sad? The answer was both obvious and disturbing. I am happy with life as it is right now, with Mr. Darling as my friend. And it could not be he who had written the letters. He would never invite her to dance. He rarely attended any of the evening events, preferring to stay home alone.

  Ella wished fervently that she might stay in her room tonight also. For in all probability, everything was about to change.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alex tugged on his watch fob and withdrew his watch from his vest pocket, checking the time once again. Eleven forty-three. On the far side of the Benton’s ballroom, Lady Ella stood on the outskirts of a group of women clustered around his sister.

  Discussing who is wearing the best and worst gowns tonight, no doubt. Personally, he thought Lady Ella’s outdid them all. Or perhaps it was simply that she outshone all of the other ladies in attendance—regardless of what she wore. At least one other man here shared his opinion, and Alex both desired and dreaded to know who it was.