Ella

by Virginia Taylor

  “What do you think of him as a man?”

  “He’s...” Ella cleared her throat. “He’s a very good man. I have to tell you that my sister says she is in love with him. She swears she’ll marry him.”

  A sudden smile lit Mr. Lynton’s face. “That is very, very good news.”

  “I must explain, though, that my sister is eleven years old. She might change her mind by the time she is of marriageable age.”

  “Oh, your youngest sister.” He looked away, rubbing a forefinger along his moustache. “And what about Miss Rose? Does she like him, too?”

  “You might ask her, for here she is.”

  “Ask me what?”

  “Let me introduce you to Mr. Lynton, Rose. My sister, Rose, Mr. Lynton.”

  The man stood and took Rose’s hand in his, bending over her wrist with gallantry. “Delighted to finally meet you.”

  “He wants to know what you think of Cal.”

  Rose smiled placidly. “I assume he is a very good shearer. The other men thought well of him.” She glanced under her lashes at Mr. Lynton. “And he did us a personal service.”

  Mr. Lynton bowed. “Perhaps he has very good prospects. Would that make a difference to you?”

  “I would be glad that he had good prospects,” Rose said. “But on the whole, shearers don’t interest me. They’re rough and poorly spoken, as a rule, and I would hardly call their work stimulating. I prefer gentlemen who are prepared to dance the night away.”

  “In that case, do not let me detain you,” Mr. Lynton said. He bowed in Ella’s direction and left the ballroom.

  * * * *

  Cal rose slowly to his feet, frowning at Edward. “She seriously said that shearers don’t interest her? Every one of us thought the world of her.”

  “Her sister spoke more highly of you.”

  “Her sister doesn’t have more than two thoughts in her head and both of them are about herself.”

  Edward frowned and recrossed his legs in his comfortable leather armchair. “I had another opinion of each lady entirely.”

  Cal could focus on nothing other than Ella’s words. He paced across the thick Chinese carpet to the doorway and back. “Though she repeated time after time she wanted a rich husband. I knew she was determined. Why am I surprised she has barely given me a thought?” He pressed his forehead with his fingertips trying to clear his head. The ache in his chest almost brought him to a halt. “Glad for me! Perhaps I will make her even gladder by showing her how easily a rich man can evade the grasp of the best play actress in the colony.”

  He flung open the door and strode to the huge mirror in the hall, where he straightened his white tie, flicked the shoulders of his black jacket with his gloves, and tugged them on. Beneath a fresh haircut, a face pale with determination gazed back at him. He couldn’t say he cared. Shooting his cuffs, he paced to the ballroom doors.

  As he neared the area, the orchestra struck up from the balcony. For a moment, he hesitated in the doorway, trying to spot Ella. The room was too crowded to pick her out.

  “Charlton,” he heard, and he spotted his mother hurrying toward him. “I’m afraid you’ve lost—”

  “Not now,” he said. “Do I know anyone here who might accept me for the first waltz?”

  Without a change of expression, she turned and presented him to a pretty young hopeful. He merely indicated the floor and, with studied grace, Miss Paterson partnered him. During their first two full turns of the room, while she commented on the size of the ballroom and the number of people present, he was conscious of being recognized and pointed out. He hoped Ella noticed. He wouldn’t acknowledge her, of course, until she had seen him ignoring her. Then he would introduce himself as Charlton Lynton, the rich man she had irrevocably lost.

  With a hidden anger, he deposited Miss Paterson with her mother. Then he spotted Grace McLaren among a group of young ladies. Because she and her brother had been so hospitable to him over the past few weeks, he asked if she might honor him with the next dance. Before he finished his sentence, she glided into his arms. She talked about her family’s connections as they circled the floor.

  At the other side of the room, he spotted her brother, Daniel, dancing with a blonde dressed in ice blue. He waltzed Grace toward them, wondering if McLaren was with the woman he was hoping to make his wife. When he got close enough he realized McLaren looked grim, which was so exactly Cal’s mood that he smiled bitterly.

  “McLaren,” he said in acknowledgment.

  “Ha,” said McLaren, swinging his partner off the floor. “Lynton, just the man I want to see.”

  Cal followed, assuming his friend expected to talk to him. His glance froze on McLaren’s partner. “Miss Beaufort,” he said with the barest movement of his lips. Rose looked much younger not wearing black and probably beautiful. Her blue eyes widened and she stared at him as if stunned.

  “You know each other?” McLaren asked. “Miss Beaufort has been insisting that I introduce you to her, but I now see it is a waste of time.”

  Miss Rose swallowed. “You are Charlton Lynton?”

  “At your service,” replied Cal, who didn’t intend to be at her or her sister’s service for a single minute throughout the duration of his life.

  “And you’ve always been Charlton Lynton?”

  “My full name is Charlton Alfred Langdon Lynton. My close friends and family call me Cal, for obvious reasons.”

  “I think I’m going to faint. And if you let me make such a fool of myself here, Daniel McLaren, I won’t marry you.”

  “I thought you wanted to marry Charlton?”

  “Daniel,” she said, not looking any more pallid than her usual colorless self. “No woman with pride would accept being told she didn’t have enough money to be an acceptable bride and then being taken up again when she had more money. I intended to teach you a lesson. I certainly won’t be marrying C—Mr. Lynton. I don’t happen to be in love with him.”

  Grace clung to Cal’s arm. “Perhaps we ought to leave these two,” she said in an arch whisper.

  “Indeed. I’ll take you back to your group. McLaren, let me know when you have sorted this out, and I’ll dance at your wedding.”

  Cal now knew the truth of his identity would be told to Ella and that he only had to wait to wreak his vengeance. The time came sooner than expected. Before he’d returned Grace, having been stopped twice by acquaintances, Ella approached him.

  “Cal,” she said, her face stiff. “You are the heir.”

  “I am the heir,” Cal stated, narrowing his eyes. She looked the perfect amber statue, slim and elegant, dangerously controlled, and with not a flyaway hair in sight.

  “You lied to me.”

  “I didn’t once lie to you,” he said tersely. “I simply didn’t tell you my business. And why would I?” He glanced at Grace, who gave him a sympathetic nod.

  Grace took his arm in a proprietary hold and expressed disdain with the jut of her chin. “Indeed, for ladies don’t discuss business as a rule.”

  Following her lead and glad of time to think, Cal said, “Not ladies of your class, at least.”

  Grace gave him a pleased smile, and he recalled the conversation at the Beaufort’s outdoor table when Rose told some cobbled story about him flirting with Grace. From somewhere he dredged up an answering smile that he hoped looked complicit with Daniel’s tiresome sister.

  “May I introduce Miss Ella Beaufort to you, Grace? Miss Grace McLaren.”

  Ella nodded briskly at Grace. Never one to stop until she had finished, she said in a voice rigid with outrage, “You know you should have told me because I gave my wool clip to you. I trusted you with my family’s future, you, a man who didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me who he really was.”

  “Why should my name make a difference?”

  Ella’s eyes widened. “I just told you why.”

  Grace shook her head reprovingly. “Poor Rose would be shocked
to hear her sister—” She didn’t continue because Ella swished her skirts and flurried off.

  “Thank you,” Cal said distractedly to Grace, then he left to follow Ella. After three hasty steps, he grabbed her elbow and swung her around to face him. “If you had known I was rich, you would have thrown yourself at me,” he said through his teeth.

  She flattened her expression. “Didn’t I? When I didn’t know who you were?”

  She had indeed. He dropped his hold on her, blinking.

  “I’m going home now,” she said in a deadly whisper. “And I hope I never see you again.” She marched out into the hall, leaving him with a view of her erect head, her beautiful curves, and the bouncing bell of her skirt.

  He stood for a moment, disoriented. He was the one who’d been discarded, not she, yet she had somehow reversed the situation. Tearing his concentration from the doorway, he noticed that the closer guests watched him. As he frowned at each in turn, they began new conversations. He stood alone for a lifetime.

  A light touch on his arm swiveled his gaze.

  “That was badly done,” his mother said. “Miss Beaufort won’t like you quarrelling with her sister.”

  “Why should I care what Rose might like?” he said in a growl.

  “That’s hardly the attitude to take with the woman you love.”

  “Love Rose? I barely know her. And aside from that, I can’t love anyone while Ella has a complete...stranglehold on my heart.”

  “Ella?” Irene wet her lips. “Miss Dorella? Well! We made a mistake, Edward and I. We thought you wanted Rose.”

  “Ella was the sister who said Cal was a good man,” Edward said from behind him. “She had nothing but praise of him.”

  Cal felt his heart solidify into a lump of lead in his chest. “Ella? You confused Ella with Rose. My God. What have I done?”

  “Nothing irredeemable, I hope. I sent her home in my carriage. She told me she would probably kick the upholstery, but I assume she will be calmer tomorrow. We can try again then.”

  “We won’t try again. She is my woman and my problem.”

  Chapter 20

  Fortunately Vianna was fast asleep when Ella returned. She undressed and slipped quickly into bed.

  Lying motionless and keeping her tears to a silent gush over her cheeks, Ella tried to forget tall, dark, handsome Cal. Rich Cal. Lying Cal. The man who had pleasured her, apparently craving diversion with a woman not of his class. Doubtless, he’d chosen the easier mark of the sisters, the plain one who had never had an admirer in her life.

  Deliberately, she turned her mind to Daniel, very ordinary looking, of average height and with reddish hair and eyelashes, certainly a wise choice for her sister, a steady man, not one born to great privilege, not spoiled nor deliberately cruel, not one who would lie to a woman for his own gain.

  Tired and headachy, in the vast silence of dawn she arose from bed. Not wanting to face Vianna’s inquisition about the night before, for some time she lingered in the drawing room. When she heard the servants clattering in the kitchen across the courtyard she, who disliked cooking, offered to make a fruit medley. Even then, she didn’t escape the servants’ questioning about the ball. She declared the occasion “very fine” and kept a smile pinned to her face. Finally, when Mrs. Cameron rang for breakfast, Ella went back over to the main house, preparing to face the storm.

  “You made a hit with Mr. Edward Lynton,” Aunt said placidly. “He told me he sent you home in his carriage. Is your headache better?”

  Ella had heard Aunt and Rose arrive home very late. She nodded. Mr. Lynton must have passed on the excuse she gave him for searching outside in the dark for a carriage to take her home. “Did you have a nice time?”

  “The best. My darling Rose is engaged to Daniel McLaren. I had higher hopes for her, but her happiness is paramount. Oh, Vianna, sweet, have you heard the news?”

  Vianna had dressed, but Ella would have bet she hadn’t washed. Her hair had been combed at the front and was tangled at the back. “That’s why I’m at breakfast so early, to hear everything. Did Rose meet the heir?”

  Ella moistened her lips. “We both met him, but we already knew him.” She took a deep breath. “Cal is Charlton Lynton.”

  Vianna sat on a dining chair with a surprised thump. “That’s awful. Now every woman will want him.”

  “Not every woman.” With no appetite, Ella took a boiled egg from the dish.

  Aunt said, “I heard you spent some time with him.”

  “Not much time.”

  “I suppose he looked very dashing in a tail coat. I think he’s the handsomest man in the world.” Vianna reached for the toast.

  “He was a shearer on your property, I hear. I don’t suppose you had much contact with him.”

  “No meaningful contact. He lied about who he was.”

  “His grandfather is most distressed about that. It seems he told Charlton that he had to get by without using his family name, assuming that would force him to rethink leaving Farvista and going out on his own. But Charlton left anyway and didn’t need to use the Lynton name or his grandfather’s money. Mr. Lynton is very proud of him, but he’s quite disturbed about forcing the lad to use an alias. He takes full responsibility for that. You must forgive Charlton, my dear. He didn’t set out to deceive.”

  “However, he was quite satisfied that he had. I imagine he hoped he would never meet one of us again.” Ella took a bite of her toast, which tasted like cardboard.

  “He told me he would visit this afternoon to make his apologies to you.”

  “Oh, I don’t care if he is sorry or not. I told him I don’t want to see him again and I mean it. I’ll be out.”

  “I hope you will stay. Daniel will come by, too. He wants to meet his new sisters-to-be.”

  “And is Daniel the man Rose is to marry?” Vianna asked, soaking a soldier of toast in the yolk of her second egg.

  “They’ve been in love for two years, fancy that, and only now have their circumstances allowed them to make a commitment to each other.”

  Rose, dressed prettily in a soft pink floral gown, came in the room and sat beside Ella.

  “How do you do that?” Ella asked irritably. “Every time we start talking about you, you appear.”

  “Luck. Like having you sell the chestnuts for a small fortune. If you hadn’t been able to afford a house for you and Vianna, I wouldn’t have been able to marry Daniel. We would have had to leave the wool-clip money whole, and then I wouldn’t have had a penny for my dowry. Have you eaten all the toast, Vi?”

  “Ring for more.”

  “That explains why you are so mean about Mama’s jewelry, Rose.” Vianna licked her fingers. “You weren’t going to be sharing Ella’s house and so you didn’t think you should share your inheritance. I don’t know how I’m supposed to share the portrait of Mama, other than to let you both look at her whenever you like.”

  “You don’t have to share,” Ella said, annoyed. “Nor does Rose. I don’t suppose it ever occurred to either of you that I love you and would willingly contribute whatever I have to our security.”

  “I hope you will still say that when you are married to the richest man in the colony,” Rose said in an ironic voice.

  “I’m not going to marry him. I can’t bear him.” Ella stood so suddenly that she almost toppled her chair. “Aside from that, he despises me. To him I’m just a silly little country girl who amused him for a week or two. And I won’t let any man patronize me.” After flouncing out of the room, she discovered she had nowhere private to give in to her despair.

  If she didn’t find a house this week and move out, she would lose her mind.

  * * * *

  Not knowing the time Cal would arrive in his attempt to rebreak her heart, Ella hid in the tiny garden for two hours. Finally she decided she could ride along the river to the city, where she might spy a suitable house for sale. Thus far, Rose’s choosiness had prevented th
e purchase of three acceptable houses and only this morning Ella had discovered why. Rose had no intention of leaving Mrs. Cameron until she married.

  Ella changed into her riding dress and strode to the mews. Behind her she heard a patter of light racing feet. Turning, she saw a dog resembling Girl run toward her. The collie couldn’t be Girl. Ella saw no sign of Cal or any other rider. She began to walk again. The dog skidded to a halt and began to walk beside her, panting.

  “Girl? Is it you?”

  The dog stared ahead, tongue lolling.

  “If it is, you’d best go away. I’m not talking to you, and I’m not talking to your master. I don’t want your company, and I don’t want his. You never bothered with me before. I don’t know why you’re here now.”

  The dog sashayed in front of her and almost tripped her. Ella stopped and pointed in the other direction. “Go. Leave me. Shoo. Scatter the sheep. Round up the ants. I don’t want a dog with me.”

  The dog sat and stared at her, head to the side, eyes wide and innocent.

  “Do what you will. I’m going to take a ride.” She marched to the mews’ courtyard. “Hello. Anyone here?” The paved space echoed with silence. “I’ve come to get the piebald.”

  She heard a high-pitched, derisive yell and in the explosion of noise, her dun erupted out of the open stable door. Atop sat the stout man, swinging a rope like a lariat and urging the horse toward her. He dragged the reluctant piebald on a leading rope. Ella stepped back to the wall.

  “What on earth do you think you are doing?” She flattened herself against the cool stones. “Stop. Those are my horses.” The man clattered by. She reached for the piebald’s rope, but the man angled the horses out onto the clay road.

  The man swiveled in his saddle. He gave a fat grin. “They’re not yours, you low-down horse thief. They’re mine. You took ’em.”