by Jane Lark
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 would 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 there, 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.”
“Ah, tea,” Julie exclaimed at a knock on the drawing-room door, rising and moving to commence organising and pouring, followed by the other women, leaving Ellen and Penny alone.
Leaning towards her sister, Ellen whispered, “But there are those who will know the truth, Penny. What if your tale is denied?”
“Nonsense.” Smiling, Penny waved the comment aside. Ellen knew it expressed Penny’s security in her position in society. As children that confidence had been Ellen’s too. But Penny neither knew the fickle nature of society, nor its sordid secrets. Ellen did. “They would not dare when Richard, David, James and father are involved, as well as Edward’s family.”
Ellen was unconvinced, but she said no more and accepted a teacup from Julie. The conversation progressed to less contentious subjects then. Her sisters talked of their plans in town, discussing things they would do together. Ellen merely listened. She was awed by it, feeling as though she was looking down from above on this cosy parlour scene with her family. It was like a dream. She did not feel a part of it. She could not believe her sisters were sat about her, fully grown, wives and mothers, discussing fashions and functions, the years which had passed between their last encounter and today merely swept away—a nothingness—a lie.
Edward came to her, pressing his fingers on her shoulder and she felt his silent offer of reassurance in her heart. Again he’d sensed her moment of need, and as she looked upwards seeking to say thank you in her eyes, he smiled and then mouthed, “You will become used to it.”
Used to being part of a family again, to being loved, to being secure—she wanted to, and yet a part of her was afraid of how much further she would have to fall if it all went wrong, and how much more it would hurt.
~
The next evening Edward silently watched Ellen preparing for the theatre from the open door of their adjoining rooms. She was looking herself over in the mirror. She wore the green evening dress he’d purchased for her in York, saving her London gowns for the entertainments her sisters had planned. She was, as ever, beautiful, but he doubted she saw it even now.
Having seen her sisters he knew beauty ran in the family. They’d been identical in coloring, and yet to him Ellen would always be the most perfect. He smiled, and she must have glimpsed his movement because she turned.
“What have you there?” she asked, looking at the velvet box he’d forgotten he held in his hand.
“A present,” he responded, walking into the room. He had not lied at all when he’d told her he wished her to look equal to the women she would be introduced to, and on the last occasion she’d worn this dress he had noticed his one omission, jewellery. A woman simply could not go abroad in London without some bauble at her throat. He smiled. He could little afford this, but he would worry about that later when they had John back. “Turn back to the mirror,” he ordered. “I’ll show you.”
As she did so he moved behind her, snapping open the box and setting it aside. Then taking the single short string of pearls, he reached across her head, sliding them about her throat, settling them at the base of her neck. They were the perfect accessory for the dress, with its ivory petticoat, just as he’d imaged.
Her fingers touched them and he saw her pale blue eyes crystallize with tears, in the mirror. “They’re beautiful, Edward, but you should not have bought them.” Her look lifted from studying the pearls in her reflection to meet his gaze.
“I wanted to,” he answered. “Do you think I would accompany my wife to the theatre without first dressing her appropriately?”
She turned, reached her arms about his neck, lifted to her toes and pressed a brief kiss on his cheek. “I have no idea how I can thank you for all you are doing.”
He held her in return and leaned to whisper to her ear as Jill walked into the room. “I know how—tonight, wear just the pearls to bed.”
“Edward!” Slapping his arm Ellen pulled away. He let her go, laughing, as Jill flashed them an intrigued glance.
“Come along then wife, we ought to hurry, my aunt will never forgive us if we are late.” Still laughing, he turned to the maid. “Fine work, Jill, as ever, your mistress is perfection without your help but there is no harm in a bit of polish.”
Jill smiled in answer as he led Ellen from the room.
He knew Ellen was nervous, meeting her sisters yesterday had done her good and given her more courage, but it was not in her nature to be sure of herself. And she’d talked at length over dinner last night of her past. She’d married Paul before having a season in town. She’d never come to London with her family. All she’d known of the capital was its vulgar side. He’d vowed to give it back to her—that time—the life she’d lost. It was becoming just as important to him as getting John back and he was genuinely hopeful now that things would come about. Her brothers-in-law had all joined her cause and their combined influence outweighed her father’s tenfold. So Edward had every reason to feel congenial as they descended the stairs, until his eyes were suddenly drawn from Ellen to a movement in the hall.
“Jenkins, is Edward in?”
Robert stood below, handing off his gloves and hat.
Stopping, Edward stared downward with Ellen poised beside him, her fingers clinging to his arm. Instantly Edward’s ire rose, but he swallowed it back, feeling Ellen tense.
What the hell did Robert want?
Brazenly acting as though Robert had not recently assaulted Ellen, Edward gritted his teeth and recommenced their decent, determined not to respond to any provocation. He wanted Ellen to be comfortable and confident tonight. He would zap her confidence instantly if he argued with Robert before they left. Still at least they were leaving and he need not stay in and tolerate Robert’s company.
Staring at his brother, when Robert noticed their movement and looked up, Edward offered him a mistrustful glare; not making him welcome in his own home. “We are going out,” Edward clarified before Robert could speak, while Ellen’s grip stiffened on his arm. “And if you have come here to cause trouble, we shall leave your house tomorrow and go to Forth’s.”
Robert’s usual ironic, devil-may-care smile twitching at his lips, Edward could see not an ounce of repentance in Robert’s face. “What a lovely tableau,” Robert mocked. “I am glad to find you here, actually, but where are you going? May I join you?”
“No,” Edward responded.
But beside him Ellen drew a deep breath and launched into speech as they descended from the bottom step. “We are going to the theatre with your aunt and cousins. Edward has purchased a box and there is room for one more if you wish to attend, Lord Barrington.”
Edward looked his disapproval, glowering at Ellen. It did not deter her. She did not even glance in his direction as she faced Robert.
Robert rubbed Edward’s nose in it. “Your wife is sensible, Ed. Forth wrote and told me what you are about. My absence will raise questions. I have come to support you. Take it, or leave it, as you wish.”
Not an apology, no remorse.
Eyeing his brother cynically, Edward could do little but let Robert participate; now he was here. If Robert made his disapproval known it may indeed tip their boat. Then of course there was the old analogy—keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. He did not trust a word his brother said, for good reason—he had assaulted Ellen, for God’s sake. But if Robert was within sight and earshot, he was less likely to do anything offensive.
“Very well, you may come,” Edward tossed the words in his brother’s general direction, then turned to the door, but sadly not before he’d noted Robert’s instant smile. It only increased Edward’s mistrust.
“I’ll meet you there,” Robert confirmed, his bright tone poking Edward’s suspicion further. “Which theatre?”
“Drury Lane, the performance commences in an hour. We are going via your aunt’s,” Ellen held Edward back to explain.
Why she was inviting Robert after what he’d done, Edward could not understand. By rights Robert deserved for her to cut him dead. It seemed no one could be relied upon to support him properly; Rupert had called Robert down to London before and now Forth had done the same, meddling in Edward’s disagreement. Edward’s life was none of his brother’s business. He wished people would stop interfering.
“In an hour then,” Robert said, nodding at Ellen, before hastily strolling towards the stairs and ascending at a jog. Edward watched him, he was looking bloody happy with himself for no apparent reason, as usual.
Jenkins opened the front door and Edward led Ellen out and on down the steps, grumbling, “Why on earth are you tolerating him, after what he did?”
Her fingers gently squeezed his arm. “Don’t be too hard on him, Edward. I do believe he means good.”
“Then you do not know my brother,” he answered as a footman held open the door of his brother’s secondary carriage.
“Edward, I’m sure he had no intention of really seducing me at Farnborough,” Ellen responded, glancing at him as he handed her up.
“No? Then as I said before, you do not know Robert. He never does anything without deliberation, and he never does anything to be nice.” He climbed up behind her and slid into the seat next to her. The footman snapped the door shut.
Why on earth she felt the need to defend Robert was beyond him. The carriage drew away. She was silent. Edward looked over at her. Taking her fingers in his, he weaved his in between hers. “Are you all right?” He knew the answer from the tenseness in her body.
She looked at him. “No, I feel awful. I’m terrified someone will know me.”
At least now when she set her defenses, she did not shut him out. Letting go her fingers, instead he reached his arm about her shoulders and drew her close. She willingly received his comfort, snuggling up and half turning, one hand sliding behind his back while the other pressed to his chest. “Did you not look at yourself in the mirror this evening?” he said to ease her fears. “You said to me nights ago you don’t recognize yourself anymore. You look different because you are more confident, no one will equate this woman with the old one and with my family in our company no one would dare say a thing even if they did.”
She sighed, the shadow of her lashes, cast by the lantern inside the carriage, flickering across her cheeks as her eyelids dropped then lifted. “I know you keep telling me this, but I still feel unsure. I suppose I shall not believe it until as usual you are proven right.” With another little sigh, she rested her cheek to the lapel of his evening coat, both arms now wrapped about his midriff holding him tightly. Her need of him sent a fresh rush of affection pumping from his heart. The woman had him thoroughly in her thrall. He’d do anything for her, ten times over. She gave him purpose. He’d not even known her three months ago, thank God he’d found her.
“I do try to be positive,” she whispered to his cravat pin.
Edward laughed. “Lord woman, you make it sound as though I hound you. Be brave darling, that is all you can be and you are.” He kissed her forehead with care not to disturb her hair, Jill’s artwork. “You amaze me. You are so tender hearted, Ellen. Lord knows how with the dice life cast you. I know what you have endured and survived, yet you are not bitter. A case in point your kindness to my thrice damned brother. You have no need to be generous to him after what he did.” At that she pulled away sitting up and facing him.
“He is your brother, Edward. You’ve restored my family to me. I will not set yours asunder in return. He made the effort to travel to town. Do you not think that is gesture enough to say he wants to make amends?”
Edward’s fingers brushing her cheek, he saw a vehement look form in her gaze. He sighed. She was taking Robert up as her cause. “I know Robert far better than you. It is a sign of his intent to make mischief, and nothing more. I only agreed to the bastard coming to keep an eye on him.”
“Edward,” she chided, ticking him off for his language. As pathetic as he had become, he enjoyed it.
“I cannot see why you are defending him against me in any case.” He dug deeper.
In response she looked horrified. “I am not defending him against you. I wouldn’t. I am defending your relationship with your brother. All I ask Edward is that you give him a chance.”
“A chance?” he laughed, but the sound was hollow. “Do you have a short memory? Did you not hear how he prods my anger for the fun of it? And you say give him a chance. He assaulted you Ellen. I could not care less if he ever speaks to me again.”
Saying nothing, she just looked at him, and he could see her reading between the lines of his words and coming to her own conclusions. Conclusions which were a mile south of what he’d said, judging by her expression.
But further discussion on the subject was not possible as the carriage pulled up outside his aunt’s.
~
Their theatre box was high up, in line with the upper circle, which was a blessing. It meant few from the dress circle could see her. And despite Edward’s aunt urging her to sit in the outer seat Ellen physically claimed the seat by the wall, so she was partially obscured by the sweep of the box’s red velvet curtain. She was terrified someone would cry out, ‘there’s Gainsborough’s harlot’, pointing up at her, even though Gainsborough had never taken her anywhere other than the gaming hells he favoured.
She was sitting beside Edward’s cousin, Rowena, his aunt having finally agreed to take the outer seat. Edward’s brother sat behind his aunt, his cousin Rupert in the middle and Edward behind Ellen.
Her heart was thundering by the time the stage curtain swept up. The general chatter immediately subsided. Surreptitiously Ellen let her hand fall from her lap and it hung beside her chair, hopefully. Edward responded. She heard him cough then felt his fingers grip hers. Looking back across her shoulder she gave him a grateful smile. He’d leaned his elbows on to his knees and now sat with his chin resting on one fisted hand while the other held hers. She doubted, like so, he could see anything of the stage, but his touch gave her comfort. When she turned back to the performance, she heard Edward’s brother murmur to their cousin. Instinct whispered the subject was her, although she didn’t hear the words.
Ignoring it, with her fingers gripped securely in Edward’s, she allowed herself to concentrate upon the play, Shakespeare’s, Romeo and Juliet.
When the interval came, Edward’s brother
stood, and Edward’s fingers fell away as the Earl spoke. “Refreshments, ladies? Champagne, Aunt? Rowena, that shall be another treat. Ellen?” Turning to her, his voice grew deeper, and a smile tugged at his lips, while he awaited her response.
She nodded.
“Edward will accompany me, I’m sure,” The Earl concluded, looking from Ellen to Edward.
She looked at Edward too.
Rising, he smiled, a look which seemed to say, I promise not to hit him, I’ll be back soon, before turning to follow his brother.
When the door closed behind them, Ellen faced Rowena, answering a comment she’d made on the play, thanking heaven the bard’s more risqué writing, with its lewd innuendo, had gone over the girl’s head as it had gone over hers when she was young. Then Edward’s aunt tapped her daughter’s arm with her closed fan and nodded towards a family across the theatre Rowena may know, turning the girl’s attention away from Ellen.
Lord Rupert slid across into the seat Edward had vacated.
“You have him by a hook.” He whispered bluntly.
Ellen swallowed, looking back. What did he mean? But before she could respond he continued.
“I never thought he’d draw you away from Gainsborough, I’d told him so. But I hadn’t realized you were angling for marriage. If you think you’ve found security though you’re mistaken, Edward has no income.”
Anger heating her skin, Ellen glanced at his sister. Rowena had not heard. She was still speaking with her mother. Ellen twisted in her chair and glared at Lord Rupert. “As Edward shall tell you,” she whispered bitterly. “I was angling for nothing. When Edward made his offer and persuaded me to accept it, he made it very clear he had no income. I do not care. So pray—tell me something I do not know, my Lord. If you are seeking to set me against him you’ll not succeed.”
“He is a poor love sick fool to even make such an offer. He’s infatuated.” he scoffed. “Before you, he lived a sheltered life, all work. He will tire of you when this adventure—this fight for your son—is over.”