Beloved

by Stella Cameron

  The envelope in her hand bore only her name—in a spidery hand. She extracted the paper inside.

  “Ella?” Papa persisted.

  She glanced up. “Do you think I should stay?”

  “Yes,” he told her. “And so does your mama.”

  “I do,” Mama agreed. “And we should not keep Miss Able waiting indefinitely.”

  “Show her up,” Great-Grandmama told the butler. “If you don’t need me, Ella, I think I shall retire until dinner. And you should busy yourself preparing to leave, Justine.”

  “Roses have been delivered,” Finch said. “Red and cream and yellow. And lilies. And a box wrapped in silver cloth. In the dining room. All for Miss Ella. I’ll show Miss Able up.” With silent, measured steps, he departed.

  “Tell me you will make this a happy time,” Mama asked Ella.

  Ella felt Great-Grandmama’s gaze and met her eyes. “I shall do very well with Great-Grandmama,” she said, noting how the old lady’s shoulders relaxed a little. “I should be upset if I thought I had kept you from my little brother and sister when they need you so.”

  “That’s that, then!” Papa smiled hugely. “Let’s leave Ella to her visitor. Isn’t this the girl who’s engaged to old Wokingham?”

  “Yes,” Ella and Mama said in unison.

  Mama laughed. “I believe I shall come with you at once, Struan.”

  Great-Grandmama went through the adjoining door to her bedchamber and Mama and Papa left the room, passing Precious Able as she came in.

  Awash in a froth of flounced, lavender gros de Naples with a profusion of silk violets beneath her bonnet brim, Precious bobbed and lowered her eyes demurely. The instant she was alone with Ella, she closed the door and rushed forward, arms outstretched, as if to meet an old and treasured friend. “I told that creepy old butler he needn’t come up with me,” she said breathlessly. “I said we knew each other really well and didn’t need him. Did I act precipitately?”

  Ella evaded Precious’s embrace by turning and indicating a chair. “This is a surprise,” she said, also evading the girl’s question. “Sit down. I’ll ring for some refreshment.” What could they possibly talk about? Why would Precious Able come at all?

  Precious plopped down, fluffing her skirts around her and settling a little velvet reticule on her lap. “No refreshments for me, please. I simply couldn’t eat a thing. I am beside myself, Ella. Beside myself. I searched my mind for someone to turn to—for a friend—and found none. But then I thought of you and I remembered how kind you were to me at the Eagletons’.”

  Kind? Ella remembered little kindness in their exchange. “Are you sure you wouldn’t care for some coffee? Or chocolate?”

  “Absolutely not.” Precious splayed a hand on her ample bosom and fluttered her red lashes toward the gold and cream plastered ceiling. “I could not force a single thing down my throat. I am in such a fuss, Ella. I’ve come to you because I sensed you have a good heart and that—although we do not know each other well—you may consider being a friend to someone who is alone and very troubled.”

  “Surely—” Ella broke off, torn between compassion and suspicion. “Surely your mama and papa—”

  “No!” Precious spread her arms and lay back in the chair. A tear coursed each cheek from wide-open eyes. “You do not understand. No one does. Not even my dearest Woky.”

  “I see.” Ella didn’t see at all. “Is this Woky—?”

  “Lord Wokingham. My intended. He is the very best of men. His extreme concern for my well-being—and my reputation, of course—may even be partly to blame for the agony of loneliness to which I am doomed.”

  “Agony of loneliness?”

  “Absolutely,” Precious said. “Ella, you are so beautiful. And green does become you so. What a perfectly lovely dress.”

  “Thank you.” Ella blinked at the change of topic. “Please don’t cry.” She produced a lace-edged handkerchief and took it to Precious.

  “Would you be my friend?” The girl leaned forward. “Would you?”

  Refusing friendship was outside Ella’s experience. “Why don’t you explain what has happened?”

  “Mama and Papa had to return to Lancashire.” The velvet reticule claimed the attention of Precious’s plump fingers. “You see, we are not particularly well off. I wouldn’t mention such a vulgar thing, but I feel a generosity in you. You are not a person who judges others on the basis of their wealth—or lack of it.”

  “No.” Ella understood a kind of desperate poverty Precious could not be expected to as much as imagine.

  “I am entrusted to my fianc#8217;s care.” Precious clutched the reticule. “I am lodged in his house until our wedding.”

  Uncertain as to what her reaction should be, Ella said nothing.

  “My companion is a boring woman provided by Woky. Agatha. A drab elderly maid who never speaks a word, except to chastise me.”

  “Surely you could speak to your fianc#8212;”

  “I could not,” Precious said, the picture of misery. “He is so good. And so kind. I cannot bring myself to complain about a single thing he does for me. He is providing for my every comfort. He spares no expense.”

  “But you are not happy.”

  “No.” Precious’s high voice soared even higher. “Woky is so concerned with propriety that he does not even allow himself to see me—except for brief moments with wretched Agatha in attendance.”

  Ella murmured sympathetically. “He never speaks to me other than in polite platitudes.” Warming a little to the other’s sadness, Ella pulled a chair close to Precious’s and sat down. “Evidently Lord Wokingham is determined to treat you with the utmost respect.” Even thinking about the Wokinghams turned Ella’s stomach, but she kept all hint of revulsion from her face. “Once you are married it will be different.” What a perfectly dreadful thought.

  “But I should like to know him a little first,” Precious wailed. More tears erupted from her eyes. “And I am so lo-lo-lonely.”

  “Pomeroy doesn’t talk to you?” Ella managed not to grit her teeth.

  “He’s angry.” The red lashes flickered downward. “He wanted me himself, but Woky would not have it.”

  “And you’re glad?” Ella asked softly. “Glad because you want to marry Lord Wokingham.”

  “Oooh!” Doubling over, Precious sobbed loudly. Her back heaved and her hands pawed at her voluminous skirts. “Oooh, what shall I do?”

  Horrified, and moved, Ella caught Precious’s hands and smoothed their backs. “Hush,” she said firmly. “Hush, Precious. Tell me what I can do to help you. I will if I can, you know.” The poor creature was undoubtedly the victim of her parents’ willingness to abandon her to strangers. Ella was too familiar with the tearing hurt of being tossed aside as if one had no worth.

  Gradually, the sobbing subsided. Precious sniffed and raised her head. Large, wet smudges marred her lavender skirts. She clutched Ella’s hands as if to hang on to life itself.

  “That’s better,” Ella told her, smiling reassurance. “You aren’t alone anymore.”

  “Th-thank you,” Precious said, and her face crumpled again. “You are so k-kind.”

  “Let’s be sensible.” This showed signs of being an even more trying day than had already proved to be the case. “You are to marry Lord Wokingham and this makes you happy. We must concentrate on that and find ways to help you deal with any loneliness.”

  “You don’t understand.” Precious made strangled sounds. “Can I tr-trust you, Ella? Am I right to assume you are good and true and would never divulge a confidence?”

  “I am not a gossip,” Ella said shortly. “I find no pleasure in the unhappiness of others.”

  “Oooh,” Precious whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut and crying afresh. “I think you will make what I must do bearable. I am so grateful to you. I don’t want to marry Woky. He’s good to me, but he’s old—and h-he drools a little.”

  Ella’s stomach made an entire revolution. She swallowed. “Th
en why are you marrying him?”

  “I must. I must do what my parents tell me to do. I must marry for money and position, and my prospects have seemed poor because we have so little wealth of our own. Mama and Papa say Woky is an answer to our prayers—a dream come true.”

  The stuff of nightmares rather than any dream Ella could imagine. “You should not do this thing if it is so distasteful to you.”

  “There is no choice. I am committed and I will do it.” Shifting forward on her chair, Precious blinked against moisture on her lashes. “And it will be all right, I know it will. It will be now that I have your friendship. I so needed someone honorable to trust, and I found you! This must seem strange, my coming to you like this. But I believe in divine providence, don’t you? I believe I was guided to come to you and that it was exactly the thing to do. You are the sweetest, most generous person I’ve ever known. With you as my helper and friend, I can bear the weeks to come.”

  Perhaps, if she was more concerned for another’s happiness than for her own, she would be more able to bear the pain of Saber’s rejection. “You may come here whenever you please,” Ella said, smiling, and patting Precious’s hands. “But I do believe you should contact your parents and explain your true feelings for Lord Wokingham.”

  “I cannot.” Precious shook her head until her red curls bounced. “This much I can do for them. They have been so good and generous to me. They sacrificed everything to give me this Season. I am fortunate that a man of Woky’s standing noticed me at all. I am resolute, Ella. He has honored me with this offer of marriage, and I shall honor him. I shall be a faithful, obedient wife. He will be proud of me.”

  How awful.

  “And I shall manage well enough if you will attend me.”

  “Attend you?” Ella frowned inquiringly.

  Precious clung to her. “My parents cannot be in London for the wedding. I shall have no one—no one but you. Will you attend me? Will you help me prepare and be with me during the ceremony? It is to be private—performed at Lord Wokingham’s mansion here in London.”

  “Ah.” What could she say? How could she refuse—despite her loathing at the prospect of being in the Wokinghams’ home?

  “You will come, then? You will help me prepare and stand with me for the ceremony?”

  Ella regarded the other’s anxious face and said, “Yes, of course I will.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Do you remember Lushbottam’s?”MMNMMMM

  Sickened, Ella stared at the words on the single sheet of heavy notepaper and sank slowly into the chair Precious had vacated minutes earlier.

  From below came the hollow boom of the front door closing behind the departing visitor.

  Ella settled shaking fingertips on her mouth and tried to breathe deeply enough to calm herself.

  “An exotic girl in red chiffon. Transparent red chiffon. A virgin for auction, Mrs. Lushbottam said. We both know that was fabrication, don’t we, my dear one?”

  “Who are you?” Ella said aloud, barely able to breathe at all now. First strategically dropped scraps of red chiffon, now this dreadful note. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “No virgin you, exotic girl. Just one more of Mrs. Lushbottam’s ‘lady tailors’ who were skilled in accommodating any size or shape of gentleman. Such a clever notion. Did you have fun in that house of debauchery? Did you revel in the acts you performed there?”

  She had performed no acts. A victim. A helpless victim paraded before the eyes of cruel men and women who stared at her body and made lewd comments. Even the nature of what those acts might be was not clear to her. She had been blindfolded most of the time. The women, the tailors had spoken of certain things, but Ella had not understood.

  “Do you think everyone has forgotten what you were? What you are? Impossible. Your breasts are pointed, the tips sharp and uptilted. The hair between your legs is as black as the hair on your head. An invitation. But you know that, of course. A neat conspiracy. “Virgin!” And now you hope to trick some upright man into marrying you. You think to evade your past.”

  Ella surged to her feet. She must get away from here. This evil person could shame not only her, but her dear family. Max. Max must never be touched by this. If he were to as much as get a hint of this subversive attack upon his sister, he would be almost impossible to restrain. He’d try to search out the culprit and deal with him.

  Saber, Saber.

  If only she could just feel his warm arms about her, look into his serious eyes and know he would be there to help her be strong.

  She would not cry. There was no time for tears, and tears would not heal this oozing wound of horror.

  “Well, lady tailor, you must wait for my next communication. Fear not, I am not ready to send you back to threading needles. Not yet. Perhaps never, if you do as you are told.”

  This mad person intended to control and manipulate her. For what purpose?

  “I have not yet decided the exact nature of how you will pay for the wrong you have done me.”

  Wrong? She had done nothing wrong. Her brow became hot and damp. Mama and Papa had not yet left. Perhaps she should go to them at once and show them the note.

  No. They had already done too much for her. “I know you will be anxious to serve me. Be patient, my virgin, be patient. I cannot tell you when I will come to you, but I will come. Best stay away from public places—and from any man you would not wish to be embarrassed before. After all, if I encounter you publicly, I may not be able to stop myself from warning any gentleman of your true colors. Red chiffon. Accommodation to any gentleman’s needs. Large gentlemen particularly welcomed. That is how the sign over the door of Mrs. Lushbottam’s read. But, of course, you remember such details well. Do you prefer large gentlemen to thread your needle?”

  What did it mean? Oh, what did it mean?

  Running footsteps sounded on the stairs. “I am, my dear virgin, your ever-attentive master. Await my pleasure.”

  She thrust the note and its envelope into the pocket of her gown and pressed her palms to her cheeks.

  “Ella! Ella!” The door flew open and banged against the wall. “It’s me, Max. Footsore and exhausted, but at your service, sister. Why are you in residence here instead of Hanover Square? Crabley would scarcely speak to me.”

  Ella fell back a step. “Max? What on earth are you doing in London? You’re supposed to be in school.”

  “Sick,” he said, staggering comically. “Surely you see I’m sick and have been returned to you in hopes you can save my life.”

  Settling her features into an older-sisterly frown, Ella studied her fifteen-year-old brother from the top of his unruly red hair, to the toes of his highly polished and very fashionable bespoke boots. “I am here because Papa and Mama are returning to Scotland in the morning. Edward and Sarah need them, and Papa must deal with some questions about both Kirkcaldy itself and the lodge. He needs Mama with him. Great-Grandmama is to be my mentor for my Season. But enough of that. What is all this with you, Max? Surely you haven’t been expelled from Eton.”

  “Expelled? I’ll thank you to take back such a suggestion. I am a model pupil in every manner. My masters gasp at my brilliance. They have never seen the like. That’s what they say daily.”

  At fifteen Max was over six feet tall and, rather than gangly as most youths so quickly grown might have been, he showed a fine, strong figure. Max lived with vigor, confronted every experience with curiosity and energy. His once carrot-colored hair had darkened to a rich, deep red and, although thick and tousled, no longer stood up as if in a condition of perpetual shock. Green eyes now showed a developed humor that could sometimes be tempered with acute seriousness. Max Rossmara had become a handsome young blade, and Ella looked upon him with pride.

  Today Ella also looked upon her brother with suspicion. He could not possibly be ill and he could not possibly have any right to be here unless he’d been sent away from Eton.

  “You wrote,” he said, standing before her
, resting a big hand on each of her shoulders and looking down into her face. “You are not happy.”

  Having to tilt up her chin to regard her young brother’s face disconcerted Ella. “I did not tell you I was unhappy.”

  “Precisely. You did not tell me anything at all. Only that you were in London. Nothing more. That was because something is amiss. You are unhappy. Otherwise your words would have bubbled with interesting news. There. That’s the way of it. You need me, so I am here.”

  Ella looked away. She could almost feel the horrid note— even through her layers of petticoats.

  Max examined his fingernails. “I suppose this has something to do with Saber.”

  “Saber is wonderful!” She closed her mouth tightly. “Wonderful, but?”

  Ella shook her head.

  “He has done something to make you sad, hasn’t he?”

  “Do not persist in this,” Ella said. “You must return to school before you are missed.”

  “I am already missed. They sent me home because I am sick.”

  “But you are not sick, Max. What can you be thinking of, running away and coming here after all Mama and Papa have done for you?”

  He withdrew his hands and let his shoulders sag. His eyelids lowered until he appeared almost asleep. “Matron gave me leave to return home,” he said weakly. “Apparently she feared some sort of epidemic. The fever, you know. When it became so high, I saw demons. By coincidence that was after I dampened my shirt with hot water, and placed a heated stone beneath my pillow. But I saw small purple demons dancing on Matron’s shoulders and disappearing inside her bodice. They shrieked. Apparently they were overwhelmed by what they found there, I suppose. I told her so.”

  “Max! You are not changed at all.” Ella barely contained her mirth. “You continue to tell the most frightful stories. That poor woman. You shall return to her and apologize at once.”

  “Not until I have made sure all is well with you,” he said, absolutely serious now. “I have been given leave to rest here with you until I am recovered. I will be recovered once I am no longer concerned for you.”