He squeezed Ellie's hand in his and stopped to look in the conservatory windows. The room was empty, so he guided her inside, to the far end. It was warmer there, and yet Ellie knew they would not be overheard for the only doors into the house were distant and heavy, so as to preserve the warmth in the room. "But now," he continued, his voice still quiet, "You must be as courageous as you've ever been in making the decision that is best for you. Ellie, you cannot decide to marry because of what Mama or Papa desire. You must decide what will make you the happiest—even though for certain one of them will be unhappy with the outcome."
He shook his head and sighed. "Papa is afraid that if you marry, you will be shamed—that the entire family will be dishonored if the marquess was somehow foolish enough to disclose your secrets—our secrets." He sighed, then admitted, "But I cannot believe he ever would, for the scandal he would create by annulment or even separating from you would horribly embarrass his own family as well, particularly Charlotte and Caroline, and Ashberry is nothing if not devoted to his siblings."
When Ellie nodded, he continued, "Mama, on the other hand, has always wanted marriage for you but this marriage in particular she desires for her own reasons. She is impressed by the man's title, not to mention the money and power behind it. When Charlotte accepted my offer, Mama was thrilled because she is the granddaughter of a duke, the niece of a duke, the daughter and sister of a marquess. Unfortunately for Mama's aspirations, you must remember that Ashberry does not wield that power unless life and limb are at stake and he will not encourage you to become a powerful matron of London's political circles. He much prefers his farms and his horses, and will gladly choose to earn a pound rather than spend it. As far as I can ascertain, the man is involved at Westminster and St. James only because of his strong sense of justice in the matter of France and his incidental residence while in town to find husbands for his sisters. His brother Sebastian is much more committed to and interested in the political world."
He paused until Ellie nodded again, her eyes thoughtful. When he saw she wasn't going to ask a question, he finished, "Whatever decision you make, Ellie, please make it for yourself. Neither one of our parents are really considering what is best for you. The disagreement is over what is best for them." With a smile, he kissed her forehead and added softly, "I saw the way he looked at you, Ellie, and I know it was no mild interest, for he assiduously avoids young innocents and the marriage mart. What he feels is already quite intense, or he would have knuckled under Papa's indignation."
Ellie agreed soberly, for she knew Edward spoke the truth. As she answered, a rap at the door interrupted the conversation, and both Ellie and Edward smiled at each other, completely aware that while their conversation could not have been overheard, their location was, as ever, duly noted by the attentive staff. Gallantly, Edward again offered his arm. "Allow me to escort you, my lady," he invited, and together they left the conservatory to the news that the Ashberry siblings had arrived.
The marquess quickly acknowledged that Ellie would be firmly under the eye of her brother. In fact, he doubted he could have chosen a more determined chaperon, so loyal that the man's own fiancée would have to accept the mere role of a companion. As for himself, Ashberry was quite certain that young Whitney would not try to accidentally lose the marquess' phaeton and disappear with his bride. It was one thing to leave them alone in the Ashberry drawing room or library, quite another to leave them to their own devices behind their own coachman. Still, Ashberry had concluded this was one situation where he could trust the young man without a proper female chaperone before the vows were exchanged.
Young Whitney permitted Ashberry to help Ellie with her cloak but only because Edward wished to greet his own fiancée. The marquess took advantage of the opportunity, however, smiling gently at his heart's desire as he fastened the simple brooch that held the pelisse closed. The colors of her gown were not particularly fashionable for that Season and the dress was more conservative than most of her contemporaries would be wearing that morn, but on Ellie's slim form the stripes gave a suggesting feminine shape to her modest figure. He found her quite fetching. "You are quite enchanting, Ella," he whispered softly, kissing her gloved hand.
Ellie blushed, for she truly was unused to such compliments, and the marquess had once again used her Christian name, which no one but her own family had ever used. She watched the marquess step between her and Edward, so that her brother could not observe as he touched a single finger to her cheek and drew it slowly from her temple to chin before donning his gloves again. Quite softly, he told her, "I have been positively aching to do that since the first time I saw you and I'm afraid I could no longer resist. I hope I did not offend?"
Her blush extended the entire length of where he had touched, but Ellie managed to shake her head. "It is quite chilly, Edward," the two heard Charlotte say. "Do you have extra blankets?"
Edward's quiet assent was clear, as was the marquess' smile as Ellie tied her bonnet over her elegant chignon. "We will stay warm," Ashberry supplied confidently, drawing Ellie's arm onto his. Edward and Charlotte followed them out the front door and both gentlemen helped the ladies up into their respective equipages. Ashberry led the two away from the house and into the street.
Ellie smiled inwardly, though her face remained serenely composed. Ashberry was certainly a gentleman, even if he had been a little more forward than she would have expected. Turning slightly so that he could see her face inside the bonnet, she murmured, "I want to thank you for suggesting that Edward and Charlotte join us, from a short distance."
"Certainly," the marquess answered, only glancing at her as he concentrated on moving his horses through the street. "Although my reasons are selfish. I didn't particularly care to have your maid or other companion along to crowd the seat and listen to our conversation but after some thought I concluded that you wouldn't come out with me alone."
Ellie blushed again, though the wind had disguised her cheeks with a rosy shine. "It was probably also wise to go in front, for he won't be turning around to check on me and causing an accident."
Ashberry laughed, for Ellie's imagination fit her brother's behavior perfectly. "He is quite protective of you. I suppose you must have wished for a sister to take away some of the burden."
Ellie shrugged a little. "He has been a wonderful brother. More than any sister could hope for," she said softly after a moment, fingering the blanket on her lap.
The marquess looked down at her fingers, immediately noticing the change in her voice. Ellie had a good deal of affection for her brother but her loyalty to him sparked sad memories as well. "Then I won't try and convince you that marriage could rescue you from an abominable home life," he teased lightly.
Ellie looked at him, startled for a moment until she realized he was flirting with her. She breathed a sigh of relief before biting her lip and smiling for a brief moment. "Tell me about your home life," she asked after a moment.
Ashberry had seen the smile, though she had turned her head away and looked to her lap. He didn't try to hide his pleasure at her response to his teasing but smiled easily as he thought about her question.
"It's changing," he said eventually. "My little sisters won't be coming home with me when I leave London—they'll have their own homes to organize and their own small families to care for. Sebastian, my heir for the moment, manages my affairs here in London and makes his home with Aunt Lucy—that is, Lady Westhouse. Spencer and Sidney are staying here in London for a year and then will prepare to take up their Navy commissions. After I leave, he and Aunt Lucy will be looking after the boys and our relation Sarah Shelling, the girls' former governess who wishes to retire here in London—at present she's supervising the staff at Ashberry Park. I'll be returning to Cumbria without the six people who have always been there." He laughed a little. "I suspect Ashberry Park will be quieter for a time than it has been in many years."
"You've still decided to go north?"
Ashberry glanced sid
eways at Ellie, surprised that her father had revealed the extent of their conversation. "I will wait until after the Christmas holiday. And I'm hoping now that I won't be going alone."
Ellie bit her lip. Now was her chance. She had thought of a way to explain, without actually explaining all that had happened to her. "It wouldn't be fair to you," she said softly, staring straight ahead as the phaeton turned into Hyde Park.
"Why not?" the marquess asked bluntly, not bothering to pretend a misunderstanding. "I can't imagine that when the sun sets you turn into a man, or some other such nonsense."
Ellie swallowed a sob that rose, unexpected though it was, at the top of her throat. She knew that the lord beside had not meant to hit so squarely her worst fears. "I do not know, my lord, if I can bear you children," she finally said, the words breathless.
FOUR
The raw statement hung between them for several long minutes before the marquess took one hand from the reins to cover Ellie’s. They were clenched on her lap, so tensely that he thought she might break her own fingers.
“I did not mean to offend you, Ella,” he said softly. “As to children, I have three fine, honest healthy brothers, and I am sure that at least one of them will have a family. I have never been concerned about my own nursery or the identity of the next marquess. I have already raised one set of children.”
“You do not want your own children?” Ellie asked, a little agony in her voice.
Ashberry knew then that Ellie’s past was a constant source of pain to her soul and he imagined for a moment a child in her arms. Although his honest answer would have been yes, Ashberry astutely guessed that Ella Whitney ached for the motherhood everyone thought difficult, if not impossible. It was a priceless gift he could give her, and Ashberry knew without question that he was the only one who would be allowed close enough to even consider it. Should he fail in his quest to make the girl beside him his wife, Ella Whitney would be whisked away to the seclusion of Cornwall, likely never to be seen again until all pretenses of age and beauty had passed.
A more daunting question she could not have asked.
The marquess sighed inwardly, accepting that the girl beside him would lead him directly into his worst fears. He actually considered for a brief moment if she was the one he wanted beside him in life, then dismissed the thought half a second later. His gut had clenched and his jaw ached at the mere suggestion he had made to himself. The thought that she might be left to drift along for the next fifty years without living was abominable. However, Ella Whitney could not belong to any other man—she was meant for him. It made no matter that the gift she asked for, albeit unknowingly, could cost him his very soul.
He knew instinctively that he would welcome any children he and Ellie might beget, if they all survived the nine months of endless torture that preceded a baby and the painful period required to actually birth it. Ashberry’s true fear was that they would not all survive the experience; to be responsible for the death of his wife was a nightmare Ashberry didn’t believe he would face any more successfully than his father had.
His jaw actually trembled at the thought. Intellectually, Ashberry knew that the price demanded for each new generation was dear but that not every mother was required to pay it. It was simply unfortunate, a decree of fate that both of Ashberry’s mothers had been charged that impossibly high fee. But understanding and acceptance were two very different conditions.
Glad the park was nearly empty at this hour and this late in the year, Ashberry steered quite far from the few carriages, allowing Edward to set his own pace behind them.
Ashberry had not realized that Ellie would face the challenges between them so quickly, but as the minutes passed and neither spoke, he also realized she would not wish to prolong the courtship if any question about her ability to bear children would cause him to reverse his decision.
Eventually he answered quietly, “I would welcome babies, Ella, if they did not present a risk to you. I have been given to understand that, in the past, you have been quite ill and as a result, the question of you safely bearing children legitimately concerns me. I would love them dearly if fate has that in store for us but I do not need them to be fulfilled in life or to pass on my title. In this matter, you—your life—are of primary concern to me.”
He cleared his throat, explaining more fully, “I have already raised 5 children, two from infancy, beginning when I was just fourteen and essentially depending only on what advice Aunt Lucy could send through the post and on my step-cousin Sarah Shelling, a relation my stepmother brought to Ashberry Park as the girls’ nurse. They are all quite dear to me, as would any more children be, but I would be just as content with nieces and nephews. I will not withdraw my suit for such a reason.” He looked significantly at the girl beside him then squeezed her hand. “I assume you have reason to doubt yourself?”
Ellie had been certain during his long silence that he would back away, for he had seemed tense, lost in thought. In fact, she had allowed a certain despair to begin filling her stomach and heart with unexpected pain. At his words, she frowned, trying to frame a coherent reply even as the painful choking sensation eased slightly.
Finally, she admitted slowly, “The doctors are ... cautious about my ability to carry a child to term. The thing ... the thing that I must tell you about. It has to do with ... with why they have doubts.”
“Then I am confident you will share it with me, when you are ready,” the marquess offered quietly.
Ellie could hardly find fault with his consideration. He was undemanding, not even irritated with her prevarication, honest though it was. Knowing she needed to defuse any interference from her father, she added, “My parents, my father particularly, thought it best to tell you that I had a terrible accident that will prevent me from having children and from which I still suffer other ill effects. It would explain quite nicely why I was not brought out, why my parents are not seeking a husband on my behalf. Papa was sure that it would change your intentions.” She took a deep breath before adding, “But it is not precisely true that I am not able to carry a babe, only that the doctors are cautious and, in truth, the only ill effect I still suffer is the occasional nightmare.” Biting her lip, she added softly, “For you to make a decision in good faith about me, I will need to tell you why the doctors say what they do about me, and this will be difficult for me.”
Looking off toward the trees in the park, Ellie considered how to finish her small speech. “Should I ever marry, it would quickly become evident that the concerns about my health were not caused by an accident. It would be dishonest and unjust, to you, to pretend to be something I am not. In fact, except for this one thing and my ... reserve, I am in perfect health.” She paused, before warning him in a subdued voice, “If my father interferes, he will not tell you the true reason.”
Exhausted from the long explanation, Ellie looked down at her hands. He had not spoken during her explanation but neither had he drawn away his hand. It still was clasped around hers as he guided the sedate horses over the stones. Unable to brave anything more, she waited in an agony for him to speak, wondering if she had explained adequately or if she had even said too much.
The emotions roaring through Ashberry were tightly reined before he spoke. Her honesty, her unwillingness to permit her father to manage the new possibilities in her life—the marquess wondered how he had been chosen to find the naive and courageous treasure beside him. “You are perhaps too honest, Ella. I understand now why your mother hardly allows you out of her sight.” He sighed softly before adding, “I feel an almost irresistible urge to force your confession, just to have the thing done with, so that we both will know that my motives in asking for your hand were not conditional.” He shook his head, concluding dryly, “But of course I will not.”
Ellie nodded, changing the subject again. “Would you tell me about Ashberry Park?” she asked directly.
The marquess took a deep breath. He was glad she was asking about his home, his life,
though he was quickly finding that her questions were framed to encourage him to talk, and her to remain mostly silent. Despite his suspicion that she was doing it purposefully to turn the conversation away from her, Ashberry felt it was a good sign that she had some interest in a place that he intended would become her home.
He smiled at the memory of it before he began his story. “Ashberry Park is far north, as you might guess. During the old days, it was within easy striking distance of Scottish rebels, and many of the old English and Scottish traditions are still common among the peasantry. As it was, the first marquess in the 1300s was a younger son and vassal of the Duke of Cumbria. The titled lands were given to the marquess by the duke in return for the defense of the border and the king bestowed the title as a reward for the same valor service. The title has passed in direct lineage ever since, though quite a number of the marquises have been second and third sons. Traditionally, the marquess and his sons, you understand, rode to defend his lands along with his vassals, as was required by duke and king.”
He grimaced, “Their efforts were not always successful, but somehow at least one brother always survived the chaos.”
“Surely, my lord, such promises are not now necessary,” Ella objected, appearing surprised. “Rebellion is hardly a danger. Indeed, I understood Scotland to be quite civilized these days.”
“You’re correct. There is no danger—not since the fiasco of 1745 and the punishments that have been instituted since. During that invasion, my grandfather and many of the gentry from my county rode beside Carlisle while Cumbria sped to London bringing the news to Parliament. Of course, many of the gentry were split in their loyalties and several refused to ride against the imposter. In fact, two even joined the rebels. Carlisle and my grandfather were forced to retreat behind the very insecure walls of the old Carlisle Castle while the rebels proceeded south. Ashberry Park, the original part built nearly a hundred years ago, was saved from desecration only because of the Scots' haste, for which I am most grateful.”
Embracing Ashberry Page 6